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A Taste of the Untamed
Susan Stephens
The paparazzi are in a frenzy, mothers are locking up their daughters – Nacho Acosta is back in town!The wild, unpredictable polo champion is restoring his sprawling Argentinian vineyard and he needs a sommelier who can match his exacting tastes…Without her sight, Grace’s other senses have been heightened. In spite of her inexperience it’s made her perfect for the job – and now it’s not just the wine that has her mouth watering!Nacho is expecting meek and vulnerable, but what he gets is fiery independence…and a sensuality that excites his jaded palate!‘The story, the characters, the emotion – I love it all!’ – Genie, PA, Birmingham



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‘I presume I’m allowed to do this much for you?’ Nacho said, opening the door.
Did she appear so prickly and defensive? Probably, Grace concluded. She wasn’t cut out for the role of victim, but there was no reason to overreact to every little comment, either. Feeling for the seat, she climbed into the car, and Nacho swung into the driver’s seat at her side. It was when he closed the door and they were trapped inside the small space together that information started bombarding her brain.
He was still damp from the shower. He had used some sort of menthol soap—or was that toothpaste? Or mouthwash, maybe? Anyway, he smelled clean. Big and warm was a given—as was bursting with suppressed energy. She held herself stiffly as he started the engine, sensing his hands close, but unable to tell just how close.
‘It’s just a short drive to our newly refurbished wine facility,’ Nacho explained. ‘We could have walked there, but I thought you might be tired after the upheaval of the past few days.’
From the direction of his voice she guessed he’d turned to look at her.
Tension was rising all the time between them—or maybe she was imagining that too. She wondered if Nacho’s lips were twisted in the cynical smile she remembered at the thought of the test to come.

About the Author
SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern™ Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday, and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)
Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an after-dinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon
author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot, and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.
Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel, and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks, and plays the piano to relax, and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net—she loves to hear from her readers all around the world!

Recent titles by the same author:
THE ARGENTINIAN’S SOLACE
THE SHAMELESS LIFE OF RUIZ ACOSTA
THE UNTAMED ARGENTINIAN
Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Taste of
the Untamed
Susan Stephens


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Penny

CHAPTER ONE
‘NACHO Acosta is back in circulation!’
Screwing up her eyes as she stared at the screen. Grace blinked and tried to clear her vision. The virus she had contracted must be affecting her eyesight, she concluded, reading on: ‘Romily Winner, our Up-Town sleuth, reports on the trail of who’s hot and who’s not.’
Oh, damn …
Now there were white spots dancing in front of her eyes and the monitor screen was flashing. Pushing her chair back, Grace stood to stretch her aching limbs and inhale a lungful of stale basement air. She squeezed her eyes shut again and then blinked several times.
Better.
Relieved to find the problem had cleared, she checked the PC connections.
All good.
Tiredness, Grace concluded. It was almost one a.m. Working as a cocktail waitress in the half-light of a nightclub in Cornwall and then sitting in the club’s office working on accounts for half the night was hardly going to make for happy eyes.
Tired or not, Grace made one last trawl over the countless images of aggressively handsome men featured on the society pages of ROCK! magazine, finding it hard to believe that she had met the infamous Nacho Acosta in the hard, tanned flesh. They could hardly be said to inhabit the same world, but fate played funny tricks sometimes.
Finally managing to drag her gaze away from the photographs of Nacho, she got on with devouring every word the journalist had written about him …
With the wild Acostas all grown up and fully fledged, this reporter doubts that Nacho—at thirty-two the oldest of the notorious polo-playing Acosta brothers—will be in much hurry to quit the London scene, where he seems to be finding plenty to keep him entertained!
Grace felt a pulse of arousal even as her stomach clenched with jealousy at the thought of all the other women entertaining Nacho, as the reporter so suggestively put it. Which was ridiculous, bearing in mind she’d only met him twice, and on each occasion had felt so clumsy and awkward in comparison to Nacho’s effortless style she hardly had any right to feel so much as a twinge of envy.
But she did.
The first time they had met had been at a polo match on the beach in Cornwall, which Grace’s best friend and Nacho’s sister, Lucia, had arranged. Nacho had done little more on that occasion than lean out of the window of his monster Jeep to give Grace a quick once-over, but no man had ever looked at her that way before, and she could still remember the effect on her body of so much heat. She’d spent the rest of the day watching Nacho playing polo from the sidelines like some lovesick teenager.
They had met for a second time at Lucia’s wedding, held at the Acosta family’s main estancia in Argentina. This trip had been the greatest thrill of Grace’s life—until she’d seen Nacho in the giant marquee and his keen black stare had found her. He’d been tied up for most of the evening, hosting the event, but she had felt the effect of his powerful charisma wherever she went, so that by the time he’d found a chance to speak to her she had only been able to stare at him like a fool, wide-eyed and stumped for words.
Growing up with parents who had extolled her virtues to anyone who would listen had left Grace with crippling shyness, for the simple reason that she knew she could never be as beautiful or as gifted as they made her out to be. A lot of that shyness had been knocked out of her at the club, where the patrons appreciated her efficiency, but it had all come flooding back that night at the wedding in front of Nacho, transforming what could have been a flirty, fun encounter into a tongue-tied mess.
Shifting her mind from that embarrassing occasion, Grace studied another shot of the man who’d once rocked her world. There was yet another beautiful woman at his side, and Grace had to admit they made a striking couple. And the girl’s expression seemed to warn every other woman off.
‘You can have him,’ Grace muttered, dragging her gaze away. Nacho Acosta might be gorgeous, but that night at the wedding had proved he was well out of her league.
The sound of the nightclub pianist running through his repertoire provided a welcome distraction for Grace, who had always found company in music and books. Her parents had once had high hopes that Grace would become a concert pianist, but those dreams had ended when her father had died and there had been no more money to pay her fees at the conservatoire. Grace hadn’t realised how cossetted she had been until that moment, or what loss really meant. Losing her place at college had been devastating, but losing her father had been far, far worse.
Leaving music college had forced Grace to find a job, and she had been grateful to find a position in a nightclub where one of the top jazz musicians of the day performed. Being close to music at that level had been a small comfort to Grace, who had still been suffering greatly from the death of her father.
Turning back to the computer screen again, Grace studied the picture at the end of the article showing Lucia and her brothers. Lucia was smiling, while each of her brothers either appeared dangerous, brooding or stern. Nacho was at the dangerous end of the spectrum.
It must have been hard for Lucia, Grace reflected. The only girl in a family of four men, how had Lucia ever made herself heard, or seen, or taken account of at all? Lucia had once mentioned that being alone in the Acosta family had never been an option. It was little wonder that she had made a bid for freedom, Grace mused, leaving the family home to work in the club where the two girls had met. Nacho had raised his siblings when their parents had been killed in a flood, and though Lucia was always upbeat by nature she referred to that time as like being under the heel of the tyrant.
