Grapes of Wrath (Billionaires' Secrets Book 2) Read online

  Right now, she felt guilty eating their food and enjoying their hospitality. What if Tarrant Hardcastle was right, and she was about to show them all that Amado was the illegitimate product of a casual affair?

  Amado buttoned his shirt and slicked his hair back with a comb. He had a bizarre sensation of going into battle.

  Susannah Clarke was here to impugn his mother’s name. Of course, the idea that his mother had an affair was preposterous, so he wasn’t afraid of the test results. Still, his cheerful mood had evaporated.

  So, she’d slept with him for purely practical purposes. Why did that bother him? He’d slept with her for his own reasons, which admittedly were far less complicated.

  Had no idea what he was getting into, either. He’d never met a woman like this. So cool and composed on the outside, so fiery and abandoned in his bed. Fascinating.

  Then this morning she confronted him with that prim smile. Reminded him that last night’s enjoyment was simply part of a cold-blooded business deal for her.

  Irritation spiked in his gut as he buckled his belt. Still, he was a man of honor, and he’d made a promise.

  He heard her moving about in the guest bedroom, and he entered without knocking. “My body is yours to do with as you like.”

  She dropped whatever she was packing in her bag and looked up. She looked nervous, so slender and delicate in her long black dress.

  He cocked his head. “Did I startle you?”

  She blinked and swallowed. Nervous. “I’m just getting my things together.”

  “I can see that. So what’s the plan? You extract my bodily fluids and head back to New York with them?” His eyes narrowed as a nasty thought crept over his brain. “Or did you already take what you were looking for?”

  Susannah swallowed. “No! I didn’t take anything.” She colored. “There’s a lab in Mendoza that can process the test. It would be best if you come there with me so they can take the sample themselves. That way there’s less risk of contamination, and you’ll be sure that no one, you know, tampered with...”

  She trailed off and tucked an imaginary lock behind her ear. A strange gesture since her long dark hair was secured in a tight chignon. Her dress buttoned to her neck and flared from the waist almost to her ankles.

  She looked every inch the prudish missionary’s daughter.

  Touch me not.

  But he knew better.

  “So you want me to accompany you into Mendoza?”

  “Well, I’d imagine you’d need to bring your own car...”

  “So you don’t have to drive me home again.” He tilted his head. “You think of all the details.”

  “And actually,” her hands trembled as she struggled with the zipper of her bag, “I ran out of gas on my way here so, I’m afraid I’ll need some before I can go anywhere.”

  Amado crossed his arms. “It appears that once again you are at my mercy. Lucky thing I’m a gentleman.” A wicked smile crept over his lips. “At least some of the time.”

  Her lips parted and she looked like she wanted to protest. He shouldn’t toy with her this way. She was obviously rather innocent and unschooled when it came to men, and she didn’t deserve to be teased.

  Still, she had slept with him. She was a grown-up. She knew what she was doing.

  And now they both knew she had a wild side.

  That intrigued him more than he could say. What other secrets hid beneath that that cool and demure exterior?

  Since Amado didn’t fancy cramming himself into her tiny rental car, they took his Mercedes sedan and arranged for one of his employees to drive her car back to town and meet him later.

  During the drive, they talked easily about the area and its history and Amado’s family. He got a strong sense that she didn’t believe he was this Hardcastle man’s son, either.

  “Will your boss be upset when you don’t bring back the results he’s expecting?”

  “I can’t see how he could be. Honestly, I don’t know anything about how they’re finding people or what they want. I do know he’s dying, though.”

  “From what?”

  “Prostate cancer. He wouldn’t mind me telling you. He and his wife have been active in trying to encourage people to get tested and seek treatment early. He says he ignored his symptoms for too long because he thought he was invincible.”

  Amado frowned. The illness made this foreign stranger seem more real to him. “Is he suffering?”

