They both remained unusually quiet, buried in their thoughts, as they walked to the car. Hope wanted to say things to Antonio, things she’d never said before. Things that scared her to death, but also made her heart soar.
“Please tell me that whatever we’re doing today doesn’t include visiting another one of your old girlfriends?”
“Stop,” he laughed, collecting her hand in his. “It’s just you and me today.”
Walking out of her apartment, Hope smoothed her hands over the coral print dress. Antonio had dropped her off earlier that morning, stating he had a few errands to run. It was the first time in weeks she’d spent more than an hour there and she was ready to leave five minutes after arriving. She managed to get in a much-needed nap and sort through the overflow of baby items creeping out into the living room, before he returned.
Making their way to the parking lot, her heels clipped along the walkway. A smirk lurked along the slope of his smile.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous.” She lied, kind of. The creases near his eyes deepened, his smile pulled wide. Hope began to ramble on self-consciously. “I don’t even know how you’ve managed to find new women to date over the years.”
“Excuse me?”
“Everywhere we go, we run into women you’ve dated. I mean . . . you’ve probably worn out a two hundred-mile radius. If you factor in the fact that some are too old, too young, married—”
“For one,” his eyes bulged. “I’m not really worried about it, and we’ve never run into women I’ve dated.”
“Oh, yes we have.” Her voice rose a few octaves. She was panting and trembling. In a flash, she’d worked herself into a jealous hot mess, for the second time in a week. “I know the look they wear, the walk of shame mixed with I’d like to chop his balls off.”
Baffled by her small outburst, Antonio stared at her like she’d lost her mind.
“Believe me, I’m good at recognizing all the signs. I’d say we’ve probably run into at least five women you’ve dated.” Hope shrugged, acting as if it didn’t bother her. “If you gathered up all the wineries that I’ve visited into one small city, I’d get a lot of glares too.”
“Stop! Please.” He halted in the middle of the walkway, cupping her face in the palm of his hands. “I don’t like thinking about all the vineyards you’ve visited. It makes me want to rip somebody’s head off. Especially that guy in Australia.”
Hope squirmed in the spotlight. Realizing that Antonio’s breathing wasn’t any better than hers, she admitted honestly, “He was nothing, Antonio.”
“Damn right.”
“How did you—”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Hope. Let’s just say not every man you’ve been with knows how to act like a gentleman. I made sure he’d never open his fucking mouth again.”
“You did?” she gasped.
His glare softened, ironing out the deep crevice notched between his brows. “Umm hmm. We got into a little . . . altercation. Threatened to kill the bastard, plus I got kicked out of one of my favorite restaurants in Australia.”
A warm, fervent sensation flooded over her, spiking the fine hair covering her arms. Her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn’t particularly shocked by his show of protectiveness, but the pleasant feelings of satisfaction tickling her tummy, did. Hope ventured to her toes and presented a sweet kiss to his mouth, holding until the rigidness eased from his lips and he returned her affection.
They continued walking arm-in-arm. Hope sighed, “Maybe we’re both just a tad bit possessive.”
“I have a remedy for your possessive streak.”
“You do? Let’s hear it.”
Extending a hand, Antonio assisted her into one of the vineyard’s golf carts. He carefully surveyed her emotions. “You’re not ready to hear my solution.”
She scoffed at first, but realized he was sincere. “How do you . . . why would you say that?”
Forearms resting on the hood of the cart, he lowered his head inside. A light dusting of dark hair visible from the open neck of his midnight-blue shirt. “Because I know you. How about if we just get on with our day, okay? Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
Color mounted on the bridge of his nose, spreading to his cheeks. “And you’re right. We have crossed paths with a few women I’ve dated, but I’ve never slept with Liliana. I wouldn’t have taken you there for yoga if I had. However, I did date her older sister,” he admitted, making an awkward, almost painful, face.
His grimace made her smile. He hated being wrong or being called out as much as she did. “I knew I was right, but thank you for telling me.”
