Her Inconvenient Christmas Reunion

  “I’m afraid we’re all out of toys,” she told whoever the newcomer was, not bothering to look. “And you probably won’t want a picture.”

  “On the contrary,” replied a deep, masculine and all-too-familiar voice. “I would love a photo. You have got to be the most adorable elf I’ve ever seen.”

  Izzy stood frozen in place, at a complete loss for words. She had no question who that voice belonged to. She’d know it anywhere despite all the years that had passed since she’d heard it. Zayn Joffman. As if this day hadn’t been bad enough already.

  Zayn wanted to swallow back the words the moment they’d left his mouth.

  Still, he should have been much more professional. Past history aside, the fact was they were currently business partners, and that precluded flirtatious banter. For better or worse.

  Judging by the glaring look of disdain she was currently shooting his way, this particular moment definitely fell in the latter category.

  He cleared his throat, aiming for a do-over. “Hey, Izzy.”

  Dear Reader,

  I always wondered what it would be like to work at a winery. I’ve had the fortune to visit a few recently, and the sights, smells and tastes of those visits still remain with me. Working in such a place as a vintner seems like it would be a dream job. My heroine in this story is not only such a vintner, she finds herself unexpectedly the owner of a successful winery in the heart of wine country, USA. Well, Izzy is only part owner. Turns out she inherited only half her late mentor’s winery. The other half belongs to none other than her former love. A man she thought was lost to her forever.

  Fate has other plans.

  Zayn did the honorable thing years ago when he left his home and everything he knew because it was the best thing he could do for Izzy at that moment. But he’s never forgotten her.

  Then a shared bequest throws them back together again and Zayn has to wonder if he made the right decision all those years ago.

  It was a pleasure to write this story. I hope you enjoy reading it.

  Cheers,

  Nina

  Her Inconvenient Christmas Reunion

  Nina Singh

  Nina Singh lives just outside Boston, Massachusetts, with her husband, children and a very rambunctious Yorkie. After several years in the corporate world, she finally followed the advice of family and friends to “give the writing a go, already.” She’s oh-so-happy she did. When not at her keyboard, she likes to spend time on the tennis court or golf course. Or immersed in a good read.

  Books by Nina Singh

  Harlequin Romance

  Destination Brides

  Swept Away by the Venetian Millionaire

  The Men Who Make Christmas

  Snowed in with the Reluctant Tycoon

  9 to 5

  Miss Prim and the Maverick Millionaire

  The Marriage of Inconvenience

  Reunited with Her Italian Billionaire

  Tempted by Her Island Millionaire

  Christmas with Her Secret Prince

  Captivated by the Millionaire

  Their Festive Island Escape

  Her Billionaire Protector

  Spanish Tycoon’s Convenient Bride

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  To my mom and dad. For all the hard work and sacrifices. And for your continual support.

  Praise for

  Nina Singh

  “A captivating holiday adventure! Their Festive Island Escape by Nina Singh is a twist on an enemies to lovers trope and is sure to delight. I recommend this book to anyone.... It’s fun, it’s touching and it’s satisfying.”

  —Goodreads

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Excerpt from Snowbound at the Manor by Ellie Darkins

  CHAPTER ONE

  You two need each other.

  ZAYN JOFFMAN READ the words once more, holding the official document in his hand so tightly, he felt the ache in his knuckles. The solicitor’s envelope had contained a personal letter imploring him to understand.

  He didn’t. Not at all.

  Why was he surprised?

  He answered his own silent question. Because he was foolish, that was why. Foolish enough to believe that the one member of his family whom he thought to be decent, accepting and kind, was enough of all those things to do right by him in the end. Well, he’d been wrong. And she hadn’t done right by him at all. In fact, his late great-aunt had pretty much stabbed him in the back with her last official act as sole owner of Stackhouse Winery in the heart of Napa Valley.

  Outside his window, the Manhattan skyline darkened with threatening storm clouds. The forecasted blizzard couldn’t be too far behind. A late-night storm—a harbinger of the mess that was about to come his way.

  How very appropriate.

  Tossing the letter on the mahogany desk in his study, Zayn rubbed his eyes and tried to take a calming breath. It was bad luck to think ill of the dead, wasn’t it? Though, truth be told, he was more disappointed in himself than he was in Great-Aunt Myrna. He should have never for one moment believed that any one of them would deem him worthy enough to be sole heir to any of their holdings. Not even the sole relative who had taken him in. To add insult to injury, he’d have to share his inheritance with someone who wasn’t even blood. Of course, Myrna considered the other inheritor family. She always had.

  Well, he would figure it out; find a way around this. It would be simple enough to buy the other party out. He certainly had the resources. Despite his family’s utter dismissal of him as anyone of any worth, he’d built quite a successful empire all on his own. Nevertheless, people had been underestimating him all his life. If he were honest, he would have to admit he’d given them good reason to do so in his earlier days. Still.