  “I’d imagine so. No one wants to die.” She looked out the window, to where the Andes rose in the distance. “This quest to find his lost children is keeping him going, from what I hear. It’s become a passion for him.”

  “But why does he want to find them?”

  “I think he wants to confront his past mistakes, or failings, or something. Face up to them before he dies.”

  “So he thinks I’m one of his past mistakes?” Amado couldn’t help laughing.

  “It does sound rude, put like that. He’s very rich, though. I suspect he wants to leave some of his vast fortune to them.”

  She looked at him with those dark, perceptive eyes. Studying him for signs of greed?

  Fifteen years ago, even five years ago, money might have been welcome as he tried to bring the estancia up to modern methods of production. The construction of the state-of-the-art winery had involved large and complicated loans.

  But now the vineyard was humming and prosperous.

  The last of the debts had been paid three years ago and they were seeing comfortable profit margins.

  “I don’t want his money or anyone else’s. Unless they’re buying my wine, of course.”

  For most of the drive, though, they didn’t talk about Tarrant Hardcastle at all. Susannah seemed enchanted by the beauty of the region. Once in the city, she marveled at the open ditches bringing water down from the mountains to irrigate the many trees and fountains. Amado explained the technique had been in use by the Huarpe people when the Spanish settlers first arrived, and it was the same system of aquecias that made lush vineyards possible today despite the low annual rainfall.

  The lab was on a quiet side street. Amado could tell Susannah was jittery as they pulled into a parking space. She laughed and exclaimed as he led her over one of the neat ditches that lined the city sidewalks. What did she stand to gain or lose from all of this?

  For her, it was a purely professional matter. However the results came out, she’d done her duty and could wash her hands of the situation.

  Of him.

  His muscles tightened with an uncomfortable mixture of irritation and longing. It infuriated him that she could spend the night with him—and such a night—then just walk away.

  She spoke quietly to the person behind the counter, prim and proper in her black dress with its row of buttons down the back.

  He couldn’t help wanting to unbutton them, one by one, and expose her smooth, olive skin. To lick the delicate bumps of her spine and layer soft kisses over her waist...

  He shoved a hand through his hair. No sense getting all worked up. He wasn’t required to donate sperm.

  “Come this way.” A uniformed nurse—or someone dressed like a nurse—ushered them through a door behind the reception desk. This whole situation gave him the creeps.

  Who knew what they were going to do with his private biological information? Maybe he’d end up accused of some crime or discover he carried the gene for a terminal illness.

  “Sit here, sir.”

  He lowered himself into the plastic chair and held his head high as the nurse stuck a long cotton swab into this mouth and rubbed it against his cheek. “All done.”

  “That’s it?” he asked, adrenaline pumping.

  That’s all it took to change a life? To ruin it, even? It didn’t seem right.

  Still, he knew what the results would say. No reason to worry.

  He looked at Susannah, slim and lovely and nervous as a hungry cat, twisting her fingers and toying with the skirt of her dress.
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br />   The nurse left the room with the sample.

  Amado didn’t take his eyes off Susannah. “Let’s go eat lunch.”

  “I should head for the airport. I need to get back to New York.”

  So easy for her to just leave. Clearly, leaving was part of her modus operandi in life. Dust off her hands, and move on.

  He wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. “You can’t go until we have the results.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I might pay off the lab to get the results I want.” He narrowed his eyes.

  “You couldn’t. They have a stellar reputation.”

  He cocked his head. “Any man, or woman...has their price.” He glanced meaningfully at the door. Which opened to admit the brisk blond nurse.

  “All under way. We should have results in five days.”

  “Five days?” Amado rose to his feet, almost knocking over the chair.

  “That’s our minimum period of time for accurate analysis.” The nurse shuffled a stack of papers. “We’ll call and let you know when the results are in.”

  Amado glared at Susannah. She was heading back to her ordinary life and leaving him to deal with the fallout from the tests. Resentment tangled with unspent desire in his chest.

