Back in His Bed: Boardroom Rivals, Bedroom Fireworks! / Unfinished Business with the Duke / How to Win the Dating War

Brenna sighed and lifted her head. Everything looked exactly the same, seeming to belie the upheaval she’d just gone through. The glowing lights from the pool, the bubbling hot tub, the chirp of the crickets and the smell of the flowers created a serene setting designed to soothe—exactly what she’d come looking for tonight. But it was wasted on her now.

Her insides tumbled over each other and her head ached from the emotional extremes and pressure. Even her wine couldn’t calm the storm within her. Grabbing her robe, which she didn’t bother putting on, she concentrated on making her shaky legs move her back to the privacy of her bedroom quickly.

Because, damn it, Jack had made her cry. Again.

Chapter Five

“‘EVERY day is a beautiful day at Amante Verano.’ Isn’t that your motto?” Dianne sing-songed the greeting as she poked her head around the lab door and extended a steaming mug in Brenna’s direction.

Brenna accepted the coffee with a grateful smile. After another restless, miserable night, the heady aroma of Di’s high-octane brew was a welcome jolt to her sluggish system. “Ever since you printed it on my coffee mug it is.”

“Then why do you look like someone kicked that puppy you claim you’re going to get?”

She wouldn’t be able to avoid this conversation for long. She might as well go ahead and get it over with. “One guess.”

“Jack.” Dianne pushed a rack of vials and testing supplies to the back of the counter and pulled herself up to sit, her legs swinging gently. “Are you two still fighting? Come on, Brenna, surely there’s a better way to sort this out?”

“I wish. Every conversation—no matter how nice I try to be—always deteriorates into a shouting match. And last night was a nightmare. I thought exes were supposed to get more civil as time progresses. Not us.” Brenna shook her head and leaned back in her chair.

“Unfinished business, I think.”

Brenna stared into her coffee. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Dianne snorted. “Try that with someone who didn’t witness the whole thing. I watched you fall goofystupid in love, elope, and then divorce in less than six months. I also know what that did to you—even if you tried to hide it from everyone else.”

Her stomach was hollow enough at the moment. She didn’t need Dianne making it worse. “Where’s Chloe?” she asked with forced cheerfulness.

“With her father, learning the intricacies of wine-making, testing and probably teething on your new digital refractometer. Now, don’t change the subject.” She shook her head in disappointment. “It was a weak attempt, anyway. No points for effort.”

“I thought it might work there for a minute,” Brenna grumbled.

“With someone else, maybe. But you can’t fool me. Now, spill. What is going on with you two?”

She certainly wasn’t going to go into detail. She still hadn’t made sense of it yet herself. “You know the basics. Then, last night, Jack offered to give me his half of the winery.”

Dianne lit up and she clapped her hands. “That’s fantastic! It’s not perfect, I know, but it beats…” She trailed off as Brenna shook her head slightly. “Oh, no. There’s a ‘but,’ isn’t there? I hate the ‘but.’”

“No ‘but.’ An ‘if.’”

Dianne’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I’m not following you. An ‘if’? What kind of ‘if’ ?”

Brenna glanced over to make sure the lab door was firmly closed. “Jack offered to give me his half if—” She took a deep breath. “If I slept with him.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not serious?” Brenna nodded, and Dianne’s jaw dropped. “That’s—that’s—that’s…”

“Disgusting? Amoral?” she offered. “Brilliant? Good business sense? I honestly don’t know.”

“But you didn’t.” Di looked at her carefully. “Did you?”

“No! Do you think I’d be in this bad shape if I was now sole owner?” Brenna leaned back in the chair and took another sip of coffee. “I have to admit, though, it was pretty tempting.” And if she’d given in to that temptation she wouldn’t have been turned inside out by the rest of their conversation.

“And I can see why. You get everything you want just for a little nookie? That’s a helluva return on your investment.” Brenna felt her own eyebrows go up at the words, and Dianne cleared her throat. “Not that you would, though. That would be wrong.”

“I had no idea you had such a practical Machiavellian streak. In some ways it does seem like a relatively minor thing to do—I mean, it’s not like I’ve never had sex with him before.”

