Exposed: Misbehaving with the Magnate (4 page)

Luc knew that kissing Gabrielle was a mistake; he’d always known. She held nothing back, she never had, as she opened for him and spun them into oblivion, the kiss sliding from barely contained to outrageously wanton in a heartbeat. Her taste assaulted his senses, rich and heady, like the finest of wine. Her scent was one he would never tire of, not if he lived to be a hundred, and as for her touch…He wanted her hands on him more than he wanted to breathe.

‘Touch me,’ he murmured, between more of those greedy, soul-shattering kisses. ‘For pity’s sake, Gabrielle, touch me.’

With a ragged little noise, half sob, half plea, Gabrielle dropped her sandals, wound her arms around his neck and did as she was told.

The rain came suddenly, hitting hard, dousing them both with cool and stinging droplets. Gabrielle broke
their kiss and gasped, flinching away, her arm coming up to protect her face from the spray. Luc blinked and shook his head before he too raised his hand to ward off the unexpected assault that didn’t appear to be coming from overhead. ‘What the hell..?’

‘Sorry.’ Simone’s voice came to him as if from a great distance, never mind that she stood only a few feet away with a hose in her hand and an angelic expression on her face. ‘I turned the tap on and the water pressure just whipped that hose right out of my hands and sprayed everything in sight. I simply couldn’t control it.’ Simone’s level gaze pinned them both. ‘You know how it is.’

Gabrielle blushed a fetching shade of pink.

Luc wiped the water from his face with his sleeve and rammed his hands in his pockets to stop them from reaching for Gabrielle again. ‘Next time we meet in public I’m saying hello and that’s
it
’ he told Gabrielle grimly.

‘Good idea,’ she murmured as she knelt down to pick up her sandals, the action putting her at eye level with certain parts of his anatomy still straining for attention. Luc looked away fast, clenching his jaw as he fixed his gaze upon the stone wall straight in front of him and kept it there.

‘And then I’m heading for the other side of the room,’ he told no one in particular, his gaze still firmly fixed on the wall. ‘Possibly the other side of the earth.’

‘It’s called Australia,’ said Simone dryly. ‘And it certainly worked for the pair of you last time. More water?’

‘No,’ he said quickly.

‘I’m good too.’ Gabrielle popped into Luc’s frame of view with the speed of a rain-drenched weed. She smiled brightly and shook out the droplets of water from her dress for good measure. ‘So where were we?’

‘About to take a tour of the gardens?’ said Simone with the lift of an elegant eyebrow. ‘Are you planning on joining us, brother?’

Not if he could possibly help it.

‘Leave me alone with this woman and you’re a dead man,’ murmured Gabrielle.

‘She’ll get you alone sooner or later,’ argued Luc. ‘Why delay the inevitable?’

‘Nothing’s inevitable. Except maybe you and I needing to get that out of our system.’ Gabrielle swept past him. ‘At least it’s done now. Finished. Lesson learned. No need for a repeat. Are you listening?’

‘Intently,’ he said dryly. ‘You seriously believe we can just carry on being all civilised after that?’

‘Absolutely.’ Chin high, she headed for the nearest garden path and started to lead the way up it. ‘I’m an extremely civilised person.’

‘I noticed that,’ said Simone, with a heartily amused grin as she sent Luc a wink and followed in Gabrielle’s wake. ‘So much fuss over such an ordinary little kiss. Really, Luc. Take Gabrielle’s lead and forget all about it. Put all that pesky kissing business far, far behind you. There are far more important things to consider on a day like today.’

‘Like what?’ What could be more important than contemplating the loss of one’s control and quite possibly one’s mind? And when he might conceivably have the opportunity to lose them again?

‘Gardens,’ said Simone firmly. ‘Gardens are far more important than kisses—wouldn’t you agree, Gabrielle?’

Gabrielle did agree. Heartily.

Women.

D
INNER
that evening would have been both pleasant and relaxing, thought Gabrielle with a heartfelt glare in Simone’s direction—if Luc hadn’t decided to join them. She vaguely remembered ordering Luc not to leave her alone with his sister. She dimly recalled mentioning red-wine and hearing Simone talk of preparing a meal to accompany a red wine experience, but nowhere during the conversations that had taken place did she recall either her or Simone actually issuing Luc a dinner invitation. Not that he needed one, she decided glumly. Caverness being his home, and all.

