Seductive One

15

Reality returned in the form of stiff muscles and a growing sense of the cold. Brenna dropped her feet to the stairs and felt the first flicker of second thoughts. Could they really have done this again? She expected Nic to pull away, but he didn’t. Instead he brushed his fingers against her face, as he had when all this had started.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I will be when my heart rate returns to normal. Currently it’s in the active range for a hummingbird.”

“Let’s check out the damage.”

He slid out of her, then pushed to his feet. Brenna tried to straighten her legs, but she wasn’t used to being so pretzellike, and everything hurt.

Nic rubbed the small of his back. “Me, too,” he said. He held out a hand to her.

She took it and let him pull her to a standing position. They both hobbled for a couple of seconds, then Brenna started to laugh.

“We’re so old,” she said. “Ten years ago this was nothing. I can’t even remember all the positions we did it in.”

Nic started to look insulted, then he shook his head and chuckled. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. She snuggled against him. He kissed her forehead.

“Speak for yourself,” he said. “I’m not old.”

“Ha. You’re going to be limping tomorrow because of this.”

He glanced down at her. “So are you and not because your legs are stiff.”

She ignored the flush that heated her cheeks and his satisfied male “I pleased my woman” expression. “Go get my clothes.”

He handed over her bra and panties, then picked up her jeans and shirt. He pulled on his jeans but simply tossed his T-shirt over his shoulder.

They didn’t speak. By mutual agreement they walked out of the building together. She turned off the lights, and he closed the door. After wrapping his arm around her, he led her toward her car.

Once there, he brushed her hair off her face and kissed her. She clung to him as long as she dared, then sighed.

“I should go,” she said.

“Okay.”

She’d half hoped he would ask her to spend the night. A part of her wanted to go to sleep in his arms and then wake up in them. But even as the vision of how they would actually spend their night formed in her head, she knew it wasn’t possible. Her? Here? If her car wasn’t parked by the garage when the Grands woke up, they would call in the FBI.

Her mouth twisted. When exactly was she going to grow up enough not to care what her family thought of what she was doing?

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Just me. I think I need therapy.” She raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him. “I’m saying good night.”

“Me, too.”

She smiled, then got into her car. He stood watching her drive away. As she turned onto the highway, she glanced in the rearview mirror. He was still standing there, as if making sure she was safe. Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?

Lorenzo wrote slowly on the lined yellow pad in front of him. Since turning seventy, he’d endured the steady encroachment of arthritis, first in his knees, then his hips, and now in his hands. Brenna insisted a computer would be easier for him, that tapping the keys would hurt less than writing, but he had yet to find out. Despite the fact that a large, ugly machine had been installed in his office, and that his secretary turned it on for him every morning, Lorenzo hadn’t used it for more than a place to drape his jacket. He ignored the flashing cursor and the occasional clicks and whirs that drifted from the rectangular box on the floor. The new ways were not for him. He was too old to want to change so much.

Tessa, his wife of over fifty years, disagreed. She enjoyed new technology. When Mia was at her language school in Washington, Tessa had e-mailed her every day, then printed out the responses and read them to him before they went to bed.

Women dealt with change better than men, he acknowledged grudgingly. Perhaps because they were born knowing that time was liquid and always moving. They understood that the babies to come from their bodies would eventually grow and leave. Hearts were broken and then mended. For women, the world was shades of gray. Men saw only black and white.

He finished writing and carefully tore off the page. His secretary would type up his letter and send it out, but first she would remind him that even if he didn’t want to use the computer, he could simply dictate into a tape recorder. She would transcribe his words, saving him the pain of carefully forming each word. He did not bother to tell her that he’d used his tiny handheld recorder to prop up an unsteady table and that when Mia had later sat on the table, the small machine had been crushed.

He read over the letter, then dropped it into his out basket. Now that he was finished, he slowly flexed his aching hands, then opened the top drawer and reached for the pain medicine he kept there. At his age, pills were tangible markers of time. Each hour or two meant another medication, another glass of water, another aftertaste left on his tongue. Whenever he complained, Tessa reminded him that the alternative was no pills, no bitter taste, only darkness and the earth reclaiming his body. Then she would pull the rosary from her pocket and take a quick trip around the beads to ward off any inadvertent invitation of death brought on by their conversation.