  “What time is your plane?”

  “I’ll take the first plane I can board to Santiago, Chile. My flight for New York leaves from there tonight.” Susannah followed the nurse out the door into the waiting area.

  “You had your ticket booked the whole time? You must have been very sure of getting your sample.”

  The nurse glanced back at him. Most likely she thought Susannah was collecting his DNA to prove paternity of their child. It rankled him that anyone could think of him as the kind of cad who’d dispute such a thing.

  “I was hopeful.” Susannah avoided his glance as she thanked the receptionist and paid by credit card.

  Of course, she couldn’t have suspected he’d persuade her to sleep with him.

  Could she?

  A growing sense of panic gripped Susannah as Amado pulled into a parking space at the airport.

  He lifted her suitcase from the trunk. “You’ll come back when the new Malbec is ready?” He looked toward the terminal as if he didn’t care one way or the other.

  Likely it would be an inconvenience for him if she came back. Awkward and embarrassing. He’d have enjoyed several more encounters with visiting females by then. Possibly he’d have forgotten her.

  She didn’t want to look like she cared, either.

  “I’d love to, but I’m afraid it depends upon my schedule. I have a series of trips to Europe and South Africa over the upcoming months.”

  She did her best to sound businesslike, talking about Tierra de Oro’s projected production and Hardcastle’s possible orders. Of course, she had no idea if any of it would come to fruition. Likely the DNA test and its resultant emotional fall out would determine Tarrant’s order one way or the other.

  Did she regret what she’d done?

  A little. She had a strange sense of having unleashed a genie. Exciting but scary.

  Amado’s dark eyes still shone with desire. No doubt her own did, too.

  Desire wasn’t something you could control. You could choose not to act on it, but you couldn’t make it go away.

  If you did act on it, you could end up like Tarrant Hardcastle with a host of unplanned children and a lifetime of complications.

  Misgivings tightened her muscles. She had a strange feeling she’d never forget her night with Amado. How would she feel now, alone in her bed, tormented by memories of intimacy and passion she could never have imagined?

  At the security check-in, he held her face between his hands and kissed her full on the mouth. Arousal kicked through her as his tongue danced with hers right there in line at the ticket counter, surrounded by the swirling, impatient crowds.

  Don’t think you’ll get off so easy, his kiss seemed to say.

  Her mouth throbbed as he pulled back. Her stomach clenched and she wobbled on her heels.

  Triumph glittered in Amado’s eyes. Then he frowned. “You’ll call me with the results?”

  A cool shiver crept down her spine. “I suspect someone from Tarrant’s office will call you. I don’t usually have anything to do with his private business. I’m just here as an envoy.”

  “An envoy of distressing news. You’re brave.”

  “Or desperate to keep my job.” She attempted levity. “You can’t say no to Tarrant Hardcastle. I doubt they’ll even tell me the results.”

  Amado’s frown deepened. “I’ll tell you.”

  That reassurance of future contact made her heart swell. The thought of just.. .leaving and never seeing him again was too grim to contemplate.

  She was sure he’d call her to laugh and joke if the result was what he hoped for.

  But if it wasn’t?

  Susannah pretended to fumble with her ticket as Amado turned and strode away. She couldn’t help turning to catch a last glimpse of him as he disappeared through the door.

  So tall and proud and strong, his passion evident in everything he did. His connection to the estate and his family so deep as to be unquestionable.

  She chewed a manicured fingernail and hoped like hell that Tarrant was wrong.

  Chapter Seven

  Susannah’s heart thundered as she climbed the wide, polished stairs to the El Cubano cigar bar on Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue. One week had passed since her return from Argentina, and Tarrant Hardcastle had summoned her to his exclusive watering hole to thank her for retrieving— his word—Amado’s DNA.

  She had no idea what the results were. But would he ask her here if the trip had been a waste of time?

