The Italian

by Beverly Preston

  Sentiments stung her nose, edging their way to the corner of her eyes. Antonio brushed away the slip of wetness gathering between his thumb and her cheek. Hope savored the moment with keen awareness that something was changing inside her and it had nothing to do with the baby she carried.

  A trickle of fear chinked down her spine causing her to quiver. The limpness that seeped through her muscles, stiffened.

  I’m losing control. I must be crazy.

  Reacting to her shiver, he rubbed her arms from shoulder to elbow. “I’m right here for you, Hope.”

  “I know.” She let out a quiet sniffle.

  Antonio leaned back, inspecting her features. “I know you’re afraid—” He paused. “—of me. Of this baby. Of this entire situation.”

  “Antonio, I . . .”

  “Having feelings isn’t a weakness. It just means you’re human.”

  “I know,” she lied, averting her gaze to the window.

  “You don’t fool me, Hope.” He curled his finger beneath her chin, bringing her focus back to him. “This is the best I’ve ever had . . . the best I’ve ever felt in my life.”

  A knot of paranoia lodged in her throat, but she forced it down with a hard gulp. “It seems different to you too? I thought maybe—”

  “What? Are you wondering if the sex is so incredible because you’re ridiculously horny because you’re pregnant?”

  She nodded cautiously.

  An arrogant smile tipped the edge of his full lips. “You could give me a little credit.”

  The amusement in his tone eased her lingering trepidation. She remained quiet for a few beats.

  “You need to trust me, bella.”

  “I do trust you, Antonio.”

  “I want you to trust in this. In us.” Antonio took her hand and placed it on his beating chest. He laid his palm over her heart. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  That was the second time he’d said that to her. Hope sifted over his words trying to conclude what exactly I’m not going anywhere meant.

  Opting for the easy way out, she whirred, “I thought you were taking me car shopping?”

  The wrinkles near his eyes deepened as his eyes beaded. “Tomorrow. Today, you’re going to stay in bed and get some rest.”

  “I’m not really tired.”

  “You will be when I get through with you.”

  It took three days for her to come up for air, four to purchase a new metallic-blue Porsche Panamera, and five to admit his Italian definitely came in handy. It was the perfect mix of sleek sports car and luxury sedan with an impeccable safety record, all rolled into one, all thanks of Boxco. Hope happily used every dime of the severance pay she received from Boxco.

  “WOW!” TRACY EXCLAIMED, STEPPING INTO Hope’s office. She leaned over her desk, lowering her nose to take a whiff of a rose. “Umm, these smell divine.”

  “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

  Hope watched Tracy’s expression pique with interest reading the card.

  “Antonio sent you flowers?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tracy’s blue eyes broadened observing five crystal vases filled with dozens of red roses, dotted around the room. “All of these are from Antonio? My brother-in-law, Antonio?”

  “Yes,” Hope chimed. She couldn’t contain her giddy smile or the blush flushing her cheeks. “I told him to stop or my office was going to turn into a floral shop. He’s sent a dozen each day this week.”

  Tracy opened her mouth, but snapped it shut. The disbelief weaving through her delicate features said enough. Shock. Pure shock. She cleared her throat and started again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for your first week. How’d it go? Are you getting settled in?”

  “I had a fantastic week. Everything ran smoothly while you were stateside. We had one little mishap during a wedding yesterday, but it worked out fine.” Hope expanded, “Apparently, one of the neighboring villas has a dog that’s in heat and it decided to run through the ceremony . . . with three males hot on her tail. Literally.”

  Tracy’s eyes clamped shut, her fingers jutted outward in frustration. “Large dog with white and black spots?”

  “Umm hmm. It was fine. We wrangled the female and kept her in the workers’ out-building at the back of the vineyard.”

  “Okay. I’ll go have another talk with Mr. Bianchi.”

  “I handled it,” Hope assured. “After the wedding, one of the workers, Marcello, went with me to translate when I returned the dog. I had the kitchen prepare a yummy Panforte cake to-go and I added a bottle of wine . . . a little bribe of sorts. I don’t think it’ll happen again.”