Antonio climbed behind the wheel and put the cart in drive. Cocooned in the scent of leather and the Tuscan sun streaming through the windshield, Hope was thankful that he understood her well enough not to push, yet she wondered what his solution would be. One thing she knew for certain, there was no place else she wanted to be.
Sunshine heated her bare arms and legs as they drove along an unpaved road that followed the edge of the Giovanni estate. Off in the distance, the dull, dormant fields had come to life turning bright green. Hope had never ventured this far away from the vineyard. The stunning views held her attention until she saw an old stone farmhouse nestled at the crest of the hillside. The front porch was weathered beyond repair, but the rest of the small building was still intact.
“What is this place?” she asked in awe, immediately exiting the cart when he stopped.
“Originally, I believe it was used to house shepherds and animals, but my papa used to have his friends here.”
Hope’s face soured a bit.
“Not girlfriends. His friends, men from the village and other vineyard owners, would come to play poker.”
“Ah.” Placing her hand on the thick piece of vertical timber that would’ve held a door, she peered inside the open room. “This place is amazing, Antonio. You should fix it up. Have private wine tasting events here.”
She heard him murmur some sort of promise about a private tasting.
“It’s quite enchanting.”
“You’re quite enchanting,” he said in a low hypnotic voice.
Hope turned to face him. Antonio leaned against a wooden column, legs crossed at the ankles, and hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his dark jeans. A two-day scruff shined like silk in the sunlight. He stared at her like he wanted to eat her alive. Her heart jumped inside her chest sending a tremor down her spine. He’s too damn sexy for his own good.
“Come here, bella.”
Slowly, she sauntered toward him. Antonio reached for her, gathering her in his strong arms. The baby was beginning to hinder their full-body embrace, so Hope looped an arm around his neck and molded to his side. He fisted a hand into her dress at the small of her back, cinching the knit material, exposing her butt cheeks to the warm sun.
“Mmmm, you smell so good,” he purred against her neck. The slow burn of his breath covered her in goose bumps as he dragged his lips along the underside of her jaw.
A faint moan swelled in her chest, disintegrating into a throaty sigh. She could tell by the firm pressure of his hands, he was in a dominating mood.
“I love your new dress.” His free hand ventured lower, squeezing an exposed cheek. “You might need a new one by the end of the day.”
“That might make for an embarrassing ride back to the vineyard.”
“I want to show you something.” A sexy grin enveloped his entire face sending tingles of happiness to every nerve ending in her body.
One hand on her elbow, the other resting on the small of her back, Antonio led her around the building. Hope peered downward, watching her footing as they walked along an uneven pathway made of cobblestone, bordered with a stockpile of old firewood and tall grass.
“Hope.”
The slow drawl in h
is voice pulled her eyes up from the ground. Her attention was instantly captured by the magnificent view on the other side of the farmhouse. Miles and miles of gorgeous Tuscan countryside, rolling hills and valleys painted with vivid red poppies and dramatic yellow flowers in bloom.
“Whoa. Antonio, this is beautiful.” Her gaze stole to a small table and chairs dressed in white linens, topped with fine china, and a silver ice bucket. A picnic basket the winery packed for guests for day outings rested on a chair. She could feel her pulse throbbing at the side of her neck. Her mouth opened and closed, momentarily robbed of words. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?”
“Si’.” His tone was soft and sexy. “I thought we’d have a private tasting.”
She’d enjoyed extravagant meals and fine wines from around the globe, but none of them compared to the view, and the man, before her. No one had ever done anything so romantic for her. Not even remotely close. Antonio watched her stroll to the table and lift one of several clear, long-neck bottles chilling in the bucket. Wiping her thumb over the frosty glass, she questioned softly, “Is this wine?”
A red hue burnished the bridge of his nose. “It’s cider. I know how much you miss wine tasting so I thought I’d put together a few different blends. They’re all organic and fresh. I thought it might be fun.”
