Scent of Darkness (30 page)

"A thousand years." Now Ann understood. "Definitely not a coincidence."

"Exactly." Rurik's brown eyes grew still and deep and satisfied. "This guy knew the first Konstantine Varinski."

Chapter 29

A limo picked Jasha and Ann up at the airport and drove them through the summer heat, past the miles of grapes, past the other wineries, and down the long, treelined drive to the tall French-style chateau that housed Wilder Wines.

It was afternoon and the height of the tourist season, and Jasha noted with satisfaction that the parking lot was full of cars and buses. Tourists lined up for the tasting tours, while on the shady, well-tended grounds, other tourists sat at picnic tables indulging in the decadent premade lunches and glasses of wine.

His family rright be going to hell—literally—and his romance might be faltering, but by God, the business was booming.

The chateau's main floor held the tasting room, the deli and sales counter, storage for the vintages they were selling, and a packing and shipping center. In the basement the tour guides explained how wine was made, and displayed the. great stainless steel tanks awaiting this year's pressing. The top two floors housed the winery offices, so the limo deposited Jasha and Ann at the back door. Together they took the elevator up to the plush reception area, two professionals in suits and her with a briefcase. A briefcase that held the first icon.

They didn't talk.

At first, Jasha hadn't noticed they weren't speaking. He'd been too busy congratulating his brother for his clever combination of intuition and research. He'd helped Rurik get plane tickets, driven him down to Seattle, and dropped him off at the airport. Then he'd come home and sat in the living room with the rest of the family, wondering what Rurik would find. Some pure, historical data?

That would be a disappointment to them, of course, but a huge boon to Rurik's career, and would bring him more grant money for more excavation.

But Rurik hoped to find information on how to break the deal with the devil. Or even . . . discover another icon.

All that evening, Ann had talked; she'd asked questions; she'd expressed awe and wonder. In the morning, as they prepared to return to California, Jasha noticed stiffness, but put it down to a slow resumption of her business persona.

It was only gradually he had noticed—she wasn't speaking to
him.

And why not? Hadn't he proposed to her? Hadn't he told her he loved her?

He supposed she'd been indignant because he hadn't gone down on one knee, offered her roses and jewels and a life on a cushion. But he'd done that with Meghan and she hadn't been impressed, or at least not impressed enough to marry him.

Thank God.

Besides, Ann was an eminently sensible woman. She surely understood that in this case, his family required his whole attention.

You'll do anything for the sake of your family.

He should have done more than show her how easily he could seduce her. That sure as hell hadn't been his smartest move. But when Ann, gentle, kind, sensible Ann, squared her stubborn chin and told him his love wasn't enough, she drove every battle tactic from bis head and he wanted to show her exactly what he did feel.

Unfortunately, she seemed to think his lust for her was no different from his lust for other women.

He snorted.

Startled, Ann glanced at him.

The elevator doors opened, and Ann walked out ahead of him.

He stood still and watched.

She moved like a Spanish dancer, sinewy and graceful.

Yesterday, his father had tried to slap some control into him, but all Jasha wanted to do was bound after her and take her down. He wanted to roll on the floor with her, kiss her until she released that deeply passionate nature she hid so well, then undress her and . . .

Take her for granted? Hell, when she was around, he had trouble keeping bis mind on business at all, much less on the business of survival.

Was that love?

Yes, but not the kind that made him turn his back on all he'd loved before. Instead, it was the kind of love that made him bring Ann into the middle of his pack, where she would be safest, and keep her there.

"Mr, Wilder! Miss Smith! We didn't know you were coming!" The pretty young receptionist got to her feet so quickly Jasha suspected she'd been reading a book in her desk drawer.

"Surprise," he answered.

Ann placed her hand over Nicole's as it hovered over the phone. "Let's keep it a surprise."

They headed down the hallway, past the windows of the conference room where wine salesmen and wine buyers met. Shawn, their lead salesman, stood talking to the buyer for Austin Liquor, showing him Wilder Wines's gold medals. Shawn indicated them as they walked past. He had no qualms about using his good-looking boss and his long-legged assistant as a symbol of Wilder Wines. When they married, Shawn would view it as an advertising triumph.

When they married . . .

Ann was trying to keep their professional life on a businesslike basis.

In the normal course of events, Jasha would completely approve. Office romances were the death of a business relationship. And when it came to business relationships, there were none he treasured as much as the one he had with Miss Ann Smith.

Or at least ... he had.

Now he just damned well wanted her to fling herself at him like she'd done on that rock in the forest. Or leap up to defend him as she'd done when his father gave him hell. Or at least stop retreating every time he advanced.

He needed to think ahead, stay one step ahead of Ann in the way she thought and the moves she would make. If he was canny, he could keep her so occupied with business that she didn't notice he'd taken over her life.

Celia Kim, Jasha's production manager, walked out of the copy room, her head down as she flipped through charts. She dodged them with a scowl, then did a double take. Her face blossomed into a warm smile. "You're back! Did you, er, get everything cleared up?" She looked meaningfully between Jasha and Ann.

As code went, that was the "worst Jasha had ever heard.

"Everything's fine," Ann said in a clipped tone.

"Very cleared up." He smiled charmingly, presenting his usual competent facade . . . and a little more. "I enjoyed having Ann at my home. In fact, I took her up to meet my parents."

"Really?" Celia drawled the word, imbuing it "with every meaning.

Ann frowned with austere displeasure.

