by Kate Kisset
“No, don’t!” she shrieked, grabbing for his phone, but he swiveled away.
“Tight end, remember?” Brett teasingly waved the phone. “Let’s see.”
“Oh, God, please don’t,” she begged. “Please don’t read them.”
Ping. Ping. Ping, ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping.
Brett raised his eyebrows at the screen. “This ought to be good. Ten texts, five voice mails. Fifteen messages from Lilly Martelli.”
Oh, no. Lilly held her breath.
“First message. ‘I loved hanging out with you Sunday night. I can’t wait to see you again.’”
Gulp.
Brett grinned devilishly at the message. “As I recall, we did a lot more than hang out.” He scrolled. “Message two, ‘I miss you.’” He nodded and looked up. “I missed you too, by the way. Hmm, message three...” As he continued scanning through the messages, his smile disappeared.
He glanced up at her with concern, and then scrolled again. “You were really worried, Lilly,” he said keeping his eyes on the phone. “You didn’t know I was at the fire...”
“I told you not to read them...”
“Did you think I would just drop you like that...after everything?” He asked point-blank, looking peeved.
A jackhammer pounded away at her skull. “Yes—Well, no, I-I...didn’t kn—”
“What is this?” He turned the phone so she could see her message, and then to her horror, decided to read it aloud. “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” Brett’s jaw looked tight while he waited for an answer.
Lilly squirmed and looked up at the sky. “Okay, okay, I was a little worried.”
“Wait just a minute. Message ten.” He stared at the phone for a few beats.
Oh no.
“Do you remember what you wrote?” He stepped beside her and angled the screen away from the glare so they could both read what she wrote.
Message sent. Thursday 12:07pm
I’m falling in love with you.
“Did you mean it?” Brett looked shell-shocked.
“Um...” She didn’t want to scare him, and caught sight of Carl and his mom walking through the vineyards. What was she supposed to say?
“Did you mean it?” He asked again, sounding tense. She peeked at him just when he put the phone back in his pocket, then quickly looked away. “Lilly,” the words softened. “Please look at me.”
She gave up and looked Brett in the eye. “Yes,” she whispered, dropping her chin again. It was too hard to face him. “Yes. I meant it,” she sadly confessed. “And, yes, before you say anything. I know it’s way too early. It’s—”
“—exactly how I feel.”
Her brain came to a full stop. “It is?” she asked, while so many tingles and possibilities poured through her veins, she thought she’d levitate.
“And it’s not too early. When you know, you know...” Brett gave her a smile that made her heart bounce and her body lighter than air.
He reached for her hands and held them. His vivid blue eyes matched the sky. “You’re all I think about, Lilly. Being away from you only confirmed it. I couldn’t handle not seeing you again...or not having you in my life...on a more permanent basis.” His gaze locked on to hers, and she swore a song started playing somewhere inside. “And I’m not afraid to say it, but I think I’m past the point of no return. Is that okay with you?”
She nodded, eyes brimming with tears. “Yes. Yes, it’s perfectly okay,” she said in one breathless sweep. “I’m so happy... I’m so shocked, Brett, I—I don’t know what to say...”
He let go of her hands and cradled her face, his thumbs making lazy circles over her cheekbones, his eyes telling the entire story. “Then let me say it. I’ve waited a long time to meet someone like you.” His voice softened to a whisper. “And you were worth the wait. I’m not falling in love with you Lilly. I’m way past that. I’m in love with you.”
Brett leaned down, bringing his lips closer to hers, and she stretched up to meet him. Holding her so close, he kissed her, slowly and lovingly, and even through his big, furry suit, she felt his love pouring into her. Lilly blinked back happy tears, overcome by the realization, that for the first time in her life, one of her wishes had actually come true. She found love, exactly what she wanted for Christmas.
WANT MORE ROMANCE IN wine country?
Buy Jake Martelli’s story: Two to Tango, or jump into Love in the Vineyards with book #1 Love at Last.
Two to Tango (Sneak Peek)
Chapter One
Crouched next to her Toyota, using the car for cover, Scarlett Hale peered over the hood. There didn’t seem to be anything out of order. But then there rarely was in this quiet neighborhood of Victorian and Craftsman bungalow homes.
