He didn’t leave the home without also getting caught up in a hug or two.
“You handled that well,” she said, “but then I’ve noticed you’re very good with people.”
He glanced at Carly. “Thank you.” He smiled but he worked hard to appear as relaxed and as normal as possible. His heart-rate had just climbed aboard the space shuttle and launched. Carly had no way of knowing that she’d just given him the key to her winery.
He drove her back to her house in Uptown, but when she invited him inside, he said he had to get back to the hotel and make a very long round of phone calls, which yesterday’s perfect interlude had prevented him from making. She said she understood and he turned to go. He had plans to make…right now.
But after he’d taken just a few steps, Carly called after him.
“Hey, Mr. Barron.”
Quint turned around, not certain what she wanted. Had he given himself away? Had she already guessed what he meant to do? “What?” he asked.
She smiled then laughed. “You had better come kiss me good-bye.”
Relief flooded him. He laughed and threw his keys up in the air, catching them on the way down. “I’m a little distracted,” he said. He returned to her front door and plowed into her mouth.
She drew back and with a discreet hand she stroked him. “Sure you don’t want to stay, just for a little bit?’
He shook his head. “There is no ‘staying for a little bit’ with you, something I’ve come to understand and I have critical calls to make that can’t wait. How about I come by when I’m done, although it’ll be late. After nine.”
She nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll be waiting.”
He kissed her one last time, returned to his car then hopped in. He waved to her and backed out of the driveway. He restrained himself for at least a mile before he let out a shout of triumph. He pictured the winery, pictured the attachment of Red Canyon Vineyards to his list of assets, pictured all the deals he would get done there and he gave another shout. To say he liked winning was to say dirt and water made mud.
When he got to the hotel, he called Brad, explained the situation then suggested he make contact with Mr. Simms. “Find out what price Carly has offered then fish around to see if Simms would be willing to negotiate with another entity for a much larger figure. Given that he’s retiring, I feel certain the answer will be yes. And do it right away, Brad. I want this deal locked and loaded by the time I’ve sent the Napa clients back to California.”
Silence followed. Quint frowned as he stared down at his calendar on the desk in his hotel room. Brad was never this quiet.
“Hey,” he sent through the wires, “you still there?” When Brad continued to remain silent, Quint knew something was up. “What’s on your mind, Hansen?” He couldn’t imagine what concern Brad would bring forward. The set-up was perfect.
“Are you sure you want to go this direction?”
“Of course. What do you think I’ve been doing in Sedona all this time?
“I don’t know. Falling in a love with a beautiful, intelligent woman who appears to really get you?”
Quint laughed. “Are you out of your mind?” But that weird sensation grabbed his chest again, like something was in there digging around.
“So, then you’re just boning her to get her winery.”
The crass depiction of his relationship with Carly set his head on fire. “You’re out of line talking like that and if you ever make that kind of statement about Carly again, I will personally pound you into the cement.”
For some inexplicable reason, Brad laughed outright. “That’s what I thought.” He laughed some more.
Quint didn’t get it. “And what the hell is so funny? You think I can’t take you?”
Brad coughed and sputtered. “Oh, I’m sure you can but I think there’s something I should tell you. You know how when you were down here yesterday and Carly was in the hall talking to Sheila?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember how you said you thought you might be having some early-warning signs of heart problems?”
Quint didn’t think he liked the direction of this conversation. “What’s your point?”
“Is it possible that after all these years, you might be actually growing a heart?”
Quint snorted. “Very funny and by the way, we’re though talking about this, any of it. Now get on the Simms project.”
“Done.”
Brad hung up, thank God.
Quint dissected the ‘heart’ portion of the conversation as he watched the second hand of the Tokyo clock tick around the dial. Growing a heart? What the hell had Brad meant by that anyway? His heart was big enough. He built strong companies that provided thousands of jobs for decent people. That was a big enough heart for anyone in any lifetime.
Wait a minute. Did Brad mean Carly?
So that was it.
He sat down at his desk. He stared at nothing and thought of her. His head felt loose, full of water. He couldn’t think straight. Was he in love with her?
He didn’t believe in love, at least not for himself. Others…maybe. He didn’t know. He sure as hell lusted for her, that much he knew and he’d let her in more than he had any other woman he’d been with.
He sighed. His plan had been so simple, so perfect and it was working…except…dammit, was he going to hurt Carly in all of this? He didn’t want to. He really didn’t. Of course she would be disappointed about the winery, but he would offer a more-than-fair price for the property and she’d be a rich woman for it. She was strong, rational, sensible. She’d handle the loss, just as she handled everything else in her life, with poise, grace and dignity.
He just needed to remind her of their original understanding—that he intended to take her winery and that he’d be gone once the Napa weekend drew to a close.
Well, that would help, to reaffirm their agreement.
He nodded several times and the weight lifted from his chest.
Okay.
Now that that he’d settled on a plan of action, he rose from his chair then started to pace his temporary office. Energy flooded his veins. He’d set his goal, he’d worked the situation as each roadblock came at him, he’d stuck it out and he’d won. He just had to see the rest of his plan through to the end, and the winery would be his. Game. Set. Match.