  She gave her coat to the stunning coat-check girl and followed the maitre d’ into the hushed space. The lack of cigar smoke surprised her, since men sat all around, sunk deep into leather chairs, with expensive bundles of rolled leaves burning in their hands.

  On the far side of the room they reached the imposing backs of a pair of chairs arranged in front of a window. The leather thrones enjoyed a spectacular view over Fifth Avenue.

  “Mr. Hardcastle, your guest has arrived.”

  Susannah sucked in a smoke-free breath as her boss rose and greeted her. Even rows of white teeth shone in his tanned face.

  He was disturbingly youthful-looking for sixty-seven, in a way that could not be entirely natural.

  Everything about the man was frightening.

  She tried not to wince or fall over as he kissed her on both cheeks. An extravagant gesture of greeting for a boss she barely saw.

  “Thank you, my dear.” His blue-green eyes glittered with emotion.

  Uh-oh.

  “Thank you for finding my son.”

  Susannah’s mouth fell open and her stomach plummeted.

  “He is your son?” she rasped.

  “Ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain. It doesn’t get more definite than that.” He gestured at the plush leather armchair opposite his. “Sit.”

  Susannah practically fell into it.

  Tarrant summoned a waiter with a wave of his hand.

  “Tell me about him, my dear. My son, what is he like?” A beaming smile lit his tanned face as he settled back into his chair.

  Amado isn’t the son of Ignacio Alvarez. His mother had an affair.

  The reality of the situation chilled her blood. How had Amado reacted? How had his parents reacted? He hadn’t called her with the news, as he’d promised. She’d scanned her phone daily for any trace of a missed message or text.

  “He’s nice,” she stammered. “Very smart.”

  Tarrant waved his hand impatiently. “Does he look like me?”

  Susannah frowned. “You both have strong features. I can see a resemblance around the nose and cheekbones. He’s darker, though, with dark eyes and hair.”

  Tarrant smiled. “Like my son Dominic. I never could resist the allure of a dark young beauty, back then.�
�� Susannah tried not to recoil. Tarrant’s steady gaze made her uncomfortably conscious of her own dark coloring. She so did not want to think about Tarrant’s sexual exploits of thirty-odd years ago.

  It was downright hard to imagine Clara Alvarez being a beauty, dark or otherwise. And didn’t she have blue eyes like Tarrant?

  “His mother was such a stunner. Sharp as a cracked whip and with a fire that...” He blew out a breath and shook his head.

  “Clara is well and healthy, too.”

  “Clara?” Tarrant sipped a clear drink. Martini probably. “Who’s that?”

  “Amado’s mother.”

  Tarrant put his drink down. “Amado’s mother is dead.”

  A chill crept up her spine. “But I met her.”

  “Hardly. I was called to identify the body.”

  Susannah swallowed hard. Her blood seemed to stop flowing. “But he called her ‘mother.’”

  “I don’t know who the heck Clara is, but his real mother was Marisa Alvarez and she died giving birth to her son.” He tapped his cigar. “Tragic. The whole situation was a nightmare.”

  Susannah blinked, unable to make sense of it.

  Amado very definitely believed himself to be the son of Clara and Ignacio Alvarez. Now he wasn’t related to either of them?

  Tarrant studied the end of his cigar. “My son, Amado, will unfortunately not return my calls.”

  “How did he learn the news?”

  “My daughter Fiona managed to get him on the phone long enough to share the happy news, but he hung up on her. She’s not terribly subtle, but I had hoped that the blood ties would—”

  He let out a long sigh. “I’m truly impressed that you managed to coax him into providing a sample.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re a quiet one, and I can tell there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

  Susannah shrank into her chair, feeling guilty.

  “So I need you to go back to Argentina and bring my son home.”

  Icy shock rushed over her. Back to Tierra de Oro? “You want me to bring him to New York?”

  “I need to meet him. To show him the business. To welcome him to his place in it.”