“You’re right. I wouldn’t. I guess it’s something of a surprise that my daughter is somewhat civilized, huh?”
“I think we have your husband to thank for that.”
She picked up another bread crust, but this one she tossed at Nic. “You’re insulting me.”
“Only a little.”
Maggie sighed, then picked up her pen. “Okay. Back to business. We’ve been over the expansion, the new equipment on order, and the Far East deal. Oh, Jeremy wanted to talk about the bottling equipment. I told him to make an appointment with you.”
“Not a problem.”
While Maggie made more notes, Nic let his attention wander to the vineyards in the distance and the clusters of grapes ripening in the bright sun.
Today was a good day. Rather than have their meeting inside, Maggie had suggested lunch on the lawn. A table had been set up in the shade, and the lunch-room catering staff had provided the food.
The sun was warm, the sky clear. It was the kind of afternoon that made him want to take off on one of his bikes. Except he’d done that yesterday and he’d ended up somewhere he never should have been.
At the time driving by Brenna’s newly acquired acres had seemed like a good idea, but later…he’d regretted the impulse.
Or maybe he just regretted mentioning the party.
He’d offered to be her date as a joke. At least, that’s how it had started. But as soon as he spoke the words, something had shifted inside of him. He could rationalize the slight tightening in his chest and stiffness in his legs by saying he remembered being that twenty-year-old kid who’d been desperately in love with a girl whose family hated him. But he had a feeling his reaction was about more than that.
“Earth to Nic,” Maggie said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Where did you go?”
“Back about ten years.”
She studied him. “About the time your grandfather sent you away?”
He nodded.
“I always felt bad about that.”
He chuckled. “You weren’t here when it happened and you didn’t have anything to do with it. How could you feel bad?”
“I just did. When you came back from France, I could tell you’d been hurt even though you never talked about what had happened between you two.” She sighed. “You were family. Emilio had no right to send you away.”
“According to him he had every right.”
“He was wrong.”
“Maybe.”
His grandfather had asked him to choose and Nic had. Unfortunately he’d chosen Brenna instead of Wild Sea, and the old man had never forgiven him for that. Nic had been equally furious about being kicked off the property. The fact that his grandfather had come back eighteen months later, begging him to return hadn’t been enough.
He thought about that difficult first year when he’d finally come home. Maggie had been there for him. “You got me through some tough times. You were good to me.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t doing anything I didn’t want to do.”
“Was I good for you?”
Her smile turned tender. “More than you’ll ever know. You made me feel special. For the first time in my life I wasn’t a tall, gawky carrot-top with freckles. You thought I was beautiful and I could almost see myself that way. You gave me confidence.”
“To go out and marry someone else.”
She laughed. “Come on, Nic, you weren’t really hurt when I broke up with you. Admit it.”
He shrugged, not willing to concede the point, even if she was right. “If I was so great, why did you end things?”
She hesitated, as if not willing to tell him the truth.
He leaned toward her. “I’d like to know.”
“It’s embarrassing.” She smiled wryly. “But if you insist. The reason I ended things was I knew you’d never fall in love with me, and I didn’t want to fall in love with you. I’d already had enough heartache in my life. So I broke it off while I still could.”
Love? Nic had never known, never guessed things were that serious for her. He studied her green eyes and wondered if he’d inadvertently hurt her all those years ago.
“So I got you all primed, and then your husband came along and plucked you like a ripe peach.”
“Absolutely.” She grinned and whatever shadows had drifted into her eyes faded away. “Besides, I wanted to get married and you weren’t interested in anything permanent. You still aren’t.” She pointed a finger at him. “At some point you have to be willing to give your heart and take a chance. Do you really want to die old and alone?”
“Are those my only options? I took your advice and got a dog. That should count for something.”
“Not enough. What about letting people in your life?”
Nic understood the theory, but didn’t get the point. Everyone he’d ever cared about had walked away from him. As far as he could tell, the love thing wasn’t working in his world.
“I have people in my life,” he told her.
“You have friends, but no romantic interest. When was the last time you were serious about someone? And before you ask, no, a three-week sexual relationship doesn’t count.”
“What about a four-week one?”
She glared at him. “You know what I mean.”
He did, and he wasn’t answering the question. What was the point? He avoided serious relationships. The last one he’d had had been with Maggie. Before that, Brenna. While he hadn’t minded when Maggie ended things, Brenna’s betrayal had destroyed him.
“Stick to your numbers,” he said, tapping the papers on the table. “They’re what you know best.”
“You’re dismissing my concerns.”“I know.”
“Fine. Be lonely. I don’t care.”
They both knew that she was lying. While Nic would never admit it, he liked that Maggie cared. She was a good friend.