And surprisingly, there wasn’t a nosy neighbor in sight. If her family got wind of her being back in St. Helena without telling them, she’d have some explaining to do.
She double-checked the address and stuck her phone back in her pocket. Already in a sweat from ninety-degree weather and the fifty-five-mile drive from Davis, she shouldered her duffel and sprinted to the front yard. Skimming the perimeter of the immaculate garden, Scarlett spotted the fake blue rock in the corner near the rose bush, and made a beeline for it.
Her long brown ponytail swished against her back as she raced across the grass while keeping an eagle eye on her surroundings, knowing if any of the town's orthopedically-clad busybodies spotted her, they’d tattle.
Scarlett glanced over her shoulder again before tipping the rock over and finding the key exactly where her good friend, Sarah, said it would be. With it clamped in her fist, Scarlett tore across the yard, took two steps at a time up the front porch stairs, unlocked the door, dashed inside, and slammed it shut.
Whew! Mission accomplished.
Now she just had to stay out of sight until after tomorrow's meeting at the bakery.
She bolted the door behind her, turned...and the view took her breath away. A wall of windows revealed an olive tree-bordered patio with a fire pit, table, and sofas. Beyond, row after row of plump vines climbed up a rolling hill brushed with purple hues. It must have been a breeze that made the vines dip and shimmy. Or maybe the late afternoon light created an optical illusion. Whatever it was, the grapevines appeared to be dancing.
Scarlett blew out a sigh and looked around. Now, this is a great room.
To the right, in front of the wall of windows, a bright stainless steel kitchen with a basket of goodies, a cheese board, and a bottle of wine on a marble counter welcomed her. To the left, deep sofas surrounded a magnificent stone fireplace underneath the largest flat screen television she’d ever seen.
Naturally, Sarah had downplayed the accommodations when she referred to this place as a "cottage no one ever uses." And who could blame her? Sarah had been dating Hollywood’s golden boy, Jamie Santino for a few years now. Scarlett couldn’t imagine the private villas and penthouse suites Sarah was probably used to these days.
Under ordinary circumstances, Scarlett wouldn’t have accepted Sarah’s invitation. But when Sarah called with the scoop that the owners of the Cupcake Palace in Napa wanted to sell the business and move to Willamette Valley, Scarlett took Sarah up on her offer and hightailed to St. Helena, before the word got out. Sarah convinced her that her good friends Thomas and Nancy Kellerman, were looking for the right person and not necessarily the highest bidder, to take over the business they’d spent almost two decades nurturing.
Scarlett had been dreaming about, and saving up for her own bakery for as long as she could remember, going all the way back to when she worked for Sarah at Sweet Mo, her place on Fillmore in San Francisco. Scarlett never imagined there would be an opportunity for her in wine country.
St. Helena was only a twenty-five-minute drive from Napa. If the meeting went well tomorrow—Scarlett tried not to get her hopes up—but if it did, she’d be thrilled to move back to her home town and live so close to Sarah in
Sonoma. And her family would be ecstatic.
Scarlett’s flip-flops slapped against the beige flagstone tiles while she carried her duffel through the great room and down the hall on the left, to the bedroom Sarah said would be hers. Feeling like a snoop, even though there was no reason to, she cautiously peeked into the room before tiptoeing in. What have we here? A bedroom made for a princess with very high-end taste?
Glancing up occasionally to watch the dimming light play on the vines through the French doors, Scarlett tossed the duffel bag on the bed and unpacked her perfectly bland, perfectly suited-for-any-occasion wardrobe.
With the sunset sky bouncing grenadine hues off the cream bedroom walls, Scarlett made a pact with herself to do a little shopping after tomorrow’s meeting. After all, she was taking time off for the first time in years. There would be no three am alarm, and she didn’t have to wear her basic baking uniform of jeans, clogs and a T-shirt. Not that she minded wearing them, her heart raced with excitement. What a difference it would make to bake in my own kitchen.
