She put an arm around his shoulder and urged him to put his head on her lap. He resisted, but she gave him a smile that sent his resolve floating off in the warm breeze.
“What? You think I’m too old to keep up? I need a nap?”
“Yes.”
“Hey.” He started to lift his head.
Laughing, she splayed her fingers through his hair and gave it a small tug, forcing him to rest his head on her thighs. He complied, but she left her fingers in his hair and gently massaged his scalp.
He briefly closed his eyes at the soothing sensation.
“This is not a good idea,” he finally said, yet made no move to get up.
“Why not?”
He opened his eyes. She looked down at him in innocent confusion, her fingers continuing to work their magic. “You don’t know?”
She blinked. “Papa used to like when I rubbed his scalp. He said it relaxed him.”
Mike snorted. Obviously her mind wasn’t in the gutter with his. God, he was a dope.
Her fingers stilled. “But I never got a funny feeling in my stomach with Papa.”
Mike sat up.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked, her eyes filled with genuine concern.
He shook his head as he got to his feet. Was she really this naive? “We’d better start back. In another hour it’s going to be tough to get a cab.”
She held out her hand and he pulled her to her feet. Without warning, she kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for the nice day.”
“Don’t mention it.” He quickly backed away.
“Scusi.” She made a sound of impatience. “Excuse me, I do not understand. I did something wrong?”
He smiled. “It’s a term that means what I did was nothing. Don’t give it another thought.”
“Oh, but that is not true.” She slid her arms around his waist and looked up into his eyes. “You have given me the perfect day.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad you liked it.” He tried to disengage her arms. “I don’t think you should be doing that.”
She held on tightly. “Why? Because you make my stomach, um, what is the word? Jump? Flutter?”
“Gina.” He drawled her name into a warning she ignored.
“Mike?”
“Yes?” He took a step back. She moved along with him.
“Can I ask for one more thing?”
“What?” he asked slowly, his gaze hopelessly tangled with hers.
“Will you kiss me?”
His gaze stayed locked with hers another moment, until he realized he was actually thinking about giving in. “Holy shit! Gina, don’t even think about stuff like that.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Because.”
“You have a girlfriend?” She slackened her hold.
“No.”
“Good.” She tilted her head back farther and closed her eyes. “You can kiss me now.”
The sun shining on her lips made them glisten. He swallowed. “No kissing.”
She opened her eyes again, hurt gathering like storm clouds. “You do not like me. You think I am too much trouble.”
“Of course not.”
She dropped her arms and moved back. “That is all right. I understand.”
“No, you don’t.” He hated the hurt look on her face. What had she been told by her parents? Or maybe it was the nuns who’d undermined her confidence. “It’s just that it’s too public here.”
She stared at him, her eyes growing wide, and then her lips curved in an expectant smile. “You must be planning some kiss.”
Mike groaned. She’d probably been asking for a peck. Now she’d expect much more. Gee, no pressure here.
“ROBERT, WAIT UP.” Mike shot up from his desk to catch him before he disappeared for the day.
“Coffee. I need coffee right away.” Robert turned and headed for the office’s small kitchen.
Mike followed, but stopped at Augie’s office when he noticed the door was open. “I didn’t know you were in already. We could have had a coffee together.”
Augie shrugged and stared down at the newspaper spread across his desk. “I had a lot of stuff to catch up on.”
Mike frowned. Yeah, Augie looked as if he were really busy. What the hell was going on? Augie always had time for coffee with him, even if only to find out what was happening with sales so he could try to stay on top of things.
“No problem,” Mike said. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Augie looked up briefly and went back to his paper. Mike continued to the kitchen, his concern growing, but waited until his friend poured a cup of the strong black brew. It was pretty early. For Robert, anyway. “Your office or mine?” Robert asked after he’d taken a sip.
“Mine. My coffee is sitting on my desk.” Mike led the way back down the hall. At least Robert didn’t seem to be avoiding him. Although he still hadn’t volunteered anything about his trip to Jersey either.
“What’s up?” Robert sprawled in the chair opposite Mike, cradling his mug in his hands.
“I was hoping you’d tell me.”
Robert’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”
“What’s with this trip to Jersey?”
Robert made a dismissive sound. “Nothing. You know Pop. The warehouse lease is up for renewal and he thinks the rent is going up and he’s panicking.”
Mike frowned. Not good. A move would mean a delay in opening the West Coast distribution center. “It probably will be raised.”
“I don’t think so. Pop’s been doing business with the Einsteins for over twenty years. He pays promptly.” Robert took a slow sip and then studied Mike over the rim of his mug. “You didn’t think I was doing anything behind your back, did you?”
“No, but I don’t understand why you didn’t mention going to Jersey.”
“Pop asked me to go at the last minute.” He shrugged. “Probably trying to keep me busy so I don’t seem totally useless.”
“Knock it off, Robert. Nobody thinks that.”
“Right. I need more coffee.”
“You got another minute first?”
