Time must be a woman, because it had graced him with a few wrinkles by his eyes that only added to his dark good looks and sexual appeal.
“Brenna.” He paused by the fence. “I can hear the party from here.”
She turned in the direction of the Marcelli hacienda, but she couldn’t see anything but grapevines. The faint sound of music and laughter did indeed carry on the light breeze.
“My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”
“My grandfather’s too old to change his ways,” she said. “He’ll never forgive you for being a Giovanni.”
“I don’t need forgiving.”
Men like him never did, she thought. They sinned with impunity.
She looked at his jeans and T-shirt, the latter with cutoff sleeves. “I take it you’re not celebrating at home.”
“I’ll be heading out later.”
He stared at her. His dark eyes seemed to see past her fragile defenses to the insecurity beneath. Self- consciously she put her hand up to her short hair.
“I like it,” he said, his gaze following her actions. “You look good.”
Simple words. Meaningless words. She swore silently as pleasure blossomed inside of her and heat flared, as it always had when Nic was around.
“You, too,” she said before she could stop herself. Mortification followed instantly. She cleared her throat and changed the subject.
“Looks to be a good harvest.”
He nodded. “You heard about the Schulers going out of business? I’ve put in an offer.”
Which was just like him. “Dammit, Nic, don’t tell me you’re buying them, too. Do you have to own every damn acre in the valley?”
He grinned. “That’s the Brenna I know. I got worried when you were so polite. I thought maybe the family had put you on medication.”
She glared at him. “Very funny. You’re on the verge of overproducing.”
She thought of the map in her grandfather’s office, the one that showed the Marcelli’s lands, along with those belonging to Wild Sea Vineyards. Over the past twenty years their rivals to the north had nearly doubled in size. “There’s no way you can keep control of that much acreage. Or is that the point? Will you be hiring people to manage it for you so you don’t have to get your hands dirty anymore?”
“We’ll be the biggest, and the best.”
“Not possible. Besides, you’ve already decided volume is more important than quality. I’m disappointed, but not surprised.”
He leaned against a fence post. “I heard Lorenzo has put you back in charge.”
“For now,” she told him, thinking of her grandfather’s threat to sell. “I’m going to try a new Cuvee with the whites. It’s going to be a winner. You won’t want to go up against me in competition.”
“We don’t make a Cuvee. But it’s not a bad idea.”
“Sure. If you can’t be original, then copy.”
He grinned. “I’ll make it cheaper and sell about ten times as much.”
He would, too, damn him.
“I’ll still be the best,” she told him.
“You’ll be broke.”
Or out on the streets if her grandfather sold. But she didn’t want to think about that.
A loud burst of music made her turn toward the direction of the hacienda. “I’d better head back,” she said.
He nodded. “Good to see you again.”
“Oh, right. Because you really enjoy arguing with me.”
He surprised her by grinning. “Actually, I do. See you, Brenna.”
His statement stunned her into silence.
When he’d disappeared into the vineyard, she headed back to her truck. As she slid onto the worn seat, she remembered when it had all been different. Years ago Nic had been her universe. She had thought she couldn’t possibly live without him, but she’d been wrong. In a world where Marcellis and Giovannis were sworn enemies, Nic had asked her to chose. She had… but she hadn’t chosen him.
Francesca set a pile of flatware on the table and began to sort through the pieces. The afternoon had warmed up enough to make her grateful for the shade of the nearby trees. The party-goers clustered in large groups all around the property, while music from the band her parents had hired added to the festive mood.
Every few minutes she found herself glancing around and trying to find Sam. When she caught a glimpse of him, guilt, fear, and terror made her stomach clench and her throat close up. Neither were pleasant.
“Did you see?” Kelly asked as she raced up to the table. The preteen practically vibrated with excitement. Her face was flushed and her eyes widened.
“Look!”
Kelly pointed and Francesca turned in that direction. She frowned, unable to see what was so interesting. Two people sat together in shade. They were talking, their heads bent close together.
“It’s my great-grandpa and your Grammy M,” Kelly breathed. “I saw them laughing a little bit ago. I can’t decide if it’s really great or totally gross.”
Francesca grinned. She knew what her vote would be. “It’s fun,” she said.
Kelly wrinkled her nose. “They’re so old.”
“That fact should give you hope for the future. With a little luck you’ll still have a love life at that age.”
Kelly groaned. “That is totally gross.”
“You won’t think so then.”
“What are you two up to?”
Francesca turned and saw Sam walking up.
Kelly grinned. “Gabriel has a girlfriend.”
Sam saw what was going on with Gabriel and Grammy M.
“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.
“Francesca thinks it’s cute,” Kelly told him. “I’m not so sure.”
“Love happens at every age,” Francesca said.
Kelly’s expression hardened. “I hate it when people fall in love. They act stupid and forget what’s important. They forget about a lot of things.”
She turned and ran toward the house. Sam stared after her.
“My ex-wife has a lot to answer for,” he said coldly. “For what she did to both of us. She put Kelly through hell and kept me from being there to make my daughter’s life bearable. I can forgive her for a lot of things, but I’ll never forgive her for the lies.”
12
The last of the plates were cleared away just as the sun slipped below the horizon. In the distance the fireworks were set up on a patch of graded land that had yet to be cultivated.
Francesca and Brenna strolled in the twilight, heading away from the tables and toward the house.
“I’m going to explode,” Francesca said, touching her stomach. The troubles in her life had done nothing to reduce her appetite. “Why do I always eat too much?”
“Because the Grands are the best cooks in the world,” Brenna said. “I’ve got to get out of here and get my own place. If I stay much longer, I’ll weigh four hundred pounds by the end of summer.”
Francesca laughed. “You look great. Quit complaining.”
“I look okay,” her sister said. “You look amazing. There’s this strange glow about you.” Brenna’s gaze narrowed. “It’s Sam, isn’t it?”
Francesca swore silently. Glowing? She couldn’t be glowing. She was maybe three weeks pregnant. The baby
