He must have sensed the heat of her gaze, because he stole a glance and asked, “What are you thinking?”
“Um … not much.”
He smiled.
She returned her gaze to the window. Trying to find conversation, she asked, “How much longer do you think it will take?”
He laughed. “You sound like a small child. ‘When will we get there?’”
Grateful for the change in subject, she smiled and said, “Well?”
“Another hour, we’re almost to the bridge.”
A few minutes later, they were on the span of the Benicia-Martinez Bridge. The reserve fleet in the Suisun Bay moored in the bay always struck Elizabeth as something that was right with America — a strength to be used when it was needed, built with American know-how and labor.
She glanced at the Italian next to her and once again tried to figure out what she was doing with him. They’d grown up in different cultures and they wanted different lives.
“You are looking too intense,
cara
,” he said. “This weekend is for us to relax. and get to know each other. What has you glaring so fiercely at the poor car in front of us?”
She laughed. “I think I am doing what my mother called ‘borrowing trouble before its time.’”
“Ah … you are worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet.”
“Something like that.”
“I have found that worrying about something that has not happened does not bring peace, only agony. My sister tells me it is the nature of women to worry for everyone.” He shrugged. “But there is enough to deal with every day to wonder what problems the future will bring.”
“But if you don’t plan for the future, it could be worse than it would have been,” she said.
“Perhaps,” he said. “But perhaps not. Maybe you make it worse by fussing about it.”
Did she?
Maybe that was the issue — she was always thinking, planning, worrying — her mind never stopped. “Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t shut my mind off,” she said. “I have to get up and read for a while before I can go back to sleep.”
“What can keep your mind going so much? Everything seems working well for you.”
She refocused on his hands wrapped on the steering wheel, a spark of desire running through her, longing to have those strong hands caress her skin and make her forget all her worries.
“Because when I don’t worry, things happen,” she continued. “Like when I got pregnant with Sarah.”
“But she is such a wonderful girl — how could worrying about her existence have been useful at all?”
How indeed? But there were other things she hadn’t worried about — like Joe’s fidelity. Look what had happened. Would worrying have changed anything?
She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Thoughts were becoming muddled, beliefs she’d clung to were becoming unraveled.
Marcos removed one of his hands from the steering wheel and laid it on top of hers. “I will not let you get into trouble,
cara
.” He smiled. “Well, at least not too much.” His face sobered again. “Can you let go of your fears for this weekend and enjoy what is around us?” He gestured toward rows of vines climbing a hill. “There is life. Bare branches in the winter, to rich fruit in fall … then the cycle again. It is the way of all things. Even humans,
cara
. We have bad times, our winters, but if we lift our faces to the sun, absorb the rain and put our faith in God, we too will be rich with fruit in the fall.”
His words took her by surprise. She hadn’t thought about God in a long time. She certainly didn’t rely on faith to get her through the day. Maybe it was something she should change.
He turned up a long hill to a chateau-style building.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He gestured up the hill. “Champagne. Or as they must call it in America — sparkling wine. It is a great way to start a trip to Napa — sitting on the patio of an elegant building, a glass in your hand, watching the drama of the vineyard.”
“You really do like what you do, don’t you?”
“Of course.” He frowned. “Don’t you love your shop and the idea of your lotions?”
“Yes, but … ”
“But what?”
She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t know what will happen. If I fail, I will lose everything and have to start all over again. If I succeed? My life will be very different.”
He nodded. “Yes. You will need to have more employees, more taxes, more worry … but more fun, too. The first time I saw a stranger drinking my wine in a restaurant, my heart nearly burst. You will know this joy, too, Elizabeth. I do not think you will fail.”
• • •
By the time they got to the inn later that afternoon, Elizabeth’s senses were overflowing. They’d visited several of the more famous wineries, Marcos surprising her with a private appointment at one of the cult wineries high in the Mayacamas Mountains.