“Don’t worry, Mike.” He rose to his feet. “The West Coast distributorship will be yours. Unless Pop doesn’t think I can handle things at this end.”
Guilt nudged Mike. The thought had crossed his mind. Not because Robert wasn’t capable. He simply didn’t seem interested. “Since when do you give a rat’s ass what your dad thinks?”
“I don’t,” Robert said without conviction, “but I overheard him talking to my cousin.”
“Which one?” Three of them worked at the warehouse.
“Gina.”
“About you?” he asked when Robert didn’t expand.
“Forget it. What did you want to talk about?”
Mike didn’t want to forget it. He knew Robert, and something was really eating at him. Maybe he regarded Gina as a threat. Maybe she wanted… No! Did she want to work at the New York office? Even if she did, she’d hardly be qualified to do anything more than entry level work while she learned the ropes.
Oh, man, he couldn’t talk to Robert about Gina now. If things got political or messy, Mike didn’t want to end up in the middle.
“I bet it’s about Gina,” Robert finally said after a lull.
“What about her?”
“That’s what you wanted to talk to me about, right?” Robert grinned. “What? She’s boring you to death already?”
“Not exactly,” Mike murmured. It felt wrong discussing her with anyone. And not just because of the possible business aspect. It was more about her, about not betraying their relationship. Crazy thinking since they’d only known each other for two days, but there it was.
Robert frowned and studied him closely. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking about how much work I have to do.”
“Ah.” Robert nodded thoughtfully. “And Gina’s taking up all your time.”
Mike shrugged, suddenly worried that Robert m
ight want to step in and take Gina off his hands. He blinked. But that’s what he wanted, right? “She’s good about giving me time to get caught up. We’re working it out.”
Robert rubbed the back of his neck, his brow furrowed. “Look, I know you guys are supposed to go to Coney Island today. I could take her.”
It was obvious that was the last thing Robert wanted to do, so Mike knew he wouldn’t get an argument when he declined the offer. “You leave for vacation tomorrow. Go home and pack and get your last-minute stuff done.”
“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t ask.”
Mike snorted.
Robert gave him a sheepish grin. “When I get back I promise I’ll take over.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Mike got up for more coffee. He had at least another hour to sort his mail, dictate a couple of letters, and then brace himself for another day of hurricane Gina before he had to go get her. “I have everything under control.”
“I hope so.” Robert nudged his chin in the direction of the office lobby. “Look who Pop brought with him.”
5
GINA SAT AT MIKE’S computer in the corner of his office while he studied a piece of paper at his desk.
She tried to stay focused on the computer screen, but her gaze kept wandering over to him. He looked particularly handsome this morning with his light-brown hair a little messy and his chin stubbly.
She wondered if today they would kiss, how his beard-roughened jaw would feel on her skin.
She realized she had sighed out loud when he looked up and met her eyes. Quickly she forced her attention back to the computer.
“I won’t be much longer,” he said. “About another fifteen minutes.”
“Do not hurry. I am fine.” She was in a great mood. Nothing could ruin her day. Zio Antonio had not said anything about her new jeans.
She found the Sex and the City Web site she was searching for and helped herself to a tablet of paper and pen lying nearby. She had misplaced the list of nightclubs she had printed off her computer at home. The clubs the four women on the show went to. Mike would probably not want to go to most of them. He would worry about upsetting Zio Antonio, but she would persuade him.
It took more than ten minutes to copy everything she wanted. Although she had learned to speak English at a very young age, she had never read or written the language much, except during high-school English classes. She reviewed the list and realized she had written it half in Italian.
“Just a few more minutes—”
The phone rang and Mike groaned. He snatched it up and gave his last name, instead of a greeting.
She thought about leaving the room, but it was obviously a business call and not a personal one. Besides, she loved listening to him talk about work. He sounded very confident and smart. She liked the way he looked, too, his face so serious and focused as he described the latest merlot they had bottled.
He hung up and gave her an apologetic smile. “Are you ready for the beach?”
She nodded. “But if you still have work to do, I do not mind waiting.”
“I could work until midnight and never get caught up. Let’s go.”
“Maybe I could help you.”
He laughed. “That’s okay. It’ll all still be here when I get back.”
His attitude wounded her. “I know many things about the business.”
He gave her an odd look. “Probably more than me. What made you say that?”
“You are overworked, yet you do not want my help.”
“It’s not that. You’re on vacation. This is probably your last fling before you start work.”
“Me start work?”
“When you get back to Italy.”
She frowned. It was an odd thing for him to say.
“I assume you’ll be working at the home office in Tuscany.” He shrugged, but his eyes were watchful. “Maybe you plan on working at the Paris or Rome office.”
She stared back at him, wondering if he was trying to make a joke. If so, she did not understand. Women in her family did not work in the business. They married and made babies. Just as they all expected her to do.
The phone rang again, and Mike muttered a word she had not heard before. He started to reach for the receiver and then stopped. “I’ll let it go to voice mail.”
