The Truth About De Campo

by Jennifer Hayward

  He was now convinced Julian Edwards was a fool. That he couldn’t have been man enough for his wife. Because if that’d been him, if he’d had Quinn in his bed, she wouldn’t have been going anywhere.

  He didn’t need to know what it would be like to taste her. He’d already done it in his head.

  * * *

  Quinn woke with a massive headache and a severe desire to avoid snorting, four-legged beasts who could accidentally crush you with a misplaced step. Also a particular two-legged variety whose name started with Matteo and ended with De Campo.

  Unfortunately avoidance was not an acceptable strategy, so two aspirin and two cups of Maria’s strong black Tuscan coffee would have to do for the headache. As for the beast part? Both versions looked disgustingly fresh and beautiful in the dewy morning air, a jeans-clad Matteo in a navy T-shirt, his dark hair still damp from the shower, making a mockery of 99 percent of the world’s male population in casual attire. He was holding the reins of a dark brown mare with elegant long legs, certainly of aristocratic heritage.

  Quinn stood there, head throbbing, staring dubiously at them both.

  “I’d really rather go on foot.”

  “She is irreproachably lovely,” Matteo countered. “You’ll be fine.”

  He held the stirrup out. She took a tentative step toward the horse. Jumped as the mare snorted and blew out a breath, sending a puff of steam snaking through the air. She pressed a hand to her pounding heart. Matteo’s mouth curved. “You had a bad experience with a horse?”

  She nodded. “One bolted on me as a child. I’ve been too afraid to ride since.”

  “Someone should have gotten you back in the saddle right away. That’s the key.”

  “They tried. I wouldn’t do it.” She shifted her weight to both feet and exhaled slowly. “Really, I’d rather walk.”

  “Quinn.” There was no mistaking the command in his voice. “You cannot miss out on this experience for the rest of your life because you’re scared. I’ve never seen Marica bolt on someone. Ever.”

  She sliced him the sharpest of looks. “I’m not stupid. Anything can make a horse shy and bolt. Even the nicest animal in the world, which I’m sure she is.”

  “And here I did not take you for a quitter,” he taunted, eyes flashing. “Fine.” He gathered up the reins. “I’ll take the horses back to the stable and we’ll take the car.”

  Humiliation seared through her as he started to lead the mare away. She wasn’t a quitter. She wasn’t ever a quitter. Damn him.

  “Okay, fine.” He stopped and turned around. “I’ll do it. But so help me God if she bolts on me I will make you pay.”

  His gray eyes crinkled at the corners. “How...thought provoking. You have a deal, Quinn Davis.”

  He led the horse back to her. The inquisitive mare cocked her ears and budged Quinn’s arm with her nose. Her heart slammed into her chest. God help her. This was so not right.

  Matteo held the stirrup out for her. “I’ll be here beside you every step of the way.”

  That was not supercomforting. Not after last night. Not after she’d pretty much thrown herself at him and he’d walked away. She pressed her lips together and slid the ball of her foot into the stirrup. Hoisted herself up. Mounting a horse wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked and her lack of momentum would have sent her back to the ground if Matteo hadn’t planted a firm hand on her denim-clad behind and pushed her into the saddle.

  Heat flooded her face as she sank her hips down into the leather. “Thank you.”

  “Mounting’s the hardest part,” he came back, deadpan.

  She picked up the reins and focused on the terrifying beast rather than on Matteo’s double entendres. She had no doubt he could dish them out all day and night.

  He swung into the saddle of his very big, very dangerous-looking stallion with a lithe movement.

  “What’s his name?” she gibed. “Lucifer?”

  His eyes gleamed with laughter. “Anteros, after the Italian god of love and passion. Perfect for me, don’t you think?”

  “Utterly.”

  His smile widened. “Andiamo. Let’s go.”

  He went first on the big stallion, leading the way down the narrow dirt road that wound its way through the mountain. True to his word, Marica followed quietly, picking her dainty way down the path. Quinn’s heartbeat slowed as she took in the lush green hills dotted with the most exquisitely colored wildflowers. The rows upon rows of perfectly straight, perfectly groomed vines. Matteo pointed out the different crops at each elevation, detailing the ideal growing conditions for each varietal and why.

  When the sun had risen high in the sky, they took a break for lunch in the winery. Matteo and his master winemaker took her through the complex techniques they used to produce some of the world’s most exquisite wines. Then it was back on horseback to explore the other side of the mountain where the prize Brunellos and Chiantis were cultivated.

  They finished the tour high up on the mountain as the sun was setting, a fiery red ball sinking behind the hills. Quinn pulled her mare to a halt behind Anteros, so glad she had taken the challenge and gone on horseback. The view would not have been nearly the same in a Jeep. Would not have allowed her to truly appreciate the beauty and scale of the massive historic vineyard.

  She leaned over and patted the mare’s silky neck, feeling rather victorious at conquering her fear. The sun and fresh air had cleared the throb in her head and chased away her jet lag.

  “You really are lovely,” she murmured. The mare’s ears pricked up as if to say, yes, I know.

