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He wished, wondering briefly if her skin was as soft as it looked. “No, I have business, too.” He tossed back the rest of his whiskey when he thought of how his brother had tried to hide this meeting from him. Destin couldn’t wait to see the look on Elliot’s face. “I’m meeting with a lawyer.”
“Uh-oh, are you in trouble?”
He smiled. “Nothing like that. I don’t like lawyers.”
She turned her body toward him, which pleased him. “Really? Why?”
“I’ve found them to be unfeeling, soulless and greedy. Every last one of them.” Her eyes flashed, and he mentally patted himself on the back for holding her attention.
“I know a lot of nice lawyers who would take offense to that.”
“Well, I’m sorry for your friends, but I have yet to meet a lawyer who isn’t out to get rich while destroying someone else’s life.”
Her gaze lowered, and she turned her body back toward the bar. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Unfortunately true.” He signaled for another whiskey. “What is it you said you do?”
“Umm... I’m a...yoga instructor.”
That made sense. She looked fit.
“Did you just look at my legs?”
Merde. He had. And not just a quick peek; he’d stared a little. “For business purposes only. If I were going to do yoga, I would hire you. You look flexible.”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes widened, but she laughed a little, which he liked the sound of.
Mon Dieu, he really was out of practice with women. Where was his whiskey? “I meant, if I were a woman looking for an instructor.” He paused. “I think Thereza does yoga,” he added quickly, gesturing toward the empty seat. He had no idea if the young blonde did yoga.
“Is your girlfriend okay? She’s been in the restroom a while.”
“She’s probably on the phone. And she’s not my girlfriend,” he murmured distractedly. The woman turned her head to him slowly and tipped her face toward his. There were sparks in her dark eyes again—exquisite.
“Really? Does she know that?” Her icy tone was palpable.
Destin never rose to the touchiness in a woman’s voice. In a former life, he had kissed hands, opened doors and led women by the smalls of their backs. His mother had raised him and his brother to be gentlemen. He’d been married to a sweet, stunning lady.
The pain of the memory pulled him back into the present. He was no longer that young man.
And this woman and her commanding tone were stirring something dark in him. Leaning in, he swiveled his amused gaze to her annoyed one. “She knows.”
As if on cue, Thereza slid in between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her giggles mingled with his audible sigh as he peeled her off him and wrestled her onto her stool, enticing her with the fries.
He peered over Thereza’s head at his beautiful new acquaintance, who was now acting like she didn’t know him. She sipped her wine, ignoring them, yet he caught the tiniest clench in her jaw. He berated himself for not finding out her name.
Destin saw her head turn toward the entrance and pause. She clutched her small bag and popped off the stool. He watched as she walked toward the crowd of people at the door, curious to see whom she was meeting. Then his thoughts shifted when he spotted Elliot. Finally!
Destin stood and signaled to his brother. The surprise on Elliot’s slim face was priceless but short-lived as his attention was diverted by...the yoga instructor?
Chapter 3 (#uc45316d4-c185-533d-a9f8-11b16cad4029)
Elliot Dechamps strolled into the restaurant, handed his coat to a server and assaulted both of Nicole’s cheeks with kisses. His blond hair was slightly longer than in his picture, but he was just as handsome and stylish in a black button-down open at the neck and slim-cut trousers.
“Enchanté, Ms. Parks. I hope Anton has taken excellent care of you.” He didn’t apologize for being late. Instead, his head swiveled toward the bar, and he frowned and nodded at someone. Then he called Anton over and requested that he change their table.
Elliot turned to her. “It looks my brother, Destin, is unexpectedly joining us. And he seems to have brought a friend. I assure you, this is not how we usually do business. My brother can be—” He searched for a word. “Impetuous.” With a tight smile, Elliot waved toward the bar.
Nicole’s mind ran over the details of the dossier that she had read about the Dechamps brothers. Just a few years out of Oxford, they’d successfully opened a branch of their family’s winery. At the time, winemaking in Brazil was still experimental, but they quickly rose to mainstream success. Destin was the eldest and the driving force behind the creation of the wines and the agricultural operation. Elliot was the business mind, and took on the finances and sales.
A fire had taken the winery almost four years ago, along with Destin’s wife.
