Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,54
the loading dock? I’ve got a situation here and I can’t get back to the office.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Okay. If I can find it.” For all of his meticulous care of the grape plants, Leonard’s desk was a bit of a mess.
She trudged back to the winery. Leonard’s office was stuffy and hot. She opened a window before shuffling a few things around, looking for the invoices. Something else caught her eye, a slim booklet printed on cream-colored paper. The front cover read “Hollander Estates Vineyard, North Fork, Long Island.” She flipped it open and realized immediately it was a sales brochure. Their home, their life’s work, on the chopping block. She felt a flash of anger toward her husband.
The stonework around the property is imported European red slate. The landscaping of both the winery and the private residence reflects rustic North Fork authenticity; the house evokes the sophistication and elegance of the great châteaux of Bordeaux, France.
Who had written this? “Evokes Bordeaux” indeed. No one who had spent time at a grand cru vineyard would ever make that comparison. Sometimes, when the weather was cool and misty, she was pulled back to that long-ago visit to the château. As hard as she’d tried to forget, it still snuck up on her. The first morning, she had woken up to moody skies and a dampness that permeated the walls of the château. She had wrapped herself in cashmere before making her way downstairs for breakfast. Leonard, shivering in his wool blazer, said, “Have the French ever heard of heating?”
At breakfast, the baron made good on his promise to show her the horse stables; he announced they would be going riding.
“Oh! I didn’t pack any clothes . . .”
He waved away her concern. “Natasha has everything you could possibly need.”
Vivian borrowed breeches and boots but was disappointed to find that Natasha wouldn’t be joining them.
“I’m recovering from tennis elbow,” she said. “I haven’t been able to ride in weeks. Henri is ready to kill me.”
Despite the convivial evening the night before, Vivian wasn’t comfortable around the baron. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about him set her on edge. Back upstairs in their room, when she was supposed to be changing for the outing, she shared her misgivings with Leonard.
“If you don’t go, he’ll be insulted,” Leonard said.
“So come along.”
“I don’t ride, and it will make me look weak. Please—just be a sport.”
Leonard was so excited about the potential partnership he would have offered up their firstborn to seal the deal.
“Fine,” she said.
Vivian knew that once she was in the saddle she would feel in her element—possibly the only scenario at the estate that would let her feel in control.
A servant led her to the stables, where two horses, a bay mare with beautiful coronet bands and a smaller palomino, were dressed in English saddle. The baron stood next to the mare, patting her shoulder. He smiled when he saw Vivian, and this time, it seemed to actually reach his eyes.
“I’m happy to have company for my ride today. Natasha injured herself over the summer during a much less refined sporting activity.”
“Yes, she told me. Well, I’m always happy for the chance to ride. I don’t have time for it back home.”
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “One must always make time. Do you have stables?”
She smiled. “We just renovated our house, so we have stables. But they’re empty.”
“You must fix that. Come.” He beckoned her toward the palomino. “He’s a very gentle soul.”
She approached the horse’s left side, patting his neck. She looked around for a mounting block, and the baron said, “I’ll help you up.”
“Oh no—that’s fine. I’ve got it,” she said. But he moved close to her as if she hadn’t said anything. His eyes, which had seemed gray the night before, were now the same blue as the sky. He smelled faintly of tobacco and something she couldn’t identify, but the combination made her feel weak in her riding boots. In his nearness, she realized why he made her so uncomfortable: she was desperately attracted to him.
He bent down, linking his gloved hands together to offer her a platform for mounting the horse. Only when she was firmly in the saddle, the reins in her hand, did her breathing steady. She knew that no matter how fast she galloped, it wouldn’t be nearly as fast as her racing heart.
It was the only time they were alone together that trip. And for