A Taste of Romance

by Rhonda Laurel

  Kendall was closing in on him. He looked around for an escape. He’d managed to evade her by the gazebo earlier, but now he was a sitting duck standing near the water fountain the staff had affectionately dubbed the “Kissing Fountain.” He was wedged between two groups of wedding guests. He could cut across the dance floor, but there was the danger of getting snagged for a dance. The other option was splashing through the water fountain and looking like a complete lunatic. But it was too late. Kendall had cornered him.

  “Marco.” She smiled as she made her wobbly approach.

  He could smell the champagne on her as she moved closer. Kendall had been having a really good time. When she finally stopped, she clumsily fell into his arms—or so it appeared. He’d been around plenty of inebriated people to know when someone was faking. Kendall had the intoxicated look, but she was still perfectly coiffed, and her makeup was impeccable. Maybe she needed some liquid courage to pull the trigger on the final part of her seduction.

  “Kendall,” he said, helping her back upright. “Are you enjoying the festivities?”

  “Everything is lovely.” She touched his arm. “I just love being at your vineyard. The lights, the music, everything is just…perfect.”

  “I’m happy you’re having a good time.”

  “I especially love the Kissing Fountain. Rianne says she and Wesley had their first kiss by that fountain.” Her eyes sparkled.

  The legend of the Kissing Fountain was part of the lore in the tours they gave, and it was his own parents’ fault for it gaining such romantic steam.

  As if his silent prayers were answered, his cell phone rang. It was his friend Alex.

  “One second, Kendall.” Marco held up a finger as he dramatically pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket and pressed the green button on the screen to talk. “Alex, my friend. Give me one sec to find a quiet place to talk,” he said quickly, then put the phone down and feigned a sympathetic look. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

  She pouted. “OK. But make sure you find me when you’re done with your call. I was hoping to have a dance with you.”

  He started through the crowd toward an archway leading to the building and turned his attention back to the call. “Alex. Hey.”

  “Sorry to interrupt. I know the wedding is going on.”

  “Not a problem. What’s up?”

  “I could ask you the same thing. You love to dance.”

  “I think Kendall and I are talking about two different kinds of dancing.”

  “Grayson’s going to be disappointed you’re fleeing the scene.”

  Marco laughed. “We won’t tell him.”

  “I’m glad you’re in a good mood. I need a favor.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Do you remember I told you that Charisma’s cousin Trina is a singer?”

  “I remember. You played her CD at our last get together. She has a lovely voice.”

  She did have a lovely voice. A wave of warmth had come over him as he’d listened to her sing.

  “She’s in L.A. and wants to take a break from the publicity tour she’s on and can’t get out of there fast enough. She’s thinking of taking a road trip. Would you mind if she made a stop at the winery before she came to Harper’s Grove?”

  “Sure. I’m a little short staffed because Wesley and Rianne are going on their honeymoon. But I’ll make sure the staff shows her a good time.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Anything for you, my friend. I will treat her like family.”

  “Great. Give Wesley and Rianne my best wishes.”

  “OK. I will.”

  Marco ended the call but hung back in the archway away from Kendall’s view. Love might be blossoming all around him, but he’d been in no danger of being bitten by the love bug for years. He’d had a few near misses, but there’d never been someone who made his heart race and his pulse quicken. Someone whose contagious smile brightened his day when they walked into a room. Someone sweet, kind, and intelligent who liked to laugh and enjoy good wine. Because at the end of the day, life was about appreciating the simple joys of the everyday. But he’d given up on finding someone like that a long time ago. For now, Paloma Vineyards was his life’s passion, and he was content with that.

  * * *

  The next morning, Marco got an early start at his office, trying to put things in order. Last night, he’d made an early exit from the wedding with the excuse that he had to get ready for the work week. After all, his two best employees were off to paradise while he toiled away. But he’d also wanted some time to meet Trina and make sure the staff knew to give her the star treatment. She’d have enough time for the tour, tastings, and lunch in the café before she’d get back on the road to Harper’s Grove.

  He spent most of his time in his office or outside keeping a watchful eye on the harvest. But the next two weeks would be different. He was already at full throttle this morning planning the week’s events. In addition to being in charge of the daily winemaking procedures of the winery and employers, he was now overseeing the day to day of the tasting room events and his restaurant, the Vino Café.

  There were at least two wine tastings on the schedule and a garden party event for some Silicon Valley bigwigs. There was a mix-up with a distributor who’d delivered two more cases of souvenir stemless wineglasses than were listed on the manifest. And Genevieve, the person who represented food industry conglomerates around the country, wanted to meet with him for dinner to discuss a chain of restaurants opening in the Midwest that was interested in stocking his wine.

  He turned off his computer and rose from his desk, curious to see what was going on in other parts of the winery. They were a few guys short in the shipping department, so they would be his first stop. He liked to show his face and interact with all the employees. He knew their families, and it was nice to be connected to everyone who worked so hard to make the winery a success.

  “Marco!” Daisy, his assistant, called out.