So sad, she thought, as she turned toward the bar and—
No.
Oh, no...
Whiskey in hand, drunk girlfriend struggling to keep up, her lawyer-hating barfly was patting Elliot on the back. Elliot turned to her.
“Miss Parks, my brother, Destin. Destin, Miss Nicole Parks, the attorney from Kingsley’s.”
Destin slid a glance at his brother, and Nicole was sure he was going to say something smart. Instead, he stretched out his hand, his expression unreadable. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Parks.”
“Lovely to meet you, as well, Monsieur Dechamps.” She slipped her palm into the warmth of his hand. Her pulse jumped. She chalked it up to being flustered.
They released each other, and Destin stepped to the side. “And this is Thereza.”
Nicole introduced herself to the blonde, who didn’t seem to recognize her from the bar at all.
“I thought you were going to Paris tonight,” Elliot hissed, pulling Destin off to the side. Nicole eavesdropped as she pretended to look out the bay window, but she could see the brothers from the corner of her eye.
Destin shrugged. “I had another engagement.”
Elliot eyed Destin’s companion then pursed his lips at Destin. “Mon Dieu, Destin, is it really that hard for you to face our father?”
Destin seethed. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Good. You need to talk this out.”
Destin ignored him.
Evidently satisfied that everyone had met, Elliot took Thereza by the hand and led her toward the table. Destin frowned, his blue gaze boring into Nicole’s. Then he offered her his arm for the short walk.
“You’re the attorney?” he murmured. “No yoga?”
She placed her hand inside his biceps. It felt like steel. “I do yoga. I find that it helps me to keep my soul.”
He raised a brow at her. “Touché.” He led her through the tables. “I supposed my statement was harsh. It just never occurred to me that you were an attorney.”
“Well, we come in all shapes and sizes.”
“And genders.”
“Don’t tell me you have a problem with me being a woman.”
“Of course not. It’s just that you came with such high recommendations that I was expecting a man.”
Ooooh, another zinger. It was difficult, but she held her temper. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. But I think you’ll find that I can be as unfeeling and greedy as any man, especially when it serves my clients.”
Destin’s lips twitched. “Oh, I’m not disappointed.”
At the table, Elliott moved Thereza’s chair back and helped her get seated. Which left Destin to assist Nicole. He smoothly slid her chair forward when she sat, and Nicole glanced at him over her shoulder. No mockery or amusement seemed present in his face.
“Merci,” she murmured.
“À tout moment.” Anytime.
Elliot requested a bottle of wine, and sent for a flurry of hors d’oeuvres. Their drinks were on the table in seconds, and the small plates of bite-sized appetizers followed promptly.
Surprise must have registered across her face because Elliot leaned over to her with a grin and said, “They know us here. Saúde.” They all clinked glasses, looking into each other’s eyes—no one wanted seven years of bad sex, even if it was an urban legend.
Destin’s look was intense when he touched his glass to hers. She took a deep breath, thinking there was probably no such thing as bad sex with him.
Where had that thought come from?
Nicole wrenched her gaze from his. She gave her wine a swirl then inhaled before tasting.
“Wow,” Nicole said after her first sip. “That’s exceptional.”
“It is,” Elliott said, his attention shifting to his brother. Destin lowered his whiskey and his eyes.
“A Cab Franc. It’s yours, isn’t it? A Dechamps?” she asked Elliot.
“It’s our father’s, yes,” Destin answered.
Nicole caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. Regret, maybe? But after another sip of his drink, whatever sadness she’d seen disappeared.
“Hmm. Chili pepper, strawberry, tobacco, licorice.” She tapped her tongue on the top of her mouth and sucked in a slow breath. “Leather?” Elliot’s eyes widened. “Basil and dark oak from extremely aged barrels. Very earthy.”
“Is she right?” Elliot asked his brother excitedly.
Destin was half grinning and studying her as if he’d seen an alien. He glanced at Elliot and slowly nodded.
“How did you do that?” Destin asked Nicole.
“I have a really sensitive palate.”
“A supertaster?” Destin asked, astonishment in his tone.
“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded shyly.
“Very interesting,” Elliot chimed in.
