“I forgot to tell you. Get your crop in. It’s going to rain hard, and it’s too late for sulfur.”
Planting her hands on her hips, Paige cocked her head. “There isn’t a cloud in the sky. Have you been outside today?”
“I’m telling you, Paige. It’s going to rain. I saw a cow with her tail up when I drove by the farm off Highway 29 near the road to Sonoma. And she wasn’t doing what cows usually do when their tails are raised.”
“And that means it’s going to rain?” said Paige, her lips twitching.
“It does. So check your sugars. And get that crop in.”
The last rain storm was an anomaly. It was September—barely—and the heat was turned up. It was not going to rain again, tails up or tails down.
She giggled again on the way to her truck, twisting to music still filling her head. Leave it to Nana to lighten her mood.
But now she had one more thing to worry about.
Chapter Twelve
“A slab of barbecued ribs with beans, slaw, and biscuits—heaven with a hearty red zinfandel with just a hint of spice…”
—from Paige Reynoso’s tasting notes
Jake unfastened his seat belt, stood to stretch his legs, and turned on his cell phone. His Saturday morning flight from New York to San Francisco had been smooth and on time. His rental car was waiting. After spending so much time here, it was starting to feel like home. He drove to Napa in record time. The stretch of freeway that bordered downtown Napa, narrowing into a two-lane highway, was unusually busy today, as was the traffic turning into the town. Summer traffic or some event? He’d have to check.
Turning onto the Trail and later into his driveway, he punched in the gate code and headed up the hill. He didn’t see anyone working, but maybe the crew had the day off. He passed Paige’s house, noting that her truck was gone. Good. That would give him time to be sure he had his act together before he saw her again.
Even though the last time they were together had ended badly, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He thought about her smile and how the tip of her braid touched his shoulder as she leaned over him to point out a figure on a chart. He remembered the fullness of her breasts pressed into his chest on the disastrous night when his emotions went into overdrive and his brain shut down.
He’d stow his gear, check messages, and wander downtown to see what was going on.
He parked near the house and bounded out of the car, taking his black overnight bag, laptop, and briefcase with him. A woman he didn’t recognize greeted him at the door.
“You must be Mr. Madison. I’m Molly Morgan, your temporary housekeeper. Your secretary didn’t tell me what time you were arriving, but I have iced tea made, and I can fix you a quick sandwich if you’re hungry.” She’d been working at the small desk in the kitchen. A laptop computer lay open and a stack of recipe cards were placed next to it.
“I’d like that. Thanks. By the way, do you know what all the activity is in town?”
“You must mean the Harvest Fair. It’s at the fairgrounds on Second Street. It’s very local. If you have time to go down there later, you might enjoy it, sir.”
“Let’s knock off the ‘sir.’ I’m Jake. ‘Sir’ is what I called my father.”
A hearty rumble shook her thin frame and threatened to dislodge the tortoiseshell glasses perched at the end of her long nose.
Jake accepted the glass of tea and headed for his office. His mouth watered at the smell of fragrant pastries wafting through the hall from the kitchen. He’d missed this place, the peace and the silence, and the vistas. Most of all he missed the woman who listened intently to his stories and shared her opinions with candor. He put down his briefcase and continued to the bedroom. Returning to the kitchen, he found a ham and cream cheese sandwich on a croissant, orange slices topped with red onion rings on a lettuce leaf, and a fat brownie for dessert.
“Do you know where Paige is today?” he asked between mouthfuls.
“She’s probably downtown at the fair. Her sister’s in charge of a booth, and I think she said she was going to help out after lunch.”
“Maybe I’ll go down and check it out. How’s she been?” He didn’t want to sound nosy, but he’d left a lot of things unresolved. And he couldn’t wait to see her.
“We leave notes for each other, but she’s usually out in the fields before I arrive, so I don’t see her.”
That was Paige. Working endlessly to make the property more valuable.
Jake swallowed the last of his lunch and headed for the shower.
…
The day was made for shorts and tank tops, but Paige had dressed in a loose cotton skirt and peasant blouse, and twisted her hair in a knot at the back of her head. Her sister was in charge of the Vineyard Worker Services booth until three o’clock. They were raising money for scholarships. Business had been brisk, primarily because of Mariel, who was considered the family beauty. She also had one of those outgoing personalities that drew people like a half-price sale.
“Try your luck,” her sister called out in her musical voice. “Knock over a clown and win a prize. One try for a dollar. Three tries for five.”
Mariel took her singsong pitch along the line of booths, trying to entice more customers. Paige tidied up the booth. She bent over and picked up two balls that had fallen on the ground.
“What will I win?” said a familiar voice.
Paige straightened and slowly turned around. She wasn’t prepared for the free fall in her stomach or the increase in her heart rate.
He rejected you. Remember that.
She took a deep breath and placed the balls in the tray at the front of the booth as their eyes met and the corners of his mouth turned up in that dazzling, here-I-am grin. Why did he have to smile like that? She wanted to be icy and distant, but that smile could melt a glacier.
Recovering her composure, Paige pasted a smile on her face. “When did you get in?”
