The Fortunes of Texas: The Rulebreakers

Chapter Two

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 praise meant a lot. “I’ve always gone above and beyond to pull off a successful event, but it’s even sweeter when that success benefits the family.”

“Sounds like you’re settling in here.”

Carlo stole a quick glance at his father, but he didn’t see a need to respond.

“Are you happy you came to Austin?” Esteban asked.

“So far, so good. Why?”

“Don’t get me wrong, mijo. But you have to admit, in the past, you sometimes got bored with a job after a while and moved on to what you’d called bigger and better things.”

Carlo would like to object, to tell his father that he’d always had good reason to make a job change from one restaurant or nightclub to another, but some of what he said was true. Sometimes boredom had played a role. “Don’t worry, Dad. That’s not going to happen this time.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

The two men continued to watch the tasting, as well as the pretty blonde hostess.

“You had a lot of friends in Miami,” his father said. “And a busy social life. I worried that you’d miss all of that.”

“Not really, although I’ll admit it’s been a bit of an adjustment.” It had been six months since Carlo had turned over the keys to his ocean-view apartment and drove to Austin. Yet his enthusiasm for both La Viña and Mendoza Winery was stronger than ever. “I’m still in contact with some of my friends and making new ones. Besides, this position is a good fit, especially since I’m working with family.”

“It’s been a good change for me, too. So was reuniting with my brother. That took a huge weight from my heart.”

“I know.” Carlo, as well as his brothers, had noticed the positive changes in their father ever since he and Orlando had buried the hatchet. After a decades-old riff, everyone had been shocked to learn that Esteban had actually fathered Orlando’s son, Joaquin Mendoza. The man Carlo thought was his cousin was actually his half brother. Recently, Orlando and Esteban had forgiven one another for the past, and Esteban was now getting to know Joaquin as his son.

“You’re watching Schuyler with a keen eye,” his father said. “Are you waiting to see if our temporary hostess makes a mistake? Or are you planning to follow up this tasting with a romantic evening?”

“She’s not going to screw up. Look at her. She’s in her element.”

Esteban chuckled and slapped a hand on Carlo’s shoulder. “Apparently, she’s caught your eye, mijo. And something tells me you don’t plan to thank her for a job well done and then send her on her way.”

“Let’s see how the rest of the night unfolds.” Carlo glanced at his watch. Things would be winding down soon. The chefs and restaurant owners would be heading to dinner, and that left him and Schuyler to debrief following the tasting.

He knew better than to mention that plan. Of all Esteban’s sons, Carlo was the most like their father, a dynamic, charismatic guy who had an eye for pretty women—and a bit of trouble with commitment. Yet none of that seemed to matter. Neither of them had ever had a shortage of dates.

“Schuyler keeps glancing this way,” his father said. “So I’d venture to say that she’s got her eye on you, too.”

It seemed that way. And she wasn’t looking at him like an insecure employee hoping to get her boss’s reassurance. No, Carlo could spot sexual interest in her eyes.

In a few minutes, he’d ask her to celebrate the successful tasting by joining him at dinner. And something about that playful gleam in her pretty blue eyes told him she wouldn’t turn him down.

* * *

Schuyler was having the time of her life. The garden setting was perfect, the evening festive. She’d never sold wine before, but she knew how to talk to people. And she’d soon found those in attendance, all men and women in the culinary industry, to be worldly and interesting. By the end of the tasting, she’d snagged several large-scale orders for the winery, and she’d had a fabulous time in the process.

As the chefs and restaurant owners filed out of the garden and the hotel cleanup crew moved in, Carlo made his way to the linen-draped table where she’d been stationed for the past hour or so.

“You were amazing,” he said. “I couldn’t have asked for a better hostess.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I never realized that work could be as fun as a cocktail party.”

“I suspect you’ve attended your share of those.”

She answered with a flirtatious grin, which he lobbed right back at her. From what she’d seen so far, all of the Mendoza brothers were gorgeous, but she had to admit that Carlo was by far the most attractive—and appealing. She couldn’t pinpoint one single reason for making that conclusion. Actually, there were several—his drop-dead good looks, the playful intensity in his gaze, his confident air. On top of that, she also respected the way he’d orchestrated tonight’s event then stood back and watched it all unfold the way he’d planned.

