You Had Me at Merlot

by Lisa Dickenson

  ‘As long as you didn’t need me to be your backing dancer, I’d be out of there.’

  ‘And what if I did?’

  ‘If that’s what it takes for you to agree to be my girlfriend, I’ll get my leg-warmers.’

  This girlfriend thing. It was all in jest, just a bit of fun. All this talk about decorating his house and spending years together was just silly, schmaltzy stuff. We lived in different countries, for crying out loud. But despite that, I’d never wanted to be someone’s girlfriend this much, and it scared me. I couldn’t fall in love, my heart didn’t even know what that was. It would very possibly have a heart attack.

  Jamie leant forward, his dark eyes twinkling as they looked into mine, that smile playing across his stubbled face. ‘I’m just saying, if loving is what you think you might now want – and to me you’ve opened up a lot since I first ran into you in the hall a week ago – I’m here. Make me your man.’

  I demurred from staying at Jamie’s again that night, and as I lay awake in my room I wondered what I was waiting for, why I was holding back. The clock was ticking on this holiday, and I felt closer to Jamie than I had with any man for a long time. It was time to give in to myself and stop being so stubborn, stop hanging on to these cynical feelings I’d harboured when we first boarded the plane. It was okay to fall for someone, even if I’d told people I wouldn’t in a million years. Even if I’d told myself.

  I rolled onto my side and punched my pillow. Hurry up, morning.

  Thanks to my sleepless night, I ended up snoozing a fair way into the morning, and when I woke up Laurie was not only in my room, but spooning me.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, bleary-eyed.

  She blinked awake. ‘I stayed in Jon’s room last night, then came back this morning, but came in the wrong room – you should lock your door, by the way. I saw you snoozing and it looked comfortable. I didn’t get a lot of sleep.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  ‘Was Jamie here?’ She sat bolt upright and peeped under the covers.

  ‘No, my brain was just whirring. What are we all doing today?’

  ‘Nothing until this afternoon, then it’s some activity to do with … something. Can you believe we have to leave in just three nights?’

  ‘Is that it?’ I sat up too, and craned my neck to look out the window. There he was, in the distance, working away.

  ‘He’s a hottie. And I think he’s really good for you.’ Laurie snuggled back down under the covers.

  ‘No, you need to really punch towards the ground. Like, one-two-three HEAD TOSS four-five-six.’

  ‘Am I doing spaghetti arms, like they go on about on Strictly Come Dancing?’

  ‘Yes, you need more sass.’ There was a knock on my bedroom door, interrupting the ‘Single Ladies’ dance workshop I was holding for Laurie. ‘Come in,’ I called.

  Donna popped her head around the corner. ‘I just wondered if anyone fancied going for a jog?’

  ‘Donna! Christ, no!’

  ‘We’re already on the chilli wine and homemade chocolate – you should join us instead of this running nonsense,’ said Laurie, one hand clutching her wine glass and the other in the air, waving about her lack of ring on it.

  ‘I just thought a bit of exercise would be good.’

  ‘We’re working out too. Elle’s teaching me some Beyoncé. Join us!’

  Half an hour later and we were all wearing heels and gyrating fiercely with mouthfuls of chocolate. There was another knock at the door.

  ‘This is why it took me eight years to learn: bloody life kept getting in the way.’ I tottered to the door and opened it to see Jamie standing there, holding his iPad and grinning like he was the one lucky enough to be dancing to Beyoncé in the middle of the day. ‘Hello! Come on in, I’m just giving these ladies a try of a certain future-award-winning chilli wine.’

  ‘You are? What do you think?’

  ‘I hear Elle got a fiancé just from drinking a few glasses, so this bottle’s mine,’ said Laurie.

  ‘Let me know when you run out and I’ll get you some more. As much as you like. Ladies, guess what?’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘We’ve had eighteen new bookings since yesterday. Can you believe it? And several orders for cases of wine from London. This is thanks to you guys.’ He turned to me. ‘Thanks to you, mainly.’

  ‘That’s brilliant!’

