Antonio tucked the tails of his white shirt into his jeans. He snagged his wallet and keys from the bedside table, exited the room, and jogged down the stairs to the first floor of the Hunt and Hound Inn and Tavern.
He’d read in their brochure that a fire destroyed most of the original building in the early 1800s. It was rebuilt shortly afterward but suffered another in the 1920s. The current building had been erected on the same site shortly thereafter, at which time the owners expanded on the original design to include more guest rooms and a larger dining room. The fieldstone walls, large fireplaces, and artwork, all contributed to the sense that one had stepped into the past.
For convenience sake, Antonio decided to have breakfast at the inn’s restaurant. He’d looked over the menu after checking in and found the selection to be quite extensive, the prices very reasonable.
The hostess greeted him immediately and led him into a cozy dining area, seating him at a table next to a massive fireplace. The scent of smoked bacon mingled with that of fresh-baked biscuits, coffee, sweet maple syrup, and his mouth salivated in anticipation.
He scanned the menu, several items tempting him, and after going back and forth a few times, decided on pecan French toast with caramelized bananas and a side of Applewood smoked bacon, neither of which he’d ever had before but was anxious to try.
After giving the server his order, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through the dozen or so new messages for anything requiring his attention.
He’d entrusted the running of his architectural firm to the other two architects on staff, Rick and Maria, both capable of handling any of their projects, but asked them to let him know if anything major came up.
Seeing nothing urgent, he put the phone away and settled back in his chair, the low lighting, soft music, and casual atmosphere of the inn’s tavern infusing him with a sense of calm.
In the six years since he’d started the firm, this was the first time he’d taken any extended time off. He’d worked hard to make it a success, and although he hated being in his debt, especially now, he wouldn’t have been able to do it without his grandfather’s help.
His grandfather had convinced Antonio to let him give him a loan for the start-up. Antonio hadn’t discovered until recently that he’d lent the money under false pretenses. That didn’t change the fact that if he couldn’t get the old man to see reason soon, he could lose everything he’d worked to build.
Antonio frowned. He didn’t plan on letting that happen, and if making a pit stop in Virginia to meet the woman who stood in the way of his financial independence could help his cause, then spending a few extra days in this area to get to know her would be worth it.
He’d always wanted to see more of America, to experience firsthand the country of his birth. After all, although he considered himself Italian, he was also a U.S. citizen.
He’d travelled to Florida every year on holiday to visit with his mother’s family until about the time he turned twelve and his parents had been killed in a freak boating accident off the Florida coast. As an adult he’d returned to attend conferences and to work on a project in upstate New York a couple of years ago. He had an NCARB certificate, which he’d needed for a state to license him, and since the company he’d been working for had told him they might want him to work on something else for them in the DC area, he’d gotten licensed to work in New York as well as the Commonwealth.
Those visits had all been work related though, and he hadn’t had time for sightseeing. Since he’d agreed to his grandfather’s mandate that he come here, he might as well take advantage of what the area offered. DC was a hotbed of museums, including the Museum of Natural History, part of the Smithsonian’s cluster, and the International Spy Museum, which he’d always wanted to visit. If he stuck around a few more days, he could squeeze in one or two.
Perhaps Lucia would go with him to some of the local wineries. She’d know which ones had the best reputations. Afterward, they could get dinner—someplace unhurried, where they could linger over the possibilities the night held. Sharing an intimate meal with a woman was a sensual experience he always enjoyed—good food, good wine, easy conversation—they were aphrodisiacs he never tired of. Throw in Lucia Bonavera and—. It was a recipe for seduction.
Antonio drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Their grandfathers’ agreement meant nothing to him, nothing more than a pact between two lifelong friends—a product of superstition and a bit of wishful thinking.
What person in their right mind would expect him to honor a thirty-year-old agreement that he’d had no say in?
His grandfather.
Not only had the old man insisted he make this detour to meet and try to woo Lucia, he’d maneuvered him into a position that his financial independence could be threatened if he didn’t. He knew his nonno believed what he’d done was for Antonio’s own good, but he was being irrational and nothing Antonio tried had been able to get the man to see reason.
Antonio poured himself more coffee from the carafe the waitress left on the table.
When and if the time came that he fell in love, he would choose his own wife. He had no intention of trying to court the woman; still, he’d agreed to look Lucia up, if for no other reason than to debunk his grandfather’s beliefs. To prove there had been no karma, no kismet, no attraction whatsoever when they met, and fate could not care less if they ever saw each other again.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t completely true. He’d definitely felt an attraction. It was an interesting development, unexpected certainly, but truth be told, she intrigued him.
Antonio finished his meal and exited the restaurant a short while later, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth. Fate might not care if he ever saw Lucia again after meeting her last night, but he wasn’t as anxious to continue on to New York as he’d thought he’d be.
If he stayed a few more days, it would be entirely his choice. He didn’t have a set schedule, and the more he knew about Lucia, the better he could use that knowledge to argue marrying her would be a mistake for both of them. And if he could prove somehow that Lucia was just as dead set against it, then surely his nonno wouldn’t hold Antonio to the agreement he and Lucia’s grandfather made that had him by the balls.