It was just that, now that she had her wits about her, sharing a cosy home-cooked meal with Simone and Luc didn’t seem like a very good idea at all. If she had any sense at all, she would stay as far away from Luc as she possibly could, the reason being that if he wasn’t in sight she wouldn’t want and if she didn’t want she wouldn’t touch. If she never touched, she would not take—and she would not lose herself in the process. Simple.

Problem solved.

The more immediate problem being how to make her exit without insulting her hosts. Simone would understand, surely.

‘This civilised dinner thing—it really isn’t working for me,’ she said as Simone scooped stuffing mixture into the duck and plugged the hole shut with a parboiled and well-skewered orange.

‘I’m pretty sure it’s not working for the duck either,’ murmured Simone, ‘but do you see me stopping?’ Simone swiftly began to squeeze the juice from two more oranges. ‘It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t have mentioned that you’d brought two of Rafael’s wines along. You should have known there’d be no getting rid of Luc after that.’

‘My fault?’ spluttered Gabrielle. ‘
My
fault? Who was it that promised him roast duck in citrus?’ Or, in this particular case, citrus in roast duck. Duck had been Luc’s favourite dish as a boy, and if the light in his eyes at its mention was anything to go by it was still a firm favourite. ‘You deliberately planned to prepare something he couldn’t resist.’

‘Of course I did.’ Simone was unrepentant. ‘It’s all part of the be-civil-to-Luc plan that we put together last night, remember? The fact that you couldn’t manage to make that plan
stick
for more than two minutes in each other’s company is hardly my fault.’

The fact that Simone was
right
was hardly reassuring.

‘If you run out on this meal I’m going to be very displeased,’ said Simone, fixing her with a stern glare. ‘You can leave when the meal is over, not before.’

In which case it was time to move this meal along,
decided Gabrielle as she surveyed the restaurant sized cooking bench currently strewn with ingredients. ‘How can I help? Give me something to do.’

‘Open the wine,’ said Simone with a grin. ‘That might help.’

‘Luc’s opening the wine.’ Gabrielle slid a sideways glance to where he stood on the far side of the kitchen. ‘Correction, he’s examining the label at the moment.’ Gabrielle felt a flutter of apprehension. The branding and labelling of the wine was her department, her work, and she took a great deal of pride in it. The Angels Landing label with its winged angel graphic and elegant raised text had won numerous industry awards in Australia but Australia wasn’t France. Would her work find favour with Luc?

He looked up and caught her gaze. ‘Bold,’ he said.

‘So’s the wine.’ Gabrielle tried to stop feeling protective of the product but to no avail. Years of work and a great deal of heart had gone into the making and presentation of that wine—she could never be blasé about people’s reaction to it.

As winemakers themselves, Luc and Simone would understand.

‘Go,’ said Simone, nodding towards Luc and the wine, and Gabrielle headed swiftly across the kitchen, making sure to stay on the opposite side of the table to Luc.

‘You wish to talk me through the tasting?’ said Luc.

‘If you’d like me to?’ She’d tried for nonchalance, but if the tilt to Luc’s lips was any indication she hadn’t quite nailed it.

‘I would,’ he said with admirable formality.
‘Merci.’
His smile widened. ‘You always were good at selling wines to customers. Do you remember when you and Simone took over cellar door sales the afternoon Marciel fell ill? How many cases of our oldest and most expensive vintage did you sell? Twenty-eight?’

‘Twenty-nine,’ said Gabrielle. ‘And we had a definite cuteness advantage over Marciel.’ Marciel had been grey, grizzled, and formidable. She and Simone had been grubby, pinafored, and seven and nine years old respectively. Simone had been lauded for her efforts. Gabrielle felt her smile begin to falter as the memory returned in full. Gabrielle had been beaten for overstepping her boundaries.

With a horsewhip.

Rafe had gone ballistic when he’d seen the welts on her back and legs. He’d been thirteen and her champion but there’d been no protecting her from Josien. Not back then. Not until later, when Rafe’s size, his strength, and his own icy fury at Josien’s punishments had compelled Josien to think twice before meting them out.