* * * * * * * * *
The next day, Carly stood in her tour lobby, waiting to take her next tour up Schnebly Hill Road.
Tina smiled at her. “Hey, I keep forgetting to ask. How’s the winery house looking these days?” She folded and smoothed the souvenir sweatshirts until they were perfect.
Carly shook her head. “Oh, Tina. It’s gorgeous. Sylvie took Grace’s designs and put it all together like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Well, at least you get a beautifully decorated house out of this.”
Tina’s accurate words shattered something inside Carly like she’d pitched a rock through a thin sheet of glass. Her throat constricted. “You know, I would trade it all if I could have Quint, really have him.” Oh, God. She’d said it out loud, the truth of her heart. Her eyes burned.
Tina’s gaze shot to hers. “Carly Marie Grayson, what are you saying?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Say it anyway, fool.”
Her lips turned down and the burn in her eyes became a flood. “I’m in love with him, dammit.”
“Aw,” Tina murmured. She left her sweatshirt-folding detail and hurried over to Carly. She hugged her hard. After a moment, she pulled back. “You weren’t supposed to fall in love with him, just, you know, shag him.”
Carly laughed. “I kept telling you he was trouble for me, but would you listen? No.”
Tina sighed. “But hey, if he doesn’t do right by you, send him to me. I’ll put him straight.”
She drew back then punched her left fist into the open palm of her right hand.
Carly laughed all over again but the whole time her eyes leaked. She s
wiped at her cheeks.
“So how was Phoenix, anyway?”
“I had a wonderful time. You were right to make me go.”
Tina returned to her sweatshirts and picked up a purple one. “And how about Harry? Did he have a good time? He told me he intended to introduce you to his employees and take you to meet a couple of his COOs. Was he relaxed or did he seem bugged by it?”
Carly moved to lean her hips against the opposite side of the table. Out the window she could see tourists gathering behind the requisite line. “You know, I think he really got into it. He complimented me as well. Yeah, I think he had a good time.”
Tina stood up straight, a navy sweatshirt in hand this time. “So Harry liked showing you off?”
“Well, it wasn’t that he was showing me off. He introduced me as a business associate from Sedona. The thing is, he’s worth even more than you and I ever thought. That kind of freaks me out.”
Tina shrugged and worked at smoothing the hood back on the sweatshirt. “It’s just money. Bob’s family has gazillions, too, but you’d never know it. His grandfather refused to let any of his children act like jerks. And I love them all so see there’s hope for Harry, too.”
“Except for one thing. Quint made all his money.”
“And so did Bob’s grandfather. He owned a copper mine when copper boomed. Can you imagine?”
“Pretty amazing.”
“So did you feel like a couple while you were in Phoenix?”
“Kind of. You should have heard him talk in the car all the way back to Sedona. He shared things I never thought he would.”
Tina raised her brows and nodded. “Very hopeful.”
Carly frowned. Hopeful for what? A long-term relationship with a man who hadn’t deviated even a little from his original plan? “He hasn’t changed his tune about this being over between us once his Napa guests leave my winery. He said as much on the phone this morning. He said he just wanted to make sure that I understood he’d be leaving after the Napa guests departed.”
Tina frowned and her movements slowed until her hands rested on a green sweatshirt. “He’s a broken record. So…break the damn record.”
“How?”
Tina shrugged. “I don’t know but don’t wimp out like you did with Jeff.”
“I did not wimp out.”
“Yes, you did.”
Carly sighed. “Yeah, I did.” But as she compared the two men…again…she realized there was so much more at stake for her with Quint than there ever had been with Jeff. “I was too agreeable when Jeff and I were together, too willing to let him lead, I see that now.”
“Yes, you were.”
Carly shook her head. “But I haven’t been that way with Quint. Not even a little.”
“Good. The worst thing you could do with a man like Harry is let him get away with anything. Stand your ground no matter what he says or does.”
Carly felt something inside her shift and she smiled. “I’ve changed,” she said, standing a little taller. “I used to let Jeff intimidate me, but not Quint, not even early on when I learned who he was and realized that I was David challenging my Goliath.”
Tina grinned. “Atta girl. And just remember, you have time. More than a week. Given everything you’ve told me, that’s plenty of time to get him squared away.”
* * * * * * * * *
Quint worked like a madman every day to get work-related things done by seven o’clock at night so he could get back into bed with Carly. He’d become a stranger to himself, driven toward a woman like she was the target and he was a bullet fired from a high-powered rifle.
He didn’t analyze his behavior too much except that he knew he was running out of time with Carly. He’d taken steps to make sure that she knew he wouldn’t be back after he closed the Napa deal and she said she understood, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was more attached to him than she should be. Therefore, he owed it to her to keep his part in the bargain. He needed to end things with a clean break, on time, just as he said he would.
