Читать книгу A Taste of the Untamed - Susan Stephens, Susan Stephens - Страница 7

‘NACHO Acosta is back in circulation!’

Screwing up her eyes as she stared at the screen. Grace blinked and tried to clear her vision. The virus she had contracted must be affecting her eyesight, she concluded, reading on: ‘Romily Winner, our Up-Town sleuth, reports on the trail of who’s hot and who’s not.’

Oh, damn …

Now there were white spots dancing in front of her eyes and the monitor screen was flashing. Pushing her chair back, Grace stood to stretch her aching limbs and inhale a lungful of stale basement air. She squeezed her eyes shut again and then blinked several times.

Better.

Relieved to find the problem had cleared, she checked the PC connections.

All good.

Tiredness, Grace concluded. It was almost one a.m. Working as a cocktail waitress in the half-light of a nightclub in Cornwall and then sitting in the club’s office working on accounts for half the night was hardly going to make for happy eyes.

Tired or not, Grace made one last trawl over the countless images of aggressively handsome men featured on the society pages of ROCK! magazine, finding it hard to believe that she had met the infamous Nacho Acosta in the hard, tanned flesh. They could hardly be said to inhabit the same world, but fate played funny tricks sometimes.

Finally managing to drag her gaze away from the photographs of Nacho, she got on with devouring every word the journalist had written about him …

With the wild Acostas all grown up and fully fledged, this reporter doubts that Nacho—at thirty-two the oldest of the notorious polo-playing Acosta brothers—will be in much hurry to quit the London scene, where he seems to be finding plenty to keep him entertained!

Grace felt a pulse of arousal even as her stomach clenched with jealousy at the thought of all the other women entertaining Nacho, as the reporter so suggestively put it. Which was ridiculous, bearing in mind she’d only met him twice, and on each occasion had felt so clumsy and awkward in comparison to Nacho’s effortless style she hardly had any right to feel so much as a twinge of envy.

But she did.

The first time they had met had been at a polo match on the beach in Cornwall, which Grace’s best friend and Nacho’s sister, Lucia, had arranged. Nacho had done little more on that occasion than lean out of the window of his monster Jeep to give Grace a quick once-over, but no man had ever looked at her that way before, and she could still remember the effect on her body of so much heat. She’d spent the rest of the day watching Nacho playing polo from the sidelines like some lovesick teenager.

They had met for a second time at Lucia’s wedding, held at the Acosta family’s main estancia in Argentina. This trip had been the greatest thrill of Grace’s life—until she’d seen Nacho in the giant marquee and his keen black stare had found her. He’d been tied up for most of the evening, hosting the event, but she had felt the effect of his powerful charisma wherever she went, so that by the time he’d found a chance to speak to her she had only been able to stare at him like a fool, wide-eyed and stumped for words.

Growing up with parents who had extolled her virtues to anyone who would listen had left Grace with crippling shyness, for the simple reason that she knew she could never be as beautiful or as gifted as they made her out to be. A lot of that shyness had been knocked out of her at the club, where the patrons appreciated her efficiency, but it had all come flooding back that night at the wedding in front of Nacho, transforming what could have been a flirty, fun encounter into a tongue-tied mess.

Shifting her mind from that embarrassing occasion, Grace studied another shot of the man who’d once rocked her world. There was yet another beautiful woman at his side, and Grace had to admit they made a striking couple. And the girl’s expression seemed to warn every other woman off.

‘You can have him,’ Grace muttered, dragging her gaze away. Nacho Acosta might be gorgeous, but that night at the wedding had proved he was well out of her league.

The sound of the nightclub pianist running through his repertoire provided a welcome distraction for Grace, who had always found company in music and books. Her parents had once had high hopes that Grace would become a concert pianist, but those dreams had ended when her father had died and there had been no more money to pay her fees at the conservatoire. Grace hadn’t realised how cossetted she had been until that moment, or what loss really meant. Losing her place at college had been devastating, but losing her father had been far, far worse.

Leaving music college had forced Grace to find a job, and she had been grateful to find a position in a nightclub where one of the top jazz musicians of the day performed. Being close to music at that level had been a small comfort to Grace, who had still been suffering greatly from the death of her father.

Turning back to the computer screen again, Grace studied the picture at the end of the article showing Lucia and her brothers. Lucia was smiling, while each of her brothers either appeared dangerous, brooding or stern. Nacho was at the dangerous end of the spectrum.

