She straightened, her sharp shoulder blades poking his chest.
“No BS, Grace,” he said, guessing that would be her first response. He brushed his thumb over the soft arch of one brow. “Shall I talk about your eyes? They put the sky to shame.”
She was leaning slightly against him now and he tried ignoring how the warmth of her body made a fire inside of his.
“And this nose?” His fingertip followed its straight line. “Not much to talk about, truthfully, except that it leads to such a pouty, kissable mouth.”
Her breath exhaled on his hand as he pressed against the center of her lips. “Kohl—”
“Shh. This is about what I say, what I see.” He let his hand fall. Touching her was torture. “As for your creamy skin and its—”
“Creamy!”
“Milky, then. Milk with cinnamon sugar floating on top.” He leaned over to whisper in her ear, “You know what those freckles do? They make a man want to spend a lifetime trying to taste each and every one.”
A trill of nervous laughter broke from her then, and she stepped away. She wrapped her arms around herself, not looking at him.
Kohl lifted an eyebrow. “Do I have to go on about your body?”
Grace glanced at him, glanced away. “P-please don’t.”
That break in her voice told him he’d gone too far. Damn! Wary Grace Hatch didn’t need a man telling her how drool-worthy she was. “Hey,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”
She shook her head wildly. “No, no! I . . .” Her hand gesture told him nothing. “Like I said. Kohl Friday, you are a very nice man.”
Back to the teddy bear!
Like that, the anger came over him again. He wanted to hit something, no, hit someone. Grace’s ex, or her father, or maybe even himself, who couldn’t settle for being her soft and gentle comfort object.
“I am not a nice man,” he bit out.
“Kohl.”
“A nice man wouldn’t be thinking about you when I’m in bed at night. A nice man wouldn’t be thinking of you when I’m brushing my teeth. A nice man wouldn’t be thinking of you even when my cock aches so damn bad that I want to break it off and beat myself with it . . . so I have to beat off instead.”
She was staring at him, that ordinary nose of hers flaring, but he didn’t regret sounding crude and rude. Hell, he was crude and rude.
“I’ve been thinking of you, Grace. I’ve been thinking of those freckles and wondering where they stop. Do you have them on your breasts? On the tops of your thighs? Are they sprinkled on the backs of your knees?”
She was still just staring at him.
“Tell me to stop, Grace. Tell me to go away and stay very far away from you.”
“No.” Her chest moved in and out with quick breaths. “I don’t want you to go away. To stay away.”
Shocked to the core of his dark heart, Kohl stared at her. What? There was a look on her face, it had been in her eyes before and he was certain he couldn’t interpret it. Because it couldn’t mean, she didn’t mean . . . She wanted him. That’s what his gut was telling him, but his head just couldn’t wrap around the thought. Wary Grace Hatch wasn’t looking at bad-ass Kohl Friday as if he was a gentle friend . . . but as a lover, a man she wanted.
And because he had no idea what to do about that, he did exactly what she didn’t want. He rushed away from her just as quickly as he’d rushed to her. And didn’t understand why he did that, either.
12
When Liam opened the door that evening to Giuliana’s sisters, he had to agree with Penn’s oft-spoken assessment: the Baci women were scary. Taking a step back before they plowed him over, he gestured them inside. “She’s taking a shower,” he said. “You might want to go easy on her. It’s been a long day.”
“We’ll wait for her in the living room,” Stevie said.
He pulled two bottles from the fridge, a sparkling water and a New Zealand sauvignon blanc. Along with the beverages, he brought some wineglasses and a bowl of nuts to the table that sat in front of the couch where the young women had taken a seat. When he caught a look at their expressions, he frowned and raised a brow.
“Why are you giving me the stink eye?”
“Stink eye.” A reluctant dimple dug itself into Allie’s cheek. “I haven’t heard that in a billion years.”