  ‘I’m just amazed by you. Have I mentioned that? How come you’re this nice to me?’ he asked quietly, while the others edged closer so they could hear him better.

  ‘I don’t know. I think I might like you a little bit. I think I might just want to make sure you’re happy.’

  I was vaguely aware of Donna and Laurie softly humming ‘Kiss the Girl’ from The Little Mermaid.

  We studied one another’s faces for a moment, and I swear my whole body was blushing under my clothes; there was certainly some kind of heat radiating between us. I couldn’t wait to climb back on to him, and it was a nice, unfamiliar feeling to think he felt the same. Jamie took a deep breath and bent down to give me a small, sweet kiss. ‘Will you come over later and let me cook for you?’

  I nodded. I didn’t think I’d be sleeping back here tonight.

  I hovered outside Jamie’s house in the setting sun for probably close to ten minutes. Just leaning against the wall, soundless, trying to play down the significance in my own mind about what this evening held.

  It really wasn’t that big a deal. People have sex all the time. There were people having sex right now around the world, maybe even elsewhere in Tuscany, somewhere on those hills that I was looking at. In fact, maybe someone else was doing it right here at the vineyard. They would have just shown their bodies to each other for the first time as well. We were all in the same naked boat.

  And it can’t have changed; the fundamentals, I mean. There may be new trends and fashions I’m not quite up to speed with, but the overall beginning, middle and end weren’t rocket science.

  But biology was only part of the worry. What about the chemistry? What if he didn’t fancy me? I look kind of awkward without my clothes on. I look more like I’m about to go dancing around Stonehenge at midnight than like a Victoria’s Secret model.

  And what if I became utterly overwhelmed and made cringeworthy noises and Enzo started barking, or what if I burst into tears at the end? Maybe this was all just not worth it. My mind was taking some battering with all these what-ifs, but my body held out, staying strong and not running away.

  An aroma wafted out through Jamie’s kitchen window, seeping into my consciousness. I smelt rosemary, wine, olives, and my stomach growled in appreciation. Before I knew it, my feet had led me to the door, and I knocked and walked in.

  ‘Finally.’ Jamie grinned, putting the pot he’d been holding next to the window back on the stove. ‘I thought you were never coming in.’

  How embarrassing. I accepted a (large) glass of wine and pulled up a seat to watch him cook.

  ‘What are we having?’

  ‘Pollo alla cacciatora. It’s a chicken stew made with herbs and olives and tomatoes and Chianti. I didn’t think you’d had enough wine this holiday.’

  ‘It sounds delicious.’ My stomach growled again.

  ‘That was a hungry noise. Here, nibble on these. There’s no reason a starter shouldn’t be eaten while we’re still preparing the main.’ He laid out a platter of antipasti in front of me, with thin folds of Parma ham, slices of cheeses, breadsticks, baby artichokes and marinated aubergine chunks. I tucked in.

  ‘Did you teach your dad to cook, or did he teach you?’

  ‘Actually my grandmother taught us all – it’s quite stereotypically Italian, hey? We could all make the basics, but when we started You Had Me at Merlot she came over, told us our cooking was awful and made us prepare her recipes over and over until we got them right.’

  ‘She did a good job – your dad makes amazing food, and this looks so good I want to eat it right from
the pan, ready or not.’

  ‘Thank you! Do you cook?’

  ‘No, I don’t really have time. And as you can tell, I’m a little impatient; I don’t usually wait for things to be properly cooked before I’m stuffing them in.’ I made myself sound so attractive.

  ‘Do I need to distract you this evening, to keep you busy while we’re waiting?’ He turned to me and folded his arms, a smile playing across his face and a tea towel slung over his shoulder.

  I couldn’t think of a clever, saucy comeback off the top of my head, so instead raised my eyebrows and pursed my lips, which probably made me look more matron than temptress.

  Jamie crossed the small kitchen and reached down to cup my face, his fingers causing shivers as they brushed against the back of my neck. He kissed me, and I sank into him. This man …

  ‘You know,’ he said, parting from me to go and stir the pot. ‘I really don’t want to stop kissing you.’

  ‘But you don’t want to ruin dinner.’ Priorities.

