Blake snuck a look at her. She was sexier than hell tonight. Temptation personified. It appeared he carried the same weakness for Cori Sinclair that he did for chocolate, only it wasn’t stress or sadness that made him want Cori.
Conversation. He needed to start a conversation with her. Something they wouldn’t argue about. His gaze landed on his wineglass.
Blake turned to Cori. “I really like the w—”
“Corinne, see if they have a different wine. This is unacceptable.” Salvatore Messina cut Blake off, gesturing to his Chardonnay.
Blake clamped his mouth shut, waiting to see how Cori would handle her grandfather’s request and wondering if she’d need his help.
“Did you donate the wine, Grandpa?”
“No.” Mr. Messina chuckled. “I gave him money.”
“Next time,” Cori said under her breath, “donate the wine, as well.”
Salvatore Messina glared at his granddaughter. Blake ducked his head, angling his face away from his employer to hide his smile, but not before catching Luke’s conspiratorial grin.
Unable to quit when she was ahead, Cori gestured to the glittering ensemble. “Every wine drinker in this room is sipping this wine and looking at the bottle on the table.”
Salvatore Messina’s face reddened. His fingers drummed on the tablecloth. Cori might be brilliant at public relations, but she wasn’t so smart when it came to her grandfather. You didn’t want to go head-to-head with the old man every minute. He’d wear you out first. And if you gave him attitude, he’d shove it back down your throat.
“Why didn’t you suggest that sooner?”
“I’m sure they asked you months ago, before I even came home.” She changed her tactics and smiled sweetly. “The number?”
“I’ll have none of your impertinence.”
Blake would have thought Cori was unfazed by her grandfather’s behavior, except that her right leg bounced nervously next to his knee. His hand itched to reassure her with a touch, but that tempted danger on all fronts.
Luckily, the waiter interrupted, taking salad plates and silencing Mr. Messina. Blake wondered why Cori wanted this mysterious number she kept asking for. The founder of Messina Vineyards took one look at the plate the waiter set down in front of him and turned toward Cori again.
“Corinne, go request a rare steak. This is medium.”
“They cook these things by the hundreds and let them sit. Nothing’s going to be rare,” Blake interjected, giving in to temptation and placing his hand over the shimmery black fabric covering Cori’s bouncing knee. She didn’t jump at the contact, but swung her dark brown eyes to him. Blake pulled his hand back slowly, holding her gaze all the while, backing it up with a reassuring smile. He was pleased to see heat spark in her eyes.
Progress.
“Well?” Salvatore Messina stabbed at Blake with a disapproving frown.
Cori didn’t argue. She backed her chair awkwardly away from the table and stood without acknowledging Blake or his attempt at buffering.
No one at their table ate. They all waited for Salvatore Messina to be served. Awkward conversations started and stopped until Cori returned with her grandfather’s plate. As rare steaks went, it was a tad brown.
Later, after accepting an award for helping pioneer the Sonoma wine industry, Salvatore Messina talked amidst a group of well-wishers, including Cori and Blake. An excellent statesman, Mr. Messina knew how to keep conversations rolling and spar with Cori without drawing attention. Blake wouldn’t have noticed the tension between the two if he hadn’t been protecting Cori’s back. Every man in the room over the age of eighteen maneuvered for a look at her in that dress. Blake guarded it zealously.
Cori thought her grandfather should talk with a reporter from a San Francisco newspaper. Salvatore Messina didn’t. She thought he should discuss new wine-growing practices with Robert Mondavi, one of California’s wine-making kings. Mr. Messina changed the subject. She suggested he sit down. He just sniffed and ignored her. Luke, on the other hand, listened intently and took her suggestions. And so it went. Through every conversation, Cori doggedly asked for “the number.”
Upon Luke’s return to the circle, Blake bumped him with his elbow and gestured to Cori and her grandfather. “Always like this?”
“Never this bad. She’s gotten more persistent.” Luke listened to Cori’s advice, this time to talk with the grower representative, which was once again ignored by Mr. Messina. Luke smiled at Blake as he targeted the grower rep. “Better, too.”
