Harlequin Romance February 2016 Box Set

by Barbara Wallace

  “No doubt you pictured a dark cavern full of oak casks where a group of Italian gypsy women crush the grapes by foot?”

  “Nothing that dramatic.”

  “Are you sure? That’s what the tourists believe. Why do you think my store is in the oldest building on the property? To continue the myth.”

  Meanwhile, their Old World wine was being produced in the finest of twenty-first-century stainless-steel and concrete surroundings. “So no grape stomping at all, then?” Louisa asked as she followed him down the stairs and onto the plant floor.

  “Only at the harvest festival.”

  Ahead, they caught the flash of a pale blue work shirt near one of the machines. “Vitale,” Nico called out. “Is that you?”

  A silver head appeared. “Yes, signor. I was replacing the timer belt.” Just like Mario had, the man avoided looking in her direction. “You were right, signor,” he said. “It had worn thin. We shouldn’t have any more problems.”

  “Good. Good. Vitale, I’d like you to meet Louisa.” Once again, Nico forced an introduction, and again Louisa was acknowledged with a nervous smile and a nod before Nico offered Vitale an excuse to leave.

  “Give them time,” Nico told her when she started to comment. “They’ll warm up to you.”

  Sure they will, she thought with a sigh. “People are going to believe what they want to believe, Nico.” Sometimes even when the truth was right in front of them—the way she had with Steven. “And in this case, the headlines have had way too big a head start.”

  “Headlines be damned. Once they get to know you, they’ll realize what is written in the papers is garbage. In a few weeks no one in Monte Calanetti will even care about Luscious Louisa.”

  “From your lips...”

  While they were talking, he’d moved closer, narrowing the space between them until he stood no more than a foot away. Close enough she could see the dark hair peering out from the open collar of his shirt and smell the spicy citrus of his aftershave. “Louisa,” he said, his gentle voice sounding as though he were stating the simplest of truths. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the truth about a person.”

  “Don’t be so sure. There’s an entire town back in Massachusetts that could prove you wrong.”

  Nico chuckled. Despite the gap between them, his fingers had somehow found their way into her hair and were combing the strands away from her face. “You’re being dramatic, bella mia. I’m sure your true friends knew better.”

  “They might have, if I’d had any.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing.” Distracted by his touch, she’d opened a door she hadn’t meant to open. “Like you said, I’m being dramatic.”

  He didn’t believe her, but Louisa didn’t care. She’d revealed enough secrets for one day.

  “I’m tired,” she said instead. “It’s making me say silly things.”

  “You should get some rest, then.”

  Easier said than done. True rest had eluded her for years. The last time she’d relaxed—truly relaxed—had been when? The first few months of her marriage? Such a long time ago.

  Dear Lord, but she was tired of being on guard, and Nico’s touch felt so wonderfully comforting. With a soothing brush of his hand, her resistance slipped a little further. It felt so good having someone on her side. Nico’s shoulder was right there. Broad, capable, strong. Would it be so bad if she leaned on him for just a little bit? She was so very tired of being alone.

  With a soft sigh escaping her lips, she curled into him.

  “It’s all right,” she heard Nico whisper as his arms wrapped around her. “I’m here. I’ll take care of everything.”

  * * *

  This was a first for Nico. Taking a woman in his arms without any intention of making love to her. But as he drew her close, her sweet floral scent wrapping itself around him, his only thought was of reassurance. He knew why, of course. Louisa’s cool and distant mask had slipped, and the vulnerability he saw deepened the queer sense of protectiveness she’d awakened in him. Every time, the depth of what he was feeling shocked him. What was it about this blonde American that made him want to fly to America and strangle every reporter in the country personally for causing her such pain?

  At least he could make sure the European press didn’t copy their American colleagues, even if he had to physically throw every paparazzo in Italy off his property. Cradling her head against his shoulder, he whispered. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Instantly, she stiffened. “No,” she said pulling out of his embrace. “Don’t.”

  Nico opened his mouth to argue, expecting to see the same indignant expression he’d seen at the wedding, the last time she reacted this way. The color had drained from her face, turning her so pale her skin nearly matched the white blond of her hair. Her eyes were pale, too, as though she were struggling to keep fear from invading their depths.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d say she seen a ghost.

  What had he done? Or had something else happened in Boston, something more than the paparazzi trapping her in her home?

  She blinked and the expression disappeared. Back was the Louisa he knew best. Distant and guarded. “It was wrong of me to lean on you like that,” she said. “I lost myself for a second. It won’t happen again.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with turning to a friend when you’re upset.” He wondered if the word friend sounded as wrong to her ears as it did his. Surely holding a friend didn’t feel as good as holding Louisa did. There was an amazing rightness in the way her body connected with his.

  “I know, but...” She looked past him, to the window that looked into the front office. Inside, Vitale and Mario could be seen talking. “You’ve already done enough, letting me hide here.”

  That wasn’t what she was going to say. She was worried what others would think.

  “You are not hiding; you are working. Believe me, it is you who will be doing me the favor.”

  “Do you invite all your employees to stay at your house?”

