by Kate Kisset
“I love you, you know.” Danica leaned back, sinking her head into the cool, cushy pillows.
“I know, and I love you, too. I was scared shitless when Lulu told me you’d been creamed in the head by a baseball. I don’t know what I’d do without my Miss Danica.” Juliet got up, and Danica thanked God for the thousandth time for her friends.
“Let me move this to your nightstand so you can stretch out and get your beauty sleep.” Juliet reached for the tray.
“Hang on.” Danica grabbed the rest of the bear claw. “Okay, now you can take it.”
Juliet lifted the platter. “Don’t get any on Sarah’s cashmere blanket.”
“I won’t, and, hey, thank you for looking in on me. You’re the best.”
“You got it. Glad you’re here where I can keep my eye on you.” Juliet left the room and closed the door.
Danica lay propped up on her pillows and munched on the pastry while gazing across the room at the array of jars and bottles on her mantel. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something seemed wonky. Brushing the palms of her hands together, and making sure there was no buttery residue, she lifted the covers. Before she could get out of bed, her phone rang. The number of her boss, the editor of the Napa Sun newspaper, Howard Harvey III, popped up on the screen.
“Hello Mr. Harvey.”
“How ya feelin’, slugger?”
“Much better. I’m home now, and thank you for the flowers.”
“Good to hear. Take all the time you need before coming back to work.” Mr. Harvey cleared his throat. “We can get an intern to finish the Santino Winery story, and we can assign someone else to the baseball article.”
“No, no, no… I’m okay.” She blurted. It would be just her luck to get hit in the head and booted off the winery story. She just needed one more interview with Michael to wrap it up. She’d put so many hours into researching biodynamic farming, she couldn’t just give her story to another reporter. Besides, now that Michael made it clear they weren’t dating, there was no conflict of interest to contend with. And after the interview was over, she might take advantage of the opportunity and ask Michael a more personal question. Like why on earth did you kiss me?
“Thank you for the offer, but I’d like to complete the project I started.”
Mr. Harvey uttered the same half-groan, half-throat clearing sound her father sometimes made. Like her dad, he was somewhere up there in his sixties. In fact, Mr. Harvey had been the first war correspondent Rolling Stone hired to cover the Vietnam War. He made another noise, this time a cross between a grunt and a sigh. A sure sign he didn’t know what to say.
“The doctor said I could go back to work in a few days. The only thing he suggested is to have any work I do double-checked. But I’m not operating any heavy machinery, here.” She crossed her fingers.
“I don’t—”
“Just one more interview, five hours, tops. I just have a few loose ends to tidy up.” Why was he making it so hard for her to do her job?
“And what about the new baseball series? It’s scheduled to run soon.”
“I can dive right into it after I finish the Santino story.” An image of Danny Deep’s mischievous grin flashed in her brain. “I even have a great source.”
“Well, if you’re sure about this…I don’t want to add any more stress to your job, Danica. We need you to stay healthy.” Mr. Harvey’s voice softened.
Danica exhaled in relief, loud enough for Mr. Harvey to hear.
“Take your time, and if you need any help, we have a new crop of very talented interns. Just say the word, and they can help with whatever you need.”
After exchanging good-byes, Danica studied at her glossy white mantel ledge. Something still didn’t look right.
Among the fresh herbs, something grimy and dirty lay wedged between a jar of cilantro sprigs and the wall. She plucked a dirty, scuffed baseball out from behind the mantel arrangement. On it, was a message scribbled in smudged blue ink: To Danica, My first home run of the season. Danny Deep.
Chapter Two
On her first day back to work, Danica assured Mr. Harvey of her health and commitment to finishing both of her stories. And although hard news wasn’t in her official job description, yet, she pitched him on a missing woman’s story. On her walk back to the office, a friend at the Sheriff’s Department called to let her know a thirty-three-year-old Napa woman was reported missing near Skyline Wilderness Park.
