The Summer of Us: A Romance Anthology

by AJ Matthews

  “B’s father,” Liah told her brightly. “He used to come in all the time, when I was at Cibo et il Vino. I’m pretty sure he has a stake in the place.”

  “Wait! You’re saying Bianca’s father is Anton Valdezzi, Therese Valdezzi’s. . father?” Cami asked faintly. “Bianca is Therese’s sister?”

  Aliah’s eyes widened, and realizing this was coming as a surprise, her words came softly. “No, Cam. Bianca’s father is Therese Valdezzi’s older brother, Anton, Jr. Anton Valdezzi senior is their father, Bianca’s grandfather. You didn’t know?”

  “Who B’s parents were? No.”

  “All this time, you haven’t known Bianca’s last name?” Aliah asked, a little incredulous. “You didn’t know. . Therese was her aunt?”

  “No!” Cami answered, not in the mood to elaborate.

  “But. . you sign her paycheck. Doesn’t Anton write checks for her board?”

  Cami’s stomach pitched harder, and she burped cucumber and strawberries. “Payment for board and expenses comes from A&B, LLC. It’s a tax shelter. B gives me a credit card number to run the first of every month. I pay Bianca weekly, in cash. It’s her spending money. That’s what her dad asked for.”

  “So- You’ve never spoken to him?”

  “Anton? No. Well, yes, maybe. I mean, I’ve never spoken to him about Bianca, or about her horses,” Cami said impatiently, her stomach now twisted tightly in knots. “Of course I know who Anton Valdezzi, Jr. is, Liah. He owns the heating oil company, the newspaper, a string of radio stations, Sonoma magazine, any number of commercial real estate projects, restaurants and hotels across Napa and Sonoma, and he has a controlling interest in a ton of vineyards besides those bearing the family name, not just in California, but in Italy and France and Australia and Argentina, too. . .Oh, what have I missed?” she asked snidely. “I know he owns Sonoma County, I just had no idea he was Bianca’s father.”

  “But B’s last name is. . . ” Aliah said, gesturing loosely, her eyes wide.

  “Valdezzi, obviously. I just didn’t know.” Cami heard the sound of her own voice, weak and flat.

  “Well. Then.” Aliah swallowed. “I guess you do now.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Bringing your date into Sauvignon?” Aliah asked brightly, trying to change the subject.

  But not changing the subject at all.

  As she watched Liah’s face cloud, Cami could tell her best friend recognized this newest, double-gaffe.

  Rolling her eyes, Cami retorted, “Not on your life.”

  Sonoma Saturday 1

  “Not on your life.”

  Standing in the dusty tack room, Cami slipped her feet into the new, strappy blue sling backs Liah had selected while dialed Liah’s cell frantically.

  “Cam?” Liah answered.

  “Oh my god. It was a bad idea to call him first, Liah. A very bad idea.”

  “Wait-what? Oh, you just called him? Your date?”

  “He’s a grant funded momma’s boy, a California surfer slacker stoner dude. I hate him! I so detest his type.”

  “Cami, it’s just a glass of wine. You’ll manage.”

  “No, no, now it’s dinner, too.”

  “Oh. . Well, are you hungry?” Liah asked brightly.

  “Yes.”

  “So you eat. It can’t be that bad.”

  “Oh yes it can,” Cami retorted. “His face is wrinkly, like grapes that got too much sun, but it’s even worse when he opens his mouth. It’s obvious his grapes have been thoroughly stomped, Liah. The guy is a loser.”

  “Maybe so, but he’s the loser you have a date with in. . oh, fifteen minutes! Just put on the makeup and perfume I packed for you and go get you man, Cami!” Liah said brightly.

  Cami’s reply was barely audible.

  Which was good, because Liah hated obscenities.

  “Okay, is there anything else?” Liah asked. “I need to grab some wine from the cellar.”

  “Nope. Have fun at work tonight,” Cami told her.

  “You too! Just make the best of it. Look at it this way, at least you won’t have a hose in your hand all night.”

  “True. No chance I’ll get anywhere near this guy’s hose. B will be so disappointed.”

  “Cami!” Liah exclaimed.

  “Hah. Serves you both right. You thought this dating thing was going to be a good idea, too, Liah. How about I have B set you up on Spindr?”