A small dose of vulnerability pushed along the frayed edges of her heart. Since she’d arrived in Italy, it felt as though something inside her had begun to unravel, but the ends of the strings were still tied in impassable knots. She’d never been so happy, yet those very sentiments triggered a feeling of weakness.
Forcing the confusion from her brows, she grimaced a bit, before a self-conscious smile tipped the corners of her mouth. She couldn’t see his face, but felt his stare. “Antonio—”
“Bella, it’s just dinner. Don’t panic.”
A shaky breath of laughter rattled her chest. It was a relief and a curse to have someone understand your thoughts so intimately. His sensual grin eased her angst. Antonio pulled back a chair, encouraging her to sit as he retrieved a napkin from the table. He dangled the white cloth from his fingers, wiggling his brow. “Shall we make this a little more interesting?”
Hope stilled in her seat, sitting taller, her belly resting on her thighs. Graphic images flashed through her mind, thinking back to more than one erotic evening when he’d blindfolded her and tied her to his bed. Her hand subconsciously lulled over her baby bump. Guilt rose to the surface. She really wanted him to blindfold her, but it just seemed incredibly wrong to indulge while pregnant.
Gnawing on her thumbnail, she made a face. “Is it bad that I want to say yes? Fuck, I want to wear that . . . I mean I really want to wear that, but I feel kind of weird about it.”
He twisted his head averting his haughty smile, but she still saw the whites of his teeth. “I was thinking you would wear it while tasting the ciders, but I’ve got zero problems with you wearing it later.”
Hope forced a swallow. She knew her face flushed cherry red, but she didn’t care. Angling her chin upward, she closed her eyes, pressing the soft pads of her fingers to the fabric as he tied it at the back of her nape.
“You’re definitely wearing this later. I’ll just have to—” He bent, the heat of his breath tickling her ear when he whispered, “—fuck you a bit sweeter.”
Her open palms slammed upon the table, fingers spread wide, holding on as a spasm rippled through her center. She panted, “That sounds fair.”
A wicked laugh reverberated against her neck. She could feel the curve of his smile. “There won’t be one thing fair about it, but you won’t be complaining.”
Hope relaxed, soaking up the warm rays of sunshine as he poured several varied blends of cider. Pinching the stem of the glass between finger and thumb, she swirled and sniffed and tasted each concoction, noting the type of fruit. Taking full advantage of her impaired sight, he teased and taunted her, delicately stroking his hand or brushing the scruff of his beard over her skin when he leaned into her ear. After twenty minutes of sheer sensual torture, her hearing began to adapt to his movements.
“Eleven out of twelve. Pretty good.”
Her lip curled, clearly displaying her irritancy for anything short of perfection. “I would’ve been twelve for twelve, but the smell of warm bread and some other yummy elusive aroma coming from the basket is throwing me off.”
“Open your mouth.” His tone sent a pleasant shiver through her.
Obliging his request, she opened. He placed the piece of bread soaked in red sauce on her tongue, sending her stomach to pasta heaven. Detecting his presence at her side, the heat of the day blocked by his frame, Hope grabbed hold of his open vest and tugged his mouth to hers, kissing him passionately.
They enjoyed the fresh fare of wild berries and a traditional dinner of spaghetti and meatballs before relocating to a large quilt spread out just beneath the crest of the hillside. The gorgeous view was only magnified by the perfect weather. Hope loved the responsibilities of her new job title, but her body needed to adjust to spending more time on her computer. The warmth of the sun and the sounds of outdoors soothed the tensions from her shoulders and neck.
As the sun began its daily descent toward the horizon, Antonio retrieved a cooler packed with dry ice and her favorite gelato. They shared a spoon, each one taking turns feeding the other, indulging in the exquisite silky goodness.
“I’m stuffed.” Hope shook her head, declining a spoonful of creamy deliciousness. Pillows propped behind her back, she lay halfway on her side, hands tucked beneath her head as a make-shift pillow.