  He turned toward her. “What’s up, Daisy?”

  “You have a phone call. It’s Matteo again.”

  “Take a message.”

  She gave him a perplexed look. “OK.”

  “Thanks, Daisy.”

  He wasn’t in the mood to deal with his little brother right now. They rarely spoke without getting into an argument about something or other. It was one of the reasons he’d stopped taking Matteo’s calls.

  He had to help the guys load a small shipment to local stores around town, making a point to service his small, local customers first. The order included a case of champagne, and only he and Wesley had the keys to that storage room. He picked up his keys off his desk, then grabbed the green work shirt on the coat rack and put it on. He always felt a sense of pride when he put on his grandfather’s old shirt.

  His grandfather, Giuseppe Di Giovanni, had loved winemaking almost as much as he loved his family. He’d taught Marco’s father the delicate business of growing grapes and cultivating them into stellar, awarding-winning products, and his father, in turn, passed it down to Marco. The awards that draped the halls of the winery were a testament to their family’s craftsmanship. Winemaking was in his blood, and each generation carried the torch and expanded that legacy.

  He headed down the corridor to the warehouse. The smell of the oak barrels always put him in a good mood. That smell meant there was wine patiently waiting to come to fruition. It gave him a great sense of pride that his product was revered by connoisseurs and casual drinkers alike. It meant he’d perfected a spectrum that could be appreciated and enjoyed by everyone.

  He picked up the clipboard when he got to the loading area. “Hi, Dennis. What’s on the agenda today?”

  “We’re almost done loading the local boxes. There are about twenty more to go, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  “OK. I’m here to help.” Marco rubbed his hands together.

  “You, boss?”

  “Come on. I help out
all the time,” he replied. “I do more than just look good around here.”

  “Yeah. You break hearts. My sister’s still asking about you. I had to remind her that married women shouldn’t go around asking about their brother’s boss.” Dennis shook his head.

  “Your sister is delightful and obviously has good taste.” Marco picked up a box. “Why don’t you go get the hand truck, and I’ll load the rest of the boxes into the van.”

  “Deal!”

  He knew that would light a fire under Dennis. He picked up another box among the cluster that sat by the door and continued to load up the van.

  He glanced at his watch. It was almost three. Time had really gotten away from him, and Trina still hadn’t arrived. He hoped she hadn’t gotten lost, but she could have easily called Alex and got the number for the vineyard from directory assistance. It was so spur-of-the-moment, but in a way, he felt responsible for her. Alex was trusting him to look after her.

  * * *

  After getting together a solid plan for her trip, Trina was able to get to bed at a decent time, but she didn’t really get much sleep. She texted her manager after knocking on their room doors and getting no answer. It seems they did go to another party after they left Lana’s house.

  She looked forward to seeing the Harper’s Grove gang. Peyton had taken the kids to a nature retreat field trip and would be away another day, Austin and Savannah were vacationing in Aruba, but Alex would have time to entertain her after he finished a consultation with a new patient that he couldn’t miss.

  The Reed ladies must’ve had a gab session because she’d received text messages from her sister Dana and her cousins Morgan and Isabelle. Each offered a comforting shoulder, but Trina just wanted to sort this out on her own. The family had been there for her all her life. Now she was determined to show them she could handle herself. After assuring the family again that she’d be OK traveling alone, she rented a convertible equipped with GPS and Blue Tooth and checked out of her fancy hotel. It was all she could do not to run out of the door, but unlike the previous night, she made a graceful exit out of the hotel’s main entrance just in case there were paparazzi around.

  Once she’d plugged in her coordinates into the GPS, she was gassed and ready for adventure. It would take over six hours to reach Napa, and when she was plotting last night, it seemed achievable. As she drove the familiar streets near the hotel, she had to admit she enjoyed the unrelenting sun and the carefully lined palm trees. But alas, she was out of there to do some soul-searching about her career. It hadn’t even started, and she was running out of town with her tail between her legs.

  She’d think about that later. Right now, the ramp for the 101 was coming up, and she made the turn to let the wind blow through her hair. That was until she merged onto the highway and immediately became stuck in traffic. She shook her head. She’d heard about the traffic, but this morning the freeway was like the world’s biggest parking lot. Oh well. She turned on the radio and tried to make the best of it.

  It was a slow crawl for an hour, and she’d even been tempted to blast some music and get out and run around the car like a cheesy California montage she’d seen so many times in movies. After an hour of impatiently tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, traffic began to let up, and she was on her way and making better progress.

  Finally, her road trip fantasy was underway. She’d dressed in a teal and white striped blouse with flared sleeves and a pair of white capris. The fancy brown designer sunglasses she sported were in the swag bag she’d received at an industry party. Yeah, she was feeling like a California girl for sure.

  She didn’t know what to say to Kate and was kind of relieved she didn’t answer. She left her a message on her cell phone that she’d be leaving. Kate had been great to her, and Trina didn’t want her to think all her efforts to launch her career were for naught.

