They were in the vineyard together when she asked him.
‘I’ll come,’ Franco said, albeit warily, ‘if that’s what Gus wants.’ Since the night of the party he’d kept his distance, but to her credit, Holly had too, and he’d wondered whether she’d been right when she’d told him she wasn’t the needy type. But while he’d kept his distance, it hadn’t stopped him wanting her. He told himself he had no choice, that maybe they might still renege on signing the contract if he didn’t agree, but selfishly he knew that keeping his distance was killing him, and that a weekend in Sydney could be mutually beneficial. There was still more he could teach her, he told himself, if she wanted. ‘But I’ll have to get a suit. What are you wearing?’
She sucked air between her teeth. ‘That’s just it. I don’t have anything yet.’
He smiled at that, in spite of the anticipation growing in his loins. ‘Of course you don’t.’
‘I was planning on going into the Mount tomorrow and having a look.’
‘Into Mount Gambier?’ He swore under his breath in his mother’s tongue. He was doing a bit of that lately, but then he had good cause this time.
‘I heard there’s a sale on at Betty’s Drapery. I thought I’d check it out tomorrow.’
‘A sale. At Betty’s Drapery. You do realise this function is at the Opera House and that you may very well win and you will be going up on a podium to speak and you will be filmed and photographed a thousand times from a thousand different angles.’
He saw her blanch, watched her throat constrict as she swallowed. ‘This dress is going to have to be something extraordinary, and you think you’ll find it at Betty’s on a sale rack?’
She balled her fists, tears squeezing from her eyes. ‘I hate this. Why does everything have to be so complicated? I just want to grow my grapes and make my wine and now this has to happen and what am I going to do?’
‘Simple,’ he said. ‘Go to Betty’s if you must, and buy yourself something to wear on the plane that isn’t khaki, and then we’ll find you a decent dress in Sydney.’
He’d changed their flights to two days earlier to give them time to go shopping. And now she watched the changing view of the cliffs and coastline as their plane circled before landing in Sydney. Today the city was bathed in sunshine, the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House, iconic features of the beautiful harbour, standing proud.
She didn’t really think it could take two days to find one suit and a dress, but clearly she didn’t know a whole lot about shopping for major events and it was nice to let Franco take charge of this part of the arrangements. She was nervous enough about Saturday as it was without worrying about anything else.
First would come the pre-dinner drinks, where the six finalists were all introduced to the guests and each had a few minutes to talk about their inspiration, their influences and their vision. Holly’s speech was a lot about Gus. She figured it was the only chance she’d get to speak and she wanted him to be recognised when he’d done so much to shape her into the winemaker she was, especially when he couldn’t be there in person.
Then on to the formal dinner before the announcement of the winner at nine after which they would thankfully go home and life would return to normal.
Or not quite normal in her case.
She wasn’t sure it would ever be normal again.
There was a car waiting for them outside arrivals. A red one, with bright red duco and gleaming chrome. She just looked at it and laughed. ‘A Maserati? You actually got a Maserati?’
‘What choice did I have? They were all out of helicopters.’
She smiled up at him as he held open the door for her. ‘I just hate it when that happens.’
Whoa, she thought as he manoeuvred the beast into the Sydney traffic. And not only because of the acceleration. But because for a moment there she’d felt a connection, a thread of shared experiences that made for a private joke.
An insanely expensive private joke.
‘Have you got a licence to drive this thing?’
‘Relax, I’m half Italian. It’s in the blood.’
Maybe it was, she thought as she breathed in air flavoured with the unfamiliar taste of the big smoke, and relaxed back in her seat. Right now she was here in Sydney with this gorgeous man in this audacious car and she was going to enjoy it.
She watched him as he relished being in control of this monster, putting on a burst of acceleration to squeeze into a gap in the next lane with apparent ease. She didn’t want to think about how much the insurance excess was on this baby, but he seemed totally relaxed. But then, he was made for driving a car like this, or maybe a car like this was designed to surround a man like him—European design, at its core wild and untamed, all wrapped up in a civilised—if very sexy—package.