“Ah-ha!” Dianne jumped off the counter. “That’s what was tempting you. Not the vineyard. Oh, no. Sex with Jack again was the temptation.”

That much was true. No sense in lying. “Yes. Jack was the temptation. I haven’t forgotten what it was like. I remember every single detail.” Images danced through her memory, bringing a physical response. “Vividly.”

“So do I, and I only heard them from you,” Di said, fanning herself.

“But I’m not stupid. Physically and financially it sounds like a pretty decent deal, but honestly—and if you repeat this I’ll kill you—I’m afraid it would hurt too much. In here.” She placed a hand over her chest.

“Afraid you wouldn’t be able to respect yourself in the morning?”

“That, too.” She’d come to several conclusions in the wee hours of the morning. Including that one.

“Ahh.” Dianne bit her lip. She understood. “Jack still has a piece of you. I suspected as much.”

“I don’t know how or why, but, yeah, it seems he does. You’d think I’d be over him by now. It’s been a long time.”

“Avoidance doesn’t mean you’ve been dealing.”

“I guess not. Now look at me.” Brenna balanced her elbows on her knees and let her head rest in her hands. “I’m a mess. And I’m in a hell of a mess.”

“That explains a lot of the fighting.” Dianne returned to her perch on the counter and drummed her nails on it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Unfinished business, remember? Maybe Jack has some, too.”

“Oh, please.” Jack didn’t sound like someone with unfinished business—unless she counted the winery, of course. “You’re insane. And that noise is making me insane.”

Dianne stopped the drumming and folded her hands in her lap. “Jack doesn’t need to bribe or blackmail women to get them to sleep with him. There’s got to be a reason he propositioned you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d thought about that, too, and decided not to dig too deep lest she find something to make her even worse off than she already was. “I have to admit, though, it’s the one thing we were really good at. It was everything else that didn’t work.”

“Still…even good sex can’t be that hard for him to come by. There are lots of women in San Francisco, and he’s rich, young, and unbelievably handsome. He doesn’t need to hit you up for ex-sex for a little relief.”

Pulling her hair out sounded like a grand plan about now. “Argh. Can we pick another subject now? Please?”

“Just one more question.” Dianne turned serious. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think the offer is open now anyway—not after last night’s blowout. I may sound like a broken record, but I just don’t know.”

“You’ll figure it out. I know you will.” Dianne left her then, squeezing her shoulder in comfort and support as she passed Brenna’s chair. Dianne also left the Thermos of coffee for her, but her stomach didn’t seem stable enough to take more.

Brenna stared at the walls—old pictures, notes written in her mother’s elegant handwriting, label prototypes, newspaper clippings and lists of local growers all competed for space. She would figure it out. She had to. But last night’s revelations wouldn’t leave her alone.

She’d loved Jack, but he’d also offered an excitement she’d lacked living out here on the property. When that had gone to hell she’d slunk home, to the one place where she understood who and what she needed to be. She’d thrown herself into Amante Verano—partly because she loved it, but also partly to fill the gap losing Jack had created.

Right or wrong, though, this was her life now. Everything she’d worked for in the last ten years had come to this moment. Jack’s presence had just created a wrinkle; the blast from her past shaking her world a little. She needed to come to a workable arrangement with Jack, and once she did everything would go back to normal.

And Jack himself…Well, she needed to get past old hurts and old feelings and remember what they were now—not what they had been. All she had to do was ignore that pull he had on her and take back that little piece of her he still seemed to have. Needless to say sleeping with Jack was out of the question. For any reason, she told herself.

In the meantime, sitting around moping in frustration wasn’t going to change anything—at least she knew that much. She also had a to-do list a mile long, and she wouldn’t accomplish any of it hiding out in her lab.

Her first stop was the storeroom, where the banal task of inventory was waiting for her. Before she could get started, though, her cellphone rang. Fishing it out of her back pocket, she checked the number. What could Di want?

“Where’s Jack?”

She eyeballed the boxes containing bottles, mentally calculating. “At the main house, I assume.”