There was clearly more to him than met the eye. There was something under the surface that also sparked her interest, a sexy yet teasing style that gave her reason to believe he might be as interested in having fun as she was.

Some people shouldn’t expect a romance to last forever, Glammy had said, and I’m one of them. Why compromise my dreams and values just to be accepted? Doing that will only lead to failure, disappointment or heartbreak.

Schuyler had to agree with her grandmother’s philosophy. As the middle Fortunado daughter, she was used to coming up short in her parents’ eyes more often than not.

Admittedly, she wished her father would be proud of her—just the way she was. Not that she’d suffered any lack of confidence because of his disappointment over the years. After all, she’d honed an innate ability to change direction whenever she needed to, something she considered a valuable asset, especially when there were a lot of miserable people in this world who’d do better if they followed their hearts.

“I can’t begin to thank you for stepping up at a moment’s notice,” Carlo said. “You really knocked it out of the park tonight. Would you be interested in pouring wine at our future tastings?”

“Sure. Why not?” Talk about getting her foot in the door with the Mendoza family. Now she wouldn’t have to mention anything about a possible investment, although the idea intrigued her.

Carlo tossed her a heart-strumming smile. “That’s great. Let’s celebrate a job well done.”

“Good idea.” Schuyler didn’t always experience the joy of accomplishment, but she did tonight. Was this how her sister Maddie felt whenever she closed a big deal? She shook off the thought and asked, “Would it be okay if I tried some of the Red River merlot? I told everyone it was my favorite Mendoza wine, even though I’d never had your label. I wouldn’t want my nose to grow and sprout leaves.”

“Like Pinocchio, huh?” Carlo chuckled as he reached for two clean glasses and set them on the table.

“Exactly. I loved that story, especially the cartoon. Besides, I have a thing about being honest.” While that was basically true, a niggle of guilt rose up inside, reminding her that she’d neglected to admit that she wasn’t the woman he thought she was.

Had he been impressed enough with the job she’d done that she could tell him about the mix-up? Would he get angry? Or would he laugh and let her hang around him and his family for a while?

She’d called Nathan Fortune yesterday as a follow-up to a letter she’d sent him last week. But before making a five-hour drive to visit him in person, she wanted to get a better feel for the renowned Fortune family. Who knew what the Mendozas might reveal or what questions she might have after talking to them.

Carlo pulled the loosened cork from one of the half-full bottles and made a generous pour. Then he handed a glass to Schuyler.

She thanked him and took a sip, savoring the hint of black cherry. No wonder some of the chefs had raved about it. “This is very good.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He held up his glass to the outdoor light overhead, flicked his wrist ever so slightly and watched the wine swirl. Then he returned his attention to her. “So how’d you like working this event tonight?”

“I had more fun than any of the attendees.” And standing outside under a canopy of twinkly lights adorning tree branches with a handsome Latino made it all the better.

It was, however, getting a little chilly. She took another sip of merlot, hoping it would warm her from the inside out. Yet she still gave a little shiver.

“You’re cold,” he said.

“Just a little. It’s not bad enough to run back to my car for a sweater.”

“I’m not sure if I told you that’s a pretty dress. It was perfect for the tasting tonight.”

“I have plenty more like this one at home.”

“I’d be disappointed to learn that you didn’t. I assume that means you like to go out on the town.”

“Every chance I get.” She offered him another spunky grin, noting his playful expression. Apparently, he was enjoying her company as much as she enjoyed his.

“You’ve got to be hungry,” he said. “I certainly am. Why don’t you join me for dinner?”

“I’d like that. Just give me a chance to freshen up. I’ll use the hotel restroom.” Ten minutes later, after running a brush through her hair and reapplying her lipstick, Schuyler stopped by the registration desk in the front lobby. She needed a place to stay while she was in Austin, and the Monarch was certainly convenient.

After checking in for the night and getting a key, she returned to the garden, which was now empty—thanks to the efficiency of the hotel cleanup crew.

“Ready to go?” Carlo asked.

“Yes. Are we walking or driving?”

“If you’re okay with Italian food, we can walk. There’s a great little restaurant a few blocks from here.”

“I love all things Italian.” And Latin, it seemed.

