Biding Her Time

“I don’t think your question about Shane’s occupation was ever properly answered, was it, Audrey?”

With a hint of good humor, Jenna pulled Audrey out of her reverie. The confounding redhead looked up and shook her head. “He’s not an undertaker?” she muttered.

Jenna arched a brow that made Audrey obediently apply herself to her meal as her employer continued. “This delicious wine we’re drinking is a sample of Shane’s work. He’s here to introduce his vineyard to the United States.”

Not exactly “his” vineyard—Cambria was owned by Hilary and her grandparents—but he supposed that was close enough under the circumstances. They had offered to make him a full partner.

“Shane will be attending several wine exhibits,” Jenna told the table at large. “What you don’t know is that he asked me to help him find an assistant to work in his booth. Wine exhibits require a minimum of two people per booth.” She pulsed with energy as she smiled at her audience. “I’ve been doing my research. One person to serve and one to answer questions and keep track of the guest book. A sole proprietor at the booth also detracts from the cache of the winery. I know it’s terribly superficial, but appearances really do count. It would have been difficult for Shane to interview and hire the perfect person all the way from Australia, which is why—” she raised her glass, the wine glowing from the lights of the crystal chandelier above their heads and the sunlight filtering through the curtained doors “—I’ve arranged everything. I think it’s best to have one assistant at all times, in New York, Boston and Montreal. The same assistant for the sake of continuity, and won’t it be pleasant to have a traveling companion? I love to travel with someone.”

Shane swallowed his asparagus. “You found a booth bunny?”

He was about to thank his aunt profusely when Melanie asked across the table—

“What’s a booth bunny?”

He smiled, a bit sheepishly. He’d heard the term several times since his first forays into the wine business and took for granted it was used in America. Though it was likely an affront to feminists everywhere, the people who greeted and handed out wine to potential customers at these affairs were typically young women with sparkling personalities, knockout figures and very short dresses. He opened his mouth to explain, but heard a snort and someone else’s voice answering in his stead.

“Booth bunnies are an attempt to sell a product by titillating the consumer instead of employing genuine marketing savvy or, heaven forbid, allowing the product to speak for itself.” Audrey sliced the tip off an asparagus spear. “I took a marketing class called ‘Sex Sells’ at the J.C. It happens in all kinds of industries, of course, but it does seem particularly obnoxious when the product’s value lies in a consumer’s ability to discern subtleties. Nothing subtle about a booth bunny. Short skirt, big hair and a brain the size of a cork.”

Emitting a snort of laughter, she popped the asparagus into her mouth and chewed. It took a moment before she realized she might have offended someone.

“Uhm, nothing personal against the girl you hired, Jenna. I just mean it’s a screwy way to approach business.” Another pause and she mumbled a sort-of apology to Shane. “Not that I mean you’re screwy.”

Of course not.

Shane harpooned a piece of salmon and stuck it in his mouth so he wouldn’t be able to point out that the stick up Audrey’s back was a helluva lot stiffer than the one she’d accused him of having.

He bristled without knowing precisely why her criticism bothered him so much. God knew he’d been under stress lately. He could use encouraging words, not potshots, while he worked his ass off building a business that would be the most important thing he had ever done in his life.

“Who’d you find, Mom?” Melanie asked, interested in the booth-bunny concept and either oblivious to the tension between her cousin and her friend or simply untroubled by it. “And how did you know where to look? What did you do, advertise?”

Shane noticed Jenna splitting her concerned glance between him and Audrey. “Why would I do that,” she murmured, taking another sip of wine, “when I had a perfectly good candidate right under my nose?”

A large forkful of finely poached salmon had just gone into Shane’s mouth when Thomas barked, “Who?”

Jenna smiled at Audrey over the rim of her glass, and every head turned toward the tomboyish redhead.

No! Shane thought, his gag reflex kicking in already. He’d explained the importance of these shows to his aunt. He was spending nearly the entirety of his personal savings on this trip. Audrey’s derogatory comments aside, he could not imagine anyone—honestly, not a single woman of his acquaintance—less suited to a job for which she had to be unstintingly polite, charming and feminine than Audrey Griffin. Jenna couldn’t mean—

“I think Audrey will make an outstanding booth assistant, don’t you?” Jenna met each person’s eyes briefly, smiling brilliantly and arching a brow as if daring anyone to disagree.