Grace shivered involuntarily as she studied Nacho’s face. Everyone knew Nacho Acosta to be a forceful man, who got everything he wanted.
‘Piano-time, Grace?’
She turned at the sound of Clark Mayhew’s voice as he poked his head around the door. Clark was the club pianist she so loved to hear.
‘Come on, Grace,’ Clark prompted. ‘Shut that computer down and get out here. You’ve got a real talent.’
‘Not like you,’ she said, smiling.
Clark shrugged. ‘The only difference between you and me is that I have more confidence.’
‘I wish!’ Grace exclaimed, laughing as she walked across the club, sat down and adjusted the piano stool. ‘I can’t even play without music like you. I only wish I could.’
‘But you can,’ Clark insisted. ‘Close your eyes and let the melody flow through your fingers …’
A bolt of panic hit her as Grace realised she had no option but to close her eyes. The moment she tried to focus her eyes on the music notes and lines began to wheel and collide on the page.
‘Close your eyes, Grace,’ Clark encouraged, oblivious to what was happening. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ he said when she managed a few bars.
She would definitely have to cut down her screentime, Grace realised when she opened her eyes again. The flashing lights plaguing her vision hadn’t gone away. If anything, they were getting worse.
Two years later
The girl had been eyeing him up since he’d entered the ballroom. It was a magnificent room, currently set out for a formal dinner with small tables laid for eight. An armada of glass and silverware glittered beneath huge Venetian chandeliers, which proved the perfect spotlight for the girl trying to attract his attention. Her figure alone was enough to scramble any man’s head, and the heated invitation in her eyes promised only one conclusion—if he were interested.
He’d pass. He was restless tonight, and bored by the round of engagements his PA had set up for him in London.
Tonight was a so-called power dinner, for movers and shakers in the wine industry. Nacho was better known for playing polo at an international level and running an estancia in Argentina the size of a small country, but his decision to restore the family vineyards was something he had been forced to do in order to protect his siblings’ inheritance. Nothing else would have persuaded him to return to that particular family home in Argentina …
‘Nacho.’
He turned to see the dapper figure of Don Fernando Gonzales, the chairman of the event, approaching. ‘Don Fernando.’ He inclined his head politely, noting the sultry beauty was now standing at the chairman’s side.
‘Nacho Acosta—I would like to present my daughter, Annalisa Gonzales …’
As Don Fernando stepped back an all too familiar sensation came over him as he briefly clasped the woman’s carefully manicured hand. He’d heard Don Fernando was in financial trouble, and the portly chairman wouldn’t be the first father to parade his pretty daughter in front of Nacho. Everyone knew Nacho held the reins to the family fortune, though they seemed unaware that Nacho was wise to schemes born out of desperation, or that he could do more damage to those he cared about than those misguided parents could possibly imagine.
It was almost a relief when he was distracted by the glimpse of a shining blonde head. He stared across the room, trying to work out if he had met the blonde before. His sixth sense said yes, but with only the back of her head to go on it was hard to be sure …
‘Am I keeping you, Señor Acosta?’ Annalisa Gonzales asked him with a knowing look.
Her father had peeled away, Nacho noticed, giving them the chance to get to know each other better. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, forcing himself to concentrate on what was undeniably a beautifully designed face.
‘Are you really as bad as they say you are?’ Annalisa asked, as if she hoped it were true.
‘Worse,’ he assured her.
They were both distracted by the sound of a dog barking, and Annalisa laughed as she turned to look for the culprit. ‘If I had known dogs were permitted at this dinner I would have brought Monkey, my Chihuahua—’
‘Who would have provided a tasty snack for Cormac, my Irish Wolfhound,’ he countered. ‘If you will excuse me, Señorita Gonzales, I believe the MC is about to call us to our tables …’
Grace sat down, relieved to have the woman sitting next to her introduce herself right away. Elias, Grace’s elderly employer and mentor, was sitting on Grace’s other side, but he had been immediately swept into greeting old friends and colleagues, and Grace was keen to prove that she could do this by herself. This annual event in celebration of the wine industry was Grace’s first major outing since becoming blind. It was also the first big outing for her guide dog, Buddy, and Grace was as nervous for Buddy as she was for herself. She hoped they would both get through the evening without making too many blunders.
While Grace was chatting easily to the lady at her side she took the chance to discreetly map the tablecloth and all the various hazards confronting her. A battalion of glasses was waiting to be knocked over—and then there was the cutlery she had to get right. And the napkin she had to unfold without knocking anything over. There were a lot of different-sized plates, along with groups of condiments and sugar bowls. The potential for sugar in her soup and salt in her coffee loomed large.
‘Here’s the pepper, if you want it,’ the lady next to her remarked, flagging up the arrival of the soup. ‘I like pepper on everything,’ she added, ‘though you may want to taste first. It might need salt—’
Grace felt a rush of emotion as the woman placed a second container close to her hand, where Grace could feel it. Small kindnesses counted for a lot now she was blind. They meant she could leave the house and do things like this. Elias was right. All she had to do was buckle on her courage each morning along with Buddy’s harness. It was harder doing that sometimes than talking about it, but it helped to know there were some really nice people in the world—and thank goodness for them.
‘You work for one of the great men in our industry,’ the older woman commented, obviously impressed when Grace explained that Elias had trained her to be a sommelier.
‘I guess Elias is the closest thing I’ve got to a father figure,’ Grace admitted. It wasn’t enough to describe Elias as her employer when he’d done so much for her.
‘You lost your father?’ the elderly lady prompted gently.
‘Yes,’ Grace murmured, growing sombre as she thought back.
‘I lost my father when I was very young. You’re lucky to have Elias on your side. He’s a kind man and a good man, and there aren’t many of those around—though I’m sure you’ll meet a good man of your own one day and get married.’
‘Oh, no!’ Grace exclaimed. ‘I could never do that.’
‘Why ever not?’ Grace’s companion demanded as Buddy barked at the change in Grace’s voice.
‘I wouldn’t want to be a burden,’ Grace explained.
‘A burden?’ her new friend exclaimed. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
Grace would run a mile rather than be a burden to anyone. She’d felt the same way when her mother had found happiness again after her father’s death and had wanted to marry a man with children of his own. Grace hadn’t wanted to get in the way of her mother’s happiness, and had taken the marriage as her cue to leave home for good. Then, when her sight had deteriorated, she had become doubly determined not to be a trouble to anyone.
But she wasn’t about to spoil this evening with dark thoughts. ‘I’ve still got a lot to learn and a lot to get used to,’ Grace said lightly, ‘so I think perhaps I’d better get myself sorted out before I go looking for love,’ She laughed, realizing what she’d said. ‘Perhaps it would be better if I let love come looking for me.’ She stilled, feeling a warm, papery hand covering hers.
