No Ordinary Fortune. Judy DuarteЧитать онлайн книгу.
she was here and on the cover story she’d concocted.
“I’m glad the temp agency was able to get ahold of you,” he said. “And that you were available to help out this evening. You’re a lifesaver.”
Okay, so he clearly thought she was someone else. Did she dare correct him? Or should she let the mix-up play out?
“Have you ever poured wine at a tasting before?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t.” How hard could it be? “But don’t worry about my lack of experience. I’m a fast learner.”
“Consider this more of a cocktail party, only the drink options are various vintages from the Mendoza Winery. We have a lot of important and influential people attending, and your job will be to make our wines look good.”
Schuyler was no stranger to parties or the nightlife. Why not play along and assume the temporary gig? It would be a fun way to get her foot in the door with the Mendozas.
“This particular tasting will be held at the Monarch Hotel,” Carlo added. “It rained for the last several days, but the weather is on our side today, so we’re going to have it outdoors in the garden.”
“Sounds like a perfect venue.” Schuyler wasn’t the least bit familiar with Austin, so she didn’t have a clue where that might be or what to expect from the outdoor setting, but she pasted on a big no-worries, I’ve-got-this smile.
He scanned the length of her from the top of her head to her strappy black heels and back again. “You look great, but I’ll have to get you something else to wear.”
“What’d you have in mind?” She slapped her hands on her hips, shifted slightly to the right and taunted him with a playful grin. “A French maid’s costume?”
His brow furrowed, which only lent a serious but more gorgeous air about him. “No, I meant something classy. There’s a women’s clothing shop just down the street. I’m sure they’re still open, so we can stop there.”
A smile tugged at her lips. Who would have guessed that it might come in handy to have those clothes from the dry cleaners still hanging in the back seat of her car?
“Actually,” she said, “you’re in luck. I happen to have an outfit with me. That is, if a black cocktail dress will work.”
“That’s great. Now just one last question. Do you have any experience with wine?”
“Other than drinking my share of it?” She laughed.
When he frowned, clearly not finding any humor in her response, she added, “I’m no connoisseur, but I’m not a novice, either. I know the difference between a cabernet sauvignon and a merlot. And while I don’t have a wine cellar, I do keep several nice bottles at home. Also, my old college roommate’s family owns an Italian villa that’s surrounded by vineyards, and I spent a couple of summers there.”
Finally, his expression softened, and he smiled. “You’re going to work out perfectly.”
Schuyler thought so, too. That is, as long as the temp agency didn’t get in the way by sending someone else and blowing her chance to prove herself as the lifesaver he’d claimed she was.
Feeling a bit heroic, she strode to her BMW with a spring in her step. After unlocking the passenger door, she reached for the cocktail dress protected in plastic and hanging from the hook above the rear passenger window. She’d no more than clicked the lock button on the remote when she heard someone clear his throat.
She turned to see who it was, only to spot a silver fox and four dark-haired men, all handsome as heck and standing in an office doorway. She assumed they were related to Carlo, since they all clearly bore a family resemblance.
The older man standing front and center grinned and asked, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to the lady, mijo?”
“Sorry,” Carlo said. “Dad, this is Schuyler Fortunado, the model the temp agency sent as a replacement. She’s going to be our hostess this evening.”
The dashing older man offered a flirtatious grin. “I’m Esteban Mendoza, Ms. Fortunado, the father of this tribe.” Then he introduced the younger men as Mark, Rodrigo, Chaz and Stefan.
Each of the Mendoza brothers was attractive in his own right. That is, if you liked the tall, dark and handsome type. Even Esteban had a debonair, heart-strumming appeal.
The DNA gods had been good to this family, and Schuyler was in her glory. Just look at the collection of hunks she’d stumbled upon. If she had to choose, she’d say that Carlo was the pick of the bunch. Either way, she’d never met a male—young or old—she couldn’t charm. She was definitely going to enjoy her investigative work.
“Now that you’ve met my family,” Carlo said, “let’s check out the setting for tonight’s event. It’s a short walk to the Monarch Hotel, where we’ve set up the tasting. Come with me.”
That wasn’t going to be a problem. Schuyler would gladly follow the Latin hottie anywhere.
Just twenty minutes ago, the sun had disappeared into a kaleidoscope of color on the western horizon. All the while, Carlo stood next to a magnolia tree adorned with white lights and watched this evening’s tasting unfold the way he’d planned it.
Several waiters, supplied by the hotel, carried trays of appetizers and moved about the garden, offering the smiling chefs and restaurant owners a variety of crackers, gourmet cheeses and hors d’oeuvres specially prepared to enhance the taste of the vintages being served. But it was the lovely blonde hostess pouring wine and entertaining the culinary experts with both her charm and wit who’d captured Carlo’s full attention.
He must have caught hers, too, because every now and again, Schuyler looked across the garden, her blue eyes sparkling, and offered him a confident smile. Then she returned to her work.
She was a born hostess, it seemed, and he thanked his lucky stars the other woman had had to cancel tonight.
Just look at her. She rocked that curve-hugging dress she’d had hanging in her car. It was sexy, but not overly revealing. Classy, but still within the right man’s reach.
But it was more than her outfit and pretty face that he found appealing. She had a natural effervescence, a confident demeanor, as well as an uptown style. And as a result, she’d done a good job of convincing the attendees that they should stock up on the best wines they’d ever tasted.
Schuyler flashed the label of a bottle of Mendoza zinfandel at the people gathered at her table, then poured them each a generous taste. Soft jazz played in the background, but it didn’t drown out the sound of approaching footsteps.
Carlo glanced over his shoulder and spotted his father moving toward him.
“Looks like another successful tasting,” the older man said.
“You’re right. We’ve had several significant orders already. And once this group goes back to their fine-dining establishments, word about our wines will spread.”
“And what about Schuyler? How’s our temporary hostess working out?”
“A lot better than the last woman the temp agency sent us.” She was prettier, too, which was why Carlo had been studying her with more than just business on his mind. He liked a woman with a playful side, especially since that usually meant she wouldn’t expect a long-term commitment.
Carlo had already experienced a failed marriage and wasn’t about to make that mistake again. He was too much like his father, he supposed.
“I’m proud of you, mijo. You put a lot of work into this evening, and it shows.”
“Thanks.” Carlo had never lacked confidence, at least not in the business world. Still, his father’s