“No, because I’m at the main house. His car’s gone.”

Brenna’s heart jumped in her chest, then sank. Which is it? she asked herself. Am I happy or not? “Gone?”

Di sounded exasperated. “I can’t believe he’d take off without telling anyone. That’s just plain rude. And after what you said about last night…”

It was a bit of a slap in the face. “Jack can come and go as he pleases. He doesn’t owe anyone any kind of explanation.”

“Maybe he just went into town for something. Want me to check his room and see if his stuff’s gone? It would give us a clue if he’s planning on coming back or not.”

“Di, no. If he’s not coming back he’ll call. Or have his lawyer call. It’s not like anything is settled. We should enjoy the break while we can.”

Then why didn’t she feel any relief? She still felt the tightness around her chest that hurt when she breathed. Good thing I didn’t sleep with him.

“But Brenna…”

“Don’t you have something you need to do? Something useful?”

“Fine.” Dianne grumbled. “But I wonder where he went? And why?”

Me, too. “It’s not our business.”

She wasn’t naïve enough to believe Jack had simply given up and gone home, and the knots in her stomach tightened. No, Jack had something cooking, and she wasn’t going to like it.

“You’re off your game. That’s the closest I’ve come to beating you in five years.” Roger bounced the blue ball in his direction and Jack caught it easily. “Whatever it is, keep it up. I could get used to not having my ass handed to me twice a week.”

Roger’s words echoed in the enclosed court as he wiped a towel across his sweaty face. Jack took aim, then sent the ball flying down the court to bounce off the wall and hit Roger in the leg. “I’ll never be that off my game.”

But Roger was right. He was distracted. Two days of dealing with Brenna and he couldn’t even keep his mind on a racquetball game. He couldn’t decide which was more of a distraction, though: remembering the feel of her skin and the way she’d reacted to his touch, or the look on her face when she accused him of breaking her heart.

“I have three ex-wives, remember?” Roger continued as he packed up his gear. “As your attorney and your friend, I can tell you it never gets any better. The path of least resistance is your best bet. Expensive, but expedient. If you want to stay sane, that is.”

“I think I’ve figured that out for myself.” Jack opened the door and stepped out into the cool air of the gym. Brenna had been up and gone before he’d left the house this morning, so he had no idea how she was handling everything that had happened last night.

He’d finally figured out what he wanted around three o’clock this morning, and having a plan had allowed him to finally sleep a little. The erotic dreams of Bren awaiting him had been nice, but the memory of those dreams was definitely a distraction this morning.

“That’s a shame. I was looking forward to stomping on you in the near future.”

Jack shrugged as Roger fell into step beside him and they headed for the locker room. He had a three o’clock meeting, and he needed to put in a couple of hours at the office before he headed back to Sonoma.

“You know, investing in a winery sounds interesting.”

Jack stopped. “Good Lord, not you, too? It’s like an epidemic. Everywhere I turn, someone wants to own a winery.”

Roger grinned. “Except you, for some reason.”

“Because I have no romantic notions about wine-making.” Jack returned the greetings of the socialites at the juice bar, and got moving again before any of them decided to come over and say hello in person. He didn’t have time—or the inclination at the moment—to deal with that.

Roger trotted to catch up. “Come on, how difficult could it be? Stomp a few grapes, mingle with the tourists, drink a lot. Sounds like a sweet job to me.”

Jack spared a glance to see if Roger was kidding. Shockingly, Jack didn’t think he was. “When was the last time you were in a vineyard?”

“I took the tour a couple of years ago, when the last set of in-laws visited.”

Maybe Bren was right about not selling to just anyone. “And that makes you an expert, of course. Trust me, Brenna would cheerfully and painfully remove your feet if you put them anywhere near her precious grapes.”

Roger spun the dial on his locker casually. “I’m surprised you’re being so generous. Brenna Walsh must really love you.”

That stopped him in his tracks. “What?”

Backtracking, Roger sputtered. “I mean, you’re the best ex-husband a woman could ask for. She can’t be cursing your name too often.”

He doubted that. Brenna was probably burning him in effigy right now.