It was a beautiful spring morning, and after eating such a large breakfast, Antonio was in the mood to walk it off and stretch his legs.
The Hunt and Hound was on a quiet side street on the outskirts of the quaint village. He walked down to the main street and headed into town.
Middleburg was steeped in history. Many of the buildings that housed the wide assortment of shops and restaurants, like the inn he’d stayed at last night, displayed plaques identifying them to be on the National Historic Registry. Everywhere he looked he saw something to do with horses, fox, and the hunt. If he’d woken up here and didn’t know where he was, he might think he was in an English village.
He walked under a cherry tree. Its pale pink blossoms sprinkled down around him on the morning breeze, carpeting the brick sidewalk under its umbrella. The town was small and it wasn’t long before he found himself back where he’d started.
When he returned to his room a few minutes later, he noticed the brochure he’d taken from the Bonavera Winery & Guest House the night before laying on the bedside table. He picked it up and leafed through it. As he did, his mind conjured an image of Lucia, the way she’d watched him, humor in her eyes and a smile on her lips as they’d chatted.
He heard the husky timbre of her voice in his head, the way it had resonated along his nerves every time she spoke or laughed…and how much he’d wanted to lean forward to taste the flavor of her words, that laugh…and yes, to feel them vibrate against his tongue as they rolled into his mouth and faded into a kiss. It had been a struggle not to kiss her when she hugged him goodbye.
He tapped the brochure against his other hand, and with only a passing thought about the repercussions, made a change in plans.
LUCIA BUSIED HERSELF straigh
tening magazines, fluffing the floral arrangements, and restocking brochures while she and her sisters waited for Eliana to arrive for their Tuesday morning update and planning meeting.
Cat and Marcella lounged in identical wing chairs flanking the stacked-stone fireplace in the library, arguing over the best romantic comedy ever made. Marcella thought nothing came close to Princess Bride. Cat insisted it was Love Actually. They each had their reasons, and Lucia thought both had valid ones, but she didn’t see the point in debating it. Neither would convince the other to their way of thinking and in her mind they were both great movies, so what did it matter.
If they were dressed alike, and if Marcella cut her waist-brushing hair to match Cat’s sleek shoulder-length bob, and bothered with makeup, her sisters would look like matched bookends. It always amazed her how two people who were so alike in every physical feature could be so different otherwise. But she loved them both the same and appreciated that they were unique in their own ways. Marcella, ever reserved, sensitive, thoughtful, a bohemian child of nature, felt more comfortable in the fields tending her vines or making wine than interacting with people.
Her twin preferred to be wielding a whisk in the kitchen. Caterina was the most exacting person Lucia knew, a creative perfectionist with a flair for the exotic, which she exhibited not only in the presentation of her wonderful dishes, but in her style choices as well.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Eliana blew into the room like a gust of wind whipping down the mountains. The black leather purse slung over her shoulder swung freely, slapping against her hip with each opposing step. Her face, her hands, the tone of her voice, all told their own story. She was energy in motion and could raise the oomph meter in any room just by her presence.
She sat down on one of the three over-stuffed couches that formed a U-shaped seating area facing the wing chairs and the fireplace. Leaning forward, she poured herself a cup of coffee from the Wedgewood china pot that had been their mother’s, and topped it off with a healthy dose of crème fresh.
“Man, you wouldn’t believe the summersaults I had to do to line up Toby Knight and the Chugalug Boys for the fall festival. They’re so hot right now they only had two open weekends before Thanksgiving that they hadn’t committed to, one of them being the weekend of the festival. They had three other requests for gigs that weekend. But—” Eliana flashed them all a huge, beamer of a smile. “I worked my magic and convinced them to book with us. So major score for the Bonaveras!”
She pumped a celebratory fist in the air, took a sip of coffee, and sighed. “Thanks for this, Luch; I was hoping you’d make some. So what did I miss?”
“Nothing but the great rom-com debate,” Lucia informed her, and reached for one of the cranberry-orange scones Cat had made for their meeting.
Eliana sat back and crossed her legs, one of her ankles immediately set to spinning in a circle that wouldn’t stop until she stood back up. “Okay good, so nothing new.”
“Nada,” Lucia assured her.
“I’d like to set up some meetings with a couple of architects next week,” Lucia put forth, getting down to the business at hand. “I know it may be premature since we haven’t checked with the county yet, but it might help when we do to go in with some plans. I checked the calendar and it looks like everyone’s free Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday mornings, so I’ll see what I can arrange during those times.”
They spent about ten more minutes discussing business, and when they were done, Cat zoomed in on Lucia. “Okay, now that that’s settled, what’s this Marcella told me about Antonio DeLuca coming here from Italy to meet you?”
Eliana nearly spilled her coffee in her lap. “What! DeLuca was here? When did this happen? Why am I just hearing that your mythical fiancé showed up to collect you?”
Lucia laughed around the bite of the scone she’d just taken before swallowing it. “He didn’t come to collect me. The real and more boring story is that he came to the States on holiday, and his grandfather asked him to look us up while he was here. He merely stopped in to say hello at the man’s request because he and Nonno Bonavera were so close. He came by, we shared a bottle of wine, a few laughs over our grandfathers’ archaic betrothal contract, and then he left.”
