Читать книгу: «It Was Only a Kiss»
The most distracting boss of all…
For driven businessman Luke Savage success is the only option. So when gorgeous marketing intern Jess Sherwood waltzes into his office and casually informs him that his newly inherited vineyard has an image problem he’s outraged! She’s naive, overly ambitious, a know-it-all… And all Luke can do to stop her talking is kiss her senseless.
Eight years later the vineyard needs a boost—and Luke needs a hip new marketing strategy to save it. Jess may drive him crazy but she’s the right woman for the job. Their only problem is how to keep their minds on work and off that kiss!
IT WAS ONLY A KISS
Luke suppressed his smile at her stubbornness.
Within twenty-five meters those spiky heels would be stuck in mud and her stockings would be flecked with dirt.
Luke swung his leg over his bike and turned the key. He gave Jess another up-and-down look and watched for her response. Her expression remained stoic while her eyes heated. He wondered what it would take to get her to lose the mask of sophistication she’d acquired.
He leaned on the handlebars on his bike and spoke casually. “Do you ever think about what we did the last time we met?”
He didn’t need to spell it out…she was a smart girl. Luke watched carefully and saw her composure slip for a fraction of a second before her lips firmed and her eyes narrowed.
“No. Do you?”
“No,” Luke replied.
My, my, my, Luke thought as he pulled away. Look what good liars we’ve become.
It Was Only
a Kiss
JOSS WOOD
ABOUT JOSS WOOD
Joss Wood wrote her first book at the age of eight and has never really stopped. Her passion for putting letters on a blank screen is matched only by her love of books and traveling—especially to the wild places of Southern Africa—and possibly by her hatred of ironing and making school lunches.
Fueled by coffee, when she’s not writing or being a hands-on mum, Joss, with her background in business and marketing, works for a nonprofit organization to promote the local economic development and collective business interests of the area where she resides. Happily and chaotically surrounded by books, family and friends, she lives in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, with her husband, children and their many pets.
This and other titles by Joss Wood are available in ebook format—check out www.millsandboon.co.uk
For my children, Rourke and Tess,
who are all things bright and beautiful.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Excerpt
PROLOGUE
Eight years ago...
‘So, in conclusion, I think the marketing strategy your people presented to you is hackneyed, stupid and asinine, and pays absolutely no attention to your demographics, to the market research or to where your competitors are placing themselves. It’s under-researched and knocked together, and if you follow it I guarantee that you will lose most of your market share in five years’ time—if not your business.’
Luke Savage looked across his messy desk at the earnest young woman perched on the edge of her chair, her face animated with youthful zeal and a healthy dose of arrogance. What was her name again? He glanced down at the file in front of him. Jess Sherwood. She was twenty-two, he read, and was currently doing her MBA in Marketing. The file did state that she was over-blessed with brains—her school and university achievements were, to put it mildly, impressive—but it failed to mention that she was solidly gorgeous as well.
A true brown-eyed blonde.
She was quite a parcel and, boy, did she know it.
Luke kept his face impassive as she draped one long, slim leg over the other and lightly linked her hands around a bare knee, an index finger tapping away. She wore a short, flouncy dress, falling off one shoulder and showing a thin purple bra strap, and belted at slim hips by a broad leather belt. Falling to mid-thigh, it was too short, too casual, and too sexy an outfit for work—but she wore it with careless confidence.
Luke, who was seldom surprised at much, was taken aback by her self-importance and her balls-to-the-wall chutzpah. She’d been placed as an intern for the summer holidays, to gain work experience within St Sylve’s marketing department—his marketing department, since he’d recently inherited the generations-old family vineyard. She’d ambushed him as he’d been about to leave, barged into his office and said that she felt ‘morally obligated’—he curled his lip at the phrase—to tell him that his decisions sucked and his marketing plan was dreadful. And now she had the temerity to predict the failure of his business.
Her mobile rang and Luke hissed his annoyance as she dived for her bag and pulled out the phone, squinting at the display. She flashed him a wide smile that was charming but devoid of apology. ‘Sorry—I have to take this.’
Whatever—I’m just your boss. Why don’t I just wait while you finish arranging your social life?
He felt twenty years older than her, rather than six, and he probably was in experience. University was a dim and distant memory, clouded by the fourteen- to sixteen-hour days he’d been working for the past seven years.