  Ten minutes past seven, Cami zipped her rattle trap lime green VW along Second Street, seeking a parking spot well away from Sauvignon. Heels clicking, she strode along Napa to First, where she spotted a guy who she figured was Slacker Stoner Sid leaning against a red Porsche convertible.

  He wore nice clothing, she had to admit; his linen shirt, trousers and shoes all looked designer.

  Probably because his mother picked them out.

  “You Cami?” Sid asked slowly, as if stoned, moving in for a kiss.

  Cami sidestepped the kiss neatly; her refLiahes weren’t impaired, yet. Extending her hand, her voice took on false cheer. “Hi, Sid!”

  “Ready for glass of wine?”

  Cami noticed his bloodshot eyes.

  Seriously Stoned Slacker Sid.

  “Might as well. . .” Cami said, all bright and fake. . . Get this date over with!

  Sid rubbed big, knobby knuckled hands over his six pack, fishing for a return compliment. “You look even better than your pictures.”

  “You look. . .the same,” Cami lied. Sid was slender, but he had the beginnings of a beer gut, which had not been in the pictures.

  “Yup, all lean muscle!” Sid replied, slapping his slacker belly.

  “Right!” Cami answered, desperately thirsty for that glass of wine.

  Slacker Sid’s arm snaked around Cami’s waist as he guided her down First street, towards the corner of Sonoma, where the rough granite mansion that now housed Sauvignon stood.

  Cami motioned behind them, anxiously glancing over her shoulder. “Where- I thought you said we had a reservation at the The Fremont?”

  “Did I?” Sid asked, still steering her in the direction of Sauvignon.

  “We’re not. . . We can’t possibly be going to. . ?”

  “It’s new, the best place in town. I made us a reservation,” Slacker Sid said, his lips stretching into a self-satisfied smile.

  Cami was fully aware that Slacker Sid’s wealthy mother was likely buying dinner. “I can’t. . go there.”

  “Why not?” Sid asked slowly.

  Why not?

  Cami had promised Liah she’d stop by.

  What better time to do it than on a busy Saturday night, when Marcus would be fully occupied running the show? Her night was already ruined, and besides, Slacker Sid would be a distraction. And not hard to look at, if you went for burned out surfer guys resembling a down market version of Owen Wilson.

  There could be worse things for Cami than showing up at Sauvignon with a date.

  As long as this particular date didn’t open his mouth.

  Fishing for some excuse, Cami lied, “My mom asked me to wait and go with her, because it’s such a special spot.”

  “Just don’t tell her,” Sid said.

  “Right. Good idea.”

  “Have dinner at Sauvignon with me, Cami. I wanna try it out. It’s the hottest new spot. Besides, I told somebody I’d meet them here.”

  He was meeting someone. . else?

  Pinot Grigio is like lemonade; simple and refreshing.

  Tucked into a comfy leather chair in one of Sauvignon’s intimate, high ceilinged dining rooms, Cami sucked down her first glass of Pinot in record time. She’d selected one from Movia, at eighteen dollars a glass.

  As she’d breezed past Marcus in the hall, he’d given Cami a circumspect glance, followed by a raised eyebrow.

  It had been almost imperceptible, she thought.

  Still, that single look had accelerated her heartbeat to near panic, and it hadn’t escaped the notice of Slacker Sid, who
, for all of his slacker traits, was pretty observant.

  “You know that guy?” Sid asked.

  “That guy?” Cami sucked Pinot from her glass, playing dumb.

  “The guy that owns this place, Marcus. He’s from a famous old wine family in France, with something like six brothers. The Valdezzi’s imported him, to give their operation more class. He was strapped for cash, until he married to Therese Valdezzi. Kind of obvious he made out like a bandit on the divorce.”

  Pretending to study her menu, Cami barely saw the text through her own shame and humiliation. Trying for nonchalant, she feigned, “Oh, really? I didn’t know.”

  Could she hate Marcus, but like his restaurant?

  The wine helped, because as Cami gazed at the fabulously expensive art on the walls, possibly part of Marcus’ divorce settlement, she had to admit that the design team that Marcus had been working so intently with back in March, when she should have just left him alone, had done amazing work, helping him convert the giant, rough old granite mansion into the most exquisitely perfect Sonoma setting she could imagine. Sauvignon’s interior perfectedly blended traditional charm and historic elegance with sleekly current Italian and French influences, encapsulated all that she loved about wine country.

