THE STARLIGHT HILL COMPLETE COLLECTION: 1-8

by Bell, Heatherly

  “Mom, this is Brooke Miller.” Billy made the introductions. “We went to school together.”

  Eileen Turlock enveloped her in a sweet mother hug. “Nice to see you.”

  “Okay,” Brooke said, a bit unnerved. She saw Eileen Turlock on occasion around town and at Mom’s farm where Eileen bought organic tomatoes, but they’d never hugged before.

  Eileen Turlock was still attractive for her age, tall with short straight dark hair and gentle green eyes. Billy took after her.

  “We should talk menu sometime,” she directed this comment to Brooke, “but for now Pop has to get home for his afternoon nap which it appears he’s already started. C’mon, Pop, let’s get you home.”

  Brooke followed them up the hill, Billy doing most of the business of getting his grandfather moving, even if Billy grimaced and rubbed his shoulder. Eileen waved goodbye at the top of the hill, slapping Billy’s hand away from Pop.

  When Billy walked back to her, he might have noticed the questioning look in Brooke’s eyes. “My family is a little over protective about the shoulder. I’m not an invalid just because I can’t pitch any more. So why don’t we go back to the house and discuss my offer?”

  Billy led the way and together they wound up back at the balcony, where rolling acres of ripe vines lay out before Brooke, like a magic carpet. A view she could grow accustomed to.

  “What did she mean by talking menu?” Brooke wanted to know how much of a family affair this would be, and how much control would Brooke have as general manager. All of it, she hoped, if this were going to work at all. They both needed this venture to be a success, for different reasons.

  He took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. “I want to improve on the menu.”

  “Sounds great. I have lots of ideas for you, but what does your mother have to do with any of it?”

  “Not much, but could you use her help?” Something unspoken remained in those green eyes, almost pleading, and Brooke’s stomach did a weird somersault.

  “This isn’t going to work if I can’t have control over every aspect. Do you want me to be the general manager or not?”

  “I offered you the job, didn’t I?”

  “That’s not an answer.” Maybe it had been a mistake coming here, even if she did need the generous salary. She turned to go.

  Billy reached for her wrist as she passed him. “Hey. What’s going on here? Why are you being such a pain in the ass?”

  Maybe it was time to put some more cards on the table. “All right, fine. Here’s the thing. Let’s just say George Serrano and I did not part on good terms.”

  Billy nodded, understanding passing in his green haze. “I had a feeling. Creative differences?”

  Creative differences. Yes, it sounded so polite. “Exactly. I’ll be honest with you. I want this place to rise up from the ashes and clobber Serrano’s nose till it’s bloody. And I’m going to need control to take this place in the direction it needs to go to be a success. I want that as much as you and your family do. Maybe more.”

  He laid a hand on the balcony’s stone ledge. “I see. And you don’t think I’m going to let you have control?”

  “Are you?”

  Billy’s eyes shifted, and damned if he didn’t look like he was reconsidering everything. A car door slammed in the distance. He took way too long to answer.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  He leveled her with a look of such intensity that she’d swear her ovaries quivered.

  “You should know that I don’t mind a woman being in the driver’s seat.”

  And why did she now wonder if he meant the job? “Good.” She swallowed.

  “So yeah, I’ll give you control.”

  Brooke took a big breath. “Then I accept your generous offer.”

  Billy grinned. “Should we drink on it? We definitely have quite a selection. You can pick.”

  “All right.” Brooke followed Billy’s back through the large utility kitchen.

  Even more possibilities in here. It occurred to her that Eric might like to work here, and that made her wonder how many of George’s employees she might be able to spirit over. All of them? But that would come later, in good time.

  They continued past the kitchen, their footsteps echoing down the stone steps into the wine cellar. Following Billy, her breath hitched and her palms began to sweat when they were plunged into darkness. She stopped in her tracks. How could she explain this to him without sounding like a fool?

