But he liked being down here, at the heart of the winery, rather than in the new offices he’d installed as the business expanded. He loved the scents of old wood and ripe fruit, the shadows and shapes of vats and barrels, the continuity between him and those before him who’d toiled over this earth for generations, making the wine for which the region was renowned.
He smiled, thinking of Paolo, the nuggetty, weathered man who’d been his boss and mentor, and was now his friend and partner. The old guy had worked hard for decades. He deserved the comfort of a padded seat and an endless supply of decent coffee while he took a break from vineyard work.
If only Aurelio could convince him to take it easy more often.
He glanced at his watch and grimaced. He was late for their meeting. Aurelio waved to one of the cellar hands, reminded him about a vat that needed cleaning, and strode out into the sunlight.
Instantly his gaze went, not to the new tasting room and administrative building, but to the nearest slope of grapes. The precious bunches were already forming. With luck it would be another good season.
Tempted as he was to detour to the vines, he headed for the building. Acquiring a new public relations and marketing consultant was critical. He and Paolo had narrowed the choice down to two front runners to win the contract. But since he was trying to get Paolo to slow down, not devote so much time to physical work, he’d left it to the old man, who had an instinct for people as well as vines, to make the final choice. That minor heart attack last year was a warning. If Paolo wouldn’t heed it, Aurelio did. By hook or by crook, he’d get his partner to spend more time off his feet.
Paolo favoured the older, established firm. Not Aurelio’s first choice, but he knew the company would do an excellent job. The alternative, an energetic one-woman dynamo, wasn’t Paolo’s style.
Aurelio’s step faltered. That choice was too fraught to consider.
His thoughts slewed to Rome and the presentations he’d watched there.
To Amber Moncrieff.
His pace slowed even as his pulse picked up, his heart hammering an all-too familiar, needy rhythm against his ribs. Familiar because that’s what happened whenever he thought of Amber.
She invaded his thoughts on a regular basis. Too regular.
Sighing, he raked his hand across his scalp.
He’d done the right thing, ending it.
He had no regrets. She’d known the score, and so had he.
Except it still felt like they had unfinished business. He’d left the city a month and a half ago and still he couldn’t settle into routine. It had taken far more willpower than it should have not to answer her call.
Even as he’d known it was for the best, it hadn’t felt right. He might prefer burying himself in the demands of his vineyard to socialising, but he’d never before stooped to avoiding a call.
As if he was worried he wouldn’t be able to maintain his distance if he heard her voice, soft and beckoning in his ear!
Grimacing, Aurelio headed into the new building. He was torn between relief and disappointment that he wouldn’t see her again.
If there’d been any chance that Amber would win the job, he’d never have slept with her. She’d known by then that she’d missed out on the contract, for he’d made no secret of the fact Paolo was in detailed discussions with the rival firm. Knowing Paolo, Aurelio had understood it was simply a matter of time before the larger company came on board. Which meant there’d been no conflict of interest between work and desire when he and Amber spent that week together.
In that time Amber hadn’t once mentioned marketing. But then they’d both had other things on their minds.
It had been hard leaving her. Surprisingly even harder to sever all contact. But their break had to be absolute.
No ties, no emotional complications. That’s how he needed it. It was the only way he could operate.
Aurelio marched into the building, feeling out of sorts, only to slam to a halt as his nostrils caught an unexpected scent. Honeysuckle and sunshine.
He frowned, his senses going into overdrive.
He was imagining things, he had to be.
One of the office workers was trying out a new perfume, that’s all. Except this wasn’t just honeysuckle. There was added depth to the aroma. A depth that reminded him of summer but, he’d assumed, was something to do with the reaction of the scent on warm, female flesh.Amber’swarm flesh to be precise.
Shaking his head, Aurelio strode down the corridor to the meeting room. The woman had even sabotaged his sense of smell — a vital tool for a winemaker!
Husky laughter caught his attention, the sound swirling like early morning mist around his tight chest. Heat flared, bright and powerful, in his belly, radiating through him, making him overwarm in the pullover he wore while working in the cool winery.
Yet the skin at his nape prickled. That laugh—