  Their total brush-off stung just a bit. Okay. It stung a lot. Surely, they’d all seen how much he’d accomplished over the years, all that he’d achieved for himself. Shouldn’t that have been enough to alter their view somewhat?

  Turned out the answer was a resounding no—as clearly evidenced by the letter currently lying on his desktop.

  Despite his success, his great-aunt’s bequest came with a tremendous caveat. He would have to share everything fifty-fifty.

  Rubbing his eyes on a weary sigh, Zayn walked around his desk to plop down on the ergonomic leather chair. What’s done was done; he would have to move quickly to fix it all. He already had enough on his plate and would have to take care of this matter to move on to more pressing matters.

  No, there was no doubt he would have to deal with the current scenario directly and by himself. He had a lot to discuss and negotiate with the other inheritor, and he couldn’t trust others to do this for him.

  You two need each other.

  The written words echoed in his head in Great-Aunt Myrna’s voice. He had no idea what she could have meant by that. He certainly didn’t need anyone’s help to run the place. In fact, he already had a vision for the winery that would be completely at odds with anyone who’d been involve
d with running it so far.

  Stackhouse Winery was too small, too quaint. It didn’t even accommodate online orders, for heaven’s sake. That meant only mostly locals and a handful of seasonal tourists as customers. Such a setup made no sense at all and was completely unacceptable in today’s global economy. The place was way overdue for a massive expansion.

  Zayn wouldn’t need a business loan to implement his ideas. He had ample resources. Perhaps that was why Myrna had made such an inexplicable decision. She’d probably figured Zayn would be the cash cow that kept the winery running completely as is without tampering with the status quo.

  Well, if that was her thinking, she’d been terribly mistaken. And she’d greatly misjudged him.

  Pulling over his tablet, he called up his assistant’s number in the contact list. She answered before the first ring concluded, despite it being a Saturday morning.

  “Clara, I know it’s going to be a pain this close to the holidays, but please clear my schedule for the next two weeks. I have to make an unexpected trip to California.”

  Initially met with a long, silent pause, he realized how totally uncharacteristic his request had sounded.

  “Is this regarding the recent passing of your great-aunt?”

  Equally uncharacteristic of Clara to ask any kind of personal question.

  Zayn supposed it was a rather unconventional time. “In a way,” he answered. “The will has finally been revealed.”

  “I see.”

  This time Clara’s question went unasked, though Zayn could guess what she was wondering. She probably couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t just send a corporate representative to deal with the legalities and establishment of his latest acquired asset—or partial asset, as the case may be. He had plenty of qualified MBAs and attorneys on staff who could attend to such matters. And as tempting as it was, Zayn knew sending someone else would simply be the coward’s way out. He may have been many things, but he’d never be credibly accused of cowardice.

  “We’ll be adding another winery to the corporate holdings, it turns out,” he told Clara. No need to get into details regarding how he didn’t quite own the entire property just yet.

  “I see. I’ll start the paperwork.”

  “Thank you. I’m afraid I’ll have to personally go see about the acquisition. For various reasons...” He finally answered her unspoken question.

  More silence. His assistant would never understand why he had to deal with this himself. How could she? She didn’t know the history behind it all. The property wasn’t even that large, as she was well aware. Not, at least, when compared to his other holdings.

  Clara didn’t realize this inheritance was part of his legacy—one final yet slim entry into the world he’d been born to but that had never wanted him.

  There was no doubt he would have to deal with the other inheritor directly. The whole situation was one big, sensitive, complicated mess.

  Made all the more complicated by the fact that he’d been in love with the other inheritor once long ago.

  * * *

  Santa Claus was most definitely drunk.

  Izadora Veracruz had no doubt about it. She just had no idea what she was going to do about it. One thing was certain, she couldn’t let Mr. Reyes go through with handing out presents in his current state. Why had he been “in his cups” already? It was barely noon. Though, she knew, day drinking was hardly an unheard-of custom in the heart of Napa Valley.

  Still, did he have to be inebriated on this of all days? There was a line of kids in the tasting room at this very moment waiting to sit on Santa’s lap for a photo and a small, token gift.

  “Why, he’s drunker than a rat in a whiskey barrel,” Paula said, coming up to stand next to her. They both watched in horror as Mr. Reyes bent to tie his bootlace and nearly toppled over in the process. “He can’t go out there, Izzy.”

  “I know,” she responded on a deep sigh. “I can practically smell the fumes on his breath all the way over here.”

  “You certainly can’t let him interact with the children in the state he’s in,” Paula added, once again telling her what was obviously clear as day.

  “I know,” Izzy repeated.

  “Well, do we have a plan B?” Paula asked.