‘You’re a brave girl, Grace. You deserve the best,’ Grace’s new friend insisted. ‘And don’t you dare settle for anything less.’
Nacho was growing increasingly impatient—although as Annalisa shrugged her slender shoulders and walked away he was forced to ask himself when the chance to accept a free gift in such attractive packaging had become so meaningless.
The past had made him hard and cynical, Nacho concluded. Most of the women he encountered seemed so obvious and shallow, and they all wanted the same thing: someone—anyone—to take care of them, financially and emotionally. And, having spent his teens and twenties caring for his siblings, he found his emotional bank was drained.
His married brothers often talked of how lucky they were to have found a soul mate. He always laughed and asked what chance they thought he stood. If they answered him he never listened. He didn’t believe in fate or luck. Hard work brought results, and he didn’t have time to waste searching for a woman. The only woman who could possibly stir his interest now would have to be strong and independent.
He cast one last look around the room, searching for the blonde again, but she seemed to have gone. He could be doing better things with his time, and as soon as politeness allowed he made his excuses and left.
On the drive back to the family penthouse in London he couldn’t shake the feeling that something of significance had happened at the dinner, though what that might have been eluded him.
Working in a vast wine warehouse was easy for Grace now she had Buddy to guide her. The big Golden Retriever could happily steer Grace across London, and navigating the now familiar maze of passages at the warehouse was a breeze for him, so Grace was curious when he started to growl.
‘What’s the matter, boy?’ she said, bending low to give him a pat. The strange thing was she could feel something too. It was the same sense of foreboding she got when there was thunder in the air.
Since her sight had failed Grace had come to rely on her other senses, and they had quickly become more developed. But apart from the thundering of her heart she could hear nothing now. ‘We’ve only got one more section to check,’ she reassured her guide dog. ‘Take me to Argentina, Buddy …’
Hearing one of his command words, Buddy led Grace unerringly to the section in the warehouse where wines from Argentina were stored. If Grace had said Spain, or France, or New World, the highly trained guide dog would have known exactly where to take her. To make doubly sure there could never be a mistake each section was labelled in Braille as well as in script.
Grace had had to learn a lot of new things since losing her sight to a rare virus. At first numbness and denial at the bleakness of her prognosis had swept over her, keeping her chained to the bed, to the house, but then anger and frustration had taken over, and they had demanded action. She’d decided that didn’t want to spend the rest of her life blundering around and falling over things, and had finally determined she would learn to trust the hated stick.
‘The Stick’ had sat in a corner of Grace’s bedroom since her return from hospital, where a therapist had assured her in no uncertain terms that if she didn’t use it to get out of the house she would spend her life in darkness.
‘But I am in darkness!’ Grace had yelled in angry desperation.
There had been a lot of screaming and yelling as well as quiet sobbing through those dark, difficult times. It had changed nothing. Having Elias in the background, nagging her constantly to get on with her life, had worked, and finally picking up ‘The Stick’ had changed her life. It had been her first step towards independence.
But just when she had gathered enough courage to walk down the road she’d realized everything above waist-height slapped her in the face. On one outing she had crept home, feeling her way an inch at a time … like a blind woman. And another week had been wasted grieving for what couldn’t be changed. It was only when Lucia had turned up with a representative from the Guide Dogs’ Association that Grace had been persuaded to try something new.
At first she had protested that she couldn’t look after herself, never mind a dog, but to her shock Lucia had snapped angrily, ‘For goodness’ sake, pull yourself together, Grace. Buddy needs feeding—and he needs regular walks. This isn’t all about you, Grace.’
Grace had slowly realized that she had been behaving incredibly selfishly and had immersed herself in a lonely world of her own making. She had given Lucia every cause to be worried about her progressively withdrawn friend.
When Buddy had arrived everything had changed. From the moment the big dog snuggled up to Grace it was a done deal. Buddy alerted her to every hazard, and by doing so opened up Grace’s world. Lucia, as usual, had gone overboard, enthusing and saying that as Buddy was already chipped and inoculated, and had his very own doggy passport, there was no excuse for Grace not to go travelling.
As if! Grace had thought at the time. Though now, thanks to Buddy, her confidence was building daily.
‘What is your problem?’ Grace demanded fondly as Buddy continued to growl. She relaxed when she heard the voice of her mentor, Elias Silver. Elias had used to supply the club with wine, which was how they’d met, and he’d offered her a job when no one else would, encouraging Grace to retrain as sommelier. ‘Elias must be meeting someone,’ she commented, stroking Buddy’s silky ears. ‘You’ll have to get used to people you don’t know now we’re both working full-time.’
Grace had barely returned to her office when Elias came in, full of suppressed excitement.
‘The new wines I’ve just been tasting are exceptional.’
‘And?’ Grace prompted, sensing there was more to come.
She grew increasingly uneasy as the silence lengthened.
‘I’ve known about this vineyard for years,’ Elias started telling her, in a tone that suggested he was choosing his words carefully. ‘I was planning for us to go to Argentina together, Grace—’
She did a mental double-take. This was the first she’d heard of it.
Argentina—so far away. And impossible for her to visit now she was blind.
Argentina—the home of the Acostas and Nacho—
‘Don’t look so shocked,’ Elias insisted. ‘You know I’ve been slowing down recently …’
Grace’s thoughts whirled. Elias being less than fit was a terrifying prospect. He was a dear friend.
‘You’ll have to go to Argentina without me,’ he said.
‘Sorry?’ she breathed in a shocked voice.
‘If there was any alternative, believe me, I would suggest it, Grace, but my doctor has insisted I must rest.’
‘Then you must rest, and I’ll look after you,’ Grace insisted.
‘The business can’t afford for both of us to be away at the same time, and I’m not going to risk losing out on top-quality wine to a competitor. You have to go, Grace. Who else can I ask? Who else can I trust?’
‘But what if I let you down?’
‘You won’t,’ Elias assured her. ‘I believe in you, Grace. I always have. You must go to Argentina to check this vineyard and its wine production for me.’
She was filled with concern for Elias and fear at the thought of failing him. ‘I want to help, but—’
‘Don’t say But I’m blind,’ Elias warned her. ‘Don’t ever say that, Grace, or everything you have achieved since losing your sight will be lost.’
‘And you’ve been there for me from the start.’
‘Yes, I have,’ he said pointedly.
When he had first heard about her illness Elias had sought her out with an unconditional offer of help, saying it was his way of repaying Grace for all her small kindnesses over the years.
‘You know how short we are on Argentinian wine,’ he said. ‘Would you have me turn customers away?’
‘No, of course not. But do I really need to go to Argentina? Can’t we find someone else to go?’
