by Nora Roberts
might as well be dead out here without wheels." He flopped back on the bed to brood up at the ceiling.
Maddy just shook her head. "You're such a moron, Theo."
"You're so ugly, Maddy."
"You're never going to get a car if you nag him. If I help you get a car, you have to drive me to the mall twelve times, without being mean about it."
"How are you going to help me get a car, you little geek?" But he was already considering. She almost always got what she wanted.
She sauntered into the room, made herself at home. "First the deal. Then we discuss."
Tereza was not of the opinion that a parent stepped back at a certain point in a child's life and watched the proceedings in silence. After all, would a mother stand on shore and watch a child, whatever her age, bob helplessly in the sea without diving in?
Motherhood didn't end when a child reached her majority. In Tereza's opinion, it never ended. Whether the child liked it or not.
The fact that Pilar was a grown woman with a grown daughter of her own didn't stop Tereza from going to her room. And it certainly didn't stop her from speaking her mind as she watched Pilar dress for her evening out.
Her evening out with David Cutter.
"People will talk."
Pilar fumbled with her earrings. Every stage of the basic act of dressing had taken on enormous proportions.
"It's only dinner." With a man. An attractive man who'd made it perfectly clear he wanted to sleep with her. Dio.
"People find fuel for gossip in a thought. They'll run their engines for some time over you and David socializing together."
Pilar picked up her pearls. Were pearls too formal? Too old-fashioned? "Does that trouble you, Mama?"
"Does it trouble you?"
"Why should it? I haven't done anything to interest anyone." With fingers that seemed to have grown outsized and clumsy, she fought with the clasp.
"You're Giambelli." Tereza crossed the room, took the strand from Pilar's hand and hooked the clasp. "That alone is enough. Do you think because you chose to make a home and raise a daughter you've done nothing of interest?"
"You made a home, raised a daughter and ran an empire. Comparatively, I fall very short. That was made clear today."
"You're being foolish."
"Am I, Mama?" She turned. "Just over two months ago you tossed me into the business, and it's taken me no time at all to prove I have no talent for it."
"I shouldn't have waited so long to do so. If I hadn't tossed you in, you'd have proven nothing. Years ago, I came here with specific goals in mind. I would run Giambelli and see it was the best in the world. I would marry and raise children, watch them grow happy and healthy."
Automatically she began to rearrange the bottles and pots on Pilar's vanity. "One day I would pass what I'd helped build into their hands. The many children I dreamed of weren't to be. I'm sorry for that, but not that you're my child. You may be sorry that your goals of marriage and children didn't come to be. But are you sorry, Pilar, that Sophia is yours?"
"Of course not."
"You think I'm disappointed in you." Her eyes met Pilar's in the mirror, and were level, clear. "And I was. I was disappointed that you allowed a man to rule your life, that you allowed him to make you feel less than you were. And because you did nothing to change it."
"I loved him for a long time. That may have been my mistake, but you can't dictate to your own heart."
"You think not?" Tereza asked. "In any case, nothing I said to you could sway you. And, in looking back, my mistake was in making it too easy for you to stay adrift the way you did. That's over now, and you're too young not to make new goals. I want you to take part in your heritage, to be part of what was passed to me. I insist on it."
"Even you can't make me a businesswoman."
"Then make yourself something else," Tereza said impatiently as she turned to face Pilar directly. "Stop thinking of yourself as a reflection of what a man saw in you, and be. I asked you if it bothered you that people will talk. I wish you'd said the hell with people. Let them talk. It's time you gave them something to talk about."
Surprised, Pilar shook her head. "You sound like Sophie."
"Then listen. If you want David Cutter, even for the moment, take. A woman who sits and waits to be given usually ends up empty-handed."
"It's only dinner," Pilar began, then broke off as Maria came to the door.
"Mr. Cutter is downstairs."
"Thank you, Maria. Tell him Miss Pilar will be right down." Tereza turned back to her daughter, recognized, even approved of, the slight panic she saw in Pilar's eyes. "You had that same look on your face when you were sixteen and a young man waited for you in the parlor. It's good to see it again." She leaned forward, brushed her lips over Pilar's cheek. "Enjoy your evening."
Alone, Pilar took a moment to settle. She wasn't sixteen, and it was only dinner, she reminded herself as she started out. It would be simple, it would be civilized and it would most probably be quite pleasant. That was all.
Nervous, she opened her bag at the top of the stairs to make certain she'd remembered everything. She blinked in shock as she dipped her fingers in and closed them over two packs of Trojans.