Thankfully, the Top Ramen dinner she packed—so she could stay in hiding and avoid shopping—survived the road trip relatively unscathed at the bottom of her duffel.
After freshening up, she took off her bra and slingshotted it into an open drawer. The torture device had been digging into her all day.
Then she changed into her most faded and beloved yoga pants and a tee, grabbed the dented Top Ramen Styrofoam cup, and traipsed back toward the kitchen to investigate. By the look of the spread on the counter she passed on the way in, she could save the dried noodles for another day.
Still clutching her Top Ramen, she entered the front room. The sun had set, and the view out the enormous window was dark now.
The kitchen light was on.
She crept closer and quickly scanned the kitchen, from the window to the basket on the counter and down.
She froze.
Fear pulsed through her in quick spurts. With his broad back facing her, a man with well groomed, short, chestnut hair, wrapped in only a towel, was crouched in front of the counter, rummaging through a bottom cabinet full of pans, and making a racket. Metal clanged against metal, banging and reverberating through the space...
...and still Scarlett couldn’t move. An assailant so cocky he doesn’t bother to put a shirt on? The front door. Get. To. The. Door. Scarlett sucked in a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs.
The man ducked, grabbed his towel, and looked wildly around the room. “What?!”
She hadn’t meant to scream, didn’t have time to think twice, just hurled the Top Ramen at him with all her might. The mixture of adrenaline and skill from her years on Oregon State's softball team propelled the soup at a high speed in a straight line.
Thwack! It smacked him square on the forehead.
“Ow...”
The intruder was none other than Jake Martelli, San Francisco sportscaster, Jamie Santino’s cousin, and the man she spent the majority of Shae Hayes’s wedding reception with.
He straightened and hit his head on the lip of the countertop. “Shit.” Rubbing his scalp, he scrambled to his feet, one hand still clutching the towel. “Hey. Hi. Wow.”
“What are you doing here?” Sarah hadn’t mentioned she’d be sharing the place. And certainly not with him. What the hell, Sarah?
Scarlett’s freaked-out brain rushed back to the memory of dancing with Jake on an almost empty dance floor under dim lights.
During the reception, which lasted all night, they progressed from fast dances to slow songs until finally they were rocking in place, hugging and holding each other to the music. And during the old Chicago song, Color My World, their bodies melted together.
She’d been in flames all night. And right when they were about to kiss, Shae interrupted, wanting to say goodbye before she left for her honeymoon.
“I’m sorry I scared you.” Jake put a pan down on the counter. “You have exceptional form, by the way.”
“Sorry I hit you.” Scarlett peered at the ceiling, searching for a stray cobweb, something—anything—to keep her eyes off him. After Jessica and Jim’s wedding, she and Jake would bump into each other a few times a year usually around the holidays when she was home visiting.
Although the timing hadn’t been right, because one or the other was always with a date, Scarlett felt those sneaky tingles of possibility around Jake every time she saw him.
She didn’t want to look again, and really didn’t mean to, but the sight of Jake’s gorgeous face and moist-from-the-shower, tanned, muscular body overpowered any rational thinking. With his towel draped precariously low, exposing the curvature of his pelvis...which was, quite frankly, made to make a woman’s eyes travel down to where the trail of hair would no doubt lead to the happiest place on earth...Scarlett did what any woman would do. She gawked. Mouth wide open.
And...Jake caught her staring. Making a miraculous recovery from his head injury, his dark, sexy eyes flashed across the room in obvious flirt mode. “It’s nice to see you too.”
“Why aren’t you dressed?” she demanded.
“Probably for the same reason you’re not wearing a bra.” His eyes locked on her chest, his stare stepping from left to right and back again. “Like I said, it’s great to see you.”
His raspy, deep voice triggered another round of delightful thrills, which didn’t help her concentration. Scarlett hadn’t experienced a solitary, male-driven flutter since her fiancé confessed he'd fallen out of love with her.
“It’s nice to see you, too,” slipped out of her mouth. She contemplated the lock of hair on his forehead, his sculpted chin, his chest, and south. She caught herself at his belly button, feeling heat rush up to her cheeks. Adding insult to blushing, her nipples brushed against her T-shirt, sending a wake-up call below.
