Blame It on the Champagne. Nina Harrington

and not take risks, no matter how tantalising they might appear.

      Saskia lifted her chin slightly. She had to stay professional. Even if he was totally inside her comfort zone and oozing enough testosterone to make her forget her own name.

      ‘Just this.’ He breathed low and hoarse, his head tilted slightly to one side. ‘What would you say if I was prepared to sign a contract committing Rick Burgess Wines to hold a lunch meeting at least every week right here in Elwood House for the next two years?’

      He paused and let the silence create the anticipation he was looking for.

      ‘What would I say?’ Saskia repeated, lifting her chin slightly sideways so that she could smile up into his face without straining her back. ‘I would say thank you very much and here is a piece of paper and a pen.’

      ‘I thought that you might. But there is a catch.’

      ‘Am I going to like it?’

      ‘Like it? I hope so. You see, my company specialises in exciting wine made by a whole new wave of brilliant new winemakers from right across Europe. I need customers like you to take a risk and invest in these wines. But one short presentation is not nearly long enough. So…’ his hips shifted slightly, just in case she had not noticed how tight his jeans were, stretched over his muscular thighs ‘… I was hoping that you might be available to have dinner with me this evening. It would give me a chance to tell you more about what I had to offer. If you were free.’

      Free? She was free for dinner every evening.

      Rick was smiling at now, but she could see the muscles in his lower arm move slightly as they adjusted to a shift in his position. Dark brown hair curled onto broad muscular shoulders. Sinewy neck and jaw. Beyond rugged, physical and potent.

      Butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach under the intensity of that gaze and she had the sudden urge to toss her hair back, stick her chest out and flirt with him outrageously. His dark blue-grey eyes shone bright in the low light she used in the cellars to protect the wine. There was a certain slight unease around his lips as though he wanted to say something, reveal something, but thought better of it and held back.

      What he had to offer? Oh, she had a pretty good idea. Dangerous.

      Buying wine from him? Oh no. Fingers. Hot. Burnt.

      Suddenly she felt a desperate urge to fill the silence with chatter.

      ‘Building a reputation for excellence takes time. I only opened up the house to guests a few months ago and I cannot afford to risk my reputation by serving any else but the best.’

      ‘Absolutely.’ He nodded. ‘This is why I think my business proposition might just solve both of our problems rather neatly. My wonderful wines. Your fine reputation. Perfect fit.’

      She paused and licked her lips. ‘I don’t want to seem rude, but my clients expect the very best and it’s my job to make sure that they are not disappointed. But don’t worry, Angie has given me her contact details and has promised to be in touch about any future business meetings. I look forward to seeing you again at Elwood House.’

      Saskia stretched out her hand towards Rick and he glanced at it for a second before moving back, chuckling and wrapping his fingers around hers.

      ‘People don’t usually turn me down,’ he whispered, stepping forward under the spotlight until he was far enough away for Saskia to see the fine white scar lines that ran up one side of his face. ‘I’m curious. Are you always so sceptical? What do you want to know? Ask me anything during our dinner this evening and I’ll promise that I will tell you the truth.’

      Saskia was still reeling from his reply when Rick’s cellphone blared out a top ten music track and he glanced quickly at the caller ID, breaking the intensity of the moment.

      ‘You seem very confident that you have something that I might be interested in, Mr Burgess. Perhaps you could ask Angie to make an appointment for later in the week.’

      ‘Nope. Has to be tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven.’

      Pick her up. Oh no. This was not a date. She had to take some control back!

      ‘I sometimes walk along the South Bank around half seven,’ she gushed before her brain had time to engage.

      ‘Got it. Later.’

      Two fingers to the forehead in a quick salute and he turned on his heel and strolled away to the stairs as if he owned the place, leaving a Rick-sized space in her cellar.

      He hadn’t waited for her answer.

      The strange thing was; she couldn’t remember saying no.

      Saskia peered at her reflection in the screen of her smartphone, wiggled her head from side to side several times and pushed several stands of hair behind her ear. Large ornate drop earrings in the shape of a leaf swung freely in the late sunshine, reflecting back the light from the finely worked Indian silver.

      ‘Thanks, Amber. Those earrings are just perfect. I love them. You are a genius when it comes to style. What’s that? Takes one to know one. Well, thank you, kind lady. And don’t forget to thank Kate for the loan of her jacket. The colours work so well together.’

      She glanced quickly around the busy pavement to check that her quiet smirk had gone unseen. ‘Amber! Stop that. You are making me blush. Those earrings are staying on. This is not a hot date. I keep telling you. Business meeting. Stop laughing. Business! And no, I don’t want you to wait up for me. Cheek! Now go and be creative with the wedding plan. Talk to you later if you must. Later. Yes. Okay. I promise that I will have a nice time. Thank you. Yes.’

      Saskia chuckled out loud and flipped her phone closed. Kate and Amber had just spent over an hour helping her come up with the perfect outfit but, she had to admit, her style consultants had pulled together a smart but casual look which created just the right impression.