Marcos had stopped at a vineyard supply store and discussed vineyard management with the proprietor. Elizabeth had been quickly overwhelmed by the discussion of double-cordon trellising and California sprawl, but tried to pay attention. Would Marcos be as patient with her when she started talking about alpha-hydroxy acids and retinol for her skin care line?
Lunch had been a selection of cheeses, meats and olives from the Oakville Grocery, enhanced with a small bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon many hours ago. As they drove up the gravel road through a vineyard, her stomach rumbled.
The rose-colored brick of the inn was warmed by the late-afternoon gloaming, pansies providing welcoming nods with the slight breeze. Elizabeth’s breath hitched. Marcos had chosen a beautiful place to seduce her, if that was his intention.
She turned to find him looking at her, a grin on his face, as if he knew her thoughts. He handed her out of the car and retrieved their bags from the trunk. She pushed open the door and stepped into a tiled rotunda, curved staircase leading to the upper floors. The inn was as sophisticated and elegant as the man who had brought her here.
“Welcome!” A tall thin man emerged from the study to their right. “Elizabeth Ladina and Marcos Gramari! I am correct, yes?”
They nodded, but he continued without pause. “I’m never wrong. Besides … ” He grinned. “You are the only two left to arrive. It’s good to have you all here. I’ll take you up to your rooms and show you where everything is.” He grabbed one of the bags from Marcos and took the stairs two at a time.
Marcos shrugged and gestured for Elizabeth to follow him.
The proprietor stopped at a room at the top of the stairs. “Now, Elizabeth, you are here. The Chardonnay Room.” He opened the door and dropped the bag he was carrying on the quilted bed. “Here is the remote for the television.” He glanced at Marcos. “Although I don’t think you will be watching television.” The proprietor rapidly spouted off the other amenities for the room and then popped back out the door.
“Here is your room, the Pinot Noir Room.” Elizabeth idly waited in the hall as the owner went through the same routine in the next room. When he emerged from the Pinot Noir Room, he said, “DVD library downstairs, port and snacks served from eight on in the living room, breakfast at nine. Any questions?”
Without waiting for an answer, he said, “Good. I’ll leave you. You have this floor to yourselves. The other guests are in the wing. So … no need to behave yourselves.” He dashed back down the stairs.
Marcos and Elizabeth looked at each other and burst out laughing.
He stepped toward her and put his arms around her, pulling her close. “So,” he said. “Are we going to behave ourselves?”
Her heart ached with indecision. A rash act had upended her life once before. If only she could be sure of him.
He shook his head. “You are thinking too much again, Elizabeth. Just answer the question without thinking.”
Impossible.
“We are going to behave ourselves,” she said.
“I’ll have to work on changing that answer,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.
She stopped thinking and melted into the kiss. The faint start of his evening beard roughened the skin around her lips, but she embraced the discomfort, the touch of masculinity. His tongue probed and she opened her lips to taste the sweet melon they’d shared for an afternoon snack.
He pulled her closer and his arms, strengthened by vineyard chores, created a safe haven for her yearnings. Her nipples tightened as her arousal heightened.
“Ahem.” The proprietor was back. “I’d say, ‘Get a room,’ but you already have two and you’re
still
in the hall.”
Marcos and Elizabeth pulled apart and looked at the lanky man standing with a pen and pad in his hand.
“Any food allergies?” he asked.
The inn boasted a restaurant on the property. Marcos and Elizabeth sat on a small balcony overlooking a waterfall, pool and the setting sun on the vineyard. They both elected to have Coquilles St. Jacques with a Napa Valley Keenan Chardonnay.
“It is very decadent, this meal,” Marcos said, after plopping the first succulent scallop in his mouth. “It goes well with my dinner partner.” His gaze raked over Elizabeth. She’d surprised him when she’d emerged from her room after their passionate embrace in the hallway had been interrupted. Her hair was up, long pearls dangled from her ears and circled her neck with a soft glow.