‘No,’ Elias said flatly. ‘Apart from the little matter of trust, I think you need to go to Argentina to prove you can do it, Grace. It’s the next step for you. And if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. I’m trying to make a businesswoman out of you, as well as a connoisseur of wine, and you must always satisfy yourself that things are what they seem to be before you place an order. It won’t be so bad,’ he encouraged. ‘You’ll only be there a month or so—’
‘A month!’ Grace exclaimed, horrorstruck. Just when she’d been about ready to say maybe, Elias had moved the goalposts.
‘And you must leave right away, to catch the harvest at its best,’ he continued. ‘I’ll need a full report from you, Grace.’
One of the things she loved about Elias was that he never made any allowances for her being blind. But this was too much. This wasn’t the ‘next step’—it was a huge leap across an unknowable chasm.
‘But you know I can’t travel—’
‘I know nothing of the sort,’ Elias argued. ‘You can get about London, can’t you?’
‘Only because I have Buddy to help me—’
‘Exactly,’ Elias interrupted. ‘Grace, I can’t trust anyone else to do this. Are you saying I wasted my money training you?’
‘Of course not. I can’t imagine what I’d be doing now if you hadn’t helped me. You know how grateful I am.’
‘I don’t want your gratitude. I want you out there doing the job you’ve been trained to do.’
‘But I haven’t left the country since—’
‘Since your sight was reduced to looking at the world as if through the wrong end of a telescope? Yes, I know that. But I thought you liked a challenge, Grace?’
‘I do,’ Grace insisted, remembering the staff at the rehabilitation centre telling her she must keep pushing the boundaries—but not as far as Argentina, surely?
‘I can’t travel,’ Elias said flatly, ‘and taking on a new supplier is a huge risk for the business. We have to be sure these wines are as good as they promise to be.’
‘Surely sending me in your place is an even bigger risk?’
‘Grace, my father taught me, his father taught him, and now I’ve trained you, with many patient tasting sessions—’
‘Patient?’ Grace interrupted, starting to smile.
‘I love to hear you happy, Grace. Don’t let life frighten you. Please promise me that.’
‘But do I know enough?’ she said, still fretting.
‘I know sommeliers who have been judging wine for forty years and don’t have your natural ability,’ Elias insisted. ‘There’s only one amateur I can think of who comes close to matching your palate and he just left the building.’
Grace felt the same tremble of awareness she had felt at that dinner, when Buddy had started barking, but she didn’t believe in coincidence, and there had to be more than one family in Argentina that owned vineyards. And hadn’t Lucia said the Acosta vineyards had been languishing for years?
‘You don’t have to worry about Buddy,’ Elias was saying. ‘He won’t be a problem as you’ll both be travelling in style on the Acosta family jet.’
‘The Acosta family?’ Grace’s throat closed up as her worst fears were confirmed. ‘Who exactly is it I’m meeting in Argentina?’ she managed hoarsely.
Elias laughed, as if to confirm his thoughts that she was overreacting. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to face the whole tribe at once—just the kingpin, Nacho.’
‘Nacho?’ A sound that was half a laugh and half a hysterical sob squeezed out of her throat. ‘You have warned Señor Acosta that I will be travelling to Argentina in your place?’
Elias took too long to answer.
‘You haven’t?’ she said.
‘I won’t lose out to a competitor,’ Elias said stubbornly. ‘And I can’t see why you’re making such a fuss. You know the Acosta family, don’t you?’
‘You know I do. Lucia is my best friend. You must remember we worked together at the club. And, yes, I’ve met her brothers, too,’ she said, making sure to keep all expression out of her voice.
‘Well, there you are!’ Elias exclaimed. ‘You’ll be flying to the far west of their property, where I’m told it’s very beautiful. You’ll see the snow-capped Andes, and all those glorious rivers that feed the vines. It’s perfect wine-growing country—’ Elias stopped. ‘Oh, Grace, I’m so sorry …’
‘Please don’t be,’ she said. ‘What I can’t see I can’t tell you about, but I’ll make up for it in other ways, I promise. I’m sure the air will be different—and I can still smell. I can still feel the sun on my face. And the rain,’ she added wryly as the latest in a series of angry winter storms rattled the windows. ‘There will be so many new experiences—’ She stopped, remembering the one experience ahead that really frightened her: meeting the most formidable of the Acosta brothers again. ‘Was Nacho Acosta here today, by any chance?’
‘Yes. Nacho’s taken charge of the family vineyards,’ Elias confirmed breezily. ‘I’ve got every confidence in you,’ he stressed. ‘I know I couldn’t have a better representative. This trip is going to be a piece of cake for you, Grace.’
It was to be hoped the cake didn’t choke her.

CHAPTER TWO
GRACE’S decision to go to Argentina had been made by the time Elias left the room. She wouldn’t let her elderly mentor down. She’d always been thankful Elias didn’t treat her any differently because she was blind, and now she had to rise to the challenge. It was just a little harder because Nacho was involved …
Okay, it was a whole lot harder. Nacho wasn’t exactly noted for his tolerance, and this would be her first big job. Was she trying to run before she could walk? Would Nacho even listen to her views on his wine and the way he ran the family vineyard? Apart from the extensive training Elias had given her she had no real experience in this area, and certainly no money or lofty lineage like the Acosta family.
She must stop with the negatives and concentrate on the positives, Grace concluded. But her thoughts were all over the place at the thought of meeting Nacho again. Their first meeting had been a disaster, and her body had reeled at the sight of him, but this next meeting would be very different. It was business, and she didn’t have the option to be a shrinking violet. Now she was blind she had to get out there and make her presence felt.
She thought back to the wedding again, and how painfully shy she had been. She had felt out of place amongst so many glamorous, confident people, and had been horrified when Nacho had come to her rescue. She hadn’t been able to think of anything interesting to say to him, and had stood transfixed like a rabbit trapped in a car’s headlights when he had brushed a gentle kiss against her lips. First chance she’d got, she’d bolted. ‘Like Cinderella,’ as Lucia had later chided her, adding the unsettling news that her brother had been less than pleased.
Grace couldn’t begin to imagine what Nacho would think of her now she was blind and also in a position to put a curb on his business objectives.
This wasn’t the first time since her sight had failed that she had felt like beating her head against the wall and screaming, Why me? Unfortunately, she always came up with the same answer: why not me?
Later that night Grace packed a case with an assortment of clothes taken from her carefully organised wardrobe. Lucia, who had always been strong on the organisational front, had come up with a foolproof plan that enabled Grace to find colour-co-ordinated outfits. By tagging the various suit bags and drawers with Braille labels, Lucia had made finding her clothes and accessories easy.
If only handling inner turmoil could be managed as easily, Grace fretted.
She was excited and yet terrified at the prospect of seeing Nacho again. But she couldn’t actually see him, so it couldn’t be that bad.
