Page 19 of Talk Vino To Me

Mr. Worthington’s brow inches up the tiniest fraction. “That’s an interesting perspective. Perhaps we were not the right age to appreciate them.”

“I actually had a poster of him on my wall.” Ian’s jaw drops as his parents blink at me. I plunge on. “Of the band, I mean. Not only Ian. But their songs were about big feelings, and wanting to be more than I felt I could be. They inspired me. It’s why I do this work now. To help others realize their potential.”

“Isn’t that marvelous?” Mrs. Worthington gives me another one of those sharp, assessing gazes. “I’m impressed that all those years of music lessons helped you to help this lovely young lady.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Ian.” Kel’s tone is firm, yet apologetic. “It’s time for the next phase.”

“Thanks, Kel.” Ian kisses his mother’s cheek a second time, and offers his father a brief salute. “Excuse me, Mum, Dad. I’ll catch up with you later. Daisy?”

“Right behind you.” I nod at the Worthingtons and quickly follow Kel and Ian.

“That was your fifteen minute warning,” she says. I’d built in nice big gaps so that Ian didn’t feel rushed at any point in the day. I’m grateful Kel was around to keep us on track. I didn’t know how handy that would be in getting away from this awkward conversation.

We’re silent as we walk back toward the tasting room. I purse my lips. He’s not going to ignore what I said. He can’t. Never mind that we’re heading into the opening of this winery, one of the biggest days of his career in years. This is too good to pass up.

“I just want to know one thing,” he drawls. He’s taken on a bit of his parents’ mishmash of accents.

“Yes?”

“Which poster was it that you had on your wall? Because we had half a dozen of them, easy.”

“Never you mind which one it was,” I say primly. “That is between me and my old bedroom door.”

“I bet it was the one on Bondi Beach, in those tiny swim trunks. That one was the most popular.”

I don’t respond. Nothing good can come of this conversation.

“I’m just curious. You’ve been objectifying me since you were a tiny slip of a girl. I think I deserve?—”

“Oh, my cheese and rice. I. Am. Not. Telling.” The heat in my cheeks has probably given it away.

As we pass from one room to the next, Ian grabs my hand and pulls me into his office. I follow him willingly. He sits on the corner of his desk and stares at me until I ask, “What?”

“Are we okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have I done something wrong?” That tiny frown deepens as he folds his arms across his chest. “I want to make sure that you don’t regret last night.”

I look away, unable to meet his gaze. “No. No. That was... extraordinary. I do not have a single regret about our time together.”

“But?”

“But that’s personal. This day is all business. I like to keep a clear line of separation between those two parts of my life.”

“So no putting my arm around you in front of my parents. Gotcha.”

I sigh in relief. “Right. Your mother looks like she’s ready to marry you off to the first woman who’ll take you. I am not trying to be in the path of that hurricane.”

“She’ll get over it, I promise you. But you know what?” He takes my hand again and pulls me toward him. Our bodies line up from top to toe, touching at hips and waist. My nipples immediately harden, pressed up against his chest. Ian bends down, touching his forehead to my own.

“What?” I say, breathless.

“We’re alone now, aren’t we?” My eyes are closed, but I don’t need them to picture the sexy smile he’s got on his face. I can hear it in his voice.

“We are indeed.” I lick my lips. Ian’s thumb traces the path my tongue took. I shiver in response.

“And what are we going to do about that?” he asks.