  “Only the beautiful ones,” he teased. When she didn’t share the joke, he turned serious. “No one will know that you’re staying at my house.”

  “You don’t think they’ll figure it out?”

  “Only if we tell them,” he replied. “I’ve never had much taste for airing personal business in public.”

  Finally, she smiled. “Nico Amatucci, the model of discretion.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Just in case, now that I am working here, I think it’s important that you treat me the same as any other employee. Especially considering today’s headlines. No sense feeding the gossip.”

  “You’re right.” A voice in his head, though, told him gossip was only part of her reason. There was something more to her distance. And not the need to spend time alone, as she’d claimed the other day. It was as if she feared the attraction simmering between them. He supposed he couldn’t blame her; the desire was stronger than anything he’d experienced before, as well.

  “A regular employee,” he said, echoing her words. Now was not the time to push for more. “I’ll leave the hugs to your female friends. Speaking of, have you spoken to Dani?”

  Louisa shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?” Of course. The way she looked away said everything. She was embarrassed. In spite of his lecture yesterday, she still worried her friends thought less of her.

  If I had friends. Her comment from earlier came rushing back, and his insides tensed with anger on her behalf.

  “You should call her,” he said. “She’s worried.”

  “I will. After I’ve settled in.”

  “Good.” If she didn’t, he would tell Dani and the others to come visit. She needed to know she had friends on her side, that the people of Monte Calanetti cared what happened to her.

  As much as he did.

  They spent the rest of the morning touring the winery. Ni
co explained the entire winemaking process from when the lifts brought freshly picked fruit to the loading dock to the fermentation stage, when the wine aged in oak barrels, just as it had for hundreds of years.

  Occasionally, they passed an employee who would murmur a quick hello and rush away. While Louisa pretended not to mind the chilly reception, the words if I had friends repeated in his head. All he could picture was her barricaded in her house, surrounded by garbage she was too afraid to take outside while the world stared at her in judgment. He refused to let that happen again, not while she was under his protection.

  By the time they finished and she was settled in the rear office with a stack of orders that needed fulfilling, his anger was at the boiling point. He marched back into the processing room and straight toward Mario and Vitale. “You will be friendly and polite to Louisa,” he growled. “Is that clear?”

  Both men nodded rapidly. He never raised his voice unless trying to yell over the machinery. “Good. You let the rest of the company know, as well. If I hear of anyone showing her disrespect, they will answer to me personally.”

  The people of Monte Calanetti would warm up to Louisa, even if he had to make them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I DON’T BELIEVE IT. You really are working here.”

  Louisa froze in her chair at the sight of Marianna, Nico’s sister, standing in the doorway wearing a decidedly vexed expression. “When Dani told me, I thought she was joking,” she said.

  Dani worked fast. Louisa had only called her best friend a few hours ago. Clearly the youngest Amatucci had rushed right over the second she got the news.

  “It’s only a temporary arrangement,” she said. She managed to keep the defensiveness out of her voice, Barely. “I’m helping with order fulfillment.”

  The brunette waved away the answer as she stepped into the room. Being in her third trimester, her pregnant belly entered a full step before her. “He better not be making you work for a free dinner the way he used to make me. I don’t care how wonderful a chef Rafe is, he’s not as good as euros in your pocket.”

  She wanted Louisa to get paid? That was her concern? Louisa didn’t know what to say. “You mean you don’t mind my being here?”

  “Why should I?” She eased herself into a nearby chair with a sigh. “Oh,” she said seeing Louisa’s expression. “You mean because the press said you two were dating.”

  “Among other things.”

  Again, the woman waved her off. “Who believes anything the newspapers say? Are those wine orders?” She motioned to a spreadsheet of names and addresses on the desk.

  “Yesterday’s telephone orders.” Louisa grabbed the change of topic with more gratitude than she thought possible. “I haven’t printed out the internet orders yet.”

  “Wow, Nico wasn’t kidding when he said the business was doing well.”

  No, he wasn’t. Wine vendors, restaurants, tourists—everyone was eager to stock Amatucci Red. “No surprise,” Nico had remarked, winking in her direction. “Once they have a taste, they want more.”

  Louisa had poured herself a glass before bed last night, and it was as delicious as she remembered. When it had been a lingering flavor in Nico’s kiss, she recalled with a shiver. Between the wine and yesterday’s embrace, it was no wonder she’d dreamt of him all night.

  Once they have a taste, they want more.

  “At this rate he won’t have much stock left for the harvest festival,” Marianna said, dragging Louisa back to the conversation at hand. “Unless he bottles more.”

  “I don’t think the next vintage is ready.” As Nico explained yesterday, the liquid needed to ferment at least five years before it was considered ready for bottling. “He said something about relabeling the remaining stock as Amatucci reserve.”

  “Relabeling and jacking up the price to reflect the reduced supply,” Marianna mused aloud. “An old winemaker’s trick, although few pull it off as well as my brother does. There’s a reason he’s won the country’s Winemaker of the Year two years in a row.”

  “He has?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No.” She’d had no idea. “I knew the winery was successful.” The sheer scope of his operations said as much. “But I didn’t know how much so.”

