Seductive One

16

Brenna sipped her double mocha latte as she exited the Starbucks and crossed to the tables and chairs set up along the wide sidewalk. She chose a seat in the shade.

The midafternoon was quiet, with few people around. Warm temperatures and a light breeze made her feel sleepy, so the coffee would provide a much-needed jolt.

September had come to an end. Harvest was finished, and all across the valley, wine makers were taking a moment to draw a breath. There were the usual tasks to tidy up at the end of the season, barrel orders to be placed for the following year, discussions about more plantings, what vines to rip up, and how everyone expected the wines to be when the first barrels were opened and tasted.

Every so often Brenna wished she’d picked another line of work, but not today. Today her world was exactly right. All of her wine was in place, and the future of Four Sisters Winery was in the hands of yeast microbes and fate. And at Marcelli, well, life was good. Even her grandfather couldn’t destroy her good mood. No matter how much he disagreed with her, argued his points, and ignored her advice, the truth was he had no one interested in the winery but her. Not her sisters and not Joe.

“Someone should nominate him for sainthood,” she murmured to herself as she set her coffee on a small round table and took a seat. He’d turned down the chance to be a part of the family business, leaving her free to take over.

Assuming her grandfather didn’t up and sell.

“Don’t go there,” she told herself. “Not today.” Not when the sun was shining and the air was warm and everything was as it should be.

She’d weathered the latest storm and she’d survived. She would get through the next one and the next one. Some she would endure with grace and style, and some she would simply endure. But that was okay. She’d moved on.

Look at how far she’d come. A year ago she’d been working two jobs she hated, while going through the motions of having a marriage with a man she’d never truly been in love with. How sad was that? Now she was happy, living her dream, and starting her own business. She had-

Brenna sat up straight, then tried to calculate the date. It was the beginning of October.

“Well, hell,” she said as she picked up her coffee and took a sip. Her divorce had become final and she hadn’t even noticed.

Now that she thought about it, she remembered receiving a thick, legal-size envelope sometime in the past couple of weeks. But between harvest and arguing with her grandfather and Nic and Joe and everything else going on, she’d tossed it onto a shelf in her bedroom and had never given it another thought. No doubt the final papers were inside. She was a free woman. Even better, Jeff would be sending her a fat check every month for three years to pay her back for putting him through medical school and supporting him during his internship and residency.

While she wasn’t going to be wealthy by anyone’s standards, she was about to have a cash flow that set her heart to fluttering. So the five-thousand-dollar-a-month question was what did she do with it? Use it to make payments on her loan? Save it? Get a new car?

She eyed her battered Camry parked on the street and figured she probably needed to pay for a tune-up and some tires, but other than that, it should last her a few more years.

A sound caught her attention. A familiar sound that got louder. The way her heart had fluttered at the thought of money was nothing when compared with the kickboxing style workout it was getting now. Brenna rose and shaded her eyes as she looked down the street. Sure enough, a good-looking guy on a motorcycle was headed in this direction.

What was it about a man in a leather jacket? She was too young to remember James Dean, yet that’s instantly who she thought of as Nic pulled up in front of her car. He cut the engine and turned toward her.

Neither of them spoke. They hadn’t seen each other since “the night,” so this moment was supposed to be awkward. She probably should have wanted to bolt. Instead she found herself smiling.

A helmet covered his hair and dark glasses shaded his eyes. She didn’t know what he was thinking, which was probably for the best. She didn’t know what she was thinking, either. The situation with Nic was more complicated than ever, thanks to what had happened a week before. Intellectually she knew that making love with him had been foolish. Emotionally she’d never felt happier about anything. No doubt the differing sides of her brain were at war, meaning she should probably schedule some quality time with her sister, the psychologist. Or at the very least visit her doctor and find out if the pharmaceutical community had a pill or two to help her out. Instead she sipped her coffee.

Nic pulled off his glasses. “You look like a woman with a lot on her mind.”

“I am.”

“I know how to help.”

He reached behind for the spare helmet fastened to the seat. After pulling it free, he held it out to her.

