He exhaled a ragged breath as he dropped a feather-light kiss to her forehead, reluctant to release her.
“Are you ready to go back inside? I’m afraid if we don’t head back now, I’m going to fuck some good sense into you right here, right now, right up against this wall.”
“As much as I love the idea of throwing my legs around your hips so you could bury yourself inside me, I don’t think I can pull it off in my condition.”
He tucked her arm through his as they made their way inside. “Do you want to have dinner or would you prefer to leave? I can make up an excuse if it would make things easier.”
“I’m okay now,” she told him as he reached for the door. “I’m just going to touch up my face and I’ll meet you in the cellar.”
“Take your time. I’ll wait.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He lifted a reproving brow, yet his grey eyes were bright with bemusement. Grateful for his obstinacy, Hope shot him a small smile, stepping into the ladies room. She entered one of the stalls, grabbed a wad of tissue, and blew her nose as she meandered toward the long line of under-mounted sinks. Wetting the pad of her ring finger, she lightly dabbed beneath her eyes. Her belly rested atop the marble counter as she leaned in close to the mirror fixing any remaining black smudges.
“You okay?” a hushed voice asked from the corner.
Hope jerked with a start; her hand flew to her chest. JC was resting on one of the plush high-back loveseats in the women’s sitting area. “Shit. I didn’t even see you there.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She glanced downward, adjusting a thin pink blanket printed with bright colored ladybugs. Chloe’s little black buckle shoes peeked out from the other end of the blanket.
“Is she sleeping?” Hope whispered, inching closer so she could talk quieter.
“Nah, she’s feeding, and then hopefully she’ll go down for a nap. Her sleep schedule is out of whack due to the time difference.” JC patted the sofa, encouraging Hope to sit. “I hope it doesn’t offend you, but Tracy told us about your situation. I’m so sorry for the loss of your sister and her husband. I can’t imagine how difficult this has to be for you. How far along are you?”
Typically, Hope would accept the sad condolences and excuse herself, but there was something endearing and perceptible about JC that drew her closer. She eased into the high back of the sofa, resting a hand on her stomach. “Thank you. I’m twenty-three weeks.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re so tiny. You look fantastic. How have you been feeling? Did you have any morning sickness?”
“No, thankfully. No morning sickness. Pregnancy-wise I’ve felt great, but it’s a little overwhelming. I hadn’t planned on having children, so I’m at a bit of a loss with what to expect.” Hope tilted her head, peering toward the soft noises coming from under the blanket. “Is that painful? I mean, you’re sitting there so calm and relaxed.”
“These are the most relaxing moments of my days,” JC assured humorously. “Nah, in the beginning it’s a little uncomfortable because your nipples get sore and chaffed, but Chloe’s an efficient little nurser. She latches on well and doesn’t get much air in her tummy, so she doesn’t even spit up very often.”
“How’d you learn all this stuff?” Hope asked in astonishment.
“Most of it comes naturally. My mom’s a big help in that department. Do you plan on nursing?”
“No, no, no. No sore, chaffed nipples for me. Men . . . yes. Baby . . . no,” Hope jeered, shaking her head adamantly.
Chloe squirmed beneath the cover, her wild curly hair popped out as she yanked the cover from her head, showering Hope with a bashful smile. She twisted in her mommy’s arms, hiding her face in the long tresses of her hair. JC unbound her hair from Chloe’s fingers and patted her back a few times.
The baby’s brilliant jade eyes followed Hope as she rose to her feet. She bounced up and down on JC’s lap, clapping her hands and smiling giddily, melting Hope’s heart into a puddle of adoration.
“I don’t think you’re going to be taking that nap your mommy was hoping for.” The baby eagerly lifted her hands to Hope. She extended an index finger and Chloe latched on, panting with excitement. “No, I don’t think you’re tired at all. Oh my gosh, you’re the cutest baby ever.”
“Would you mind holding her for a minute so I can use the restroom?”