‘What is it?’ asked Luc, his deep delicious voice reaching into her and dragging her back to the present. He always had been able to read her. It had been one of the best things about their friendship as children, and one of the dangers of being with him as she’d grown older and her crush on him had intensified. ‘Gabrielle? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ she said, deliberately letting go of unhappy memories and pasting on a smile. As children she and Rafe had been extremely adept at hiding Josien’s cruelties from the world and she had no mind
to expose them now. Some might call that weak, some might call her complicit in her own punishment, but to Gabrielle’s way of thinking the word that should be used in those types of situations was
survivor
. She and Rafael were survivors both. And quietly, rightfully, proud of it. ‘That one’s our most mature wine,’ she said, indicating the bottle in Luc’s hand. ‘Having said that, it’s still only five years old. Rafe wanted to give it another year before releasing it, but economics got in the way. We needed the cash flow,’ she said. ‘This wine is one year younger and we’ve only bottled a small amount of it. Most of the vintage is still in barrels,’ she said indicating the bottle on the counter. ‘They’re both beautifully balanced wines, don’t get me wrong, but the younger one’s my favourite. It’s my favourite out of all the wines we’ve produced to date.’

‘Why red wine?’ asked Luc. ‘Why didn’t Rafe stick with what he knew? He took with him a lot of knowledge about the making of sparkling wine.’

Indeed he had. Both Luc and Rafe had learned a great deal from old man Duvalier about the making of champagne. Luc had been a skilled practitioner even then. In contrast, Rafe had been inclined to experiment. Most of Rafe’s experiments had failed but sometimes…sometimes his wild combinations had garnered even old man Duvalier’s praise. ‘I don’t know why he went for the reds, in all honesty,’ said Gabrielle. ‘He’d just bought the vineyard when I arrived on his doorstep. As far as I can gather he saw that old winery and fell in love. The vines in the ground were red varieties so red was the wine he made.’

‘Why the Angels Landing name?’ asked Luc.

‘Because it fit,’ said Gabrielle with a tiny half smile. Because Angels Tears hadn’t exactly cut muster as an uplifting name for a new beginning. No need to mention that she’d labelled Rafe’s first bottling of a barrel of private stock Angels Tears, or that it was the best of Rafe’s reds by far. It wasn’t for public consumption, not the name and not the wine. ‘Open them.’ Never mind that they wouldn’t get through both, Luc would want to compare vintages.

‘What made you go for corks instead of a screw top?’ asked Luc as he obliged.

‘Tradition,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Rafe knows exactly which market he’s targeting and they don’t do screw tops. Yet.’

Bottles opened and wine breathing, Luc took his time collecting glassware from the cupboard while Gabrielle watched him with a combination of exasperation, lust, and a growing knot of trepidation. Luc’s opinion of the wine mattered to her. If he didn’t like it she was going to be crushed.

‘Colour’s good,’ murmured Luc after pouring three tasting serves from the first bottle.

‘Yes.’ The colour was superb. She waited for Luc to pick up his glass and willed herself not to fidget. ‘Simone, do you want some?’

Simone’s face was a study in contradiction as she headed almost reluctantly towards them. ‘I’d feel a lot better about this if I could separate the maker from his wine,’ she muttered.

‘I’d feel a lot better if we could just get this over with,’ countered Gabrielle. ‘Just try some and be done with it. Say hmm, quite nice, very interesting, and put me out of my misery.’

But that wasn’t the way wine tasting worked at Chateau des Caverness.

‘Bouquet’s a little…’ began Luc with his nose to the glass.

‘A little what?’ asked Gabrielle anxiously.

‘Interesting,’ said Luc. Was he smirking? She couldn’t see his mouth for the wine glass but his eyes were definitely laughing at her.

‘Nice berry notes,’ said Simone.

‘Apricot as well,’ said Luc. ‘Unusual. Hmm.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Luc, will you get to the “quite nice” part?’ muttered Gabrielle.

Luc smiled, briefly, and his eyes took on a rakish gleam. ‘Patience, angel,’ he murmured. ‘Wine tasting’s a civilised business. I thought you knew that. Being such a civilised and restrained person yourself and all.’

