Can't Hurry Love

by Christie Ridgway

  Her sister bounced on the cushions, the dimple at the side of her mouth flickering. “Jules, I’ve had the most brilliant idea!”

  “Does this involve blindsiding Penn with another wedding proposal?”

  Allie grinned, unrepentant. “But look how well that turned out.” Her arms flew wide. “I’m obnoxiously happy.”

  It was hard not to smile in the face of all that unrelenting good humor. And it was hard not to feel that Allie deserved every mote of it after the sad outcome of her first wedding attempt. Love and marriage could work if the couple was the right mix of personality and heart. Allie and Penn and Stevie and Jack proved that.

  Some pairings, however, clashed, and a woman who worked in the wine business understood that, too.

  Allie’s eyes narrowed. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”

  Giuliana tried shaking off her lowering mood. “Tell me about your brilliant idea.”

  Her sister seemed to sparkle. “It’s about the Vow-Over Weekend.”

  Of course it was about the Vow-Over Weekend scheduled for the last days in June. “That’s what we’ve all been working toward,” Giuliana said. Not only was it the fiftieth anniversary of the sparkling blanc de blancs that they bottled exclusively for weddings, but it also signaled the end of the year they’d agreed to give Tanti Baci to get back on its financial feet.

  Allie bit her lip. “You know reservations have been a little slow coming in . . .”

  Despite the fact they’d been busting their behinds to get the word out that the winery was hosting a series of events to celebrate their wedding wine and the couples who’d toasted each other with it at their nuptials for the past fifty years. An on-site justice of the peace would even be on hand for those happy couples who would like to renew their vows. “You’ve done the best you can, Allie,” she assured her younger sister.

  “Yes, yes, but you won’t believe what I’ve found out. What we can really use to create excitement. The legend—”

  Giuliana groaned, her hand lifting to cover her eyes. “Not the legend. I’m begging you. Please don’t talk about the legend.”

  “What legend?” It was a new voice. Grace’s.

  Giuliana dropped her hand to inspect her fellow refugee. The night before, their taxi had dropped the other woman at the small bungalow of Kohl’s sister, Mari. “You didn’t have to come in today.”

  Grace shrugged, looking fresh and wide awake in a pair of of jeans and a simple button-down shirt embroidered with the Tanti Baci logo—a delicate ivy garland with heart-shaped leaves. “Mari lent me some things. So why not work?”

  Allie beamed at her. “And as a member of the tasting room staff, you should learn all the Tanti Baci legends.”

  “If you’re going to tell bedtime stories, I’m going back to sleep,” Giuliana declared. Suiting action to words, she snuggled into her blanket and closed her eyes. She could use the twenty, forty, or sixty winks that it would take for her sister to impart the family’s tall tales. But she couldn’t tune out her sister’s voice.

  “There are actually three,” Allie was saying. “I’m sure you know a little of the winery history. Alonzo Baci—my great-great-grandfather—along with the great-great-grandfather of the Bennett brothers, the original Liam Bennett, were partners in a silver mine north of here. When the ore ran out, they bought this property and decided to grow grapes. They also both courted the same girl—”

  “Anne,” interjected Grace. “I know that much. And that Alonzo won her. Their original cottage is the one you renovated last year in order to use it as a wedding venue.”

  “Exactly,” Allie said, sounding pleased with her pupil. “That romance caused a big feud between the Bennetts and Bacis that has waxed and waned over the years, because our business dealings are still tangled. To this day, the Bennetts hold some interest in Tanti Baci.”

  “In the winery,” Giuliana felt compelled to point out, though her eyes were still closed. “Not the land.”

  Allie let the comment pass. “Anyhow, legend number one is that there was some sort of valuable silver or silver and gold treasure that’s been lost since those early days.”

  “We found a diary hidden in the rockwork surrounding the fireplace in the cottage,” Giuliana put in again. “If there’s a clue about this supposed treasure in the pages, we haven’t found it.”

  Allie sighed. “Perhaps we’re looking for the wrong kind of clue.”