Even she didn’t believe that.
Not wanting to spoil Grace’s chances of making the trip, Elias had e-mailed Nacho immediately to say that at the last minute another expert would be taking his place.
‘Well, it’s true,’ Elias had protested when Grace had pulled him up on it.
Grace might not approve of Elias’s methods, but he had her loyalty—and if she stopped to think how Nacho was going to react when he saw who it was taking Elias’s place she would never get on that plane.
A blind sommelier? Wouldn’t that be a thrill for Nacho? He was expecting Elias Silver, master vintner and emperor of a European wine distribution network, and he would get Grace and her guide dog instead.
The journey to Argentina was so much easier than Grace had imagined. A chauffeur-driven car picked her up at home, and her transit through the airport was seamless. Maybe that was something all private plane passengers experienced but, blind or not, she thought it was quite something to be escorted and fussed over.
The moment she stepped out of the plane she noticed how warm it was, and how good it felt to have the sun on her face instead of the prickly chill of a damp English winter. The smell of jet fuel still caught in her throat, but there was spice in the air too, and the foreign language sounded musical and intriguing.
There were interpreters on hand to lead Grace to yet another chauffeur-driven car, and the driver was chatty, spoke perfect English, and took a very obvious pride in his country—which led to an illuminating travelogue for Grace. Apparently there were billboards of the Acosta brothers all the way down the main road, and as they travelled across the flat expanses of the pampas he told her about the jagged mountains there, with eagles soaring on the updrafts around their snowy peaks.
The driver showed no surprise that Grace was blind. Nacho’s PA had made all the arrangements with Elias, he explained, when Grace made a casual comment. It was just the great man himself who didn’t realise he had a beautiful woman coming to taste his wine, as Nacho had been away on a business trip, the driver joked.
Ha-ha, Grace thought weakly, but the driver went on to tell her about the broad river that flowed like a sinuous silver snake through emerald-green farmland until it passed the hacienda, where it roared down to a treacherous weir. Even if she could have seen everything the driver was describing to her, Grace began to think that she might have rested back after the long journey anyway, and allowed him to colour in the scenes outside the window for her.
It was a long drive to the vineyard, and she fell asleep after a while. When she woke she felt rested in mind and body, knowing the first hurdle—travel—was behind her. This was the first time she’d been abroad since losing her sight and she’d travelled halfway across the world! That should give her some confidence.
Remembering Elias’s enthusiastic description of the vineyards, Grace realized she was looking forward to discovering them for herself. She might not be able to see all those wonderful sights, but she would hear the river the driver had told her about, and she would smell those lush emerald-green farmlands. She smiled, convinced that in spite of all the Nacho-sized problems ahead of her she was going to like it here.
His schedule had been ridiculous recently—one business trip on top of another—but when he visited this particular stretch of the river he began to relax.
It was like visiting a grave and speaking to his long-dead parents, Nacho reflected darkly.
When he had first returned to the vineyards every inch of the estate had taunted him with one painfully familiar scene after another, but he had continued to ride the paths until he had conquered the demons and made some sort of peace—enough, at least, to revive the vineyards. Perhaps he gained a sense of perspective in the shadow of the Andes, and all the small irritations in his life could be swept away in the broad silver river as it flowed to the sea.
Murmuring reassurances to his newly broken horse, he slapped the proud, arched neck with approval. When his stallion stilled to listen to his voice he wondered, not for the first time, if he didn’t prefer animals to people. As the stallion struck the ground aggressively he was reminded they were both experiencing great change. The horse had lost his freedom, while Nacho had gained his after years of caring for his siblings. But the shallow life of a playboy had not been for him, and his freedom had soon proved disappointing. So Nacho had returned to Argentina full of renewed determination to turn the failing vineyards into a valuable asset for his family.
‘We both need something to distract us,’ he murmured as the stallion’s muscles balled beneath him.
Keen to inspect the vines, he urged the horse forward. Under his rule order had been restored and another considerable asset added to the Acosta family fortune.
The sun on his back after the chill of London was an almost sensual pleasure, and he couldn’t have been in a better mood. Until he saw the dog. Unleashed and unattended, a big yellow mutt was relieving himself on his vines. And then a flash of movement drew his attention to the riverbank. Filled with fury at this unauthorised intrusion, he kicked the horse into a gallop, closing the distance at brutal speed.
‘This is private land!’ he roared, drawing the stallion to a skidding halt.
Grace hugged herself in terror. That voice, the raging hooves—this was everything she had been dreading and more.
And everything she had hoped for, Grace’s inner voice insisted.
Had dreaded, Grace argued firmly. She had planned to have a businesslike first meeting with Nacho, in the calm surroundings of his office—not the furious drum of steel-shod hooves crashing to a halt only inches away. His horse’s hot breath was on her face, and she could feel Nacho glaring down at her. Being this close to him slammed into her senses and memories flooded back, colouring in the void behind her eyes. Nacho was bigger, stronger, darker—more intimidating than any man she had ever known before.
So had she wilfully courted danger? Hadn’t Nacho’s housekeeper warned her that the master might be back home soon? Hadn’t she mentioned that he always liked to ride along the riverbank when he came home?
Nacho wheeled his snorting stallion to a halt within a few inches of the girl’s back. She didn’t flinch, as he had expected. She didn’t move at all. She kept her back to him and ignored him. Her dog showed more sense, sinking to its belly and baring its teeth.
‘This is a private land,’ he repeated harshly, ‘And you are trespassing.’
‘I heard you, Nacho.’
Dios! Dear God! No!
As the girl turned around, shocked curses without number or form flooded his head. When he saw who it was … when he saw her unfocused eyes … heknew her.
Of course he knew her. But not like this.
‘Grace?’ he demanded.
‘Of course it’s Grace,’ she said—with false bravado, he suspected, noticing how she quivered with apprehension like a doe at bay. ‘Didn’t Elias e-mail ahead to warn you I was coming?’
‘My PA said something about his replacement.’ His brain was racing to find the right words to say. There were none, he concluded. He was angry at this obvious deception by Elias, but he was shattered at seeing Grace like this.
‘And you can’t believe I’m that replacement?’ she said. ‘Is that it?’
‘How can you be,’ he demanded, ‘when Elias is the best in his field?’
She fell silent and he took a better look at her. It felt strange to be staring at someone who couldn’t see—as if he were taking advantage of her, almost. But apart from the vague, unfocused eyes Grace hadn’t changed that much at all.
He didn’t need this sort of distraction in his life. He had marked Grace out as interesting at Lucia’s wedding, only to find her disappointingly immature and naïve.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ she said, crashing into his thoughts. ‘I felt sure that Elias would have mentioned that I work for him when you came to see him in London.’
‘The subject never came up,’ he said brusquely. ‘Why would it?’
