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She was fascinated to see how the men would play. How the testosterone party would unfold.
Every single one of them, as they arrived in everything from custom-made suits to cowboy hats, looked up at the American flag billowing from the porch, and undoubtedly, reminded himself again of its significance. Warren Davis was a national symbol of what made America great—a billionaire philanthropist who gave away more of his money than he kept. A patriot and financial genius who advised presidents on monetary policy and led social commentary. He was the man everyone wanted to know. The man people paid three and a half million to have lunch with at his charity auction date for the homeless, in the hopes they might pick up a miniscule amount of his brilliance.
He was also, as a stroke of fate would have it, the man who had chosen, along with his Irish wife, Sile, to adopt Quinn as a baby when her young Southern parents had been unable to care for her. Warren and Sile had barely brought their new baby home when Sile had miraculously fallen pregnant after years of unsuccessful fertility treatments and given Quinn her sister and best friend, Thea.
Thea, even now still primping herself in front of the mirror, fussing over yet another choice of hairstyle. Quinn grimaced and levered herself away from the window. “Please pick one and be done.”
Her sister squinted at herself and gave a dramatic sigh. “How am I supposed to choose with four of the world’s most powerful men coming for cocktails? This has to be daddy’s best idea ever. I mean, he has two single daughters right?”
Since her marriage to Julian had been a certified disaster, yes, that did put her squarely in that category. Not that she had any plans to ever repeat her mistake.
“Tonight is about getting to know potential partners,” she told her veterinarian sister, who knew as much about business as she knew about changing a tire. “Not speed dating.”
“Ha.” Thea shot her a rebellious look. “With a cattle and wine baron in the house, not to mention delicious Matteo De Campo.... You think I’m missing out on that opportunity?”
Quinn smiled. She wished, sometimes, she had just a little bit more of her younger sister’s boundless enthusiasm for life. For love. But she wasn’t sure she’d ever even had it to start with.
“Daniel Williams is beautiful,” Quinn drawled. “I’ll give you that.”
Thea tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder. “I fancy living on his ranch. I can take care of the animals while he tends to his vineyard. Although—” she put a finger to her mouth in a thoughtful gesture “—I’d gladly forget all about the animals if Matteo De Campo deemed me fit to give a second look. He is one real-life animal I wouldn’t mind taming.”
Quinn gave her a look from beneath perfectly manicured brows. “Matteo De Campo is a notorious playboy who couldn’t take a woman seriously if she were the only one left on the planet. And even then,” she declared, her lip curling, “he’d find it difficult to get past his love affair with himself.”
Thea threw out her hands. “Who cares? I hear a woman can’t be in the same room as him without throwing her panties at him. He’s that hot.”
“He’s not that good-looking.” Unless you went for the smoldering male à la perfume commercials who looked like he’d keep you up all night.
Her sister caught the gleam in her eye. “See? Undeniable. You need to throw off that ‘I was married and it sucked’ baggage and move on. Live a little.”
Quinn’s heart clamped into the hard little ball that seemed to be its permanent state since Julian had left. No one but her knew the truth of her marriage. The public line had been irreconcilable differences. What happened behind Davis doors was never revealed.
Better the truth of her marriage not be.
She forced a wry smile to her lips. “Don’t go throwing your panties at Matteo De Campo. Not only will he break your heart, but he’ll be mad when he loses the bid.”
Thea drew her brows together. “Have you already decided then?”
“No, but De Campo’s probably last on the list.” She wanted Danny William’s Silver Kangaroo. The small, award-winning Australian winery was the perfect eclectic fit for what she wanted to do with the Luxe brand.
“Daddy likes De Campo,” Thea said, following her to the door. “He said their new Napa wines are brilliant.”
“Daddy isn’t making the decision.”
Thea gave her a sideways look. “When are you going to stop trying to live up to this vision of perfection he expects? You could do that every day for the rest of your life and it’d still never be enough.”
Possibly true. But she was a little afraid she’d die trying. This was the biggest opportunity of her career and she intended to make her mark with it.
She did have to maintain some objectivity, she told herself as she and Thea made their way down the winding staircase, through the massive drawing room and out the French doors that led to the gardens where the cocktails were being served. It was only fair after all, even if she knew the choice she was going to make in the end.
The terrace in the middle of the immaculately landscaped gardens was buzzing as they arrived, the two CEOs of the larger spirit companies with their wives in attendance, while Daniel Williams and Matteo De Campo had obviously elected to fly solo, to Thea’s delight.
Surprising. Matteo’s Hollywood ex had been moaning in the tabloids about all of her ex-lover’s women, but not one was in sight tonight.
All eyes settled on her and her sister. Blonde Thea glowed with the prospect of meeting her Prince Charming while her dark-haired alter ego felt herself the instant target of four sets of male eyes. Not because she was beautiful, although she knew that she was. But because she was their ticket to massive international sales growth.
They were sizing her up. Waiting to see if she was as impressive as her track record. It sat on her shoulders with the almost oppressive weight that being Warren Davis’s daughter always had. She not only had to be better than the rest, she had to be ten times better.
It was exhausting.
Thea sucked in a breath. “I really may have to forgo my ranch-living plans. He is just unreal.”
Quinn didn’t have to ask which man her sister was talking about, because Matteo De Campo’s laserlike gaze was focused on her and it was like being in the path of an undeniable force of magnetism the likes of which she’d never experienced before. She’d met a lot of good-looking men. Her husband had been stunning...but he—he was something else. Unblinking, unashamedly approving of what he saw, his gaze took every inch of her in, right down to her toes. She swallowed hard. Shifted her weight so both designer-covered feet absorbed the impact.
“I hear he has a tattoo,” Thea whispered. “Hot, right?”
Quinn couldn’t help but wonder where on that tall, lean, muscular body it was. The dark suit that covered him was exquisite. The body better.
She found herself gaining a bit more respect for his legions of cast-offs as she returned his deliberate inspection. A woman might risk losing some self-respect over that. The photographs she’d seen of the youngest De Campo had been all about his lust for life, his freewheeling persona—the thick, unruly dark hair, the devil-may-care smile. But tonight, the hair was cropped close to his head so the sexy dark stubble that covered his square jaw showcased the perfection of his face. His expression was not the relaxed, indolent picture the tabloids loved to print. It was as intent as the night. Deliberate. Focused.
Damn. The “I am a sexy beast” stubble really worked for him.
She met his gaze, the amused half smile that curved his lips making her back stiffen. He was waiting for her to fall flat on her face. Waiting for her to fall all over him like every other woman did. She lifted her chin. He was so, so wrong on that. Julian had taught her well. The last thing any woman should trust was a pretty face in an expensive suit.
Summoning the cool, untouchable look she did so perfectly, she walked to her father’s side. He made the introductions, the two spirit company CEOs first, then the two younger men. All four were impressive, charismatic personalities who would stand out in a crowd from the pure power they exuded like a second skin. But even Daniel Williams, the golden-haired wine-and-cattle baron who looked like he’d just walked out of a cigarette commercial seemed to fade into the background with Matteo De Campo standing beside him. Silver-gray, she registered as she shook his hand. Matteo’s eyes were the exact color of the Chicago sky before a summer storm caused all hell to break loose.
Fitting then to feel that shiver slide up her spine.
“Quinn,” he murmured, keeping his gaze locked on hers as he folded his big, warm hand around her fingers. “A stunning name for a stunning woman.”
Her stomach did a funny roll as she retrieved her hand, the imprint of his fingers burning into hers. Is he for real?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. De Campo,” she murmured smoothly. “Although I feel as if I should already know you with all the tabloid attention you’ve been getting lately.”