“You’re setting a bad precedent for the rest of us,” Roger continued.

Jack closed his locker with a satisfying bang. “Tell you what. You deal with your ex-wives, and I’ll deal with mine.”

Roger put his hands up and backed away. “Fine. I’ll have the papers on your desk this afternoon.”

Good. He’d have them in hand when he went back to Amante Verano tonight. He’d use the weekend to go through the rest of Max’s things and get Brenna on board with the new plan. By Monday this whole situation would be off his plate and his life could go back to normal.

As the hot water of the shower kneaded his muscles, he realized there was still one last possible problem with his plan. Was Brenna over last night’s debacle yet, or was she nursing her anger today, building steam to go another round or two? The fight, the rehashing of the past—it all left a bad taste in his mouth, but it didn’t dampen the fire in his blood. Remembering Brenna’s physical response only fanned it. He’d reacquainted himself with the way she smelled and the feel of her skin. If he’d just kept his big mouth shut…

Grimacing, he turned the water to cold and pushed the image of Brenna—deliciously wet and covered only in a scrap of fabric—from his mind. He had a lot of real work to do today, and a raging erection wasn’t going to help.

Concentrating on the zoning issues for the new property in Sacramento did help, and while he might have been slightly distracted during the endless meetings, he managed to keep Brenna off his mind for the better part of the afternoon.

As promised, Roger’s courier had the documents on his desk before the end of the business day, and Brenna was once again front and center in his thoughts. Only this time it was the image of Brenna, teary-eyed and trying to hold it together, that kept appearing.

Brenna had said she was finished crying for him. And she’d said it so candidly, without any other pretense; he was leaning toward believing it. Had she cried alone? Without him knowing?

That would make him a first-class bastard who deserved to have her walk out on him.

Yet another reason he needed out of this mess. Quickly. He should let Roger handle it from here. It would be easier on him and Brenna both.

Then why the hell was he on his way to Sonoma?

Because I want her. Brenna was like a bad habit he’d thought he’d kicked years ago, but one tiny taste was enough to awaken the craving. Last night had cleared the air a little about their past, and the papers he had on the seat next to him should take care of their present problem. If Brenna wasn’t holding a grudge, he planned to finish what they’d started last night.

As he made the turn onto Amante Verano property he was cautiously optimistic about the night ahead. But, like a junkie who knew his fix was just moments away, the craving intensified as he parked next to Brenna’s Jeep.

The low hum of the television greeted him as he opened the door, and he saw Brenna on the couch, her long legs stretched out across the cushions. A magazine lay open on her lap; her face was serious as she read. She toyed with a lock of hair that had escaped the loose twist on the back of her head, more relaxed than he’d seen her in a long time. The image disappeared, though, when she heard his steps on the marble floor and the thud of his briefcase landing on the table. Startled, she turned to find the source of the noise, and the magazine slid to the floor.

“Jack! I—I—didn’t realize you’d be back tonight.” She pushed a button on the remote and the TV went black.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all. I’ve already told you you’re welcome here.” Brenna sounded friendly enough, but he still approached with caution, picking the magazine up off the floor and handing it back to her. It was a wine magazine. No surprise there.

“Interesting reading?”

“Very much so.” She grinned at him and his stomach tightened a bit. “There’s a fascinating article on cap management regimes, if you are looking for some light reading.”

Bren wasn’t poised for attack; in fact he almost believed her attitude was genuine. Was she looking for a ceasefire as well? That would make this evening—and all his plans—much easier. “I’ll pass, thanks.” He took the chair opposite the couch and noticed the glass on the table between them. No stem. Straight sides. A dark amber liquid with a small film of white bubbles across the surface. “Is that a beer?”

Brenna laughed. “Yes, it’s beer. Dianne and I went to town this afternoon, and I was able to replenish the supplies. Help yourself. There’s actual food in there, too, if you’re hungry,” she called at his back as he headed to the fridge.

Brenna’s amazing attitude adjustment seemed too good to be true. His optimism grew.