Scarlett folded her arms, making a silent promise to kill Sarah, who also just happened to be at Jessica and Jim’s wedding. This had to be a setup. There was no other explanation.
Three quick knocks on the front door interrupted their stunned silence.
“Expecting anyone?” Unfortunately, Jake still clutched his towel, eliminating the possibility of it hitting the floor or even flying open.
Another round of pounds rattled through the house.
“I’ve got this.” Scarlett bolted, thanking the Lord for a reason to get away from the Jake eye-candy banquet. Sarah said she’d stop by, and boy was she ready to give her a piece of her mind. How could she even consider setting her up at a time like this? Scarlett straightened her T-shirt and took a deep breath...but every modicum of composure vanished when she turned the knob.
“What’s going on, Sarah?” she snapped. “What the hell are you up to?”
“I don’t think your mother would be pleased with your greeting, Scarlett,” Margherita Santino huffed. Clad in a beige cardigan and perma-press pants, she brought a bejeweled hand to her and patted her stiff brown bun.
Adjusting her tortoise rimmed glasses, she turned to a gray-haired woman standing next to her. Their facial features were almost identical, except the other woman’s hair was a mass of gray curls, and she wore a long, flowing blue caftan, gold dangling earrings, and about a pound of necklaces.
“Do you believe this?” she demanded of her as-yet-unnamed friend.
Great. The last thing Scarlett needed was to piss off Margherita Santino in front of her friend. Scarlett’s family had known the Santinos for years.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Santino.” Braless, with the matriarch’s half-naked nephew in the kitchen, Scarlett opened the door wider, gesturing for the women to enter. Nice way to make a good impression.
Clutching her purse close to her body, Ms. Santino scrutinized Scarlett. “You are in the presence of two Santinos. This is my sister, Charlotte Contessa Santino.”
Scarlett did a double take. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Scarlett couldn’t help bowing a little.
Charlotte’s pale blue eyes flickered, and then, s
eemingly as an afterthought, she presented a limp, freckled hand, palm down. “You may call me Cha-Cha.”
Of course. She’d met the queen of the Cha-Cha Pasta Empire before, briefly, at a party last Christmas the Majestic Hotel. Learning her nickname made the pieces of the puzzle come together. The slogan she’d heard a million times, “Cha-Cha Pasta. A little cha-cha in every bite,” rattled through her brain. She almost didn’t recognize the pasta queen in her maharishi muumuu.
Hesitantly, Scarlett shook her hand. Should she have kissed it?
“If you’re going to be on familiar terms with my sister,” Margherita declared, “you may call me Mimi.” Her brown eyes narrowed, overtly examining Scarlett’s face, then trailing down to her no doubt beet-red neck, and finally to her T-shirt. “Tsk, tsk.”
“I didn’t know you were coming over.” Scarlett rubbed the back of her neck. “Or I wouldn’t have changed into my comfy clothes.” She barely managed to resist the urge to ditch out the door and run like hell.
“Nonna?” Jake asked. “Aunt Mimi?”
“Darling!” Both women elbowed past Scarlett, waddling toward him, leaving hints of rum, cinnamon, and Aqua Net in their wake.
Jake planted two kisses on both of their cheeks and ushered them to the living room area. Mimi summoned Scarlett with a wave to join the family on the couch.
“A glass of wine? Hungry? There’s a box of Danishes in the kitchen,” Jake offered.
“So you saw them.” Cha-Cha beamed. “I visited my friend Lulu in Sonoma this afternoon and stopped by the Vine Café. Jamie’s lovely girlfriend Sarah made them.” She adjusted a multitude of jangling bangles and bracelets on her wrist. “I know they’re your favorite.”
Scarlett sank into the far corner of the couch near the fireplace, giving the Santino Sisters a wide berth.
“Thank you for the offer, dear, but we won’t be staying long." Mimi sniffed. "Speaking of Sarah, she asked us to stop by and explain the mix-up. But I can see you two are already”—she tossed Scarlett one raised brow and then winked at Cha-Cha—“adjusting to the situation perfectly.”
