by Grace Conley
Ben’s mouth watered even as his brain shouted for the attendant to Go Away…
Chiara asked questions in a professional and calm manner, only her bright eyes belying her mood.
They each tried a sampling, and finally Chiara politely dismissed the attendant, locking the door behind them.
Ben looked at her, quirked his mouth. “Are you locking me in here, Miss DeLuca?”
“Well, you got me locked in a wine vault last week,” she said. “The least I can do is return the favor.
Ben was instantly hard.
He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to control himself. He unbuttoned his collar, sucked in a breath.
And then he went all fireman alpha, pulling Chiara down to straddle his lap, kissing her deeply.
They had to work around the cast. “Be careful,” he murmured in her ear. “I don’t want to injure you with this thing.”
“You won’t,” she said, rising up suddenly and sweeping her sweater off in one fell swoop. She wore the red demi bra from the underwear set from The Boulder Holder.
“Wasn’t there a thong that went along with that,” he asked, getting his thigh slapped. He reached up a hand to cup her breast, got that slapped, too.
“Take your time,” she ordered.
“Bossy,” he said.
“In charge,” she replied.
His breath hitched as she unbuttoned his shirt, and then undid the top of his jeans.
“Just lie back,” Chiara murmured.
Ben complied with her requests, relaxing deeply into the leather sofa.
Spreading open his shirt, carefully avoiding the cast, she kissed her way down his neck to his chest to below.
Ben’s cock sprang to attention. She ran a hand around it in slow, lazy circles.
“Chiara,” he hadn’t shaved this morning, so his stubble tickled her ear as he whispered deep into it. “I won’t last long if you keep doing that.”
She smiled and sat up, balancing on top of him. “Hold on,” she said. “I think we want the molten chocolate cake while it’s hot.”
She popped the bite-sized morsel in his mouth.
“Aren’t they amazing?” she asked, popping another in her own mouth.
He thought he was going to die of happiness and chocolate. “How do they make them this small, anyway?” he asked, swallowing.
She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, smiling, still straddling him.
“You’ve got me, but they’re sheer perfection. Was that enough of a break now?”
Ben gave a wolfish grin and rolled, flipping her onto her back as he kissed her soundly.
“I want to unwrap my present,” he said, working her jeans off so he could admire both the bra and the thong.
“Were you one of those kids who always had to open at least one gift on Christmas Eve?” she asked.
“Yep. And I still am. I’m not out of practice, either.”
And he went to work, unwrapping her thong with his teeth.
CHAPTER 7
St. Helena’s inaugural Holiday Hearts Ball had been in full swing outside in the ballroom of the Napa Grand for a couple hours. So far, Chiara was satisfied that the event was a rousing success for both St. Vincent’s and St. Paw’s.
All the local vineyards were pouring special bottles in honor of both the event and the holidays, and St. Helena’s hottest Michelin-starred chef donated her catering expertise, which meant that the bids on the Silent Auction baskets far surpassed St. Vincent’s hoped-for goals. Chiara caught a look at the famous Emerson Baudouin commanding a joint team of her own staff and the Napa Grand’s wait staff, and was impressed. Emerson and her team moved in choreographed accord, poetry in motion.
And teenaged auteur Cousin Molly sat holding court at her Randolph the Reindeer book signing table, surrounded by several of St. Paw’s current animals who were seeking forever homes and a bevy of boys from her school.
Molly mugged and took selfies with the boys, and two of them would take home furry new family members at the end of the evening.
Ben and Chiara made a dashing co-chair duo. He was in his formal dress uniform and a special reindeer-patterned sling that Chi Chi and Charles had dropped off at the fire station a few days ago with Battalion Chief Boudouin. Ben shrugged and blushed when Adam made a big show of presenting it to him in front of all the guys during their staff meeting, causing them to call him Hottie-Hot-to-Trot Boy for the rest of the week.