“Umm, ah, well, I’m not really good at this.”
Chloe twisted in her mother’s arms, nearly turning upside-down as she held her arms out toward Hope.
“She likes you. I’ll be quick.”
The awkward exchange went better than Hope imagined. She didn’t drop the infant and she wasn’t crying. Chloe happily settled onto Hope’s hip, exchanging smiles. The scents of lavender and her mommy’s perfume clung to her dark springy curls. The baby stroked Hope’s hair as she jabbered on and on, glancing upward occasionally as if making sure Hope was listening to her story.
Stiffness steadily slipped from Hope’s arms, cuddling the extra weight snuggly to her side, swaying from side to side. Chloe made a surprised gasp, her delicate pink lips formed the perfect circle, as if she had just landed the punchline of a joke that only she understood.
“Thanks,” JC said, retrieving the baby after washing her hands. Once settled in her mother’s arms, she began to fuss, leaning and stretching, trying to grab her blanket laying atop her diaper bag on the small sofa.
“She sure loves her blanket.”
“Chloe loves anything with ladybugs. Her nursery is decorated with them and now every time we see anything with a ladybug on it, she thinks it hers.” JC let the blanket float over Chloe’s head and then quickly pulled it away, repeating the movement several times, like a well-rehearsed game, making the baby squeak with joy. JC hiked the strap of the diaper bag over her shoulder, asking as they walked out the door, “Have you already decided on a theme for your nursery?”
The question halted Hope in her tracks. She swallowed against the growing tightness in her throat. “No. I haven’t really even thought about it. I haven’t been able to find a villa suitable for us to live in. I’m ready to buy, there’s just not much selection.”
“That’s right, Tracy mentioned you’re staying in Vincent’s old apartment.” JC laid her hand on Hope’s shoulder with the ease of a feather. “I would never want to butt in—”
“No, please, butt in. I’ll take any advice you can give.”
“You should probably start getting everything you’ll need, crib, changing table, car seat, stroller. That way you’re prepared. Even if you find a place in the next few months, you’ll have everything the baby will need. Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
Hope shook her head. “I have a doctor appointment next week and he’s going to do an ultrasound. Faith would’ve wanted to keep it a surprise.”
Antonio joined the conversation, his fingers easing into the palm of her hand dangling at her side. She glanced in his direction, an appreciative smile brushed her lips. He was right. Hope could honor her sister’s wishes, but she needed to start thinking of this baby as her own.
“But, I’m not really tied to tradition. It might be nice to know ahead of time.”
Chloe inched forward in her mother’s arms, playing peek-a-boo with Antonio, dazzling him with her adorable toothless grin. He extended his hands offering to lighten JC’s load. To her surprise, the little flirt went straight to him, immediately conforming to his chest. Her tiny fingers playing with the top button of his shirt as they headed back to the cellar.
“We’re going shopping the day after tomorrow, you should come with us! I’m in need of a girls’ day and we’ll definitely be hitting some baby stores. My mom simply can’t help herself. She’s the best grandma ever.”
It occurred to Hope that she was in need of help, major help. “Actually, I’d love to go. Maybe you can help me pick out some things I’m going to need.”
Returning to the cellar, Vincent and Tracy
watched with curiosity, seemingly intrigued with Antonio’s new curly-haired friend clinging to his hip. Everyone gathered at a long rectangular table covered in white linens, enjoying a delectable meal. The low murmur of conversations echoed beneath the arched ceiling covered in brick. Chloe stole the evening, winning over each and every one of them as she was passed around the table. Tracy’s family laughed and joked, introducing Hope to a family dynamic she thought only existed in fairytales. No one mentioned her situation except to ask how far along she was and how she was feeling. It was clear by the sadness and empathy lightly furrowed between their brows that Tracy had advised everyone of her state of affairs, and she was thankful not to have the burden of explaining.
