Wed on His Terms: Million-Dollar Marriage Merger

He grinned. “I think I’m there now.” He gobbled up the apple wedges. “Thanks for lunch.”

Rena watched him carefully. “You’re welcome.”

“You need a new computer and some stuff for the office. This thing is outdated. We’ll work out a time to do that.”

Rena’s eyes widened. “A new computer? I, uh, we never could afford—”

“I know,” Tony said softly. “But now we can.”

“And you need me for that?”

“Yes, I need your input. Look, we can drive into the next town if you’d feel more comfortable, but—”

“I would.” She offered without hesitation.

Tony’s ego took a nosedive. He’d promised her a secret marriage and he’d stick to it, but he wasn’t accustomed to women not wanting to be seen with him. Usually, it was just the opposite—women enjoyed being seen around town with him.

Irritated now, he agreed. “Fine.”

“So what are your plans?” She stood and picked up his empty plate.

“I loaded the info to a flash drive. I’m going to have Joe take a look at everything. Though I have my suspicions, I need his opinion.”

“You’re going home tonight?”

Her hope-filled voice only irritated him some more. With legs spread, he reached out and pulled her between them, the plate separating their bodies. “Yeah, but I’ll be back.” He kissed her soundly on the lips reminding her of the steamy way they’d made love early this morning. He nuzzled her neck, and the devil in him added with a low rasp, “I have more inputting to do.”

Rena’s eyes snapped up to his.

He smiled and then released her.

He’d told her no more tiptoeing around and he’d meant it.

Eight (#ulink_a70f2a67-1de8-5666-9d8d-a48c1146e88d)

Tony entered the Carlino offices, a two-story building set in the heart of Napa Valley. The older outer structure gave way to a modern, innovative inner office filled with leather and marble. The mortar and stone building had been classified as a ghost winery, once owned by an aging retired sea captain who had run the place in the 1890s until Prohibition put him out of business, along with nearly seven hundred other wineries in the area. While some wineries had been turned into estates and restaurants, some held true to their original destiny, haunted not by ghostly spirits but by the passage of time and ruin.

The place had lain dormant and in a state of wreckage until Santo Carlino purchased the property then renovated it into their office space.

Tony walked into the reception area and was greeted by a stunningly gorgeous redhead. “Hi, you must be Tony Carlino.” The woman—her cleavage nearly spilling out of her top—lifted up from her desk to shake his hand. “Joe said you’d be stopping by. I’m Alicia Pendrake, but you can call me Ali.”

“Hi, Ali.” He grasped her hand and shook.

“I’m Joe’s new personal assistant. Today’s my second day on the job.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tony said, curious why Joe didn’t mention hiring anyone new when they spoke, especially one who looked like an overly buxom supermodel, with rich auburn curls draping over her shoulders, wearing a sleek outfit and knee-high boots.

She pointed to the main office door. “He’s inside, crunching numbers, what else?”

Tony chuckled. The woman was a spitfire. “Okay, thanks.”

“Nice meeting you, Mr. Carlino.”

“It’s Tony.”

“Okay, Tony.” She granted him a pleased smile that sent his male antenna up.

He found Joe seated behind his desk, staring at the computer screen. He made sure to close the door behind him. “Whoa … where did you find her?”

“Find who?” Joe said, his attention focused on the computer.

“Alicia … Ali. Your new PA.”

Joe’s brows furrowed and he took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “I met her in New York last year. She’s efficient and capable.”

“I bet. What happened to Maggie?”

“I had to let her go. She wasn’t doing her job. This place was in chaos when I got here. I remembered Ali, and I called her. Offered to pay her way out here, gave her an advance on her salary to get set up. I didn’t think she’d take the job.”

“But she did. Just like that?”

“Yeah, I got lucky.”

“You got lucky? Joe, the woman is beyond gorgeous. Haven’t you noticed?”

Joe rubbed his jaw. “She’s attractive, I suppose.”

“You suppose? Maybe you need better glasses.”

“My glasses are fine. I’m not interested, Tone. You know that I’ve sworn off women. After what happened with Sheila, I’m basically immune to beautiful women … to all women actually. Ali is smart. She’s dedicated, and she does her work without complaint. She’s very organized. You know how I am about organization.”

Tony’s lips twitched. “Okay, if you say so.”

“So, what’s up? You said you needed a favor?”

Tony tossed the flash drive onto the desk. “I need you to compare these accounts from Purple Fields with ours, for the same dates. I’ve been going over Rena’s books. I just need your expert opinion.”

“How soon?”

“Today?”

“I can do that.” Joe inserted the flash drive into his computer. “I’ll upload the files and let you know what I find out.”

“Great, oh and can you burn them to a CD for me? There’s something else I want to check on.”

“Sure thing. I’ll do that first.” While Joe burned the information to a disk, Tony walked around the office, noting the subtle changes Joe had made to Santo Carlino’s office. Joe had secured even more high tech equipment than his father had used and updated the phone system. He was determined to make the company paperless, sooner rather than later.

It would seem that the only thing left from the older generation of the winery were the vast acres of vineyards—six hundred in all—the grapes that couldn’t be digitalized into growing faster and the wine itself.