Unfortunately, the reminder didn’t do a damn thing for the unexpected tension crawling through him. He tore his gaze away before he distracted himself with the wrong kind of memories.

“I’m not saying no,” he told her.

“You’re kidding!”

She sprang to her feet, which put her less than a foot in front of him. Close enough for him to see the various shades of gold and brown that made up her irises, and the tiny scar by the corner of her mouth. Close enough for her perfume to invade his personal space. The scent was different; his reaction to it was not. Long-forgotten heat awoke, stretched, and went searching for sustenance.

He ignored the temperature and the hunger. This was not the right time nor the place, and she was sure as hell not the right woman.

The thing was, he had a plan. Over the years he’d learned that a well-thought-out plan ensured that he always won. When the goal was revenge, it paid to be patient.

His instincts told him that Brenna’s loan request was as unexpected as a home run off the first pitch. All he had to do was toss down his bat and circle the bases. But he wanted to be sure.

“It’s a lot of money,” he said.

She nodded as her mouth curved in a smile. “I know. I’ve detailed every penny. It’s all going into the wine. I’m not taking a salary. Oh, Nic, the land I want to buy is just perfect for Pinot Noir. There’s a sweet valley at the base of a hill that gets just the right amount of midday sun. That, combined with the fog and the salt from the ocean, creates perfect grapes. You’ll see.”

Her enthusiasm was as tangible as the hand she put on his arm. He acknowledged the contact-and his reaction to it-by sliding away and picking up her portfolio.

“I’ll look this over in the next couple of days and get back to you.” He raised his eyebrows. “How exactly do I do that?”