Grapes of Wrath (Billionaires' Secrets Book 2) (3 page)

Tarrant’s office had made multiple calls trying to set up an appointment, and had been pointedly ignored. Most likely by Ignacio. That was the reason she’d been forced to arrive unannounced.

Her curiosity deepened. She glanced at Clara, who stood in the doorway, eyes wide and anxious.

“Dad, why does Susannah’s presence here make you so uncomfortable? Surely you don’t believe her crazy story about me being her boss’s illegitimate son?” He smiled as if it was a great joke.

Ignacio’s weathered brow creased into a frown. “Of course not,” he growled. “It’s ridiculous and downright offensive. I don’t wish base accusations to tarnish our reputation. Who knows what ugly rumors such scandalous talk might generate?”

“You can’t have a rumor without something to talk about. And there’s nothing to discuss, right?” Amado leveled a dark and challenging stare at his father. Clearly, his parents’ odd behavior was making him suspicious.

And curious.

“She must leave, dear,” Clara piped up in her soft voice. “It’s for the best. We don’t want people to talk.” She wrung her plump hands.

“Have you both taken leave of your senses? Of course we want people to talk. We want the words ‘Tierra de Oro’ on everyone’s lips.” He tilted his chin to them, defying them to disagree. “I want Susannah to return to New York, unable to stop talking about our wines.” He shot her a winning smile. “In fact, we were about to head to the winery, so I can make her comfortable in the tasting room.”

Susannah’s eyes widened. Still, she wasn’t going to argue. As long as he wasn’t throwing her out.

Ignacio spluttered and Clara issued a breathy plea for him to talk to his father, but Amado slipped his arm into Susannah’s and led her past the troubled pair, through the living room, and out into the drive.

For a split second it occurred to her that he was going to pack her into her car and get rid of her as his parents had demanded. Instead he pulled open the passenger door of a large Mercedes sedan parked in the shade.

She climbed in, wondering if she’d live to regret it.

And if he’d live to regret not throwing her off the property. “You must be very close to your parents, to still live with them.”

“They don’t live here. They built a modern house near the winery. They’re always hovering around, though. I think they worry about me. They keep badgering me to find a nice girl and settle down.”

His wicked smile confirmed that he had no intention of obeying their wishes.

“They’re right to be worried.” Susannah raised an eyebrow. “You seem to be looking for trouble.”

“You’re wrong. Trouble has come looking for me.”

His heavy lidded stare made her legs wobble.

She
was in trouble. At least she would be if she didn’t find a nice way to turn down his bold invitation to spend the night in his bed, yet still get her sample.

She couldn’t go home without the sample. If it proved Amado wasn’t Tarrant’s son, then there might still be time to find the right person before Tarrant died. She couldn’t forgive herself if incompetence on her part denied him the chance to meet his child. She had to get Amado to agree.

Still, she didn’t want to press her point too hard and scare him off. He did seem intrigued by the prospect of doing business with Hardcastle Enterprises. Maybe she could somehow use that to persuade him to go along with her request.

She leaned back in the leather passenger seat and cleared her throat. “How many cases of wine do you produce each year?”

Amado chuckled, staring ahead out the windshield. “Changing the subject? I guess you don’t need my DNA so badly after all.” His lips hitched into a sensual smile. “I’m disappointed.”

His gaze lingered. Would he dignify her question with an answer? And what would she do if he didn’t?

Being the daughter of devout missionaries didn’t really prepare you for situations like this.

His big hands rested on the steering wheel. “Last year we produced nearly four thousand cases. This year, there’ll be more, as several hundred new rows are coming into full production.”

“You’re growing fast.”

“We have to if we’re going to make a name for ourselves.”

She nodded. “Are you trying to expand your markets overseas?”

“Absolutely. I’d especially like to expand into North America.” His expression was entirely genuine, nothing sexual about it.

Somehow that touched her. “If your other wines are as good as this, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble securing distribution.”

“We’re still small, so it must be the right distribution. Outlets where our wines will reach the right people.”

“Where they’ll be appreciated.”

“Exactly.”

Amado drove the familiar road apparently by instinct. His eyes seemed mostly to rest on her face, which heated under his intense gaze.

She struggled to keep her composure. “I think Hardcastle Enterprises could do a lot for you. In addition to our restaurants, we offer a boutique wine-selecting service for our customers. We keep their cellars stocked with the very best wines available that year.”

Amado’s keen interest was written all over his handsome features as they pulled into a parking area behind the large, stone winery building. “I look forward to showing you our winery. I’m confident you’ll enjoy our wines.”

Susannah resisted a triumphant smile. Finally, she had some real leverage. If she played her cards right, she could get the DNA she needed.

Was it the flattering glow of sunset, or was Amado getting more ridiculously handsome than ever?

Susannah sat at a wide, polished table, rows of fine stemmed glasses in front of her, their shimmering contents ranging in color from darkest garnet to pale silver.

Across the table, standing, Amado inhaled the bouquet of a youngish red, sipped it, then tossed his head back to swallow with a lavish gesture.

He’d rolled up his creamy-white sleeve to reveal a tan forearm, and she couldn’t help imagining the rest of his body would be equally hard and well-formed.

The tasting room was warm, and she’d removed her jacket. Her nipples stood to attention inside the loose-fitting top of her dress. The curved chair with its velvet padding was deliciously comfortable after the long drive crunched into her tiny rental car, and she longed to stretch like a cat.

She felt downright...tipsy. She’d blame the wine, but as an experienced taster she knew how to sip tiny amounts that couldn’t possibly get her inebriated.