“I appreciate the advice,” he told her. “But I’m okay.”
“Maybe.” She eyed him. “Speaking of women…”
“Were we?”
“I was. I met Brenna Marcelli the other day.”
“So I heard. What was that about?”
“I told you I wanted to check her out and see if I had to feel guilty.” Her gaze narrowed. “She’s very nice and she’s working hard to make her winery a success. I can’t believe you’re going to take advantage of her.”
Nic had lots of plans to take advantage of Brenna, but not in the way Maggie meant. “She’ll be fine.”
“Will she? Are you really going to give her the time she needs to get her business up and running?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dammit, Nic, why not? Why did you offer her the loan if you’re just going to screw her over?”
He didn’t like the question. “I told you. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.”
“Is all this because she’s Lorenzo Marcelli’s granddaughter, or is there something else I don’t know about?”
“My life is an open book.”
“Right. One that’s written in invisible ink.” She collected her papers. “Until recently I’ve always admired how you did business. You’ve always been completely straightforward. Because of that, you’ve always been able to look yourself in the mirror. I would hate to see that change.”
She stood and walked away. Nic watched her go. He told himself that Maggie didn’t understand what he was trying to do. She saw things as black and white, but life was more complicated than that. Sometimes winning was expensive, but he’d always been willing to pay the price.
Besides, he’d yet to find a deal he couldn’t afford. There was no reason to think this one was different.
• • •
Francesca stepped into the basted gown and pulled it up over her hips. Brenna waited until the bodice was in place, then carefully pinned the back closed.
“How does it feel?” she asked her twin. Grammy M had just finished the initial assembly of a thin cotton dress they would use as a pattern for the actual wedding gown. Once it was fitted, the garment would be taken apart. When there was eighty-dollar-a-yard silk involved, it was best to experiment on cheap fabric first.
“Good. It’s a little loose in the waist. I wish I could know how big I’m going to get between now and the wedding. Should we let it out more?”
Brenna fingered the cotton and found she could pinch about two inches of fabric. “I’ll ask one of the Grands. They have more experience with that sort of thing.” She bent down to see where the hem should be. “Are these the shoes you’re wearing?”
“Uh-huh.”
She slipped several pins into the fabric, then straightened. “So the party is this Saturday. You must be excited.”
“I think it will be fun.”
Not exactly the word Brenna would have used. She cleared her throat. “So here’s the thing. I was thinking of maybe, you know, bringing someone.”
Francesca spun around to face her. “You’re kidding. Like a guy?”
“Yes, a guy.”
“But I didn’t think you were seeing anyone.”
“I’m not.” She and Nic weren’t “seeing” each other. They were…She sighed. She had no idea what they were doing. “The problem is I don’t want to make trouble. It’s your party, it’s your special day.”
“What trouble? The Grands will be thrilled that you’re dating. They want you to get married again.”
“Not to Nic Giovanni.”
Francesca’s perfect mouth dropped open. “Nic? You want to bring Nic?”
Brenna nodded. She’d been mulling over the concept for three days, and she’d come to the conclusion that, kidding or not, Nic’s feelings had been hurt when she hadn’t instantly agreed to take him. While that wasn’t exactly her responsibility, she still felt bad. Maybe it had something to do with the chemistry bubbling between them or maybe she was still feeling guilty about the past or maybe she’d slipped into madness. Whatever the reason, she wanted to ask him. But only if her sister agreed.
“We were talking the other day and I mentioned the engagement party and he said he would like to go and I thought maybe I’d bring him.” She looked at Francesca. “But I know it will be really uncomfortable, so I didn’t want to do that and ruin the party.”
Her sister grinned. “I think it’s a terrific idea.”
“Oh, please. Talk about the fur flying.”
“But that’s perfect. We haven’t actually booked any entertainment.”
“Very funny. It could get ugly.”
“No way.” Francesca returned her attention to the mirror. “Grandpa Lorenzo will grumble, but I don’t think anyone else will care. You should bring him. A nice, romantic night under the stars. Anything could happen.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Brenna mumbled. She sighed. “I talked to Katie and she pretty much said the same thing.”
Francesca met her gaze in the mirror. “So you’re going to do it?”
“I’ll call him and see if he wants to come with me.”
Francesca’s gaze narrowed. “Are you sure there isn’t anything between the two of you?”
“There’s nothing,” Brenna said. But when she turned away to busy herself with the box of pins, she crossed her fingers. There was something; she just couldn’t figure out what it was.
“You’re offering a lot of cash,” Bill Freeman said. “Are you sure about that?”
“Lorenzo Marcelli is an old-fashioned businessman.” Nic glanced down at the final draft of the offer. “Cash will appeal to him. I want to keep things clean.”