‘Well, please don’t be angry with Elias. He trained me well, and he has every reason to trust my judgement.’
‘And you expect me to?’ Nacho cut in with scorn.
His horse had started stamping its hooves on the ground, as if the big beast had had enough of her too. She could smell it and feel its hot breath. She could hear the creak of leather and the chink of its bridle as it danced impatiently within inches of her toes.
‘I can’t believe Elias would send a young girl in his place when I was expecting a master vintner,’ Nacho said from somewhere way above her.
‘And you’re wondering what I can possibly know about fine wine?’ she said, determined to keep her voice steady.
‘I’m wondering what you’re doing here at all. Did you learn about wine at the club?’ he suggested scornfully.
The wine they had served there, by Elias’s own admission, had been his cheapest brand, Grace remembered.
‘There’s definitely been some mistake,’ Nacho insisted.
‘There’s no mistake,’ Grace insisted, growing angry. ‘I can assure you I’ve been very well trained.’
Nacho laughed. ‘So has my horse.’
She looked as if she’d like to unseat him, her jaw fixed and her hands balled into fists. She was angry. So what? But what should have been a simple solution—send Grace home on the next flight—was immeasurably changed by the fact that she was blind. And she was his sister’s best friend. How could he rage against a girl scrabbling around on the ground searching for her dog’s harness?
‘It’s over there—to your left,’ he said impatiently.
Dios! What had he said now? Grace couldn’t see anything to her left or her right.
‘Thank you, but Buddy will find it for me,’ she snapped, still angry with him.
Sure enough, the big dog put the harness in her hand.
The last time Nacho had seen Grace had been at Lucia’s wedding, where he’d felt a connection between them he couldn’t explain. Wanting to pursue it, he’d found her as nervous as a fawn. Perhaps she had sensed something of the darkness about him? he’d thought at the time. She had certainly changed since then—because she’d had to, he realised. There was a resolve about Grace now that piqued his interest all over again.
‘I realise that my coming here must be a shock for you, Nacho,’ she said. She deftly fastened the harness while the big dog stood obediently still.
‘Somewhat,’ he conceded, with massive understatement. ‘What happened to you, Grace?’
‘A virus,’ she said with a shrug.
However casually she might treat it, he felt angry for her. ‘How long do you plan to stay?’ Before she had a chance to answer he gave his own reading of the situation. ‘I expect you’ll take a few notes, have a look around, and then report back to Elias. Shouldn’t take long—say, a day?’
‘A day?’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll need to do more than take a few notes!’
In spite of his outrage at the trick Elias had played on him, his overriding feeling was of dismay when Grace turned her head and her lovely eyes homed in on the approximate direction of his voice.
‘I’ve brought a Braille keyboard and a screen with me,’ she explained matter-of-factly. ‘I expect to be here for around a month.’
‘A month?’ he exploded.
‘Possibly a couple of days more,’ she said, thinking about it. ‘Please don’t be concerned,’ she said briskly. ‘I am a trained sommelier, with a diploma in viticulture—’
‘And how much experience?’ he demanded sharply. What the hell was Elias playing at? He would just have to send someone else to evaluate his wine.
Sensing his growing anger, the stallion skittered nervously beneath him. Grace had started walking up the path ahead of him, with her dog at her heels.
‘Aren’t you going to put your sandals on?’ he called after her
‘I’m not a child, Nacho.’ Without turning she dangled her sandals from one finger and waggled them at him in defiance.
She couldn’t let Nacho see that she was as tense as a board, and that she couldn’t stand his scrutiny a moment longer. She just had to get back to the guest cottage where she was staying and regroup. She hadn’t anticipated feeling that same stab of excitement when was she near him, but nothing had changed. Nacho couldn’t have made it plainer that she was not only the last person he wanted to see but an unwelcome intruder on his land—and a fraud. At the wedding she had allowed her head to fill with immature fairytale notions and had had her bluff well and truly called when he had sought her out. But she was here now, and she was staying until she got this job done.
They walked on in silence. She felt as if Nacho were tracking her like a hunter with his prey. She could feel his gaze boring into her back, flooding every part of her with awareness and arousal. It made her recall his touch on her arm at the wedding and the brush of his lips on her mouth. She remembered the terrifying way her body had responded—violently, longingly. Common sense had kicked in just in time, reminding her that she was inexperienced and Nacho Acosta was not, and that any more kisses would only lead to heartbreak in the end. As far as Grace was concerned, love and lovemaking were inextricably entwined, while Nacho, according to the popular press, was a notorious playboy who drank his fill at every trough around the world.
But he was right about one thing. If only she could see.
The path was stony. She stopped to put her sandals on.
‘Please don’t,’ she said, hearing Nacho move as if he might dismount to help her. ‘Buddy will stop me falling,’ she insisted—which should have been true. But for the first time in ages she was stumbling around like a blind woman. She hadn’t felt so unsure of herself since the shadows had closed in, Grace realised, beginning to panic. She even missed when she went to grasp Buddy’s harness.
‘Here—let me,’ Nacho said brusquely.
It was too late to say no. He had already sprung to the ground.
‘Thank you, but you’ll only confuse Buddy,’ she said tensely, feeling quivers of awareness all over her body as Nacho closed in.
‘My apologies,’ he said in a cold voice. ‘I realise your dog can do many things, but can he catch you if you fall?’
‘Buddy prevents me falling,’ she pointed out. ‘And we’re fine from here. Buddy? The cottage.’
She was walking faster and faster now, practically running from one kind of darkness to another, with no landmarks in between. She was frightened of the strange territory, and she was frightened of Nacho. She heard him mount up again and now he was right behind her, his horse almost on top of her.
‘We know our way,’ she insisted, fighting off the terrifying sense of being hunted in the dark. She wished he’d speak, so she could tell exactly where he was. She wished she could see his face and know exactly what he was thinking. As long as there wasn’t any pity on it. She couldn’t have borne that. She’d had enough of people treating her as if her brain was faulty along with her sight. ‘Really, we’re fine from here,’ she called out, hating the fact that her voice was shaking.
‘Can’t I show you some basic civility?’ he said, giving her some indication that he was keeping his horse a safe distance away. ‘While you’re here in Argentina you’re my guest.’
While she was there? That sounded ominous, as if she wouldn’t be here very long—which was bad news for Elias. ‘Look, I must apologise,’ she said, drawing to a halt. ‘I realise we haven’t got off to the best of starts. I want you to know that I’m really looking forward to tasting your wines …’ She stood and listened. It had gone very quiet again. ‘Elias spoke so highly of them …’
She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard Nacho’s horse move and its harness chink.
‘I’m sorry if my being here instead of Elias has been a disappointment for you,’ she said.
Not half as sorry as he was.
