Page 10 of Talk Vino To Me
“Fair enough. I don’t actually know any children.”
“I do, and I can confirm. It’s all about rizz or whatever now.”
“What the hell is that?”
“No idea. My little cousin said it to me. I had to use the private window on my search engine so she wouldn’t see me look it up.”
“Anyway, I suspect there’s something between us, Dez. Or there could be.”
I lick my lips. The way her eyes track the movement of my tongue gives me the courage to keep going.
“Please, tell me if I’m misreading the situation here. Because if not, when this is over, I would very much like to take you out to dinner.”
“Ian...”
“We’re packing up now,” Marta announces. Daisy straightens her face and walks over to Marta. Whatever she was about to say is lost in the face of her professional smile and manner. She consults with the photographer and assistants, presumably about the best way to get back into the city. I try not to sulk about the distraction.
We’re in the same house, I remind myself. Dez and I have all the time in the world. I shouldn’t be in such a damned hurry. After all, my job is making this wine business a success. Not wooing gorgeous public relations people who’ve been dropped at my doorstep.
“So what happened?” Marta’s question pulls my focus back from the too close, too tempting woman in front of me.
“What’s that? What happened to whom?”
“What did your band do with the substitute guy?” She hands her SLR to one of the young women, who applies its lens cap, and carries it reverently over to a foam lined case. I’m impressed that Marta trusts her enough to hand the thing off.
Dez jumps in before I can answer. “Nothing. The temp lasted for six months. Then Shred returned from his retreat. The guy stayed for another month until Shred got up to speed with the new songs, and the band released him.”
Her jaw is tense and her eyes stormy. I’m shocked. Who knew felt so strongly about it, or was so deep into the band’s history?
“What she said.” The temporary guy — what the hell was his name, anyway? — really was an excellent bassist. He did a fine job filling in. But he wasn’t Shred. He knew it, the band knew it, and the fans definitely knew it. We wished him well, paid him a generous bonus, and sent him on his way. I’m pretty sure that was the last time any of us thought of him.
Marta and her staff leave, trailing their massive trolleys of equipment behind them. Dez and I see them out, waving as they drive off like a couple of parents sending their kids off to college.
I’ve never been so grateful to see the back of anyone in my life. My nerves are stretched taut. I need to hear Daisy’s answer.
We walk over to the golf cart. I open the door for Dez. She looks up at me, and her expression is so cool that I nearly shiver.
“Thank you, but no thanks. I’m going to ride back over to the house.” She gestures toward the row of ten speeds we’ve got lined up outside the property. “I could use the exercise.”
“Okay.” I’m thrown off kilter by the chill in her tone.
“And I...” she pauses for the briefest moment before plunging on. “I appreciate the thought, Ian, and I’m flattered. But… I don’t think it’s a good idea to blur those lines.”
“Of course.” My throat is so tight I can barely get the words out. “Thank you for letting me down so gently.”
“When I get back, I’ll arrange for a ride back into the city and get out of your hair.”
“What? Why?” The intensity in my voice surprises even me. “There’s no need for that.”
Confusion makes her frown. “I assumed you’d want me out of the house…?”
“It’s easier for us to work together if you’re here, right? Rather than commuting every day?” She hesitates. We both know it is.
“If you want to go, then by all means, do. But if this is about my ego, then please don’t worry. I’ve got enough of that for me and several other blokes.”
As I hoped, she laughs. The tightness around her eyes eases.
“If you don’t want to be alone with me, I can have Daphne and her wife come stay here, too, if you’d be more comfortable? They’re here often enough that they’ve got their own guest room.”