Page 16 of Third Time’s a Charm

Fuck a duck.

We haven’t even left my street and I’m swiping my hand across my chin to make sure I’m not drooling. What the hell was I thinking, suggesting a road trip? We could have flown to Adelaide and just done the South Australian wineries. But no. I wanted to show him the quaint, quirky and incredibly talented little wineries along the way.

I wanted him to fall as much in love with the Australian wine industry as I am.

Now I’m stuck in a car with flexing biceps. And thighs. And strong, capable hands. Not to mention a heady aftershave that renders the new car smell useless.

And who am I kidding? He’s not going to fall in love. The best I can hope for is a belief that my programme could maybe, possibly work.

I fold my lips in on themselves in a desperate attempt not to babble. The last thing I want is for him to clock that I’m nervous.

As the already busy Sydney streets sail past the windows, I give myself a good talking-to.

There is no planet on which a man like Jasper Spencer-Jones would have any interest in me. Even if you take out the fact that he’s my boss’ boss’ boss, he’s way out of my league. He’s sophisticated and urbane and, as I’ve observed this week, more than a little stuffy.

Physically, he might be my type. Let’s face it, physically he’s everybody’s type. But I would prefer someone with the ability to smile. Make the occasional joke. Express the odd human emotion. So far, I’ve not seen a lot of evidence Jasper is capable of any of those things. Maybe he hasn’t moved far from the reticent teen I crushed on, but surely I have?

I just have to get through this trip without saying or doing something to embarrass myself.

Stick to business, Louise. Stick to business. That’s the mantra I have to keep repeating.

And maybe remember not to drink the wines. Just taste and spit. Oh, God. I know spitting is the right thing to do, but who ever looked sophisticated spitting out wine?

Argh. I don’t need to look sophisticated. I need to look professional. And in control. Which means no swallowing. Shit. Now I’m thinking about the other kind of swallowing. What the hell is wrong with me?

There will be no swallowing of any kind. Spitting it is.

I’m so deep in my thoughts I miss what Jasper is saying.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

His dark blue gaze flicks quickly across my face as we pull up at a red light.

“I was just saying the itinerary you sent me was very thorough, but I was surprised at how long this trip is. Are you usually away for over a week?”

“Oh, no. I don’t usually do the whole thing in one hit. I tend to break it up. Fly to Adelaide, do the South Australian wineries one week, then do the New South Wales and northern Victorian wineries in another.”

“So why the change?”

Good question. I did have a solid justification for it. But now I’m wondering if there might have been a soupçon of an excuse to spend time with Jasper. Just to try and make a professional connection, of course. Nothing to do with the crush I may or may not have had on the silently brooding teen he was last time we met.

“I wanted you to get the full experience, I guess. There are so many wonderful wineries and gourmet food suppliers out there. I didn’t want you to miss the best ones. I couldn’t narrow it down any further for you to really understand what my proposal could mean for us. And for them.”

Jasper scowls. Ugh. It’s way too early in the morning for a scowl like that.

“I need to be very clear with you, Louise. Going on this trip is in no way an indication your project will be green-lit. And you should take care not to approach it as such.”

My stomach bottoms out. I knew that going in. I did. In theory. But there’s no denying Jasper agreeing to come had given me hope. More than hope, if I’m honest. Expectation.

“I understand. But I really think, once you see what I have to show you, talk to the wineries, you’ll be blown away.” Despite what he’s said, I have to hold onto the belief I have a worthwhile idea.

Jasper furrows his brow and doesn’t respond for a long time.

Eventually he murmurs, “You really love this job, don’t you?”

One might think the regional director would be happy his account relationship manager loves her job. So why does he look troubled by the idea?

Chapter Ten