She usually was. Around anyone but him. ‘Luc,’ she said with what she considered a great deal of restraint, ‘don’t make me hurt you.’ Gabrielle took a calming breath and turned her attention to the irregular streaks running through the marble bench-top—like little rivers and estuaries they meandered and widened, separated and petered out. She wished her awareness of this man would peter out too, but the more time she spent in Luc’s company, the stronger it grew. She wanted to know what he thought of her wine. She wanted to know what he thought of their recent kiss. And heaven help her but she wanted to kiss him again. What would happen if she and Luc did embark on an affair? A steamy, searing, no-holds-barred exercise in raunch? Would that be enough to get him out of her system? Would it leave her sated and ready to move on
or would spending time in Luc’s embrace spoil her for all other men?

She really didn’t like the sound of that last option at all. No. No, thank you. No.

‘What are you thinking?’ murmured Luc.

Gabrielle glanced up and sent him a careful smile. ‘Nothing that concerns you.’ She waited some more while the ever so civilised head of the House of Duvalier faffed about with his wine. ‘Well?’ she said impatiently. ‘Can we skip to the civilised part now?’

‘Well, I like it,’ said Simone. ‘It’s a big-bodied and very bold wine with a depth and smoothness that belies its age.’ Simone smiled briefly and took another sip. ‘I don’t know what it is about these Australian wines…there’s always such richness of
flavour
.’

‘Rafe thinks it’s a reflection of the youth of the wine industry there,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Everyone’s still experimenting. There hasn’t been time to develop a whole lot of ritual or subtlety.’

‘There’s subtlety here,’ said Luc, tasting the wine and lifting his glass to once more study the colour.

‘You think so?’ Gabrielle let her pleasure at his words seep through her. ‘I think so too. Try the other bottle.’

Luc tasted the second one and his smile turned wry. ‘The last one had some excellent qualities embedded in it,’ he said. ‘This one’s brilliant.’

Simone sighed. Gabrielle beamed.

‘What kind of distribution are you aiming for?’ asked Luc, his eyes sharp and his words all business. Gabrielle hadn’t seen this side of him before. She liked it. Liked that he took her expansion plans seriously.

‘The exclusive kind,’ she said. ‘We’re not looking to inundate the market. We just want to establish a presence here.’

‘What do you need?’

‘Storage, for starters.’

‘In the caves?’

‘Preferably, yes.’

‘You’ll pay premium price for that.’

‘I know.’ Gabrielle sighed. ‘And, realistically speaking, underground storage may not be feasible hereabouts. I’m looking into all the options on offer.’

‘What else do you need?’

‘A marketing development strategy, a workable entry-level price point, and an on-ground sales force.’

‘Who do you have in place for those?’

‘Me.’ Luc would have had an entire team working on it, but she didn’t have those kinds of resources. She waited for him to say that it couldn’t be done, she waited for his lips to curve in an indulgent smile as he humoured the bit player, but he didn’t do either of those things.

‘Busy times, these next few weeks,’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘Let me know if you need an introduction to some of the major distributors in the area,’ he said next. ‘I’ll set something up for you. A tasting, perhaps. You could use the facilities already in place at Caverness. That might work.’

Gabrielle tried to keep her mouth closed, never mind that it wanted to drop open. A Chateau des Caverness wine-tasting session was an experience savoured by even the most jaded industry stalwarts and it wasn’t just
because of the quality of the product. Stepping into the cellars behind the chateau was like stepping into history. There were caverns filled with vintage champagne. Tiny grottos with tea light candles sitting in scooped-out hollows in the walls. Pyramids of bottled wine stacked in carved-out triangles in those same cave walls. Rough-hewn tables set ready for impromptu wine tasting. Narrow passageways flanked by rusty iron gates, cave paintings that dated back centuries, and always the cool grey rock beneath the fingertips. Sensual and seductive, the caves of Caverness existed to woo the senses of
extremely
discerning buyers.

‘Of course, if I’m going to put the House of Duvalier’s reputation on the line I’ll need to know a little more about your production schedule and what sized contracts you’re capable of fulfilling.’

Luc the businessman.

And what on earth was the businesswoman Gabrielle going to say in reply? Luc’s offer was a generous one and completely unexpected—the patronage of the House of Duvalier would go a long way towards securing orders from exactly the type of buyers she and Rafael hoped to target. She
should
be jumping all over the idea.