  “So what’s the second legend?” Grace asked. The eager note in her voice made Giuliana grimace. She was surrounded by romantic fools.

  “Our papa told us that if you take your true love into the wedding cottage,” Allie said, “you’ll see the ghosts of those great lovers, Anne and Alonzo.”

  Under the blanket, Giuliana crossed her arms over her chest. “So I’m sure you and Penn have given them a great big howdy, is that right, Allie?”

  With her eyes closed, she could still hear her little sister’s delicate sniff. “Maybe.”

  Point scored. Giuliana wiggled deeper into the cushions and let drowsiness envelop her. “Onto load of baloney number three,” she murmured.

  Her sister sniffed again. “Jules may scoff, Grace, but maybe she shouldn’t. You know that we’ve been retailing our blanc de blancs sparkling wine, to be served exclusively at weddings, for fifty years this month.”

  “On the website it says you keep a record of the name of each and every bridal couple who have toasted with it.”

  “Exactly,” Allie confirmed. “And you know what else the website says . . .”

  The women finished the thought together. “Not one of those couples has ever divorced!”

  A cute marketing ploy, Giuliana admitted to herself, feeling sleep beginning to overtake her again. She supposed some slick ad man from San Francisco had been paid well for the idea in the days when the winery had money for such things.

  “I haven’t played that up enough,” Allie admitted. “When I’ve been publicizing the Vow-Over Weekend and drumming up interest from the papers and other local press, I haven’t been spotlighting that—and it’s a winner angle if you ask me.”

  Grace’s voice sounded as if it came from far away. “I love that story.”

  Yeah, but it was a story, Giuliana thought. And when she woke up next, she’d have to make clear to her little sister that it was a lousy idea to push something so blatantly false. It didn’t pack any punch when it could be proved so patently untrue.

  “Thank God for the Internet . . . not to mention the meticulous records of some of my predecessors in the winery’s PR office.”

  Giuliana drew her hand under her cheek and hoped she wouldn’t drool. She was so tired. Surely Allie would abandon this silly idea without her big sister’s input.

  “I’ve been checking . . . and my husband Penn has been checking, and Stevie and Jack got in on the hunt, too.” Something about the thrill in Allie’s voice roused Giuliana just as she slipped into sleep.

  Her eyelashes fluttered. “What? What are you talking about?”

  “I think it’s not just a legend. I think no couple that ever toasted each other with Tanti Baci blanc de blancs has ever divorced.”

  Head muzzy, Giuliana struggled into a sitting position again. She worked her fingers through the tangles in her dark hair and tried straightening the thin cotton lapels of the summer robe she was still wearing over her nightshirt. “That can’t be true.”

  “It is true,” Allie insisted. “At the twenty-fifth anniversary, a lot of follow-up work was done. It hasn’t been that hard to check on those older marriages. The more recent ones have been even easier to track down.”

  “That can’t be right,” Giuliana declared again. “You can’t know all of them are still, um, happy unions.”

  Allie waved her hand. “I’m not playing marriage counselor here. But I’m telling you, according to the four of us—Stevie and me, Jack and Penn—we’ve confirmed that all the Tanti Baci marriages are still legal and binding.”

  Voices outside the
office door had her little sister on her feet. She cast a look at Giuliana’s likely dumbfounded expression and said, “You need confirmation?”

  In seconds, the room was crowded with both her sisters and their spouses. Giuliana’s gaze roamed from face to face. “People. No divorces? This can’t be . . .”

  But they were already nodding.

  Giuliana swallowed. “You can’t know.”

  Allie frowned. “We know, okay?” She glanced around to give her husband a little smile. “And all romance shmomance aside, it is a great publicity angle.”

  Maybe she was still asleep, Giuliana thought. That had to be it. She was dreaming all this. The crowd in the room shifted as another body made his way into her office. Liam. It didn’t startle her to see him—he’d been disturbing her sleep for years—nor was she amazed that even while slumbering she’d go dry-mouthed at the sight of him.

  “What’s a great publicity angle?” her dream man asked her youngest sister.

