Читать книгу No Ordinary Fortune - Judy Duarte, Judy Duarte - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Schuyler hadn’t meant to be deceitful. Nor had she tried to “con a con man.” So it really ought to bother her to have Carlo assume that she was playing him. But in reality, she was a bit turned on by the fact that he wasn’t like other men—and that she couldn’t charm him into submission, like she was often able to do.

As Carlo continued to stare at her as if reading her innermost thoughts, as if he understood her better than anyone else in the world, she realized, for some inexplicable reason, that she actually wanted him to.

“Who are you?” he asked again, his demeanor cool and unaffected.

Admiration and attraction went up another notch. “I told you before. My name is Schuyler Fortunado, but you can also call me Schuyler Fortune.”

He furrowed his brow, clearly confused—and unconvinced.

She’d better explain. “Gerald Robinson’s father is my grandfather—which makes Gerald my uncle. But my father was illegitimate and kept secret from the family.”

“But why’d you show up here, at the Mendoza Distribution Center?”

“Because I want to get to know the Fortunes. Rather than pop in on them unannounced, I decided it would be best to take a slow-and-easy approach in meeting them. And since the Mendozas have strong family ties with them, I thought I’d start with you.”

“I’m not going to be very helpful.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, you have to admit that today turned out to be a win-win for both of us. You needed my help. And I needed to meet someone who knows the Fortunes, even if it’s by six degrees of separation.”

“You also need a job.” Carlo sat back in his seat, no doubt stretching out his legs under the table. “Money, too, I suspect.”

So he didn’t believe what she’d told him about the trust fund and thought she was in it for a payday. That’s where he was wrong.

Schuyler lifted her wineglass and took another sip. “Contrary to what you might think, the Fortunes’ wealth has nothing to do with this. You see, just like my uncle, Jerome Fortune, aka Gerald Robinson, my father is a self-made man.”

“So you say.” The intensity of his gaze nearly bored into the very heart of her, but he was way off.

“Why are you so skeptical of me?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“I suppose it’s only natural.” She blew a little sigh out the side of her mouth. He wasn’t going to be an easy man to win over. And oddly enough, that made him all the more appealing.

“Just to be clear,” he said, “the Fortunes are experts at recognizing impostors and gold diggers.”

“No doubt they are, but I can assure you, some people don’t need a famous name to be successful. If you’re smart and the cards are in your favor, you can make it to the top. And my father is as smart as they come. He’s lucky, too. A real King Midas. He parlayed a winning lottery ticket into real estate, and his investments paid off. He now lives in the most exclusive area of Houston and owns an agency in a downtown high-rise, with branches in Austin and San Antonio.”

“Fortunado Real Estate?”

“That’s us. So, you see, we don’t need the Fortunes’ money.”

Before Carlo could answer, Alfonso stopped by the table with a basket of bread, olive oil and balsamic. Then he took their orders.

When they were alone again, Carlo picked up the conversation where they’d left off. “If your family has plenty of money, why the interest in the Fortunes?”

“Actually, my father and most of my siblings aren’t interested in forging a connection. At least, that’s what they told me.” She reached into the basket, removed a warm slice of bread and tore off one side of the crust. “I suspect they’re curious, but they’re not sure about making any changes to our family dynamics.”

“And you’re not concerned about that?”

Schuyler wouldn’t mind seeing a slight shift in the Fortunado family dynamics. For one thing, she’d like to see artistic expression valued as much as an advanced degree or a head for business.

“I’m more open-minded than the other Fortunados,” she said. “So I decided to check out the Fortunes for myself.”

Carlo studied her once again, as if he still couldn’t buy her story. She lifted her wineglass and took a drink. Dang, it was good. No wonder those chefs had been impressed.

“Believe it or not,” Schuyler said, “I’m as honest as the day is long.”

“Except when you hold back information.”

“Well, that’s true.” She popped the crust into her mouth. Mmm. Homemade and fresh from the oven.

“It seems to me,” Carlo said, “that you’d be better off talking to Ariana Lamonte, who wrote those articles and blogs for Weird Life magazine about the Fortunes.”