He smiled at the thought of his wife. He was an old man, and yet he loved her more today than on the day they married. God had blessed him in many ways. His son, his grandchildren, the bounty of the earth.

Lorenzo shook his head. Was his mind to go next? He refused to become maudlin about his good fortunes. Despite his complaints, his doctor assured him he would probably see eighty and beyond. Plenty of time to annoy those he loved most.

A knock on the door to his office distracted him. Lorenzo glanced up. “Come,” he called.

The door opened and Joe entered.

Antonio, Lorenzo thought sadly. That was the name he had picked out for Marco’s firstborn son. There had been so many hopes and plans. So much that went wrong.

“You come to see me,” Lorenzo said, trying not to sound too pleased.

Joe crossed to the chair in front of the desk and pulled it out. He moved like a man used to trouble-carefully and with purpose. Lorenzo liked that. Joe was young and strong, all the things his heir should be.

“I’ve come to say good-bye,” Joe said as he took a seat. “I’ve reached my limit of family bonding.”

Lorenzo frowned. “You cannot go. Your life is here now. With the vines.”

Joe shook his head. “Not my style. I told you, I’m a beer drinker.”

“What about your inheritance? You could have all this.” He spread open his arms. “How can you walk away from what I have to give you?”

Joe chuckled. “Yeah, right. This isn’t a gift. Not any of it. If you were handing me a check, I’d give it some thought, but you want me to buy into what you have here. The whole Marcelli heritage. Sorry, but I’m not in the market for that kind of responsibility.”

“No. You must stay. I insist.”

“It’s not your call.” He leaned toward Lorenzo. “You’re playing some game with everyone, especially Brenna, and I won’t be a part of it.”

“What game? There is no game.” Lorenzo pushed painfully to his feet and walked to the far wall. He motioned for Joe to come with him. When they were standing next to each other, Lorenzo realized the younger man topped him by several inches. That pleased him. Every generation should be bigger, more powerful. It was the way of the world. Strength improved the family.

He pointed to the map on the wall. It was old, dating back to the 1920s, and drawn by hand. It detailed much of the county, oriented so the Marcelli land was in the center.

“From the old days,” he said. “My father, your great-grandfather, drew this himself. This is who we are.” He tapped the yellowing paper. “This is what is important to us.”

Joe studied the map. “Did he do this before the feud?”

“Yes. Many years before. Things were much simpler then.” Friends were friends, he thought. When friends became enemies, the world became a more difficult place.

Lorenzo looked at Joe. Marco’s son. His grandson. A stranger. All those years ago, he’d been so sure he was right. He’d stood against his wife, his son. He’d insisted. Tessa had warned him, but he hadn’t listened. The mistake was his.

“You will stay,” he insisted. “You are family.”

“No, I’m not,” Joe said quietly. “My family is my SEAL team. You folks have been nice and all. I appreciate the hospitality, but it’s time for me to head out.”

Lorenzo wanted to argue the point. He had plans for this young man. He would stay, learn, take the family name. Was it not to be?

He touched Joe’s arm. “It was me,” he told his grandson. “Your grandmother, she wanted to allow Marco to marry, even though he was only a boy. Her parents, they weren’t sure what they wanted, but I’m the one who convinced them. My son, your mother-” He shrugged. “They were in love. They wanted each other and they wanted you. I’m the one who made them send you away. I was wrong. I wanted you to know.”

Joe’s steady gaze never wavered. Lorenzo would have given half the Chardonnay harvest to know what the young man was thinking. But Joe was too wily. He kept his thoughts and feelings to himself.

“None of that matters now,” Joe said. “What’s done is done.”

Perhaps, but Lorenzo wanted to undo it. “If you had grown up here, you would have learned our ways. You would understand about the wine. It would be in your blood. It’s there now, singing to you, if only you will listen.”

“Maybe it would have made a difference,” Joe admitted. “Maybe not. We’ll never know. In the here and now, I’m not interested in the winery. I want you to be clear about that. I don’t want it.”

