“You know the plan,” Gabe reminded him, a tad defensively.
“Sì. You are focusing on The Devil’s Peak because you know Antonio will support a traditional blend more than the Malbec.”
“It’s not about what Antonio wants. It’s about doing the right thing for the market. Launch a superior wine that gets us noticed to pave the way, then hit them with the game changer.”
“You may not have a choice.”
No, he conceded. He might not. But what he needed to focus on now was what he could control, which was getting The Devil’s Peak out the door. And these bloody launch events, which were eating him alive.
He stayed and went through some approvals for Alex, but every time he looked at the gleaming desk in front of him, a vivid picture filled his head of what had almost happened between them. He couldn’t say he would have stopped. Infatti, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have. The desire to assuage the frustration she roused in him as easily as taking her next breath had been too strong.
Was still too strong for reason. Cristo. He tossed the pen down and raked his hands through his hair. She was making him lose it. Lose the control he was legendary for.
She had stopped him from breaking his own rule.
One complete loss of control with a woman was enough for a lifetime.
Darya had stolen his breath the night he’d met her at a cocktail party in Pacific Heights. Younger and less jaded then, he’d fallen for her long blond hair, sparkling blue eyes and aggressive desire for him. Bright, on the fast track at the partnered law firm she worked for, she’d whispered something overtly sexual in his ear in the middle of a crowded party and they’d ended up in bed together that night and every other night for the next eight months. She’d pretty much moved into his San Francisco condo and the rumor had flown: Gabe De Campo might finally have been caught. He, in his misplaced belief that he could have a relationship that rose above his parents’ business partnership, had thrown himself into it like a man without a brain.
Big mistake. Maybe he should have seen it coming. Maybe he should have seen how Darya’s ambition was a match for his, how she never would have been happy running the vineyard with him instead of climbing the corporate ladder. Maybe he should have recognized the distance growing between them as they pursued their separate agendas. But he hadn’t. He’d been too blind with the bright light Darya had been, until the Sunday when he’d returned home from New York to find that note. The note that had taken his uncertain belief in relationships and crushed it as easily as his machines annihilated a ton of grapes.
His mouth tightened. He hadn’t tried to call her. Hadn’t tried to get her back. Because from that moment on, before he’d even heard the senior partner had left his wife and married Darya, Gabe had ceased believing in love. His parents’ marriage might rival the arctic in its coldness, but it worked. And that’s what he would have. It was simpler that way.
Which made him wonder exactly where his fascination with Alex lay. He watched her out on the lawn, directing traffic like a law enforcement official. She drove him pazzo, no doubt about it. But on another level, he had to admit she intrigued him. Not just the fact she’d been bright enough to make it to the top of her profession without postsecondary education. That didn’t surprise him in the least. It had been the look on her face when she’d admitted that chink in her armor to him. Those words from that day in the cellar kept coming back. I was a bad girl, she’d said, as if she’d expected that to shut him down. Instead he wanted to know more. Much more.
He rubbed his fingers over the stubble covering his chin. That was a problem. She was a far bigger problem than he’d pegged that night at the hotel. The way he’d wanted her from the beginning had multiplied into an inconvenient obsession to have her. He needed to fix this before he crossed the line.
Taking someone else to bed was a possibility. Maybe Riccardo was right. Maybe that was exactly what he needed.
He picked up his smartphone, pulled up the contact details of the opera singer who’d been all over him at a party a few weeks ago and dialed the number. Five minutes later he had a breathy acceptance of a dinner date.
If only solving all his problems was that easy...
* * *
Things had gotten better AE—after the explosion, as Alex liked to call it. Whether Gabe had decided to trust her or had finally acknowledged he didn’t have time to micromanage, he was letting her run with the event. They were finally knocking things off at the speed they needed to.
If she could just forget how blindingly hot that moment in his office had been. But even her best efforts at denial couldn’t completely wipe it out of her head. She had had a taste of what Gabe would be like now. And it was impossible to forget.
