She didn’t think so... She hadn’t eight years ago and she didn’t now. It was about time he looked at updating his marketing, Jess grumbled silently. Over the years she’d kept an eye on the vineyard and was saddened by its obviously diminishing market share. The advertising was dry, the labels boring and its promotion stuffy.
And, since she was the only one who’d ever hear it, she sent Luke Savage a silent I-told-you-so.
Jess widened her eyes at Ally, who was frowning in confusion. ‘My PA is just updating my iPad...what time was the briefing again?’ she lied.
‘Ten-thirty on Friday morning at the estate,’ Joel replied.
Bless his heart—he didn’t suspect a thing.
‘So, shall I have my PA look at flights?’
‘Uh...let me come back to you on that. I’ve been out for a day or two and haven’t quite caught up. I have clients in Cape Town to see, so I might fly in earlier,’ Jess fudged, and grimaced at Ally, who was now leaning forward, looking concerned.
‘Well, let me know,’ Joel told her before disconnecting.
Jess scrunched up her face. Damn Luke Savage and his injured pride. Her instinctive reaction was that the St Sylve campaign was hers—it had been hers eight years ago and it was still hers. There was no way she would allow another company to muck it up a second time...
Jess stood and placed her hands on her hips. ‘What do you know about St Sylve wines?’
Ally’s brown furrowed in thought. ‘The vineyard has produced some award-winning wines, but it hasn’t translated that into sales.’
It had taken a bit longer than Jess had thought, but her predictions about St Sylve had come true...and she felt sad. This was one of the few occasions when she would have been happy to be wrong...wished she was wrong. St Sylve was a Franschoek institution—one of the very few vineyards owned by the same family of French settlers who’d made their home in the valley in the early nineteenth century. She’d loved the three months she’d spent at the vineyard—had been entranced by the buildings, so typical of the architecture of the Cape Colony in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, with its whitewashed outer walls decorated with ornate gables and thatched roofs.
Apart from the main residence and guest house, the property still had its original cellar, a slave bell, stables and service buildings.
It also had Luke Savage, current owner, who’d fired her and kicked her off his property after kissing her senseless.
Jess quickly recounted her history with Luke to Ally, who was equally entertained and horrified. ‘He fired you?’
‘I deserved it. At twenty-two I thought I was God’s gift to the world,’ Jess replied.
Learning that she wasn’t had been painful, but necessary. While she hadn’t been wrong about the marketing of St Sylve—as she’d suspected, the campaign had been a dismal failure—she’d been arrogant, impulsive and rude, approaching him the way she had.
Jess paced the area in front of her desk. ‘As much as I hate to admit it, I owe Luke Savage a debt of gratitude for a major life lesson. I needed my wings clipped and to learn that being first in class, being able to regurgitate facts and figures from a textbook, means diddly-squat in the business world.’
Jess put her hands on her waist and looked at the ceiling. Then she sent Ally a rueful look. ‘We had this massive shouting match and then he kissed me. He was a dynamite kisser. A master of the art.’ She blew air into her cheeks. ‘The best ever.’
‘Ooh.’ Ally wiggled her bottom.
‘I don’t even know if I can call what happened between us kissing...it was too over-the-top outrageous to be labelled a simple kiss.’
But then Luke Savage had been anything but simple. Jess sighed. He’d been one long, tall slurp of gorgeousness: bold, deep green eyes, chocolate-cake-coloured hair, tanned skin. The list went on... Broad shoulders, slim hips and long, long legs...
‘Jess? Hello?’
Jess snapped her head up. ‘Sorry—mind wandering.’
‘He sounds delicious, but the question is...what are you going to do about St Sylve? Are you going to go to the briefing session?’
‘Without an invitation?’ Jess looked at the ceiling. ‘I’m tempted. I wish I could demand to implement a strategy for him.’ Images flashed through her head of possible advertisements. Her creative juices were flowing and she hadn’t even seen the brief yet. She really wanted to get stuck into dreaming up a new campaign for St Sylve.
But Luke was still the only man who’d ever short-circuited her brain when he kissed her...and if she was being sensible that was a really good reason not to work for him. She didn’t think she’d be very effective, constantly drooling over her keyboard.