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CHAPTER ONE
THETOWERSANDhigh-rises of New York City glittered against the backdrop of a darkening summer sky. Adrian Cabrera raised his glass of Merlot to his lips and took a long drink, soaking in the sight of the metropolis from the second-floor balcony in the crowded Grand Ballroom of the Kingsworth Hotel.
The view was a preferred distraction from the vapid comments coming from the woman plastered against his side. Jackie—if he recalled correctly from her hurried introduction when she had appeared behind him—had wasted no time attempting to seduce him.
“Cabrera,” she purred. “Such a sexy last name.”
“A proud last name,” he countered, making no attempt to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Traced back four generations to an ancestor who planted the first grapevines at the base of the Sierra Nevada in Spain.”
“Like the Sierra Mountains in California?”
Adrian gritted his teeth. “The Sierra Nevada is a mountain range in southern Spain.”
“A winery at the foot of a mountain.” Jackie giggled. “How thrilling!”
Yes, being at the helm of Spain’s most successful winery and a member of the ultra-wealthy Cabrera clanwasthrilling. But he doubted his over-eager lady-friend would understand the excitement of a business acquisition, the anticipation of tasting a new wine that was the result of years of hard work...
No, all she cared about was a night spent with the mysterious Adrian Cabrera and perhaps a few weeks being jetted around the world on one of the family’s private planes.
He risked a glance down. A skintight orange gown enhanced Jackie’s slender figure, including the generous amount of cleavage that threatened to burst free at any second. Dark curls fell in an artfully arranged waterfall over her shoulder, accentuating sharp cheekbones and a large, blindingly white smile any model would envy.
But, other than the vaguest stirring of a physical response to her amply displayed breasts, he felt nothing. After years of entertaining himself with models, politicians, business leaders and actresses, he was very selective in his choice of bedmate. Married women and overly attentive ladies who wore their greed on their sleeves topped his off-limits list.
“I’d love to know more about your winery.” She smiled again and pressed her breasts flush against him.
The move jostled his arm. Ruby-red wine sloshed out of his glass onto the white cuff of his dress shirt. His mild irritation flared into icy displeasure.
“Oh, no! I’m so sorry...” Her voice trailed off as their eyes met. “Um... I’ll just let you get cleaned up.”
She scuttled down the length of the balcony and hurried down the stairs. He watched as she reached the ballroom floor and disappeared into a sea of evening gowns and tuxedos.
A glance down at his shirt made him sigh. He had plenty of dress shirts in his closet upstairs in the Roosevelt Penthouse Suite. It would only take ten minutes to change and rejoin the party. But the deviation to his routine annoyed him. He always spent the first half-hour of a wine release alone, surveying whatever grand room his event planner had booked and savoring the success that had brought him to this moment.
From evaluating the mineral levels in the soils of the vineyards to collaborating with his head of marketing on the international campaigns that had taken Cabrera Wine to the top of the industry, each wine release marked the end of a long, demanding journey.
As a Cabrera, he could have asked for much more by way of reward. All he wanted was thirty minutes to himself.
She’s gone. Focus on the party. Don’t let her ruin your night.
Tiffany chandeliers cast a sparkle over the golden ceiling as partygoers milled about the ballroom. Waiters expertly danced in and out of the guests with silver trays full of culinary treats like brie-stuffed mini burgers and pork chop bites with a tangy orange barbeque sauce.
Adrian’s blood had curdled when Cabrera Wine’s event planner, Calandra Smythe, had read the menu to him. Did Americans have to put barbeque sauce on everything?
Yesterday’s final tasting had altered his view somewhat, when he’d been forced to admit that the unique recipes brought out the velvety flavors of the Merlot. And the surprisingly tasty offerings had been a hit with both his American and international clients.
Down below, he watched Calandra flit through the crowd, her eagle eyes seeking out every tiny imperfection with laser precision. From relighting candles to adjusting the angle of the tall vases overflowing with Spanish bluebells and white carnations, she had everything under control. As always.
He’d started to turn back to the arched window, to pull the curtain aside and take just a moment longer to enjoy the sight of the skyline, when he caught sight of a woman gliding in and out of the hordes of people. Her confident, graceful movements, coupled with the tumble of blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, piqued his interest. Elegant, yes, but something about her seemed out of place compared to the stiff-necked men and women milling about.
The crowd broke for a moment. He could see her below him, illuminated by the golden light of the chandeliers and the glow of the hundreds of candles that lit the ballroom. Her head snapped up and their gazes collided, caught and held.
The distance between them didn’t diminish the sudden heat in his blood. Who was she? And why, after months of no one catching his interest, was he suddenly so drawn to this random stranger?
The woman looked away and the crowd surged once more. His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to women turning away from him. Between the handsome looks he’d inherited from his father, his family’s fortune and his fondness for ensuring his romantic partners left his bed feeling completely sated, he never had to seek out female companionship. It always came to him.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. It would be a novelty to pursue a woman who had dismissed him with a glance. Perhaps novelty was just what he needed.
“Are you hiding, brother dear?”
