Lucia (The Bonaveras)

by Paris Patricia

  The guy pouted. “Don’t you like me? You were being so nice. I thought you liked me.”

  “Of course I like you, Mr. Riley, but I’m afraid you mistook my friendliness for more than it is, and I’m sorry for that. You see, the truth is—I’m engaged.”

  Riley wrinkled his brow. “You are?” He looked at her hand. “But…but you’re not wearing a ring.”

  “No, I’m not, but that’s because…well…I haven’t found the right one yet.”

  The guy seemed to mull that over then said, “You’re not just making this up because you don’t like me, are you?”

  “Of course not. I…I…”

  Antonio closed the distance between them. “Good evening, darling.” He leaned in from behind and kissed Lucia on the side of the cheek. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got held up on a call.”

  She spun around, wobbled on her heels, and stared up at him with huge, startled eyes the color of jet black ink—liquid ebony.

  He reached out and took hold of her elbows, steadying her. Registering her stunned expression, he gave a subtle wink.

  She caught on and he felt her relax under his touch. The shock ebbed from her eyes and he detected a flash of relief in their fathomless depths.

  “Who are you?” Riley asked.

  “I’m her fiancé.” Antonio extended a hand toward the other man. “Are you a friend of hers?”

  “N-no, I’m…I was j-just t-talking to her.” It took several seconds before he noticed Antonio’s outstretched hand and tentatively took it. “Bill Riley,” he said, and started to back away just as another man walked up to them.

  “We’re going to be going up to our room in about ten minutes,” the newcomer said, addressing his comment to Lucia. “You told me to give you a heads-up.”

  “Okay, great, Mr. Swan. I’ll go put the final touches on everything now.” She looked at Antonio, gave him an almost imperceptible nod of thanks, and then glanced at Riley. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to go take care of something.”

  She hurried from the room, leaving the three of them standing there to watch after her.

  “I didn’t know she was engaged.” Riley sounded a bit nervous, as if he were worried Antonio might be upset.

  “I’m sure you didn’t. No harm done.” Antonio patted him on the back.

  Swan studied Riley with a look of concern. “Bill, how much have you had to drink? You don’t look well.”

  Riley squeezed his eyes shut. Although he didn’t know the man, Antonio had to agree with Swan that Riley looked a bit green.

  “I’m not sure.” Riley rubbed his forehead. “I think I might have overdone it, though. You know I’m not much of a drinker, Carl.”

  Swan put his arm around Riley’s shoulder and turned him toward the dining area. “Let’s get you some water and then maybe you should go to your room and lie down. Our meetings start at eight tomorrow and you don’t want to show up with a head banger.”

  He led Riley away, sitting him down at the nearest table and pouring him some water. He signaled another man over and said something to him. The new guy nodded and sat down at the table with Riley, probably charged with making sure he made it to his room okay.

  Antonio slid his hands into his pockets and strolled back out to the lobby. Marcella still sat at the desk, reading a book. Lucia was nowhere in sight and he assumed she’d gone to take care of whatever final touches she’d been talking to Swan about.

  “Oh, hey,” Marcella said when she looked up and saw him. “How’d it go with Lucia? I’ll bet you floored her.”

  “Well, actually, I don’t think she realizes who I am, even though I said I was her fiancé. We didn’t really get a chance to talk; she was…occupied when I went in.”

  “Really? I didn’t think she’d be too busy.”

  “There wasn’t a lot happening, but she was busy. Busy trying to fend off some guy who’d indulged beyond his limit and mistook your sister’s friendliness for something else.”

  “Oh.” Marcella chuckled. “Hey babe.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The guy. My sister Cat dubbed him hey babe because that’s what he’d say whenever he approached any of the women in there tonight.”

  Antonio heard the unmistakable click, click, click, click of spiked heels announcing a brisk approach down the hallway on the other side of the open French doors to the left of the inn’s main entrance.