  Not yet. But Izzy would have to come up with one. With Myrna now gone, she was general manager of the winery, and all the responsibility fell squarely on her shoulders.

  Correction: she was officially more than general manager now; she was part owner. Not that she expected any kind of help from her “partner.” Zayn Joffman couldn’t care less about this place. He hadn’t been around the winery in years. No doubt he’d assume the role of silent partner and interfere just enough to rub against her nerves.

  He’d always been good at doing that.

  “I guess I’ll have to take care of it myself,” she said in answer to Paula’s question.

  Paula scoffed. “No offense, but you don’t exactly fit the description. You’d make a lousy Santa.”

  She had a point. “Maybe. But I think I can pull off the role of helpful elf.” She took her friend/employee by the forearm. “You go tend to Mr. Reyes. Take him to the kitchen and brew some coffee. Strong coffee.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll go get dressed. I know there’s at least one elf costume back there among the plethora of holiday decorations and knickknacks.”

  Paula gave her a brisk nod and went to do as instructed. Though it didn’t appear that a pot of coffee would do much good—Reyes was three sheets to the wind. The man was sure to suffer one monster of a headache in a few hours.

  By the time Izzy located and squeezed herself into the elf outfit, she was feeling much less generous toward her irresponsible Santa. For one, the green-felt costume was at least two sizes too small. She’d never been what one would consider petite and her generous curves screamed in protest at the tight confines. Playing Santa’s helper had so not been on her agenda for the day.

  This event was an annual holiday tradition at Stackhouse Winery. And Reyes had been playing the role of Santa Claus for several years. Why had he picked this day to indulge?

  Sighing in frustration—and uttering a silent prayer that the cheap costume material held up for the next couple of hours—Izzy went out to address the children who would almost certainly be disappointed about Santa Claus’s absence.

  She was right. When she got to the tasting room and greeted the first child, she was met with a resounding frown. No one wanted to have their picture taken with an elf in a too small costume. The token gift would only do so much to tamper the disappointment. More than one parent could be heard grumbling about the waste of time and how they would have to make a trip to the mall.

  Izzy could guess what they were all thinking. This was the first event she’d been responsible for since Myrna’s passing. And somehow she’d utterly, embarrassingly, failed to pull it off. By the time the last child begrudgingly grabbed his gift and left, it was taking all Izzy had to keep from crying. Not one bottle of wine sold.

  She missed her. Myrna had been so much more to Izzy than an employer. She’d been a trusted and solid friend since Izzy was a child, a parental figure who she’d miss forever.

  Tearing the elfin cap off her head, she used it as a tissue to wipe her eyes and nose. Damn costume. She could hardly breathe in it. It was going straight into the trash bin as soon as she peeled it off.

  The door opened suddenly, letting in a wave of cold air. What now? The tasting room still hadn’t been set up, she had to go see about Reyes, and, if she had to spend one more minute in this sausage case of an outfit, she didn’t think she could bear it.

  “I’m afraid we’re all out of toys,” she told the newcomer, not bothering to look. “And you probably won’t want a picture.”

  “On the contrary,” replied a deep, masculine, and
all-too-familiar voice. “I would love a photo. You have got to be the most adorable elf I’ve ever seen.”

  Izzy froze in place, at a complete loss for words. She had no question as to who that voice belonged to. She’d know it anywhere despite all the years that had passed since she’d last heard it. Zayn Joffman. As if this day hadn’t been bad enough already.

  * * *

  Why in the world had he said that?

  Zayn wanted to swallow back the words the moment they left his mouth. Of course, she looked adorable. She always had. So inappropriate for him to say so, however. There was no excuse for it. He’d just been so thrown off kilter when he’d walked in to find her clad head-to-toe in green felt with pointy-toed slippers. The material hugged her tightly in all the right places. Her dark, wavy hair fell in luxurious waves to frame her heart-shaped face. If anything, she’d grown even more beautiful with time. Though he’d thought he’d been prepared, seeing her again in such an unexpected getup had served to figuratively punch him in the gut. Who knew elves could be so fetchingly sexy?

  Still, he should have been much more professional. Past history aside, the fact that they were currently business partners precluded flirtatious banter. For better or worse.

  Judging by the glaring look of disdain currently shooting his way, this particular moment definitely fell into the latter category.

  He cleared his throat, aiming for a do-over. “Hey, Izzy.”

  Now that he could clearly see her face, he felt like even more of a heel for the way he’d greeted her. She was clearly upset. Heaven help him, it looked like she’d been crying.

  She sniffled. “Zayn.”

  “Is this a bad time?”

  She didn’t bother answering but asked a question of her own instead. “What brings you back around these parts?”

  He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic. Surely, she had an idea what had brought him home.

  “I’m thinking you can guess the answer to that.”