  Her brows arched, seemingly impressed with Hope’s tactic. “I like that. Kill them with kindness. Great idea.”

  “You can always count on me when there’s a bitch in heat threatening to ruin a wedding.” They laughed in unison. “A few of the guests had already started drinking, so I’m sure there’s a video available, probably with some fantastic commentating, if you want to watch the chaos.”

  “I think I’ll pass. I already have a horrifying visual.” Tracy winked, tucking a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “Oh hey, a bunch of my family is in town and I was hoping you’d join us for dinner tonight.”

  Hope forced a smile of appreciation. Family gatherings weren’t her thing. “Aww, thank you, but—”

  “Please come. My parents will be there, and my sister, JC and her husband Reed, plus my new niece. She’s the cutest baby ever.”

  “Your parents?” she gulped.

  During Hope’s research of the winery, she learned that Tracy’s stepdad was renowned actor, Tom Clemmins, one of Hollywood’s elite. Plus, her sister was often cited by the media as being one of the world’s sexiest women. Several photos hung in Tracy’s office, touting the image of the perfect family.

  “I promise, they’re normal and a lot of fun. They visit all the time, so it’s important to me that you get to know them. Chef is preparing an amazing dinner for us in the cellar.”

  Hope took a deep breath and hiked up her virtual big girl panties. “Okay, yes, of course. I’d love to come. Did you already invite Antonio?”

  Tracy stared at her, wide-eyed, for a full two seconds before responding. “No, actually, I hadn’t.”

  “Would it be okay if I ask him to come?” Hope asked. A ping of caution shot through her gut witnessing the blank look of concern on her boss’s face. “I don’t need to, I just assumed since it’s family—”

  “No, of course you can bring Antonio. It just hasn’t really sunk in that you two are still seeing each other. Not that that matters. It doesn’t make a bit of difference to me,” Tracy stammered, rubbing her earlobe.

  She’d never seen Tracy nervous and she was definitely on edge. Hope pushed away from her desk, her baby bump getting more and more noticeable every day. “Am I missing something?”

  “No. Not at all.” Tracy’s shoulders lifted giving a casual shrug.

  “Are you sure, because it feels like I’ve stepped into the middle of something? I give you my word that it won’t be an issue . . . later.”

  “Obviously, you already know how Antonio . . . is, so there’s no need to warn you.” Wariness sat heavily in her tone. “It’s not really my place to say anything, I’d just hate to see you get hurt.”

  Somewhere inside her words there was an accusation toward Antonio, and it bothered Hope . . . much more than she would’ve ever expected. She was hit with a warm protective feeling, a feeling she didn’t care to dwell on.

  “Antonio and I are cut from the same cloth. He’s been a good friend and we understand each other completely. He’s been here for me when I needed someone.” A grin tipped the corners of her mouth. “Plus, he’s been feeding me every night since I arrived. I’m shocked I haven’t gained twenty pounds already.”

  Tracy stood there, shocked beyond belief, nodding her head in slow motion as if soaking in the circumstances. “Every night, hmm?”

  Unsure of how to
respond, Hope let the comment fall into the empty space between them.

  Tracy waved off her hesitation as if it never happened, a pink glow burnishing the apples of her cheeks. “Sure, of course. It’ll be nice. I can’t remember the last time we had dinner with Antonio. Six o’clock.”

  “It’s great to meet you, Hope,” Tom Clemmins greeted, his distinguished features even more handsome in person than on the big screen. His dark eyes twinkled introducing the gorgeous woman at his side, “This is my wife, Tess.”

  “I probably could’ve recognized you as Tracy’s mother just passing you on the street. She looks just like you. Especially your blue eyes.”

  “Thank you. We’ve been told that a time or two.” Tess smiled warmly, greeting Hope with a brief hug and a kiss to each cheek as they stood at the tasting table made of white marble and reclaimed wood. “They should be here any minute. Tracy’s taking JC and Reed on a quick tour while waiting for Vincent to arrive. JC and Reed weren’t able to travel during her pregnancy, so this is the first time they’ve gotten to see all the amazing work done during renovations.”