“Then let’s go. It’s close to the office, so you can get a sweater or jacket from your car, if you want to. Either way, it’s a short walk.”

When he offered her his arm, she took it, hoping to absorb some of his body heat. “Lead the way.”

Carlo blessed her with a dazzling grin that could turn a girl’s knees to mush. Then he guided her along the sidewalk to the street.

Her heels and the soles of his loafers tapped a steady beat, and while she should probably remove her hand from his forearm, she enjoyed his warmth, as well as the taunting scent of a masculine soap that complemented his sea-breezy cologne.

“How long have you worked for the temp agency?” he asked.

Uh-oh. She hadn’t minded playing along with the identity mix-up at first, but she wasn’t ready to reveal her hand quite yet. What if he had some kind of commitment with the agency that he thought had sent Schuyler as a substitute hostess this evening? What if he reneged on the job offer to hostess future tastings?

She’d have to face that possibility, but maybe it would be best to tell him over dinner—or even dessert.

“Would you believe this was my first time on the job?” she asked.

Okay, while that wasn’t an out-and-out lie, it wasn’t completely honest. But still, it was somewhat truthful. She’d never been a hostess for a wine tasting before.

“Well, you’d never know it from my vantage point. You were a champ.”

Moments later, they approached Rossi’s, a small brick building with a black wrought iron railing that provided an enclosure for curbside dining. Several portable heaters supplied warmth for a few couples who’d taken a seat outdoors.

“Inside or out?” Carlo asked.

“It doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Then let’s take the first available table.” He opened the green door for her, just like a gallant Latin lover, and she entered the small restaurant that boasted white plastered walls and dark wood beams.

The place had an old-world charm, right down to a colorful mural on the east wall and a rustic fountain in the back. And if the aroma of tomatoes, basil and garlic was any clue, the food had to be good.

“Two for dinner,” Carlo told the hostess.

“This way.” The hostess reached for two leather-bound menus, then led them to a linen-draped table, which was adorned with a red rose in a budvase and several flickering votives.

Carlo pulled out Schuyler’s chair, and she took a seat. Then he sat across from her.

The hostess handed them the menus. “Your waiter is Alfonso. He’ll be with you in a moment.”

Moments later, a short balding gentleman in his fifties stopped by their table, introduced himself and took their drink order.

“We’ll have a bottle of Mendoza merlot,” Carlo told Alfonso.

“Nice choice, sir.”

Schuyler couldn’t help but smile. “Did you choose this place because of the food they serve—or because of their wine selection?”

He leaned forward and said, “The food is excellent. And for that reason, we offered a tasting here a couple weeks ago. The customer reaction was so positive that the owner placed an order. So I’d also like to be supportive.”

Schuyler set her menu aside. “So tell me. What’s it like working for a family business?”

“It’s pretty cool. We all get along—and we have a common goal. We want to see the winery be the best it can be.”

“That’s nice.” Schuyler supposed Maddie felt the same way about Fortunado Real Estate.

Carlo studied her for a moment, and a slow smile stretched across his gorgeous face. “You’ve got pretty eyes.”

“So do you,” she said. “Some women would trade just about anything for long, thick lashes like yours. I hadn’t noticed until I saw them from this angle—and in the candlelight.”

“Thank you. As a kid, my brothers used to tease me about them.”

Siblings could sometimes be cruel without meaning to. “I’ll bet that made you feel bad.”

“No, it made me double up my fists and let them have it.”

She laughed. “I’ll bet it did. So did you guys fight a lot growing up? I’d imagine, with all that testosterone flowing, there’d be some pretty big power struggles.”

“Sometimes, but it was usually just in fun.”

When Alfonso returned with their wine, they grew silent, waiting for him to uncork the bottle and pour them each a glass. Then, after telling them he’d be back with water and to take their order, he left them alone.

They’d hardly taken two sips when Carlo’s phone rang. He glanced at the display, then said, “I don’t normally take calls at the dinner table, but this one might be for you.”

Schuyler arched a brow. What made him say that? Who knew she was here—other than his father and brothers?

“Yes,” Carlo said. “Speaking.”

His brow furrowed as he pressed the phone closer to his ear. “Oh, yeah? No, that’s not a problem. At least, not yet. Can we talk about this tomorrow?” After a moment, he nodded. “Thanks.”