“I already did.” Apparently, he didn’t realize she’d done her homework. “Her articles actually convinced me that my suspicion was right and triggered my quest. And by the way, in case you didn’t know, her last name is Fortune now. She married Jayden Fortune from Paseo, Texas.”

“So your visit to the Mendoza Winery Distribution Center was plan B?”

“I hope that doesn’t hurt your feelings.”

At that, he laughed. “I’m just on the periphery of the Fortune family, but I can get you an introduction if you’d like one.”

“That’s great. And I promise that I’ll watch from the outside. I don’t mean them any harm. Think of me as an investigative reporter.”

“And a damn pretty one at that.”

Now, that was an interesting way to toss out a compliment. But then again, with the way he looked and his sexy style, it was easy to see Carlo had plenty of practice—no doubt from a string of sexual conquests over the years.

“Ariana can probably provide you with a better introduction to the Fortune family than I can,” Carlo said.

“You’re right. And once she and her hubby get back home in a few weeks, I plan to talk to her about doing that.”

He scrunched his brow, creating a crease in his forehead, but it didn’t mar his gorgeous face in the least. “Where are they?”

“They’re out of town while she researches a new book about people who embody the Texas spirit.”

Before Carlo could respond, his cell phone rang again. He glanced at the screen. “Believe it or not, I’m not usually a rude dinner companion, but I need to take this call. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll step outside and answer it. But I’ll make it quick.”

She nodded. Like Daddy had taught her since she was old enough to join the family at the dining room table, business always came first.

Once, when Schuyler was in high school, a friend called her while they were having dinner. Her father threatened to take away her cell phone if she answered. Yet two minutes later, he got a call and took it. When he finished talking, she pointed out the inconsistency, which made him angry. He lifted his finger and shook it at her. Here’s the rule in this family, Schuyler. When a phone call earns money, you answer it.

Moments later, Carlo returned to the table. He’d no more than taken a seat when he leaned forward and zeroed in on her like a con man who’d found his mark. “I have a proposition for you. I need your help again, and I’ll do whatever you want if you agree.”

Schuyler raised her eyebrows. “Whatever I want? Just what would this job entail?”

“Now who’s being skeptical?” Carlo laughed. “There isn’t anything unsavory about it. I need someone to represent the Mendoza brand at another special tasting. You just have to do the same thing you did this evening. Pour wine and get people to drink it—and hopefully buy it. I’ll pay you well for your time.”

“I told you before. This isn’t about the money. I don’t have to work a day in my life unless I want to.”

And if truth be told, she wanted to hostess again for Carlo.

“So what do you say?” he asked.

She was always up for an adventure. So she reached across the table to shake his hand and seal the deal. “It’ll be a pleasure doing business with you.”

* * *

In spite of his better judgment, Carlo had been listening to Schuyler half in amusement, half in curiosity. But things got serious the moment he took her hand and felt the unexpected strength of her small grip, the softness of her skin and the heat of her touch. Desire slammed into him, nearly taking him out at the knees.

He tried to play it cool, to hide his sexual attraction, but he’d never met a woman like her before. And he probably never would again.

Granted, he’d been skeptical of her the moment he’d learned the temp agency hadn’t sent her and she’d let him believe that they had. In some ways, he supposed he was still a bit leery, but she seemed sincere.

She was also gorgeous and as intriguing as hell. Besides, she was the best hostess they’d had yet. And she was damn good for business. Bottom line? He was going to take a gamble and believe her story.

“The next tasting is on Thursday evening,” he said. “Are you available to work that night?”

“Three days from now?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a good-size diamond stud. “Sure. I’ll be in town for a while.”

She didn’t say how long she intended to stay, and even though he was growing more and more curious about her plans, he didn’t ask. “Thanks for being flexible,” he said.

“Hey. That’s practically my middle name.” She flashed him a dazzling smile, then leaned forward. “So tell me about this ‘special’ tasting.”

“There’s going to be another convention in town. This one is for a group of software execs. So I called the people in charge and set up a special preconference event. We negotiated a discounted price, and they liked the idea.”