Lately he’d felt perpetually exhausted, but if he’d had the energy he’d have got up and yanked her mobile from her ear and torn her a new one. Which he intended to do when she finished cooing into her mobile.
Her words rattled around his brain... You will lose most of your market...
Hell, he was losing St Sylve. It was failing... Not his fault or his failure, because failure wasn’t what he did—well, it wasn’t what he’d been allowed to do. Sport? He’d excelled at most. Academics? Scholarships and huge job offers had translated into his being able to set up his own company three years ago...one of the youngest venture capitalists in the country. Marriage? Okay, he’d dropped the ball on that one, but in a couple of weeks the divorce would be through and he’d be rid of the credit-card- digesting monster he’d married.
Now, if he could get this other creature out of his office without strangling her, he’d consider himself a saint.
Jess snapped her mobile closed, slipped it back into her bag and looked at him expectantly. Stuck-up, arrogant little witch.
Sexy, though....
Luke’s boots dropped from the corner of his desk to the floor and he stood up slowly, knowing that his face displayed none of his anger. As a child, living with his volatile, demanding father—his mother had died when he was three—he’d learnt early that showing emotion of any sort could be used against him, so he’d perfected his stoic mask.
He watched her through half-closed lids. She looked relaxed, leaning back in the chair, a small smile edging the corners of her very sexy mouth upwards. Give her a couple of years and she’d be hell on wheels...if she could keep her cocky opinions to herself.
‘Interesting perspective,’ Luke said mildly. He saw her mouth open to speak and lifted a finger to silence her. ‘If I cared.’
Mouth open but no words emerging...it was a start, Luke thought. Placing his hands on his desk, he leaned forward with a gesture that was meant to be intimidating and finally allowed her to see his fury. He felt marginally appeased when her eyes widened and she bit her bottom lip.
‘You arrogant, snotty child!’ He deliberately kept his voice even, knowing that harsh words delivered coldly had more of an effect than ranting and raving. ‘How dare you walk into my company and my office and presume to tell me what to do with my business and how to do it? Who the hell do you think you are?’ he suddenly roared, and Jess winced as his words bounced off the walls.
Jess lifted up her hands and he noticed that she didn’t look particularly scared. Hell, she didn’t look scared, period.
‘You don’t understand—’
‘What I understand is that you are a bright young thing who has always been told that she’s wonderful—clever and bright and talented. Pretty too. After so much unstinting admiration and affirmation, how could you think I wouldn’t want to hear the pearls of wisdom that fall so effortlessly from your lips?’
Jess jumped to her feet. ‘Luke, I—’
‘It’s Mr Savage to you! I’m your boss, not your friend! If you want to get anywhere you’d better bloody learn some humility and some respect! I have my own MBA, sunshine, and I’ve run a successful company for years. I have put in the sweat and tears and the work to earn the right to have an opinion. You haven’t!’
‘Stop yelling at me!’
Luke looked at her and shook his head. A part of him—okay, all his boy bits—thought she looked magnificent, with her heaving chest and wild eyes, fury staining her high cheekbones like the rasp of a lover’s beard. She looked furious, but not intimidated, and a part of him had to admire her courage.
A very small part of him.
‘It’s not my fault your marketing plan sucks! I’m just telling you that the St Sylve vineyard will suffer if you do not adjust your strategy!’
‘Because you say so?’
‘Yes! Because I’m damn good at this. I just know it won’t work!’
Luke rubbed a hand over his chin. ‘So, now you have a crystal ball as well? Can you tell me if I’m going to get skinned in my divorce or whether the price of oil will drop?’
‘Of course you will get skinned—that’s what happens when you marry a gold-digger! And, no, the oil price is going to keep climbing. The markets are too unstable at the moment to allow a drop,’ Jess replied.
Luke could not believe that she hadn’t picked up his sarcasm. ‘For someone who’s only been here a couple of months, you seem to be firmly plugged in to vineyard gossip.’
Jess sent him a cheeky grin. ‘Thank you.’
‘It wasn’t a compliment.’
‘I know.’
He was going to kill her. Luke stalked around the desk and gripped her slim shoulders with his much bigger hands. ‘I’m not sure whether to strangle you or smack you.’