In that moment, Shane couldn’t possibly have disagreed. He was too busy choking.

“Salmon bone,” he managed to gasp, thumping his chest as Jenna, looking alarmed, rose from her chair. Across the table, Thomas rose also and took a step in Shane’s direction. He tried to wave the help away. “I’m fine now.”

They weren’t listening.

Coughing into his napkin, he waved them off again, then realized that Melanie, too, had stood, her eyes round with panic. He followed her gaze.

It was Audrey who needed help.

Swearing, Shane leaped from his chair, shoving his aunt and uncle aside with an unfortunate lack of courtesy to get to her.

Grasping Audrey’s shoulders, he turned her so that he could look fully into her face, now splotched a deep red.

“Are you choking?” he shouted into her face, making the international choking sign and waiting for her to mimic him before he commenced the Heimlich maneuver.

Instead of placing her hands at her neckline, she looked at him in panic and immediately reached for his neck, squeezing hard and nodding furiously.

“Let… go…” he commanded, prizing her hands off and turning her so he could wrap his arms around her with his fist under her sternum. He administered two swift upward pushes.

Nothing happened. Whatever had lodged in her airway had yet to budge.

Shane could feel Audrey’s heart thundering like a dozen hooves and knew his was keeping pace.

“Come on, baby, give it up,” he whispered in her ear right before he gave her diaphragm a shove that pulled her right off her feet.

Out flew a piece of grilled asparagus.

Impressed and enormously relieved, Shane released a breath and nodded. “Nicely done.”

Chapter Five

Audrey coughed maniacally as she tried to catch her breath.

Shane’s stone-solid arms were still wrapped around her. His murmured words tickled her ear.

Jenna was holding out a glass of water and looking worried. Thomas had his hand up, ready to thump her on the back should the need arise again, and Melanie had come around the table, an acutely sympathetic expression on her attractive face and a napkin in her hand. They all stood so close, Shane wouldn’t have been able to back away if he wanted to.

Gently but firmly removing Shane’s hands, still splayed across her stomach, Audrey accepted the napkin from Melanie, the water from Jenna and smiled to let Thomas know she was fine.

Then she eased away from Shane. He had saved her life. Too bad he, too, had almost choked upon hearing Jenna’s plan. Kinda implied she was not a cute, charming girl, which put a big fat chink in her undying gratitude.

Involuntarily, Audrey’s right hand covered her left. Somehow the Heimlich maneuver had made less of an impact than his squeezing her hand several moments ago. That had been earth-shattering.

Even now, she felt a swell of emotion that had nothing to do with the fact that she’d almost choked. That firm-yet-gentle, reassuring squeeze he’d applied to her hand was her undoing. She knew he’d meant it impersonally, but tears had risen to her eyes nonetheless. For a moment, just as she had last night, she’d felt… seen. Seen by Shane the way she hadn’t felt seen by anyone in a long while.

And once again, she became aware of a place inside her that seemed comprised solely of painful raw need. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could escape from the table and from her own feelings.

Humiliating, sentimental—

“Crap! You almost killed my best farrier, honey pie.” Thomas lightened the awkward moment-after-near-death with a robust but humorous rebuke sent Jenna’s way. “I nearly choked, too! Audrey can’t go gallivanting around the world handing out wine samples. I need her here.” He shot Audrey a paternal smile.

“She won’t be gallivanting around the world.” With a last glance at Audrey, Jenna returned to her seat and picked up the napkin she’d tossed next to her plate. “She’ll travel to New York, Boston and Montreal. And she won’t merely be ‘handing out wine samples,’ Thomas. She’ll meet and converse with people from many walks of life.” Reaching for her wine, she spoke into the glass. “People whose interests extend beyond horses and racing.”

Before he or Melanie could protest that people interested in horses and racing were the most interesting people in the world, Jenna insisted, “It would be good for her to get out and see something besides the inside of a stable.”

Thomas’s brows swooped down at the blasphemy.