Brenna chuckled. “Does Nic know?”
“Yes, and it really bugs him. He tried to teach me about different wines once, but I kept nodding off during his explanations.” She pointed at one of the vats. “Which explains why I have to ask what you’re doing in there.”
“Making Chardonnay,” Brenna said. “I’m fermenting a portion in oak and the rest in stainless steel. The stainless allows for easier temperature control. Barrel fermenting is more expensive, but it allows me to—”
She broke off and shrugged. “Sorry. I get a little carried away.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m impressed by your enthusiasm.”
“This is important to me. I’ve wanted the chance to run things my way, and now I finally have it. I plan to take all the credit, but I’m also putting myself on the line to take all of the blame if things go wrong.”
“Could they?” Maggie asked.
“Sure. Wine making is as much art as it is science. I pay attention to both.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Maggie asked.
“Most do. But once a winery gets big, it’s difficult to be intimately involved in every step. That isn’t going to happen here.”
Brenna stopped again and sighed. “I did it again.”
Maggie shook her head. “I can see your determination in your eyes. The only thing I’ve ever felt so passionately about is my daughter.” She laughed. “That sounds horrible. I love my husband completely. He’s wonderful, but it’s not the same as loving my child. Does that make sense?”
“Sure.”
Maggie glanced at her watch. “Speaking of Annie, I have to head home so I can spend the evening with her. Daddy has to work late, so it’s girls’ night at home.” She held out her hand. “It was great to meet you, Brenna.”
“Likewise,” Brenna said, shaking hands.
She watched Maggie leave. What on earth had that been about? If she didn’t know better, she would say that Nic’s CFO had been checking her out. But why? He’d already given her the loan. Maggie couldn’t stop what had already happened.
“Not that it matters,” she told herself. But it was curious.
Was it wrong to love a grape? Brenna hoped not, because she had a serious case of hero worship for her Pinots.
She stood just off a gravel road, on the edge of her perfectly wonderful four acres. To the west stretched the Pacific Ocean for as far as the eye could see. To the east were the foothills, and tucked in between was paradise.
She knew there were those who thought that land this incredible would be wasted on something like grapes when dozens of million-dollar homes could have been built here, but Brenna considered those kind of people not only shortsighted but lacking a soul.
She crouched down by a mature vine and studied the well-shaped clusters.
Did it get any better than this? The grapes had ripened evenly. They were plump and rich in color. She could smell the promise of their flavor, and when she picked a single grape and bit into it, she actually moaned. Another day, maybe two, and then they would be ready to pick. She was going to kick butt with this harvest.
As she stood, she heard something in the distance. She recognized the rumble of a motorcycle, but even as her body went on alert and her thighs heated, she told herself that hundreds of people rode motorcycles on this narrow coastal road and that she was a fool if she allowed herself to think it might be Nic. It was the middle of harvest, for heaven’s sake. The man had better things to do than ride up like some leather-clad sex god just to jump-start her motor.
Unfortunately the thought of him got her heart pounding the way it did those rare afternoons she dragged her ample backside to aerobics class. Did that mean being around him constituted an actual workout? Could she start the next exercise craze? The Nic Giovanni workout plan? Think about sex with Nic for twenty minutes a day and lose ten pounds a month? If only. All she got from thinking about Nic was unbearably horny.
She told herself to stop staring at the road and pay attention to the grapes she’d come to admire, but she couldn’t make herself turn away until she’d actually watched the non-Nic person ride by. Maybe she would even wave.
The motorcycle rounded the bend and she was able to see the driver. The helmet did nothing to disguise the rider’s familiar features. Okay, so it was Nic. That didn’t mean he was going to stop…did it?
Before she could decide, he pulled up behind her car and turned off the engine. The sound of the waves was audible again, along with the call of the seagulls. Brenna told herself that she should take this opportunity to be one with nature. Instead she watched as he took off his helmet. Sunlight brought out the brown highlights in his dark hair and emphasized his tanned arms. He looked as if he’d walked out of a movie poster for a 1950s bad-boy movie. White T-shirt, black jeans, motorcycle boots. Where was a poodle skirt when you needed one?
“I had a feeling you’d be here,” he said as he set his helmet on the seat and started toward her. “Escrow closed today and I knew you couldn’t resist gloating over your purchase.”
He’d come looking for her? Wow.
“I’ll admit to having a moment or two with my grapes,” she said.
“How are they?”
She waved out a hand. “Take a look. You’ll kick yourself for thinking the lot was too small to bother with.”
He raised his eyebrows, then turned his attention to the tidy rows of grapevines. He walked in a couple of paces, then crouched to examine the grapes.
It was close to sunset. Rather than stare at Nic, or his spectacular behind, she turned her attention to the western horizon, where the sun sank toward the edge of the sea. Already the heat of the day had faded from this patch of land.
