Now it was her turn to tease. “So you don’t want to be too close.”
“Best if I’m not. My mother likes to set me up on blind dates. They never go well.”
“So distance is your friend.” Mackenzie looked around. “Speaking of dates, you didn’t bring anyone tonight, did you?”
“No.”
She met his gaze. “At the risk of sounding like your mother, you never bring a date. Why is that?”
“I’m not seeing anyone in particular.”
“Why not? I would think finding women would be easy. You’re a successful, good-looking guy. I would think women would be all over you.”
“Are you flirting with me?”
She laughed. “I think we both know I’m not capable of flirting.” A thought occurred to her. Maybe the problem wasn’t women at all. “Unless you’d rather not date women and you’re concerned we’d have an issue with that. We wouldn’t.”
She paused, not sure how to navigate the socially awkward conversation she’d inadvertently started.
His half smile blossomed. “I’m not gay. I do like women. I’m not seeing anyone seriously because I can’t seem to find someone who interests me enough to make the effort.”
“Have you been married?”
“Yes.”
She stared expectantly. “And?”
“We got a divorce. It was a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “I was at the time. Not anymore.” He looked into her eyes. “I can’t have children. We found out when she couldn’t get pregnant. She didn’t want to deal with that and she left.”
Mackenzie came to a stop. “How could she be so awful? There are other ways to have children.”
“She wasn’t interested in any of them.”
“I’m sorry, Bruno. For prying and for reminding you of a difficult time in your life. I should stick to small talk.”
He pulled her a little closer and spun her. “I don’t mind that you know.”
“Still. I’m sorry.”
“We’ll change the subject. How much does Barbara hate what Four is wearing?”
Mackenzie looked at her sister-in-law. Her flamboyant dress was all bright colors, with an uneven hem and a short sleeve on one arm and a long sleeve on the other.
“I haven’t talked to her about it, but I’m sure it’s not her favorite.”
“Four enjoys tormenting her. If Barbara would stop engaging, Four would stop being so outrageous.”
She turned back to Bruno. “That’s insightful.”
“I’m a good observer.”
“What else have you figured out?”
He looked at her for several seconds. His gaze was so intense, she was sure he was going to say something that would shock her, or maybe just keep her up for three days. Instead he stepped back, squeezed her hand, then released her.
“I should let you get back to your party,” he said. “Have a good night.”
He walked away, leaving her alone in the crowd, uncertain about what had just happened and what it had all meant. If anything.
The party was getting louder as more wine was consumed. Delicious smells from the buffet made her stomach growl. She was just about to grab something to eat when she spotted Rhys talking with a pretty blonde whose name Mackenzie couldn’t remember.
As she watched, the woman reached out and touched Rhys’s forearm. The flirtatiousness was clear, and she waited to see how her husband would respond. He gave the woman a brief smile and took a half step back.
Mackenzie doubted his movements were the least bit planned—no doubt he’d reacted involuntarily. Rhys wasn’t the type who cheated. He was a good man who took his responsibilities, whether to her, his family or the winery, seriously. She could depend on him. She trusted him.
But they hadn’t shared a bedroom in nearly five years, and it had been at least that long since they’d made love. So if he wasn’t sleeping with her, who was he sleeping with? And even as she asked the question, she wondered if she really, truly wanted to know the answer.
* * *
Stephanie Barcellona wanted to state—for the record—that ex-husbands were a very bad idea. Especially good-looking ones with easy smiles and knowing glances. She’d spent the past hour ducking and weaving to avoid Kyle, but no matter how she busied herself with the party, he kept circling closer.
If only her mother hadn’t insisted he be invited. Perhaps more to the point, if only Stephanie had the backbone of a goldfish, she would walk up to him, look him in the eye and say that it was over. O. V. E. R. She was done being his booty call whenever he found himself in Walla Walla with a few hours to spare. They had been divorced over a decade. Nearly twice as long as they’d been married. They needed to be finished with each other for good. Having sex a couple of times a year didn’t help either one of them. Though she was pretty sure it didn’t faze him at all and only she was left feeling like an idiot.
It had been eighteen months since her last, um, encounter with Kyle. She’d gotten through last year’s party and the holidays without giving in to his whispered “Hey, beautiful, let’s go somewhere quiet.” She told herself that if she could stay strong for the rest of the night, she would have broken free of him. She was determined, she had a plan. Unfortunately, she was also horny.
Betrayed by my hormones, she thought glumly as she circulated around the guests, making sure all was well. While she checked the flow of food and double-checked there was plenty of wine at the bar, her girl parts began to ache. Kyle always knew exactly how to make her come in, like, eighteen seconds. Humiliating but true.
She spotted him out of the corner of her eye, headed in her direction, and quickly walked the opposite way. If he got within touching distance, he would do that shoulder-to-wrist strokey thing with his fingers. The one that made her all shivery. Then he would lean in and tell her she had a great ass, because Kyle was just that much of a romantic. Then he would corner her so he could lightly brush against her nipples and she would be lost.