As Danica expected, Mr. Harvey asked someone else to investigate, but she’d done what she set out to do by dropping the hint that she wasn’t completely satisfied with the Features Editor slot. She had the skills and connections to contribute far more to the paper. Eventually she’d move up the food chain and get her teeth into a hard news story.
At two o’clock she headed out to her interview with Michael.
Michael Santino, the eldest of the six Santino brothers, and heir to one of California’s largest and most prestigious wineries, had been on the periphery of Danica’s life since childhood.
Danica cruised past the charming streets of her old stomping grounds. She and Michael had grown up together as neighbors in downtown Napa. Her family lived on D Street, and the Santinos, before the success of the winery and resulting housing upgrade, lived nearby on G.
Her stomach fluttered at the thought of being minutes away from Michael’s office. She didn’t want to feel nervous around him. Over the past year, they’d socialized at several work-related events. The game-changer for her occurred at the Santino family’s annual New Year’s Eve party.
She went stag with Juliet and Sarah, and bumped into Michael at the bar. He’d inched close and stroked her arm. The way he whispered, brushing his face against hers, asking if she was having a good time, had thrown her. At the time, she thought maybe he’d had too much to drink.
The clincher came just before midnight, when she and everyone in the room crowded near the stage to count down the seconds to the New Year. She’d lost track of Michael, but somehow, he found her in the throng. He turned away from his date, cradled her face in his hands, and kissed her at the precise second the clock struck twelve. Thanks to the flying confetti and tooting horns, she doubted anyone besides his date had noticed. Afterward, he turned back to his companion, and they wandered off as if nothing had happened, leaving her flabbergasted.
She veered on to Big Ranch Road and, needing a distraction, turned on the radio. John Mayer crooned Stop This Train, and a crush of melancholy crept over her. Life had become so complicated, flying by at breakneck speed. Those carefree days of the Alphabet streets in Napa seemed so far away, and her lighthearted dreams of the future, that seemed so easy to attain back then, were out of reach. She thought she’d be married by now, or have somewhat of a life plan... or at least not feel so alone.
She stopped her car in front of his office and pulled the keys from the ignition. After taking a moment to fluff up her hair and check her lipstick in the rearview mirror, she got out of the car and locked the doors.
Sneaking a last look at her reflection in the Santino Winery Corporate Office glass door, she pulled the knob and went in.
The scent of aged leather, overripe grapes, and spice blanketed the cool, dimly lit room. Mirrored shelves loaded with heavy crystal glasses covered the wall behind a massive, dark mahogany bar, and unopened cases of Santino wines were stacked on the floor below shiny plaques touting the awards various vintages had won throughout the years.
“You here to see Michael?” Jayne, Michael’s assistant rose from her desk, offering a cheery smile. They’d met a half dozen times before, and she always seemed to go out her way to be nice. “Why don’t you have a seat?” She gestured to the leather couch across from her desk. “Oh, and Michael asked me to make sure you got this.” Jayne handed her an envelope and winked. “It’s an invitation to their Fourth of July party.”
The shock threw her for a loop. “Thank you.” He knows I’m attra
cted to him. Talk about mixed messages. Danica slipped the envelope into her purse and sank into the soft leather sofa. She smoothed her skirt and watched Jayne slither to the door.
Long, lithe and stacked, Jayne’s tight, spandex-covered butt undulated down the hall in search of her master. Michael could have his pick of any woman, including Jayne.
Danica took a deep breath, sucked in her stomach and tried to relax. Searching for something—anything!—to ease her jitters, she considered breaking into one of the Santino wine cases on the floor next to her.
“Mr. Santino will see you now.”
Bracing her weight on her hands, she carefully extricated herself from the deep cushions while her skirt rode up her thighs, and her butt made an embarrassing squeak as it slid against the leather.
Jayne turned to investigate. “Want me to show you the way?”
