“Whatever the boss wants.” Joe took the bag.
“Come on,” I said. “This won’t take long. You can tell me about your dissertation.”
“Nah, it’ll put you to sleep.”
“Is that a nice way of saying I wouldn’t understand?”
He flushed. “Sorry. I guess it was. You really want to know?”
I nodded.
“The title is ‘The Potential Economic and Social Implications of Thomas Jefferson’s Efforts on Behalf of a Nascent Wine Industry in Virginia’ but I might change it to what my students call it.” He handed me the laundry bag. “‘Grape Expectations.’”
I laughed and he added, “Hold this open. I’ll clear off the tablecloths.”
We moved systematically down the row of tables. “Can I ask you a favor?” he said a moment later as he balled up a tablecloth and pitched it at the open sack.
“Of course.” His aim was slightly off or maybe I moved. I shifted quickly and caught the tablecloth before it hit the ground.
“Nice save. Look, when I was doing research on my dissertation, Leland used to give me carte blanche to use his library. He really does have the best private collection of books around on that particular aspect of Jefferson’s life. Do you think I could still come…?”
“Sure, Joe,” I said. “Help yourself to whatever you need. Although the place is a mess. I don’t know how you can find anything. There are newspapers in there that quote what Noah said about the flood.”
He grinned. “You want to get rid of them?” I nodded and he added, “Tell you what. I’ll stop by and fill up the back of my truck in the next day or two. I pass the recycling center all the time.”
“That would be great.”
“No problemo.” He chucked me under the chin. “Give me that sack. It weighs a ton.”
We walked together toward a large white van with Goose Creek Catering stenciled on the sides in gold and green. Joe tossed the laundry bag inside.
“I guess I’d better find Eli,” I said, “and get him to stop whatever it is he’s got going on with Erica and Austin before they show up at the house tomorrow.”
“Jeez, glad I’m going to miss that conversation. Might as well try to stop gravity while you’re at it, changing Eli’s mind. He’s pretty determined to sell.”
“Thank you so very much for that vote of confidence.”
He looked down into my eyes. “I forgot. You may have the face of an angel,” he mussed my hair, “but you’ve got the disposition of a mule. Family trait. Good luck, sweetheart.”
I heard applause and cheering from the Ruins before I’d gone very far on the dirt path that led from the road to the amphitheater. Though it was lit by Hector’s brightly burning citronella torches, it was hard to see the uneven ground in the shifting shadows. Getting caught in a crowd is one of the few things that still panics me. I moved to the edge of the path and missed seeing the large tree root.
As I tripped, I knocked into one of the torches. It went down with me and hit the ground as I did, sending sparks shooting like a miniature Catherine wheel.
“Holy Christ, you’re on fire!” I sensed rather than saw Greg in the flickering firelight, materializing out of nowhere. He stripped off his shirt as he knelt next to me, beating the glowing orange cinders that winked like tiny fireflies on my dress and my flesh. “Give me that torch,” he ordered. Dazed I watched him right it and fix it firmly into the ground again. “There’s blood all over your dress.”
I said shakily, “It’s Pinot Noir.”
“Christ,” he said again. “You’re lucky you didn’t set the woods on fire. The drought’s turned everything into a tinderbox. Are you okay, love?” He touched my hair. “You’re hair’s singed, too. Maybe we should get you to a doctor.”
The last time he called me “love” was before the accident.
“I’m fine.” The places where the embers burned my arms and legs throbbed. My dress had torn when I fell; the pinholes from the places the sparks had landed looked like an attack of moths. I winced as I tucked my misshapen leg under me so it was invisible. God help me, not a sprained ankle, too. “I lost my cane.” My voice sounded far away.
“I’ll find it in a second.” He pulled me to him and cradled me in his arms. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Let me call Ross Greenwood and get you over to see him.”
“No, don’t! I’m fine.” I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see the torchlight gilding his deeply tanned skin and dark hair, turning him into a godlike burnished statue, as perfect and beautiful as he’d always been. He was too close, this was too familiar.
His kiss was swift and fierce, tasting oddly of wine and fire, blurring my senses and eroding my resolve. He wore the same musky cologne, now mingled with the scent of something charred. I kissed him back. His hand closed around my throat as he pulled me deeper into him. His hands started to move as we stayed locked in that eternal kiss. Then I tasted salt, from tears. The beginning of redemption.
What I didn’t know was whether it was his or mine.
Chapter 11
“Somebody lose this?”
Greg and I broke apart as swiftly and combustibly as we’d come together. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and tried to sit up, groaning as more pain shot through my ankle. Quinn Santori stood silhouetted against the torchlight, holding my cane like a javelin.
“Evenin’, folks. Didn’t mean to, ah, interrupt you.” He held out the cane. “Lucie, this is yours, isn’t it? You all right?”
“She fell,” Greg sounded tense. “She tripped and took a torch down with her. I caught her as she fell.”
“Holy shit.” I couldn’t see Quinn’s face in the darkness, but he sounded genuinely disturbed.
“I’m fine.” He handed me my cane and as I half-rose to take it, my ankle buckled. For the second time Greg caught me again. I noticed that he was still shirtless.
“Like hell you are,” he said. “She’s got burns on her arms and legs. Scorched hair, too. I managed to extinguish everything with my shirt but I think she ought to see Doc Greenwood.”
“Who needs to see Doc Greenwood?” Eli, out of breath like he’d been running hard, showed up with Mia at his elbow. “Lucie!” he said. “What the hell happened?”
“I tripped over a tree root in the dark,” I said. “Calm down. It’s nothing serious.”
Though I couldn’t see Mia’s face either, the anger in her voice was palpable. I wasn’t the one she was worried about. “Greg! I’ve been looking
“I don’t think Lucie can walk, Mia.” Greg calmly pulled on his shirt. To me he said, “What’d you do, sprain your ankle?”
“I think it’s just twisted. I’ll put ice on it. Really, I’m okay.”
“Will you
He stood up and folded his arms across his chest, fixing Mia in his stare. Then he said so softly that the hair on the back of my neck prickled, “I’ve got it under control, baby. I don’t need you telling me what to do. Understand?”
I watched the flickering torchlight next to us lash tiger stripes across his face. His eyes glittered and the muscles in his neck were thick as ropes.
There was a long moment of silence before Mia stammered, “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
He smiled coldly. “I thought so.”
There was a new flash of fire across from me and I jumped. Quinn had struck a match, lighting one of his ever-present cigars. “Well, if Lucie can’t walk,” he said laconically between puffs, ignoring the tension that hung in the air like fog, “I’ll get the Gator and run her back to the house.”