  Matteo dismounted, tethered his horse and came to stand beside her. A smile curved his lips. “Feeling braver?”

  She shrugged. “You were right. She’s wonderful.”

  “She is.”

  She slid her feet out of the stirrups. Her legs felt like limp spaghetti, her butt so numb she couldn’t feel it anymore. “Walking might be an issue,” she murmured.

  “Why do you think I’m standing here?” He held out his hands. “Come.”

  Why that command made her heartbeat increase by about ten beats per second was beyond her. She swung her leg over the saddle and let him lift her down. He kept his hands around her waist as he had last night to steady her, except this time she hadn’t consumed a bottle of wine and she had her wits about her. Not that that seemed to help. His earthy, male scent was even more intoxicating than the aftershave he’d had on the night before. The hard strength of his arms around her equally so. Maybe it was just the general Matteo effect, she admitted, pulling in a steadying breath. Because he was more male than any man she’d met in her life. Hands down.

  She stepped back and made herself busy spreading the blanket he handed her on the grass. If she didn’t look at all the maleness and certainly if she didn’t touch it, she could keep this under control.

  Right?

  Matteo took a bottle of De Campo’s prizewinning champagne out of the saddlebags, along with glasses and a Swiss Army knife. Quinn gave him a wry glance as she eased her sore body down on the blanket. “Not too much for me.”

  “You can’t enjoy this view without at least a taste.” He handed her the glasses and deftly opened the bottle. “It’s a tradition.”

  The sparkling liquid he poured into their glasses was the palest of golden yellows. The blanket seemed to shrink to miniscule proportions as he folded himself down beside her and handed her a glass. She eased toward the opposite edge in a subtle movement. The corners of Matteo’s mouth lifted. “I’m hogging,” she offered in an offhand tone.

  “Mmm,” he nodded. “You and your huge surface mass.”

  She couldn’t help her smile. She unleashed it so infrequently these days it felt good to get it out. “Thank you for today,” she said, tipping her glass toward him. “I’m glad you convinced me to d
o it on horseback. It was amazing.”

  “Prego.” He lifted his glass. “Salute.”

  She tipped the liquid into her mouth. The tiny bubbles exploded on her tongue like the most potent ambrosia. Wow. She wasn’t normally a huge fan of champagne or any sparkling wine for that matter, but this was dry and tart and perfectly balanced.

  Matteo sat back on his elbows. “So tell me about our trip to St. Lucia. What are we going to see?”

  She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, letting her glass dangle from her fingers. “We have two hotels on the island. They’ll allow you to see the two sides of Luxe, one of our jewels, and one of our properties that needs a lot of work. Paradis Entre les Montagnes near the island’s famous twin volcanoes has been ranked one of the world’s top five luxury hotels. Our chef there is top-notch, the menu ready to go for the wine pairings. Le Belle Bleu, on the north end of the island, is about to reopen after an extensive renovation. It’s a work in progress. The menus haven’t been finalized yet. But all the more reason for you to meet with the chef and develop the pairings from the ground up.”

  He plied her with questions as they drank their champagne. Lifted the bottle in question when she finished her half glass.

  “No...thank you,” she murmured dryly. “But I am sold. On all of it.” She waved her hand at the vineyard and castello spread out in front of them in all its magnificence. “You must be so proud to be part of such history.”

  He nodded. “I’m incredibly privileged to be a De Campo. Absolutely.”

  She heard a hesitation in his voice. “But?”

  He shrugged and looked down at the castello, sparkling like golden fire in the dying rays of the sun. “Being a De Campo can be a challenge.”

  “Your father is difficult.” Which was putting Antonio De Campo’s legendary reputation mildly.

  His mouth twisted. “He’s a titan. I’m sure you can relate.”

  “Ah yes. I wonder what would happen if we put Antonio and Warren in the ring together? Who would win?”

  His smile deepened. “I’d be fascinated to see.”

  “Did you all choose the family business or was it expected of you?”

  “There was no choice. We are De Campos.”

  Sounded familiar. “Didn’t Riccardo race cars for a while?”

  “Si.” He took a long swallow of his wine. “My father made it hell for him when he came back.”

  “Why did he come back?”

  “Antonio was ill. He wanted Riccardo to take the reins.”

  She threw him a curious look. “What would you have been if you hadn’t been a De Campo then? If you could have chosen?”

  He arched a dark brow at her. “Is this an attempt to peer into my psyche? Part of your partner personality analysis?”

  She smiled. “Answer the question.”

  “I would have been a concert pianist.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not half bad. I minored in music at Oxford.”

  Those hands. Her gaze slid to their elegant length. She yanked it back with effort. Oh, no, you don’t, Quinn. Don’t you dare start getting fascinated.

  “And you?” He waved a hand at her. “What would you have been if not a high-ranking executive?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ve never stopped to think about it. From the minute Warren saw me make scads of money with a lemonade stand, there was never any question of my path.”

  His mouth tipped up at the corner. “How did Thea end up, of all things, a veterinarian?”

  “She was hopeless with numbers. It was just never going to happen. Warren gave up.”

