“I suppose you’d be happier if he or she wants to pick grapes.”
“I—I just think we shouldn’t be making plans for the child’s future yet. It’s too early. You don’t want to court bad luck.”
Funny, Louisa wouldn’t have pegged Nico as the superstitious type. She supposed it came from being a farmer. No counting on the harvest until it happens or something like that.
Marianna acknowledged his reluctance with a frown. “Fine,” she said. “We’ll wait until he or she is born before making plans.
“Although I still think she’s going to be a football player,” she said under her breath.
They brainstormed ideas for a while, until a problem in the wine cellar drew Nico away. Louisa and Marianna continued for a little while longer, but it was obvious the pregnant woman was beginning to tire, despite her protests.
“Story of my life,” Marianna said with a yawn. “I can’t do anything for more than a half hour before needing a nap.”
“Might as well enjoy it while you can,” Louisa told her. “Who knows when you’ll get this much sleep again?”
The brunette nodded as if she’d delivered some great wisdom. “So true. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can talk more about the project.”
The two women walked to the front door. As usual, the few employees in the production area watched as they passed by. Marianna waved to each one with a smile while Louisa tucked her hair behind her ear and tried to act nonchalant. The past hour, watching Nico and his sister tease each other back and forth, had been the most relaxed she’d felt in forty-eight hours. She hated the idea that as soon as Marianna left, the atmosphere would go back to being tense and awkward.
They’d reached the door to the front office when Marianna suddenly turned serious. “May I ask you a question?” she asked.
Louisa’s stomach tensed. Things had been going so well. What would change Marianna’s mood so abruptly? It didn’t help to see the other woman looking over her shoulder for potential eavesdroppers. “Of course,” she said. “Anything.”
“Is it me, or was Nico strangely disinterested when we were talking about the baby?”
Now that she mentioned it, Nico’s reaction had been odd, especially considering how invested he had been when Marianna had first announced her pregnancy. Of course, at the time Marianna and her husband had been estranged and he had been worried about his sister’s future. “You heard him; he doesn’t want to court bad luck,” she said.
“I know, but he’s never been superstitious before,” Marianna replied with a frown. “If anything, I’d expect him to tell me superstition was a bunch of nonsense. He used to hate it whenever our mother saw one of her omens.”
“Your mother saw omens?”
“Oh, all the time. Usually after a fight with my father telling her they should make up.”
Interesting. “Well, this is the first baby in the Amatucci family. Maybe it’s making him tap into his roots.”
“Maybe. He does like tradition.”
“Plus, he’s probably distracted. He has been super busy, between harvest and helping the town get ready for the festival.” And finding time to help her.
“That is true. He does seem more distracted than usual these days.” Marianna’s frown quickly turned into a smile that was disarmingly similar to her brother’s. “At least some of those distractions are good distractions, no?”
She didn’t think that Louisa and he... The brunette’s eyes sparkled, causing Louisa’s stomach to tumble. “You said you didn’t believe the papers.”
“Oh, I don’t believe the stuff about Luscious Louisa, but you and Nico... I saw that photo of the two of you dancing.” She nudged Louisa’s shoulder. “Molto romantico.”
“It was just the camera angle,” Louisa said, shaking her head. “The two of us are just friends.”
“Friends, eh? Did he really throw a photographer off your balcony?”
Louisa sighed. “Yes, but again, it’s not what you think. He was helping me out. You know your brother. If there’s a situation that needs handling, he automatically takes charge.”
“Hmm. I do know my brother,” Marianna said with an odd smile.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. You are completely right. My brother does like to take charge. And in this case, I couldn’t be happier.”
Meaning she still thought they were involved. Louisa would have to have Nico set his sister straight. Still, it was nice to know her friend didn’t think Louisa was out to seduce Nico for his money. Her trust meant a lot.
“You really don’t care about what they said about me...about what happened in Boston? What they implied I was doing here in town?”
“Don’t be silly. You’re not responsible for what your ex-husband did. And you’re the last person I’d call a temptress. I mean, look at what you’re wearing...” She gestured at Louisa’s jeans and green cotton sweater. “I’m dressed more seductively.”
“It’s the stiletto heels. They make everything seductive.” Louisa tried to punctuate the remark with a laugh, but tears sprang to her eyes anyway. Marianna would never know how much her faith meant. Unable to form the words, she threw her arms around the pregnant woman’s neck.
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to get teary around a pregnant woman? My hormones won’t be able to take it and I’ll start crying, too.” The young woman squeezed her tight, then released her with a watery grin. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Wiping her own eyes, Louisa nodded. “Do you mind if I don’t walk you any farther? There might be reporters hiding across the street.”
“Of course, I understand. And Louisa?” The brunette reached out to squeeze Louisa’s hand. “I’m glad you and my brother are such good friends. He doesn’t have that many.”
Not many friends? “You’re kidding right? We are talking about the same Nico Amatucci, aren’t we?” The man with charisma to spare.
“Those are acquaintances, not real friends. He doesn’t open himself up to many people. That makes you special.”