Liam had known the Baci sisters for a billion and one. His parents had discouraged contact with the Italian family—and now that he knew of his father’s feelings for their mother, he figured he finally understood why. Still, living in a small-town rural setting, they’d been childhood playmates. With his mother most often in a darkened room with a migraine headache and his father pursuing pretty young things far and wide, Liam and Seth had often found their amusement next door at Tanti Baci.
Stevie had made a damn good pirate. Alessandra could always be counted on to play the damsel in distress—her easy tears legend even then. Giuliana . . . Giuliana had been as good as he at organizing and planning, whether it was an elaborate game of cops and robbers, keep-away, or flashlight tag.
Which made him realize she wouldn’t appreciate being blindsided by her siblings like this.
He glanced toward the stairway. “Perhaps I should let her know you’re here.”
Stevie’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you should tell us what you’re after with her first.”
He tried giving her the I’m-older-and-I-know-best stare, but she only drummed her fingertips on the opposite arm she had crossed over her chest. Hell. All the Baci girls were harder to deal with now that they’d grown up.
“I’m waiting,” Stevie said.
“I’m thinking,” he countered. The fact was, Giuliana’s sisters had practically rolled her into his house by wheelbarrow. Once the truth was out about the marriage, they could have encouraged a quickie divorce, but instead they’d played the save-the-winery card. He knew that was important to them—but more important than their older sister’s welfare?
“Don’t drive her away again,” Allie said softly. “Please, Liam.”
That wasn’t what he was after! He’d forced her into his house and seduced her into his bed in order to drive her out of his head—not out of town. Somehow they needed to unfasten the tether they’d recklessly tied between them when they’d tied the knot in Reno. Maybe this stab at cohabitation wasn’t the best way to go about it, but he’d been desperate.
“Look. I—” But hell, he didn’t think it would make sense to them if he said it out loud.
“What’s going on?”
His head whipped toward the stairs. Giuliana was peering over the balustrade, a sleeveless, lacy white top cut low across her breasts. Her hair wasn’t styled in that sleek fall that he thought of as her LA look. It appeared shorter now, with the natural bouncy waves curling around her face. She might as well be seventeen again, and lust grabbed him around the throat with the same intensity that had driven him to marry her the minute she’d been old enough to sign the paper.
“Allie? Stevie?” As she walked into the living room, her bare feet and jeans only sharpened his memories of those young years. Giuliana, her mouth reddened by his kisses, her nipples the same dark blush as he’d unfastened her bra and then pulled denim free of her legs. She’d had a pair of panties—
“Liam?”
Her voice jerked him back to the present. “They just showed up,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do.”
Giuliana switched her attention back to her sisters and there was an edge of anxiety in her voice. “You’re okay? Everyone’s okay?”
“We don’t need a mother hen,” Stevie said, in her usual direct fashion. “We came here to make that clear to you, Jules.”
The oldest Baci slowly approached the high-backed chair across the table from her sisters. When she sank down on it, Liam moved forward to pour her a glass of wine and put it in her hand. She swallowed down a gulp. “What exactly has your hackles up, Steve?”
Allie scooted forward on her cushion
. “You should have called us right away when you discovered the vandalism.”
“It was early. You guys—”
“That’s exactly our point, Jules!” Stevie put in. “You decide it’s too early. You decide we shouldn’t see the full extent of the damage. You try to direct everything and everyone and it’s got to stop.”
Allie was nodding. “We’re partners. We’re in this together.”
“And you’re wearing yourself to nothing by holding on to all the worries and responsibilities. Yeah, Allie and I work hard, too, but you won’t share where your head is, and it’s not in a good place, Giuliana. We can all see that.”
Whoa. These sisters were rough, Liam thought. They wanted to haul out all the evidence and then examine it in public. He preferred the way he and Seth handled their differences—in silence, until whoever was angry had their ire bundled into a tidy package that could be stuffed into a remote closet.
Giuliana took another quaff of her wine. “I look so bad?”