“Not bad,” Nic admitted when he walked over to stand next to her. “They’re nearly ripe.”
“You forgot perfect. Did you see the color? How plump they are?”
“You got lucky. I don’t understand why they sold this land to you for pennies when they could have gotten millions from a developer.”
Brenna hadn’t paid pennies; buying these four acres had taken a chunk of her loan, but she also knew that she’d gotten an amazing deal.
“It’s about the wine. They didn’t want this land to become another exclusive development community. I had to promise to only grow grapes on this land for at least ten years.”
He stared at her. “You’re kidding. You had to promise?”
She nodded.
“Is it in writing.”
“No, and it doesn’t have to be. I’ll keep my word. They understood what I was trying to do.”
“They’re idiots.”
“No, they’re committed.”
“If they’re not, they should be.”
Brenna tried not to smile, but she couldn’t help grinning. “You’re such a businessman. Pragmatic, unfeeling, only interested in the bottom line.”
“Yeah, right. And you’re the wine-making genius.”
“Thank you.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“I prefer to pretend you were serious and offering me a compliment.”
“Figures.”
Nic watched the breeze tug at Brenna’s hair. The shoulder-length style was different from the waist-length hair she’d had as a teenager. While he liked them both, the longer hair was more erotic. There had been plenty of times when he’d felt the silky ends trailing down his belly as she’d—
He consciously slammed the door to that particular memory. Instead he searched for a distraction. When he found it, he had a hard time keeping his face straight as he anticipated the explosion.
“Too bad the rows are so close together,” he said casually. “If they were farther apart, you wouldn’t have to pick the grapes by hand.”
As he expected, Brenna turned on him with all the intensity of a mama bear protecting her only cub.
“There is absolutely no way in hell I would let a machine on this land. I know you’re in favor of anything that saves money, but I’m more interested in getting it right than getting it cheap.”
Her eyes flashed fire as she spoke. She planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him as if he’d just spit on her shoes. She was insulted, ill-tempered, and more than ready to take him on. Damn if she didn’t look sexy as hell.
The more she glared, the more his blood heated. He thought about pulling her close and kissing her, but the last time he’d done that, he hadn’t been able to sleep for two days. The wanting had been relentless. Worse, it had been specific. He hadn’t been interested in finding someone else to scratch his itch. For reasons he didn’t understand, the need had only been about Brenna, not just about getting laid.
“How are you going to get them picked in time?” he asked. “You haven’t had time to line up a crew.”
“I’m calling in a few favors. I’ll do some of the work myself. It will get done.”
He didn’t doubt that. Brenna was nothing if not determined.
Some of the annoyance faded from her expression. She dropped her hands to her sides and tilted her head. “Guess who I met the other day?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Your CFO.”
“How’d you run into Maggie?”
“She ran into me. She said she wanted to put a face to the name.”
So Maggie had kept her word about meeting Brenna. Had she gotten her questions answered? “Maggie was impressed by the amount of money I loaned you. I’m not usually such a soft touch.”
“Is that what it’s called?” she asked.
“Do you have any complaints?”
She considered the question. “Can I get back to you on that?”
“Sure.”
He glanced at the setting sun and knew that he should be heading back home. He had books to go over and a meeting with one of his managers. But he found himself reluctant to leave.
“I’m still working on my great-grandmother’s diary,” he said.
“How’s that going?”
“I spend more time looking up words in the dictionary than translating, but I’m making progress.” He glanced at her. “I could have it all wrong, but from what I can figure out, Sophia was in love with Antonio Marcelli.”
Brenna stared at him. “No way.”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought, too, but it’s all there in the diary. There’s some mention of Antonio leaving for America and how much she missed him. He told her he would be back for her and asked her to wait.”
“Did she agree?”
“I think so.”
Brenna frowned. “Then how did she end up married to Salvatore, and why didn’t she marry Antonio and come here with him?”
“He didn’t get back in time. The Marcelli family wasn’t as respected as the Giovanni family, which is why her father was reluctant to let her marry Antonio and go off with him.”
“You’re making that up.”
“Would I lie to you?”
“If you thought it would bug me.”
He chuckled. “All right, but this time I’m not. She waited for Antonio to return for her, but he didn’t. When Salvatore came back, talking about his success and asking for Sophia’s hand in marriage, her father agreed.”
“She wasn’t consulted?”
He shook his head.
Brenna rolled her eyes. “That is just so typical. Let me guess. They got married and Antonio showed up the next day.”
“Just about. She tried to put off the wedding, but her parents wouldn’t let her. The night before her wedding, she vowed to put her love for Antonio behind her and swore she would be a good wife.”
Brenna shook her head. “I never heard about any of this. Do you think Sophia is the reason for the feud? Did the two friends fight about loving her or something?”