At least she thought she did.

Amado poured Chardonnay into a glass. The liquid sparkled in the afternoon sun streaming in through the tall windows.

She inhaled then tasted. Flavor tingled across her tongue and caressed her throat with its smooth, golden warmth.

Like Amado, the wines seemed to be getting more delicious by the minute.

“Tierra de Oro—is there real gold in the earth around here?” She set the glass back on the table.

“I don’t think so. If there ever was, it’s long gone. The only gold around at Tierra de Oro is the kind stored in bottles.” He caressed a stemmed glass of pale liquid between finger and thumb.

Susannah’s belly shivered in response.

“I enjoy this kind of gold much more than the metal.”

“It costs less per ounce but gives more pleasure.” Amado’s smile revealed his white teeth.

Why did he have to be so great looking?

And she was entranced by the way he treated the wine like a sacred liquid. He handled the bottles as if they were sentient—firm yet gentle.

The way he might handle her if he removed her dress and layered kisses over her breasts and belly.

Susannah sat upright as a rush of heat swept through her. “It’s getting late. I’d better go to my hotel.”

Amado frowned. “What hotel?”

“Any hotel.” She hadn’t booked a room, as she wasn’t sure if she’d have to stay locally, or if she could just collect her sample and head back to the city.

Apparently, she’d have to stick around for one more night to talk him into giving the DNA. What if he balked tomorrow, as well?

“There are no hotels here.”

She groaned. The vineyard was over two hours from Mendoza. If she returned there for the night, she’d have to drive back here in the morning to resume her campaign.

“Where do people usually stay?”

He blinked. Innocent. “Here.”

“At the winery?”

“In my house.”

Chapter Three

A
mado picked up a three-year-old Cabernet. The tapered glass bottle looked slender and delicate in his big hands.

She could picture those broad palms and long fingers spanning the dip of her waist. “I’d prefer a hotel.”

He shrugged. “As I said. There isn’t one. This is the countryside, not a tourist destination.” His polite smile warred with the mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. “And Rosa will cook you a very fine dinner.”

“But what about your parents? They can’t wait for me to leave.”

“Don’t worry about them. They have their own house and I’ve made my feelings clear. They won’t interfere again.” His expression softened. “You’ll find my home quite comfortable. You’re the only one here, so you can have your pick of the rooms. In the morning, we can conclude our business.”

Perhaps he’d give her what she wanted if she stayed overnight. And it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go.

“It looks like I’m at your mercy. I mean, thanks for your hospitality.”

He laughed. She couldn’t help smiling. Truth be told, she didn’t mind staying. Not because she had any intention of personally extracting Amado’s DNA, but because everything about Tierra de Oro was so enchanting. The breathtaking views, the lush vines, the comfortable well-kept buildings.

And the wine had mellowed her out something wicked. She wasn’t even sure she
should
drive. Not to mention that she still had no gas.

And she couldn’t leave without his DNA.

“My offer still stands.”

“Which offer was that?”

He leveled a challenging gaze at her. “Whichever one you prefer.”

Susannah stowed her bag in a guest bedroom, committing herself to stay the night, one way or another.

As promised, dinner was sensational. A classic Argentine meal with locally raised steaks, fresh-picked vegetables and glass after glass of Amado’s magnificent wines.

Silent and catlike, Rosa served their food in the grand dining room. Instead of family portraits, the walls were lined with oil paintings of massive, rectangular-shaped bulls, each frame adorned with a gold nameplate.

“I guess someone loved cows.”

“My great grandfather. My grandfather. And my father.” Amado sipped his wine. “Tierra de Oro was known throughout Argentina for its breeding stock.”

“Do you still breed them?”

“My father does, but it’s a hobby at this point. Not profitable. That’s why I started the vineyard.”

“You?”

“Yes.” He looked at her quizzically. “Why are you surprised?”

“Well, you’re only thirty.” She blanched when she realized she’d assumed that the research was correct and he was in fact Tarrant’s son. “Aren’t you?”

“As it happens, I am thirty. But I was fooling around in the fields and growing things by the time I was eight. By age eleven, I’d hybridized a Syrah that got people talking. My neighbor Santos taught me a lot. He’s ninety now and one of the true geniuses of winemaking. He helped me persuade my father to let me plant grapes in our pastures. By the time I was eighteen, we’d planted seventy hectares of vines.” He nodded at her glass. “You’re drinking their fruit now.”

“So, you skipped right over watching
Power Rangers
and
action movies on TV
.
”

Amado smiled. “When the TV broke, no one cared— except Rosa. She missed her telenovelas.”

“Thank God your father finally came to his senses and bought a satellite dish.” The silvery voice made Susannah whip her head around. Rosa stood right behind her. A stern expression still tightened her inscrutable and impossibly ancient face.

Amado laughed. “Now she’s addicted to CNN broadcasts.”

She clucked her tongue.

“Someone’s got to keep the Alvarez family in touch with the modern world. Otherwise, all you’d do is fondle grapes and stick your hands up a cow’s backside.”

Susannah almost spewed her wine and Amado bent his head in laughter.

Rosa bustled away with an empty serving dish. Susannah leaned forward and whispered. “She’s a character. How old is she?”

Amado blew out a breath. “Probably older than the mountains. She’s certainly been here longer than anyone else. Every other person around here is her grandchild or great grandchild. For years I’ve been trying to convince her to retire and take it easy in her old age. She flaps her dishcloth at me and says she’d just as soon be dead.”

“What do you
do
around here for fun?”