Hope was acutely aware of the way Antonio escorted her through the evening, his fingers laced through hers, his hand formed perfectly to the middle of her back, his lips pressed near her temple after whispering in her ear. The fortress she’d built around her heart began to tumble to the ground one brick at a time. His presence was becoming intoxicating and addictive, sumptuous. For the first time in her life, Hope didn’t want it to end. She automatically gravitated to Antonio, moving closer when he spoke, resting her hand on heavily muscled thigh, leaning into his lips when he kissed her temple.
Late in the evening, Hope spotted Antonio out of the corner of her eye. He was leaning over the tall bar top, chin propped on his closed fist, staring at her. A rush of warmth spread through her core. Everything around them, the voices, soft music, and flow of easy laughter, disappeared. A glaze of heat and desire, and an unnamed softness that she couldn’t put her finger on, coated his smoky grey eyes, striking a cord deep inside, a craving so strong it made her knees weak.
His gaze never faltered as he pushed away from the table and strode straight toward her. Hope couldn’t peel her sight from his strong, lean form. She couldn’t even swallow, her heavy breathing thundered right along with her heartbeat. As he approached, she staggered backward until her back bumped against a thick stone column. Antonio twined his hands through hers, raising them upward until the heat of their palms met. Bending, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead, but then moved lower, brushing his lips to the side of her throat.
“Come with me,” he murmured, leading her beyond the tasting area, further into the darkness of the dimly lit cellar.
Hope could feel the collective gaze of everyone in the room, watching as they strolled arm-in-arm past row after row of ginormous barrels of wine. Rounding a barrel, hidden from the others, he captured her around the waist from behind. His hands traversed the front of her body, softly groping and exploring until a faint moan hummed in her throat. The scrape of his unshaven face on the back of her neck raised every hair on her body to a fine needling point.
“I want you so badly.” His quiet, contained roar tickled her ear. The hard length of him jutting against her back. “Fuck, I can’t believe what you do to me. I just want to rip these clothes off your beautiful body and fuck you until you call out for me in that sexy groan you use.”
Hope tilted her head, giving him full access to her neck. Her back arched reflexively, reveling at the stiffness of his cock, she was shaking all over with need. Spinning her to face him, Antonio widening her stance with his leg and slipping his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties. The coolness of the air on her legs tingled her heated skin. A small rogue smile tipped the corners of his mouth, seeming pleased at what he’d found.
“You’re so wet for me.” The last two words came as a possessive growl against her neck.
Mesmerized, she stared at his face, utterly swept away in the moment, dim shadows cast an amber glow on his chiseled features. His eyes wide with hunger, focusing on her reaction as he slid two fingers inside, stroking her inside and out, skating his thumb over her clit.
Hope gasped, her shoulders slumped forward with a jerk, her flesh throbbed around him. “Can’t . . . wait . . . we shouldn’t do this here. My boss.”
He twisted, hunting for her mouth, delivering a barrage of indecent kisses, quieting her complaints as he stroked her open. She held to his flexing bicep, her inner muscles clenching uncontrollably as his fingers circled with accurate precision. He pushed deeper setting a steady wicked rhythm, driving her forward until she shuddered against his shoulder, peaking in jolts of delicious ecstasy.
Slowly, he removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth, an arrogant grin already curling at the corners of his lips.
“I’m never going to be able to walk out there and face everyone,” she panted.
“We’ve only been back here for a few minutes. You’re getting awfully quick.”
Her face scalded with embarrassment. “It’s my hormones.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s my magical fingers.” Antonio kissed her lips as she straightened the hem of her dress. “And in about twenty minutes my magical dick is going to have you screaming out my name. It’s time to go. We’re leaving.”
She followed effortlessly as he led her back to the party, stopping to say their goodbyes, using the excuse that Hope was tired and ready for bed. Both were true.
The car ride back to Antonio’s villa was quiet, each seemed content simply being together. There was no need to force a conversation. But there was something weighing on her mind.
