Heard It Through the Grapevine

by Pamela Browning

  His gaze devoured her, admired her. “Shouldn’t you keep your eyes on the road?” she asked, her voice quavering so that she hardly sounded like herself.

  He faced front again, and she decided it was time to discuss something. Anything, as long as it would make her stop thinking about his rock-solid good looks and the gleam in his eye that made her want to—

  Lean over and kiss him?

  Well, it was true. She loved kissing Josh Corbett, and that was the unalterable truth. Suddenly, her mouth went dry, and she gripped the armrest as she cautioned herself not to actually do it.

  “This reminds me of that day at Dunsmoor Castle when I came to pick you up for our planned date in a BMW much like this one,” Josh said. “The main difference was that the steering wheel was on the right side of the car.”

  She remembered only too well. “And when I went to get in it, I automatically walked around that side, which I thought was the passenger’s side, and we bumped smack into each other. I was so embarrassed.”

  “Why? It was a perfectly natural mistake. Our steering wheels are on the left in this country.”

  “The cameras were rolling, and millions of people around the world would see me bumbling around like an idiot,” she said.

  “They saw you acting like a perfectly normal intelligent woman. You were charming.”

  “I remember you said something funny, like you always hated to be right. It took me a few seconds to figure out that you meant ‘right’ as in direction, not ‘right’ as in being correct.”

  That had been a lovely day, driving across the moors to a charming abbey-turned-restaurant, where they’d been treated to a delicious dinner of Scottish food, most notably haggis. When Gina had found out that haggis consisted of ground sheep’s innards, minced suet, oatmeal and seasonings boiled in a sheep’s stomach, she’d almost tossed her cookies on the spot. But she’d summoned the courage to try it and decided she liked it.

  “Those were the days,” Josh said in a mock nostalgic tone before reaching over and taking her hand.

  “Shouldn’t you keep both hands on the steering wheel?” she asked him.

  “What is it with you? ‘Keep your eyes on the road. Keep your hands on the steering wheel.’ Oh, there’s a hot-air balloon,” he said.

  The balloon was big and bright red. It was sailing toward the mountains in the distance, its occupants mere dots in the large wicker basket that swung below.

  “There are always balloons to be seen on fine days,” Gina said.

  “I bet that’s fun,” Josh said. “Have you ever been up in one?”

  “Yes, several times. Rocco and I took Frankie up a couple of years ago for his birthday.”

  “I’ll bet you had a great time.”

  “Until Frankie got sick. He upchucked down the front of my dress. As it turned out, he doesn’t do well with heights.”

  “Would you like to go again? I promise not to do what Frankie did.”

  Gina laughed. “Maybe. I might even get free tickets after the bachelor auction.” She could have bitten her tongue; why had she brought up the auction?

  Josh slid a look over at her. “Why’s that?”

  “The balloon company donates them, and some people are afraid to go up.”

  “Not me. I signed up for the bachelor auction. Did you notice my name on the list?”

  “I heard about it at our last committee meeting,” Gina said with what passed for remarkable forbearance.

  “You don’t sound thrilled,” he said.

  “Of course I am.”

  “Does that mean that maybe you’ll bid for me?” he asked mischievously.

  “I can’t, Josh. I’m the mistress of ceremonies.”

  His face fell. “I didn’t realize that,” he said. His surprise was evident, but he didn’t seem disappointed enough.

  “It never occurred to me to mention it,” she said, forcing a smile. “Anyway, we’re hoping that this year’s auction will put us over the top so we can start construction on the teen center next year.”

  He seemed distracted, his thoughts elsewhere. “A teen center,” he said musingly.

  “It’s important to me. Really important.”

  “Tell me about it,” he said, catching her off guard.

  “Like almost everything in my life, it has to do with family,” she said quietly. “My sister Barbara’s son, to be exact.”

  “Don’t she and Nick have only the two daughters, Mia and Stacey?” Josh asked.

  “Their eldest child, Nicky, died in a motorcycle accident four years ago. They—and everyone else in our family—were devastated. He was fifteen years old.”

  Now she had Josh’s full attention. “I’m really sorry, Gina. What happened?”

  Remembering that time in her life was always difficult. Nicky had been an exuberant teenager, adored by and popular with his peers. His death had saddened them all and been so unnecessary.

  Gina needed a minute or so to collect herself and didn’t answer immediately. “Nicky was riding on the back of a motorcycle that belonged to a seventeen-year-old who had been driving for less than a year. They’d gone to an afternoon movie and were casting about for something to do. Rod—that was Nicky’s friend’s name—suggested riding over to Sonoma, and Nicky agreed to go. Rod was speeding when they came around a curve, and they hit a truck head-on. Rod was thrown clear, and he’s still struggling to learn to walk again. Nicky made it to the hospital, but his injuries were so serious that he died the next day.”

  “That’s terrible. It must have been hard on Barbara and Nick.”