Brenna didn’t hesitate. If she was going to celebrate the joy that was her life, she knew no better place than on the back of a motorcycle. She tossed her coffee in the trash and crossed the sidewalk. After securing the helmet, she climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Go fast,” she told him with a laugh.

He grinned and nodded.

While he drove out of town at the speed limit, as soon as they hit the freeway, he accelerated the bike until Brenna felt as if they were flying. Cool air blew in her face. The heat of Nic’s body kept her warm, while her thighs hugging his reminded her of other rides on other sunny days.

They drove north out of Santa Barbara, past the small towns that lined the freeway until they reached a deserted stretch of beach. Nic took the next exit. He pulled up beside the sand and cut the engine.

Brenna climbed off first. She set her helmet back on the seat and smoothed her hair. Nic took off his headgear and shrugged out of his jacket. By silent agreement they turned toward the water.

They walked side by side along the firm, damp sand. The tide was out and seagulls floated overhead, allowing the breeze to carry them back and forth with no effort on their part. She inhaled the scent of salt water and brine. A few clouds hurried across the blue sky.

Occasionally their shoulders bumped. After a few minutes Nic took her hand in his.

They were out of time, Brenna decided. This wasn’t now, wasn’t then; the moment simply existed with no expectation, no pressure. She raised her face to the sun. If only they could stay like this forever.

A seagull flew down in front of them and pecked at the sand. As they approached, the large bird flapped its wings and ran a few feet up the beach.

“Max would enjoy this,” she said, breaking the silence.

“He’s not a motorcycle kind of dog.”

“Good point.”

Nic stopped and pulled Brenna toward him. As she stepped into his embrace, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her so she stood with her back to him. He moved close behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She settled her hands on top of his.

They faced the ocean, staring out to the line of the horizon.

“Do you ever want to sail to the edge there and see what’s beyond it?” she asked.

“If you head south and west, you’ll hit Hawaii.”

“Works for me.”

Days lolling on a white, sandy beach. A cabana boy to bring her drinks with umbrellas.

“Your brother came to see me.”

Nic’s words were so at odds with her thoughts that at first she didn’t know what he meant.

“Joe’s gone. He went back to the base.”

He pressed his cheek against her hair. “I know. He stopped by on his way out of town.”

She tried to turn to look at him, but his arms held her in place. “Why?”

“To warn me off. He said if I did anything to hurt you, he would have my head on a platter.”

She was stunned. “He did not.”

“He told me that he had special training he was very willing to use and that he wanted to make sure nothing happened to you.”

“I-He-” She closed her mouth, opened it, then closed it again. “No way.”

“I’m not making this up.”

She didn’t know what to think. Joe? Threatening Nic? How like a guy. She turned in his embrace.

“That’s not all he did,” she told him happily. “He turned down the winery.”

“I’d wondered about that.”

“It’s true. My grandfather grumbled about it for an entire day. Joe figured out no one was going to write him a check for what the winery was worth and that it was more than likely that our grandfather would tie things up such that he couldn’t sell it and walk away. Joe said there were too many strings attached.”

Even three days after her brother had left, Brenna still had trouble believing it all herself.

Nic touched her face. “So it’s all yours now.”

“I hope so. I guess he could still sell, but I’m not going to think about it. For right now, my life is pretty damned perfect, and after all the crap I’ve been through, I intend to enjoy it.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah. Good for me.”

She turned so she once again faced the ocean. Nic held her close, her back nestling into his chest. This felt right in so many ways.

“Is Joe going to come back?” Nic asked.

“I think so. We were more than he could deal with the first time out, but I doubt he’ll get away for long. I spoke to Mom, and she said Joe promised to stay in touch. She and my dad are going down to visit him next month. I think the Marcelli family is a lot easier to take in small doses.”

Nic didn’t say anything. Brenna thought about asking what he was thinking, but then decided she didn’t want to know. This moment was perfect and she didn’t want it ruined by anything. Not the present, the future, and certainly not the past.

Although there was plenty there to mess things up. So many mistakes. So much pain.