Special. Right. Marianna’s hormones were definitely out of whack.
A sound caught her attention. Looking across the room, she spied Nico talking to an employee by the wine cellar doorway. Almost as if he knew she was thinking about him, he stopped what he was doing to look in her direction. He smiled and, for a moment, Louisa swore the entire winery tipped on its axis. That makes you special...
Apparently, Marianna wasn’t the only one out of whack.
* * *
Louisa was upstairs asleep when Nico got home. He’d planned it that way. Following their embrace the day before, he decided it made sense for them to keep as much distance as possible, so he made a point of working as late as possible, along with heading into the fields before sunrise. The idea was for the long hours to make him too tired to remember the way her body had fit against his, allowing him to sleep without disturbance.
He didn’t count on Marianna stopping by and stirring up other disturbing thoughts.
His sister was having a baby, he thought as he poured a glass of Chianti. Despite knowing this for months, it hadn’t truly dawned on him until she’d called him Uncle Nico that she was starting a family of her own. Both she and his brother, Angelo, were moving forward with their lives, while here he was in the ancestral home maintaining the past. He, who was so determined never to repeat the madness of his parents.
Settling back on the sofa, he stared in the dim light at the dark square of the unlit fireplace. In his head, he could hear the sound of his parents laughing and clinking glasses. When they were happy, they laughed a lot, but when they stopped laughing... At least his father stayed in nice hotels when Mama threw him out.
All highs and lows, Carlos used to say. No in betweens. He never understood how that worked. How people could go from hot to cold to hot again in the blink of an eye. He once told Floriana that it was one thing to have passion in the bedroom, but it was quite another to have passion ru
le your life. Right before Floriana left, she told him that he had no passion, period.
She’d made a strong argument. He’d barely blinked when she’d said it.
He wondered what she would have said if she’d seen him throw that photographer off the balcony? Probably that she didn’t recognize him. Again, she would have a point; Nico barely recognized himself the past couple of days, he was behaving so out of character.
Maybe Louisa really was a siren like the tabloids said. The thought made him chuckle into his glass.
“Nico? Is that you?”
The object of his thoughts appeared at the top of the stairs, a backlit silhouette. It took about two seconds for Nico to become aroused. Another thing that was out of character for him was how he couldn’t seem to stop wanting her. Usually, when a woman said she wasn’t interested, he moved on. No sense knocking on a door that wouldn’t open. With Louisa, however, he didn’t want to just knock, he wanted to kick the door in.
“Sorry to wake you,” he said. “I was just having a glass of wine before bed.”
“Long day?”
“Harvest takes a lot of preparation. Did Mario get you home all right?” He’d ordered his intern to escort her in case there were photographers lying in wait.
“He did. I hope you don’t mind, but I got hungry and made some dinner. Puttanesca. There are leftovers in the fridge.”
The notion of her at home in his kitchen caused a curious end-over-end sensation in the center of his chest. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Good night,” she said. Her silhouette hesitated. “Will I see you at breakfast?”
He thought of how good she looked drinking espresso across from him, and the sensation repeated itself. “Afraid not. I have to be in the fields early.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll see you at the winery then.”
Any disappointment he heard in her voice was pure imagination. As he finished his Chianti, he made a note to take the newspapers with him again when he left tomorrow. The “Royal Wedding Scandal,” as they were calling it now, continued to dominate the tabloids, and he wanted to protect Louisa from the exposure.
Is that the argument you’re using? Not that you don’t want her leaving town? The very thought of her getting on the bus made his heart seize.
Out of character indeed.
* * *
The newspapers were missing again. For the second day in a row, Louisa came down for breakfast to discover both Nico and the papers gone from the house.
Who did he think he was, censoring her reading material?
She tracked him down in the fields and asked him that exact question.
“Keep your voice down, bella mia,” he replied. “Unless you want people to know about our living arrangement.” He nodded down the row where a pair of farm hands were watching them with curiosity. “And to answer your question, I wasn’t aware I was ‘censoring’ anything.”
“Then where are the newspapers?”
“I took them with me to read over coffee.”
“Read about the Royal Wedding Scandal, you mean.”
“Where did you hear about that?” The mask of indifference he’d been wearing slipped, proving his deception. Louisa glared at him. “Princess Christina called me this morning to ask how I was doing. She wanted me to know she and Prince Antonio didn’t care what people were saying.”
“See? Didn’t I tell you that your friends would stand by you?”
Yes, he had, and Christina’s phone call had meant more to her than she could say. That wasn’t the point at the moment, however. “Don’t try to change the topic. This is about you keeping information from me.”
Nico sighed. “I was trying to protect you from useless gossip.”
“Useless or not, you don’t have the right to decide what I read and what I don’t read.” She rubbed her arms. Despite the sun beating down, her skin had turned to gooseflesh. She felt as though she’d had this conversation before with Steven. Only then the argument had been in her head because she’d not dared to speak her mind. Today was the first time she’d said the words aloud.