Jess tossed her head of honey-coloured curls and looked up at him with bold and defiant brown eyes. A brown so deep it could almost be black.
‘You’re not the type to hit a woman.’ Jess lifted one shoulder and sent him a look that was as powerful as it was ageless. ‘And you’re just annoyed because you know I’m right.’
‘Annoyed? I’m way past annoyed and on my way to incandescently livid.’
Under his hands Jess lifted her shoulders. ‘But why? I’m just telling the truth.’
He was exasperated at her cheek, but he was even more furious because she had his blood pressure spiking and his pants jumping.
‘You are cheeky, conceited, smug and vain,’ Luke muttered as his lips edged their way down to hers. He could see the challenge in those eyes that held his...and as well as not tolerating failure, he also never backed away from a challenge.
Jess tipped her chin up and he could feel her breath on his lips. She felt slight and feminine in his arms, and while he knew that he was playing with fire he couldn’t let her go.
‘Then why are you going to kiss me?’
‘Because it’s either that or put you over my knee,’ Luke growled.
‘But you don’t like me,’ Jess stated.
‘God, how old are you? Attraction has nothing to do with liking someone.’
‘It should.’
‘You’re naïve.’
‘Kissing me would be a mistake,’ Jess whispered even as her lips lifted to his.
‘Too damn late.’
Electricity arced and thunder rolled as he yanked her slim frame into his solid chest, burrowing his hands into her hair to move her head so that he could deepen the angle of the kiss, could touch every corner of her sexy mouth with his tongue. His hand dropped to her lower back and he pulled her against him. His stomach swooped when he felt her hips against his, her small hands sneaking under his shirt to feel the skin of his back and shoulders.
He’d never been this hot this quickly for anyone. Luke closed his eyes as her quick tongue tasted his bottom lip, then tangled with his in a long, lazy slide. One hand held the back of her head and the other skimmed the side of her torso, its thumb sliding over the swell of her—
This had gone too far, Luke told himself. He had to stop this. Now.
Instead he ran the palms of his hands up the back of her silky-soft thighs and gripped her butt.
Holy hell, he thought as his hands encountered nothing but warm skin. Where were her panties...? Their kiss deepened and went from crazy to wild. He massaged her as he pulled her up against him and...oh, there it was. An ultra-thin strand of cotton. He traced his fingers upward and found the T of her thong, embellished with what seemed to be a fabric heart flat against her lower back. Luke hooked his thumb under the T and rubbed that gorgeous patch of skin. So soft, so smooth... He could snap the cord with a quick twist...
Luke wrenched himself away from her, sucked in a breath and hoped that she didn’t notice him gripping the edge of the desk for balance. She looked glorious, with her flashing eyes, swollen mouth and mussed hair. He could take her right now, right here in the late-afternoon sun.
It shook him how much he wanted to see her naked, sprawled across his desk, her body exposed to his hot gaze, her creamy skin flushed with pleasure.
Luke summoned up the last reserves of his self-control and slowly felt his self-restraint returning. When he felt his big brain had the edge over his little one, he stood up straight and wordlessly pointed to the door.
Jess nodded as she straightened her shirt. ‘Right—time for me to leave.’ She rocked on her heels, then dug in her tote bag and pulled out a large envelope which she placed on his desk. ‘A marketing strategy—an alternative to what you have now. Maybe we can discuss it another time?’
Un-frickin’-believable.
Had she heard anything he’d said before he’d kissed the hell out of her? Obviously not.
Luke shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
A tiny frown appeared between her arched brows. ‘Why not?’
Luke walked around his desk and flopped into his chair. ‘Because you’re fired. Pack up your stuff and get off my property. Immediately.’
ONE
Jessica
I seem to be missing one of my Shun knives. A boning and filleting knife. If you do not return it I’ll be forced to ask you to replace it as I bought it during our trip to the States. They retail for around 200 US dollars.
Grant
Jess Sherwood dropped her head as the e-mail on her screen winged its way to the deleted folder. Grant was smoking something very green and very strong if he thought that she had any intention of paying him another cent. Who had supported him and his extravagant lifestyle when he’d lost his job and while he’d struggled to get his fledgling catering business off the ground?
And, while she’d dished out the money and the sympathy, every day when she’d left for work he’d found something else to do. Or perhaps she should say someone else to do...the blonde living in the simplex opposite them.