Sophia, she thought as she hastily shut the bag again. For God's sake! The laugh that tickled her throat was young and foolish. When she let it come she felt ridiculously relieved.
She went downstairs to see what happened next.
It was a date. There was no other word for it, Pilar admitted. Nothing else brought this rosy glow to an evening or put this giddiness in the belly. It might have been decades since she'd had a date, but it was coming back to her, loud and clear.
She might have forgotten what it was like to sit across a candlelit table from a man and talk. Just talk. More, to have that man listen, to have attention paid. To watch his lips curve at something she said. But remembering it, experiencing it again, was like being offered a cool sip of water before you'd realized how desperately thirsty you'd become.
Not that she intended to let anything come of it but, well, friendship. Every time she let herself think of what her own daughter had slipped into her purse, Pilar's palms went damp.
But a friendship with an attractive, interesting man would be lovely.
"Pilar! How wonderful to see you."
Pilar recognized the cloud of scent and the cheerful bite of the voice before she looked up. "Susan." She was already fixing on her social smile. "Don't you look wonderful. Susan Manley, David Cutter."
"No, don't get up, don't get up." Susan, glowingly blond and just out of recovery from her latest face-lift, fluttered a hand at David. "I was just on my way back to my table from powdering my nose, and saw you here. Charlie and I are here with some out-of-town clients of his. Dead bores, too," she said with a wink. "I was just saying to Laura the other day how we should get together. It's been so long. I'm glad to see you out, and looking so well, honey. I know what a horrible time this has been for you. Such a shock to everyone."
"Yes." Pilar felt the quick sting of the prick, and the slow deflate of the pleasure of the evening. "I appreciated your note."
"I only wish I could have done more. Well, we don't want to talk about sad things, do we." She gave Pilar's arm a little squeeze, even as she sized up her dinner companion. "I hope your mother's well."
"Very, thank you."
"I have to get along. Can't leave poor Charlie floundering with those two. So nice to meet you, Mr. Cutter. Pilar, I'm going to call you next week. We'll have lunch."
"I'll count on it," Pilar replied, then picked up her wine as Susan glided off. "I'm sorry. The Valley's not much more than a small town in some ways. It's hard to go anywhere without running into people you know."
"Then why apologize for it?"
"It's awkward." She set down her wine again, left her fingers on the stem to run up and down. "And as my mother predicted, people will talk."
"Really?" He took her hand from the glass.
"Then let's give them something to talk about." He brought her hand to his lips, nibbled lightly on the knuckles. "I like Susan," David said as Pilar stared at him. "She gave me the opening to do this. What," he wondered aloud, "do you suppose she'll say to Laura tomorrow when she calls her?"
"I can only imagine. David." There were thrills rocketing up her arm. Even when she slid her hand from his they shivered along the skin. "I'm not looking for… anything."
"That's funny, neither was I. Until I saw you." He leaned forward, intimately. "Let's do something sinful."
The blood rushed to her head. "What?"
"Let's"—his voice dropped into a seductive whisper—"order dessert."
The breath that had clogged in her lungs came out in a laughing whoosh. "Perfect."
And it was perfect, the drive home in the night under chilly stars and a cold white moon. Music playing softly on the radio as they debated, with some heat, a book they'd both recently read. Later, she'd think how odd it was to have felt so relaxed and so stimulated all at once.
She nearly sighed as she saw the lights of the villa. Nearly home, she thought. She'd started out the evening almost swallowed by her own nerves, and was ending it with regret that it couldn't have lasted longer.
"Kids are still up," David commented, noting the guest house was lit up like a Vegas casino. "I'll have to kill them."
"Yes, I've noticed what a terrifying and brutal father you are. And how your children fear you."
He slanted her a look. "I wouldn't mind seeing the occasional tremble out of them."
"I think it's way too late for that. You've gone and raised two happy, well-adjusted kids."
"Still working on it." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Theo got into some trouble back in New York. Shoplifting, sneaking out of the apartment. His grades, never stellar, plummeted."
"I'm sorry, David. The teenage years can be hard on everyone. Harder still when you're a single parent. I could tell you some hair-raising stories about Sophia at that age. Your son is a nice young man. I imagine that sort of behavior was just normal acting out."
"Gave me the jolt I suppose I needed. I was letting him run just a little too free because it was easier. Not enough hours in the day, not enough energy left at the end of it. It was harder on Maddy than Theo when their mother left, so I compensated more with her than him."
"Second guesses," she said. "I know all about them."