“Not really. It’s a nice party trick, but mostly it makes me a picky eater. Things smell so good and don’t always carry through on the taste. It annoys my friends.” The brothers laughed, which was the intention, but her mutant taste buds had caused more harm than good when she was a child, especially when her father took over the cooking after her mother passed. If it hadn’t been for Cheerios, she wasn’t sure she would have survived middle school.
“And your boyfriend? What does he think?” asked Destin.
Was he mocking her again? If he hadn’t noticed, his girlfriend had been texting ever since the drinks arrived. Nicole might be single, but at least she had standards.
“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment. So I have all the time in the world to dedicate to the both of you.”
“Cheers to that,” Destin said. He drained his whiskey and poured himself a glass of the Cab Franc.
Elliot narrowed his eyes and cocked his head at his brother, then turned to her. “I must say, I had no idea you’d be so beautiful in person.”
Warning bells chimed in Nicole’s head at the offhand comment. Even Destin frowned. Ever the professional, Nicole gave him a practiced smile, still unsure if he was flirting or just being very French.
“Merci. For the compliment and the opportunity to let me facilitate your sale. I understand the land has been untouched for quite some time. Are you certain it can’t be salvaged?” she asked softly. Elliot froze, and he gazed across the table. She turned to Destin, who was fingering the stem of his glass, and spoke carefully. “I hope you don’t think I’m being insensitive to your family tragedy. I’m so sorry for your loss and want you to know that our company has many resources that could help you rebuild. I would be remiss if I didn’t present all of the options.”
Destin seemed far away for a moment. Then he held his glass up to the lit candle in the middle of their table and studied the dark burgundy liquid. His gaze flicked to her over the rim.
“Wine making is an art, and in France it’s about timing. The seasons determine when the grapes ripen and when to harvest. But in Brazil, there are three hundred days of sunshine. The vines never stop producing, and harvesting can happen at any time. That’s why Elliot and I came here to make our mark.” More food arrived and Destin paused, pushing a few of the plates toward Nicole. “Please, eat. Let’s see what your palate can handle.” His smile was genuine, and she couldn’t help but grin back. She started in on the spiced churrasco and the smoked octopus.
Destin watched her take a bite, then raised one brow in a silent question. How is it? She licked her lips and grinned in answer. Her smile slowly fell when he turned to Thereza, who began to eat one of the pork ribs with her fingers. Nicole almost felt bad for her. Her minimal English meant she couldn’t follow the conversation. In between texts, the blonde had flipped her hair and flashed her eyes, anything to get Destin to look her way.
He’d been polite, offering her wine and food, making sure she was comfortable, but Nicole could tell this was a one-sided love match. Destin wasn’t into Thereza, which provided Nicole with some inexplicable inner satisfaction.
She had to ask herself why she cared.
“Brazil is an exciting country,” Elliot said, interrupting her thoughts. “But it can be a savage and lawless place. Young boys can get into a lot of trouble here.” Elliot smirked, as if he indulged in trouble frequently. “Our winery was successful for a time, maybe too successful. Someone broke in and knocked a lit oil lamp over. The fire took everything.”
“That’s awful,” she said cautiously, her gaze going back and forth between the men.
Destin didn’t look up; instead, he ran his hand back and forth over the white tablecloth. “The irrigation pipes were ruined, and the soil is no longer suitable. And, of course, our production facilities were destroyed. Rebuilding would be a waste of time and money,” he said, trailing off into a whisper.
Nicole swallowed back her own memories of losing close family members. Her mother had been the first to go, her degenerative heart condition taking her when Nicole was only ten. Then her father’s constant drinking and liver cirrhosis took him not long after. By the time Nicole was twelve, the only relative she had left was her grandmother.
Nicole recognized that this man was still in pain. She pushed the octopus plate his way, but he shook his head and smiled at her in gratitude.
He had a nice mouth, she thought. And his eyes seemed to glitter.
“Well, I’ve brought inquiries from several prospective buyers with me that we can discuss. They seem to agree that there is a lot of opportunity in Brazil. There is an oil tycoon who...”
Destin rose suddenly. “I think I should take Thereza home. Please, continue without us.”
Elliot rose. “You’re sure you can’t stay?” His gaze flicked to Nicole, then back to his brother.
“No. Unfortunately,” Destin murmured.