Jerk.
The door to her office opened and Jess watched Ally enter, her iPad in her hand. Jess counted her blessings that her stunningly efficient office manager was also her best and most trusted friend.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ally asked, dropping into the chair opposite Jess.
Jess waved at her computer. ‘Grant. Again. Looking for something called a Shun knife. Um...what’s a Shun knife?’
Ally, well acquainted with Jess’s lack of culinary skills, smiled. ‘It’s a brand of expensive kitchen knives. Nice.’
‘Well, if I find it in my kitchen it’s yours,’ Jess said glumly.
‘What else is the matter?’ Ally placed her iPad on the desk.
Jess waved at her computer. ‘Grant’s trying to yank my chain.’
Ally’s bold red lips quirked. ‘Judging by the scowl on your face, I’d say “mission accomplished”.’
Jess wrinkled her nose. ‘He’s the larva that grows on the dung of...’
‘Yeah, yeah—heard it all before. It was over months ago, so why are you still so PO-ed?’
Jess rested her elbows on her desk and shoved her fingers into her hair, considering Ally’s question. It had been a year since Grant had lost his high-powered job as brand manager for a well-known clothing chain, and six months since she’d caught him in their bed with what’s-her-name with the stupid Donald Duck tattoo on her butt...
Since she’d been on top when Jess had walked into the bedroom the image was indelibly printed on her mind.
Okay, so the incident had also catapulted her back to that dreadful period in her teens when— No, she wasn’t going to think about that. It was enough to remember that she now knew the pain infidelity caused—first- and second-hand.
She was now wholly convinced that any woman who handed over emotional control to another person in the name of love had to be fiercely brave or terminally nuts.
She was neither.
‘Well?’ When Jess didn’t speak, Ally shook her head. ‘We’ve shared everything from pregnancy scares—yours—to one-night stands—mine—and everything in between, so talk to me, Jessica Rabbit.’
Jess managed a smile at her old nickname. ‘I’m angry, sure, but at myself as well as him. I’m livid that he managed to slip his affair under my radar—that I wasn’t astute enough to realise that he was parking his shoes under someone else’s bed.’
Ally stood up, walked over to the credenza and shoved two cups under the spout of Jess’s beloved coffee machine. After doctoring them both, Ally handed Jess her cup, put her back to the window and perched her bottom on the sill.
‘I spoke to Nick on my way to work.’ Jess couldn’t help the smile that drifted across her face. It was wonderfully good to have an open, relaxed relationship with her brother again, after years of him operating on the periphery of her life. ‘He’s so damn happy with Clem, and I know that they have something special. The last of my brothers—all of whom sowed enough wild oats to cover Africa—has settled down.’
‘And you’re wafting in the wind?’ Ally placed her hands on the windowsill behind her. ‘And that bothers you because it’s something your brothers have got right and you haven’t. Love is not a contest, Jess. Do you know what your problem is?’ Ally continued.
‘No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,’ Jess grumbled. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what she had to say...Ally seldom pulled her punches.
‘You raised the topic,’ Ally pointed out. ‘Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or the truth?’
‘That’s a rhetorical question, right?’ Jess took a deep breath. ‘Okay, I’ll take a brave-girl pill...hit me.’
‘One sentence: you’re so damned scared of being vulnerable that you try to control everything in a relationship.’
Hearing her earlier thought about control so eloquently explained floored Jess. Did her best friend know her or what?
‘Being single suits you and not being in love suits you even better.’
‘Can I change my mind and ask you to tell me what I want to hear?’ Jess protested. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear any more about her romantic failings.
‘To you, being in love means losing control—and to a control freak that is the scariest thing in the world.’
‘I am not a control freak!’ Jess retorted, heat in her voice.
Ally’s mouth dropped open. ‘You big, fat liar! You are all about control. That’s why you choose men you can control.’
‘You are so full of it.’ Jess sulked.
‘You know I’m right,’ Ally retorted.
This was the problem with good friends. They knew you better than you knew yourself, Jess grumbled silently. Deciding that Ally was looking far too smug, she decided to change the subject, vowing to give their conversation some more thought later.
Maybe.
If she felt like digging into her own psyche with a hand drill.