  Except for Marcus.

  There was no sign of Liah, which was just as well; Liah’s sommelier talents were currently bestowed elsewhere, thanks be. The courtyard garden and large rooms at the back of the restaurant had been booked for a Sonoma County society luminary’s birthday party, Cami had gleaned while they stood in the foyer, waiting to be seated. Liah was probably serving the party.

  Finally, the wine hit her bloodstream; Cami was able to breathe again.

  She’d gotten past Marcus, escaped Liah’s bright cheer and ridiculous hopes, and could now enjoy another glass of wine and eat dinner.

  She and Sid would be out of Sauvignon in record time; she was just fulfilling her obligation.

  Except that’s not how it went.

  Service to their table was noticeably slow; their appetizers took forever.

  Cami’s conversation with Sid was horrible and stilted. As she was forced to listen to yet another one of his surfer-burner stories, Cami finished her third glass of wine.

  Then, because of her voluminous wine intake, she needed to use the ladies room, something she hadn’t planned on. Still, she made it to the ladies without a Marcus sighting, which was a grand relief.

  Taking her good old time in the loo, she washed her hands and fixed her makeup, hoping dinner would arrive before her return. Teetering on strappy stilettos, listing a bit because she’d sucked down so much Pinot Grigio like the lemonade it wasn’t, Cami started back.

  The narrow, crowded hall was now packed with elegantly dressed partygoers, small, tight knit groups of high-society people who knew each other well, and didn’t know Cami at all. Forced to chant ‘excuse me’ again and again, she dipped and dodged, navigating among well-dressed socialites, who looked down their noses as her imposition interrupted their conversations; her light-headed wine buzz didn’t help.

  Midway back to the table, Cami realized she was exhausted.

  It wasn’t just Sid, or the date, or Sauvignon; she’d been exhausted all summer. Heavenly’s injury, skyrocketing vet bills, all those little kids at the barn, the stressful reality that she really might be losing her business. .but just that tiny glimpse of Marcus on the way to their table had been the icing on the cake.

  She wanted to give up.

  What am I doing here, fighting my way back to a table at the last restaurant I’d ever want to be in, returning to interminably horrific dinner with a completely tedious stranger?

  Cami eyed the heavy bronze hardware of the giant, heavy wooden door with longing. A powerful urge to flee gripped her, and she wanted to just keep elbowing her way through the partygoers crowding the foyer until she reached the front door and escape.

  In just a few minutes, she could be behind the wheel of her limey VW. Firing up the bug’s little engine, she could head for home, to fit in two extra hours of sleep before she had to be back at the barn to tend Heavenly.

  Cami could be in her fluffy, safe bed, sleeping, in less than fifteen minutes, and right now, that felt like heaven.

  Cutting out on Slacker Sid would be the epitome of rudeness.

  Which was okay, because it was Sid, after all. But her absence would likely be noted by Marcus, possibly resulting in awkward questions later, from Liah.

  Cami flinched.

  I’m here now, best just to get on with it.

  She finally reached the open doorway of their intimate dining space.

  But there was no Sid.

  A startlingly white, open-necked dress shirt revealed a tempting bit of neck. Tousled dark curls fell over a high forehead. She took in tanned cheeks, just-shaven smooth, splashed with cologne, a broad shouldered, blue linen dinner jacket, then a slow, wide smile, affectionate blue eyes, sparkling just for her. . .

  Marcus.

  Her skirt swooshed as she stopped stock still, stomach dipping; shocked, then shy. Cami was suddenly conscious of the snug fit of her silk halter dress, her bare, tanned shoulders, sexy, tippy toe sandles, cleavage plumped by the demi bra Liah had packed for her. . . Taking it all in, his eyes glimmering with appreciation and just a bit of wicked, Marcus waited. Waited for her.

  As usual, he looked like sin, good enough to eat.

  Cami had been desperately certain she did not want anything to do with Marcus.

  But now, seeing him where Sid had been, relief and gratitude washed through her, and like a moth pulled to a candle flame of bright heat, she moved toward the man she had once loved with all her being.