  ‘I don’t just mean now, I mean in general. I don’t want you to leave. And I really would like to call you my girlfriend – I’m not teasing.’

  I drank some wine. This was it: was I ready to be a girlfriend, even with all this geography in between us? I think I was. I had to be brave; if the past few days had taught me anything it was not to let life pass me by like a scaredy cat.

  ‘I think …’ I said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘That it might be quite nice …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Tobeyourgirlfriendplease.’

  ‘Did I hear that right? Did you say you’d be my girlfriend?’

  ‘If you’re sure you want me to be.’

  ‘Of course I do!’

  It was going to be very embarrassing telling the ladies that I had a boyfriend – it made me feel about fourteen years old. It annoyed me to think they’d be all ‘We knew you wanted a boyfriend reeeeally’, not understanding the circumstances that had led me here. I didn’t want to talk about it because it made me squirm, so instead I got up and shushed him with a kiss. He tasted delicious, and I hungrily ran my hands up his back and into his hair. This man was mine now; I could explore this neck, this face, this hair with freedom.

  He swung me around so happily it lifted me off my feet, and then placed me back down at the table. ‘I hate to break apart from you, but dinner’s ready.’

  Knowing what was to follow dinner, even though it was unspoken, meant we ate in nervous near-silence, rushing the scrumptious meal, eager to get back into one another’s personal space. I looked around the little house, my eyes falling on a pretty stained-glass panel in the corner of one of the windows, above a comfy chair. I was about to ask him about it when he ran a hand along my thigh, startling me.

  ‘Would you like more wine?’

  ‘Sure.’ But before he could get up to reach for the bottle I clamped my hand down on his, pressing it to my leg, not wanting him to take it away. He leaned over and kissed me again, tenderly, and when I finally took my hand off his he moved it ever so slightly higher.

  ‘I can’t remember how to do sex!’ I squeaked, immediately throwing a hand over my untrustworthy mouth. How come I got lumped with being the least sexy girl in the world?

  ‘I bet that’s not true. Shall we do a test?’

  ‘Yes! No! What do you want to do?’

  ‘Well …’ He looked around the room, his hand still burning on my thigh. ‘Part of me wants to finish off where we left off at that wall. Another part of me wants to put you back in my bed, where you looked so beautiful the other morning.’

  My mouth was dry and I reached for my wine, a big old Nervous Nellie. ‘Maybe we could have some dessert first?’

  ‘Sure. I have some frozen grapes and chocolate.’

  ‘Yes please.’ Okay, I really needed to be more confident. There was no way I was coming off as a bombshell with all this quivering.

  Sexy, confident, provocative. I could be those things. I placed a frozen grape into my mouth and bit down slowly, my teeth bared, only for it to shoot straight out and hit him on the shoulder.

  ‘God, sorry.’

  ‘No problem.’

  I should face facts that I really couldn’t be those things. This time I ate one like a normal person, and when I bit in the sweetness burst around my mouth.

  ‘Follow it with a bit of chocolate,’ he said.

  I did, and the sensation was similar to that with the chilli wine, but this time rather than fire and mellowness there was sweetness and cream. I took my time munching on several more of each, putting off the inevitable even though part of me found the wait excruciating.

  ‘All right, if I see you make that “yummy” face one more time when you eat that chocolate, I’m going to be jealous.’ Jamie grinned and pushed it aside, replacing it with his lips, which I gladly accepted. If there’s one thing in the world I’d exchange chocolate for, I now knew what it was.

  ‘You’re more yummy than chocolate,’ I said through the minute gaps between our mouths.

  ‘So are you.’

  ‘Mmmmm – ooo!’ Jamie lifted me from my chair and carried me to the bed where he sat down, placing me on his lap, his head level with my neck. My breasts were heaving – like actually heaving – as if I was some kind of extra on The Tudors.

  ‘Speak Italian to me,’ I breathed.

  ‘Um, buenosero, gelato, linguine alla carbonara …’

  ‘That’s not quite what I meant.’