With the clarity of hindsight, she knew she’d made a huge mistake in not marrying Nic all those years ago. She should have defied her family and run away with him and the consequences be damned. When his grandfather threw him out, they could have gone to France together.

Instead she’d been afraid and Nic had lost everything.

Did getting Wild Sea back make up for it? she wondered. Not that she was going to ask. If the answer was no, she would feel guilty and more than a little ashamed for her part it in. Nic had been treated badly by the people who were supposed to love him.

His parents. His grandfather. Her.

Had anyone he’d ever loved not betrayed him?

Regret filled her. Regret for her part in his pain and regret for the little boy who had been left alone.

She wanted to say something, but what? She wanted-

He turned her toward him and kissed her. The soft pressure of his mouth made her eyes sink closed and her arms circle around his neck.

Yes, she thought hazily, parting her lips. This was what she wanted. This was what felt right. Being here with him on a sunny fall day when the air was sweet with possibilities.

He broke the kiss and looked at her. As she stared into his dark eyes, she saw down to the very essence of the man who had been so much a part of her life. She touched his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s never go back,” she whispered. “We could stay here forever.”

“What happens when the tide comes in?”

“Details.”

“I’m tempted.”

She wanted him to be more than that. She wanted him to be-

In love with her.

The truth crashed into Brenna like one of the waves slapping onto the sand. She wanted Nic to remember how good they had been together and know they could have all that again, plus the wisdom that comes with maturity. She wanted him to sweep her up in his arms and confess that he’d never stopped loving her, thinking about her, needing her, because-her breath caught-it was more than possible she’d never stopped loving him.

“Brenna? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said automatically. “You’re right. We’d better head back.”

She led the way to the motorcycle and slipped on her helmet. But her mind wasn’t on the task. Instead she couldn’t stop wondering if it was really true. Had she spent the past ten years living a lie? Had she really never stopped loving Nic or had she been foolish enough to fall in love with him all over again?

Lorenzo walked into the small restaurant a little before ten in the morning. He knew the names and reputations of the men who wanted to meet with him, if not their faces. He even knew what they wanted.

A young man looked up from setting the two dozen or so tables in the main room. “We’re not open, sir.”

“I’m Lorenzo Marcelli. There is to be a meeting.”

“Oh. Yes, sir.” The young man straightened. “Right this way.”

He led Lorenzo into a back room filled with a long table. There weren’t any place settings here. Only pads of paper and a pot of coffee along with a few cups. Two men stood as he entered.

“Mr. Marcelli, thank you for coming. I’m Bill Freeman and this is my associate, Roger White. Please, have a seat.”

Lorenzo sat down heavily on one side of the table while the two men settled across from him. He knew what they were after, and while he wanted them to come to the point, he waited while they poured him water and offered coffee, which he declined.

“As you may have guessed, we’re very interested in your winery,” Bill Freeman said.

“I have little else that would interest men like you,” Lorenzo said. “I’m an old man. I don’t think you want to offer me a job with one of your companies.”

The two men chuckled. “Would you take one?” Bill asked.

Lorenzo shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Then we’re left with Marcelli Wines.”

He detailed the long history of the company, as if Lorenzo hadn’t lived it all himself. He was polite, well informed, and when he started talking numbers, even Lorenzo was impressed by the bottom line.

The words flowed on and on. Employees would be guaranteed their jobs for at least two years. His family would never want for anything. The family house was not to be touched, and he was welcome to retain a few acres around the house for his private use.

What would his father think of all this? Lorenzo wondered, then smiled faintly. Antonio would raise his fist to the heavens, then turn it toward the men. Never would a Marcelli sell.

But that was a long time ago. Much had changed. Once he had believed he would create a dynasty of fine sons to inherit. Marco was a good man, but there had been no other children, and no male grandchildren. Tessa always whispered it was because God punished Lorenzo for his arrogance in forcing Marco and Colleen to give up their baby. For many years Lorenzo had refused to believe, but now he was not so sure.

So these men, these strangers, offered him more money than he had ever imagined in exchange for Marcelli Wines. Which made him wonder why.