  Comforted by the familiar bouquet of charred oak, toasted nuts, pepper, and earthy ripened fruit, tension slipped from her knotted muscles. Antonio briefly removed his hand from the small of her back, acknowledging Tracy’s parents as if they were old friends. He immediately returned his hand to the pre-warmed position, his long fingers splayed across her back, the tips gliding around the dip in her curves. The pressure of his palm sent mixed signals to her brain. Happiness radiated through her, warming her all the way to the bone, but the faint warning inside her brain made it difficult to let go of habitual reservations.

  It was the first time that they’d openly been together in public. And though that wasn’t her intent when she invited him to dinner, Antonio made his possession of her very clear from the moment he picked her up. They’d been out and about to plenty of restaurants, and had been seen by many people he knew, but this was entirely different.

  Antonio was making a statement.

  Tom huddled up beside her, stating matter-of-factly, “I hear that Tuscany just inherited one of the States finest Sommeliers. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. I’m not sure about that, but I’m thrilled to be here.”

  “She’s being modest,” Antonio boasted. “Hope’s one of the best.”

  “I can’t think of a better place to live for a Sommelier,” Tess chimed, curling her arm around her husband’s waist.

  “Tuscany’s like the perfect bottle of wine; lovingly created and carefully aged and the longer you spend contemplating it, the better it gets. My memories always linger here. I probably should’ve moved here years ago.”

  Antonio curled the tips of his fingers into the knit material of her form-fitting burgundy dress, easing her into his side. The entire length of their bodies touched. Fine creases near his temple softened as he flashed her a sultry grin. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear, “Yes, you should have.”

  The steady rhythm of her heart pulsed inside her veins. Hope licked her parched lips and forced a hard swallow.

  “Impress me,” she heard Tom say over the blood-rush in her ears, his deep voice brimming with charm. “What should we drink with dinner?”

  Antonio dropped his hand to her bottom and gave a gentle pat. Hope couldn’t hide her smile as she traipsed toward the far wall covered in row after row of their finest bottles of wine. Hand on hip, she tapped her chin with her index finger, until spotting the perfect bottle of vintage red. Hope poured the deep burgundy liquid into a large clear glass. Holding it by the stem, she swirled, testing the color, opacity, and viscosity, before lifting it to her nose and giving it a good sniff.

  “You’ll have to let me know,” Hope beamed, her hand lulling over her midriff.

  “That must be a little difficult,” Tess stated speculatively. “Not being able to taste wine for so long when you have such a passion for it.”

  “It’s incredibly difficult, but the atmosphere and energy here help make up for the nine months of no tasting.”

  Tom nodded, dazzling her with a wide smile. “I’m impressed. Perfect choice.”

  Happy voices resonated off stone walls, filling the cellar with laughter. Looking over her shoulder, Hope saw Tracy and Vincent making their way down the thick steps cut from slabs of stone, along with her sister’s family. The two women were linked at the elbow, laughing and joking as only sisters could do. Longing gave a little squeeze to her heart, missing the connection she’d shared with her sister.

  Joining the party, everyone passed out hugs and hellos and introductions. At first glance, Hope immediately noticed that JC was much taller than her sister. Her tan complexion and long light brown hair accentuated her jade-green eyes and the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her expressions were vibrant and lively, yet there was a layer of subdued wisdom beneath the beautiful surface. Her husband, Reed, was the tallest man in the room, baring wide shoulders, a southern accent, and a gorgeous smile that would surely leave most women swooning in his wake.

  Hope’s eyes broadened with interest, observing a brief, but cool, greeting between Antonio and his brother Vincent. The air around them was thick with tension. Thinking back, she’d listened to Antonio tell many stories of their colorful childhood and the mischief two boys caused growing up at the vineyard, but he never talked about anything current other than work.

  “Is this your first visit to the winery?” Hope asked JC.

  “I was here a few years ago right after Tracy bought the estate, but this is the first time we’ve seen it since the restorations.” JC turned her attention to the baby girl clinging to her hip, talking in sweet coos, “We couldn’t come visit Aunt Tracy and Uncle Vincent because of you, huh Chloe?”

