The Gold Collection: Taming The Argentinian. Susan Stephens

good. You should be celebrating.’

      It felt good to be like this with a woman—making some sort of real contact outside of bed and having her stand up to him for once.

      ‘In fact, your wine’s so good,’ Grace went on, ‘I’m going to forgive most of your transgressions.’

      ‘I wasn’t aware that I was guilty of any,’ he said, warming even more to Grace.

      ‘Well, I’m going to move on to the next part of my evaluation,’ she said.

      ‘Which is?’ he said suspiciously.

      ‘Drinking your health,’ she said, disarming him.

      They both reached for the same glass at the same time and their fingers touched. Grace snatched her hand away, as if she’d been burned, while his inner voice warned that he was playing a very dangerous game indeed if he wanted to send Grace home, because he could only wish that touch had lingered.

      ‘This wine would benefit from being in storage a little longer,’ she said, purely business—though she couldn’t know his interest was now drawn to her lips. ‘I can tell you now that we won’t be ordering this one just yet. I’d like to taste it again next year.’

      ‘Next year?’ he repeated with amusement. ‘You’re very sure of yourself, Grace.’

      ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ she said. ‘Do you think I’ll have left Elias by then?’

      He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

      Grace could be enigmatic when it suited her, and at other times be surprisingly frank. He wasn’t used to mystery where women were concerned. He wasn’t used to them holding out on him, either. But Grace was different. Other women had a straightforward agenda that dovetailed nicely with his. They communicated their messages with a glance—an option that wasn’t open to Grace. Would she use that sort of tactic anyway? Grace was so forthright she was more likely to come straight out and tell him exactly what she wanted.

      Could be interesting, he mused as he watched her roll the wine around her mouth.

      ‘I need a moment,’ she said, feeling for a space on the table to put her glass. ‘I’d like to get some preparatory notes down. And while I’m doing that shall I e-mail Elias to warn him I shall be returning home tomorrow?’

      No woman had ever presented him with a veiled threat before, and Grace had done so in such a clever way that he would have to think up some equally elegant punishment for her. He knew just the thing, and his senses roared as he thought about it.

      ‘You mentioned seeing the wine in production,’ he remarked, easing back from the table. ‘So you can’t leave tomorrow. I want that order, Grace. And there’s an event I think you’d be interested in finding out more about.’

      ‘Well, if you want me to stay …’

      Clever girl, he thought, making it seem like his idea. ‘I want you to finish the job,’ he said. ‘And I want a positive outcome.’

      ‘Of course you do,’ she agreed.

      He wasn’t ready to let Grace go yet, he realised, when he saw the corner of her mouth tip up. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know everything about her.

      ‘What is this event?’ she asked, distracting him.

      ‘One of the wildest celebrations of the year—and extremely relevant,’ he added in a serious tone, pulling his mind away from its stroll on the dark side.

      ‘And you’re sure it’s important for me to know more about it?’

      ‘Positive,’ he said.

      Teasing Grace was a delight, he decided as she reached for her laptop.

      But as she took hold of it somehow she lost her grip, and as the computer slipped from her hands it sent bottles and wine glasses flying, spraying wine across the room.

      ‘No harm done,’ he said, snatching at Grace with one hand, to stop her falling, and her laptop with the other before it hit the floor.

      ‘I feel such an idiot!’ she exclaimed angrily.

      ‘Nothing’s damaged except your pride,’ he pointed out, but as he settled everything back in place, including Grace, he noticed that she was close to tears.

      Recovering fast, she sniffed noisily. ‘Did I get you?’ she said.

      He ruffled his hair. ‘Will it disappoint you too much if I say no?’

      When she smiled his heart nearly exploded. He reached forward on impulse—to say something, to reassure her, maybe—but as Grace turned to look at him with a rueful expression on her face, and he knew she couldn’t see him, a touch or an explanation of how he felt no longer seemed enough.

      He leaned forward and kissed her instead. It was a crazy, impulsive thing to do—and more telling than he could have imagined.

      ‘I’ll get a cloth,’ he said as she gasped, ‘and some soda water,’ he added, pulling back.

      ‘Please don’t worry,’ she said tensely, feeling the extent of the damage with her hands. ‘I can always soak my clothes overnight.’

      Something inside him snapped. ‘Do you always have to be so damned independent?’ he exclaimed with frustration.

      There was a pause, and then she said softly, ‘Yes, I do.’

CHAPTER SIX

      SHE’D made such a mess of everything. That was the only conclusion she could draw when she woke the next morning.

      For a moment she couldn’t move or think for her embarrassment. Her head was full of the wine flying everywhere and Nacho’s consoling kiss. It was a gesture he might have made towards Lucia in one of his softer moments, and there had been nothing more said about it when he had brought her home. He’d simply seen her to the door and then left.

      Grace’s only consolation was that she knew she had done a good job with the wine. Elias was right. The Acosta vineyards were producing wine of exceptional quality now. The only question was, could they sustain it? What condition were the vineyards in, for instance. At least she could take some pleasure in knowing she had the edge over Nacho at the tasting. It could take ten years or more to become a master sommelier, but she had such a passion for the work she was getting there quicker than most. But that could never be uppermost in her mind now, because Nacho occupied that spot.

      Swinging out of bed, she padded across the warm wooden floor in the direction of the open window, following the breeze. Opening the window a little more, she leaned over the sill to enjoy the sunshine. It was going to be a lovely day. She could smell the grass, its scent intensified by the dew, and the blossom that Nacho’s housekeeper had explained twirled in big fat loops around the window. She dipped her fingers into the cool damp petals, enjoying both the feel of them and their scent.

      She could smell horses too, Grace realised, raising her head. And hear them—along with a group of men’s voices.

      Conscious that she was only wearing pyjamas, she pulled back and stood to one side of the window, where she hoped she wouldn’t be seen. Those older, gruffer voices must belong to the gauchos who worked with the horses. She smiled to think they must be herding ponies right past her bedroom window. What an experience! Wild Criollas from the pampas, she guessed. The noise was growing louder and dust was tickling her nose.

      ‘I’d love to ride one,’ she informed Buddy, who had come to snuggle at her legs, no doubt as keen as she was to explore outside.

      The horses sounded like a crowd of naughty schoolchildren just set free for the holidays, Grace thought, listening hard for the distinctive prance of Nacho’s stallion. But even without him this was kind of exciting, with the gauchos whooping and whistling