The trouble was, he didn’t want this time to end. If he thought she wouldn’t get hurt, he’d ask her to be with him a little longer. He’d never enjoyed sex so much and of course it was just sex, but sex with Carly was sex to the tenth.
Every night he would leave his hotel promising himself that this time, this night, he would take her out to dinner. But as soon as she opened the front door of her house and smiled, he crossed the threshold, picked her up and carried her to her bed. He’d kept the take-out businesses in the area on their toes for that reason. He also put smiles on the faces of delivery personnel because he doled out handsome tips. Mostly, he just wanted them to leave quick so he could get back to business.
* * * * * * * * *
Carly thought this was how women must feel on their honeymoons, a little sore and achy but caught in the most exquisite dream, a dream that repeated every single night. It began in Quint’s arms and ended with him deep inside her and driving hard. Every night, she got stuck on this pleasure loop that began and ended only to begin once more. The loop kept her mind in a sunken delirious state and her heart turned to mush like soft peas under a fork.
She was happy.
She was so happy.
But underneath all that delirium and satiation a monster clawed. Generally, she took a bat to the monster’s head and kept it unconscious. Then the early hours of the morning would rise up and smack her. The monster would surface and even with Quint’s arms fastened around her like the rope of a yacht holding a ship snug against a pier, she would tremble and often dampen her pillow with tears.
She couldn’t seem to budge Quint from his we’re-through-after-the-Napa-deal. She’d brought it up three times and each time he shook his head and said, “Remember our agreement.”
The third time, though, she’d asked, “Are you sure? This has been pretty great.”
He’d frowned. He’d kissed her fingers. “If I thought I had anything to give you, I mean really give you, I’d ask you to move to Phoenix. But as much as I love sharing your bed, I have never seen myself as the boyfriend type. Please understand this about me.” Again, he put his lips on her fingers. “Please. I don’t want you to get hurt in this. Tell me you understand what I’m saying.”
“I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty. You’ve had integrity with me from the first.”
He’d kissed her on the lips after that then he’d made love to her. She’d forced her throat to relax. She reminded herself to savor the moment, because pretty soon, unless she could somehow forge a miracle, there would be no more moments.
But what she didn’t understand was how he could make love to her like this every night, for hours¸ and yet remain unmoved?
The days melted away under the scorch of the summer heat and the rising humidity, which by the start of the fourth week in July brought the long-awaited monsoon storms pounding the red canyon world in which she lived and now loved.
She strove every day to take as much pleasure as she could from the man in her bed. She worked to keep from letting the advance of days grind her heart into a powder of despair. She wrung every drop of joy from Quint’s company.
More than once, though, after he’d stretched himself out on top of her and worked his magic, he had allowed himself to talk about his life, his work, even offering more details about all the moves his family has made when he was a child, the desperate fears he’d lived with but also the way he’d learned to talk to himself to keep his chin up at each successive school.
She listened to him, soaked up every expression, memorized the blue of his eyes and the sensual shape of his lips. Then she’d respond from her own experiences. How many times did he seem surprised by what she’d say? He would turn to her, his head supported by bent elbow and flat hand as he would respond, I never looked at it like that before.
But what he did after was even worse, but so sublime. He would ask about her life and listen as she shared. The sharing had become SOP but
why didn’t he see that as significant, critical, portentous? Why was he so closed off to the future? To her? To a future with her?
She thought she understood. His childhood had been a hell of poverty, his mother had died early and his father had been a wretched example of domestic chaos and indifference. How could Quint know what was normal, or good, or even necessary? She had called it right in those early days, she’d struck gold but Quint was a vein she couldn’t tap.
The last night before the Napa guests were due to arrive, Carly moved with Quint out to the now complete and beautifully furnished winery house. Nothing had changed for him. He took her to bed and ravished her willing body.
Nothing had changed for Carly either. She woke up at three-thirty, her hour of reckoning, and again soaked her pillow until she fell asleep once more hammered with despair.
She had four days, four lousy days to somehow convince Quint Barron that to let her go would be the sorriest mistake of his life.
Chapter Nine
The following afternoon, the Napa guests arrived via limousine.
Carly stood beside Quint next to the rust granite island. The chef she had hired for the weekend, simmered a Bolognese sauce on a back burner. Several bottles of Shiraz stood uncorked and waiting.
She cocked her head at the group just rounding the corner, led by the housekeeper hired for the weekend.
She recognized them all from their photos.
The blond beauty, a few years Carly’s senior and married to Gerald Thompson, weaved on her feet even though Paul Frazier supported her.
“I think she might be drunk,” Carly whispered as the group entered the great room.
“Not quite the beginning I’d hoped for,” Quint murmured.
“Why is she holding Paul Frazier’s arm?”
“Well that’s just terrific,” Quint muttered.
Carly shook her head and waited as Quint moved forward to greet his guests. Not surprising, the evening slid all the way downhill from there.
Gerald never stopped drinking his scotch. Paul ignored his wife. Hailey kept a glass of wine going until at least two bottles had been drained. Amanda Dillon developed a monstrous migraine and retired with her husband, Scott, to their bedroom.