It must have been hard for Lucia, Grace reflected. The only girl in a family of four men, how had Lucia ever made herself heard, or seen, or taken account of at all? Lucia had once mentioned that being alone in the Acosta family had never been an option. It was little wonder that she had made a bid for freedom, Grace mused, leaving the family home to work in the club where the two girls had met. Nacho had raised his siblings when their parents had been killed in a flood, and though Lucia was always upbeat by nature she referred to that time as like being under the heel of the tyrant.

Grace shivered involuntarily as she studied Nacho’s face. Everyone knew Nacho Acosta to be a forceful man, who got everything he wanted.

‘Piano-time, Grace?’

She turned at the sound of Clark Mayhew’s voice as he poked his head around the door. Clark was the club pianist she so loved to hear.

‘Come on, Grace,’ Clark prompted. ‘Shut that computer down and get out here. You’ve got a real talent.’

‘Not like you,’ she said, smiling.

Clark shrugged. ‘The only difference between you and me is that I have more confidence.’

‘I wish!’ Grace exclaimed, laughing as she walked across the club, sat down and adjusted the piano stool. ‘I can’t even play without music like you. I only wish I could.’

‘But you can,’ Clark insisted. ‘Close your eyes and let the melody flow through your fingers …’

A bolt of panic hit her as Grace realised she had no option but to close her eyes. The moment she tried to focus her eyes on the music notes and lines began to wheel and collide on the page.

‘Close your eyes, Grace,’ Clark encouraged, oblivious to what was happening. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ he said when she managed a few bars.

She would definitely have to cut down her screentime, Grace realised when she opened her eyes again. The flashing lights plaguing her vision hadn’t gone away. If anything, they were getting worse.

Two years later

The girl had been eyeing him up since he’d entered the ballroom. It was a magnificent room, currently set out for a formal dinner with small tables laid for eight. An armada of glass and silverware glittered beneath huge Venetian chandeliers, which proved the perfect spotlight for the girl trying to attract his attention. Her figure alone was enough to scramble any man’s head, and the heated invitation in her eyes promised only one conclusion—if he were interested.

He’d pass. He was restless tonight, and bored by the round of engagements his PA had set up for him in London.

Tonight was a so-called power dinner, for movers and shakers in the wine industry. Nacho was better known for playing polo at an international level and running an estancia in Argentina the size of a small country, but his decision to restore the family vineyards was something he had been forced to do in order to protect his siblings’ inheritance. Nothing else would have persuaded him to return to that particular family home in Argentina …

‘Nacho.’

He turned to see the dapper figure of Don Fernando Gonzales, the chairman of the event, approaching. ‘Don Fernando.’ He inclined his head politely, noting the sultry beauty was now standing at the chairman’s side.

‘Nacho Acosta—I would like to present my daughter, Annalisa Gonzales …’

As Don Fernando stepped back an all too familiar sensation came over him as he briefly clasped the woman’s carefully manicured hand. He’d heard Don Fernando was in financial trouble, and the portly chairman wouldn’t be the first father to parade his pretty daughter in front of Nacho. Everyone knew Nacho held the reins to the family fortune, though they seemed unaware that Nacho was wise to schemes born out of desperation, or that he could do more damage to those he cared about than those misguided parents could possibly imagine.

It was almost a relief when he was distracted by the glimpse of a shining blonde head. He stared across the room, trying to work out if he had met the blonde before. His sixth sense said yes, but with only the back of her head to go on it was hard to be sure …

‘Am I keeping you, Señor Acosta?’ Annalisa Gonzales asked him with a knowing look.

Her father had peeled away, Nacho noticed, giving them the chance to get to know each other better. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, forcing himself to concentrate on what was undeniably a beautifully designed face.

‘Are you really as bad as they say you are?’ Annalisa asked, as if she hoped it were true.

‘Worse,’ he assured her.

They were both distracted by the sound of a dog barking, and Annalisa laughed as she turned to look for the culprit. ‘If I had known dogs were permitted at this dinner I would have brought Monkey, my Chihuahua—’

‘Who would have provided a tasty snack for Cormac, my Irish Wolfhound,’ he countered. ‘If you will excuse me, Señorita Gonzales, I believe the MC is about to call us to our tables …’

Grace sat down, relieved to have the woman sitting next to her introduce herself right away. Elias, Grace’s elderly employer and mentor, was sitting on Grace’s other side, but he had been immediately swept into greeting old friends and colleagues, and Grace was keen to prove that she could do this by herself. This annual event in celebration of the wine industry was Grace’s first major outing since becoming blind. It was also the first big outing for her guide dog, Buddy, and Grace was as nervous for Buddy as she was for herself. She hoped they would both get through the evening without making too many blunders.