But Chi Chi had really saved up the fairy godmother treatment for Chiara, asking her to come by her first-floor suite in the DeLuca’s grand old home a week before the event, admonishing her that the Co-chair of the Holiday Hearts Ball had to have the best dress. They went through her closet dress by dress and all her real and paste jewelry, Chi Chi recollecting fondly the memories of her marriage with her deceased husband, Geno, and all the occasions she wore the dresses for.
“Get that one in the back, in the white zippered bag,” said Chi Chi thoughtfully. “It’s from a special night, you’ll carry my good luck with you.”
Chiara felt like a fairy princess, just like when she was little and her family visited the DeLuca branch of the family and Chi Chi would whisk her away to go through all her treasures. Chiara had come around after Abby had aged out of playing dress-up, and Chi Chi had a soft spot in her heart for her little namesake.
Chiara couldn’t stop smiling the night of the ball, especially at Ben whenever their glances met as they jointly worked the room. They greeted guests, wished them happy holidays, and encouraged them to eat, drink, and revel. And of course, to open their checkbooks to help St. Vincent’s and St. Paw’s, which was the whole point of the evening.
Guests were boogieing down on the dance floor, and unfortunately the boogieing included the senior set. This had Chiara stalking the edges of the dance floor for more time away from Ben than she’d have liked, in case she needed to jump in and quickly alert one of St. Helena’s finest.
If any sequined canes got caught up in holiday festoon-bedecked walkers, Chiara figured it could cause a domino effect of falling dancers. Chief Jonah Baudouin and Ben’s boss, Battalion Chief Adam Baudouin – hero brothers in different lines of command – had both the County Sheriff’s office and St. Helena’s Fire Station #1 well-represented. But she wanted the guys from their departments, who were off-duty, especially to enjoy the party, and so she kept vigilant.
Then Chiara sensed a weird vibe sweep through the room. Great Aunt Chi Chi, old Mr. Baudouin, and her tribe of cousins were all turning to stare. The hairs on her arm raised and she had a moment of inexplicable panic. She gave a quick scan of the ball, looking for Ben. Finally, she saw what was causing the ruckus.
Frank stood at the entrance of the ballroom.
Ben was instantly at her side, putting a protective arm at the back of her waist.
“It’s time to go get your family’s vineyard back,” he spoke deep in her ear. “I think you’ll find him ready to work something out fairly. You’re not going to lose DeLuca’s Collina.”
“What do you mean by that?” Chiara replied to Ben in a low voice, not wanting to create a scene.
“Go on. He’ll meet you outside. I’ll come with you if you like.”
Chiara’s jaw clamped shut, and her back straightened in quiet fury and something else.
Frank was finally here for their reckoning. Ben was dead wrong, she was resigned for certain that her family would lose their vineyard -- but she was damned if she’d let Frank off without the showdown he deserved now that the coward had finally shown his face.
She’d show him for hurting her family. But she realized, she cared more about her family being hurt than for him hurting her heart. Because it felt like her heart had never really been fully with him…
A chill rippled through her then, setting in a pit at her stomach. Her family had clearly arranged this meeting to happen in a public place, so they could protect her from Frank.
But she also realized what the something els
e was niggling at the back of her brain.
He told. I can’t believe he told. After I let him in, after we made love.
There was no other conclusion. Ben must have betrayed her confidence and told her family, and this was the cavalry rushing in.
Keeping her movements purposefully small and quiet, Chiara pushed Ben’s hand off of her waist and stepped away from him.
From different parts of the room, four testosterone-laden Italian-American male cousins whispered in their wives’ ears, and started moving toward the door in unison. Cousin Abby, who had survived an actual marriage to a complete cad before finding the man of her dreams, set her chin and gave Chiara a silent nod. You can do it, her expression encouraged.
She turned back to face Ben and repeated, “What do you mean by that?”
“Keep your voice down. He’s here to negotiate an agreement for your parents to pay off the property, in fair terms, and to apologize like a man and then leave you alone after this. You won’t have to worry again. And your family won’t lose their land.”