“Is it going to be in the Monarch Hotel gardens?”

“No, this one will be held at the winery. We’re sending a bus to provide them with transportation to and from the hotel. Then, after they have a tasting of our best vintages, we’ll serve them dinner.”

“Sounds like an exciting evening for a group I’d expect to be a little dull and boring in real life.”

Carlo laughed. “Leave it to a party girl to make that assumption.”

She gave a little shrug, followed by a playful wink.

“Actually,” he said, “a lot of thought goes behind my invitation for a special tasting. Those executives all live in various parts of the country, so I figure they’ll order several cases each and share it with their friends when they get home. It’s a good way to get the wine into the hands of consumers outside Texas.”

“I like the way you think.”

“Hey, when you have a good product or business, the best promotion is word of mouth.”

“Looks like you’ve thought of everything.”

“I try to.” He leaned back in his chair and lifted his glass. Yet he found his dinner companion more tempting than his favorite Mendoza wine.

Damn, she was pretty. Carlo prided himself on his strength and character, but God help a weak man who found himself attracted to her.

“Is your tasting room open daily—or just by special request?”

“We’re open in the afternoons, and we have a host who handles the regular tastings for us. He also works at La Viña in the evenings, so I’d prefer to use someone else during our special events.”

“So that’s where I come in.”

“Exactly. And as part of your pay, I’ll do whatever I can to help you be that fly on the wall with the Fortunes.”

“I’d really appreciate that.” Her eyes were an interesting and unusual shade of blue. They also were assessing him just as carefully as he’d studied her moments ago.

“I’m not blowing smoke,” he said. “There’s going to be a Valentine’s Day party at the Mendoza Winery on the fourteenth, and a lot of the Fortunes will be there. You can be the hostess that night and ‘work’ the room.”

Her smile practically lit the entire restaurant, extinguishing the need for the votives on the table. “That would be great, Carlo. You won’t be sorry. I’ll be professional and discreet.”

He hoped she was right, and that his belief in her hadn’t been unfounded. After reaching into the pocket of his sports jacket, he pulled out his business card and handed it to her. “In the meantime, why don’t you stop by the winery tomorrow morning. I’ll give you a personal tour.”

“I’d like that.”

Interestingly enough, Carlo would, too.

* * *

Bright and early the next day, while Schuyler was sound asleep in her suite at the Monarch Hotel, the alarm went off.

Normally, she hated wake-up calls or sticking to a schedule. But not this morning. Without a grumble or even a yawn, she threw off the covers, rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

She stopped long enough to glance in the mirror, expecting to see her hair a sleep-tousled mess, but it didn’t look all that bad. That in itself was a surprise, but even more so was the smile that stretched across her face. She’d always had a natural effervescence, but it didn’t usually begin to surface until after her first cup of coffee. But then again, today was different. Her wish was about to come true. In less than two weeks, she was going to be face-to-face with some of the Fortunes.

How cool was that?

Yet there was something else giving her reason to celebrate. She was going to see Carlo again.

Dinner last night had not only been delicious and filling, it had been...well, interesting—to say the least. It had also bordered on romantic.

As a rule, she steered clear of men who might want a serious relationship with her. She didn’t need any more people trying to pressure her into conforming to their expectations. But she suspected that Carlo was different.

For that reason, before turning in last night, she’d set the alarm on her smartphone to give her plenty of time to get ready.

An hour later she was driving out to the winery and following the directions Carlo had given her. After turning into the driveway, she couldn’t help easing her foot from the accelerator and slowing down to take in the acres of grapevines growing in the Hill Country.

Another storm had passed through during the night, drenching the area in rain. But after watering the plants and flora, as well as cleansing the air and leaves, it had passed through and the sky was now clear and blue.

It was certainly pretty here in the country. Schuyler had always been a city girl, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy breathing in fresh air and watching the sun set over rolling hills and greenery. Not that she’d be invited to stay at the winery that long, although she’d be up for extending her visit.