  Marcusnrose, easily and confidently, moving the back of her chair, pulling it out for her. “You look incandescent, Cami,” he said, not taking his eyes from her.

  Which was about right, because at that moment, Cami felt seared by a burning heat, inflamed higher and hotter, as her willpower began to implode.

  Sonoma Satur-night

  “a horrific time tempered by a slight wine buzz”

  Cami focused on Marcus’s broad, capable hands as they gripped the burnished leather of her chair. It was all she could manage; his face and expression were too beautiful. He kissed her cheek. Forcing a smile, she sat, conscious of his eyes roving the cleft of her halter dress, a high slice of thigh the slit of her dress revealed. As Marcus pushed her chair in, his voice came low, so damn masculine, so irresistable, her scalp prickled, thighs tensed at the rush of heat between them.

  “Having dinner, Cami?”

  Cami lifted her wine glass and took a long, slow draw of pinot, letting it’s fruity sweetness soothe and caress her throat all the way down. “I thought I was.”

  Next to her, in the chair Sid had vacated, Marcus sipped barrel-aged whiskey from an expensive, cut-glass tumbler, whiskey made by Marcus’ friends in a nearby small-batch distillery, Cami knew, and exported to France.

  She had no idea of where Sid had gotten to, but the fact that he was gone was a relief. Struggling to stay calm, to make sense of things, Cami said cooly,“My date will return shortly.”

  “Your date?” Marcus’ eyebrow lifted, and his bemused look was indulgent, making her feel like some kind of spoiled child. He gazed at her, started to speak, then stopped, sipping his whiskey, as if measuring what she should know.

  Increasingly nervous, Cami lifted her wine glass to her lips.

  Speaking calmly, his voice low, Marcus delivered the news. “I got a call ten minutes before we opened letting me know I could expect Sid, that he’d probably be arrested here, tonight. The FBI has been watching him for months, Cami. Sid’s been running drugs. It was a sting. Your date was just hauled out of the men’s room in handcuffs.”

  Cami flinched, choking on wine.

  She lifted her napkin to her face, coughing and sputtering. Teary-eyed from the choke, she took a long draught from her water glass, leaving fresh lipstick smears
on its rim. Then she swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Well, I guess that accounts for the crowd in the hallway.”

  “Yes,” Marcus replied, eyes sparkling at her deft recovery, unable to hide his grin.“It does. I held the party in the hall once you and Sid were seated, to keep the back entrance clear. I figured it wouldn’t be long.”

  Writhing with humiliation, Cami managed, “He insisted we come here.”

  “Of course he did. I spotted his connection at the bar at 5:30, and expected Sid, but I had no idea you’d be arriving with him. Where’d you meet that loser?”

  “Oh, just around,” Cami said breezily, downing more wine as she silently cursed Bianca.

  “Stay away from wherever ‘around’ is, Cami,” Marcus said in a gravely voice, setting his tumbler back on the white linen covered table. “Stay away from low-lifes that you don’t know.”

  “Right. So just stick with the low-lifes I do know, instead?” she asked, raising her glass, staring at him fire-eyed. “Where, exactly, has that gotten me?”

  “Touche,” Marcus answered contritely, blue eyes brooding.

  Words escaped Cami as past humiliation and her current dire straits rolled over her in waves. Those sensations were tinged by the inescapable hum of lust she couldn’t help feeling in Marcus’s presence.

  Cami thought longingly of the big wooden door, with its fancy brass hardware, a promise of solace, escape.

  The waiter arrived with their entrees. Behind him, a sommelier, not Liah, thankfully, brought a rare Cabernet Sauvignon, a standout from Sauvignon’s cellars. The wine was uncorked and poured for Marcus, who tasted, and nodded. Cami’s glass was filled, the bottle set on the table to breathe, and they were again alone. Holding the glass’s delicate stem in her fingertips, Cami focused on the wine, slowly swirling the claret in the bowl of her glass, aerating it before she tipped it to her tongue.

  Cami was glad she’d ordered petite filet mignon, with shrimp. Slicing into red meat with a sharp knife was small satisfaction, with the evening she was having. All she’d hoped for was a horrific time tempered by a slight wine buzz, and instead she’d gotten a drug dealer, Marcus and the FBI.