In the end, she reverted back to what she knew was true. Men were fickle. Gabe might have an “inconvenient” attraction to her—but it didn’t go beyond craving her female assets. Not worth a career-limiting move guaranteed to trash her future. She knew, because she’d suffered through an almost fatal one.
Wasn’t about to go there again.
“That’s it.” Susan shoved the tape measure into her hand and got to her feet. “I have all the stuff I need. Let’s get out of here and blow off some steam.”
Alex wrapped her hand around the tiny silver square, her lips twisting in a rueful smile. “It’s Thursday night in Napa. Where do people go to do that?”
“There’s a little restaurant in St. Helena where everyone goes on Thursdays. It’s the night to be there. And the chef’s from the Culinary Institute, which means yummy food.”
Oh, her stomach liked that idea. Her workload, however, did not. “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I have two hundred people left to research for my chemistry matches. I’m not going anywhere except the kitchen to beg Elena for dinner while I surf the Net. Care to join me for some exciting entertainment?”
“You need to get out.” Susan cast a critical eye over her. “No offense, but you look like crap.”
“I have a multimillion-dollar event in eight days,” Alex murmured dryly. “It’s not about looking good at this point—it’s about survival.”
Susan stuck her hand on her hip. “If I promise to help you with half of those names tomorrow, will you come out for a drink? We need to catch up.”
Alex eyed her as though she was suddenly plated in eighteen-karat gold. “I have some tough ones you could help with.”
“You buy the drinks—you’re on.”
Feeling like an escapee from prison, Alex packed up her things and checked with her team to see if they wanted to come. They pleaded fatigue, so she stripped off her jeans for the first time in weeks and put on a flirty summer dress. “Very cute bartender there,” Susan alerted her in the car. “You’ll like him.”
She was pretty sure she’d love anything that wasn’t a run sheet or budget tonight. And she did love quaint little St. Helena, the most adorable town in the heart of Napa, with tree-lined streets and cute shop fronts. In addition to its boutiques and restaurants, St. Helena also featured a campus of the Culinary Institute of America, giving it a bustling, hip atmosphere that was exactly what she needed tonight.
The chic restaurant was buzzing as they stepped inside. Done in a breezy, clean California style with original works of art on the whitewashed walls, it featured a long cherrywood bar that ran the length of the restaurant. The bar area and tables were packed with an affluent-looking Napa crowd.
They were lucky enough to score seats at the bar when a couple left. Which was fine with Alex, because Susan was right—the bartender was serious Scandinavian eye candy—tall, blond, built and funny to boot.
They ordered drinks and flirted with the Swede, who was a student at the Culinary Institute. It was hot in the jam-packed space, steaming hot, so she slipped off her sweater and turned to slide it over the back of her stool. The sight of Gabe tucked in an intimate little booth opposite them with a sleek-looking brunette who possessed more natural style in her pinkie than Alex had in her entire body stopped her cold.
He was dressed in jeans and a collared shirt, a lazy, confident smile playing about his lips as he focused on his dining partner. Her stomach did a swooping dive. What did the De Campo men always say? Take a woman out for dinner, flatter her outrageously, and you’re as good as there. She was pretty sure she’d never heard Gabe say it, but there was no doubt in her mind looking at the lazy smile on his face and the animated interplay between the two that that was exactly what Gabe had on his mind.
Her fingers tightened around the back of the stool. She had no claim on Gabe. She should be happy he was out with another woman so they could avoid the dangerous attraction between them. But really. How could he look at the other woman like that when he’d kissed her like he had just days ago?
Gabe’s gaze drifted away from his date to scan the room idly. And collided with Alex’s. She jerked her head back and aimed a look of pure nonchalance at him, but not before, she feared, her “I hate you” message was broadcast loud and clear. His eyes narrowed on her and he murmured something to his dinner companion and stood up. She calmly arranged her sweater on the chair.