Two to Tango

by Kate Kisset

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Marina Adair. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original St. Helena Vineyard Series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Marina Adair, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Two to Tango

  Family Ties – Book 1

  Kate Kisset

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the St. Helena Vineyard’s Kindle World, where romance is waiting to be uncorked and authors from around the globe are invited to share their own stories of love and happily ever after. Set in the heart of wine country, this quaint town and its cast of quirky characters were the inspiration behind my St Helena Vineyard series, and the Hallmark Channel movie, AUTUMN IN THE VINEYARD. I want to thank these incredible authors for spending time in St. Helena, and all of you readers who are adventurous enough to take the journey with us.

  I hope you enjoy your time here as much as we have.

  Warmly,

  Marina Adair

  Table of Contents

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  KATE KISSET LINKS

  ABOUT KATE KISSET

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thank you to Marina Adair for inviting me to write in your vibrant, funny, and romantic world! This is a dream come true for me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Crouched next to her Toyota, using the car for cover, Scarlett Hale peered over the hood. There didn’t seem to be anything out of order. But then there rarely was in this quiet neighborhood of Victorian and Craftsman bungalow homes.

  And surprisingly, there wasn’t a nosy neighbor in sight. If her family got wind of her being back in St. Helena without telling them, she’d have some explaining to do.

  She double-checked the address and stuck her phone back in her pocket. Already in a sweat from ninety-degree weather and the fifty-five-mile drive from Davis, she shouldered her duffel and sprinted to the front yard. Skimming the perimeter of the immaculate garden, Scarlett spotted the fake blue rock in the corner near the rose bush, and made a beeline for it.

  Her long brown ponytail swished against her back as she raced across the grass while keeping an eagle eye on her surroundings. Because if she wasn’t careful, Pricilla Moreau, Deidre Potter, or any of the town's other orthopedically-clad busybodies, would spot her and tattle.

  Scarlett glanced over her shoulder again before tipping the rock over and finding the key exactly where her best friend, Regan, said it would be. With it clamped in her fist, Scarlett tore across the yard, took two steps at a time up the front porch stairs, unlocked the door, dashed inside, and slammed it shut.

  Whew! Mission accomplished.

  Now she just had to stay out of sight until after tomorrow's meeting with Dr. Huntington, the town’s veterinarian.

  She bolted the door behind her, turned…and the view took her breath away. A wall of windows revealed an olive tree-bordered patio with a fire pit, table, and sofas. Beyond, row after row of plump vines climbed up a rolling hill brushed with purple hues. It must have been a breeze that made the vines dip and shimmy. Or maybe the late afternoon light created an optical illusion. Whatever it was, the grapevines appeared to be dancing.

  Scarlett blew out a sigh and looked around. Now, this is a great room.

  To the right, in front of the wall of windows, a bright stainless steel kitchen with a basket of goodies, a cheese board, and a bottle of wine on a marble counter welcomed her. To the left, deep sofas surrounded a magnificent stone fireplace underneath the largest flat screen television she’d ever seen.

  Naturally, Regan had downplayed the accommodations when she referred to this place as a "cottage no one ever uses." Should’ve known. The DeLucas don’t do quaint.

  Under ordinary circumstances, Scarlett wouldn’t have accepted Regan’s invitation. But when Regan called with the scoop that silver fox Dr. Huntington, St. Helena’s only vet, wanted to sell his practice and move to Willamette Valley, Scarlett took Regan up on her offer and hightailed it back to her home town. If her meeting with him tomorrow went well, her family would be ecstatic, because she’d finally be able to return to St. Helena to live.

  Her flip-flops slapped against the beige flagstone tiles while she carried her duffel through the great room and down the hall on the left, to the bedroom Regan said would be hers. Feeling like a snoop, even though there was no reason to, she cautiously peeked into the room before tiptoeing in. What have we here? A bedroom made for a princess with very high-end taste?

  Glancing up occasionally to watch the dimming light play on the vines through the French doors, Scarlett tossed the duffel bag on the bed and unpacked her perfectly bland, perfectly suited-for-any-occasion wardrobe.