Schuyler leaned forward, wondering if he’d tell her who’d called—and why he thought they’d want to speak to her. She’d never been especially patient.

“That was the temp agency we’ve been working with,” he said. “They were apologizing because they couldn’t find a fill-in for the hostess who canceled out on us.”

Uh-oh. Schuyler bit down on her bottom lip. Too bad she hadn’t been up-front with him when she’d first arrived. Or given him her cover story about wanting to make an investment. He probably would have accepted her help anyway. And she would have saved herself from an awkward moment.

His eyes narrowed as he speared her with an assessing look. “So who are you?”

* * *

Schuyler’s eyes widened, and her lips parted. Apparently, Carlo wasn’t the only one who’d been thrown off stride by that phone call from the temp agency.

He leaned forward, his arms braced on the table, and waited for her answer, which she seemed to be pondering. That wasn’t a good sign.

Several beats later, she brightened. “You know...” She lifted her index finger and gave it a little twirl in the air between them. “It’s funny you should ask.”

“I don’t find it funny. Why did you lie to me?”

“Whoa, now just wait one minute. The only thing that was the least bit dishonest was the fact that I never set you straight when you assumed I was the woman sent by the agency. But other than that, I was up-front with you. My name is Schuyler Fortunado, I know a little about wine and I spent two summers at a friend’s Italian villa.”

At this point, he questioned everything about her.

“All right,” he said. “Then assuming that’s true, why’d you let me believe the temp agency had sent you?”

“I can be a little impulsive at times, and I like to have a good time. Serving wine at a classy event sounded like fun. Besides, it was pretty obvious that you needed my help.”

He didn’t doubt any of that, especially the part about his needing her help. And while he was still suspicious, he had to admit that she fascinated him. Why not enjoy his time with her this evening, even if only to discredit her?

“Okay, I can buy the fact that you had fun tonight. You’re also a natural at serving wine and schmoozing. What kind of work do you do?” Modeling immediately came to his mind. Acting, too. And if that were the case, she had to be pretty successful at it. That car she drove and the purse she carried weren’t cheap.

“Actually, I’m currently unemployed.”

He wondered why. She’d admitted to being impulsive. Had she walked off her last job? Had she been fired? Temporarily laid off? And what position had she held up until that time?

Rather than pepper her with those questions, he asked, “How do you pay the bills?”

At that, her smile faded. “You’re about to learn that I’m honest, even if it’s not something I care to admit.”

Oh, wow. Was she a high-end call girl? If so, he hadn’t seen that coming.

“My father set up a trust fund for me,” she said, “so I really don’t have to work. But that doesn’t mean I’m not looking for the right job.”

A trust fund baby, huh? Daddy’s little girl, too.

“Are you an only child?” he asked.

She laughed. “Sometimes I wish that I were, even though we’re all fairly close. I have three brothers and two sisters.”

“And they’re all supported by trust funds?”

“No, just me.”

Carlo lifted his glass and took a slow, steady sip. The woman was as interesting as she was gorgeous. He was usually pretty good at pegging people, but he wasn’t having much luck with her tonight.

“My brother Everett is a doctor,” she added, “and my sister Maddie works for my father’s real estate company. But I’m more of a free spirit who dabbles in the arts, so my dad feels compelled to take care of me, like he did my grandmother.”

Carlo wasn’t used to women being that open and up-front—assuming that Schuyler was being forthright now.

She fingered the stem of her wineglass, then looked up and caught his eyes. Her beauty alone was staggering, but the sincerity in her gaze nearly stole his breath away. “Just so you know, I’m not always going to be on the family dole. I’ve gone to college and traveled abroad. I just haven’t quite figured out what I want to do with my life, and at twenty-five, I don’t think that’s too unusual.”

“No, I don’t suppose it is. I went through a time in my life when I was unsure about what I wanted to do.” At twenty-five, after his divorce, he’d been forced to reevaluate his future, and that had left him a little out of step for a while.

“Apparently,” she said, her blue eyes glimmering, “you’ve got your life all sorted out now.”

“In time, it all came together.” He studied her in the candlelight, the lush blond locks, the heart-shaped face. Some men could lose their heads over a woman like her. That is, if they didn’t drown in those sparkling blue eyes first.