  Gina nodded. “Barb was severely depressed for a long time. Nick held their marriage together, convinced her to pull out of her depression for the sake of their girls.” She paused and drew a deep breath. “When I grew up in Rio Robles, I found it dull and uninteresting. If there had been a place where kids could get together and do the things kids like to do—dance, and play music and games—I would have been a lot happier. And maybe if there had been someplace for kids to gather, Rod and Nicky wouldn’t have gone to Sonoma. We’re going to name the teen center after Nicky. We can’t bring him back, but we hope we can convince kids that they don’t have to head out of town for something worthwhile to do.”

  “That’s great, Gina. I mean it.” Josh squeezed her hand.

  Gina leaned back against the headrest, thinking that never in her wildest dreams had she suspected that she and Josh Corbett would be tooling along the open road in the Napa Valley discussing a topic so dear to her.

  They drove in silence for a time until he spoke. “I was just remembering how beautiful you were on that day when we went to the abbey.”

  She’d found Josh particularly dashing in a tweed jacket, his dark hair windblown and his cheeks ruddy from the wind. He’d caught her hand in his as they left the castle, and they’d raced, laughing, all the way to the car.

  He went on talking. “You wore a bright red sweater.”

  “Actually, it was magenta. Bought at a woolen mill not far from Dunsmoor. The wool made you sneeze.”

  “It fit you perfectly. And you also wore jeans.”

  “Borrowed from one of my cousins.”

  “And the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.”

  “That,” she said, “was all my own.”

  “And you made a face when the waiter told you what haggis was.”

  “I did not! I ate it first thing!” She was indignant.

  “I thought you were going to do what Frankie did up there in the balloon. You should have seen your face.”

  “You should have seen yours. I don’t recall your eating the haggis.”

  “I had a different sort of appetite by that time. Even though I knew there would be a cameraman in the back seat on the way home, I was sure we’d kiss.”

  “I wasn’t,” she said dreamily, recalling how Josh had seemed so sure of himself that for half the ride home it had seemed like arrogance instead of self-confidence. When they had pulled off the hig
hway onto the lane that led to the castle, rain began to pour from the sky, and Josh had eased the car over to the side of the road. His arm tightened around her shoulders, and they felt curtained off from the world by the rain and by their own involvement. Gina forgot about her fellow contestants back at the castle, who would be lined up to greet her when she returned, and the cameraman, who was relentlessly recording their every breath and sigh. All she knew in that breathless interlude was that Josh’s strong arms were around her, and his beard was rough against her cheek, and his voice was whispering in her ear so quietly that the camera would not pick up the sound.

  She was brought back to the present time by a sign looming up on the right side of the road. “Here’s where we turn toward the lake,” she said.

  Josh apparently hadn’t been expecting the turn. He wrenched the wheel, making her slide across the slick leather seat toward him. She couldn’t help admiring his smooth mastery of the car, his confidence and control.

  “Sorry about that,” he said in a tone of apology.

  “That’s okay. I should have warned you the turn was coming up.” She straightened, but before she righted herself, her hand grazed his thigh, earning her a quick but searching glance. Had her touch been intentional? No more intentional than his sharp turn, but it occurred to her that perhaps the turn had not had to be so sharp after all. She supposed she wouldn’t put it past Josh to jolt her closer to him on purpose, and she was amazed to discover that she didn’t mind.

  “How far until we get to the picnic place?” he asked.

  “Not long.”

  “The lunch smells wonderful. Your aunt Dede said you love her stuffed grape leaves.”

  “They’re the best. We have a lot of good cooks in our family.” Their talk seemed to concentrate on her family too much. Though Josh always appeared interested, maybe it was time for a different topic. “How are you doing on your article?” she asked.

  “It’s coming along,” he said, but she sensed caution in his tone.

  “That’s good.” They rounded a curve and saw the lake, bright blue and sparkling in the sunshine, straight ahead. “Here we are,” she said.

  Josh pulled the BMW into the shade of a tall pine tree and got out to take the food basket out of the back seat. A couple of picnic tables were situated on the bluff overlooking the water, and Josh had brought a blanket.

  “How about this spot?” he asked when they reached a grassy mound with a panoramic view of the lake and the mountains stretching beyond.

  “Perfect,” Gina said. She spread the blue-and-white checked tablecloth on the table and explored the basket. “Mmm, parsleyed roast chicken,” she said. “And saffron risotto, too. Oh, and chocolate hazelnut cake.”

  Aunt Dede had sent along a fresh baguette, which Gina knew had been baked by her mother, and chèvre mixed with herbs from Gina’s own garden. She had also included a bottle of viognier, Gina’s personal favorite wine, and a small bottle of port to drink with the cake.

  After they ate, they sat on the picnic blanket. Josh lounged back against a nearby oak tree, declaring himself stuffed.

  “I like Lake Berryessa better than those cold lochs we visited in Scotland,” he said idly as he reached for her hand.

  “Well, I’m not going to dare you to wade in the water, if that’s what you’re thinking.” That was what Tahoma had done on the Loch Ness excursion, and the loch had been frigid.

  “She wanted to warm me afterward,” Josh said teasingly.

  “I can’t believe you obliged,” Gina said. But he had. He’d wrapped Tahoma in his arms and she’d kissed him, hard. To his credit, Josh had appeared taken aback, but then he’d let her kiss him again. All of which Gina hadn’t known during the filming of the program but had found out months later. The incident hadn’t enhanced her opinion of Josh Corbett—or of Tahoma.

