A Taste Of Desire

“Well, we come in all shapes and sizes.”

“And genders.”

“Don’t tell me you have a problem with me being a woman.”

“Of course not. It’s just that you came with such high recommendations that I was expecting a man.”

Ooooh, another zinger. It was difficult, but she held her temper. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. But I think you’ll find that I can be as unfeeling and greedy as any man, especially when it serves my clients.”

Destin’s lips twitched. “Oh, I’m not disappointed.”

At the table, Elliott moved Thereza’s chair back and helped her get seated. Which left Destin to assist Nicole. He smoothly slid her chair forward when she sat, and Nicole glanced at him over her shoulder. No mockery or amusement seemed present in his face.

“Merci,” she murmured.

“À tout moment.” Anytime.

Elliot requested a bottle of wine, and sent for a flurry of hors d’oeuvres. Their drinks were on the table in seconds, and the small plates of bite-sized appetizers followed promptly.

Surprise must have registered across her face because Elliot leaned over to her with a grin and said, “They know us here. Saúde.” They all clinked glasses, looking into each other’s eyes—no one wanted seven years of bad sex, even if it was an urban legend.

Destin’s look was intense when he touched his glass to hers. She took a deep breath, thinking there was probably no such thing as bad sex with him.

Where had that thought come from?

Nicole wrenched her gaze from his. She gave her wine a swirl then inhaled before tasting.

“Wow,” Nicole said after her first sip. “That’s exceptional.”

“It is,” Elliott said, his attention shifting to his brother. Destin lowered his whiskey and his eyes.

“A Cab Franc. It’s yours, isn’t it? A Dechamps?” she asked Elliot.

“It’s our father’s, yes,” Destin answered.

Nicole caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. Regret, maybe? But after another sip of his drink, whatever sadness she’d seen disappeared.

“Hmm. Chili pepper, strawberry, tobacco, licorice.” She tapped her tongue on the top of her mouth and sucked in a slow breath. “Leather?” Elliot’s eyes widened. “Basil and dark oak from extremely aged barrels. Very earthy.”

“Is she right?” Elliot asked his brother excitedly.

Destin was half grinning and studying her as if he’d seen an alien. He glanced at Elliot and slowly nodded.

“How did you do that?” Destin asked Nicole.

“I have a really sensitive palate.”

“A supertaster?” Destin asked, astonishment in his tone.

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded shyly.

“Very interesting,” Elliot chimed in.

“Not really. It’s a nice party trick, but mostly it makes me a picky eater. Things smell so good and don’t always carry through on the taste. It annoys my friends.” The brothers laughed, which was the intention, but her mutant taste buds had caused more harm than good when she was a child, especially when her father took over the cooking after her mother passed. If it hadn’t been for Cheerios, she wasn’t sure she would have survived middle school.

“And your boyfriend? What does he think?” asked Destin.

Was he mocking her again? If he hadn’t noticed, his girlfriend had been texting ever since the drinks arrived. Nicole might be single, but at least she had standards.

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment. So I have all the time in the world to dedicate to the both of you.”

“Cheers to that,” Destin said. He drained his whiskey and poured himself a glass of the Cab Franc.

Elliot narrowed his eyes and cocked his head at his brother, then turned to her. “I must say, I had no idea you’d be so beautiful in person.”

Warning bells chimed in Nicole’s head at the offhand comment. Even Destin frowned. Ever the professional, Nicole gave him a practiced smile, still unsure if he was flirting or just being very French.

“Merci. For the compliment and the opportunity to let me facilitate your sale. I understand the land has been untouched for quite some time. Are you certain it can’t be salvaged?” she asked softly. Elliot froze, and he gazed across the table. She turned to Destin, who was fingering the stem of his glass, and spoke carefully. “I hope you don’t think I’m being insensitive to your family tragedy. I’m so sorry for your loss and want you to know that our company has many resources that could help you rebuild. I would be remiss if I didn’t present all of the options.”

Destin seemed far away for a moment. Then he held his glass up to the lit candle in the middle of their table and studied the dark burgundy liquid. His gaze flicked to her over the rim.

“Wine making is an art, and in France it’s about timing. The seasons determine when the grapes ripen and when to harvest. But in Brazil, there are three hundred days of sunshine. The vines never stop producing, and harvesting can happen at any time. That’s why Elliot and I came here to make our mark.” More food arrived and Destin paused, pushing a few of the plates toward Nicole. “Please, eat. Let’s see what your palate can handle.” His smile was genuine, and she couldn’t help but grin back. She started in on the spiced churrasco and the smoked octopus.

Destin watched her take a bite, then raised one brow in a silent question. How is it? She licked her lips and grinned in answer. Her smile slowly fell when he turned to Thereza, who began to eat one of the pork ribs with her fingers. Nicole almost felt bad for her. Her minimal English meant she couldn’t follow the conversation. In between texts, the blonde had flipped her hair and flashed her eyes, anything to get Destin to look her way.

He’d been polite, offering her wine and food, making sure she was comfortable, but Nicole could tell this was a one-sided love match. Destin wasn’t into Thereza, which provided Nicole with some inexplicable inner satisfaction.

She had to ask herself why she cared.

“Brazil is an exciting country,” Elliot said, interrupting her thoughts. “But it can be a savage and lawless place. Young boys can get into a lot of trouble here.” Elliot smirked, as if he indulged in trouble frequently. “Our winery was successful for a time, maybe too successful. Someone broke in and knocked a lit oil lamp over. The fire took everything.”

“That’s awful,” she said cautiously, her gaze going back and forth between the men.

Destin didn’t look up; instead, he ran his hand back and forth over the white tablecloth. “The irrigation pipes were ruined, and the soil is no longer suitable. And, of course, our production facilities were destroyed. Rebuilding would be a waste of time and money,” he said, trailing off into a whisper.

Nicole swallowed back her own memories of losing close family members. Her mother had been the first to go, her degenerative heart condition taking her when Nicole was only ten. Then her father’s constant drinking and liver cirrhosis took him not long after. By the time Nicole was twelve, the only relative she had left was her grandmother.

Nicole recognized that this man was still in pain. She pushed the octopus plate his way, but he shook his head and smiled at her in gratitude.

He had a nice mouth, she thought. And his eyes seemed to glitter.

“Well, I’ve brought inquiries from several prospective buyers with me that we can discuss. They seem to agree that there is a lot of opportunity in Brazil. There is an oil tycoon who...”

Destin rose suddenly. “I think I should take Thereza home. Please, continue without us.”

Elliot rose. “You’re sure you can’t stay?” His gaze flicked to Nicole, then back to his brother.

“No. Unfortunately,” Destin murmured.