‘And I realise you must be wondering—’
‘Wondering what, Grace?’ he interrupted. Shortening the reins, he brought the stallion under control. ‘Elias has kept me completely in the dark. I feel let down. What am I supposed to think when Elias sends a young girl with little or no experience in his place? If you’re asking me to be blunt, I can’t imagine how you can possibly do the job.’
She flinched, and he felt wretched, but people’s livelihoods were at stake. And now she was about to fall down a bank.
‘Grace, watch out!’ he yelled.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said as the dog led her safely back onto the path.
‘You nearly did.’
‘Buddy wouldn’t let me fall.’
He admired her confidence and hoped it wasn’t misplaced. This was not the naïve young girl he remembered from Lucia’s wedding. This was a woman with steel in her spine and she intrigued him—which complicated matters.
‘How did you find your way to the river in the first place?’ he said, trying to imagine himself blindfolded, with only a dog to lead him.
‘Buddy heard the water—smelled it too, I expect. He started barking, and after the long journey I thought we both needed some fresh air.’
‘I can’t understand why my sister didn’t mention your illness.’
‘Because I asked her not to.’
‘Why keep it a secret?’ he said suspiciously.
‘Because I’m handling it,’ she said, marching on. ‘Because I don’t want to be treated any differently just because I can’t see. I don’t want to be defined by being blind. I don’t want it to influence what people think about me.’
‘I think you’re being overly optimistic, Grace.’
‘Well, maybe I am, but I don’t want smothering,’ she snapped. ‘I’m quite capable of looking after myself.’
‘Don’t you think it would be more considerate if you warned people in advance, so that they can make the necessary provision for you?’
‘What provision?’ she flashed. ‘That’s exactly what I don’t want. Why should I—?’
‘Compromise?’ he suggested as he battled to keep the stallion in check.
The horse was bored with inactivity, and it didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. Animals could sense tempers rising faster than humans, and Nacho was determined that passions of any kind would not be roused between him and Grace.
Passion could kill, as he knew only too well, and he never made the same mistake twice.

CHAPTER THREE
‘SURELY compromise is all part of adapting to your new situation?’ Nacho insisted as he continued to follow Grace along the riverbank. He caught a glimpse of her face as she strode along. Her jaw was firm and the set of her face was still angry. He could almost see her thinking, What would you know about it? And the answer to that, for once in his life, was absolutely nothing.
‘Why should I compromise?’ she said, confirming those thoughts. ‘That sounds too much like defeat to me.’
‘Grace! Watch that branch—’
‘I’m okay,’ she fired back, and the big dog adjusted direction seamlessly to lead Grace safely round the fallen branch.
But she still couldn’t know she was so very close to the edge of a steep bank, or that from there it was just a short fall into the fast-flowing river. Nacho’s head reeled with sudden dread as he thought back to another time and a tragedy he should have been there to prevent.
‘I might not be able to see the river,’ Grace said, as if she could read his thoughts as well. ‘But I can hear it. And with Buddy to guide me and keep me safe—’
‘There’s absolutely no danger of you falling in?’ he demanded sarcastically as the ugly memories continued to play out in his head. ‘And if such a thing were to happen, your dog would, of course, leap in and save you.’
‘Yes, he would,’ she said, ignoring his sarcasm. ‘Buddy has more ability than you can possibly imagine.’
His imagination was all too active, unfortunately, and while Grace was staying here she was his responsibility. ‘Next time you feel like putting your life at risk, call me first.’
He ground his jaw when she laughed. It would be better if Grace left immediately.
‘I’m sorry if I shock you with my independence,’ she said. ‘Would you have preferred me to remain cowering in the guest cottage until you arrived?’
‘If you expect to do any sort of business with me you should think firstly about being more polite, and secondly about being more compliant.’
‘More compliant? What do you think I am? And if you speak like that to everyone you meet, no wonder they’re not polite to you. My job, as I understand it, is to independently judge your wine—so I would have thought that for your sake, and for the success of your business, my compliance would be the last thing you should want.’
She had an answer for everything. His practised gaze roved over Grace’s slender frame. She had changed completely in all ways but one—physically she was every bit as attractive as he remembered.
‘Elias has been very good to you,’ he observed, curious about this new Grace.
‘Yes,’ she said, relaxing for the first time. ‘He took me on when no one else would even give me a job. And he paid for my training.’
It was interesting to see her open up, though the training must have been recent, which was hardly what he hoped for in an expert. ‘I’m surprised Elias was less than frank with me. He only had to pick up the phone to explain what he intended to do.’
‘And would you have allowed me to come if he had done that?’
He had no answer to that.
‘And please don’t blame your PA,’ Grace insisted. ‘You must have been in the air when Elias e-mailed. Your housekeepers have made me very welcome, so it would seem she has done her job to perfection.’
His PA had called him, but he’d hardly been listening. One of the old-timers at the business meeting he’d been attending had been telling him that Nacho’s visit to London had reminded them all of the old days—when his father had gone tomcatting around Europe, he presumed. Nacho had wanted to defend himself, to protest that that might have been his father’s way but it wasn’t his, but he wouldn’t betray his father. The conversation had taken him back to being a boy, standing tall and proud in front of his parent, and being told that Nacho would be in charge of the family while his father was away.
It was only at school that he had learned the truth. His parents weren’t the only ones who had been good at keeping secrets. Nacho had kept secrets most of his life.
‘You won’t blame your PA for this, will you?’ Grace pressed him.
‘No, of course not,’ he said, frowning as his thoughts snapped back to the present and Grace.
She nodded her thanks as she continued to walk confidently behind the dog.
She might have been on a footpath in London rather than a remote trail in the shadow of the Andes.
How could she know the difference?
Whatever he thought of Grace arriving in Elias’s place, it was impossible not to rage against her fate.
‘The air’s so good here,’ she enthused, oblivious to his thoughts as she sucked in a deep, appreciative breath. ‘It’s like the finest wine: crisp and ripe, laced with the scent of young fruit and fresh blossom.’
His expression changed. Perfect. A romantic. Wasn’t that all he needed in a business associate? Not that Grace would be around long enough to do business with him. As soon as he could politely get rid of her he would.
But as the wind kicked up, lifting her glossy blonde hair from her shoulders, he felt exactly the same punch in the gut attraction he’d felt at the wedding.
Turning towards the mountains, he searched for distraction. The Andes were always a glorious sight—a towering reminder of the majesty of the land entrusted to him. It was a trust that even the most bitter of memories couldn’t alter. The rugged peaks sheltered his vines from the worst of the weather, while the glacier-melt flowing down the slopes of those peaks sweetened the glistening purple grapes.
And Grace could see none of it …
Meeting a beautiful young woman in the first flush of her beauty and wanting her, and then barely two years later seeing her like this, was a stinging reminder that nothing in life remained the same.