Admiring Cori’s bare back, Blake privately agreed.
Poor Cori. Most of what she said made sense, yet the old man still stubbornly refused her advice.
Music started behind them in the ballroom. Blake hesitated only a half second before taking Cori’s hand in his and pulling her away from Mr. Messina.
“Dance?” he asked.
With her heels on, the top of her head made it to his nose. Just the right height for a slow dance.
She tilted her head and looked at him, then back to her grandfather. “Maybe later.” But her hand was still cradled in Blake’s.
“There is no later. It’s nearly ten o’clock and I have to get up at four in the morning. I need a dance now before I turn into a pumpkin.” He gave her what he thought was his most charming smile. “Please?”
“One dance.” But her eyes sparkled and she was smiling.
“We’ll start with one dance.” Blake led her out onto the dance floor and held her tenderly in his arms. They moved harmoniously, with a respectable distance between them.
“Why haven’t you come down to the river?”
She tilted her head up to look at him, then closed her eyes. “I can’t stand the waiting. My job, my mother, you. I can’t decide anything until I know whether or not I have a job or how long I’m going to be here.”
“Would you like to stay?” Hope made Blake’s heart beat faster. “It’s a good place to raise kids.”
Cori opened her eyes, looking at something beyond Blake’s shoulder, looking sad. Blake wished he could make her smile again.
“Staying isn’t an option open to me.”
“I didn’t ask you that. I asked you what you wanted.”
“Let’s not talk. Let’s just dance.” Cori sighed and snuggled closer, which was great, except—
“Ouch!”
Blake had stepped on her foot. “Sorry.”
“Oooh.”
Blake’s foot snagged the hem of her dress. “Sorry.”
“You’re a horrible dancer.” Cori laughed when she said it, taking the sting out of her words because there was joy on her face, lighting her eyes.
“Yeah, Sophia’s lessons never took.” She’d tried several times to teach him how to dance, but Blake had two left feet.
“Hang on. Grandfather’s trying to get my attention.” Holding his hand, Cori dragged Blake back over to Mr. Messina.
Blake was more than happy to follow her wherever she wanted to lead him.
“What do you think you were doing out there?” Mr. Messina snapped, handing Cori a slip of paper and glaring at Blake.
“Dancing. Isn’t it great?” Cori placed a quick kiss on her grandfather’s leathery cheek, grabbed the paper and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Salvatore Messina behind, openmouthed.
CHAPTER TEN
JENNIFER SAT ON THE BED while Michael lay on the floor. She’d been recruited to baby-sit her nephew. Jen couldn’t believe no one had told her she was an aunt yet. What were they waiting for? Her to get her driver’s license? She’d much rather be down the hall with Sophia, but Maria was adamant that Jen needed to be with the brat.
“You can come down here with me,” Michael offered, patting the carpet next to him.
“No, thanks.” He apparently hadn’t understood that she couldn’t stand him. Ignoramus.
A television commercial came on featuring a blond teenager playing with a football. He reminded her of Skyler. She wished she could have hung
out with him on Sunday. But no. She’d had her period and missed her opportunity. Now Skyler wasn’t talking to her.
At least Devon hadn’t spread any rumors about her. Ronnie gave her dirty looks, but hadn’t said a word to her. Skyler was right. Jen was going to be okay.
Why wasn’t Skyler talking to her? Maybe she’d work up the nerve to call him later.
“Want to look at my book?” Michael hauled out his baby book, of all things. She’d already learned what she needed to from that book. As if she wanted to know when he’d pooped his first one.
“This is all about me,” he said proudly, pointing to the title and climbing up onto the bed without waiting for her answer.
Michael flipped a few pages in. “Here’s me as a baby.” He giggled and pointed.
Inextricably, Jen’s eyes turned to the book. She hadn’t seen that photograph the other day, not that she’d missed anything. It was a typical baby picture. His eyes were screwed shut, his face red and his fists tightly knotted on either side of his head. Jennifer had one like it at home, minus the fists.