“Not happening,” she breathed. “I can’t do this anymore.”
She continued the duck-and-weave dance, feeling like a character in a very badly written play, when she saw Giorgio nod at her. It was time.
All thoughts of Kyle fled as she checked her pocket for the small cloth bag tucked there, before walking directly to the DJ.
“Stephanie,” Kyle said, his tone low and suggestive, as he closed in behind her.
She didn’t bother looking at him as she said, “Not now.”
When she reached the stage, she smiled at the DJ. “Ready.”
He gradually lowered the volume of the music, then handed her the microphone. All the guests turned toward the small platform.
“If I can have your attention for just another moment,” she said, looking at Giorgio, who appeared incredibly calm, despite the momentousness of the occasion. “A certain gentleman would like to have a word with his very special lady.”
She passed both the microphone and small cloth bag to him, then stepped back into the crowd that had gathered.
Avery, her sixteen-year-old daughter, slid in beside her. “What’s going on?”
“Watch. It’s going to be epic.”
Avery sighed. “Mom, I’ve talked to you about trying to use slang. It’s not a good look.”
“I just do it to annoy you.”
They linked arms and leaned in to each other. Stephanie didn’t care if the word was too young for her. It was perfect—because this was going to be 100 percent epic. She could feel it in her gut.
three
Barbara had no idea what was happening, and she didn’t like that one bit. She looked between Stephanie and Giorgio, hoping they weren’t going to do something ridiculous like sing a duet. Stephanie didn’t have much of a voice.
Still, she
trusted Giorgio. The man took care of her the way no one ever had, so she should just relax and pretend to enjoy whatever silly thing they had planned.
Giorgio smiled at her as he spoke into the microphone. “Hello, my love.”
She smiled back without speaking. He knew she didn’t like to be played for a fool and she trusted him. Whatever misgivings she had, she should ignore.
He glanced at the circle of people around them. “For those of you who don’t know me very well, I met this wonderful woman two years ago, in Italy. We were tasting wine at a little place outside of Tuscany. The day was beautiful, but the woman next to me was even more appealing. I found myself unable to look away.”
“You were very charming,” she said, relaxing as he spoke.
“On the outside. On the inside, my heart was beating so quickly. At my age, that can be a dangerous thing.”
Everyone laughed.
“I introduced myself and suggested we share a glass of wine.” He smiled again. “She agreed and I was so happy, I could barely speak. You told me about Bel Après and your children and Mackenzie, and I could hear the love and pride in your voice. Within the hour, I was smitten.”
Barbara felt herself getting lost in the memories of that first meeting. He’d surprised her by talking to her. She hadn’t known what to think. Handsome men simply didn’t ever talk to her—not the way he had. He’d been funny and kind and the afternoon had flown by.
“I was married before,” he said. “My wife passed away five years ago, and it never occurred to me that I would find love again, but I have. A great, glorious love that has filled my heart.”
She placed her hands on her chest and mouthed, “Me, too.”
He handed Stephanie the microphone and took something out of a small bag, then stunned her by dropping to one knee.
“Barbara Barcellona, you are the love of my life. I love you and adore you. I want to make you happy, and spend the rest of my days with you. Will you marry me?”
She hadn’t seen it coming, she thought, genuinely stunned by the proposal. She stared at Giorgio, trying to take it all in. The sound of the music retreated until she could hear only her own heartbeat.
Happiness swelled, becoming joy, and she knew that she would never again experience a moment so perfect.
“Yes,” she said, fighting tears. “Oh, yes, Giorgio. I’ll marry you.” Around them, everyone began to cheer and applaud.
He stood and slid a large diamond solitaire onto her finger, then cupped her face and kissed her. The feel of his warm lips on hers was magical. She felt like a princess. She felt thirty years younger.
“I love you,” he whispered into her ear.
“I love you, too.”
Around them, the clapping continued. Her children gathered around, hugging her and Giorgio.
“Did you know?” she asked Rhys.
Rhys grinned. “He asked for my permission. It was very honorable of him and I’m happy for you both, Mom.”
“I didn’t know,” Mackenzie said, kissing her cheek. “Barbara, congratulations. You’re going to be a beautiful bride. I know Giorgio will make you so happy.”
Four and Lori rushed in to hug her.
“No one told us,” Four said with a laugh. “What a wonderful surprise.”
“I’m happy for you,” Lori added, sounding slightly less than thrilled.
Barbara supposed the living arrangements would be a problem. Lori had never moved out of the large family home at the center of the compound. It was one thing to have Giorgio staying there when he visited, but another to have him a permanent resident. A problem she would deal with tomorrow, she told herself, determined to enjoy every moment of the very perfect evening.
The music resumed and Giorgio drew her to the dance floor. She laughed when she heard the opening notes of “Lady in Red,” then glanced down at her red cocktail dress.
“So that’s why you asked me to wear this,” she said, gazing up at him.
