10. Mackenzie
Mackenzie
I’ve always thought this restaurant would be perfect for a romantic dinner.
They’re not particularly busy, and the hostess seats us in a corner table, which is private and welcoming.
The rain slants against the window pane, but wonderful aromas come from the kitchen, making it feel cozy.
Jake gives me a simmering look as the waitress tells us about the specials, and when she leaves, it seems like there isn’t enough oxygen in Havelock for me to be with this man.
And what are we doing exactly? Another hook-up? A date? Is the fling moving to a thing? I have no idea. The only certainty is that there’s nowhere else I want to be.
His gaze lingers on me, a definite (and welcome) heat in his eyes, then he leans a little closer, dropping his voice. “I love your dress,” he murmurs and I flush right to my toes. “Although I think the other one would take the honours.”
“Because of the colour?”
“Evening wear.” He catches his breath and smiles, one hand over his heart. “There’s nothing like drop-dead glamour to start an evening off right.”
“Could I make it up to you by speaking French?”
His eyes flare. “Save that for later, please.”
I will.
The waitress brings the wine and we defer to each other as to who should taste, then when I insist, he does.
“No pressure,” he murmurs so that only I can hear him, and it’s true, I’m watching.
He performs the little ritual flawlessly and I’m already sure the cork is good.
The waitress pours two glasses after he nods approval and leaves us to it.
Jake lifts his hands, inviting my feedback.
“Nine,” I say and he pretends to be wounded. “Perfect theatrics, but I’m not sure you really sipped.”
“I didn’t. Not really. It smelled fruity and there was no sediment in the glass. I trusted the brand.” I smile and he studies me. “How did you know?”
“As a perennial sipper, I know the signs.”
“Come on,” he invites. “Dish.”
“Your throat didn’t work.” I swallow and he watches my throat so intently that I feel a flush start somewhere around my navel. It certainly has gotten warm in here. We toast each other and sip, and he’s still watching my throat.
“A perennial sipper. How does that work?”
“I drink very little, actually. I taste. I sip.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t like wine?”
“Love it, but I also like being sober. I had a mentor who showed me how to sip so that one glass lasted an entire evening.” I smile in memory.
“She was French and blunt and told me that if I drank all the wine, I’d be fat before I was forty.
At sixty she could probably have fit into the clothes she had at eighteen. ”
“No spitting, then.”
I wince. “That’s disgusting.”
“And a waste of good wine.”
“Right. If it’s still in the bottle, someone else can enjoy it.”
“Maybe we should have ordered a half-bottle.”
“Aren’t you the finance guy?” I tease. “It’s better for Rhodes Vineyards that we order a full one whether we finish it or not. As a responsible employee and shareholder, I wouldn’t suggest otherwise.”
That makes him smile. “I didn’t expect you to dress up.” His eyes light. “But I’m glad you did.”
“You expected me to take a client out for dinner in my work clothes?” I choose my words deliberately to remind him of our cover story. There’s no telling who’s listening.
“I didn’t think about it, actually.” He sips and watches me.
“Sorry but I didn’t do it for you.” I lean across the table, and this time I’m the one lowering my voice. “I did it so we’d match.”
Jake doesn’t know what I mean, that’s clear, but he waits for me to explain.
“I knew you wouldn’t have a chance to change and I’d seen what you were wearing. Very upmarket for Havelock.”
“Armor,” he says as the waitress brings our salads. I watch as he eases the cherry tomatoes to one side of his plate, his move so smooth that I know it’s a habit.
“If I dressed down, we wouldn’t match.”
“Does that matter?”
“People notice it, and that makes them speculate on why we might not look as if we belong together.”
“Ah. And when they speculate…”
“They take another look. And then someone says ‘hey, isn’t that Mackenzie Rhodes?’ and then someone else tries to figure out who you are, and before we know it, I’m being asked about the state of our relationship the minute I walk into work tomorrow morning.” I take a bite of salad.
“Thereby violating the Mackenzie Rhodes code of conduct for dating in Empire.”
“That there is no dating in Empire, yes.”
“This way, I’m clearly a client and this is business.”
“Exactly.”
“You dressed for your part before I even knew the script.”
“You seem to be a quick learner.”
He gives me a piercing look. “Are people really that bored?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder I don’t miss the place.”
“And you’re headed back to the city tomorrow?” I ask, just as the waitress circles by to check on us.