Right now they needed to work. She nodded to the iPad and listened and made notes as Ally updated her on the projects she wasn’t personally involved with. Jess gave her input and instructions and ran through some office-related queries.
They were concentrating on interpreting some tricky data from a survey when Jess’s PA put through a call from Joel Andersen, a much larger competitor whose company owned branches throughout Africa.
He was also one of the few people in the industry she liked and trusted.
Ally started to rise, but Jess shook her head and hit the speaker button. She would tell Ally about the call anyway, so she’d save herself the hassle. She and Joel traded greetings and Jess waited for him to get to the point. Joel, not one to beat around the bush, jumped right in.
‘I was wondering...what did you think about Luke Savage’s e-mail? I presume you’re going to his briefing session for the new marketing strategy he wants to implement for his winery? I thought that if we catch the same flight to Cape Town we could share a car to St Sylve.’
Jess’s heart did a quickstep as she tried to keep up with Joel. She sent a glance at her monitor; she most definitely had not received an e-mail from Luke Savage...
Not knowing what to think, she decided that the only thing she could do was to pump Joel for information. ‘So, what do you think?’
‘About St Sylve? He needs it... I heard that he commissioned market research with Lew Jones and is open to something new and hip. But with two hundred years of Savage wine-making history and tradition, that could backfire.’
She didn’t think so... She hadn’t eight years ago and she didn’t now. It was about time he looked at updating his marketing, Jess grumbled silently. Over the years she’d kept an eye on the vineyard and was saddened by its obviously diminishing market share. The advertising was dry, the labels boring and its promotion stuffy.
And, since she was the only one who’d ever hear it, she sent Luke Savage a silent I-told-you-so.
Jess widened her eyes at Ally, who was frowning in confusion. ‘My PA is just updating my iPad...what time was the briefing again?’ she lied.
‘Ten-thirty on Friday morning at the estate,’ Joel replied.
Bless his heart—he didn’t suspect a thing.
‘So, shall I have my PA look at flights?’
‘Uh...let me come back to you on that. I’ve been out for a day or two and haven’t quite caught up. I have clients in Cape Town to see, so I might fly in earlier,’ Jess fudged, and grimaced at Ally, who was now leaning forward, looking concerned.
‘Well, let me know,’ Joel told her before disconnecting.
Jess scrunched up her face. Damn Luke Savage and his injured pride. Her instinctive reaction was that the St Sylve campaign was hers—it had been hers eight years ago and it was still hers. There was no way she would allow another company to muck it up a second time...
Jess stood and placed her hands on her hips. ‘What do you know about St Sylve wines?’
Ally’s brown furrowed in thought. ‘The vineyard has produced some award-winning wines, but it hasn’t translated that into sales.’
It had taken a bit longer than Jess had thought, but her predictions about St Sylve had come true...and she felt sad. This was one of the few occasions when she would have been happy to be wrong...wished she was wrong. St Sylve was a Franschoek institution—one of the very few vineyards owned by the same family of French settlers who’d made their home in the valley in the early nineteenth century. She’d loved the three months she’d spent at the vineyard—had been entranced by the buildings, so typical of the architecture of the Cape Colony in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, with its whitewashed outer walls decorated with ornate gables and thatched roofs.
Apart from the main residence and guest house, the property still had its original cellar, a slave bell, stables and service buildings.
It also had Luke Savage, current owner, who’d fired her and kicked her off his property after kissing her senseless.
Jess quickly recounted her history with Luke to Ally, who was equally entertained and horrified. ‘He fired you?’
‘I deserved it. At twenty-two I thought I was God’s gift to the world,’ Jess replied.
Learning that she wasn’t had been painful, but necessary. While she hadn’t been wrong about the marketing of St Sylve—as she’d suspected, the campaign had been a dismal failure—she’d been arrogant, impulsive and rude, approaching him the way she had.
Jess paced the area in front of her desk. ‘As much as I hate to admit it, I owe Luke Savage a debt of gratitude for a major life lesson. I needed my wings clipped and to learn that being first in class, being able to regurgitate facts and figures from a textbook, means diddly-squat in the business world.’
Jess put her hands on her waist and looked at the ceiling. Then she sent Ally a rueful look. ‘We had this massive shouting match and then he kissed me. He was a dynamite kisser. A master of the art.’ She blew air into her cheeks. ‘The best ever.’