“I’m sorry. You were so upset by the headlines the other morning, I wanted to save you further distress.” While talking, he pulled a grape off the vine and crushed it between his fingers. “I hate seeing you sad,” he added, staring at his stained fingers.
The sweetness behind his answer dispelled a little of her anger. Only a little, however. “That’s not your call to make, Nico. It’s not your job to protect me from the headlines.”
“No, just the paparazzi,” he replied.
Louisa winced. He had her there. She was using him for protection, making her indignation over the newspapers sound more than a little hypocritical. “Do you want me to move back to the palazzo?”
“Do you want to move back?”
She toed the dirt with her sandal. Short answer? No. She liked having him nearby. Which meant maybe she should move back. “I don’t know.”
“Oh.” He grabbed his satchel, which sat on the ground by his feet, and headed down the row.
She followed him. Thankfully the workers had moved to another row, leaving them in privacy. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“You’re not a prisoner, Louisa. You can do whatever you want.”
Though cool, she could still hear the hint of hurt in his voice. Problem was, what she wanted scared her. She wanted the security she felt when she was wrapped in Nico’s arms. Which is exactly the opposite of why you came to Italy in the first place. What happened to standing on your own two feet for a change?
“So what did the headlines say anyway?” she asked.
“You mean you didn’t go online and look?”
“No.” Her cheeks burned. Going online would have been the easy solution, but she’d been too busy being indignant to turn on the computer. “I came looking for you instead.”
“Well, you didn’t miss much,” Nico replied.
“Apparently I did, or you wouldn’t have taken the papers.” And he wouldn’t be studying the Sangiovese leaves so intently. The winemaker had two very distinct stares, she’d come to realize. His intense “never missed a beat” stare that made her skin tingle, and his “I’m not telling you the whole story so I’m going to look at something else” stare. “Tell me.”
“No doubt Christina told you about the royal wedding part. Halencia’s government is afraid you might try to entice the royal family into making dubious investments.”
“She told me.” That wasn’t the whole story, though. Not based on how Nico continued to stare at the vines. He took a deep breath. “They also interviewed my former fiancée.”
CHAPTER SIX
“OH.” IT WAS not the answer Louisa expected. She had suspected the papers would continue plumbing their erstwhile romance, but, in her self-involved haze, she hadn’t thought about them digging into Nico’s past. Dozens of questions came to mind, but the only words she could manage to say out loud were “I didn’t realize you’d been engaged.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
But not so long ago the memory didn’t bother him. “Did she say something bad?” Was that why he continued to avoid her eyes?
“Actually she was surprisingly diplomatic. But then, Floriana was—is—a very good person.”
If she was so good, why then why was she an ex? Louisa tried to picture the kind of woman Nico would propose to. Someone beautiful, no doubt. And smart. She would have to be smart to keep up with him. More questions came to mind, like what had kept them from the altar? From the shadows filling his expression, the decision hadn’t been his, at least not completely.
Her annoyance from before all but forgotten, she reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry if it dredged up a lot of bad memories.”
At last, he shifted his gaze, turning from the grapes to where her fingers rested on his forearm. As always happened, when his eyes fell on her, the attention made her body tingle. “Not everyone is made to get married
.”
True or not, his answer, with its lonely, resigned tone, hurt her to hear. Louisa found it hard to think of Nico as ever being lonely—the concepts Nico and alone seemed like polar opposites. But lines had suddenly appeared around his mouth and eyes as he spoke, lines that could only be etched from sadness.
“Sometimes we just pick the wrong person the first time around, is all,” she said, thinking of her own mistake.
“Sometimes. I should check the Brix content on these vines.” Pulling away from her touch, he reached for his satchel.
He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine. If anyone understood the need to bury past mistakes, she did, and if changing topics took the sadness away from his eyes, all the better.
Nico wasn’t the only one who hated to see another person sad.
“Are they ready for harvest?” she asked.
“You tell me.” Picking a grape, he pressed it to her lips. Louisa could taste the sweetness the moment she bit down. Once she moved past the feel of his fingers on her lips, that is. “Mmm, delicious.”
“If the sugar content matches up, I’ll tell the foreman to have his team start working this field tomorrow. By the time we finish, the other fields, yours, should be ready.”
“You mean they aren’t all ready at the same time?” She stole another grape. The fruit was still sweet, but it didn’t make her lips respond like the one he fed her had.
“Grapes on the northern side of the vineyard always ripen sooner. They’re on a slope angled to get the most sun throughout the day. Carlos used to call Northern grapes favorito della Natura because they got the most sunshine.”
“Nature’s favorites?”
“He had names for all the fields. The ones in the southern field he called scontroso—grumpy—because they were often slow to ripen.”
“Wouldn’t you be grumpy, too, if the other field was the favorite?”
“That’s what I used to tell him.”
Louisa smiled, imagining the two men walking the rows, nicknaming the plants. “Carlos sounds like a character.”
“He was a very wise man. A born winemaker.”
Harlequin Romance February 2016 Box Set Page 8