“But it may be business.” Guilt cut into her. He was neglecting his work for her. “It might be important.”
He laughed. “Are you sure you’re related to Robert?”
“Scusi?”
“Never mind. It was a bad joke.” He grabbed the phone but was only on for seconds.
“Is something wrong?” Gina asked when he hung up and grunted with impatience.
“One of our distributors is here to see me.” He threw up his hands. “Just a few more minutes, okay?”
“No sweat.” She had heard him use the phrase a couple of times.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Be careful what you repeat. Do you want to wait in your uncle’s office or maybe in the kitchen area?”
“Oh.” She wanted to listen to him talk some more, but she stood, realizing it would not be proper for her to be present during a business meeting. “I have not spent time with Zio Augie yet. I will find him.”
“I’m sorry about this, Gina.”
“This is business, Mike.” She stopped at his door and gave him a reassuring smile. “I understand.”
“I’d make the guy wait since he doesn’t have an appointment, but he’s thinking about giving up the truck space of our wine for more Mondavi stock.”
She gasped, appalled at the idea. “Our grapes are far superior. Why would—”
Mike cleared his throat and focused on the doorway behind her. “George, good to see you.”
Gina turned around to find a man approaching. Shorter than Mike and maybe a little older, he had a dark bushy mustache and small black eyes.
“Glad I caught you, Mason.” He eyed Gina with curiosity as he shook Mike’s hand. “You going on vacation?”
Mike glanced down at his jeans and red polo shirt. “Nah, I’m headed out for the day. I have an out-of-town guest.” He gestured to Gina. “This is Gina Ferraro, Antonio’s niece. This is George Zacharias.”
The man took Gina’s hand, and the firm shake she gave put surprise in his eyes. “I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Zacharias.”
“It’s George, please. So, you’re from Italy?”
“Si. Tuscany, where we have the finest grapes in the country.”
George gave her an amused, rather patronizing look that made her want to scratch something. “Yes, you make some fine wine.”
“Our merlots cannot be surpassed.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Even for a grape that has been overplanted and overproduced. We are very careful about our selections. Our merlots are very reliable grapes.”
Mike watched, fascinated, as Gina described their cabernet sauvignon, and how they had become so well respected that more of their wine was being sold en primeur, or as futures, when collectors or merchants agree on a price before it is bottled.
She was a natural at selling. Not just because she looked like a million bucks in her new jeans and clingy T-shirt, but because her passion for wine was genuine. But that Gina looked like sin in jeans did nothing for George, who never hid the fact that he was gay. Still, Mike could tell he was impressed. Oh, man, did she know her stuff.
After holding George’s rapt attention for several minutes, a faint pink tinged her cheeks. “Forgive me. You came to see Mike. I did not mean to intrude.”
“No problem. What you said is very interesting.” George took a seat at Mike’s urging. “Actually I’d like to hear more sometime.” He glanced at Mike. “Assuming we’re still doing business after this meeting.”
“What’s going on, George?” With grim acceptance, Mike sat in his own chair. “What’s making you unhappy?”
Gina started to leave, but Mike waved her back inside. “Stay if you want,” he said. “This is your b
usiness, too.”
Surprise flickered in her eyes, and then a pleased smile lifted her lips and she reclaimed the chair in front of the computer.
George snorted. “Need reinforcements to help me change my mind?”
Mike hated being baited. “Tell me what the problem is and I’ll see if I can fix it.”
“Simple.” George shrugged and pursed his mouth in an annoying show of indifference. “Mondavi is willing to give me a larger percentage.”
“That’s hard to believe. You know damn well we pay top commission.”
“I’m telling you straight.” George smiled. “Maybe Mondavi wants my business more than you do.”
Mike drummed his fingers on the desk. The guy had to be bluffing. “Well, like I said, we’re already paying top dollar. I don’t know that there’s anything more I can do.”
“Okay, but you understand…” George shrugged again and started to get to his feet. “I like you, Mike. I’ve enjoyed doing business with you. But that’s the point—this is business. I have to go for the highest profit.”
“Scusi, um, excuse me.”
Gina had been so quiet Mike had almost forgotten she was sitting in the corner. Both men looked at her.
Her lips were pursed, her brows drawn together. Confusion never looked so pretty. “May I ask a question?”
Mike figured no harm could be done at this point. It looked as if he was losing an account. “Go ahead.”
George sank back into his seat with a condescending nod toward Gina.
“You are an independent distributor, si? You work for yourself?”
George nodded patiently, but Mike narrowed his gaze. She was up to something. Her accent was more pronounced and she looked entirely too innocent—in spite of the shrewd gleam in her eyes Mike had not seen before.
“You sell and distribute the Scarpetti wine to retail stores, si?”
George glanced at Mike, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement, and then nodded at Gina.
“And you do not feel it is profitable enough to continue to sell our wine.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” George said. “It’s just more profitable dealing with Mondavi.”
A pleased smile lit her face. “I understand.”
Educating Gina Page 5