‘Ooh.’ Ally wiggled her bottom.
‘I don’t even know if I can call what happened between us kissing...it was too over-the-top outrageous to be labelled a simple kiss.’
But then Luke Savage had been anything but simple. Jess sighed. He’d been one long, tall slurp of gorgeousness: bold, deep green eyes, chocolate-cake-coloured hair, tanned skin. The list went on... Broad shoulders, slim hips and long, long legs...
‘Jess? Hello?’
Jess snapped her head up. ‘Sorry—mind wandering.’
‘He sounds delicious, but the question is...what are you going to do about St Sylve? Are you going to go to the briefing session?’
‘Without an invitation?’ Jess looked at the ceiling. ‘I’m tempted. I wish I could demand to implement a strategy for him.’ Images flashed through her head of possible advertisements. Her creative juices were flowing and she hadn’t even seen the brief yet. She really wanted to get stuck into dreaming up a new campaign for St Sylve.
But Luke was still the only man who’d ever short-circuited her brain when he kissed her...and if she was being sensible that was a really good reason not to work for him. She didn’t think she’d be very effective, constantly drooling over her keyboard.
‘Phone the guy and ask him!’ Ally demanded, and Jess managed a smile.
‘Not an option. We didn’t get off on the right foot.’ Jess held up her hand at Ally’s protest.
Why did her stomach feel all fluttery, thinking about him? It had been so long ago...but the thought of seeing him again made her jittery and...hot.
She didn’t want to get involved. She liked being single. She wanted to play on the edges of the circle and keep it all on the surface.
Why did even the thought of Luke feel like a threat to that?
Jess shook her head, utterly bewildered. Where on earth had that left-of-centre thought barrelled in from? Sometimes she worried herself, she really did...
* * *
Luke Savage sat on one of the shabby couches on the wide veranda of his home, propped his battered boots on an equally battered oak table and heaved a sigh. He lifted his beer bottle to his lips and let the icy liquid slide down his dusty throat.
He opened his eyes and watched as the sun dipped behind the imposing Simonsberg Mountain—one of a couple of peaks that loomed over the farm. As the sun dropped, so did the temperature, so he pulled on his leather-and-wool bomber jacket.
‘I take it you saw the monthly financials for St Sylve?’ Kendall said eventually.
‘We’re still not breaking even.’ Luke sat up and placed his forearms on his thighs, let his beer bottle dangle from his fingers. ‘I can’t keep ploughing money into this vineyard. At some stage it has got to become self-sustaining,’ Luke added when his two closest friends said nothing.
Kendall de Villiers shook a head covered in tight black curls. His dark eyes flashed and his normally merry creme-caramel face tightened. ‘We know that your father sucked every bit of operating capital out of this business before he died and left you with a massive overdraft and huge loans. You’ve paid off the lion’s share of those loans—’
‘With money I made on other deals—not from the vineyard bank accounts,’ Luke countered. Kendall knew his businesses inside and out; he was not only his accountant and financial analyst, but a junior partner in his venture capitalist business.
‘The wines we produce are good,’ Owen Black said in his laid-back way.
Luke wasn’t fooled by his dozy, drawling voice. Owen was one of the hardest-working men he’d ever come across. As farm manager, responsible for the vines and the olives, the orchards and the dairy, he got up early and went to bed late. Just as he did.
‘You’ve won some top awards over the last few years, including Wine Maker of the Year,’ Owen continued.
‘It means nothing if we’re not selling the bottles,’ Luke retorted. ‘Our wines aren’t moving—not from the cellar here, and not from the wine shops.’
When both his friends didn’t reply, Luke twisted his lips and said what they were obviously thinking. ‘Because our marketing strategy sucks. It’s boring and old-fashioned and aimed at anyone standing in God’s waiting room.’ Luke leaned back and popped a cushion behind his head. ‘Why didn’t I see it before?’
Because a smart-mouthed girl once told me it was so and I was too full of offended pride to listen to her. And because I had so much else on my plate. I figured I could let it slide for a while... Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The Savage tradition of ‘letting the wine speak for itself’ was being drowned out by the splashy campaigns and eye-catching labels of their competitors. But Luke hadn’t changed it because tradition was everything at St Sylve.
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