  “You don’t like her much, do you?” A bold question on his part, unexpected.

  Gina shrugged. She couldn’t explain her feelings about Tahoma. She only knew that she hated visualizing the woman in Josh’s arms. She realized suddenly that his arms would most likely be around some other woman after the bachelor auction. Someone of her acquaintance, perhaps even someone related to her.

  Something squeezed around her heart. She didn’t want Josh to be with any other woman. Not now. Not ever. Yet there wasn’t much she could do to stop him, if that was his wish.

  He got up and brought the bottle of port over to the blanket, along with her glass. “Here,” he said. “You might as well finish this off.” He poured some into her glass and handed it to her.

  “Aren’t you having any?”

  “No, I’ve had enough. I’m driving.”

  She sipped her wine, wanting to stay more in the present and stop thinking about their past. They were having a good time now, weren’t they? She was learning to trust him, wasn’t she? So why did she keep bringing up Tahoma and the Mr. Moneybags show and all the glitches that could scuttle their present happiness?

  She spilled her wine on the blanket. “Oops, I didn’t mean to do that,” she said as Josh reached for a napkin.

  “No harm done,” he said.

  Gina set her glass aside. She hated it that she was so clumsy, both physically and emotionally.

  “Is something wrong?” Josh asked, furrowing his brow.

  “I—I have the feeling that I’m not doing anything right,” Gina blurted. “I’m not careful enough, or I’m too careful, or I say things I shouldn’t.”

  He gazed at her blankly for a moment. “Gina, what on earth are you talking about?”

  Her words came out in a rush. “Only that I may be the stupidest woman on the planet. Is that a word, stupidest? You’re a writer. You should know.”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. To me, you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet. And I think I want to kiss you, but I’m in the same situation as you think you are. I’ve been the stupidest man in the whole universe, and I may have handled this all wrong, too.”

  “You seem to know exactly what you’re about,” she said, her voice low and troubled.

  Josh stared off toward the edge of the lake, where the long grass swayed softly in the breeze. When his gaze finally met hers, his pupils were large and his eyes were kind and caring. His voice was a rumble in his throat. “I’m not sure that’s true, but I know what I want to do right now, Gina Angelini. I want to kiss you so much I can hardly stand it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Before she could speak, his head dipped and his lips touched hers. Lightly at first, then more surely. His hands came up to grip her shoulders, pulling her toward him and then sliding around to hold her close. He sensed the tension in her, the excitement, the urgency. What he felt bordered on desperation, because he had never waited with more patience for any woman. With anyone else, he would have been on his merry way long before now, but this was Gina. Gina Angelini, the most important woman in the world to him. Even as his hands came up to loosen the clip that held her hair, he marveled that he felt this way about her. In those moments, she might have been the first woman he ever kissed. Everything felt new and strange and wonderful, and the woman in his arms returned his kisses passionately.

  His hands slid under her sweater, explored the ripple of her ribs, encountered lace, cupped the breasts contained within. They swelled to fit his hand, he could have sworn they did, the nipples little nubs beneath his seeking fingers. His breath came harder, hotter, and she stirred within his embrace.

  “Josh,” she breathed close to his cheek. “Oh, Josh.”

  His translation: she was into this as much as he was, and he was in it with his whole heart, his whole being. His whole life.

  Could this be true? The idea gave him pause, and he tried as hard as he could to strike some clarity of thought. Even though he had come to Rio Robles on business, finding Gina had been in the back of his mind, and he had wondered if going out with her was possible after all that had gone on before. But what if something more was po
ssible? A life together? Marriage?

  It seemed like a wonderful idea at this moment, with Gina in his arms. And at the same time, it seemed like a very bad idea indeed.

  He didn’t want to toy with her. He wouldn’t be able to face Rocco or any of her other family members if he did. He was trying to figure out some way of communicating his concern, when a large and wet Labrador retriever galloped up from the lake and shook himself only a foot or two away so that water sprayed all over them.

  “Durango!” called a stern male voice. “Come back here!”

  The dog blinked uncertainly at Gina and Josh, his tongue lolling.

  Gina bolted upright, unsuccessfully trying to smooth her clothes. “He must have smelled the food,” she said, brushing at the damp drops on her forearm.

  Josh inserted a wide space between them as a middle-aged man holding a stick in his hand puffed his way up the path from the lake.

  “Sorry, folks,” he said. “Durango and I were playing down by the water, and he decided to run up and investigate.”

  “No problem,” Josh said. He had taken the brunt of the deluge, and he wiped his face with his napkin.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s go chase the stick.”

  The dog circled the blanket, then followed his owner down the path.

  Josh grinned at Gina. “I don’t suppose you planned that interruption, did you?” he asked.

  “No, but I have it on good authority that Durango is related to the Angelinis in some way, though I’ve never seen him or his owner before in my life. Only an Angelini could come up with such a well-timed intervention.”

  “I heard that necessity was the mother of intervention,” Josh said with a straight face. He began to gather up the food and pile it in the picnic basket.

  “I think you mean invention,” Gina retorted.