you thinking of deserting the field, Ty?"
His gaze lifted, and she saw the steel in his eyes. Hard and cold. "I've run MacMillan for eight years. I'm not walking away from it."
No, he wouldn't muck it up. "Okay. Let's start from there. You want what you want, I want what I want. How do we get it?" She pushed to her feet, paced. "Easier for you."
"Why is that?"
"I essentially give up my apartment and move back home. You get to stay right where you are. I have to take a crash course in winemaking, and all you have to do is socialize and go to a few meetings now and then."
"You think that's easier? Socializing involves people. I don't like people. And while I'm going to meetings about things I don't give a rat's ass about, some guy I don't even know is going to be looking over my shoulder."
"Mine, too," she snapped back. "Who the hell is this David Cutter?"
"A suit," Ty said in disgust.
"More than that," Sophia murmured. If she'd believed that, she wouldn't have been concerned. She knew how to handle suits. "We'll just have to find out how much more." That was something she could take care of very shortly, and very thoroughly. "And we're going to have to find a way to work with him, and each other. The last part shouldn't be that hard. We've known each other for years."
She was moving fast where he preferred to pace himself. But damned if he wasn't going to keep up. "No, we haven't. I don't know you, or what you do or why you do it."
She put her palms on the table, leaned forward. Her magnificent face moved close to his. "Sophia Tereza Maria Giambelli. I market wine. And I do it because I'm good at it. And in one year, I'm going to own twenty percent of one of the biggest, most successful and important wine companies in the world."
He rose slowly, mimicked her pose. "You're going to have to be good at it, and a lot more for that. You're going to have to get your hands dirty, and get mud on your designer boots and ruin your pretty manicure."
"Do you think I don't know how to work, MacMillan?"
"I think you know how to sit behind a desk or on a first-class seat on a plane. That superior ass of yours isn't going to find life so cozy for the next year. Giambelli."
She saw the red haze at the edges of her vision, a sure sign temper was taking over and she was about to do something foolish. "Side bet. Five thousand dollars says I'm a better winemaker than you are executive at the end of the season."
"Who decides?"
"Neutral party. David Cutter."
"Done." He reached over and gripped her slim hand in his big, hard one. "Buy yourself some rough clothes and some boots that were made for work instead of fashion. Be ready to start your first lesson tomorrow, seven A.M."
"Fine." She set her teeth. "We'll break at noon, head down to the city for your first lesson. You can take an hour out to buy some decent suits that have been tailored in the last decade."
"You're supposed to move here. Why do we have to go to the city?"
"Because I need a number of things in my office, and you need to be familiarized with the routine there. I also need things from my apartment. You've got a strong back and your ass isn't bad, either," she added, smiling thinly. "You can help me move."
"I've got something to say."
"Well, goodness. Let me prepare myself."
"I don't like your mouth. Never did." He jammed his hands in his pockets because when she smirked, as she was doing now, he really just wanted to pop her one. "But I've got nothing against you."
"Oh, Ty. That's so… touching."
"Look, just shut up." He dragged a hand through his hair, jammed it back in his pocket. "You do what you do because you're good at it. I do what I do because I love it. It's all I've ever wanted to do. I got nothing against you, Sophia, but if it looks like you're going to cost me my vines, I'll cut you out."
Intrigued, and challenged, she studied him from a new angle. Who'd have thought the boy next door could be ruthless? "All right, so warned. And same goes,
His gaze lifted, and she saw the steel in his eyes. Hard and cold. "I've run MacMillan for eight years. I'm not walking away from it."
No, he wouldn't muck it up. "Okay. Let's start from there. You want what you want, I want what I want. How do we get it?" She pushed to her feet, paced. "Easier for you."
"Why is that?"
"I essentially give up my apartment and move back home. You get to stay right where you are. I have to take a crash course in winemaking, and all you have to do is socialize and go to a few meetings now and then."
"You think that's easier? Socializing involves people. I don't like people. And while I'm going to meetings about things I don't give a rat's ass about, some guy I don't even know is going to be looking over my shoulder."
"Mine, too," she snapped back. "Who the hell is this David Cutter?"
"A suit," Ty said in disgust.
"More than that," Sophia murmured. If she'd believed that, she wouldn't have been concerned. She knew how to handle suits. "We'll just have to find out how much more." That was something she could take care of very shortly, and very thoroughly. "And we're going to have to find a way to work with him, and each other. The last part shouldn't be that hard. We've known each other for years."
She was moving fast where he preferred to pace himself. But damned if he wasn't going to keep up. "No, we haven't. I don't know you, or what you do or why you do it."
She put her palms on the table, leaned forward. Her magnificent face moved close to his. "Sophia Tereza Maria Giambelli. I market wine. And I do it because I'm good at it. And in one year, I'm going to own twenty percent of one of the biggest, most successful and important wine companies in the world."
He rose slowly, mimicked her pose. "You're going to have to be good at it, and a lot more for that. You're going to have to get your hands dirty, and get mud on your designer boots and ruin your pretty manicure."
"Do you think I don't know how to work, MacMillan?"
"I think you know how to sit behind a desk or on a first-class seat on a plane. That superior ass of yours isn't going to find life so cozy for the next year. Giambelli."
She saw the red haze at the edges of her vision, a sure sign temper was taking over and she was about to do something foolish. "Side bet. Five thousand dollars says I'm a better winemaker than you are executive at the end of the season."
"Who decides?"
"Neutral party. David Cutter."
"Done." He reached over and gripped her slim hand in his big, hard one. "Buy yourself some rough clothes and some boots that were made for work instead of fashion. Be ready to start your first lesson tomorrow, seven A.M."
"Fine." She set her teeth. "We'll break at noon, head down to the city for your first lesson. You can take an hour out to buy some decent suits that have been tailored in the last decade."
"You're supposed to move here. Why do we have to go to the city?"
"Because I need a number of things in my office, and you need to be familiarized with the routine there. I also need things from my apartment. You've got a strong back and your ass isn't bad, either," she added, smiling thinly. "You can help me move."
"I've got something to say."
"Well, goodness. Let me prepare myself."
"I don't like your mouth. Never did." He jammed his hands in his pockets because when she smirked, as she was doing now, he really just wanted to pop her one. "But I've got nothing against you."
"Oh, Ty. That's so… touching."
"Look, just shut up." He dragged a hand through his hair, jammed it back in his pocket. "You do what you do because you're good at it. I do what I do because I love it. It's all I've ever wanted to do. I got nothing against you, Sophia, but if it looks like you're going to cost me my vines, I'll cut you out."
Intrigued, and challenged, she studied him from a new angle. Who'd have thought the boy next door could be ruthless? "All right, so warned. And same goes,
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