“I can’t believe we all missed him.” Eliana put her cup on the large square table that anchored the seating area and then stood up. “Is he coming back to meet the rest of us? I’m dying to know what he’s like.”
Lucia shook her head. “No, he said he’d probably be leaving today or tomorrow morning to drive to New York. He was hoping to get a room here last night, but with the accountants’ group we didn’t have any availability. Marcella got him one at The Hunt and Hound.”
Eliana swung her head in their sister’s direction. “You met him?”
Marcella curled her mouth into a smile that begged explanation. “Oh yeah, I met him.”
“Annnnd,” Cat prompted, just as curious for details as Eliana.
“And if there’d been a pile of logs in the middle of the lobby, they would have spontaneously burst into flames with the sparks that were flying between the two of them.”
“She’s exaggerating,” Lucia said, her lips twitching. But not by much. There had definitely been some strong chemistry between her and Antonio.
“I’m not exaggerating,” Marcella countered. “You were practically drooling, and he looked like he’d been zapped with a stun gun or something.”
“It must have been so weird to actually meet him when he’s always been this—I don’t know—kind of an imaginary person. He was gorgeous, wasn’t he? I’ll just bet he was, and you couldn’t believe it because you never gave him any real thought and he walked in here last night and he was mouthwatering. I’m right, aren’t I?” Eliana looked between Lucia and Marcella, clearly wanting the scoop.
“Pretty much,” Lucia conceded. “But he was also funny and interesting. It would have been nice to have more time to get to know him a little better…you know, as friends.”
“Yeah, right,” Marcella said. “You wanted to suck tongue with him and you know it.”
“You can be so crude, little sister.”
“Deny, deny, deny.” Marcella looked at the others. “She was all like...why don’t you stay and have some wine?” She batted her lashes. “And dessert, there’s plenty left over. It’s the least I can do to thank you.” She fluttered them some more.
Lucia rolled her eyes, and Cat and Eliana laughed.
“Thank him for what?” Eliana asked.
Marcella told Eliana the story about hey babe, how he’d started off hitting on Cat, then switched his attentions to Lucia, and how Antonio stepped in to come to the rescue when the man persisted.
“So did you really want to suck tongue with him?” Eliana’s eyes gleamed with sisterly interest and a dash of humor.
Lucia ran her teeth over her bottom lip. “Okay,” she confessed. “I’ll admit I felt attracted to him, and I even wondered what it would be like to kiss him, but I also knew I’d never see him again. And you know what they say, sometimes not knowing is better.”
The inn’s phone rang and Eliana, who was closest to the desk, walked over and picked it up.
“Bonavera Winery and Guest House, how may I assist you?” As she listened, her lips curled and her eyes flew to Lucia’s face. “Yes, let me see if she can take your call.”
She put the call on hold and then cocked the handset in the air toward Lucia. Hiking a brow, she said, “It’s Antonio DeLuca. Apparently, his plans have changed. He’s going to be in town a few more days and he’d like to speak with you.”
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I’ll not look for wine.
Ben Jonson,
“Song to Celia”
Oh, there you are, Lucia!”
Lucia turned away from the library’s large fireplace mantle where she’d just placed the two large m
ilk glass vases she’d filled with blue hydrangeas from the garden. She adored the luscious blossoms and couldn’t imagine anyone not being enamored by them.
“Good morning, Mrs. Swan.” Lucia picked up the ones she hadn’t been able to fit into the vases from the coffee table as she walked past it. There were enough to make an arrangement for the reception desk as well.
“What can I do for you this morning?” she asked her guest.
“I want to thank you for everything you did to make last night so special. I thought Carl forgot all about our anniversary, but when we walked into our room, well, I just broke down and cried when I saw what he’d done. He told me he wouldn’t have been able to pull off his surprise without you.”
“I was happy to do it. It’s nice to meet people like you and your husband who are still so much in love after thirty years. I hope I’ll be as fortunate one day.”
“Well,” Mrs. Swan said, her perky voice reminding Lucia of the cheerful house finches that flocked to the feeders by the inn’s side porch. “Carl told me that handsome man you were talking to before we left last night is your fiancé. I couldn’t help but notice the two of you together. You make a stunning couple, and it was obvious you’re smitten with each other.”
“Oh, h-he…w-we,” Lucia stuttered, not sure how to respond. She hadn’t thought about the fact that Carl had overheard the conversation between Antonio and Mr. Riley the prior evening.
Not that it hurt anything for them to believe she and Antonio were really engaged. They’d all be leaving tomorrow, and she wouldn’t want word to get back to Riley it had all been a ruse. When he’d come downstairs and had to walk past the reception desk this morning while she was talking to another guest, he’d looked mortified. She’d given him a friendly wave, as if nothing had happened, but she could tell he felt embarrassed and preferred not to add to his humiliation.
“No need to explain yourself, child. There’s nothing wrong with letting the world know you’re in love.” Mrs. Swan winked at her. “Just look at Carl and me.”
Lucia (The Bonaveras) Page 4