Back in His Bed. Heidi Rice

snorted. “No, brothels are profitable.”

      “And so are wineries. You just have to be patient. Not that you’d have any idea what that concept is like,” she added under her breath.

      “Brenna…” Impatience tinged his voice, and the muscle in his jaw was working again.

      Enough defense. Time to take offense. “Who’s being hostile now?”

      “If I’m hostile, it’s only because you’re being completely unreasonable. Again.”

      Talk about a time warp. Less than a day and they were already settling back into their fighting stances. Oh, she’d love to throw something at him. “Don’t start.”

      His fingers tightened around his biceps. “I’d love to finish, actually.”

      She took a step back. “Why are you so hot to sell? This is Max’s legacy.”

      “Max’s legacy is Garrett Properties.”

      There was that sting of the slap again. “So would you be so quick to sell off a piece of that?”

      “If the price were right and the situation called for it, yes. It’s called business, Brenna.” He finally levered himself out of his casual lounging against the counter, and suddenly she felt as if she should keep something between them. This would be easier with a barrier keeping him from looming over her.

      “There’s the difference, Jack. This is more than just a business for me. It’s more than a paycheck and a profit margin. It’s my home. It’s all I’ve ever wanted and you know that.”

      “Really, Bren? This is what you want?”

      The question shook her, but she fought not to let it show. Instead, she crossed her arms, copying his earlier casual stance. “Of course.”

      Jack looked at her strangely, and she struggled to keep her face impassive. “Since when?”

      Another memory slammed into her. Of course Jack would have to remember the one thing she’d hoped he would forget. “It’s been a while, Jack. People change.”

      That damn eyebrow quirked up again. “Obviously.”

      Don’t let this turn personal. Focus on the business. “I’ll buy you out.”

      Jack looked at her in surprise. “You have that kind of money squirreled away someplace? I’m impressed, Bren.”

      “Well, no.” She paced as she tried to think fast. “I can’t do it now, but I will eventually. Maybe a little at a time over the next few years…”

      “I’m not shackling myself to this place indefinitely.”

      That’s right. He was just as trapped as she was with this partnership. That knowledge gave her a little spurt of courage and she smiled. “Then we seem to be at a stalemate.” Oh, that had to bother him, and the narrowing of his eyes told her she was right. She could end the night on a high note. “I’m going to bed. I have to get up early to get the grapes in. Make yourself at home. Or, better yet, go home. We’re done here.”

      He stepped in front of her, blocking her path of retreat. Once again she was too close to his body, and her libido reacted immediately. “No, we’re not.”

      She needed distance to get her body back under control, needed quiet and space to figure out what she was going to do. “Move.”

      “What? So you can stomp off again? Try to stall some more? Stave off the inevitable?”

      She had to tilt her head back, but she met his hard stare. “Inevitable? Selling is inevitable? Hardly.”

      “If you knew a thing about business, you’d know there’s no way this partnership can work as long as we’re at odds. You can sell now, or lose everything later.”

      Cold prickles climbed her spine. “You wouldn’t. You’d never intentionally let a business—any business—fail. It’s not in your DNA.”

      Jack stepped back, finally giving her the space she needed, and she inhaled in relief. The relief quickly faded, though, as he tossed down the gauntlet. “There’s a first time for everything, Brenna.”

      The sobering knowledge of what he was threatening settled around her. Granted, he couldn’t sell without her approval, but he could certainly make it next to impossible for her to do business at all. That scenario had never occurred to her, but something in his eyes told her he could do it. Would do it. Easily. Her eyes burned at the thought, and she bit the inside of her mouth to distract herself with physical pain. She would not cry in front of him, not now. She couldn’t get her voice above a whisper, though, when she asked, “Do you hate me that much?”

      His eyes raked over her before he answered. “It’s just business.”

      Oh, no, this crossed a line, no matter what he tried to say.

      “Go ahead and stomp off now, Bren, but think about what I’ve said. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

      Her knees were trembling, but Brenna tried hard to keep her head up as she left the kitchen. Once in the safety of her bedroom, she closed the door and leaned against it before her legs could give out completely.

      She’d never seen Jack like that. Not even after their last fight, when she’d packed her bags while Jack had called a car to bring her back here. When pushed, Jack turned silent and broody, not coldly calculating. And since Jack never made empty threats…Damn it. She’d been fooling herself to think they could move beyond their past and forge any kind of business relationship. She’d had no idea his dislike of her was so strong that he’d rather destroy everything Max had created out here than work with her.

      She looked skyward. “Why’d you do this to me, Max?”

      No answer came, and she flopped on the bed, wrung out, yet still jumpy from the evening.

      Jack’s sarcastic rebuttal of the one argument he really shouldn’t be able to question had thrown her off her game. Of all the things for Jack to bring up…Hell, she’d practically forgotten; why hadn’t he? Oh, the optimism and arrogance of an eighteen-year-old girl in love. She groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. Back then she’d figured Max and her mom would run Amante Verano forever. She, on the other hand, would take her knowledge out into the wide world, educating the masses on wine-making, visiting wineries in France and Italy and bringing new ideas back to their vineyard—in general, just getting the hell out of Sonoma and doing something more. Jack had embraced that idea, encouraged it.

      But the wide world hadn’t had a place for her, and she’d come home. Then her mom had died…

      Amante Verano was where she belonged, it seemed. And she’d accepted that, thrown herself into it, made it her life.

      She couldn’t let Jack undermine that. Not now. No matter how much Jack hated it.

      Or her.

      For the second time that day Jack let Brenna stomp away, wondering when he’d lost his lauded ability to finesse a situation. What had possessed him to think he’d be able to handle this negotiation just like any other of the hundreds he’d done? Make the plan, work the plan—common sense and good business tactics had always worked for him before. Except when it came to Brenna. Bren just knew the right buttons to push to cause him to lose his temper—a hard pill to swallow, since he never let his temper loose any other time.

      Hell, who was he kidding? Brenna was his button. Nothing between them had ever been steady or calm or predictable. It was all drama and tension and theatrics.

      Oh, they’d started with a bang. But once the initial glow had faded their relationship had fallen apart with alarming speed. All the dreams and plans and excitement had crumbled under the strain of reality, and “love” just hadn’t been enough. Before long they’d just made each other miserable.

      Except