“You and Vincent, do you hang out very often? I got the impression this was the first time in a while that you’d spent time together.”
His profile didn’t waver. “We don’t spend much time together other than work, and even then it’s best to leave a little air between us.”
“How come?”
“It’s nothing,” came the terse reply. “We’re brothers, that’s just how it is for us.”
“I don’t’ understand.” Her gaze lingered, hoping to steal a closer look at his reaction. “You don’t have to discuss it. I just thought it seemed a bit strange since I’ve heard so many fond childhood stories over the years.”
“That was when we were children.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Our relationship became a little rocky after school. And then after my papa passed, it became very strained. We fought about everything, until Tracy came into the picture.”
His vagueness only sparked her interest. “Can you elaborate a little?”
“We had different visions for the vineyard. I wanted to grow and move into the global market, but my brother preferred the idea of staying small and keeping to our heritage, insisting we continue to make wine as it has been done for centuries. We were . . . at odds. We risked the chance of losing everything because of his stubbornness.”
“Obviously, you moved forward into modern technology. What changed his mind?”
“Tracy.” Antonio turned and smiled, resting his hand on her thigh. “I hired her to redesign our entire marketing strategy for the vineyard, knowing that she would side with my theories and idea because I was right. They fell in love and she wound up purchasing the estate that is now the Amore Mio Winery. The combination of the acreage and two estates put us into a position to not only compete, but thrive, in the global market, yet also keep to the old ways. That’s why we have so many options now.”
She approached the next question, delicately. “What happened when you were younger? What drove the wedge between you?”
His jaw turned rigid. “I hurt someone, years ago, someone my brother cared about,” he added poignantly.
“Oh.” It was the only word she could manage.
“We were very young, Vincent had just finished school, and he liked this girl, Sophia. They’d been friends for years, but she had a crush on me. I was an ass and didn’t really give much thought to my brother’s feelings. We’d been dating for a few months—” he paused “—I caught her with another guy, a so-called friend of mine. I saw them kissing. Supposedly, they hadn’t slept together, but deep down I never believed them. A few weeks later I found myself falling into bed with another woman and it ended our relationship. Thinking back, I’m pretty sure that was my goal,
sub-consciously.”
“I cheated on her,” he admitted. The regret in his tone, thick and undeniable. “My brother never really forgave me.”
“We all do things when we’re younger, things we’re not proud of. Why would he hang onto that for so many years?”
His hesitation to respond only spurred her curiosity. She got the distinct impression that Antonio was sharing something he preferred to keep buried beneath the surface like the hidden roots of strong vines growing in the vineyard. Her fingers tangled around the knotted frayed edges of her scarf.
“When we were little boys, my father had many affairs. He would take Vincent and me with him into town to visit his mistresses. We were his alibi, his excuse. My papa, he was a great man, a well-respected winemaker, and a good father, but not such a wonderful husband. Not that he didn’t love my mama, she was the love of his life, but he also showed his affection to other women.” His jaw set sideways. “People in town knew of his affairs, so it was very embarrassing to our family name. And even though my mama loved him beyond words, Vincent and I both hated it, and for years, hated our father for it. For my brother, the break in loyalty inflicted profound damage. It created a lifelong scar that I suspect may never heal.
“Outside of work, Vincent prefers to keep his distance, so we don’t do much together. I think he views my frivolous dating as a betrayal of sorts and refuses to get to know anyone I’ve ever dated. I guess it’s probably best not to get attached . . . or at least that’s what he tells me.”
“That seems a little harsh.” She couldn’t help but think of her sister and wonder if Faith might’ve judged Hope’s ethics on casual flings had she dated men in Seattle.
He gave a frayed sigh, riddled with deep history. “We are brothers, but we live very different lifestyles.”
Hope stared out the windshield. She knew well enough that Antonio had left a long trail of women and heartache in his past. Previously, she’d always been the one who insisted that they date, nothing more, however that was changing.
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