"I was into third guesses with Theo and Maddy. Anyway, that's one of the reasons I opted to buy the van and drive cross-country instead of dumping us all in a plane. It gave us some time. Nothing like a three-thousand-mile drive in an enclosed vehicle to cement a family unit—if you live through it."
"It was very brave of you."
"You want to talk courage?" He drove easily up the lane to the villa. "I've been chief taste-tester on this wine experiment Maddy's conducting. It's brutal."
She chuckled. "Be sure to let us know if we've got a competitor in the making." She started to reach for the door handle, but his hand came to her shoulder, stopped her.
"I'll come around. Let's finish the evening off right."
Nerves rolled back. Just exactly what did he mean by that? she wondered as he walked around the van. Was she supposed to ask him in so they could neck in the parlor? Surely not. It was out of the question.
He'd just walk her to the door. They could say good night, perhaps exchange a casual—very casual—kiss. Between friends, she reminded herself and geared back up as he opened her door.
"Thanks. It was a lovely dinner, a lovely evening."
"For me, too." He took her hand, not surprised to find it chilled. He'd seen the wariness come back into her eyes when he'd opened the door. And didn't mind it, not a bit. He wasn't above getting an ego boost from knowing he unnerved a woman.
"I want to see you again, Pilar."
"Oh. Well, of course. We're—"
"Not in company," he said, turning her toward him when they stood on the veranda. "Not for business. Alone." He drew her closer. "And for very personal reasons."
"David—"
But his mouth was on hers again. Gently, this time. Persuasively. Not with that abrupt and shocking flash of heat that had rudely slapped all those sleeping urges awake, but with a slow and simmering warmth that patiently unknotted every snag of tension inside her. Loosened her until her bones felt like wax melting.
When he drew back, his hands were on her face, fingers skimming over her cheekbones, then down, trailing lightly over her throat. "I'll call you."
She nodded, reached blindly behind her for the door. "Good night, David."
She stepped inside, closed the door. No matter how foolish she told herself she was, she knew she floated all the way upstairs.
The caves always made Sophia think of a smuggler's paradise. All those big, echoing spaces filled with huge casks of aging wine. She'd always enjoyed spending time there, and even when she was a child one of the winemakers would let her sit at a little table and sample a small glass from one of the casks.
She'd learned, very young, to tell the difference, through sight, through scent, through palate, between a premium vintage and an ordinary one. To understand the subtleties that lifted one wine over another.
If it had spoiled her for the ordinary, what was the harm in that? She looked for, recognized and demanded quality because she'd been taught to tolerate nothing less.
It wasn't wine she was thinking of now, though the wines had been drawn from the aging vats, and glasses were set out for sampling. It was men she had on her mind.
She'd made a study of them as well, she liked to think. She knew an inferior blend, recognized one who was likely to leave a bitter aftertaste and one who would prove himself over time.
That was why, she believed, she'd had no long-term, no serious relationship with a man herself. None of the ones she'd sampled had the right flavor, the proper bouquet, as it were, to convince her she'd be content with only one variety.
Though she was perfectly confident in her ability to make the right choices for herself, and to be able to enjoy without consequences the tasting flights, she wasn't so confident about her mother's skill in the same area.
"It's their third date in two weeks."
"Mmm." Ty held a glass of claret to an open fire to check its color. He, like his grandfather, like La Signora, stuck firm with the old and traditional methods. He rated it a two for both color and clarity, and noted down the superior marks on his chart.
"My mother and David." To get his attention, Sophia punched him lightly on the arm.
"What about them?"
"They're going out again tonight. Third time in two weeks."
"And that's my business because?"
She heaved out a breath. "She's vulnerable. I can't say I don't like him, because I do. And I didn't particularly want to. I even encouraged her initially when he showed some interest in her, but I thought it was just a little fling coming around."
"Sophia, it may surprise you, but I'm working here, and I really don't want to talk about your mother's personal business."
He swirled the wine gently, stuck his nose in the glass and inhaled. His concentration was completely focused.
"They haven't had sex."
He winced visibly and lost the wine's bouquet. "Damn it, Sophie."
"If they'd had sex by now, I wouldn't have to worry. That would mean it was just a nice little physical attraction instead of a thing. I think it's becoming a thing. And how much do we know about David really? Other than from a professional standpoint. He's divorced and we don't know why. He might be a womanizer, or an opportunist. When you think about it, he started after my mother right after my father…"
Tyler nosed the wine again, noted down his numbers. "Which sounds like you're saying your mother wouldn't appeal to him on her own."
"I certainly am not." Insulted, Sophia snatched up a glass of Merlot, scowled through it into the light. "She's beautiful,