While Grace was chatting easily to the lady at her side she took the chance to discreetly map the tablecloth and all the various hazards confronting her. A battalion of glasses was waiting to be knocked over—and then there was the cutlery she had to get right. And the napkin she had to unfold without knocking anything over. There were a lot of different-sized plates, along with groups of condiments and sugar bowls. The potential for sugar in her soup and salt in her coffee loomed large.

‘Here’s the pepper, if you want it,’ the lady next to her remarked, flagging up the arrival of the soup. ‘I like pepper on everything,’ she added, ‘though you may want to taste first. It might need salt—’

Grace felt a rush of emotion as the woman placed a second container close to her hand, where Grace could feel it. Small kindnesses counted for a lot now she was blind. They meant she could leave the house and do things like this. Elias was right. All she had to do was buckle on her courage each morning along with Buddy’s harness. It was harder doing that sometimes than talking about it, but it helped to know there were some really nice people in the world—and thank goodness for them.

‘You work for one of the great men in our industry,’ the older woman commented, obviously impressed when Grace explained that Elias had trained her to be a sommelier.

‘I guess Elias is the closest thing I’ve got to a father figure,’ Grace admitted. It wasn’t enough to describe Elias as her employer when he’d done so much for her.

‘You lost your father?’ the elderly lady prompted gently.

‘Yes,’ Grace murmured, growing sombre as she thought back.

‘I lost my father when I was very young. You’re lucky to have Elias on your side. He’s a kind man and a good man, and there aren’t many of those around—though I’m sure you’ll meet a good man of your own one day and get married.’

‘Oh, no!’ Grace exclaimed. ‘I could never do that.’

‘Why ever not?’ Grace’s companion demanded as Buddy barked at the change in Grace’s voice.

‘I wouldn’t want to be a burden,’ Grace explained.

‘A burden?’ her new friend exclaimed. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

Grace would run a mile rather than be a burden to anyone. She’d felt the same way when her mother had found happiness again after her father’s death and had wanted to marry a man with children of his own. Grace hadn’t wanted to get in the way of her mother’s happiness, and had taken the marriage as her cue to leave home for good. Then, when her sight had deteriorated, she had become doubly determined not to be a trouble to anyone.

But she wasn’t about to spoil this evening with dark thoughts. ‘I’ve still got a lot to learn and a lot to get used to,’ Grace said lightly, ‘so I think perhaps I’d better get myself sorted out before I go looking for love,’ She laughed, realizing what she’d said. ‘Perhaps it would be better if I let love come looking for me.’ She stilled, feeling a warm, papery hand covering hers.

‘You’re a brave girl, Grace. You deserve the best,’ Grace’s new friend insisted. ‘And don’t you dare settle for anything less.’

Nacho was growing increasingly impatient—although as Annalisa shrugged her slender shoulders and walked away he was forced to ask himself when the chance to accept a free gift in such attractive packaging had become so meaningless.

The past had made him hard and cynical, Nacho concluded. Most of the women he encountered seemed so obvious and shallow, and they all wanted the same thing: someone—anyone—to take care of them, financially and emotionally. And, having spent his teens and twenties caring for his siblings, he found his emotional bank was drained.

His married brothers often talked of how lucky they were to have found a soul mate. He always laughed and asked what chance they thought he stood. If they answered him he never listened. He didn’t believe in fate or luck. Hard work brought results, and he didn’t have time to waste searching for a woman. The only woman who could possibly stir his interest now would have to be strong and independent.

He cast one last look around the room, searching for the blonde again, but she seemed to have gone. He could be doing better things with his time, and as soon as politeness allowed he made his excuses and left.

On the drive back to the family penthouse in London he couldn’t shake the feeling that something of significance had happened at the dinner, though what that might have been eluded him.

Working in a vast wine warehouse was easy for Grace now she had Buddy to guide her. The big Golden Retriever could happily steer Grace across London, and navigating the now familiar maze of passages at the warehouse was a breeze for him, so Grace was curious when he started to growl.

‘What’s the matter, boy?’ she said, bending low to give him a pat. The strange thing was she could feel something too. It was the same sense of foreboding she got when there was thunder in the air.

Since her sight had failed Grace had come to rely on her other senses, and they had quickly become more developed. But apart from the thundering of her heart she could hear nothing now. ‘We’ve only got one more section to check,’ she reassured her guide dog. ‘Take me to Argentina, Buddy …’

Hearing one of his command words, Buddy led Grace unerringly to the section in the warehouse where wines from Argentina were stored. If Grace had said Spain, or France, or New World, the highly trained guide dog would have known exactly where to take her. To make doubly sure there could never be a mistake each section was labelled in Braille as well as in script.