  “Much as we tease him, my big brother has done very well with our family business. He’s considered one of Italy’s brightest wine stars.”

  “Careful, Marianna. Keep saying things like that and I’ll believe you mean them.” The subject of their conversation strolled in wearing a cocky grin. As Louisa had come to expect over the past couple of days, he already bore the evidence of hard work in the sun. The sight of his glistening biceps made her stomach flutter.

  He nodded in her direction. “Although I hope you’re suitably impressed.”

  “I am,” she replied. “Very.” Smug as the man was, the only awards he’d ever mentioned were the medals various vintages had won over the years, and those he attributed to the grapes, not to himself.

  Now that she thought about it though, he didn’t need to trumpet his accomplishments. His self-confidence said everything. “I was telling your sister that you planned to relabel the Amatucci Red,” she said.

  “Nothing wine lovers love more than to think they are getting something unique. And in this case they are.”

  He smiled again, straight at her this time, and Louisa found herself squeezing the arm of her chair. Who knew legs could give out while you were sitting? When he turned on the charm, it was all a person could do to keep her insides from turning to jelly. What her ex-husband could have done with magnetism like Nico’s... With a little charm, a man can sell anything, Steven used to say.

  Only Nico didn’t just sell, he made wine. Good wine that he worked hard to produce. He came by his success honestly. That was what she found impressive.

  Across the way, his baby sister offered a disdainful sniff. “Don’t compliment him too much, Louisa. His head is big enough as it is.”

  “Not as big as your belly,” Nico replied. “Are you supposed to be out in that condition?”

  “You’re as bad as my husband. I’m pregnant, not an invalid. I’m also bored stiff. Ryan is in Melbourne until tomorrow.”

  “So you came here looking for entertainment.”

  “Isn’t that what big brothers are for?” the brunette asked, winking in Louisa’s direction.

  Louisa felt herself smile in return. Marianna’s openness had her flummoxed. She was so certain she would be furious at her for involving Nico in her scandals. Yet here she was, joking as if none of the stories had ever happened.

  “If you’re going to stay, you’re going to have to work,” Nico told his sister.

  “You want me to pick grapes?”

  “No, we—” waving his arm, he indicated himself and Louisa “—can pick your brain. That is the reason I am here,” he said. “We need to decide what the winery is going to do for the festival.”

  “You haven’t decided yet?” Eyes wide, Marianna pushed herself straight. “Little last-minute, don’t you think?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been busy. We still have time.” He sounded confident, but Marianna rolled her eyes nonetheless.

  “What kind of contribution are you talking about?” Louisa asked. More important, what did Nico expect from her?

  “All the major businesses in Monte Calanetti are expected to build a float for the festival parade,” Nico explained. “Something that celebrates the harvest or Tuscan heritage.”

  “Decorated with native foliage,” Marianna added. “Grapes, olives, flowers.”

  “Wow.” Louisa hadn’t realized the festival was so elaborate. In her mind, she’d pictured a street fair similar to the St. Anthony’s Feast in Boston’s North End. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

  “It is,” Marianna told her. “Everyone works together to decorate and all the businesses compete to see who can outdo the others. The winner gets to display the harvest festival
trophy. Amatucci Vineyards came in second last year. We created a miniature version of the plaza, complete with a working fountain.” Pulling out her phone, the woman tapped a few buttons before turning the screen toward Louisa. “See?”

  The photo showed Nico standing in front of the fountain, hands upon his hips. His smile dripping with pride. He looked like a superhero.

  “Impressive,” she murmured. Bet whoever took home the trophy didn’t look nearly as good.

  Marianna assumed Louisa meant the float. “Well, we started planning early. It’s nearly impossible to assemble a prize-winning contribution at the last minute.”

  “Nearly, but not completely impossible,” Nico retorted. “All we need is a good idea.”

  “Don’t forget time,” Marianna added.

  Her brother waved her off, the same wave, Louisa noticed, his sister had used when dismissing the newspaper articles. “We will keep the design simple. It’s not about being complicated, it’s about being memorable. Like an Amatucci vintage.”

  His sister rolled her eyes again as Louisa stifled a snort. She was beginning to think some of his audacious behavior was on purpose. To see what kind of reaction he could elicit.

  As far as the parade float went, however, he might have a point. She tried to remember the New Year’s parades she used to watch on television as a kid. Most of the floats were a blur of colors. “Is there a theme?” she asked.

  “Oh, there’s always a theme,” Nico replied. “But no one pays attention.”

  “No one meaning Ni—”

  All of a sudden, Marianna gasped and clutched her stomach. Louisa and Nico were on their feet in a flash. The brunette held up a hand. “No need to panic. The baby kicked extra hard, is all. Going to be a little football player, I think. Uncle Nico is going to have to practice his footwork.” Her face radiating maternal tranquility, she rubbed her swollen stomach. “Are you ready to play coach, Uncle Nico?”

  Louisa’s heart squeezed a little as the image of Nico and a miniature version of himself chasing a soccer ball popped into her head.

  “I’m not sure I’d be the best coach,” Nico replied. It was an uncharacteristically humble comment.