The best part was she would pair the dress with a classic black blazer. With the jacket, the outfit was conservative enough for work. But without...
She studied her shoes and chose a pair of Dolce & Gabbana lace pumps with four-inch heels. She wasn’t usually a lace-and-bow kind of woman, but these were both sexy and sophisticated. Of course they were D&G, so it wasn’t as though she could actually go wrong.
She stepped into the shoes and then studied herself in the mirror. Jewelry should be simple, she thought, and went with diamond studs that Jack had given her when their divorce was final.
She transferred the items she would need for that night to a black silk clutch, then headed out the door.
Condor Valley Winery was set in the foothills, just above the vineyards. Although the sign in the parking lot said they closed at five this time of year, she parked by the main doors and walked up the paved path. She had no doubt that Angel would have made special arrangements. He was a man used to getting his way and he wouldn’t let a little thing like regular business hours deter him.
Sure enough a woman in her earlier twenties was waiting inside. She smiled. “Ms. Crawford?”
“Yes.”
“If you’ll follow me, please.”
The woman led Taryn to a small elevator that whisked them to the third floor. From there they went into what looked like a private library—a room filled with built-in bookcases and comfortable, black leather furniture. Double doors stood open and led to a large balcony with a bistro table and two chairs. From where she stood, Taryn could see the whole valley and the sun just beginning to set. Any chill was chased away by the portable heaters set up around the table.
“Let me get your appetizers,” the woman said, and excused herself.
A minute or so later she was back with two plates of small bites. Once she placed them on the table, she returned to the library and collected a bottle of red wine and two glasses. She expertly opened the wine but didn’t pour, then smiled at Taryn and left.
Taryn stepped out onto the balcony and breathed in the night air. Anticipation settled low in her belly, but there was also a kind of quiet comfort. It had been a long time since a man had taken care of her this way. Or maybe the fault was hers—maybe it had been too long since she’d let someone take care of her.
“Good evening.”
She turned and saw Angel standing in the doorway. He looked tall and broad—imposing in a black shirt and black pants.
“Hello,” she said, staying where she was, wanting him to come to her.
He didn’t disappoint. He closed the space between them and took her hands in his. “You came.”
“You’re not surprised.”
One eyebrow rose. “Maybe I am.”
She laughed. “I doubt that. Thank you for my orchid. It’s very beautiful.”
“It reminded me of you.”
His hands were warm, his grip gentle. He didn’t try to pull her close or make her feel as if he wouldn’t let go. A clever strategy because she found herself wanting to step nearer.
In her four-inch heels, she was nearly his height, so contortions would not be required if they were to kiss. She could just ease forward and find out if the faint heat sweeping through her was all about possibilities or if there was reality to the quivering.
Or not, she thought as she carefully took a single step back.
He released her instantly, then gestured to the chairs by the table. “Shall we?”
When they were seated, Angel poured them each a glass of wine. “This Cab is from their library collection. Aged longer than most of the wine they sell. It’s smooth, with a surprising finish.”
She hung her bag over the handle of her chair, then reached for the glass. “Why do I get the idea you’re talking about more than the wine? Although I’m not comfortable being described as aged.”
“Maybe I wasn’t talking about you,” he said, his gray eyes settling on her face.
“Yourself, then.” She tilted her head. “Yes, I can see that. Although I have some concerns about the surprising finish. What does that mean? A little squeak? A fist pump? Should I be worried?”
He chuckled, then touched his glass to hers. “Thank you for joining me tonight.”
“Thank you for asking me.”
She took a sip. The Cab was smooth, but there was still a hint of tannins at the end. Plenty of berry flavor, without it being overpowering.
“Why did you come to Fool’s Gold?” she asked.
“Justice moved the company here.”
“Was that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I like small towns. I grew up in one.” He turned his attention to the view. “You’re not from a small town.”
A statement or a question, she wondered. “No, I’m an L.A. girl at heart. Moving to Fool’s Gold has been a transition.”
“Then why not keep the company in la-la land?”
“I was outvoted. Jack, Kenny and Sam came here for a Pro-Am golf tournament. I’m still not clear on what happened that weekend, but when they returned to work on the following Monday, they announced we were moving.” She sipped her wine again. “Score is a democracy and I was in the minority. Of course they left all the details of moving up to me.”
“Naturally.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“West Virginia.” He glanced at her and smiled. “A place you’ve never heard of. Coal mining town.”
“I’ve never been in one,” she admitted.
“There’s good and bad. A lot of poverty with one large employer. The work is hard. My mom died when I was born, so it was my dad and me. I watched him come out of that coal mine day after day and swore I was going to get out.”
“Which you did.”
“I went into the military. When I left, I got involved with a security company doing about the same kind of work without so many rules.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant. Black ops stuff? Which, like the coal mining town, was more concept than reality to her.
“I’m sorry about your mom,” she said.
“Thanks. I never knew her.” His mouth curved up again. “The women on our block decided they were going to take her place. They were always looking out for me. It was like having twelve moms instead of one. Let me tell you, it was tough to be bad.”
She laughed. “Which you wanted to be.”
His gaze locked with hers. “Nearly all the time. But I learned patience. There were still opportunities, but I had to work for them.”
A message? She held in a shiver and reminded herself he was good. Better than she was used to.
“What about you?” he asked. “Suburbs? Two-point-four siblings and a white picket fence?”
An easy question for most, she thought, the need to shiver fading as if it had never happened. Tension crept through her, but she ignored the tightening in her shoulders as she tried to calculate how much to tell. And how to tell it such that he didn’t know she was lying.
“It was my dad and me, just like you,” she said, confident their situations couldn’t have been more different. “My mom left when I was young.”
“That’s rough.”
She shrugged because the truth—that her mother had walked away from