  “Are you coming?” He asked from a few steps below her. “Give me your hand. I don’t want you to fall.”

  Before she could speak, he’d taken hold of her hand. She was walking down the steps into the darkness holding Billy’s strong capable hand. He held hers in a tight grip. Those hands were probably good at so many things…things she should definitely not be thinking about right now.

  Billy flipped on the light switch. Brooke almost had a small orgasm, and shockingly, Billy had nothing to do with it. Rows and rows of wine. She picked up a dusty bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon 1998 and set it back down. They might save that for a special occasion.

  “Do you know how lucky you are?” Brooke eyed Billy. Sometimes she wondered if he had any idea, or if he’d become so accustomed to luck that he expected to see it rise every morning with the sun.

  “Tell me,” Billy said.

  “I had no idea this place was worth this much money.” In this room alone, thousands upon thousands of dollars’ worth of wine which had been kept under the right condition.

  “I paid enough for it.”

  “I think you got your money’s worth, if that helps.” She picked out a Merlot and handed it to him. “I have one more condition for my employment.”

  Might as well move in for the kill. Billy wanted her expertise, which gave her a bargaining position. She had the salary and the benefits. But there was one more thing she wanted, and she might as well go for it.

  His eyes widened. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Go ahead and say it. “I’d like to live in the little house. It used to be where the head farm hand used to live, back in the day.”

  “You want to live there?” Billy’s eyebrows lifted. “It gives new meaning to tiny.”

  As it happened, it looked to be about twice the size of her apartment. Which, of course, Billy hadn’t seen. “Yeah. I don’t need much room. I like to sink my teeth into my work, so to speak. I’m going to live and breathe this place.”

  “Yes, you are.” He grinned.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “It needs to be emptied and cleaned out, but okay,” Billy said. “We can make it a part of your salary.”

  Right. And how would that look? “Absolutely not. I’ll pay rent, of course. Something fair.”

  “Whatever you say.” He lifted a shoulder. “I can have my business manager draw up something.”

  Spoken form the mouth of a multi-millionaire who didn’t need the money.

  Brooke would live here. The land wasn’t hers, no, but she would get to wake up here every morning and … pretend for a little while. And she would work for this winery like it was her own, because in some small way it would be.

  “Now I have a question for you.” Brooke turned to him, and looked him square in the eyes.

  “Go ahead, Ms. General Manager. Ask away. You know you’re going to anyway.”

  “Why me, Billy? Why not go with a general management firm? You said I’m a pain in the ass. And sometimes, you’d be right about that.”

  Billy didn’t speak for a long moment. “You can be. But a long time ago I knew a girl, my friend, who was the only one who didn’t fall for my bullshit. The only one who wouldn’t let me off the hook and tell me it was okay to take the easy way out. Honestly? Except for my family, I’m surrounded by sycophants. But what I need is someone to tell me like it is.”

  “And you know I will.” It was the perfect end to their meeting, and she didn’t want to taint it with any more talking. Sooner
or later he’d say or do something to piss her off. She held out her hand so they could shake on it.

  Billy returned it with the usual man crushing experience, and she tried not to wince. “You can move in as soon as I hire someone to get it cleaned out. Probably next week. I’ll let you know when my business manager draws up the contract. But there’s something else you should know.”

  “Uh, no, Billy. Stop talking. Everything is perfect and I don’t want to ruin it.” She didn’t want to give him a chance to change his mind now. She brushed by him and marched up the steps before he could shut off the light. At the top of the steps she turned and glanced down. “You taste that wine, and let me know what you think of it.”

  “But—”

  She held up a hand. “Not now. Let’s end this on a pleasant note. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “If you say so.” He smiled, showing his rare dimple. It was hard to see along all that scruffiness on his cheeks, but she spied it.

  “I do,” Brooke said, because she would make this work. One way or another.

  6

  A week later, Brooke woke on her first morning in the vineyard’s cottage and stretched. The first thought that came to mind was that she could get used to this kind of quiet. So quiet she might have heard the flapping of a hummingbird’s wings.

