Heard It Through the Grapevine

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Heard It Through the Grapevine Page 24

by Pamela Browning


  “I want to call my mother,” Gina said. “Without a doubt.” She couldn’t wait to tell Maren that her advice had been right on target.

  “Fine, and then we’ll phone my parents. They’ll love you as much as I do. We’ll go for a visit as soon as you can get away.”

  “That’ll be in a week or two. Did you really mean it when you said you didn’t want me to leave my family?”

  “I belong here in Rio Robles now, too, Gina. I want to live among Angelinis, celebrate holidays with Angelinis and raise a few little Angelinis of our own.”

  “They’ll be Corbetts.”

  “Strictly speaking, yes. That’s okay. There are lots of members of your family who have different last names. But once an Angelini, always an Angelini. Correct?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “I want to name our first child Joshua James Corbett the Fourth. Is that all right with you?”

  “Whatever. What if it’s a girl?”

  “Her name will be Maren. After my mother. What’s your mom’s name?”

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Maren Elizabeth Corbett.”

  Josh grinned. “I like it. No one could be a better mother-in-law than your mother is going to be.”

  “She’s crazy about you. I need a phone.” Gina sat up, bringing the sheet along with her.

  Josh yanked the sheet away again. “Not so fast, dearest love. There are a few little things I’d rather do first.”

  Gina grabbed unsuccessfully for the sheet, and he caught her hand and drew her down on top of him. “Like what?” she murmured, knowing only too well what he had in mind.

  “Like this,” he said, demonstrating. “And this.”

  AFTERWARD, THEY SLEPT FOR a time, waking only when they heard someone hammering outside the window.

  “What in the world?” Gina said sleepily.

  “I’ll see what it is,” Josh said, getting out of bed. He pulled aside the heavy damask curtain. “Well, I’ll be,” he said. “Someone’s hammering a For Sale sign into the grass of the front yard. Judy Rae must have decided to sell.”

  Gina reached for one of Josh’s T-shirts and slid it over her head as she rushed to the window.

  “She’s mentioned going to live with her daughter several times,” Josh said, pulling her close. “I’ll bet that’s what she’s going to do. How would you like to live in this house, Gina? You and me and Timothy and maybe one of Frankie’s puppies?”

  “Timothy makes you sneeze, so he might have to live at the shop.”

  “Hey, the two of you are a package deal! I’ll take allergy pills. They really work.”

  “This is my dream house,” Gina said, recalling how many times she’d imagined living here. “It’s the place where I always wanted to live.”

  “I’ll make arrangements right away. Any other wishes you’d like me to fulfill?”

  Gina’s heart was overflowing with happiness. Overcome by emotion, she shook her head. She couldn’t stop the tears of joy that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

  Josh held up the amber heart necklace, which gleamed with golden promise in the light from the early-morning sunbeams pouring in the window. He slipped the chain over her head.

  “You’ll want this back,” he said. “At least until I can buy you a ring.”

  “Oh, Josh, is this really and truly happening?”

  “I hope so, or I’m going to be one disappointed guy.” He laughed. “Now, weren’t you going to make a phone call?” He handed her the phone.

  Gina perched on the edge of an overstuffed armchair and dialed Maren’s number. “Mother, you won’t believe this,” she began, and Josh went to get dressed.

  Which was a good thing, because before Gina was even off the phone, the first in a long parade of relatives arrived to offer congratulations. And advice. And even an offer to cater their wedding reception.

  Josh wasn’t surprised. Why would he be? The quick-spreading news of their engagement was just another example—to be sure, a loving and heartwarming example—that the Angelini family grapevine, like the family winery, was alive and well.

  When everyone had gone, when they were blissfully and completely alone again, Josh took Gina in his arms.

  “Remember the Mr. Moneybags show, when everyone was leaving Dunsmoor Castle?” he asked.

  She slid her arms up around his neck, gazing deep into his eyes. “You looked at me as I got into the limo that was taking me to the airport.”

  “I’d just received a check for a million dollars,” he began, but she put a finger across his lips to silence him.

  “You and Tahoma,” she said.

  “Yes. We’d both received checks for a million dollars. But my eyes locked with yours before you disappeared into the car, and I knew that I’d made a terrible mistake.”

  “Even then?” she asked.

  “Even then. I had a million dollars in my pocket, but I felt poor in all the ways that really count.”

  “What ways?” she murmured, kissing his neck, kissing his cheek, kissing ever so briefly his lips.

  “I didn’t have love. I didn’t have you.”

  “So why didn’t you come looking for me long before you did? Why did you wait two whole years? Two very long years?”

  “I didn’t know if you’d want me after I sent you away,” he said seriously.

  “I didn’t think I did. Then you came along and swept me off my feet.”

  “And met your family, and became part of it.”

  “Will you ever get good at bocce?” she asked before kissing him again, longer this time.

  “There’s something else I’m really good at,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the bed. “I’m going to show you what it is.”

  She pulled him down on top of her and gazed up at him. “Didn’t you give me a demonstration of your abilities last night?”

  “Yes, but there’s more. In fact, there might be a few tricks you can show me.”

  “There might be,” she agreed. “I can read minds, did you know that?” He had told her about Frankie’s mind-reading trick.

  “What am I thinking right now?”

  “That you want me to do this, and this, and this,” she said, smiling up at him.

  And he did.

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-6917-3

  HEARD IT THROUGH THE GRAPEVINE

  Copyright © 2004 by Pamela Browning.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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