at best. Lori would jump at the opportunity but had the imagination of a flea, and Catherine wasn’t worth discussing.
“I should talk to Rhys about hiring someone to take over his job,” she said, thinking out loud. “Then he could step in for me.”
“You haven’t talked to him about that yet?” Giorgio sounded more hurt than angry.
“I’ve meant to.”
He set down his champagne glass. “Barbara, do you want us to spend more time together?”
“Of course. We’ve talked about traveling together. I look forward to that.”
He took her hand in his. “Then I’ll make you a deal. You plan the wedding of your dreams and I’ll do the same with the honeymoon.”
All of which sounded perfectly fine, she thought warily, but wasn’t the same thing at all.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, trying not to sound cautious.
He slid closer. “I’ve been thinking about a cruise.”
“I’ve never been on a cruise.”
“You’ll love it. I’ll find a wonderful itinerary. I was thinking of Australia and the South Pacific. Maybe we can sail from Los Angeles.”
He lowered his head and began to kiss along her neck.
“From Los Angeles,” she said, trying to ignore the tingles and heat he evoked. “That’s a long cruise.”
“Two months.”
“What?” she asked with a yelp. “You want us to be gone for two months?”
He straightened and smiled. “No, three months. After that we’ll fly to Italy and rent a villa, then explore.”
Three months! Was he insane?
“I can’t be gone that long,” she began. “Bel Après needs me.”
He took her champagne glass from her and set it on the coffee table. “You have good people, my love. Give them room to succeed.”
Which sounded like something Catherine would say, she thought, fighting a flash of annoyance.
“Three months is ridiculous,” she told him.
He untied her robe. When he put his hands on her breasts, she was much less interested in the argument.
“We need to talk about this,” she said, but without much conviction.
“We will,” he promised as his mouth settled on hers.
She really should insist they talk now, she told herself, then decided it could wait. It seemed that lately sex was always the answer, and why would she want to change that?
six
According to Stephanie’s research, the Marington family had been making cheese in eastern Washington for about a hundred years. The milk used to make the cheese came from local cows and nearly half of it was certified organic. They had a good reputation for quality and taste, and from what she could tell, they were looking to expand their brand beyond the local markets and specialty stores. The fourth-generation Maringtons, fraternal twins Jack and Jill—Stephanie had confirmed the unfortunate names—were using social media to make that happen, and they were looking for someone to help with that.
To that end Stephanie had spent the past week studying the company and researching the market. She had three solid campaign ideas and a lot of numbers on cheese consumption, market entry and partnerships. Her plan was to dazzle and get the job offer of her dreams. The fact that the thought of telling her mother she was leaving Bel Après made her slightly sick to her stomach was something she was going to have to ignore. She needed more than she had, and the only way to make that happen was to be proactive. She was hopeful and nervous, but mostly hopeful.
After parking in front of the low, one-story building, she gave herself a twenty-second pep talk, grabbed her handbag and briefcase, and walked inside.
There was no receptionist. Just an open space with a couple of chairs and a hallway leading to several offices. She couldn’t see or hear anyone, which made her wonder if she’d gotten the date or time wrong. She called out, “Hello?”
“Hey, Stephanie?” A tall, slim man walked out of one of the offices. He smiled when he saw her. “Right on time. I’m Jack.”
They shook hands.
Jack had blond hair and blue eyes. His features weren’t unattractive, but there was something very bland about his appearance.
“Good to meet you,” he said. “Come on back and let’s talk.”
She followed him into a cluttered office. Papers were stacked everywhere, including on the only visitor’s chair. She waited while he cleared that, trying not to flinch as she inhaled the smell of what could only be called bad cheese.
“There you go.” He took the seat on the other side of the desk, glanced at his computer screen, frowned, then turned his attention to her.
“You work at Bel Après,” he said. “That’s