Red Wine and Her Sexy Ex

‘Exactly. And I could run my life the way I wanted it to be. I wasn’t being pushed around and told what to do by someone else all the time, however well meaning they were.’ She looked relieved. ‘Thank you for understanding.’

He blew out a breath. ‘No, you were right in the first place. I still don’t understand. Surely your family always come first?’ It was what he’d always believed. The way his family—with the notable exception of his mother—had always done things. If there was a problem, you worked together to fix it.

‘I didn’t say it was logical.’ She looked away. ‘There were other reasons why I didn’t want to come back to France.’

‘Me?’ He really hadn’t meant to say it, but the word just slipped out.

‘You,’ she confirmed.

Well, at least it was out in the open now. They could stop pussyfooting round the issue.

She clearly thought the same, because she said, ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t be here.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘I’ve been Harry’s business partner since Papa died. Surely you knew that?’

A muscle flickered in her jaw. ‘We never discussed you.’

Was she saying that her falling-out with Harry had been over him? But he couldn’t see why. It was pretty clear-cut: she’d been the one to call a halt to their affair, not him. And Xavier couldn’t imagine Harry breaking Jean-Paul’s confidence and telling Allegra what had been going on here—about the problems with the business and Chantal’s desertion. Had Harry perhaps counselled her to give Xavier some space and time, and she’d reacted badly because she felt he was trying to push her around, the way she’d been pushed around as a child?

But he needed to know the answer to the most pressing question first. ‘Why are you here now, Allegra?’

‘Because I owe it to Harry. And don’t waste your energy giving me a hard time over missing his funeral. It wasn’t intentional and I feel guilty enough about it.’

‘I don’t have the right to judge you for that,’ Xavier said quietly, ‘but Harry was my friend as well as my business partner, and I think he deserved better.’

‘I know he did.’ Colour stained her cheeks.

‘Surely your business wasn’t that urgent? Why didn’t you tell your boss or your business contact that you had a family commitment?’

‘I did. The client couldn’t move the meeting.’

‘Couldn’t someone else have gone in your place?’

‘According to my boss, no.’ Her tone was dry, and Xavier had a feeling that there was more to this—something she wasn’t telling him. ‘I did my best to wrap everything up as quickly as I could, but the meeting overran and I missed my flight.’

‘And that was the only flight to Avignon?’ he asked. As excuses went, that was a little too pat for his liking. Too convenient.

‘Nice, actually,’ she corrected. ‘It was the only flight to France from New York without a stopover, until the next day. The reservations clerk spent an hour on the computer, trying to find me a flight that would get me somewhere on French soil at some time before breakfast, French time.’ She spread her hands. ‘But there simply wasn’t one. Not even to Paris.’

‘Your parents didn’t turn up, either.’

‘I know. They were in Tokyo. Coming to the funeral would’ve meant missing a performance. You know what they’re like.’ She lifted her chin. ‘And, yes, you could say I fell into the same trap. I put business before family, and I shouldn’t have done.’

‘At least you admit it was a mistake.’ He paused. ‘So, where do you suggest we go from here?’

‘You trusted Harry’s business judgement, yes?’

Xavier inclined his head.

‘And Harry trusted me to take over from him, or he wouldn’t have left me his part of the business.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘So are you going to do the same?’

Tricky. He didn’t trust his judgement at all, where she was concerned. And trusting her was one hell of an ask. He took refuge in answering a question with a question. ‘What do you know about making wine?’

‘Right now? Very little,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m a fast learner. I’ll put in the hours until I know enough to be useful. In the meantime, maybe I can be useful in another part of the business.’

‘Such as?’

‘As I told you yesterday—marketing. I was Acting Head of Creative at the agency where I worked. I can put an effective promotional campaign together on a shoestring budget. Though I’ll need some information from you before I can analyse how things are done now and where I can make a difference.’

‘What kind of information?’ he asked warily.

‘The business plan for the next five years. I need to know what we produce, how much we sell it for, who our main customers are and how we get the wine to them.’ She ticked them off on her fingers. ‘I also need to know who our main competitors are and what they produce. And what kind of marketing campaigns you’ve done in the past. I know the vineyard has a website, but I want to look at that and compare it with the kind of thing our main competitors produce. And then I’ll give you my analysis and recommendations.’

‘Strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, threats.’ He raised an eyebrow at her obvious surprise. ‘Do you think I don’t know what they are already?’

She looked deflated. And suddenly Xavier could see the vulnerability in her. On the surface, she was bright and polished and professional. But underneath she was as fragile as hell.

He could break her right now and make her sell her half of the vineyard to him.

But he’d hate himself for doing it. And, weirdly, he suddenly found himself wanting to protect her. How ironic was that? She’d broken his heart, and he still wanted to protect her; even though he couldn’t protect himself from her. ‘So are you telling me you’re planning to run half a vineyard from London?’

‘No. From here.’

She was planning to live here? So he’d have to see her every single day? Dieu—that would take some coping with. While she’d been in another country, he’d been able to push any thoughts of her to the back of his mind. But living next door to her, working with her…that would be a completely different matter.

And something didn’t quite add up. ‘Two minutes ago you were telling me that your roots were in London.’

‘They are.’ She sighed. ‘I didn’t say this was rational, Xav. It’s just how it is. I want to step into Harry’s shoes. As you just suggested, I can’t do that from London. And the Ardèche was home to me in the summer, many years ago. I can settle here.’

Ten years too late. He’d wanted her here, by his side, back then. As his wife. Now, he’d be a lot happier if she flounced back to London and left him alone.

‘What about your job?’

‘Ex,’ she said succinctly.

‘Since when?’

‘I resigned yesterday. After my meeting with my lawyer.’

So she was using the vineyard as some kind of getout? In some respects, Xavier knew he could relax because it meant she wasn’t planning to sell the land to someone else; but, in other respects, her statement made him even more tense. Was that how she reacted to pressure—by walking out and launching herself into something else? So what would happen if the going got tough here? Would she bail out, the way his mother had bailed out on his father? ‘What about your notice period?’

‘In my profession, you can do too much damage if you stay. If you decide to leave, you leave there and then.’ She shrugged. ‘My assistant’s clearing my desk for me and I’ll pick up my personal effects later.’

‘Bit of a spur-of-the-moment decision, isn’t it? How do you know this is going to work out?’

‘Because I’m going to make it work out.’

Stubborn and determined: both were points in her favour. In this job, she’d need them. But he still couldn’t believe that she’d stick to this. ‘Running a vineyard isn’t a nine-to-five job,’ he warned. ‘There are times when we all need to muck in and work on the vines—and what you’re wearing right now is completely impractical for working in the fields. Your clothes will be shredded and your shoes—well, you’ll turn your ankle or get blisters. And then there’s the risk of sunstroke.’