  “You know our books? The ones that list all the Tanti Baci brides and grooms? We’ve gone through them line by line. None of those marriages ever ended in divorce.” Allie sent him a winning smile. “Isn’t that fab?”

  You’d have to be a keen observer of the man to notice the slight stiffening of his always-cool expression. “You can’t know that.”

  Allie looked disgruntled. “You and Jules. What’s going on with you two?”

  Giuliana stifled her hysterical urge to laugh. Her gaze met Liam’s, and though she thought she should shift it away, it stayed on him as she tried to explain. “We’re just, um, uh, surprised, I guess. I mean . . . you’ve been through all those record books?”

  “Almost. We’re missing one—which is why I was in the closet. But as soon as I find it, I’m going to expose the truth to the world!”

  Expose the truth to the world. Giuliana’s stomach plunged. She was wide awake now. As a matter of fact, she wondered if she’d ever sleep again.

  2

  The first item on Liam Bennett’s day’s agenda was one simple, easy-to-dispatch task. With it in mind, he strode between his home and the Tanti Baci winery, along a shortcut that had been worn years before by foot and bike traffic. His parents hadn’t been aware of it—though he’d been aware they would disapprove if they’d known. Calvin and Jeanette Bennett had kept themselves aloof from the working-class family next door. An act fueled by snobbery, he’d always supposed, as well as the decades-long feud between the Bacis and the Bennetts that had never died off.

  Once, he’d thought he and Giuliana would be the ones to eradicate all that remained of the old fight.

  Now he just hoped that imparting this piece of news to her—that the damn book was still safely hidden—would eradicate the uneasiness that had been tickling the back of his neck and churning his gut since he’d heard about the apartment fire the night before last.

  The soles of his work boots encountered the gravel drive that serviced the Baci farmhouse, the winery’s caves, its administrative offices, and the wedding cottage. He picked up his speed. It was early enough to hope he’d find his nemesis alone, so he could simply take forty seconds to tell her what he must, then get back to his own ordered world.

  A voice sounded from behind him. “Hey!”

  He couldn’t ignore the hail from his half brother, Penn. Holding back his grimace, he checked his pace and let the other man catch up with him. “Hey.”

  “Nice to see you,” Penn said, in obvious good spirits.

  “Yeah,” Liam replied, sliding a look at the man who was so much like him in appearance. They both were tall and rangy, with the same straight dark blond hair and blue eyes. They were just a few months apart in age—the SOB who’d fathered them both had been busy thirty-plus years before—and though they’d known each other for over a year, their similarity could still disconcert Liam. It was weird—like looking in a mirror and seeing a happy reflection.

  As if to prove that point, Penn grinned at him. “Great day in the neighborhood, huh?”

  It made Liam sigh. “Do you always have to be so annoyingly cheerful, Mr. Rogers?” he asked without rancor.

  “Oh, come on.” Penn gestured to the bucolic scene surrounding them. “The wine country’s a place made for good moods. When I first saw it, I thought I’d been levitated to a little slice of heaven.”

  Brilliant blue sky, rolling hills covered with healthy green vines, the rugged mountains in the distance. Liam could appreciate the comparison with heaven if there weren’t so many human dilemmas operating on the very same plane. And if he didn’t feel so hellishly tense because of them.

  Penn gave him another wide smile, the one that had all the female viewers of his top-rated home-remodeling TV show, Penn Bennett’s Build Me Up, swooning. “You know, being your and Seth’s half brother is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Liam shook his head. Only this charming near-twin of his would claim finding out he was the illegitimate offspring of a wealthy businessman who hadn’t acknowledged paternity until after his death was something to crow about. He figured he knew the real source of the other man’s sunny morning disposition. “It’s rude to rub in the fact that you got laid before your first cup of coffee.”

  Penn laughed. “Have you seen my beautiful wife? You should be glad I’m not pounding my chest like Tarzan.”

  “I’m going to pound your head,” Liam said. “Really, Penn, we’ll kick both you and Jack out of Man Club if you don’t tone down these I-love-marriage moods of yours.”