He listened as they continued to talk, all the while questioning what lay behind the words. These two were not interested in wine. They represented a soulless corporation. Wine making was an art. It got into the blood. So who was behind this? Who really wanted to buy the company?

When they had finished, he rose to his feet. “I will consider the offer,” he said. “Then I will be in touch.”

He left the way he’d come-alone and feeling very old.

Brenna looked over the new designs for the Chardonnay labels and had a feeling her grandfather wasn’t going to like these any better than the last ones. Still, it was her job to show them to him and then stand back to absorb whatever joy he might want to send her way. Besides, after her motorcycle ride with Nic the previous day there was virtually nothing that could upset her.

Humming “I’m a Little Teapot,” she left her office and walked down the corridor into his. The door was open and she entered without knocking.

“Hey, Grandpa,” she said, doing her best to sound upbeat and cheerful. Actually it wasn’t much of a stretch. “I have the new wine labels. You’re going to love them.”

Her grandfather’s response was a grunt. Not a very promising start, but she was determined to look on the bright side of things. She set the large pages in front of him.

“I explained what you liked and didn’t like about their previous work,” she said. “They went from there.”

“I don’t remember saying I liked anything,” he grumbled as he flipped through the designs.

Brenna ignored him and perched on the edge of his desk, which she knew he hated. “You adored at least two of them,” she said, carefully crossing her fingers behind her back to negate the potential cosmic effects of the lie.

He grunted again.

She grinned, then noticed how he was dressed. While her grandfather usually wore a long-sleeved shirt and the old man equivalent of Dockers, today he was in a suit and tie.

“Don’t you look spiffy,” she said. “What’s the special occasion? Did you and Grandma Tessa sneak away for a romantic lunch?”

“You’re in a good mood,” he complained.

“Actually it’s just my naturally sunny nature coming through. So did you go to lunch?”

“No. I met with some businessmen. They wanted to talk about buying the winery.”

It was like being by the ocean again. Brenna heard the sound of rushing water. The noise filled her head until it seemed to surround her. She was drowning. That had to be what was wrong.

The temperature in the room dropped to near freezing. She felt cold, then numb, then very, very sick.

No. No, this wasn’t happening. Selling? He couldn’t. She’d just survived the Joe crisis. This could not be happening.

She closed her eyes and accepted the truth. The winery was his. He could do whatever the hell he wanted.

She sucked in a breath, then pushed to her feet. Somehow she got out of the office, then she was running and running. Through the rows of bare vines, up over the slight hill at the edge of their property and across the fence lines. She ran until the pain in her side forced her to walk, and still she kept going. Her eyes burned from her tears, her chest ached. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but keep moving.

Some time later she saw a group of buildings and she headed for them. A voice in her head kept screaming “No!” as if by sheer force of will, she could make it not be true. She choked on her sobs. The unfairness of it all, the futility of her hopes and dreams, filled her with pain.

When she reached the building, she pushed through the unlocked door and into the office. It was the middle of the day, and several of the office staff were at their desks.

She felt their curious looks, heard the whispered questions. Should they stop her? Who was she? She ignored them all. Instead she walked faster until she reached the one door she sought and jerked it open.

Nic was on the phone. He looked up when she entered. His expression tightened with surprise.

“I’ll have to call you back,” he said and hung up. He was already on his feet.

“What happened?” he asked. “Are you okay? Was there an accident?”

She shook her head, but couldn’t catch her breath enough to speak. Tears poured down her cheeks.

He put an arm around her and helped her out of his office. They left the office building and headed for the house.

When she was settled on the living room sofa, with a glass of brandy, Nic crouched in front of her and took her free hand in his.

“What’s wrong?”

Her throat was so tight, she didn’t think it would be possible to speak, yet she did her best to force out the words.

“My grandfather is going to sell the winery.”

Nic had expected her to say that someone was dead. Maybe Joe or one of her grandmothers. Wide-eyed and shaking, Brenna looked as if she’d barely survived a car crash. He’d been so concerned about her, he’d momentarily forgotten about the meeting that morning.

“You don’t know for sure,” he told her.

