yours. You might actually have to send people in to pick the grapes.” She gasped and pressed her hands to her chest. “Whatever will happen to that so important bottom line?”
His dark gaze never left her face. Brenna waited for the snappy comeback. Arguing with Nic left her feeling more energized than she had in weeks. Funny how despite the years they’d been apart, their ability to drive each other crazy hadn’t changed.
But instead of taking the bait, he simply shook his head. “I thought you might have mellowed.”
“Not even close. You haven’t, either.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’m a lot richer.”
She didn’t doubt that. In the past nine years Nic had taken Wild Sea into the stratosphere. In the same amount of time she’d worked at a series of tedious jobs and a bad marriage. How depressing.
“Rich enough to be a contender,” he added.
“For what?”
“All this.” He jerked his head toward the Marcelli Vineyards.
“You’re crazy. My grandfather would never sell to you.”
Nic shrugged. “Maybe not, but word on the street is, he’s going to sell to someone.”
Brenna stalked into the main offices of the winery and headed for her grandfather’s office. She found the old man sitting behind his desk, studying an order form.
“Nic Giovanni says you’re going to sell the winery,” she announced.
Her grandfather looked up slowly. “What are you doing talking with him?”
“I was walking the fence line, he was doing the same. We met, we talked, he said you were selling. Is it true?”
He had to tell her no, she thought desperately. The winery was the only thing left in her world that mattered. Okay, yes, there was family, but she was talking about work. About losing herself in something she’d always loved.
“You can’t,” she told him when he didn’t speak. “This is a part of all of us.”
He shook his head. “Don’t listen to everything you hear, Brenna. Nicholas Giovanni is our enemy. He only wants to hurt you.”
His phone rang and when he reached for the receiver, Brenna knew he’d said as much as he was going to. She turned and left.
She wanted to take his reassurances to heart. Marcelli Wines was her grandfather’s life. He would never abandon all that he’d worked for. And she supposed a case could be made that Nic was the enemy.
Except he’d never cared about the feud. They’d had that in common. And he’d never been vindictive-even when no one could have blamed him.
Nine years ago she’d promised to love him forever. Yet when he’d proposed she’d walked away from him. Within six months she’d been married to Jeff. Was that why Nic had said the winery was for sale?
Surely he wouldn’t carry a grudge all this time. Why would her childish actions still matter? She didn’t doubt he was more than capable of making up a story about her grandfather selling, just to upset her, but only with good reason. And she couldn’t think of a single one.
So somebody was lying. Either Nic or her grandfather. Which left her with two questions: Which one? And why?
“Okay, but what about when the state gets involved, eliminating voters supposedly for legal reasons, but really to make sure the election goes the way the party in power wants?” Carol Rumstead asked. As she spoke, she flipped her long dark hair out of her eyes.
Mia exchanged a look of frustration with her friend Tina. Every time they discussed campaign reform, Carol brought up the exact same issues. It was so incredibly boring.
She was saved from having to make a response by a quick knock on her front door. She was halfway across the living room when the door opened and David stepped inside.
“Hey,” he said, crossing to her and giving her a kiss. “What’s going on?”
She accepted the kiss, but barely. “My poli sci study group is having a meeting. I told you.”
David frowned. “No, you didn’t.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “It’s nearly seven. We talked about going to a movie tonight.”
“Did we? Gee, I guess I forgot.” She glanced over her shoulder at the small group sprawled across her sofa and love seat, then drew him into the kitchen.
“You never forget stuff like that,” David said as he leaned against the counter. “Mia, you’ve been acting strange lately. What’s up?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m really busy. Why don’t you take someone else to the movies?”
“What? I don’t have anyone to go with.”
“Really?” Annoyance turned to anger. She folded her arms over her chest. “That’s not what I heard. Let me give you a word of advice, David. When you’re engaged, it’s a really stupid idea to take another girl to a club and then spend the entire night trying to suck out her tonsils. People talk. Word gets around. It gets back to me.”
David flushed but didn’t retreat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no other girl.”
“So this Julie person is just a close friend?”
“We hang out.”
He was so lying, she couldn’t believe it. “Just get out of here. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
His face paled. “Mia, no. We have to talk. I love you.”
She could feel the warm gold of her engagement ring. As she turned it and squeezed her hand closed, the small diamond cut into her palm.
“This isn’t my definition of love.”
He looked at her for a long time, then shook his head. “You’re wrong about me. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
Nice words, she thought, trying to harden her heart to them. The problem was, even though he’d acted like an ass, she still cared about him. She wanted to forgive him. But wanting and being able to were two different things.
He walked out of the kitchen. Seconds later the front door opened, then closed. Mia dropped her head and told herself to let it go for now. She would take some time and think about what she wanted, then meet with David again. Together they would come to some rational, logical decision.
Which sounded good, but didn’t do a thing for the knot in her stomach and the ache in her heart. First Jeff had cheated on Brenna and now David had cheated on her. Were all men lying weasel dogs?
Fifty hours until show time, Katie thought as she walked through the main ballroom of the hotel. The tables were in place, but not set. The tents were up, as were the game booths. She had already toured the gardens, which were in perfect shape. The morning of the party, the gardeners would give the area a once-over, tidying any wayward bushes, sweeping the paths and raking the leaves.
She compared the table layout with the master diagram on her clipboard and carefully counted. Exactly right, she thought when she finished. The decorations were in place, the lighting had been fixed so that no one had to suffer with a spotlight in his or her eyes. The stage had been pushed into the corner and the various bands and musical groups had been confirmed. Check, check, and triple check.
She walked toward the kitchens to go over the food one more time. She pushed open one of the swinging double doors and found most of the kitchen staff gathered around three large workstations. All the head chefs were there, as were their assistants.
Jerome looked up and saw her. “Katie!” he said with delight. “Always compulsively thorough.” He pressed his hands to his chest. “Worry shortens the life.”
“I worry so my clients don’t have to. In my line of work,
He nodded to one of the other chefs and moved toward her. “All right. I’ll volunteer to go through the food with you before you even ask me,” he said, taking her arm. “How’s that?”
“Very nice of you. Most brilliant chefs are far more temperamental.”
“I know. My goodness is a curse. People take advantage of me.”
“And then you threaten them with a deboning knife.” She glanced back at the crowd of kitchen workers. “What’s going on here? You haven’t booked another big event, have you? Jerome, there’s not room for-”