“Why not? The money-”

“Sure. Like there wouldn’t be strings attached to all of it. I don’t know what you’re up to, old man, but I’m not interested. You’ve tried to use me against Brenna. I don’t know why and I don’t want to know. If you don’t listen and decide to leave all this to me anyway, be warned. I’ll give it to Brenna.”

Lorenzo frowned. “Give it? Not sell it?”

Joe smiled. “No way, old man. I’m not going to be a pawn in whatever game you’re playing.”

Lorenzo raised his eyebrows. “Can you be so sure you haven’t already?”

Joe shook his head. “You’re a slick one, Grandpa. Be careful. If you take this too far, you’ll hurt the ones you love.”

Grandpa. Joe’s casual use of the word tugged at his heart. He held open his arms. His strong grandson stepped close and hugged him.

“You’re a good man,” he said, releasing Joe. “Come to see me again. I will show you that you’re wrong about us not being your family. You belong here.”

“We’ll see.”

Lorenzo reached up and cupped his face. “Your work. I know it is dangerous. Be careful. Now you have a family to come home to.”

Joe didn’t say anything, but Lorenzo thought he understood. They shook hands and the younger man left.

When he was alone, Lorenzo once again touched the map. He traced the outline of Marcelli Wines. Joe had accused him of playing a game. There was no game. But a plan? Ah, that was something different.

Brenna stood in the center of the vineyard and watched as the last of the Cabernet grapes were harvested by the awkward-looking machine being driven between the rows. The difference between her own small winery and this one could be measured in the number of days it took to bring in the grapes. Marcelli would produce over ten thousand cases. Hers would number in the hundreds.

But it was a start, she told herself, basking in a glow of pride. She’d done what she wanted and everything had gone well. Now she just had to wait for time and chemistry to produce magic.

She bent down and touched a denuded vine. The mechanical harvester was only used on the less-than-premium grapes. She hated how the machines stripped away too many leaves and left tire tracks on the hard earth. While she understood the financial necessity, she wished each cluster of fruit could be treated with gentle reverence.

“Okay. I’ve been out in the sun too long,” she murmured as she straightened and laughed. Having philosophical thoughts about grape picking couldn’t be good. Next she would be waxing poetic about each fallen leaf. The bright spot in her morning was that she’d managed to think about something other than Nic. Given their last very intimate encounter, that was something close to a miracle.

Nic. Just letting his name echo in her brain made her smile. She wasn’t clear on what exactly had happened or what it meant. Three days after the fact, she was still experiencing aftershocks. She had a suspicion it was illegal for sex to be that good.

Feelings she didn’t want to acknowledge or name fluttered through her. Something had happened that night when they’d finally talked about the past. Clearing the air had changed things between them. She wasn’t ready to deal with it, but in time she would have to. What happened after that was anyone’s guess.

“What are you so happy about?”

The voice came from directly behind her. Brenna jumped and screamed. When she spun around, she saw Joe standing less than three feet away.

“Don’t sneak up on me. What is it with the men around here. First Nic, then you.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“About Nic? Too late. The Grands told me all about you bringing one of the enemy to the engagement party. They were pretty shocked.”

“I’ll bet. Fortunately you showed up and offered a fine distraction. Did I ever thank you for that?”

“Just doing my job, ma’am. Speaking of which.” He glanced around at the vineyard. “I wanted you to know I’m heading out.”

“What?” She stared at him. “You’re leaving?”

“That’s the general idea. I need to get back to work. This has been a great vacation and all, but a guy can only take so much of the Marcelli clan.”

Leaving? “But you can’t,” she said, stunned. “If you go…You’re supposed to stay and inherit everything. What about the money?”

He shrugged. “Get real, Brenna. Lorenzo was just jerking both our chains with all that talk.”

“No. You’re wrong. He would gladly leave you everything.”

“What does that mean? He’d leave me the winery? Like I know what to do with that? You think I’d own Marcelli outright? No way. He’s a wily old coot. I guarantee you everything would be tied up so tight, I couldn’t get so much as a bottle of wine for myself. He offered the winery as a bribe to get me to stay and as a way to piss you off. I’m not sure why, but I think that was his plan. Judging from how you two go at each other, I’d say it was working.”