“It was all part of the plan.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I was surprised.”
“I’m glad. Rhys knew, of course, and Stephanie.”
“They kept the secret.”
“Barbara?”
She looked at him.
“I don’t want you to worry about anything,” he said, his gaze filled with affection. “I’ll be happy to sign a prenuptial agreement. I want no part of Bel Après.”
“You will?”
She hadn’t even thought of a prenup. She would have, probably before midnight, which would have kept her up the rest of the night. “Thank you for that. I’ll sign whatever you want, as well.”
Giorgio had plenty of money from the aerospace manufacturing firm he’d run in upstate New York.
“We’re a very modern couple,” he teased.
She raised herself on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “Yes, and later, we’re going to have lots of modern sex.”
He chuckled. “How is it modern? I think of our lovemaking style as more traditional.”
She grinned. “We keep the lights on.”
“That we do.”
They danced for another three songs before going to get something to drink. Several of the female guests stopped her to admire her ring. Barbara hadn’t had much of a chance to study it herself. She would guess the diamond was at least three carats. A little large and flashy, but she was confident she could carry it off.
Stephanie met them by the bar.
“That was amazing,” she said with a happy sigh. “I’m so thrilled for you both.”
“You did a very nice job,” Barbara told her, doing her best to keep the surprise out of her voice. “The moment was perfect.”
Stephanie hugged her. “Next, the wedding. Let me know if you want my help planning that, Mom. It’s one of my skill sets.”
A wedding? Barbara hadn’t thought that far ahead. Obviously she and Giorgio would have some kind of ceremony. At their age, it made sense to make it small—family and a few close friends.
She immediately recalled her first wedding. She and James had been young and there hadn’t been any money to waste on something as frivolous as a wedding. They’d been married in a small church and the reception had been in the old farmhouse where they’d lived. It hadn’t been the wedding of anyone’s dreams.
She looked at the ring glinting on her left hand, then at the crowd enjoying themselves. She was the matriarch of Bel Après, and the owner of a successful business. Money was no object.
“Giorgio, what do you want for a wedding?”
He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I want whatever makes you happy, my love.”
He was such a good man.
Barbara considered her options. Having the wedding at Bel Après made the most sense. There were spaces for large events. Even though the winery wasn’t gauche enough to pimp itself out as a destination anything, they did host parties for major customers or special occasions. Still, a wedding required planning.
Barbara looked at her oldest daughter. Stephanie managed the retail store and tasting room. She could, in a pinch, manage the wine club, as well, and she planned whatever parties were held on the property, including a handful of weddings. While Stephanie didn’t have anything that could be considered talent, she was organized, and honestly, how hard could it be to plan a wedding?
“All right,” Barbara said. “Stephanie, you can plan my wedding. I want a real one,” she added. “Traditional. Nothing ridiculously modern. I’ll accept fun and elegant and a little over-the-top, but that’s all.”
Stephanie grinned. “We can make that happen. We can even talk about a lot over-the-top.”
Barbara held in a sigh. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now I want to dance with my fiancé.”
She turned to Giorgio and held out he
r hand. He pulled her close, then led her to the dance floor. So much happiness, she thought, leaning against him. The night was perfect, and the rest of her life was going to be just as wonderful.
* * *
Two hours and what Stephanie would guess was half a bottle of wine later, she was still processing what had happened. She was happy—of course she was happy. Giorgio was a wonderful man who adored her mother. There was also the happy side effect of Barbara being just a little easier to deal with when he was around, and who didn’t want that?
She’d known about the engagement. She’d been the keeper of the ring and the decider of the timing. She was excited to be helping her mom plan a wedding. It was all good. Great, even. But—and it was a big but—she couldn’t quite seem to wrap her mind around what she was feeling.
It wasn’t just happy, she thought. It was something else. Something that made her uncomfortable and sad and maybe a few other things she couldn’t or didn’t want to name.
She stood by the bar, working on yet another glass of wine, when the truth hit her, like a sucker punch to the gut. All her air rushed out as she blinked back unexpected tears.
She wanted a different life. Her kids were great and she loved her family, but she wanted more. She wanted a job she loved—she wanted to be excited about how she spent her day, instead of just going through the motions. She wanted to be proud of herself and strong and brave, and that meant she really had to get off her ass and do something. Wishing was a waste of time. She’d spent the past five years talking about leaving Bel Après and going to work somewhere else and she’d done nothing to make that happen.
“Hey, babe.”
The low words were accompanied by a finger sliding from her bare shoulder to her wrist. Stephanie turned and saw Kyle smiling at her.
“Stellar party, as per usual,” he added with a wink.
“You’re still here,” she said, struggling to resurface from her confusing thoughts.
“Sure. I thought maybe we could spend a couple of hours together.”
His tone was suggestive. As if to emphasize the point, he put his hand on the small of her back and then slid it down to cup her butt.
The Vineyard at Painted Moon Page 3