  The baby released a slobbery fist from her mouth and squealed in delight, pumping her chunky arms and legs, excited to hear her mommy’s praises. Hope’s eyes were drawn to the little girl as she gummed her fingers, her delicate pink lips covered in drool. Chloe bore the same brilliant green eyes as her mother and the dark mink curls poking out from every angle matched her father’s brown hair.

  Gut-wrenching heartache burned a hole straight through Hope’s chest. She blinked back the sentiment pooling at her lashes.

  “’Scuse me, I need to use the restroom,” Hope mumbled, cutting toward the stairs.

  “I remember those days,” JC sympathized. “Never ending full bladder.”

  The cellar was no more than a blur as she hastily made her way through the stone corridor. The pounding of her heart drowned out her footsteps as she charged up the stairs. It felt as if the whole building had collapsed on top of her, the dull painful throb traveled all the way to her toes. Reaching the last step, she felt Antonio’s fingers twine through hers. He attempted to pull her into his embrace, but she was too far gone. Trapped in the onslaught of emotions, she moved cagily, pushing at his chest, trying to get away, away from the deluge of hurt and pain flooding her heart.

  Antonio refused to relinquish her hand. Moving quickly, he ushered her through a door and out into the cool night air. Only then did he release her hand, letting her set the pace, propelling herself past the dormant gardens toward the shadows at the far end of the property.

  Silk dressed her arms as Antonio draped his suit jacket over her shoulders, pulling her into his embrace. “Shhh, it’s okay, bella. I got you. It’s okay.”

  Trembling from head to toe, she eased into the hard confines of his body, just breathing in and out, the scent of his cologne calming her nerves. Antonio swayed with her, gently caressing and pressing and stroking her arms and face and hair. They stayed that way for minutes.

  “Tell me,” he paused, pressing his lips to her hair. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do. Talk to me, Hope.”

  “It’s just . . . Tracy reminds me a little bit of Faith.” Wiping the remaining wetness from her eyes, she leaned her
back against the rock wall. Cold air nipped at her damp cheeks. “Seeing her and JC together . . . reminded me of me and Faith. And then . . . that baby, Chloe, she’s so stinkin’ adorable, but . . .” Her chin quivered.

  “Go on.”

  “She has her mommy’s eyes and her daddy’s dark hair.”

  “Makes you wonder what your baby’s going to look like?”

  “This isn’t my baby, Antonio,” she snapped.

  Dipping his head, he slipped a finger beneath her jaw, angling her face toward the moonlight. “This is your baby. Maybe not genetically, but this baby is yours. And the sooner you start acknowledging that, the sooner you can move forward. You’re so worried about disappointing your sister—” apprehension laced his tone. “—you’re going to be a wonderful mother, Hope, but you need to raise this baby how you want. Not how you think you’re supposed to.”

  “I didn’t want it, remember? Just like my mother didn’t want me. How am I going to be any different than her?”

  Moon cast upon his features, severe and stern, in a golden ray of light. “Because, whether you’re ready to admit it or not, you already love this baby. Your smile lights up like Christmas morning when you talk about it. You love caressing your belly, you hum and sing to it—”

  Her throat was suddenly as dry as the desert. “I do not.”

  “Yes, you do. You love this baby. And I don’t know anything about what kind of person your mother was, but you are an amazing woman, Hope Tidwell. You’re the best woman I’ve ever known. I saw the way you looked at that baby inside; you’re a big softie.”

  His words touched her deeply.

  “I am not soft.” There was no conviction left in her voice, all that remained was a tender whisper.

  “Yes, you are.” The palm of his hand coasted over the slope of her breast as he dragged a sweet kiss from one side of her lips to the other.

  “Am not,” she lied, right before sinking her tongue into the warm demand of his mouth.

  The long, slow kiss went on and on with toe-curling determination, erasing every concern in her mind. His hands gripped her upper arms, the trembling of his muscles vibrated through her. She reveled in the firm imprint of his fingertips sinking through the layers of fine textures of his jacket.