  So far, it had been a pleasant, sunny day, and she’d made a few stops, but always in heavily populated places for safety. She got why the family would be concerned about her solo road trip, but it felt pretty liberating to her. The last thing she wanted to be was a story on the investigative channel about the budding singer who disappeared while on vacation in California.

  She listened as the GPS instructions announced she should make a left onto highway 121 Napa-Sonoma. She continued down the road, admiring the lush acres of vineyards and properties. It was all so lovely. Each plot of land was just as photogenic as the next. She continued to look at the passing scenery, thinking about how nice it must be to live there.

  “Make a U-turn if possible,” the GPS announced.

  Trina looked at the screen. “Crap!”

  She’d missed the turn. She slowed down and made a wide left turn and continued back down the road. The sign for Paloma Vineyards appeared a few feet away. She made a right turn and headed down the long driveway until she reached a fork in the road. To her left was a house and to her right was a cluster of buildings that had more activity around them. There were cars and people moving about. Some men were coming and going from a large building, loading a van with the winery logo on it. Perhaps one of them could tell her where to find the owner.

  She pulled up in a graveled area next to a Ferrari. It must have been Marco’s. She got out of the convertible and walked over to an open door where a hunky guy in a green shirt was loading boxes into the back of a van.

  As she moved closer, one thing was for sure. The man was stunning. She looked at him as casually as she could, trying not to gawk. He was tall and muscular, with short curly hair. There were few men who catapulted into the category of that strange combo of gorgeous and beautiful. He looked like he should have been on the cover of some Italian haute couture magazine, not loading crates onto vans in Napa Valley. When he smiled at her, she couldn’t help but blush a little. She straightened up, continued her stride toward him.

  “Excuse me.” She put her sunglasses on top of her head. “I’m a little lost.”

  “Lucky me. I’ve found you.” He grinned.

  Of course, he was gorgeous and charming. Didn’t those two qualities always go hand in hand? Men like that reeled you in with their stunning features and kept you captivated by their sweet words. But thanks to her cousins’ choice in spouses, who were all drop-dead gorgeous in their own right, she’d built up a tolerance to devastating good looks. Well, almost. It was hard not to get caught up in the vortex of sexy that was swirling around this man.

  “Excuse me.” She peered at the name on his shirt. “Giuseppe, I was hoping you could point me in the right direction.”

  “I’ll do what I can. But first, tell me your name.”

  Trina squinted at him. “Why would I tell you my name?”

  “Because I know you want to.”

  She looked him over. Something deep within her wanted to tell him her name, heck, she wanted to blurt out her life story. It was his deep, mesmerizing eyes. He didn’t seem guarded like most men. She got the feeling he’d tell her anything she wanted to know. If she asked. “Trina. And I’m only telling you that because it will help this conversation along.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not your name.”

  “I think I know my own name.”

  “Trina is the name you are called by family? Maybe friends too? Yet, it does not suit you.”

  “Why doesn’t it suit me?”

  “It’s too short,” he said thoughtfully. “You’re at least a three-syllable woman. What is your given name?”

  She hesitated, frowning at him. “Katrina.”

  “Katrina. It suits you.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Nice to meet you, Katrina.”

  “I know, like the hurricane.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been told I make people agitated.”

  “On the contrary,” he drawled. “I was thinking effervescent. You know something energizing and exciting. Like a first kiss.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” She reluctantly pulled her hand away and smoothed a loose lock of hair
behind her ear. Ever since that devastating hurricane, someone always made a bad joke about her name being synonymous with a natural disaster. She liked this new comparison much better. She definitely liked the person who was saying it to her. “Anyway. I’m looking for Marco Di Giovanni, the owner.”

  “What exactly did he do to deserve a visit from a beautiful woman like you?”

  “Do you always flirt with customers?”

  “Are you kidding? Making each guest feel special is part of the Paloma Vineyards experience. We are taught that in orientation, right after how to properly handle the wine bottles.” He grinned.

  “Oh yeah?” She put her hand on her hip. “What if I were a guy?”

  “Il mio inglese non è molto buono. Inoltre, parlo solo con donne bellissime.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. That accent was really working for him. “What did you say?”

  “Let’s just say it would have been a much shorter conversation.”

  “Uh huh. Well, it was nice chatting with you, Giuseppe.” She turned reluctantly to walk away. As much fun as it was, she needed to find Marco and check in before Alex called. The last thing she wanted was for the family to panic and think she’d lost her way. But that was the farthest thing from the truth. She felt right at home flirting with the warehouse guy.

  “What’s the rush?” He stepped in front of her.

  “Like I said. I’m here to see Marco. Well, not see him. He’s going to babysit me until it’s time for me to get on the road to my final destination.”

  “You don’t look like you need a babysitter to me.”

  She held up her cell phone. “Tell my family.”

  He smiled and glanced around the winery. “He gets pretty busy around here. Why don’t I keep you company?”

  “Shouldn’t you be working?”

  “I just have to load a few more boxes into the van. The visitor’s parking sign is big, you can’t miss it. You must have come in from the east.”