But it was the dress that astounded him the most. The soft gold sheath, what there was of it, was made for seduction, clinging to every curve of Elizabeth’s body. He’d swear she didn’t have a bra on under the garment. The outfit was capped with a pair of elegant stilettos that he suspected had an Italian origin. The soft sent of lemons wafted from her as she moved. Again, he was flattered she’d chosen to wear his perfume.
It was all he could do to control himself. The outfit screamed “come here.”
Unfortunately, the caution in her eyes hinted at “go away.”
She’d been patient all day with his talk of wine and vineyards, now it was time for her.
“Tell me more about your plans for your lotions,” he asked, taking a sip of his wine.
She waved a hand. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested.”
He captured the hand in his. “Oh, but I am.”
Her eyes questioned his, but must have seen his sincerity, because she said, “Okay.”
He released her.
“I want to make as safe a line as possible with as many natural ingredients as I can. It’s tricky because preservatives and chemicals sometimes have a purpose that’s hard to reproduce naturally. I figure it’s going to be an evolving process.”
“Do you have someone to work with?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m still researching, but I have a line on some good people in the industry who are willing to partner with me.”
“What about packaging?”
“It’s important. I have some ideas.”
“Many people buy wine because of the label, not the taste. I imagine it is the same with cosmetics, no?”
She nodded and immediately launched into a passionate description of what she had in mind. Marcos listened intently, his attention riveted on the moist lips he’d tasted earlier.
When she finished, she looked at him expectantly, a wry look on her face. “Aren’t you going to give me your ideas?”
He cocked his head. “Why should I? You are the expert.”
She templed her fingers. “Most men would have interrupted me ten minutes ago to let me know what was wrong with my plan.”
“I am not most men.”
Some of the guarded look left her eyes. “No, you aren’t.”
They looked at each other for a long time before resuming their meal. Marcos kept the conversation light — getting her input on their itinerary for the next day. When they were finished, he took her hand and led her back up the stairs.
“Would you like to come in?” he said, gesturing to his room. “I have a wonderful movie screen.” He touched her lips with his.
“The DVDs are downstairs,” she answered breathlessly.
He tasted her lips again. “I’m sure we could create a movie of our own.”
She stilled.
Damn.
“Or we could go downstairs and watch the movie on the big screen.” He went back to feathering her lips with his. “I hear they have popcorn.”
“Oh, Marcos.” She leaned into him and he felt wetness drop to his hand. He wrapped one arm around her and cradled her head with the other. “Shhh. It is okay. We can move slowly. You are not ready.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“No need for that.”
They stood together until Elizabeth’s soft sobs dissipated. Then she looked up at him. “Thank you.” She gave him a soft lingering kiss before freeing herself from his grasp. “Good night,” she said.
The click of her door finalized his disappointment.
• • •
Marcos tossed and turned, his body aching with desire. By the time he knocked on Elizabeth’s door for breakfast, he was exhausted.
If her eyes were evidence, so was she.
“How are you?” he asked as they walked down the stairs. “I am tired. I did not sleep at all. When I did … my dreams were all of you.”
She smiled. “Yes, I’m tired, too.”
The breakfast table was laden with eggs, sausages, fruit and homemade pastries. “Coffee?” the solicitous owner asked.
“Yes. Please,” they both answered.
“Perhaps we would both sleep better if we did it together,” Marcos suggested after the man was out of earshot.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she replied.
“You do not expect me to give up making love to a beautiful woman without a fight,” he said.
“I … I … ” Elizabeth sputtered. The waitress placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of her. She grabbed it and took a sip, and hissed out a breath.
He couldn’t help but chuckle. So much for her seeming nonchalance.
“Where are you two lovebirds off to today?” The proprietor was back.
Marcos rattled off a list of wineries. “And we’ll eat out somewhere on the way,” he said at the end.
“Very nice. Well, you have a nice day. Enjoy your breakfast.” The owner dashed off and buttonholed two more of his guests.
Marcos and Elizabeth looked at each other and grinned.
“Sorry I laughed,” Marcos said. “You were trying to be so upright and it seemed funny. Is your mouth okay?”