She gave a strangled cry and tightened her grip on his hand. “He said he met with some men. He was all dressed up in a suit. Why would he have bothered if he wasn’t serious?” She gasped. “Joe. Joe told him that he wasn’t interested in the winery. He said if he inherited, he would just give it to me. That’s why my grandfather is doing this. Without Joe, there’s no male heir. He doesn’t have a choice.”

She was shaking so badly some of the brandy spilled on the floor. Nic grabbed the glass and set it on the end table, then sat next to her and pulled her close.

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “You’ll see.”

“No,” she whispered. “It isn’t.”

She buried her face in his chest. Nic stroked her hair and rocked her back and forth. But even though his actions were gentle, his mind was racing. Was Brenna right? Would Lorenzo sell? As much as Nic had hoped and planned, he’d never been sure the old man would take the bait. Was everything he’d worked for finally within his grasp?

“Brenna,” he began, not sure what he was going to say. The truth? A part of the truth?

She raised her head. Pain filled her eyes. “It’s all going to change. Mia already figured that out. She had the four of us go to lunch because nothing was ever going to be the same again. We’re all changing. I’m going to lose the winery.”

Tell her now, he thought. Tell her the truth.

She sighed. “Oh, Nic, what would I have done without you? When I came to you for the loan, I really wanted to start my own label, but I don’t think I actually believed I would need to. I think deep inside I believed I would inherit. I figured he would make the four of us equal owners and that I would run things. I started Four Sisters to hedge my bets.” She blinked back tears. “Now that’s all I have. And it’s because of you. You were so generous and willing to take a chance on me. I really appreciate that.”

He was slime. “Brenna, it wasn’t like that.”

She gave a shaky smile. “It was exactly like that. Ten years ago I treated you horribly. I loved you, but I wasn’t willing to defy my family. But you forgave me.”

He didn’t know where she was going with this, but he had to stop her now before she said something they would both regret.

“You’re upset,” he told her. “You need to recover from the shock.”

“Do I? Or has the shock given me the courage to say what needs saying?” She leaned forward and kissed him. “I’ve always regretted not marrying you. I tried to love Jeff, but I couldn’t. That’s why I gave my life away-I felt guilty. I devoted my time to him because I couldn’t give him my heart. It belonged to you. It still does.”

This was not happening. Nic stood and paced to the window. He spun back to Brenna.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

She shrugged. “I think I’ve always had lousy timing. This only proves it, huh?” She rose. “It’s okay, Nic. You don’t have to say anything back. I’m not expecting a declaration of your undying love and a proposal or anything.” She paused. “Well, it would be nice, but I understand a lot of things have changed. You may not feel the same way. I just wanted you to know. I still love you. I guess that gives you a win in all this.”

A win? The irony should have made him laugh, but instead he wanted to stop time and figure out how this had all gotten so screwed up. Brenna wasn’t supposed to love him. Not now. Not like this.

Not after what he’d done.

“Brenna, you don’t understand,” he said.

“Are you guys in here? Nic? Brenna?”

He swore in frustration.

“Mia?” Brenna called. “Is that you?”

Mia burst into the living room. “Brenna, are you okay? I saw you running through the vineyards. I thought maybe you’d finally gone over the deep end. I figured you’d come here, so I drove over. I went to the office first, but they told me you were in here.” She waved her right hand and he recognized his grandmother’s diary. “You’ll never guess what I found.”

Nic clenched his hands into fists. “Mia, this isn’t a really good time. Your sister and I-”

“Trust me, you’re gonna want to hear this. See, I’ve been translating the diary. When I got into it, I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I didn’t want to say anything until I reached the end. I wanted to be sure.”

Nic wanted to grab Mia by her shirt collar and propel her from the room. He needed time with Brenna to figure out what he was going to say to her. How he was going to explain the truth? But Mia wasn’t interested in anything but her news.

“It’s so amazing,” she said gleefully. She looked at Nic. “Hang on to to your privates, Nic. Grandpa Lorenzo was right all along. Salvatore Giovanni really did poison the Marcelli vines all those years ago-and you’ll never guess why.”