  She’d made the right decision. Even if thinking it through had possibly cost her an opportunity to buy the vineyard, making Billy wait had meant she got to call the shots. Now she’d be living at a vineyard, as she’d always dreamed. Maybe not a land owner yet, but who knew? Maybe someday. She had to be patient. Even if she wasn’t good with patience, she’d have to learn.

  She threw off the covers, and put her bare feet on the cold hardwood floor. Thanks to Billy, the place had been cleaned and freshly painted. A very nice shade of copper brown, which added to the rustic sense of the place.

  Nothing about it was new, and happened to be what she loved the most, in addition to the privacy. For the past few years she’d lived with units so close together that she and Mrs. Monroe had to coordinate shower times. And when Officer O’Toole had the early morning shift the following morning, everyone pretty much had to stop talking at eight o’clock in the evening.

  And of course, she’d never dream of stepping outside of her apartment in nothing but the panties and tank top she’d slept in.

  But she was definitely considering it this morning as she waited for the coffee to brew. She reached for a mug from a moving box labeled Kitchen, unwrapped it, and rinsed it out. She poured coffee into the mug, pulled up the blinds and looked out the window into the bright seamless sunshine of the valley.

  She had a great view of the vineyards here. Not quite like the view from the manor balcony, but spectacular regardless.

  Yes, this could work. It would work. She and Billy would keep it professional. Even if they’d been less than that in her dreams last night.

  She’d dreamt of that time, years ago, when he’d kissed her. When he’d then pulled away to stare at her, like he couldn’t believe he’d just done that. She hadn’t believed it, either. Billy and Brooke didn’t hang out in the same crowd. They weren’t dating material. But somehow, when they’d kissed it had been like connecting the dots.

  It was a long time ago, and it hadn’t worked out for many reasons. She’d forgiven him a long time ago for the way he’d let her down. Today, she was an adult who realized that Billy Turlock hadn’t owed her a thing. Not ten years ago, and not now. But they could be friends again, and partners in this endeavor. Not that they were partners. She was his employee.

  And her dreams of Billy? Well, they’d remain in her subconscious where they belonged.

  Brooke grabbed her mug and tiptoed outside to the small porch, feeling decadent. The nippy early October air hardened her nipples, only adding to the thrill. She set her mug down on the rail, rose on her tip toes and stretched in the early morning air. She might start practicing yoga again, out here in the early morning hours. She squeezed her eyes shut, tossed her hair back, and tried not to giggle.

  “It’s official. I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  Billy. What the hell? Brooke turned to find him leaning over the manor balcony, a mug in his hands. Grinning.

  Brooke had too many expletives running through her mind at once, so that when something finally came out of her mouth it sounded like, “Gah!”

  She ran back inside and slammed the door shut. She should have considered he might be an early riser. But why get here so early? All the construction had been done. He could at least have given her a warning that he’d be here.

  Well, they were going to have words. No one saw her in her panties without paying for dinner first. She searched for her fuzzy bathrobe, slipped it on and marched back outside.

  He was still standing where she’d left him. Still smiling, this time biting his lower lip like he wished he could stop. “Sorry.”

  “If you’re going to be here this early, you need to give me some notice.”

  He raised his mug to her. “Brooke? I’m going to be here this early every day.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I live here too. What did you think all that construction was about?”

  She’d had no idea. The manor house had living quarters but no one had lived in them for decades. “You should have told me!”

  “I tried to tell you, remember? You said we’d talk later. It wasn’t a good time.”

  “You should have tried harder,” Brooke said, pulling her robe tighter. “I thought I was alone. I don’t usually parade around outside in my underwear.”

  “That’s a real shame. Don’t worry, I didn’t see much. I’ve grown used to averting my eyes.”

  “I don’t have business meetings in my bathrobe but we need to talk.” With that, she opened the door and slammed it again, probably waking the rest of the wild life.