“No, thank you, I’ve got it.” Danica wedged past her in the doorway, and continued down the hall. She purposely slowed her pace and consciously kept her head held high. I’m confident. I’m secure enough to walk into Michael’s office without turning into mush.
The door was open. Michael seemed to be buried in paperwork.
“Hi, Michael.”
He looked up and gave a grin wide enough to make his brown eyes crinkle at the corners. She gasped involuntarily, the way she always did when she saw him. Dang it.
“Danica, so good to see you.” Even this late in the day, his white button-down shirt looked crisp and pressed. “How are you feeling?” He came around the desk, and she couldn’t help but notice his black slacks were perfectly pleated without a wrinkle in sight.
His massive arms latched around her for a hug, her nose wedged into his chest at the third button down. Basking in his embrace, she inhaled a mixture of fresh earth, grapes, and clean cotton. He broke away, so she eventually had to let go of him.
“Let’s sit over here on the couch.” He led her to the linen-covered love seat on the other side of the room, and they sat next to each other. “Are you feeling well?” The way he tilted his face and examined her so sweetly caught her off guard. She’d never get to the interview questions if he kept looking at her this way.
“I am, and thank you for taking care of me—at the game.” She deleted the image of her beige Spanx the second it flashed in her brain.
Michael gently caressed her hand. “That was a real scare, Danica.”
She placed her hand over his. “I don’t remember much about it, really, after standing in line at the Snack Shack.”
“Well, thank God you’re okay.” He moved his hand out from under hers, and his tone switched back to business. “The whole family is very concerned about you. We still can’t believe it actually happened.”
A little disappointed, but not surprised the touchy-feely part of the conversation was apparently over, she sat up straight and tried to mimic his perfect posture. Hot then cold. Stay with the program. “Please thank everyone for the lovely bouquet.”
“I will, glad you got it.” He glanced at his watch, his brown eyes changing to hazel in the light streaming through the window. “Are you sure you’re up to doing the interview?”
“I’ve got the all-clear from my doctor. I’m excited about this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her notebook.
Michael’s cell phone rang. He held his hand up and looked at the phone. “Do you mind if I take this? It’ll only be a sec.”
Danica nodded. “No problem.”
Michael stood up. Walking to his desk, he pressed the handset. “Hello.”
Trying not to listen, she stroked the loveseat’s padded armrest and appraised the room.
“Yes, she’s here now.” With his back to her, Michael straightened a crooked plaque on the wall. “Uh, of course.” He turned and eyed Danica. “No, she looks great.”
Was he talking about her? Danica perked up, but kept a straight disinterested face.
“I will—I said, I will.” Michael rolled his eyes and pointed to his phone. She stifled a giggle, enjoying their private interplay. “Okay. See ya.” Michael hung up. “As I mentioned, my family is very concerned about you.” Smiling, he shoved the phone in his pocket. “That was Luca, asking about you. I assured him you’ve made a full recovery.”
“That was sweet.” For just a second, she was transported back to that summer after junior high school, and his youngest brother Luca. She’d completely lost track of him. Did he remember all that kissing they used to do?
“Okay, where were we?” Michael settled onto the loveseat next to her. “How are your parents?”
So polite. The man was perfection. “They’re fine, thanks for asking.”
He edged closer with a little smile on his impeccably smooth face. Studying the angle of his chiseled jawline, she didn’t detect a trace of afternoon stubble, not that she’d mind… “And your brothers, and Jess, all well, I hope?”
Her heart pounded. Maybe she had it all wrong? Michael was asking about her brothers? And Jess by name? He hadn’t done that before. Maybe Michael did have feelings for her. “Yep, doing great.” She grinned so broadly, she felt it in her cheeks.
“Good to hear, now tell me all about Little Miss Sunshine.” Michael leaned closer, the nubby wool of his pants brushing against her bare legs. “Sunshine. Napa Sun. It’s a perfect nickname for you. My Little Miss Sunshine.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but knew, from the heat of her face, she was blushing a deep, unflattering shade of purple. Was he saying she was like the sun to him? She stared at him expectantly.