  With the sunset sky bouncing grenadine hues off the cream bedroom walls, Scarlett made a pact with herself to do a little shopping after tomorrow’s meeting. After all, she was taking time off for the first time in years. There were no pets to care for here, no fur-baby parents to give bad news to, and no interns to teach.

  Scarlett couldn’t remember the last time she could simply…be…Scarlett.

  Thank goodness the Top Ramen dinner she packed—so she could stay in hiding and avoid shopping at Picker's Produce, Meats, and More—survived the road trip relatively unscathed at the bottom of her duffel.

  After freshening up, she took off her bra and slingshotted it into an open drawer. The torture device had been digging into her all day.

  Then she changed into her most faded and beloved yoga pants and a tee, grabbed the dented Top Ramen Styrofoam cup, and traipsed back toward the kitchen to investigate. By the look of the spread on the counter she passed on the way in, she could save the dried noodles for another day.

  Still clutching her Top Ramen, she entered the front room. The sun had set, and the view out the enormous window was dark now.

  The kitchen light was on.

  She crept closer and quickly scanned the kitchen, from the window to the basket on the counter and down.

  She froze.

  Fear pulsed through her in quick spurts. With his broad back facing her, a man with thick, cocoa hair, wrapped in only a towel, was crouched in front of the counter, rummaging through a bottom cabinet full of pans, and making a racket. Metal clanged against metal, banging and reverberating through the space…

  …and still Scarlett couldn’t move. An assailant so cocky he doesn’t bother to put a shirt on? The front door. Get. To. The. Door. Scarlett sucked in a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs.

  The man ducked, grabbed his towel, and looked wildly around the room. “What?!”

  She hadn’t meant to scream, didn’t have time to think twice, just hurled the Top Ramen at him with all her might. The mixture of adrenaline and skill from her years on Oregon State's softball team propelled the soup at a high speed in a straight line.

  Thwack! It smacked him square on the forehead.

  “Ow…”

  The intruder was none other than Jake Martelli, San Francisco sportscaster, Gabe DeLuca’s cousin, and the man she spent the majority of Gabe and Regan’s wedding reception with.

  He straightened and hit his head on the lip of the countertop. “Shit.” Rubbing his scalp, he scrambled to his feet, one hand still clutching the towel. “Hey. Hi. Wow.”

  “What are you doing here?” Regan hadn’t mentioned she’d be sharing the place. And certainly not wit
h him. What the hell, Regan?

  Scarlett’s freaked-out brain rushed back to the memory of dancing with Jake at Regan and Gabe’s wedding.

  During the reception, which lasted all night, they progressed from fast dances to slow songs until finally they were rocking in place, hugging and holding each other to the music. And during the old Chicago song, Color My World, their bodies melted together.

  She’d been in flames all night. And right when they were about to kiss, Regan interrupted, needing Scarlett’s help to get ready for the honeymoon.

  “I’m sorry I scared you.” Jake put a pan down on the counter. “You have exceptional form, by the way.”

  “Sorry I hit you.” Scarlett peered at the ceiling, searching for a stray cobweb, something—anything—to keep her eyes off him. After Regan and Gabe’s wedding, she and Jake saw each other at least a few times a year at family occasions, or during the holidays. Although the timing hadn’t been right, because one or the other was always with a date, Scarlett felt those sneaky tingles of possibility around Jake every time they met.

  She didn’t want to look again, and really didn’t mean to, but the sight of Jake’s gorgeous face and moist-from-the-shower, tanned, taut body overpowered any rational thinking. With his towel draped precariously low, exposing the curvature of his pelvis…which was, quite frankly, made to make a woman’s eyes travel down to where the trail of hair would no doubt lead to the happiest place on earth…Scarlett did what any woman would do. She gawked. Mouth wide open.

  And…Jake caught her staring. Making a miraculous recovery from his head injury, his dark, sexy eyes flashed across the room in obvious flirt mode. “It’s nice to see you too.”