  Billy again burrowing himself under her skin. It could have been a simple misunderstanding, a joke they’d laugh about later. But somehow the look in Billy’s eyes made her think twice. He wouldn’t soon forget he’d caught her half naked. Her own damn fault.

  The worst thing about it was that she wasn’t even wearing her best panties. Her good fortune today was that she had worn her panties with the kites being flown by kittens. Real sexy, Brooke.

  And then there was her rattiest bathrobe, the one within reach. The one she wore when she didn’t care who saw her. But worse was the fact that she cared. About all of it. Maybe she should be worried about that.

  Brooke hopped in the small shower, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and stuck her blow-dried hair in a ponytail. She didn’t want to wait much longer to talk to Billy and straighten some things out.

  There was a soft knock on her door, so he’d wizened up and come to her. Probably to apologize again. Good.

  When Brooke opened the door, she was surprised to see a middle aged woman in a pin striped suit. She had straight salt and pepper shoulder length hair which flipped at the ends in a classic pageboy-style.

  “Hi, Brooke. I’m Gigi Rosenberg, Billy’s publicist.” She held out her hand, and Brooke took it, moving to allow Gigi inside.

  “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I just moved in.” Brooke waved in the direction of her boxes.

  “I heard. And you didn’t know that Billy would be living in the manor house when you asked to live here?” Her stiletto heels made a clackety sound against the hardwood floor.

  “No idea.” Brooke waited a beat. “Where’s Billy?”

  She didn’t know this woman, and the tone in her voice sounded strangely accusatory. She might be imagining things, though. Billy could, and should be the one to explain to his publicist. This was her cottage now. Billy had said it could be. Brooke didn’t care if Attila the Hun moved in next door. She wasn’t budging.

  “He’s taking a quick shower, so I sneaked out here to talk to you, woman to woman.”

  Uh-oh. Seemed like maybe Gigi might be Billy’s w
oman, and naturally she didn’t appreciate the arrangement. But tough luck, she’d have to live with it. “Look, I don’t have any designs on Billy if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not here to steal your man.”

  Gigi’s eyebrows rose to her forehead and she let out a little cackle. “Is that what you think? How old do you think I am, dear?”

  Brooke hated this game. Mom and all her friends played it with her on different occasions. They claimed their healthy way of living stopped, and at times even reversed, the aging process.

  Brooke erred on the side of caution. “I don’t know, forty?”

  “Fifty-eight!” Gigi announced with a hair flip. “This is what staying out of the sun for twenty years can do for a woman.”

  Damn, she did look good. “Wow. Well, that’s a big age difference, but I’m not here to judge you.”

  Now Gigi looked at her with pity. As if: poor, simple Brooke. “No, no, dear. Billy’s like a son to me. And I look out for him. It happens to be my job too, but naturally I love Billy.”

  “Doesn’t everybody?” Brooke sighed and moved a cardboard box labeled ‘books’ so she could sit on her crowded loveseat.

  “Both his blessing, and his curse.” Gigi nodded, arms folded across her chest.

  Brooke for the life of her couldn’t imagine why everyone in the whole world loving you could be viewed as a curse. “Uh huh.”

  “At least once a year Billy’s had a woman claim they had a love child together. Lies, all of them.” Gigi waved her arms around in the air. “But those DNA tests can be time consuming. If he’d slept with all the women the media claims, not only would he have a bad shoulder, but he’d have no knees left. All of it greatly exaggerated. Don’t you read the sports section?”

  Why did everyone ask her that? “No, but I’m going to start.” It sounded saucier than some of her romance novels.

  “Anyway, it’s my job to keep the baseball groupies away. Women who would love nothing more than to sink their teeth into Turlock, Inc.”

  Brooke would have thought Gigi’s job would be fielding endorsement offers and issuing press releases, but what did Brooke know? “I get it. So you think I’m here to get knocked up and stake my claim? Don’t worry about me. I don’t even like kids.”