“A beer is all I need. It’s been a hell of a day.” He twisted off the cap and held the bottle by the neck as he slid the new agreement out of his briefcase.

“Sorry to hear that. Something wrong at the office?”

Her attempt at small talk brought a smile to his face, and it was tempting to just take his beer back to the living room for the simple, normal activity of human company and conversation after a long day. But that would only be a stalling tactic, and he wanted to get business out of the way first.

Brenna still wore her open, friendly look as he returned to the living room, but it faded as she saw the papers in his hand. Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not signing that.”

“You should really read it before you decide.” He handed it to her and reclaimed his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him and drinking from the bottle as she flipped through the pages.

“This looks like it could take a while. How about you give me the abridged version instead?” She reached for her own glass, placing the papers on the table and leaving them there as she settled back against the cushions and looked at him expectantly.

“All right. Short version it is. This gives you an additional twenty-five percent share in the business.” Her eyebrows went up. “Free and clear,” he assured her. “That gives you a majority stake, no matter what happens. In return, you agree to the sale of my remaining twenty-five percent to Garrett Properties, and the company will back you as a silent partner for the next year. At the end of that year you agree to allow the company to sell its interest to whatever buyer it finds—you, of course, will have the right of first refusal at that time, but you cannot block the sale.”

“You’d give me another twenty-five percent?” She sounded as if she was waiting for the trap to snap shut. She picked up the papers and began scanning, obviously looking for the catch. “Why?”

Roger had asked him the same question, so he recycled his answer. “Consider it part of your divorce settlement. Half of my half.”

“But I didn’t get a divorce settlement. We weren’t married long enough.”

“Then this gives me the opportunity to rectify that lack.” Brenna shot him a distrusting look. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s a gift. No strings beyond what I’ve already said.”

She flipped through a few more pages before placing them back on the table. Picking her glass up again, she stared at the liquid, her eyebrows knitting together as she thought. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head, but he had no idea what conclusions she was drawing.

“I know it’s not what you want, but it’s the best I can do for you, Bren.”

She nodded and drummed her nails on the side of the glass. Then she swallowed hard and lifted her brown eyes to his. “I know it is. And it seems more than fair.”

Chapter Six

BRENNA’S throat felt tight. It was very fair. More than she could have hoped for, actually. Jack looked shocked. What had he expected? It wasn’t as if she had much room to bargain. In fact she was shocked he’d been so accommodating. He could have just continued to hound her until she gave in. Because, though she hadn’t admitted it to anyone, deep down she’d known she would have eventually buckled under the pressure.

“You agree to those terms?” Jack seemed a little surprised at her easy acceptance.

She nodded and drank deeply from her glass, hoping the beer would loosen the constriction around her vocal cords. It didn’t.

Jack sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach. “I’m glad to hear it. There’s no sense dragging this out endlessly.”

He was being mighty friendly for someone who’d gone ten rounds with her the night before. And this offer, coming out of nowhere like a gift from the gods…What was the catch? Stealth maneuvers and shady business weren’t Jack’s style at all, though. Maybe there wasn’t a catch. “I agree. I assume, though, you won’t object if I have my attorney read this before I sign.”

“Don’t you trust me?” His lips twitched in amusement.

She snorted. “Based on what? Our long, happy history?”

Jack tilted his head, acknowledging the truth to her statement, and shrugged.

“What’s the saying? ‘Trust, yet verify’? I think on something this important, I should be sure I know exactly what I’m signing.”

“That’s a sound plan, Bren. But since there’s no trapdoors to worry about, I look forward to hearing from your lawyer sometime next week.” He raised his bottle in a small toast. “To equitable solutions.”

“I’ll drink to that.” She drained her glass with the toast. Oddly enough, the knots of tension in her stomach finally released a little. After being tied up for so long, the relief felt alien.

Although she did fully intend to go over that agreement with a microscope to be sure, she realized she trusted Jack enough to believe it said what he claimed. She was just glad to have the end of this nightmare in sight.

And it felt really good, even if her hands were still shaking from making a stand.

Jack turned up his bottle and drained it as well. “Another?” he asked as he stood and crossed behind her to the kitchen.