“Yes,” Jake says easily. “I’ll have to work the weekend to make up for my time down here, though. There are reports due.” He smiles. “There are always reports due.” Then he smoothly changes the subject. “This is a good salad. I like the arugula in it.”
“But not the tomatoes.”
He laughs. “No, I have a kind of allergy to them.”
“Imagine that.”
Our gazes meet again as the waitress comes for the salad plates. “You were explaining your plans for that new plot of land,” he says and I nod agreement.
“Yes, we’ll be planting Vidal vines there, so we can add ice wine to our offerings.”
“My dessert chef is fond of ice wine,” Jake lies so smoothly that even I believe him. “How long will it be before you have it available? I like to consolidate my purchases, so the more products you offer that we serve, the better for both of us.”
I talk about ice wine while the waitress brings out mains and Jake nods with interest.
When she leaves the table, Jake lifts his glass. “Let’s drink to our newfound and mutual understanding.” He’s not talking about wine for his fictional chain of boutique hotels and we both know it.
I raise my glass to his toast and take more than my usual sip, holding his gaze the whole time. I swear the restaurant is getting hotter by the minute.
I’m wearing more than a great dress and I can’t wait to see how Jake responds to the rest.
We don’t eat in silence, thank God. In fact, conversation flows easily. I think it’s because we cleared up details in advance. We both know what’s going to happen and we both want the same result. All good.
We talk about politics briefly, the weather and even the general state of the world. I think we’re going to avoid all personal topics, sticking to the plan of a casual fling with no ongoing connections, but Jake proves me wrong.
“Tell me about working in the family business,” he invites.
“Why?”
“Because I’m curious that you chose to do so.” He shakes his head. “Nothing could have induced me to stay on at my family firm.”
“But I thought you were going to work with Mike?” I think I’ve spilled the beans, revealing what Sylvia shared when I shouldn’t have done so, and wish I’d bitten my tongue.
Jake, though, isn’t troubled. “That’s a consulting deal. I’ll flit in and out, and help him to get things done. I’m not moving back here.”
“You don’t want to be trapped by the family firm and your obligations there.”
“Pretty much.” He considers me and sips his wine. “I was thinking we have some traits in common, so I’m intrigued that you made the opposite choice.”
“What do we have in common?”
“Neither of us is stupid.”
“Agreed.”
“We’re both ambitious and take pride in our work.”
“Yes.”
“We probably both work too much in pursuit of those ambitions.”
“And in the interest of doing anything right, if it’s going to be done at all.”
This time, he nods agreement. “When you’re ambitious and competent, a bigger field offers more opportunities.”
I nod, understanding his question. “But a smaller forum offers more opportunity to diversify and less need to prove yourself first.”
His gaze flicks. “Tell me.”
“We are a small to mid-sized vineyard, depending on who is setting the parameters. I am officially the viticulture manager, but I do a lot of other things besides manage the cultivation. I take point on many marketing initiatives, for example, and I really enjoy that. Not only that, but talking to people at tastings, for example, gives me some unofficial consumer research. I get a feel for what people are liking or how their tastes are changing, and that, I think, helps me to make better decisions for the firm.”
“At a larger outfit, you’d either be in the office all day, every day, or in the fields all the time,” he guesses and I nod.
“But because I do the tastings, particularly those at outside locations, like The Carpe Diem Café, I notice trends as they’re starting.
I have to verify them, of course, and look for more data points, but that means I have specific questions for the sales and marketing team.
Once we gather all of that information, we can make better choices, and that influences our direction in oenology. ”
“Oenology?” he says the word with care.
“Winemaking. We can blend sweeter or less sweet. We can aim for reds that are bigger or have more tannin or choose to oak wines to add to their dimensionality. Tastes change all the time, so I love talking to customers and listening to their reactions.”
“But you wouldn’t have even known to ask those questions without the broader range of your responsibilities.” Jake nods. “That makes sense. Are there tangible results?”
“Yes! I noticed that people were skewing to sweeter wines again this year, which was doubly confirmed at The Carpe Diem Café. Merrie’s place is a great resource for me, as foodies come from a long distance to eat there.
It’s tremendous to have a group of tastemakers and influencers so close at hand, plus it’s a totally different crowd than those who come to the vineyard for tastings. ”
I like that Jake doesn’t interrupt me. He’s listening intently and just giving me space. No mansplaining here, no crap about him knowing my job better than I do. In fact, he looks fascinated.