“You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” Michael nudged her leg with his.
“No.” Her heart raced so fast she wasn’t sure she could still form words. “I-I like it.”
“Good.” He patted her knee, and she startled a little. Hating her overreaction, she took a deep breath and smoothed the front of her skirt.
“Tell me how the article is coming along,” he said. “I know you have questions.”
“Right. Let me find my place.” She flipped several pages of her notepad. “I’m not sure how to explain your biodynamic organic farming methods in a way that...I don’t mean to be insulting, here...but in a way people will want to read. All this talk about manure and composting just isn’t very sexy.”
She grinned over at him and Michael laughed. It was such a beautifully rich sound, it came from deep down Michael’s body and vibrated right into hers.
“Sexy? Ha! Everything about making wine is sexy!” He rested his arm across the back of the couch. “Maybe not the composting, though…”
“So you understand what I’m getting at?” Danica bit down on the back of her pen, and then, realizing what she was doing, took it out her mouth.
“Of course. Marketing is a big part of my job.” He frowned. “Let’s see how to put this so people will want to keep reading.”
He did it again. First he said My Little Miss Sunshine, now it’s we. Is he flirting with me, or what?
“Maybe we could avoid referring to manure and compost so much. You could just touch on it briefly, because it is a part of the dynamic. Essentially, it’s farming synergy.” Michael pulled his arm from the back of the couch, and straightened his back. “We’re not talking about sticking a row of grapevines in the ground. It’s all about the soil. The magic happens there. The compost, any animals that might make the compost, and the crops—in our case, grapes—all work together.”
Danica flipped a page of her notebook. “It’s quite a commitment to farm that way on such a massive level.”
“It’s not the easy way, and it’s certainly not the least expensive way.” Michael sighed. “But if we can apply natural principles to our vineyards and get the same kind of high-quality crops, it’ll be so much better for the land, and the consumers, in the long run.”
Their eyes met, and his face lit up with a wide, beautiful smile. Listening to Michael explain his passion for eliminating s
ynthetic sprays and chemical additives in detail, Danica kept her pen moving across the page, but part of her mind drifted elsewhere. Outside, on an Instagram-worthy summer day, Danica and Michael picked grapes in the vineyard…
Michael tapped her knee. “Do you need some reference material on soil, Danica? Because I’ve got a file—”
“No, ah, thanks Michael.” She came back to reality. “I’ve got it. The soil is its own orgasm.” Oh, my God. Holy shit. Crap.
Michael’s eyes flashed. “I haven’t heard it described quite that way before.”
“The soil is treated as its own organism, sorry.” Danica kept her gaze level, trying hard not to reveal her embarrassment. “And yes, I would appreciate any reference materials you may have on soil, and also the chemical additives you’re eliminating from your crops.”
Jayne popped her head in the office. “Your three o’clock is here, Michael.”
“Thank you.” Michael stood up. “Let me get those materials for you, Danica.”
Danica gathered her belongings and followed him to the antique filing cabinet behind his desk.
She couldn’t get over her gaffe. Pulses of heat emanating from her neck crept to her face as the word orgasm, orgasm, orgasm, kept replaying in her brain. She took advantage of standing behind Michael, and got her blush under control while he rifled through folders. “Got it.” He closed the drawer and held the files out to her. Their eyes connected for a moment. “I’m sorry I laughed at you.”
“It was funny.” Danica reached for the files. Heat and power rolled off him from a foot away. He is attracted to me. I am not imagining this.
“Thank you for giving biodynamic farming the attention it deserves.” His eyes sparkled. “I’m proud our winery is one of the first to use this method of cultivation.”
“I’m happy to write it, Michael, and thanks for all the help.” She let out a long sigh. “So this is probably our last interview, because I’m almost finished with your story. I’ll be focusing on Crushers baseball now …”
