Drunk on Love(12)

She glanced over at her bag, hanging on the back of her office door. His number was still there, tucked inside of her wallet. Would she call him? Luke, of no last name. Hell, that might not even be his real first name. She hadn’t expected him to give her his number, just like she hadn’t expected him to drive her home. The man certainly had been polite, that was for sure. Her grin grew wider. Polite, and excellent in bed. She liked that combination.

Did he actually want to see her again? Or had he just given her his number because he was polite, and so it wouldn’t so obviously be a one-night stand? Was he hoping she didn’t text him, so he wouldn’t have to either ghost her or reluctantly go out with her again? Had he even given her a real number? It was weird that he’d written it down for her, right, and not just put it in her phone?

She shook her head. No, it was better not to find out. She didn’t want to spoil the memory of last night. And this morning. They’d been close to perfect. Why mess with perfection?

She swiped on lipstick and reached for her phone. This was just a phone call, not video, but she liked to put lipstick on before important calls to give herself a little boost. She dialed the number of the head of the restaurant group she’d been wooing . . . though, she was pretty sure he thought he was wooing her, which was just how she liked it. In her love life, she’d never been a fan of playing hard to get with men, but in business it was a strategy that hadn’t failed her yet. It was especially key in the wine business, where part of the allure was to seem exclusive—Elliot hated it when she said this; he liked it to be all pure and about the wine, but that’s why he was the winemaker and she was in charge of the business side.

Midway through the call she folded her hands together.

“Oh, thank you, Jeff,” she said in a cool tone, even though she wanted to jump up and down. She was very glad this call wasn’t a video call—her face might have betrayed her. “We have pretty limited quantities, so I don’t want to overpromise, but I think we can make this happen.”

Even she was impressed with herself for this one.

“I’ll take what you can give me,” Jeff said. “I’ll get the new wine lists ready now.”

She tried not to let herself smile, just in case it showed in her voice.

“Excellent,” she said. “I’ll email you the details.” She glanced at the clock on her wall. Oh God, it was after ten already?

“Jeff, I have to run, I have another call in a few minutes. But I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, Margot. And . . .”

For a busy executive, it took forever to get this guy off the phone. But finally, a few minutes after ten, she managed it.

That call couldn’t possibly have gone better. Of course she knew how much wine they had to sell him, but you couldn’t promise people like this everything all at once.

She’d actually wanted to get off the phone before ten so she could greet the new people starting in the tasting room today. She hadn’t heard anything at the door—maybe they hadn’t arrived yet. She stood up to go out into the tasting room to check. Just then, her office door swung open all the way.

“Oh good, there you are,” her brother said. “I heard you on the phone, so I let our new staff in. You already know Marisol, but I’d like to introduce you to Luke. Luke Williams, my sister and the CEO of Noble Family Vineyards, Margot Noble.”

Margot could only stare. Standing next to her brother in her office doorway, in a white button-down shirt and jeans, was Luke. Her Luke. The Luke whose bed she’d woken up in that morning. Wearing—she was pretty sure—the same jeans she’d pulled off him last night.

How the hell did she get herself into this?



* * *





LUKE WAS PRETTY SURE that the stunned look on Margot’s face exactly echoed the look on his own face.

He’d slept with his new boss? Seriously? After everything that had happened with his old job, this was supposed to be his nonstressful new job, the one just for fun, to give himself something to do. And now he’d done this? He had the wild impulse to laugh out loud, which he barely overcame.

Margot recovered before he did. A bland, businesslike smile descended over her face, and she walked around her desk to them.

“Hi, Marisol. Hi, Luke.” She held out her hand first to Marisol, and then turned to him. “Nice to meet you. Welcome to Noble Family Vineyards.”

Not by the slightest look or wink or curve of a smile did she intimate that they’d already met. Or that they’d had sex less than three hours ago.

Luke tried to put that out of his mind.

“Hi, Margot,” he said. “Nice to meet you, too. Excited to be here.”

She looked at her brother, the serious, thoughtful guy Luke had interviewed with, on an impulse, the Friday before. Why hadn’t Luke looked on the winery website more? Why didn’t he know that the other half of the Noble Family was the sister named Margot?

“Shall we give them a tour?” Margot asked her brother.

Luke tried not to look at her. Especially not at that V at her neckline, at the valley between her breasts that he’d dragged his tongue through last night. Good God. This could not be happening.

He’d driven away from her place this morning with no idea if he’d ever see her again. He hadn’t really been able to read her. She hadn’t given him her number, but he’d hoped she’d text him. He liked her, he’d liked talking to her, he’d liked that she was a person in Napa Valley who was neither related to him nor had known him since he was a teenager, but whom he’d met on his own.