  “And you filled the gap.” He slid her a sideways look. “You seem very different, you two.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “I’m adopted. Not surprising.”

  “How did my intelligence miss that?”

  “It’s not something we talk about publicly. Warren and Sile adopted me when I was less than a year old.”

  “Do you know who your birth parents are?”

  She nodded. “They live in Mississippi. They weren’t able to keep me.”

  Something in her voice must have alerted him to the wealth of emotion beneath the surface. His gaze rested on her, but he didn’t push. “You and Thea seem close despite the differences.”

  “We are.” She smiled. “Thea is the one who believes in fairy tales. I’m the cynic always waiting for the penny to drop. We balance each other out.”

  “Does the penny always drop?”

  She stared down at the glowing castello. “Sometimes it does.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “My brothers and I are very different too. But close as well. Riccardo likes to rule the world. Gabriele is obsessed with his wine.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m not sure I want a label. Care to give me one?”

  Undeniably sexy. Broodily magnetic? There were just so many. She shook her head. Safer that way.

  “Do you play the piano for others?”

  “Not usually no.”

  “Do you take requests to do so?”

  “Are you asking?”

  “Maybe.” Dammit, yes she was curious, so curious to see how those beautiful hands worked a piano.

  It was better than imagining them carrying out the slow and easy seduction of a woman. Something she was definitely, absolutely never going to experience.

  His gaze turned an incendiary gray. “How about I play for you when De Campo wins the pitch?”

  Her heart tripped over itself. “Gambling again...”

  “Gambling is a miscalculation.” He levered himself up off his elbows. “Like me betting on the fact that you don’t want me to kiss you right now when you absolutely do.”

  “I don’t,” she whispered, her palms going sweaty as he leaned toward her.

  “Liar,” he murmured, cupping her jaw in his fingers, his gaze locked on hers. “You wanted me to kiss you last night and you want me to kiss you now.”

  “To which you did the smart thing and walked away,” she protested weakly.

  “Yes, but last night you’d had a bottle of wine. Tonight you’re sober.”

  “Matteo—this is—”

  “Just a kiss...” he murmured, bending his dark head toward her. She sucked in a breath, sure that wasn’t going to be an adequate description. The slow, easy slide of his mouth across hers, as if he had all the time in the world, was so unlike the urgent, rough caresses Julian had always started with that it rocked her world. Then he did it again and again, until she was craving a firmer contact. Needing it. Her fingers curled into the soft jersey of his T-shirt, steadying herself, urging him on, she wasn’t sure which.

  He made a low sound under his breath, angled his mouth over hers and took the kiss deeper, exploring every centimeter of her lips with a sensual thoroughness that turned her into a mindless pile of flesh, his to command. She had never known it could be like this—so deliciously intoxicating, so obviously meant to arouse and enjoy; not to dominate. Here on the top of the mountain, in a place like heaven, where nothing and no one else existed, she never wanted it to end.

  “Matteo—” The word sounded so breathless and needy Quinn could hardly believe it was coming from her. He reached down, captured her hand and brought it to the back of his head. Invited her closer. The wiry coarseness of his hair beneath her fingertips was undeniably male, the teasing pressure of his tongue against the corner of her mouth tantalizing. She knew if she let him in it was going to be another mind-bending demonstration of what she’d been missing. But she did it anyway because she couldn’t resist.

  Big mistake. It was hot and never ending.

  She never wanted it to end.
/>   “Quinn.”

  The husky word pulled from Matteo’s throat penetrated her consciousness with the force of a hammer. He dragged his lips across her cheek and rested his forehead against hers. “Now might be a good time to stop.”

  Stop? What was she doing?

  She yanked her hand from around his neck and sat back, her palm covering her mouth. Oh, my god. She couldn’t believe she’d just let him do that. That she’d participated in it. Eagerly.

  Matteo’s mouth flattened. “It was just a kiss, Quinn.”

  Just a kiss? She’d been necking with a man she could potentially award a ten-million-dollar contract to. If that wasn’t a conflict of interest she wasn’t sure what was!

  Apparently he was starting to realize that too, because he’d whitened under that dark tan of his. “It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re damn right it won’t happen again...” She jammed her palms against her temples. “We can’t be kissing each other, Matteo. Despite your need to satisfy your curiosity with every woman on two legs.”

  He scowled. “That is not what that was.”

  “What was it then?”

  He sighed. “A need to satisfy a curiosity specific to you, Quinn. And, a massive mistake, I agree.”

  She squashed the flutter that flickered to life in her stomach. Matteo rolled to his feet and held out a hand. “Your flight is early tomorrow. We should go.”

  She eyed the appendage warily, then took it. He pulled her up, stepping away from her as soon as she was level.

  They didn’t speak as they made their way down the mountain, the sky darkening into early dusk. Matteo led the way on Anteros, Marica following at a slow, steady pace. Quinn wished desperately for some of her mare’s calm demeanor. Because that had not been her. She hadn’t been able to let a man near her since Julian. Hadn’t wanted to. Yet every time she got within five feet of Matteo De Campo she wanted his hands all over her.