“This is my hair.” He pointed to a piece of hair stuck to the page with clear tape.
Jennifer suppressed a shudder. Ick. Obviously, this “admiring body parts” was a boy thing.
“My first toenail.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He flipped to the front of the book. “My birthday.” He passed his palm over the page. “When is my birthday, Jen? I forgot.”
With a sigh, Jen pulled the book closer, hoping there wasn’t anything grosser in the book about to fall out in her lap.
“Michael Messina Sinclair.” Figures they’d fit that name in. Get a grip, Cori. It’s not like the Messinas were movie stars or something. Sheesh. “Born January fourth.”
“That’s right.” He brightened. “And it says my mom’s name, too.” He added a little sadly, “I don’t have a father.”
Jennifer gave him a you’re-a-moron look and scrambled off the bed. “What do you mean?” Hadn’t they told the kid? Then Jen realized they couldn’t tell him. He was just a baby. He’d blab to everyone.
“I don’t have a dad and I want one. Other kids have dads.”
“I don’t.”
“Oh, that’s sad. Are you sad?” He hopped down off the bed and took her hand.
Sappy kid. But she admitted, “I’m okay with it now. I have Blake.”
“He’s your dad?” He dropped her hand and stepped back, assessing her. “Is he a good one?”
She laughed despite herself. “He’s not my dad, you dork. He’s my brother. He took care of me when my parents died.”
“He can be mean.”
“Not always. He bought you a soccer ball, didn’t he? And played with you?”
Michael shrugged, seemingly unwilling to give in. “We play sometimes.”
Blake was strict, but he wasn’t mean. Suddenly, she wondered how her brother felt about being a father, particularly when Michael didn’t seem to like him much. Were Blake’s feelings hurt? For the first time in a long while, Jen worried about someone’s feelings other than her own. Blake had sacrificed a lot for her when their parents died. Maybe there was a way she could pay him back.
CORI EXCUSED HERSELF and managed to make it outside the hall. The place was packed. The throng shifting through the main hallway into the ballroom was reluctant to let her through. Once outside, Cori placed a call on her cell phone to a number from an unfamiliar area code.
“John Sinclair?” she asked, when a man answered groggily.
“You’ve got him.” His words were smooth and cultured.
Cori immediately doubted her grandfather’s appraisal. This wasn’t the voice of someone you couldn’t trust.
“This is Cori Sinclair. Your daughter?” She sounded like a teenager. Where was her cool business persona when she needed it?
“Well, this is a surprise.” His voice carried a note of sarcasm that Cori attributed to her grandfather’s previous call. “Did you turn out as pretty as you started? Or did you take after your grandfather’s side of the family?”
Cori didn’t know how to respond to that, so she got right to the point. “I’m calling for Mama. She’s sick and she’s been asking for you.” She didn’t say Mama was dying.
“Did your grandfather tell you to call me? I’ve already told him my price for a visit.”
“Price?” Cori’s high heels suddenly launched her to a dizzying height. She swayed slightly.
“Ten thousand dollars. Plus travel, first-class. Nonnegotiable.”
“What?” There had to have been some mistake. Perhaps her grandfather had hired someone to play this role. “You’re not really John Sinclair.”
“Oh, I’m John Sinclair, all right. You were there at the river the day I left. You cried when I got in the boat and Luke had to pull you back from the water.”
The unpleasant memory came rushing back. They’d followed him down to the river. Her father shouting his goodbyes over the sailboat’s motor as he headed downstream. Luke holding on to her by the arms as she sobbed for her daddy.
“I thought you might remember that, Peanut,” he said in response to her silence.
Peanut. Cori’s stomach whirled unpleasantly. Her grandfather was right about John Sinclair. She’d never call Michael “Peanut” again.
“You’re not coming,” she whispered.
“I loved your mother once.” His voice sounded gruff, although it could have been her cell connection. “But there was only one man she’d do anything for and it wasn’t me.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I’ve got my pride and my price. Since it doesn’t sound like you’re going to pay it, either, if you’re ever in Atlantic City, look me up.”