She’d no more than parked and shut off the ignition when Carlo came out to meet her. If she’d thought he looked handsome last night, he was even more striking today in khaki slacks and a white cotton shirt—button-down, crisply pressed. Definitely not a Texas cowboy. More like a tall, dark Miami Beach hottie.

“Welcome to the Mendoza Winery,” he said.

She left her purse, a big black Chanel she’d filled to the brim with various items she might need at any given moment, and locked the doors. Then she placed the keys in the front pocket of her jeans and greeted him with a handshake. The formality wasn’t necessary, but she wanted to touch him again, and a hug didn’t seem appropriate. Maybe she’d offer him one when she left.

“What do you think of the place so far?” he asked.

“It’s impressive. You’d never know that your cousin bought it recently. It’s been so well cared for that you’d think your family has owned it for years.”

“It was in the Daily family for generations, and Alejandro purchased it from them.”

“Either way, the grounds are beautiful.”

“Thanks. It’s been a team effort. Actually, it still is. We’re going to expand more so we can offer it as a venue for parties and weddings. Come on. I’ll give you that tour, starting with the sculpture garden around the back.”

Schuyler fell into step beside Carlo. In addition to taking in the lovely grounds, she couldn’t help breathing in his alluring, ocean-fresh scent and losing focus. As they turned the corner and she spotted the sculpture garden, she realized why he thought the setting would be perfect for weddings or special events.

“This is amazing.” She scanned the rose garden, and the manicured lawn that had been adorned with several large sculptures.

“We’re going to plant more flowers,” he said. “And we’ve ordered a Spanish-tiled fountain, which a local artisan is going to create. The stone sculptures were already here—and permanent. But we’re going to bring in other outdoor art pieces and rotate them.”

“That ought to be a nice touch.” She stopped to admire the statue of a cavalry officer mounted on a horse. “This is pretty cool.”

“I think so, too.”

She circled to the front of the horse and placed her hand on its nose, stroking it as if the animal was real. Then she looked at Carlo and grinned.

“Come on. I’ll show you the tasting room next.” He placed his hand on the small of her back. Her spine tingled at his touch, an electrifying flash that shot through her like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. Her legs wobbled, and she nearly stumbled before making a quick recovery.

If Carlo noticed, he didn’t comment. Instead, they crossed the garden, returned to the back of the main building and entered. Just down the hall, a sign on a large, rough-hewn wooden door announced the tasting room hours. He gripped the brass handle and opened it for her, then he followed her inside.

She scanned the open reception area, which boasted high, vaulted ceilings and dark beams, as he led her to a marble-topped bar. Shelves of corked wine bottles awaited the next batch of wine enthusiasts who would come to taste the best vintages the winery had to offer.

“Has your family always been in the wine business?” she asked.

“No. When Alejandro was in college, he got a part-time job working at a South Beach wine bar to put himself through school. And that’s where it all started. He changed his major to agricultural operations and went on to get a master’s degree in viticulture and enology. He also spent a summer in France interning at a vineyard and another summer in one located in Napa Valley.”

“I can see where his interest took off from there. I told you about my friend Calista, whose family owned that villa in Italy. It wasn’t quite the same for me, but her enthusiasm was almost contagious, and I learned a lot during my visits. For a while, I thought about moving there, but my dad had a fit and threatened to cut me off for good.” She turned and studied Carlo. “But what about you? What made you leave Miami to work at a winery?”

“I come from a long line of restaurant and nightclub owners, so I’ve got a solid handle on the food industry, as well as wine. One of my jobs with Mendoza Winery is to run La Viña.”

“Are you the manager?” she asked.

“I suppose you could say that. Alejandro let me have free rein in remodeling the restaurant and hiring a chef and waitstaff.”

“I’d love to see what you’ve done.”

“We’ll end the tour there, then have lunch. In the meantime, I’ll show you the vineyard and the cellar, where we make the wine.”

Carlo led her outside and to a barn, where a red electric car awaited them.

“Oh my gosh,” Schuyler said. “How cute is this? It looks like a cross between a golf cart and a limousine.”