  “Jack is way more obnoxious than me.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “It’s the language thing. He croons to Stevie in French. Even my Alessandra goes a little woozy when he says something to her in Italian.”

  Italian. In an instant Liam was in Tuscany again, during that last, fateful summer. Wrapped in tangled sheets with Giuliana. He’d been fascinated by the naked curve of her shoulder as she frowned over the phrasebook and complained that her parents hadn’t taught her the language they had learned at their own parents’ knees.

  “You know the most important word,” he’d murmured to her, taking the phrasebook from her hands. “Baciami, Giuliana. Baciami.” Kiss me.

  She had. They had kissed so many, many times, enough to become intoxicated on them, on wine, on sunshine.

  Drunk on love.

  He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. The hangover had lasted for the next ten years.

  “Let’s pick up the pace,” he said, his voice short, his strides lengthening. “I’ve got things to do.”

  But he should have known it wouldn’t be as uncomplicated as finding Giuliana alone and passing on his assurances. Instead of being holed up in her office, they were told she was somewhere on the vineyard property. He ignored the little spurt of anger he felt at seeing the blanket folded neatly on the love seat perpendicular to her desk. “Damn woman didn’t sleep at the farmhouse last night, either?” he asked, glancing at Penn.

  The other man shrugged. “We tried to convince her. She muttered something about lusty honeymooners.”

  Liam was angry at himself now, but he worked to calm his expression and smooth his jerky strides as he set off in search of her. Penn trailed behind, apparently on his own hunt for his bride. “I always start at the cottage,” he offered helpfully.

  Why it made him even more annoyed that his half brother was right only confirmed that Liam wasn’t his usual composed self. They found Allie and her oldest sister outside the cottage that Alonzo Baci had built for his wife, Anne. The summer before, what had been a ramshackle adobe had been completely renovated. Now it stood like a place enchanted under the outstretched arms of a mature oak. The surrounding lawn was bisected by a path that led up shallow steps to carved double doors.

  The sisters weren’t inside, though. They both stood at one corner of the building, half obscured by a rosebush covered with white buds. Allie gripped a shovel. Giuliana was half bent, examining something along the lower wa
ll.

  “Ah, the beautiful Baci sisters,” Penn called out. “And to think you used to terrify me.”

  Giuliana straightened, and when her gaze touched on Liam, she went taut as a bow. Penn hissed in a breath and lowered his voice. “Okay. That one still terrifies me.”

  Apparently they overheard his remark, though, because the women cast each other long-suffering looks. “As if anything in skirts is immune to your magic,” Allie said.

  Penn perked up. “I like the sound of that. How about a midmorning break in our bedroom to discuss—”

  “We have less than four weeks until the Vow-Over Weekend,” Allie reminded him. “No time for midmorning breaks.”

  Under the cover of their conjugal flirtation, Liam moved forward to get within personal conversation distance with Giuliana. At five-foot-three, she had a curvy, compact little body that was completely obscured by a T-shirt that almost reached her knees. He noted she was wearing a pair of jeans that were too short. Clearly she was dressed in her sisters’ clothes, but she wasn’t sleeping at their house. “Why the hell are you spending the night in your office?”

  She tucked one wing of her shiny hair behind her ear. The dark stuff curved nearly to her shoulders, and with her chocolate brown eyes and golden skin, it completed the perfect trifecta of Mediterranean beauty. “Hello to you, too.” Her voice was sweet, her smile acidic.

  Liam stared down at her, struggling against the sudden urge to shake her. How could she do this to him? He was a responsible, upright citizen. Respected. But even after all these years, just one glance at her plum-sweet mouth and her big eyes with their curly dark lashes made him ache to throw off all that comfortable respectability and throw her over his shoulder.

  He’d take her into the wine caves, lock the doors behind them, and make love to her until . . .

  That was the problem. He wasn’t convinced there was some future date when she wouldn’t stir this up inside of him. But damn it, he had to get her out of his head. A man like Liam Bennett wasn’t a willing victim to his emotions . . .