“Don’t take it like that.” Stevie rolled her eyes. “You look beautiful, you always do, but to be honest, you could probably do with a month’s worth of meals and maybe a funny movie or two.”
“Some time off,” Allie added.
“When we’re done with the Vow-Over Weekend,” Giuliana said quickly. “There’ll be freedom then. For all of us.”
Liam cocked his head. There’ll be freedom?
“We don’t want freedom, Jules.” Allie set down her wineglass. “You’re not getting what we’re talking about. When something happens like that vandalism today—or when a decision needs to be made—like who to call about the curtains and the cushions—we need to be consulted. Together we can divvy up the tasks instead of you taking them all on yourself.”
Anger sparked in Giuliana’s eyes. “Sort of like how you consulted me about leaking the no-divorces story?”
Allie flushed. “I’m the PR person. Getting us press attention is actually part of my job.”
“But according to you, you should have consult—”
“You’re being deliberately obtuse,” Stevie said. “We’re worried about you.”
“And I’m worried about the two of you, but that makes me interfering and overbearing and—”
“Ah!” Stevie leapt to her feet and pulled on the ends of her hair. “You’re not listening!”
Liam froze, not sure whether he should interfere or not. He suddenly remembered the flameouts the two oldest Bacis had engaged in when young. He would have let them at it again, but there was something—something almost frantic—in the expression on Giuliana’s face. It drew him close enough so that he could sit on the arm of her chair. He laid a hand on her tense shoulder.
Allie tugged on her pregnant sister’s arm until the other woman sat down again. “Jules, we’re just saying that Tanti Baci belongs to all of us.”
“Not the land.” Giuliana’s body vibrated beneath Liam’s hand. “Don’t forget that the land is mine.”
Oh, God. Not a good time to bring that up, he thought, noting Stevie’s answering glower. Though it was true, that in usual Baci style, the inheritance matters were snarled. He wasn’t sure he had all the details straight—or if anyone did—but the vineyard acres were in Giuliana’s name alone, while other parts of the holdings were split between the sisters . . . with the Bennetts thrown into the mix as well.
“The land is mine,” Giuliana repeated, her voice softer now.
Stevie was back on her feet, clearly frustrated. “I can’t talk to you right now.” She headed for the foyer, Allie trailing behind. Manners made Liam follow, and he saw them out the door and then sighed. Maybe Penn or Jack could be interested in heading out for a beer about now.
No. The doting newlyweds would likely be busy soothing their spouses after the altercation with their sister. With another sigh, he headed back to the living room and was relieved to see that Giuliana wasn’t in sight. He liked licking his wounds alone as well. But then his gaze caught on her figure. She’d retreated to the adjoining terrace and was standing there looking out over the Bennett vineyards in the direction of Tanti Baci. He sighed again, supposing he couldn’t leave her looking so sad like that.
With the bottle and his own glass in hand, he joined her. Silent, he topped off her wine, then set the remainder on a nearby ledge. He sniffed, swirled, took a sip that he pulled through his teeth. “A bright little upstart, perhaps lacking in character, even shallow can we say, but the flinty finish gives it more finesse,” he said, impersonating one of the snobby—and often nonsensical—wine critics that they used to laugh about when they were young. “Has a grassy nose, with maybe just a hint of petunias and new pennies.”
She didn’t even smile. She didn’t even seem to notice his performance at all. “Did I screw up? Today, in terms of my sisters, did I screw up?”
His gaze ran over her bouncing hair and tense body. “It depends on who you ask. I get that it’s not easy to go to them—you’re used to being the one they go to.”
Her gaze flicked down to her glass. “Allie, anyway, though she held a lot inside after Tommy died. Stevie’s always been more independent.”
“And you’ve never been completely honest with them, have you?”
She slid him a look that said, Uh, secret marriage?
And of course there was yet another secret. Hell, he thought. He didn’t blame her for keeping some things private. “You want to protect them. I get that, Jules.”