Grace had had to learn a lot of new things since losing her sight to a rare virus. At first numbness and denial at the bleakness of her prognosis had swept over her, keeping her chained to the bed, to the house, but then anger and frustration had taken over, and they had demanded action. She’d decided that didn’t want to spend the rest of her life blundering around and falling over things, and had finally determined she would learn to trust the hated stick.

‘The Stick’ had sat in a corner of Grace’s bedroom since her return from hospital, where a therapist had assured her in no uncertain terms that if she didn’t use it to get out of the house she would spend her life in darkness.

‘But I am in darkness!’ Grace had yelled in angry desperation.

There had been a lot of screaming and yelling as well as quiet sobbing through those dark, difficult times. It had changed nothing. Having Elias in the background, nagging her constantly to get on with her life, had worked, and finally picking up ‘The Stick’ had changed her life. It had been her first step towards independence.

But just when she had gathered enough courage to walk down the road she’d realized everything above waist-height slapped her in the face. On one outing she had crept home, feeling her way an inch at a time … like a blind woman. And another week had been wasted grieving for what couldn’t be changed. It was only when Lucia had turned up with a representative from the Guide Dogs’ Association that Grace had been persuaded to try something new.

At first she had protested that she couldn’t look after herself, never mind a dog, but to her shock Lucia had snapped angrily, ‘For goodness’ sake, pull yourself together, Grace. Buddy needs feeding—and he needs regular walks. This isn’t all about you, Grace.’

Grace had slowly realized that she had been behaving incredibly selfishly and had immersed herself in a lonely world of her own making. She had given Lucia every cause to be worried about her progressively withdrawn friend.

When Buddy had arrived everything had changed. From the moment the big dog snuggled up to Grace it was a done deal. Buddy alerted her to every hazard, and by doing so opened up Grace’s world. Lucia, as usual, had gone overboard, enthusing and saying that as Buddy was already chipped and inoculated, and had his very own doggy passport, there was no excuse for Grace not to go travelling.

As if! Grace had thought at the time. Though now, thanks to Buddy, her confidence was building daily.

‘What is your problem?’ Grace demanded fondly as Buddy continued to growl. She relaxed when she heard the voice of her mentor, Elias Silver. Elias had used to supply the club with wine, which was how they’d met, and he’d offered her a job when no one else would, encouraging Grace to retrain as sommelier. ‘Elias must be meeting someone,’ she commented, stroking Buddy’s silky ears. ‘You’ll have to get used to people you don’t know now we’re both working full-time.’

Grace had barely returned to her office when Elias came in, full of suppressed excitement.

‘The new wines I’ve just been tasting are exceptional.’

‘And?’ Grace prompted, sensing there was more to come.

She grew increasingly uneasy as the silence lengthened.

‘I’ve known about this vineyard for years,’ Elias started telling her, in a tone that suggested he was choosing his words carefully. ‘I was planning for us to go to Argentina together, Grace—’

She did a mental double-take. This was the first she’d heard of it.

Argentina—so far away. And impossible for her to visit now she was blind.

Argentina—the home of the Acostas and Nacho—

‘Don’t look so shocked,’ Elias insisted. ‘You know I’ve been slowing down recently …’

Grace’s thoughts whirled. Elias being less than fit was a terrifying prospect. He was a dear friend.

‘You’ll have to go to Argentina without me,’ he said.

‘Sorry?’ she breathed in a shocked voice.

‘If there was any alternative, believe me, I would suggest it, Grace, but my doctor has insisted I must rest.’

‘Then you must rest, and I’ll look after you,’ Grace insisted.

‘The business can’t afford for both of us to be away at the same time, and I’m not going to risk losing out on top-quality wine to a competitor. You have to go, Grace. Who else can I ask? Who else can I trust?’

‘But what if I let you down?’

‘You won’t,’ Elias assured her. ‘I believe in you, Grace. I always have. You must go to Argentina to check this vineyard and its wine production for me.’

She was filled with concern for Elias and fear at the thought of failing him. ‘I want to help, but—’

‘Don’t say But I’m blind,’ Elias warned her. ‘Don’t ever say that, Grace, or everything you have achieved since losing your sight will be lost.’

‘And you’ve been there for me from the start.’

‘Yes, I have,’ he said pointedly.

When he had first heard about her illness Elias had sought her out with an unconditional offer of help, saying it was his way of repaying Grace for all her small kindnesses over the years.

‘You know how short we are on Argentinian wine,’ he said. ‘Would you have me turn customers away?’

‘No, of course not. But do I really need to go to Argentina? Can’t we find someone else to go?’

