In the Argentine's Bed / Secret Baby, Public Affair. Yvonne Lindsay
of the estate. Row upon row of leafy vines traced the gentle contours of the land, rising into the foothills of the majestic Andes. The lush growth gave no hint of the effort needed to tease productive plants from the relatively arid soil of the area.
“It’s a special place.”
The words drifted out of Susannah’s mouth without her really meaning to say them. The light had a strange quality that rather dazzled her. Bright but somehow soft.
Harsh, yet…loving.
Maybe all those hours of travel had addled her brain.
Amado stared across the rolling terrain. “Yes. It is a special place.” A frown gathered on his proud brow. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Susannah froze. It occurred to her that if Amado was not Ignacio’s son, he might lose his right to run the estate.
Suddenly the afternoon sunlight seemed blinding.
“How long has your family been here?”
“Forever.” He smiled. “Well, that’s how it feels. The first Alvarez came here in 1868 from Cádiz and married a local girl. We’ve been here ever since.”
“I can see why. It’s beautiful.”
The sun glinted off the snowcapped mountains. Vast and solid, they stretched almost to the end of the earth.
Susannah had never lived in one place for more than three years. She couldn’t even blame her missionary parents anymore. She’d moved about on her own as an adult.
“It’s changed a lot since then, of course, but we do our best to protect and care for the land.”
“Have you always grown grapes here?” She was careful to imply he was part of the Alvarez family.
“There’ve always been a few hundred vines, mostly for family consumption. Most of these—” he swept his arm across the acres and acres of rows “—have been planted in the last ten to fifteen years since I convinced my father to switch from beef to viniculture.”
The door behind them opened and a tiny, ancient woman, who made Clara look positively youthful by comparison, emerged carrying a tray with two glasses of wine and a plate with some pastries.
“Thank you, Rosa.” Amado took the tray and placed it on the stone wall that ringed the patio. Susannah smiled at Rosa—who returned her gesture with a flinty stare.
Gulp.
“The 2004 Malbec is one of our bestsellers. It’s won several awards and brought us international attention. See what you think.” He held out the glass. His dark eyes shone with anticipation that revealed his pride in his wine.
Susannah took it and admired the dark ruby color of the liquid against the white peaks and pale blue of the sky. She sniffed the bouquet—young, fruity—perhaps too much so for her taste. Then she sipped. A tiny taste, just enough to test the mouth-feel and waken her taste buds to the experience.
Amado hovered over her in silent expectation.
“Delicious.” No lie. It was bold and wonderful.
His lopsided grin revealed those even, white teeth as he raised his glass and sipped. “I agree. It’s okay to be proud of one’s own child, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.” She couldn’t help smiling. And sipping again. Enjoying the rich warm flavor of the sunbaked soil and the well-irrigated grapes grown in this stunning landscape. “How many cases do you have available for purchase?”
He threw back his head and laughed, giving her a lingering vision of his bronzed neck, muscles flexed, under the creamy-white collar of his shirt. “Getting down to business so soon? I’ve heard that you Americans don’t like to waste time. They weren’t kidding.”
Susannah blinked. Was her professional interest in the wine somehow inappropriate under the circumstances?
She was sure Tarrant would want this for Moon, the five-star restaurant atop his Manhattan retail palace. It would be excellent with the chef’s famous osso buco, and with the boeuf en croute. “Are you not interested in selling?”
“Of course I’m interested. Selling wine is my business.” His expression suggested he found the whole subject vastly amusing.
“Then, why are you laughing at me?” She hated how defensive she sounded.
“You’re so serious.” He lifted the plate. “Try some of Rosa’s alfajores.”
She picked up one of the pastries. It was somewhere between a cookie and a sandwich. Two layers of pastry glued together with…
She bit in. Caramel. Or, more accurately, dulce de leche.
Yum.
She flicked her tongue out to catch stray crumbs of pastry.
Amado’s dark gaze rested on her mouth. “Rosa is the finest cook in all of Mendoza.”
“I won’t argue with you. How many cases of these can I buy?”
He laughed, and she was relieved that at least now she had him laughing with her and not at her. But it was time to get back to her real business here. “Your parents seemed upset.”
He frowned. “Yes.”
Susannah took a deep breath. “As if they know something.” She hesitated, waiting for him to draw his own conclusions.
He looked out at the bright mountain peaks silhouetted against the clear blue sky. And didn’t say a word.
“They wanted to get rid of me because they don’t want you to hear what I have to say.” She stared right at him. “You know that, don’t you?”
He blinked. “I agree that their behavior was odd.”
Susannah sensed that confusion was a rare and difficult emotion for Amado Alvarez. He didn’t know quite how to deal with it. He wanted to say No, you’re wrong.
But he couldn’t.
Amado watched the summer breeze play in her long, dark hair and pull at the loose skirt of her dress. Slender and nervous, the lovely Susannah seemed embarrassed by her invasion of his privacy.
As well she might be.
What kind of mad story was this? Of course, he should dismiss it out of hand. He had in his office a birth certificate naming Clara and Ignacio as his parents. Ignacio had made a point of presenting it to him and telling him to keep it safe.
But why had his mother and father reacted so strangely to her arrival? They’d had some obnoxious visitors in the past, folks who’d enjoyed the wine too much, but he’d never seen his parents be less than civil.
What was going on?
He stepped closer, until he could smell her scent. Subtle, floral, in keeping with her demure, businesslike persona. “Why did you come here on this strange errand?”
“Tarrant Hardcastle is my boss. I travel for the company sourcing wines. I’m pretty sure I was chosen because I’m fluent in seven languages, including Spanish. Tarrant’s daughter Fiona offered to come, but they weren’t sure you’d speak English.”
“I do, you know,” he replied, in English.
“So I see.” She smiled, which revealed a row of delicate teeth. “Then they needn’t have sent me at all, but here I am.” She shrugged. “I do love my job and I’d like to keep it.”
“And for that you require a few ounces of my life’s blood.” He had no intention of complying with her request, but she was so serious that he couldn’t resist the urge to tease her.
“As I said before, a swab from the inside of your mouth…”
Amado winced, then an entertaining idea occurred