  His pulse quickened as their staccato rhythm echoed crisply against the wooden floorboards. Lucia had been wearing high heels—a delightful pair of black strappy stilettos that showcased her long legs to perfection.

  He turned toward the sound. A rush of anticipation sped through him as quickly as a flame would engulf a rope that had been soaked in kerosene.

  Lucia breezed through the doorway and into the reception area, a classic beauty with a confident gait, and the flame spiked hotter.

  She saw him almost immediately and her eyes widened. Antonio heard her quick, sharp intake of breath and swore he felt a jolt of desire slam into her as strongly as the one that smacked into him, as if they were somehow connected and he was experiencing it with her.

  “You.” She slowed her pace, and he wondered if she did so to ground herself before crossing the room. She stopped in front of the desk and glanced at her sister, a smile flirting with her lips, and then nodded in his direction.

  “My hero.” The smile gave way to a lighthearted chuckle. “He came to my rescue with hey babe.”

  Lucia set the small box she’d been holding down on the desk and turned to face him. “Which I didn’t get to properly thank you for. So thank you.”

  He gave a mock bow. “Happy to be of service.” He straightened, caught a whiff of her perfume—subtle, sophisticated, and haunting. It reminded him of the jasmine growing on the trellis at the little trattoria back home where they made his favorite minestrone. It suited her.

  “The man seemed determined,” Antonio said, not able to blame the guy for trying. What man, especially one whose courage had been bolstered by the fruits of the vine, wouldn’t be tempted to try their luck with her? “When he started questioning your story, I thought it might be a good time for your fiancé to materialize.”

  “Well, you played it nicely. He clearly had too much to drink. You saved me from having to get too heavy-handed with a guest, so I’m grateful.”

  Lucia walked around and behind the desk and picked up a pad of sticky notes. Antonio saw Marcella looking between them. Amusement danced in her eyes, as if she couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.

  “I hope you weren’t looking for a room.” Lucia jotted something on the pad, pulled off the top piece of paper, and stuck it on top of a stack of folders that were piled neatly on the desk. “We’re booked for the next two nights.”

  “Marcella already explained the situation. She found something for me in Middleburg.”

  “Oh, okay. Where’d you book him?” Lucia asked her sister.

  “The Hunt and Hound. Since it’s his first time to the area, I thought he might enjoy staying someplace that oozed history.”

  Lucia nodded. “Good choice.”

  She regarded him again. “You’ll like it there. It’s charming, and if you’re around for lunch, you might want to try their Peanut Soup and spoon bread, my personal favorites.”

  Their eyes held for several seconds before she laughed somewhat self-consciously, and said, “You know, the least I can do to thank you for coming to my rescue is offer you a glass of wine before you leave…if you’re not in a rush. And there’s plenty of dessert left over from our group’s event if you’d like some. I can promise our sister Caterina’s desserts are worth a try.”

  “That isn’t necessary, but I’m not one to turn down wine and sweets. I have a fondness for both.” He did, but he also had a fondness for intriguing women, and she intrigued him.

  He saw no harm in joining her for a glass of wine and dessert, and doing so would also give him an opportunity to ga
uge if she might be an asset in dealing with his grandfather.

  “Good. I’m Lucia, by the way.” She thrust a hand toward him and he took it. Her palm felt warm, silken, her fingers long, and he wondered what they might feel like if she were to lay them on other parts of his skin. It was a natural reaction. She was a beautiful woman, and he was attracted to her; there was no denying it, but he wouldn’t let a physical attraction get in the way of his plans, no matter how strong.

  “And you are?” Her eyes delved into his and she cocked her head, waiting for an answer.

  Marcella laughed, and he and Lucia both shot her a look before reconnecting.

  “Why, I’m your betrothed, darling.”

  Lucia pinned him with a look of amusement through siren’s eyes that sparkled like black onyx jewels. “And does my betrothed have a name?”