‘No,’ Elias said flatly. ‘Apart from the little matter of trust, I think you need to go to Argentina to prove you can do it, Grace. It’s the next step for you. And if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. I’m trying to make a businesswoman out of you, as well as a connoisseur of wine, and you must always satisfy yourself that things are what they seem to be before you place an order. It won’t be so bad,’ he encouraged. ‘You’ll only be there a month or so—’

‘A month!’ Grace exclaimed, horrorstruck. Just when she’d been about ready to say maybe, Elias had moved the goalposts.

‘And you must leave right away, to catch the harvest at its best,’ he continued. ‘I’ll need a full report from you, Grace.’

One of the things she loved about Elias was that he never made any allowances for her being blind. But this was too much. This wasn’t the ‘next step’—it was a huge leap across an unknowable chasm.

‘But you know I can’t travel—’

‘I know nothing of the sort,’ Elias argued. ‘You can get about London, can’t you?’

‘Only because I have Buddy to help me—’

‘Exactly,’ Elias interrupted. ‘Grace, I can’t trust anyone else to do this. Are you saying I wasted my money training you?’

‘Of course not. I can’t imagine what I’d be doing now if you hadn’t helped me. You know how grateful I am.’

‘I don’t want your gratitude. I want you out there doing the job you’ve been trained to do.’

‘But I haven’t left the country since—’

‘Since your sight was reduced to looking at the world as if through the wrong end of a telescope? Yes, I know that. But I thought you liked a challenge, Grace?’

‘I do,’ Grace insisted, remembering the staff at the rehabilitation centre telling her she must keep pushing the boundaries—but not as far as Argentina, surely?

‘I can’t travel,’ Elias said flatly, ‘and taking on a new supplier is a huge risk for the business. We have to be sure these wines are as good as they promise to be.’

‘Surely sending me in your place is an even bigger risk?’

‘Grace, my father taught me, his father taught him, and now I’ve trained you, with many patient tasting sessions—’

‘Patient?’ Grace interrupted, starting to smile.

‘I love to hear you happy, Grace. Don’t let life frighten you. Please promise me that.’

‘But do I know enough?’ she said, still fretting.

‘I know sommeliers who have been judging wine for forty years and don’t have your natural ability,’ Elias insisted. ‘There’s only one amateur I can think of who comes close to matching your palate and he just left the building.’

Grace felt the same tremble of awareness she had felt at that dinner, when Buddy had started barking, but she didn’t believe in coincidence, and there had to be more than one family in Argentina that owned vineyards. And hadn’t Lucia said the Acosta vineyards had been languishing for years?

‘You don’t have to worry about Buddy,’ Elias was saying. ‘He won’t be a problem as you’ll both be travelling in style on the Acosta family jet.’

‘The Acosta family?’ Grace’s throat closed up as her worst fears were confirmed. ‘Who exactly is it I’m meeting in Argentina?’ she managed hoarsely.

Elias laughed, as if to confirm his thoughts that she was overreacting. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to face the whole tribe at once—just the kingpin, Nacho.’

‘Nacho?’ A sound that was half a laugh and half a hysterical sob squeezed out of her throat. ‘You have warned Señor Acosta that I will be travelling to Argentina in your place?’

Elias took too long to answer.

‘You haven’t?’ she said.

‘I won’t lose out to a competitor,’ Elias said stubbornly. ‘And I can’t see why you’re making such a fuss. You know the Acosta family, don’t you?’

‘You know I do. Lucia is my best friend. You must remember we worked together at the club. And, yes, I’ve met her brothers, too,’ she said, making sure to keep all expression out of her voice.

‘Well, there you are!’ Elias exclaimed. ‘You’ll be flying to the far west of their property, where I’m told it’s very beautiful. You’ll see the snow-capped Andes, and all those glorious rivers that feed the vines. It’s perfect wine-growing country—’ Elias stopped. ‘Oh, Grace, I’m so sorry …’

‘Please don’t be,’ she said. ‘What I can’t see I can’t tell you about, but I’ll make up for it in other ways, I promise. I’m sure the air will be different—and I can still smell. I can still feel the sun on my face. And the rain,’ she added wryly as the latest in a series of angry winter storms rattled the windows. ‘There will be so many new experiences—’ She stopped, remembering the one experience ahead that really frightened her: meeting the most formidable of the Acosta brothers again. ‘Was Nacho Acosta here today, by any chance?’

‘Yes. Nacho’s taken charge of the family vineyards,’ Elias confirmed breezily. ‘I’ve got every confidence in you,’ he stressed. ‘I know I couldn’t have a better representative. This trip is going to be a piece of cake for you, Grace.’

It was to be hoped the cake didn’t choke her.