“HEY, I’VE BEEN searching for you.” Blake stepped in front of Cori as she made her way numbly back into the hotel. “I know I’m no Fred Astaire, but I’d love another dance.”
Cori stood rigidly. She could hold it together. She was a Messina. Then her eyes found the compassion in Blake’s gray eyes and all her defenses crumbled. She couldn’t honor Mama’s last request. She’d failed.
Cori spun away from Blake, weaving an intricate pattern through the throng until she reached a side door and burst back out into the night.
Blake was right behind her, then at her side with a comforting hand under her arm. If his touch had been firm and demanding, Cori’s defenses might have been shored. As it was, she broke down, spinning around to burrow into his chest. He enveloped her in his sturdy embrace.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
She sobbed silently, trying to regain control, but it was no use. She’d let her mother down. In the face of her defeat, Cori allowed herself to sink deeper into the warmth of Blake’s touch.
“He’s not coming,” she managed to snuffle.
Blake pushed her away, holding her upper arms. “Who?”
“My father. Mama wanted to see him one more time.”
“I’m sorry, Cori. I didn’t know.” He cast a quick glance back inside. “Do you want to go home?”
Cori nodded. That was the nice thing about Blake; he seemed to know what she needed. Often, he knew what Michael needed, too, she admitted to herself.
In no time, she was in Blake’s truck heading back to the house. Cori spent much of the ride in silence, staring blindly out the passenger window. Now she knew why she looked at the Russian River and felt the urge to escape. Her father had planted that seed long ago. So much time wasted at the river’s edge.
As they turned into the driveway, Blake unexpectedly gunned the truck forward with a curse, sending gravel spitting everywhere.
Cori looked up and saw the flashing lights in front of the house.
“JEN?” Fearing the worst, Blake bounded up the stairs three at a time, Cori a few steps behind him. “Maria?”
“Are you all right?” Blake asked, as Jen flew out of Sophia’s room and into his arms.
Jen was sobbing uncontrollably, her face red and streaked with tears.
Cori
swept past the pair and into her mother’s room. “Mama?”
Blake pulled Jen near the doorway so that he could see inside but she couldn’t.
Two paramedics huddled next to the bed in a whispered conference. Sophia’s eyes were slits, barely visible above the oxygen mask covering most of her face. She looked spent and didn’t react to Cori’s voice. But she was alive.
“I was just about to call you. We think she had a heart attack,” Maria said, placing an arm around Cori’s waist. “She’s a strong woman, your mama.”
Blake set Jen aside with a stern look. “Stay here. Don’t come back inside.” He waited until she nodded before entering the bedroom.
Cori couldn’t seem to take her eyes off her mother. She stepped nearer to the bed. “Did they have to revive her?”
“Did Jen see?” Blake asked, stopping next to Cori.
“No, no.” Maria spoke softly, turning her back to Sophia. “About half an hour ago Mrs. Sinclair clutched her chest and I screamed.” Tears filled the older woman’s dark eyes as her own hand slid to her chest. “I couldn’t help it. She startled me. Jennifer came running from down the hall, but by that time Mrs. Sinclair had passed out.”
Cori looked shocked. Blake curled his arm around Cori’s shoulders and drew her to his side. Rather than resist, she leaned into him and slid her arm beneath his tuxedo jacket. It felt painfully right to shelter her there. Somehow, they were going to mend things between them.
“I had Jennifer wait downstairs for the medics.” Maria patted Blake’s arm. “You take her home and give her a cup of hot chocolate. She’s a brave girl.”
Jen’s snuffles were audible inside the bedroom. He hoped she had heard Maria’s praise. Blake berated himself. He should have anticipated that Sophia might have an attack or die while Jen was with her. He’d probably scarred his sister for life. All this time he’d believed being together was good for both Jen and Sophia. Like it or not, Jen wasn’t coming into this bedroom anymore.
Michael's Father (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 21