“An hour ago.”
Paige caught sight of Mariel in the distance and waved for her to come back. If she was going to keep to her resolve, she needed reinforcements. Jake, even an arm’s length away, was too unsettling. She hadn’t expected to see him today and was unprepared for the physical reaction he caused. Schooling her features, she set up the balls. Her hand brushed his as he handed over his five dollars. Even that brief contact made her hand warm.
“Okay, what do I do?” he asked.
“Try to knock over a clown.”
“They’re weighted on the bottom, right?”
“I see you’ve done this before.”
“I’ve been to my share of carnivals.”
He picked up the first ball and focused on the middle doll. Taking aim, he concentrated on the spot he wanted to hit, then reared back and let it fly.
Paige caught herself watching his muscles shift under the thin T-shirt as he threw the first ball. It hit the target, but the clown remained upright.
“Two more tries,” she said.
Jake picked up the second ball, aimed at his target, then stopped.
“What do I get if I knock it over?”
“You get your choice of those cute little teddy bears hanging from the ceiling.”
“What if I want something else?” His gaze lingered on her lips.
“Like what?” She looked away.
“Let me think while I throw this.”
He reared back and threw as hard as he could, knocking the clown back, but not off the stand.
“Does that count for a small bear?”
Paige laughed. She couldn’t help herself. She loved watching him, as intent on knocking over the clown as he had been studying production reports. He didn’t do anything halfway. He gave everything his full, undivided attention.
What would that concentration be like in bed? Would he take it slow and study each body part before he pleasured it? Bad girl.
Her cheeks grew warm, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed.
“I think I need more incentive. How about a
dance over at the bandstand?”
The twang of a country-western band drifted over from the nearest band shell in the fairgrounds. Even in the heat, couples were engaged in a lively line dance.
“You’re on,” said Paige, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.
Jake took the ball and lined it up with the base of the clown, his eyes focused, his tongue at the corner of his mouth. He twisted to the side, like a major-league pitcher, lifting his leg as he threw overhand into the line of clowns. The powerful toss knocked one off its stand.
“Wow. I haven’t seen anyone do that today,” said a musical voice as Mariel entered the booth. “Which prize would you like? You can choose.”
Jake turned toward the sister and then back at Paige.
“I want this one,” he said, pointing at Paige.
“I promised him a dance,” she quickly said to her sister. “By the way, this is Jake Madison.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Madison. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Paige cringed at her sister’s teasing tone.
“You have?” He stole a glance at Paige and grinned.
“I have, indeed. Go ahead and claim your prize. I can take over the booth.”
He grabbed Paige’s hand and tunneled through the crowd to the wooden dance floor, temporarily placed on the grass. The band was now playing a slow tune, suitable for cuddling to music. Paige stiffened as he took her in his arms and drew her close.
“Relax. I’m not going to bite, you know.”
Jake’s playful mood reminded her of the easy camaraderie they’d shared before the night of the storm. If that was how their relationship was going to be from now on, she’d take it. She’d missed him.
The note he’d left said he was sorry. He’d lost control. Her own reaction had been quite different. For her it had been more than a potential release of pent-up sexual energy. It had been an awakening, the realization that she was ready to experience whatever life brought her. But she’d made up her mind that if Jake just wanted friendship, she’d settle for that.
That was before he took her in his arms and the lust came crashing back like a wave curling toward shore.
A hint of spicy aftershave drew her closer, but she resisted melting into him and tucking her head against his neck. It was broad daylight, for heaven’s sake.
Conscious of the proximity of other dancers, some of whom she knew, she didn’t want to generate any more gossip. If she were completely honest, she was afraid if she closed her eyes she’d become lost in the music and lost in the man. God help her, it’s what she wanted to do. The minute she heard his voice behind her, she knew her heart was in serious danger.
“You’re quiet. You usually have a lot to say.” He looked down at her with eyebrows raised slightly, his full lips turning up at the corners. His dimple showing.
“I was thinking.”
“What about? Whatever it was made you frown.”
She couldn’t tell him she was thinking about him, so she quickly made up something. “Work. Seeing you reminded me of everything that has to be done before we pick on Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?”
“Yes, the sugar should be perfect then.”
“Can I help?”
Paige threw her head back and laughed.
“What’s so funny? You think I can’t do manual labor?”
His right hand was warm against her back and his left one held her fingers tightly as they moved slowly and smoothly to the music. She allowed him to pull her close again, and she felt his heart beating against her. Or was it hers? He turned her smoothly, and as the band stopped, he pulled her close in brief hug, then let her go.
She stood aside as he moved a little bit ahead. His gait was smooth, as though there had never been a sprain.
He looked back. “What are you staring at?”
“I was watching you walk.”
“You were?” He raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not limping at all now.”
“Nope. Everything’s healed.”
She started walking back to the booth. Jake grabbed her hand, and they walked together. Mama and Mariel were waiting there with Nicky.
“Aunt Paige, Aunt Paige. Watch me hit the clown.”
