Brenna chuckled. “I suppose a phone call to the hacienda would cause problems for both of us. My cell number is on the proposal. If you don’t get me, you can leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

“Fair enough.”

She clutched her hands together. “Nic, I know it’s a lot of money and that this is a risk for you, but I can do this. If you take a chance, you won’t be sorry.”

“I won’t do it if there’s a chance I will be.”

Her excitement didn’t flicker. “You’re going to be impressed. I promise.”

He had a feeling she was right. Besides, one of his rules in life was to take advantage of every unexpected opportunity. If he agreed, he would insist on keeping close tabs on what she was doing, which was the same as keeping close tabs on Brenna herself. Being close to her had only ever led to one thing.

So money wasn’t the only risk. Was that good or bad?

He didn’t have an answer, but he knew time spent with Brenna wouldn’t be boring. Once again, they could be entering dangerous territory. The difference was this time he would be the one calling the shots.

Brenna drove back to the Marcelli winery, taking the long way around so she drove past the ocean. She rolled down the windows of her ancient Camry and let the warm salty air brush over her skin. Her suit jacket and high heels lay where she’d tossed them on the passenger seat. She had the radio cranked up and sang along with an old Beach Boys tune, delighting in the fact that although they’d been years and years before her time, she knew all the words.

At this moment she felt free and wild and happy and so excited, she probably could have taken flight, if not for the seat belt anchoring her. She leaned her head back and laughed out loud at the sheer pleasure pumping through her.

She’d done it. She’d done it!

Oh, sure, Nic hadn’t said yes, not yet. But somehow down in her gut she just knew he was going to. He’d been willing to listen, something no one else had done, and listening was all she needed. Her carefully thought-out proposal was going to blow his socks off. Maybe even his pants.