  “He does.” Antonio searched her face, absorbing every nuance, and despite his agenda couldn’t help but be enchanted. “Antonio,” he said, watching for her reaction. “Antonio DeLuca.”

  She blinked as his name must have registered and then her lips parted.

  “Wait.” She gave a slight shake of her head and stared up at him with the same expression of incredulity he might have been wearing if their situation were reversed. “You mean, you’re…then you really are—”

  “Your fiancé,” he finished for her.

  SHE AND ANTONIO had been sitting in the solarium for the last hour, sharing in a little flirtation and a bottle of Seyval Blanc, one from their cellars, and a lovely vintage at that. Lucia held up the bottle and he nodded. She poured them each some more.

  It would be evident to anyone who saw them together they were attracted to each other, but nothing would come of it. They were the proverbial ships in the night, and within days at most, he’d be hoisting his sails, steering a course that would eventually take him home, to another country, another life, and one that had nothing to do with hers. Too bad—she enjoyed his company and wouldn’t mind sharing a bit more of it—perhaps because she knew he was safe, posed no risk to her heart.

  She watched him as he talked about the betrothal contract their grandfathers had drawn up almost thirty years earlier. Watched his expressions, took in the contours of his cheeks and strong jaw, breathed a little heavier over his gorgeous mouth…oh, he was easy on the eyes.

  “They were convinced we were meant to merge our families’ bloodlines.” He shook his head and grinned at her. “I don’t remember your grandfather, just stories, but if he was still alive, I have no doubt they’d be double-teaming us.”

  He swirled his glass and took a sip of wine, rolled it in that gorgeous mouth. “I see by the label it’s one of yours. I wasn’t sure what to expect from Virginia wines, but I like it.”

  “Thank you. Virginia’s putting out some wonderful wines right now, has been for years, but people are just beginning to discover how good. This is one of last year’s vintages. Marcella oversees the wine production, and she knows her stuff. We’ve won a couple of awards.”

  “That’s impressive. What about the rest of you?”

  “We inherited the winery from our parents. They died in a car accident just over three years ago. It’s our primary source of revenue right now, so that’s the main focus, but we’ve each got specialty areas we’d like to utilize more.

  “Caterina’s the chef at Caulfield’s. It’s a restaurant in Ashburn, one of the local towns. She also does catering, mostly here at the winery, but other events when she can.

  “She and Marcella are twins, and the youngest. Cat used to be the sous chef for a five-star restaurant in New York. After our parents died, we weren’t sure what to do about the winery. Marcella and Eliana were the only two still living here at the time, and Eliana was on the road a lot. Marcella was adamant against selling. The winery and the vineyards are her life, the only one she’s ever known, and we all grew up here, so none of us were keen on the idea of selling the family house. We agreed to keep it running on a trial basis, three or four years, to see if we could make a go of it on our own.”

  A lock of hair fell down across Antonio’s forehead. Lucia watched with some fascination as he reached up with long, lean fingers, brushed it back, and resettled his hand on the table. She wanted to reach out, run her own hand over his head, feel the thick, silkiness of his hair wrapping around her fingers, and the desire to do so surprised her.

  The attraction that tugged at her wasn’t natural. It was too strong. It went beyond the physical awareness, and it didn’t make sense to her, the way it seemed to consume her so quickly and completely. She’d never experienced anything like it before, and if she didn’t know he’d be leaving soon, it might give her cause for concern.

  She shifted and crossed her legs, took a moment before continuing. “Eliana left her job with a marketing firm in DC, and now she handles all the marketing and event planning for us. She oversees the wine tastings, too. Marcella didn’t want to be involved with them, even though she’s more knowledgeable than any of us, so she only conducts tastings when she has to; she prefers to talk to vines, not people. Eliana thrives on social interaction, and with her experience in sales and marketing the tastings fit logically under her wing.”

  “And what about you?” He forked a piece of cheesecake from his plate. He popped it into his mouth and then angled his head, watched her.