Nicky was dressed in his Little League uniform, ready to go to his game. He reared back, squinting, and let the ball go. It sailed past the clowns lined up on their pedestals and hit the back of the booth.
“You’ve got two more tries,” said Mariel.
“Mama, this is Jake Madison. Jake, my mother, Francesca Reynoso,” said Paige.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Madison.”
“And nice to meet you.”
They turned back to watch Nicky as he lined up his ball with the end of his nose, then threw as hard as he could, clipping one clown as the ball bounced off.
To Paige’s surprise, Jake stepped forward and squatted in front of the boy.
“Let me tell you a secret. It isn’t the force of the ball that does the trick. It’s placement. So aim at the bottom of the clown and see if you can do better.”
Nicky glanced at his grandmother, then back at Jake. “Thanks. I’ll try it.”
He took his time and threw toward the base of the clown. It wobbled, but stayed upright.
“I hit it, I hit it,” he said excitedly.
“And I think you should get a prize for that,” said Jake, nodding at one of the bears.
“Can I, Aunt Mariel?”
“Sure. After all, you probably don’t weigh as much as the teenage boys that usually try their luck at this booth, and you almost knocked it down.”
He studied the choices carefully, pointing to one, then another before choosing a panda at the end of the row. He handed the bear to his grandmother and pointed at Jake.
“Is he your boyfriend?” His question was directed at Paige.
Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “No, he’s my boss.”
Nicky looked back at Paige. “Your face is all red, Aunt Paige. Are you all right?”
“It’s a warm day, and I’ve been dancing.”
“With him?”
“Yes. You sure are inquisitive today, muchacho.”
“Is he going to be your boyfriend? Like Manuel?” He turned and looked directly at Jake. “He died, you know.”
Conversation stopped. Paige looked at her mother, then down at her sandaled feet. What had made Nicky say that?
Drums beat steadily in the distance. Children screeched on the nearby Ferris wheel. An announcer on another stage called people to the grape stomp competition, and giggles from a group of teenage girls, texting on cell phones, blended with the other sounds as they passed by.
Francesca grabbed Nicky’s hand and turned to Jake.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Madison. Paige? Are you coming? It’s time to go to the ballpark.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She swallowed, composed her features, and faced Jake. “Thanks for stopping by. I’ll be testing sugars in the morning. If you’re interested, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
She was aware of Jake staring at her, a perplexed crease over his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth turned down. Picking up her limp hand, he gave it a little shake as he made a mock formal bow. “Until tomorrow, then. I’ll wander down to the barn when I get up.”
He turned to Francesca and Nicky.
“Remember, Nicky, take time to place your ball. You’ll get better results.”
He walked away.
Paige followed her mother and Nicky toward the parking lot. It had been an awkward moment, but Nicky was a child. He didn’t know any better. Would Jake let it go, or would he start asking his questions? She didn’t want sympathy, but maybe if she talked more about Manuel, she would finally be free of him.
She had made a good start, but she certainly wasn’t free of him yet.
Chapter Thirteen
“Syrah is a dark red, robust, spicy varietal with a solid plum finish, good wi
th cioppino and bouillabaisse, pizza, and duck.”
—from Paige Reynoso’s tasting notes
Paige woke up sobbing, the taste of blood strong in her mouth as the nightmare faded. She turned on the bedside lamp and peered into the shadows of her bedroom. The only sound was the ticking of an antique clock in the hallway. She sat up and threw off the covers. Sweat drenched her nightshirt and pillowcase.
She rose and turned on the faucet in the bathroom. The sound of running water calmed her. She washed her face and neck with a damp cloth, then padded quietly to her bureau where she took out a fresh T-shirt. She turned her pillow over and lay back down, leaving the light on. Staring at the ceiling, she asked herself the inevitable question: why now? It had been at least six months—no, eight—since she’d last dreamt of Manuel’s accident.
It must have been Nicky’s innocent question about Jake being her boyfriend and his equally innocent comment regarding Manuel’s death.
The numbers on her bedside clock showed two a.m. She closed her eyes, but any chance of sleep was gone. Pulling herself upright, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her robe. A cup of herbal tea and a couple of chapters of a book on vineyard canopies would allow a sleeping pill to do its job. She needed that sleep. It was nearing time for harvest.
…
Jake watched the play of lights in the distance from his bedroom terrace, a snifter of brandy in his hand. The moon and stars were bright tonight. He’d seen a light go on in Paige’s house earlier, when he was in the kitchen. Was she as restless as he? Maybe he should call her. No. That would be a bad idea, just like dancing with her today.
He had promised himself he would keep a “hands off” policy around her. It wasn’t fair to her, or to him, to imply there could ever be more. But her presence had drawn him like a bee to the scent of roses, and once he saw her, he knew he’d break that promise. He thought he had more willpower. Apparently not.
His brow wrinkled as he concentrated on the liquid swirling in his glass. Who was Manuel? When did he die? The thought of her having a boyfriend who died gnawed at him. He felt worse about not honoring his resolution to leave her alone. He should pack up and take off. It would be the right thing to do, given his likely medical prognosis.
A Kiss of Cabernet Page 12