Brenna couldn’t breathe. The earth seemed to be moving beneath her feet, but she didn’t think it was because of an earthquake. Could Joe be right? Had her grandfather just been playing with them both?

“What did you tell him?” she demanded. “What did you say?”

“That I was wise to him. And if he tried to leave me everything, I’d just give it to you. He didn’t like that.”

“I’ll bet.”

Her brain wasn’t working. She couldn’t think straight. Was this really happening? Was Joe not a threat anymore?

She touched his arm. “Stay a little longer. Please.”

“Oh, sure, now that I’m not a threat, you want me around.”

“Hey, I wanted you around before.”

“I know.” He glanced around at the vineyard. “This has been great, but I don’t belong here. Not yet.”

“What does that mean? Will you come back? Is the family too much to deal with?”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s understandable.” Lord knows they got to her and she was used to them. “Are you glad you came?”

His dark gaze settled on her face. “Absolutely.”

“I’m glad. I know my folks have been thrilled having you around. And my grandparents. I guess all of us.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me.”

“Good. You’re the one I worry about the most.”

“Why?”

“I just do.”

She sighed. “I worry about you, too. You’re the one putting your life on the line.”

“I’m a pro. Don’t sweat it.”

She didn’t know what to say. “Thank you” seemed wildly inadequate after what he’d done.

“You could have had it all,” she said.

“Not even on a bet. Not with the old man’s rules. You’re the only one who can handle him.”

“I don’t do a very good job.”

“Joe! Joe!”

Brenna looked past her brother and saw Mia running toward them. Her baby sister crashed through a row of vines, making Brenna wince.

“Walk between the rows!” she yelled, but Mia ignored her.

She stumbled through another row of vines and came to a stop in front of Joe.

“Say it’s not true,” she demanded. “It can’t be true.”

Tears filled Mia’s brown eyes.

Joe shifted uncomfortably. “If you’re talking about me leaving-”

He never got a chance to finish his sentence. Mia flung herself at him and clung as if she never wanted to let go. “You can’t go. Not yet. I’ve never had a big brother before, and I really like it.”

Joe stood awkwardly for a couple of seconds, then gingerly patted Mia’s back. He was big and broad to Mia’s petite frame. He looked like a bear hugging a kitten. As Brenna watched, his expression tightened and something that might have been regret twisted his mouth.

“I have to go,” he said gently. “I have a job.”

“A dangerous job.” Mia stepped back and jammed her hands onto her hips. “Don’t you dare die. That would really piss me off.”

“I’ll do my best to stay safe.”

Her gaze narrowed. “You’d better. I swear, Joe, if you don’t come back, I’ll hunt down every single one of your friends and have sex with them. I’ll even let the others watch while I do it.”

He winced. “Okay. I’m motivated to stay alive.”

“You’d better.”

He turned to Brenna. “I guess this is good-bye.”

She nodded and stepped into his embrace. He hugged her hard.

“Stay strong,” he whispered in her ear. “Everything’s going to work out.”

She hoped he was right. “Ditto what Mia said,” she told him. “Minus the sex part. We want you to come back to us. We’re your family now, and the fact that we give you the willies is no excuse to stay away.”

“Fair enough.”

Mia moved close and he hugged them both, then bent down so they could kiss his cheek. With a last wave, he turned and walked away. Brenna watched him go. Like Mia, she would miss him.

“The time will go fast,” she said. “Before we know it, he’ll be underfoot and getting on our nerves.”

Mia sniffed. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“I know.”

When Nic stepped out of his office, he saw an unfamiliar SUV pulling up beside the building. The door opened and a tall man stepped out of the Jeep Wrangler.

It took Nic a second to place the guy, then he recognized Brenna’s long-lost brother.

Max pushed past him and raced toward the visitor. As usual, the pup tried to wiggle the stranger to death by leaping and licking, then rolling onto his back to beg for a belly rub.

Joe crouched down and obliged, then looked at Nic. “You’ve got yourself a real watchdog here.”

Nic strolled toward the duo. “I’m figuring he’ll grow up and turn vicious.”

“Not likely.”

Max sprang to his feet and got one good swipe on Joe’s face before taking off for a run around the yard.