‘Your housekeeper mentioned you had business in South Africa?’ Grace said, obviously in an attempt to get the conversation going again.
‘I was there on business,’ he said curtly.
No wonder Nacho had a reputation for being the most difficult of the Acosta brothers. But Grace thought she could see a reason for it. As the oldest child, responsible for his siblings, Nacho hadn’t had much time for himself. Even on the polo field he was the leader of the pack, with all the responsibility that involved.
She tried again. ‘I hope my using your family jet didn’t leave you slumming it on a scheduled flight?’
‘I’m not that precious, Grace.’
As she laughed Grace turned her head in the direction of his voice. Another solid blow to the gut hit him when he saw that gaze, so lovely, yet so misty and unfocused, miss his face. He stamped on the feeling it gave him. Grace was his responsibility only while she was here. Once she was gone that was an end of it—and she wouldn’t thank him for his pity.
‘Are you still there?’ she called out.
‘Battling to keep up,’ he mocked, riding with the reins hanging loose. He had kicked his feet out of the stirrups some way back.
‘You’re very quiet,’ she said, marching on.
‘You’ll know when I’ve got something to say.’ He stared at her back—the upright stance, the pitch of her head, chin lifted. He couldn’t get over how confident she had become.
Because she’d had to.
‘Just let me know if I’m going too fast for you,’ she mocked.
She made it hard for him to remain angry for long. In fact she reminded him in some ways of his sister, Lucia. Lucia was always pushing the boundaries, always testing him, and he could see now why the two girls were such good friends.
‘I can see you have picked up some very bad habits from Lucia. And as you’re not my sister, and merely work for me—’
‘With you,’ she flashed.
‘As you’re not my sister,’ he repeated patiently, ‘your privileges do not extend to goading me while you’re here.’
‘So you have accepted that I am going to be here for a while?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You didn’t have to.’
This time when she turned her head in his direction he saw the smile hovering round her mouth. His gaze remained on her lips for quite some time.
‘Can I ask you something, Nacho?’ she said, turning back again.
‘Of course,’ he said, feeling the loss now he had to content himself with a view of the back of her head.
‘Will you give me a list of all the places that are out of bounds so I don’t make any more mistakes? In Braille, of course,’ she added, tongue in cheek.
A muscle worked in his jaw. He wasn’t used to this sort of insubordination. Most people obeyed him gladly. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ he said, realising that he was going to have to play Grace’s game for the short time she was here. ‘I’ll get a translator for you. Or you could learn my rules by rote, if you prefer.’
‘Are you smiling?’ she said. ‘I can’t tell.’
No. He was learning fast and had kept his voice carefully neutral.
‘If this visit is going to be a success,’ she said, bearing out his theory, ‘we’ll both have to make adjustments—won’t we, Nacho?’
‘Will we?’ he said.
The breeze was on Grace’s side. Catching hold of the hem of her flimsy summer dress, it flicked it, giving him a grandstand view of her smooth, tanned legs. Arousal fired inside him, but he instantly damped it down.
‘Do you remember when we first met in Cornwall?’ she said, pulling his attention back to her hips as she strode along. ‘You had just arrived for that polo match on the beach. You rolled down the window of that monster Jeep, and—’
‘And what, Grace?’ he pressed, seeing her cheeks had flushed bright red. A very masculine hunger filled him at the thought that she had wanted him back then.
‘I was just wondering if you remembered, that’s all,’ she said casually, closing the topic with a flick of her wrist.
He remembered.
When Grace fell silent it gave them both a chance to think back. She broke the silence first. ‘I could see you properly then.’
Very cleverly, she gave him no clue as to whether that had been good or bad. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I haven’t changed—’
‘Hard luck,’ she flashed.
How was it possible to ignore a woman like this? Or ignore the way she made him feel? No woman had made him laugh in what seemed like forever. He was glad the so-called appeal of the Acosta brothers was lost on Grace, and he would be happy if he never had to hear again in his life that he looked like his father. His gaze returned to Grace’s slender hips, swaying to a rhythm that was all her own. One thing was certain: if this banter between them was a ruse to keep his interest, she had succeeded where many had failed.
‘I was over-awed by you,’ she admitted.
‘Why?’
‘Because you were so famous and seemed so aloof. And even compared to the other polo players you were huge—and so confident.’
‘And at the wedding?’
‘You frightened me half to death,’ she admitted bluntly.
He laughed for the second time in who knew how many years. ‘So how do you feel about meeting me again, Grace?’
‘Well, at least I can’t see you this time,’ she said.
Laughter was becoming a habit he would have to break if he was to retain his title as the hard man of the Acostas. ‘And does that help?’
‘It certainly does,’ she said.
It was a good, brave answer, but he was suspicious and couldn’t resist asking, ‘So, are you here to pick up where we left off?’
‘As I recall,’ she countered, ‘when we met at the wedding I was the one to leave.’
Correct. ‘Touché, Señorita Lundström.’
A blast of white-hot lust ripped through him when she angled her head as if to cast him a flirtatious glance—though of course she could do no such thing. He liked this verbal jousting. He liked the way Grace stood up for herself. And he liked Grace. A lot.
‘Is something wrong?’ she called back to him. ‘You’ve gone very quiet …’
‘I’m enjoying the day,’ he said, thinking it wise to confine himself, as the British so often did, to talk of the weather.
‘It is beautiful,’ she agreed, stretching out her arms.
Her arms were beautiful—slender and lightly tanned. Grace was beautiful. He only wished she could see how beautiful the day was—but that was a ridiculous investment of concern on his part. As was his growing admiration for Grace. Far better he got this conversation back to business, where Grace was sure to fall short and disappoint him. Then he could send her packing, and that would be the end of a fantasy where he changed from a hard, unfeeling man into the sort of hero Grace might admire.
‘Buddy’s certainly enjoying the weather,’ she said.
‘Oh, good,’ he said without enthusiasm.
He stared at the dog. The dog stared back at him. He loved animals, and they normally gravitated towards him—but not this one. The big dog’s loyalty was firmly fixed in stone. Nacho’s attention switched back to Grace. From the back you wouldn’t know anything had changed about her. Life could be very cruel sometimes, but that didn’t change the facts. What the hell had Elias been thinking? What use was a blind sommelier?
‘So, tell me about your job, Grace,’ he said, starting to seethe as he thought about how he’d been duped by the wily old wine importer. ‘How does that work?’
‘What do you mean, how does it work?’ she said without breaking stride. ‘I might be blind, but I can still taste and smell.’
‘And what about the clarity of the wine?’ he pressed with increasing impatience. ‘What about the sediment—the colour, the viscosity?’
‘The colour I have to take on trust, when people describe it to me, but like most people I can detect sediment on my tongue. And I wouldn’t expect to be offered thin or cloudy wine by anyone who took their wine seriously.’

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