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” she demanded.

  “Probably for the same reason you’re not wearing a bra.” His eyes locked on her chest, his stare stepping from left to right and back again. “Like I said, it’s great to see you.”

  His raspy, deep voice triggered another round of delightful thrills, which didn’t help her concentration. Scarlett hadn’t experienced a solitary, male-driven flutter since her fiancé confessed he'd fallen out of love with her. In fact, she hadn’t seen this much hairless skin on a male animal with two legs in over a year.

  “It’s nice to see you, too,” slipped out of her mouth. She contemplated the lock of hair on his forehead, his sculpted chin, his chest, and south. She caught herself at his belly button, feeling heat rush up to her cheeks. Adding insult to blushing, her nipples brushed against her T-shirt, sending a wake-up call below.

  Scarlett folded her arms, making a silent promise to kill Regan. This had to be a setup. There was no other explanation.

  Three quick knocks on the front door interrupted their stunned silence.

  “Expecting anyone?” Unfortunately, Jake still clutched his towel, eliminating the possibility of it hitting the floor or even flying open.

  Another round of pounds rattled through the house.

  “I’ve got this.” Scarlett bolted, thanking the Lord for a reason to get away from the Jake eye-candy banquet, ready to give Regan a piece of her mind. How could Regan even consider setting her up at a time like this? She straightened her T-shirt and took a deep breath…but every modicum of composure vanished when she turned the knob.

  “What’s going on, Regan?” she snapped. “What the hell are you up to?”

  “I don’t think your mother would be pleased with your greeting, Scarlett,” Chiara Amalia Giovanna Ryo huffed. Clad in a smart cream pantsuit, she brought a bejeweled hand to her head and patted her stiff gray updo.

  Then she turned to a gray-haired woman standing next to her. Their facial features were almost identical, except the other woman’s hair was a mass of gray curls, and she wore a long, flowing blue caftan, gold dangling earrings, and about a pound of necklaces.

  “Do you believe this?” she demanded of her as-yet-unnamed friend.

  Great. The last thing Scarlett needed was to piss off Chiara Ryo in front of her friend. Scarlett’s family had known the DeLucas for years, and Ms. Ryo raised her son’s children after he and his wife died in a terrible car accident. And although Scarlett wasn’t a close friend of Chiara’s, she knew enough to fear the founder of Ryo Wines, and St. Helena’s self-appointed meddler-matriarch.

  “I’m so sorry, Ms. Ryo.” Braless, with the matriarch’s half-naked nephew in the kitchen, Scarlett opened the door wider, gesturing for the women to enter. Nice way to make a good impression.

  Clutching her Valentino handbag close to her body, Ms. Ryo scrutinized Scarlett. “You are in the presence of two Ryos. This is my sister, Charlotte Contessa Liliana Ryo.”

  Scarlett did a double take. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Scarlett couldn’t help bowing a little.

  Charlotte’s pale blue eyes flickered, and then, seemingly as an afterthought, she presented a limp, freckled hand, palm down. “You may call me Cha-Cha.”

  Of course. She’d met the queen of the Cha-Cha Pasta Empire before, briefly, at Regan’s wedding. Learning her nickname made the pieces of the puzzle come together. The slogan she’d heard a million times, “Cha-Cha Pasta. A little cha-cha in every bite,” rattled through her brain. She almost didn’t recognize the pasta queen in her maharishi muumuu.

  Hesitantly, Scarlett shook her hand. Should she have kissed it?

  “If you’re going to be on familiar terms with my sister,” Chiara declared regally, with her nose in the air, “you may call me ChiChi.” Her doe-brown eyes narrowed, overtly examining Scarlett’s face, then trailing down to her no doubt beet-red neck, and finally to her T-shirt. “Tsk, tsk.”

  “I didn’t know you were coming over.” Scarlett rubbed the back of her neck. “Or I wouldn’t have changed into my comfy clothes.” She barely managed to resist the urge to ditch out the door and run like hell.