“Hope,” he said, the timbre in his tone drew her attention. “I want more.”
“More? You are my hero,” she teased. Her feet were crossed at the ankles, turning small relaxed circles. “I wish I could eat more, but I’m stuffed.”
Setting the half-empty container at the edge of the blanket, Antonio lay beside her, supporting his head on the palm of his hand. He trailed the tip of his index finger along the pale delicate skin of the inside of her arm. “I’m not referring to the gelato.”
Her feet stopped mid rotation, her breath caught in her chest. After a few beats, she dared to slide him a small glance.
“I want more of this . . . of us.” The words seeped from his gorgeous lips with ease, but the glow of the setting sun exposed the significance in his taut jaw.
Her chest rose as she pulled in a big breath of air, filling her lungs. The blood pulsing through her veins throbbed at the side of her neck. His gaze drifted over her features, patiently waiting for her response. The baby gave a quick, sharp kick to her ribs as if giving her a prod, insisting Hope answer.
“Antonio, you know I’m not good at this stuff. Can’t we just enjoy each other without the pressures of what comes next? Can’t we just be, instead of being what’s expected?”
Antonio looked slightly amused, but determination and mischief flickered in his grey eyes, seeming to relish in her candor. He’d prepared for this, every bit of it. He knew exactly how to read her every move.
Deep down inside she wanted more, she was just afraid to say it out loud.
And he damn well knew it.
“We are just being. And there’s nothing about our relationship that’s predictable. I think that’s what makes us so . . . unique.”
Her focus darted around the dreamy secluded backdrop surrounding them. “You should be so proud of me. Seriously. I mean, you bring me here to this ultra-romantic spot, and I didn’t even freak out. Not even a little bit.”
“I’m incredibly proud of you for many reasons.” The tips of his fingers swept along her collarbone, lazily dipping to the slope between her breasts.
She started to ramble, “The breathtaking panoramic view, the delicious meal, my favorite dessert—” She paused to breathe, daring to plant an accepting kiss to the tip of scruffy cheek. “This definitely constitutes as one of my fondest memories we’ve ever made.”
A slow smil
e crossed his mouth. Antonio appeared satisfied with her response, as if he’d expected nothing different.
He pressed his lips to hers. “I never want to stop making memories with you.”
CLIMBING OUT OF HIS BED the next morning, Hope blushed spotting the folded napkin on his bedside table. Antonio had left for work just as the sun began to rise. He had an all-day meeting with Vincent in the fields, monitoring the grapes’ development and characteristics.
Hope showered and got ready for her day. Excitement gathered in the pit of her stomach. Being a Master Sommelier wasn’t just about the tasting of wine, though it’s certainly the biggest element. Aside from assisting patrons with finding the perfect glass of wine for their meal or couples selecting the appropriate wine list for their wedding party, one of Hope’s favorite responsibilities was being able to assist Tracy with financial management of their products.
Riding the cusp between spring and summer meant harvest season was only a few short months away. Several large tastings were already scheduled for the month of June, one in particular would bring wine vendors from around the world. She and Tracy spent the entire day going over pricing, purchasing and sales. For years, Hope studied the evolution of regions, and sub-regions, the districts and villages, and why certain years were better than others. It felt amazing to share her knowledge of the industry with Tracy.
“God, I’m so glad you decided to make Amore Mio Winery your home,” Tracy informed, blurry eyed from behind her desk. “I can’t believe how much I still don’t know about wine.”
“It can be very overwhelming,” Hope agreed, her soft laughter faded to a sigh, thinking of Antonio. “I’m so glad to be here.”
Tracy snickered a bit, shutting down her computer.
“What’s so funny?” Hope asked.
Tracy’s shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. A giddy grin painted her lips. “Antonio made that same dreamy sound when we talked about you the other day.”
“He talked about me?”
“He mentioned that he’s going to be with you during the delivery.”
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