  ‘I’m trying to think of words you know, otherwise you won’t know what I’m saying, and that’s rude,’ he said sliding down the straps of my dress and trailing kisses along my shoulders beside my bra straps.

  ‘It doesn’t matter if I know it; it’s just hot when you speak Italian.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Stringiamci a coorte, siam pronti alla morte—’

  ‘Hang on,’ I said, just as he was about to pull down a bra strap and all hell (well, my left breast) was about to break loose. ‘Morte? Isn’t that “die”? What are you saying?’

  ‘I couldn’t think of anything, I’m a little distracted by a very, very bella woman right now. Fine, no more Italian national anthem for you.’ He lifted me effortlessly off him and turned us around until I was lying on the bed and his body was above mine. He pulled my dress lower and then kept going, trying to slide it off over my hips. Unfortunately there wasn’t a lot of stretch at the top of the dress, and I don’t have the waifiest of hips, so the whole process came to a halt and had to be reversed, with Jamie shuffling the dress back up and lifting it over my head instead.

  And then there I was, exposed in just my underwear, which was the prettiest underwear I’d packed, since I hadn’t planned on this kind of thing happening. It was bright and colourful, but not matching, and the turquoise lace of the knickers was a little thready if you looked closely, which I hoped he didn’t because it wasn’t even dark yet and I did not need his head down there. One thing at a time.

  He ran his fingers down over my stomach, a smile on his face, then met my eyes with a smile. ‘You’re beautiful. I’m the luckiest man in the world to have had you walk onto my vineyard.’

  I unbuttoned his shirt, and pressed my face against his tanned, sunkissed chest, and added kisses of my own. I felt like I wanted to say something about how beautiful he was, or about how much he’d changed me already, but in a good way, but I couldn’t put it into words. So when he placed his hand under my head, and brought my face up to meet his, I tried to say it all in a kiss.

  He sensed I was still a little nervous so he removed his underwear first, and I resisted the urge to try to lighten the mood with a theatrical gasp. I took off my own, and our skin pressed together, warm against warm.

  Dusk turned to darkness as the night rolled in, and we took our time, never getting tired, pulling sheets and blankets over us as cold air seeped through the windows, topping up the wine, snacking on a little more chocolate, murm
uring compliments, anecdotes and jokes to each other. Occasionally one of us would fall into a light nap, but stir to find the other lying awake, patiently. And the night would continue.

  In the morning, I once again awakened dribbling on Jamie’s chest. This time I wasn’t wearing my clothes, so I made use of his toasty body, snuggling against him. We curled into each other for as long as possible, but Jamie had to get on with some work, and though I would have happily lazed about in his bed all day, I got up and dragged myself back to the main house.

  Unfortunately, as if I cared right now, I missed the group, who all seemed to have disappeared for some activity or other. I hadn’t meant to keep skipping out on these, but after the activities I took part in during the night, a little rest and relaxation would be a good thing.

  I went straight to my bath and lowered my weary, flushed body into the warm water, with the windows wide open to allow in some cool air.

  I looked down at myself. Although I’d shared my body last night, I felt closer and more connected to it this morning than I had in a long time. It put up with a lot of sitting at a cramped desk, and then being made to take late-night gym sessions when it was tired already. It deserved to be caressed and appreciated.

  Perhaps I really should quit my stupid job and move out here. I could spend my days outdoors in the sunshine, taking coffee breaks whenever I wanted, making my own hours. I imagined waking in the morning over at Jamie’s, throwing on whatever I wanted and then taking my laptop out into fresh air and working with a view like this, rather than with a view of another office block from inside an air-conditioned building.

  Was that freedom? Was that real independence? I’d always been adamant that these things were the benefits – the prizes, even – of being single. But perhaps that wasn’t the only way you got them. Not being tied to an office, not living your life based on someone else’s timetable, performance evaluation, tightly controlled holiday allowance … That sounded pretty free and independent to me. I thought maybe that could be quite a happy life.

  After my bath, there was one more thing I’d thought of that might be helpful to save Bella Notte. The battery on my iPad was completely dead so I took myself down to the lounge, grabbed a great big cappuccino and plate of biscotti, and settled down in front of the guest computer.