“You’re close to your brother, Seth. Now Penn, too. Are there things you’ve kept from them that they might believe they deserve to know?”
He hesitated, then found himself telling the truth. “Big things.”
Her eyes went wide and she stared at him. “Liam?”
He stayed silent.
“Liam?” she asked again. “Big things like . . . what?” There was doubt in her eyes. “Your dad fathering illegitimate children has been out since the will was read.”
Shame made him shift his gaze from her face. “I . . . uh . . .” He was regretting like hell he’d even said anything. But it had popped out and he didn’t know how to stuff those “big things” back.
He cleared his throat. “I knew about my father’s affairs long before he died. I kept them a secret. He used me as an excuse—‘Liam needs some sessions at the batting cages’—and his alibi—‘Liam and I are going to the movies’—on many occasions.”
He heard her quick indrawn breath. “Oh.”
“The first time, I was ten.”
“Oh.” She sounded strangled.
“He insisted I not tell my mother. And how could I? It would have humiliated her and broken up the family—he told me that, too. I don’t know how many times I lied for him, all to keep Mom from finding out and Seth from learning the ugly truth. Which they eventually both did, of course, but I never want any of them, including Penn, to know . . .”
“That your father blackmailed a little boy. His own little boy.”
He’d blackmailed his grown-up son, too, but Liam couldn’t confess that without getting into darker territory he didn’t want to travel to tonight . . . or ever.
Then she had her hand on his arm. “Come over here.” With the wine bottle in the crook of her elbow, she pulled him toward a wide chaise lounge that was similar to the one they’d made love on the day before. But she didn’t look like she had sex on her mind, even though she stretched out on the cushions and patted the space beside her.
He settled in, unable to resist the invitation.
She was quiet a minute, then she took a sip from her glass. “A surprisingly long wine. I agree on the copper undertones but can’t get behind the petunias at all. Maybe a little . . . pea gravel?”
His smile felt good. He knew he didn’t do it all that often these days. But for the first time since she’d returned from Southern California, he felt that he and Giuliana had found a small measure of peace between them. They understood each other on this level, because they both felt fierce
protectiveness and deep responsibility.
He slid his arm beneath her head and she leaned against him, a little sigh traveling through her body. No matter what happened in the future, no amount of drama, no bout of fiery sex could affect this very real connection they had. They shared a past as well as a loyalty to their families and to their land in the Napa Valley.
An errant snippet of conversation whispered again through Liam’s head: When we’re done with the Vow-Over Weekend, there’ll be freedom. But he packed the worry away with all the other baggage he had in that subterranean storage area at the back of his mind.
As he’d said, it had been a long day and they both deserved a little peace.
A few days following the vandalism at the cottage, Giuliana, Allie, and Stevie were ensconced in cushioned chairs beside the pool at the Bennett house. Beyond the pool deck, Liam, Penn, and Jack were playing some sort of game on the half basketball court situated there. Shirtless, and in bright board shorts, the men were showing off both their muscles and their athletic prowess.
Her gaze on the sweaty torsos and roped arms, Stevie sighed. “I know what you’re doing, Jules. You think you can get around my mad by giving me eye candy. Dessert even before the pizza you promised.”
Though she hadn’t arranged for the display of masculine beauty, getting back in her sisters’ good graces was Giuliana’s plan. They needed to be in sync these last weeks leading up to the Vow-Over Weekend. What happened after . . . She didn’t know what would happen to her relationship with her sisters after, but while she was here in Edenville, she couldn’t take them being angry with her. To that end, she’d laid out the bait of pizza while they worked at Tanti Baci that afternoon. Liam had made a call to Penn and Jack, and she was given the chance she needed.
Stevie lifted one sandal-shod foot. “If I was wearing better shoes, though, I’d be out there myself, showing them I haven’t lost my jump shot.”
“You can’t,” Giuliana instantly said, alarm tightening her belly. “You should be taking it easy. You should be—”
Can't Hurry Love Page 16