  Lucia traced the tip of her index finger around the rim of her wine glass. She’d never once imagined what he might look like, be like. In her mind, he hadn’t been real, just a convenient excuse she could whip out as needed. But, here he was, and in the brief time they’d spent talking, they seemed to share an undeniable connection.

  He interested her. And the longer they sat there talking, the more she experienced of him, the stronger her desire to crawl into his lap and taste their Seyval Blanc on his tongue, to see if she could detect the citrus notes lingering on that velvet temptation. It was crazy!

  A dangerous man, indeed…and, of course, she wouldn’t give in to it, despite the unexplainable pull he exerted over her. She didn’t know him, and once he moved on—in a day, two, three, however long—the probability of seeing him again were about as likely as a heat wave in January. Not impossible, but she’d never experienced one in Virginia in her lifetime.

  Lucia uncrossed her legs and cleared her throat. “I used to work at a boutique hotel in New York, but like Cat, I moved back home when we agreed to try to make a go with the winery. Our mom converted the second floor here to guest rooms and opened the inn about fifteen years ago, so that was already established, and since I had hospitality experience, we agreed I’d take that over. I also pinch-hit for Eliana with some of the events she can’t cover, like the one tonight.”

  They chatted for another ten minutes or so. When he finished his second glass of wine, he pushed back from the table and stood up, roughly six-feet-two inches of off-limits male that made Lucia want to cluck her tongue with disappointment over the fact.

  “I should get going. Thanks for the wine and the dessert. It was nice meeting you.”

  Lucia stood as well and stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you too.” They shook, and she half-wished he’d tug her forward—close—to test the waters, to play with the fire. He didn’t. “And thanks again for earlier, with hey babe.”

  “No problem. If I can’t rescue my fiancé from groping drunks, what good am I?”

  They walked outside together, onto the inn’s large, wraparound front porch. Lucia wished they’d had a vacancy, that he could have stayed with them and she might be looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow, just once more, instead of saying goodbye tonight. She’d enjoyed their brief time together and was sorry to see it end.

  “I’m glad you looked us up. If you ever plan to come back to the area, let us know in advance and we’ll hold a room for you.”

  He nodded and then fixed his eyes on hers. Sinfully sexy, cobalt blues under lashes so thick it should have been illegal they belonged to a man. “I feel like
we should hug goodbye. After all, we are engaged.” He opened his arms—an invitation—and Lucia stepped into them without thought, without hesitation.

  She was cautious with men, ever since Brad. Their grandfathers had been like brothers, though. She and Antonio were, in a way, almost family. A brief parting hug seemed appropriate, as appropriate as if she were saying goodbye to any other relative. But it wasn’t brief, and the desire to nuzzle against him was an enticement she never felt when she hugged one of her sisters.

  Antonio tightened his hands on her shoulders and pulled her in closer. His heart beat strong, steady, and hauntingly welcoming where her cheek lay against his chest. To Lucia, it felt like an embrace—more comfortable than she’d expected, more intimate than intended, and sadder than it should because really, it meant nothing.

  The sadness surprised her, that she would feel it so deeply, that a stranger could stir such a reaction within her in such a short amount of time.

  He let her go and Lucia took a couple of steps backward. She wrapped her arms around her waist, missing the physical comfort of him. He was broad, his chest firm, she’d felt the hard muscle of him under his shirt. What woman wouldn’t have felt good leaning into that?

  She cleared her throat. “So, enjoy the rest of your time in the States.”

  “I will try to.” He turned around and walked purposefully away—out of her life—his long legs making quick work of the winding slate walkway that led from the main building to the drive and the large gravel parking area beyond.

  Lucia remained on the porch and watched his car turn out of the winery’s entrance onto Old Sanders Road, until she could no longer see the receding taillights.

  Safe journeys, Antonio DeLuca. Buon viaggio…I think I am going to miss you.

  From wine what sudden friendship springs!

  John Gay,

  “The Squire and His Cur”