"Yes," he said. "We're going to be working long hours for the next few weeks until they're cleared up some more."

Celia simpered like a girl. "I'm so glad!"

Ann kept walking toward their office suite.

"Although it's a little icy today," he said in an undertone to Celia.

"I'm surprised," she answered. "She's always adored you."

"Passion has caught her by surprise."

Celia glanced between him and Ann. "In a good way, I hope."

"A very good way." Actually, he'd used passion to push Ann into a corner, and he hoped he could find a way to save her pride before more trouble loomed on their horizon.

As Ann reached their office, Celia hurried forward and called, "I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

Ann tried the knob. It was locked. She looked back inquiringly.

Celia mouthed to him, "Jordan and Sophia."

The head vintner and one of the women from receiving.

Jasha flushed with a surprising rage. "Really?" In the suite where Ann labored in the outer office and guarded his privacy, where they had spent long hours in his inner office talking and working? "I don't think so." He strode to the door, unlocked it, and caught the two lovers in an embrace that left nothing to the imagination.

They both jumped and stared, and Jordan stammered, "Look, Jasha, I can explain—"

"Not if I don't listen. You two get dressed, clean out your lockers, and pick up your checks. I'll call the cleaners to wipe off Ann's desk." Jasha shut the door with a thump.

"I knew this was going to happen." Ann leaned against the far wall in tine corridor. "I should never have left."

"This is not your fault," Celia answered sharply.

"Celia's right." Jasha took Ann's hand and led her back down the hall toward the cafeteria. Celia followed. "I understand irresistible passion"—he kissed her fingers—"but those two can suffer from it somewhere else, and not during working hours."

"He's a creep and she's"—Celia glanced at Ann— "also a creep."

He'd noticed that before. When Ann was around, everyone used their exotic vocabulary sparingly. She had that effect on people—they were on their best behavior.

"Why has this place gone to hell in six days?" he asked.

"Ann keeps an eye on things.” Celia answered. "Because she does take responsibility for everything. She watches everything. She works all the time."

"Ann, I should give you a raise." He smiled his best winsome smile.

But it was wasted, because Ann didn't look at him. "You certainly should."

She didn't want to talk about irresistible passion; she didn't want to meet his eyes . . .

"Let me get us something to drink." Ann twisted her hand free. With a glance around at the empty cafeteria, she placed her briefcase on the chair next to him and headed for the coffee center.

Celia looked between the two of them.

He shrugged and smiled ruefully, trying to defuse the tension, knowing full well if Celia sensed trouble, the entire company would be on alert watching their boss and his secretary.

Damn civilization. Damn proper workplace behavior. He wanted to go back into the forest with his mate and show her the way of the wolf.

But then they would come out again, and again they'd have to deal with the winery and their obligations and his family. They needed to get this settled, and settled in such a way that Ann wore his ring on her finger and slept in his bed every night.

He sat at one of the tables and indicated the chair across from him. When Celia had seated herself, he leaned close. "Meeting her away from the office made it impossible to resist her. She wore this beautiful dress—"

"I helped her pick it out."

"Good work." Come to think of it, he remembered that dress. Black-and-white, with one big button . . . he'd seen her walking down the stairs, and with each step, her long leg had slid through the wrap.

"What else?" Celia asked eagerly.

"She was so shy and so sweet—oh, I can't talk about it." He leaned back in his chair. "It was perfect."

"Except the part about the wine deal going sour."

"We didn't talk about it a lot." He smiled at Ann as she placed a cup before him.

"What's happened since we left?" Ann asked, still with that businesslike tone.

"The Ukrainian deal is definitely off. They sent some really ugly faxes, but when we couldn't get ahold of you guys, we didn't know what to do." Celia had clearly had a rough time.

"I'll need to see those," Jasha said.

"They were the wrong company to take us international." Ann handed a cup to Celia. She put the briefcase on the floor between her and Jasha, and slid into that chair.

"True." Jasha stared into the milky depths, then up at Celia. "I liked them because they spoke Russian and I didn't need an interpreter, but really, interpreters are cheaper than prima donna CEOs.”

Celia grinned and he saw the tension slide out of her shoulders. "Yeah, I thought that, too."

"I wish I'd known that before I chased you up the coast, Jasha." Ann's tone was sharp to the point of sarcasm.

A fairly new development for Ann.

What a hell of a time for her to get comfortable enough to talk back to him.

"We had a nice vacation anyway." Jasha cradled the cup as he spoke to Celia. "I introduced Ann to my family. We all talked about the wine business, and we've decided to keep expanding across the US. What do you think?"

Celia leaned back, suddenly so relaxed that she smiled with disproportionate pleasure. "Great! I recommended that strategy last year, and I still think it's a sound policy. Less risky, with huge potential for success."

"I remember your report." He hadn't liked it at the time. "After Ann and I get caught up, let's go over it together."

"Let's!" Celia glanced at her watch. "Damn. I've got a teleconference. Good to see you two back . . . together.”

With a sense of a job well-done, he watched Celia leave. She had gone from being Ann's advocate to being his, and perhaps that was unfair to Ann, but in this battle between him and his lover, he needed all the ammunition he could amass, and if that included commandeering her best friend, well, that made the last fifteen minutes a brilliant maneuver.

He turned to Ann. "I would hope your office is dean, but if it's not, you can come into my office and help me with the mail." Alone in his office. He could close the door. Lock it. And allow no one to come in until she had confessed her love, agreed to marry him, and yielded to him. Yielded everything.