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The other two looked horrified.
She smiled. “It’s okay, I really don’t want that to happen, but it may have to if I can’t find a way to make the second option work.”
“Whatisthe second option?” asked Piper.
Mary Ellen smiled. “You want to buy it yourself and run it your way, right?”
Chelsea nodded. “I do. I just have to figure out a way to fund it.”
They all sat there staring at each other for a moment. Chelsea was glad that the two of them knew how things were for her. Most people assumed that she could have whatever she wanted—that her parents would pay. That wasn’t the case. They’d made her—and her brothers—work hard to earn their way in life. She was under no illusions that her dad would just give her the winery. If she wanted it, she’d have to buy it. She just had to figure out how. She owned shares in Hamilton-Groves, and she could sell them. Smoke had done that a long time ago when he effectively left the family. She didn’t want to give up all her stake in the family business, but she might be able to figure something out.
“Are you ready to order, ladies? Or are you holding a seance?” Molly grinned around at them. “Is everything okay?”
Chelsea nodded. “Yeah, it will be.”
Molly leaned forward and poked her arm. “Are you going to tell me what’s the matter? Maybe I can help. I can be your friend.”
Chelsea laughed. The first time Molly had said those words to her was over twenty years ago—when they first met in grade school, and Chelsea was upset about a boy who was teasing her. “The short version is, my one-night stand from Saturday showed up this morning as the new consultant for Zosca.”
Molly’s eyes widened.
“And to make matters worse, I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s going to make recommendations that I can’t live with, so I need to find a way to buy the business, so I can run it the way I want to.”
“Wow!” Molly smiled. “Can’t you use your charms to persuade him to make recommendations that’d work for you?”
Chelsea shook her head. “Nope. You know me better than that. What’s weird is that I feel like I know him better than that, too. He wouldn’t do it, he’s a man of integrity.”
Mary Ellen raised an eyebrow. “And you figured that out while he was screwing you silly?”
They all laughed.
“No. You can just tell. You know when a person is honorable or not, and Grant just is.”
Piper gave her a knowing smile. “It sounds to me that not sleeping with him again might prove harder than you think.”
Molly grinned at her. “You like him, don’t you?”
Chelsea nodded. “I do, but that’s irrelevant. I like him, but I love Zosca. I can’t let him get in the way.”
~ ~ ~
Grant sat in his room staring at his laptop. He was staring at the accounts for Zosca, but he wasn’t seeing them. Instead, he was seeing Chelsea. Chelsea in the red dress, looking like a hot party girl on Saturday night. Chelsea in the sharp suit, looking like a tough nut to crack in the boardroom this morning. He closed his eyes and blew out a sigh. Chelsea with her eyes closed as he took her against the wall in the hallway. Chelsea naked in his bed, staring up into his eyes as he positioned himself above her and … No! He had to stop this shit! She was no longer the girl he’d been with on Saturday night. She was now the client. Kind of. Mr. Hamilton was really the client, but Chelsea could benefit from this exercise, too.
Grant had spent the last couple of hours working on preliminary workups. Plural. Two workups. He shook his head. It hadn’t taken him long to do the first one—the one Mr. Hamilton wanted. There were so many costs that could easily be cut without affecting production. The company was overstaffed, the wines were underpriced. He shook his head again. It should be a simple, straightforward project. Anyone could come in and see ways to improve the bottom line easily. The second workup was a bit different. It was for Chelsea. He hadn’t been brought in to do that, but he couldn’t help it. He understood what she was trying to do. She wanted to pay people well and take care of her employees. She wanted to create great wines—even if that cost a little more than creating wines that were merely good. She was pricing lower than she should because she was distributing to smaller niche markets—markets where her wines could grow a name and a following. If she ended up running the business her way—and he believed she would—there were lots of ways she could operate more efficiently without sacrificing her values. He wanted to document those for her.
He got up and went to look out the window. It was another beautiful evening. Normally when he was working an assignment, it didn’t matter where he was or what it was like. He kept his head down. His surroundings had no impact because he didn’t notice them. It was different here, though, and he wasn’t sure if it was the place itself—he’d always loved Napa—or if Chelsea had something to do with his restlessness. She was out there somewhere. He wondered what she was doing, who she was with. His heart raced as a thought hit him. Maybe she had a boyfriend? No. He needed to get a grip. He knew she didn’t have a boyfriend—he’d eavesdropped on her conversation with Mary Ellen about breaking up with the guy!
He turned away from the window and went back to the desk, wondering what tomorrow would hold. For all the work he’d done with the books, he knew there’d be so much more for him to learn by being on site. It was always the way. Reading about the way a company operated only gave you a snapshot, being there in the trenches, experiencing the day-to-day operations was totally different. He always looked forward to that part. This time he was looking forward to it even more so—because it meant he’d be around Chelsea again.
Chapter Eight
The Zosca vineyard was smaller than most in the area, but it was one of the most beautiful. Grant parked his rental car in front of the offices and got out. He turned to look back at the valley. The vineyard stood on the upper slopes, and the view was magnificent. He stood there for a few moments—taking it all in. He’d traveled the world for his work, but as far as he was concerned, this was the most beautiful place on earth. He knew his affection for the place influenced that belief. He’d always hoped that one day he’d make it back here, back to the place he’d grown up and which held so many of his happiest childhood memories.
“Good morning.” He turned and sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Chelsea standing at the bottom of the steps. She was so damned beautiful. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she looked fresh and breezy in jeans and a white shirt. He smiled, knowing that he’d be adding this image of her to the growing gallery in his mind.
She gave him a puzzled look, and it was only then that he realized he was staring like an idiot and hadn’t yet spoken.
“Sorry. Good morning. I was just admiring the view.”