Nic held out his hand. “We weren’t introduced the night you came home. I’m Nic Giovanni.” He grinned. “If you’ve spent any time with your grandfather, then you know I’m the enemy.”

“So I’ve heard.” Joe rose and shook his hand. “Joe Larson.” He looked around at the winery. “Nice place you got here.”

Nic nodded, but didn’t speak. There had to be a reason Brenna’s brother had stopped by, although he couldn’t think of one offhand.

Joe leaned against the fender of his Jeep. “Lorenzo told me a lot about the feud between your two families. It sounds like something right out of Shakespeare.”

“It’s old news. Lorenzo worries about the past, but the rest of us are willing to let it go.”

Joe nodded. “Makes sense. Things change. People move on.” He jerked his head toward the back of his SUV. “Which is what I’m doing. Heading back to work.”

Nic couldn’t have been more surprised if Joe had started line dancing. Leaving? Did that mean he wouldn’t be inheriting? If so, Marcelli Wines was still up for grabs.

He did his best to act as if Joe’s announcement didn’t mean anything to him.

“Brenna mentioned you were a Navy SEAL.”

Joe’s gaze narrowed. “That’s true. I have a lot of specialized training.” He paused to let the words sink in. “I guess it’s not right for a brother to have a favorite sister, so I worry about all of them. But sometimes I worry about Brenna the most. I wouldn’t want anything happening to her. Anything that would…hurt her.”

Nic didn’t know if he should laugh or prepare for a fist-fight. Logic told him that Joe was pissing in the dark, but he couldn’t be sure. Had he learned anything or was he fishing?

“Are you threatening me?” Nic asked mildly.

“Sure. Whatever it takes.”

Damn it all if Nic wasn’t pleased that Brenna had someone on her side. Which made him the village idiot, seeing as the person on her side was capable of killing him with little more than dental floss.

“Brenna’s a grown-up,” he said. “You don’t get to interfere.”

“Says who?”

Nic chuckled. “Brenna for one. If she knew you were here, she’d have your hide as a rug.”

Joe shrugged. “She’d have to catch me first.”

Nic realized he liked Joe. “Hurting Brenna isn’t part of my plan.”

“Want to tell me what is?”

“No.”

“Is she going to get hurt anyway?”

Nic considered the question. Would Brenna be hurt by his plan to buy Marcelli Wines? His humor faded. Easy question, easier answer.

Joe pushed off the Jeep. “You’re right. I can’t protect her, as much as I want to. But something tells me you can. You might want to think about that.”

He opened the door and slid onto the driver’s seat. “Guess I’ll see you the next time I’m in town.”

Nic nodded.

As Joe drove away, Maggie stepped out of the office and walked toward Nic. “Who was that handsome stranger?”

“What happened to being happily married?”

“Oh, I am. But I can still look.” She stopped in front of him. “Are you going to tell me who he is?”

“No. Do you have the final numbers on the financing for buying Marcelli?”

She nodded slowly. “Everything’s ready. Lorenzo Marcelli simply has to sign on the dotted line. But I thought you weren’t sure he would be willing to sell.”

“That just changed.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry to hear that. I wish you wouldn’t do this. It’s wrong.”

“I’m not asking for your opinion, I’m asking you to do your job.”

“Sure, Boss.”

She sounded fine, but he saw the flash of hurt in her green eyes.

“I’ll leave the information on your desk,” she said.

“Thanks.”

She started back for the door, then paused. “You used to be one of the good guys, Nic. Why did that have to change?”

Before he could come up with an answer, she went inside.

He stalked toward the house. One of the good guys. What did that mean? She was-

He stopped in the center of the path and turned to look at the building Brenna was using. Just a few nights ago she’d forced them both to relive the past. For the first time in years he’d found himself locked back in the hurt and the anger. At one time he’d thought it would destroy him. It hadn’t and he’d moved on. Everything was different now.

Or was it? They’d made love. Somehow, despite the harsh words and aching feelings, they’d come together in a way that had both exhilarated and terrified him. As much as he’d tried to ignore it, he’d known that night that something was different.

No, he told himself. Nothing was different. The past was long gone and the future had nothing to do with it. What could have been didn’t matter. He and Brenna were old news. He had a plan and he was going to stick with it no matter what.