  “Nonna?” Jake asked. “Aunt ChiChi?”

  “Darling!” Both women elbowed past Scarlett, waddling toward him, leaving hints of rum, cinnamon, and Aqua Net in their wake.

  Jake planted two kisses on both of their cheeks and ushered them to the living room area. ChiChi summoned Scarlett with a wave to join the family on the couch.

  “A glass of wine? Hungry? There’s a box of Pricilla’s mascarpone Danishes in the kitchen,” Jake offered.

  “So you saw them.” Cha-Cha beamed. “I stopped by the Sweet and Savory just for you, darling.” She adjusted a multitude of jangling bangles and bracelets on her wrist. “I know they’re your favorite.”

  Scarlett sank into the far corner of the couch near the fireplace, giving the sisters Ryo a wide berth.

  “Thank you for the offer, dear, but we won’t be staying long." ChiChi sniffed. "Regan asked us to stop by and explain the mix-up. But I can see you two are already”—she tossed Scarlett one raised brow and then winked at Cha-Cha—“adjusting to the situation perfectly.”

  “They call it hooking up,” Cha-Cha said. “I learned the term in my body beautiful sketch class. That’s what the kids call it these days, ChiChi, hooking up. You need to stay current with these things.”

  “Please, Nonna, can you not say hooking up?” Jake rolled his eyes. “Will you all please excuse me while I get dressed?” He gripped the knot in his towel. “And be nice to Scarlett.”

  No. Scarlett’s heart pounded out of her skin at the thought of being alone with them. She snatched the throw pillow closest to her and hugged it.

  After a few minutes of chitchat and staring at the walls, Jake reappeared, dressed in a very well-fitted T-shirt and jeans. He parked his soulful, brown-eyed, sexy self in a chair on the opposite side of the room, looking disarmingly awesome in clothes.

  “We were discussing accommodations, Jake.” ChiChi pointed her nose at him. “Your input is appreciated.”

  Gulping, Scarlett stared at the front door and held onto the pillow for dear life. If she wanted distractions, she could have stayed at her mom’s house. No way would she be able to focus on buying Dr. Huntington’s practice wi
th Jake in the house.

  He’d be too hard. No. It would be too hard to concentrate. That’s what she meant to think.

  But she couldn’t think, so she blurted, “I can stay at my mom’s house.” Scarlett turned to Jake. “Really. It’s no big deal.”

  Jake shook his head. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I wasn’t expecting anyone else in the house either.”

  “I can go. Please, I’m mortified,” she explained, hoping Jake would understand she couldn’t stay. “I’m sorry I freaked. I hadn’t settled in, and I see this half-naked man…”

  “Jake,” he reminded her, as if she could forget.

  “Right. Of course. Sorry. Jake.” Scarlett placed the pillow next to her on the couch, and, deciding it was time to take a stand, rose. “I’ll just throw my things in my bag and get out of your hair. Thank you for everything. Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

  “Sit, child,” ChiChi commanded, but her eyes seemed warm. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve known your parents since they day they bought the farmhouse on Silverado Trail. God rest your poor father’s soul.” She touched her forehead, muttering, “name of the father.” Cha-Cha fell in sync with her sister, praying and crossing herself.

  Scarlett swallowed hard and plunked back down into the cushions.

  “Dear, this is my property,” ChiChi cautioned. “I have the final word on who stays and who goes. Obviously, Regan got her wires crossed. She’s so busy with my adorable grandchildren, it’s not surprising she confused the dates.” She daintily brushed invisible crumbs off her lap. “Regan and I hoped to beat both of you here to smooth things over.”

  “Auntie, listen…” Jake cast Scarlett a reassuring glance, giving her hope. “Look, I can stay at the Napa Grand. I’m sure Marc has an extra room.” Raising his brows, he leaned toward his grandmother. “Nonna, what do you say?”

  Cha-Cha decidedly closed her mouth and ran a pudgy finger along the top of the coffee table. She inspected her fingertip for dust.