Chiara bolted away from him, the train of the vintage red gown Chi Chi had lent her for the occasion making s-curves as she dashed through the crowd back to the service doors.
***
“You don’t understand,” Ben kept repeating over her in his best console-a-lady whose-cat-is-up-a-tree voice. “This is good for you.”
“Don’t you dare mansplain at me! You told my aunt and cousins about what Frank did! After I specifically asked you not to!”
Chiara wielded a silver sequined quarter-sized replica of the missing Randolph, which Chi Chi had commissioned by a local artist in homage to the missing town icon. It had been used as a centerpiece for a giant decadent cream cheese-frosted carrot cake from Cousin Lexi at the Sweet & Savory Bistro, which the crowd devoured immediately.
He thrust his good arm up to protect himself.
“Actually, I didn’t. I don’t know what all is going on out there, but that is not to do with why he is here. I didn’t tell your family, Cheech,” his voice was excited, confident.
Sweet, sexy, amazing Ben.
Ben who had to be lying.
Chiara couldn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together, but she knew the evening was like a crap jigsaw puzzle she’d gotten as a kid. She’d opened the box up, put all the pieces together according to the fantasy land picture on the front, and there was one piece missing. It made her furious.
She felt like she was the missing puzzle piece, an absent part of a broken toy.
Chiara spoke one word, low and slow.
“How?”
“Your cousins didn’t get him to come. I did. And I’m sorry he showed up tonight, he was supposed to come in tomorrow morning. I don’t know how he got wind of the gala, but if he arrived early…well, it’s a small town, he probably saw the signs all over and figured you would be here along with everyone else.”
Damn it, Ben still sounded excited, proud of himself.
“That doesn’t explain how,” she said churlishly.
“Chief helped me.”
“So, let me get this straight. You didn’t tell the DeLuca’s, but you told a Baudouin?” The two families had long since stopped warring after Frankie and Nate and Great Aunt Chi Chi and old Charles had all paired off happily, but it still didn’t sit well with Chiara that Ben would share her private trouble with a member of another prominent St. Helena family. That was almost worse than sharing it with her own family.
“Cheech, it’s done. It’s taken care of. There are land use rules, and it turns out that good old Frank hasn’t been following them. He’s filed for a bunch of permits to do various things on the properties he already has, and they’re just not zoned for what he is trying to do. He didn’t do his research fully this time.”
“And you know this how?”
“I told Adam,” he gestured. “I know that was wrong of me. But you were so stubborn, thinking you were somehow going to talk with him and solve it. You needed extra hands, to help to go looking for what was wrong. You should have been asking your family, Chiara. And you should have been asking me.”
“It was pretty simple, really. I told my Battalion Chief – in confidence, by the way – and he made some calls up to Multnomah County. Frank was flying fast and hot on this one, Cheech. He made a lot of mistakes. Long story short, the County knows and he’s not going to be able to qualify for his use permits.”
She chuffed out a breath. “I appreciate it if you helped my family, Ben. But I have a hard time believing someone as smart and calculating as Frank would screw up with real estate.”
“He was arrogant. He took advantage of some small vineyard owners who’d had a rough few harvests, one of whom was older and wanted to get out anyway. That one will stay out, he’s retiring. But Frank has agreed to sell back to at least one other owner, and to negotiate fair terms with your dad and mom, so they can pay off the loan and get their full ownership back. Remember, Adam is a Baudouin. He grew up in the business, gets it.”
“And I don’t? I grew up in the business, too!”
“You did,” Ben said, looking at her steadily. “But you were blinded by his theatrics, rightly devastated because he played you and then left you at the altar. Which is…beyond craven. You haven’t been thinking straight on this. You needed to circle your wagons, to involve the people who love you, not to insist on going it alone!”
Silent tears ran down her face. The fact was, even though he did it out of caring, Ben had played Big Man. Chiara had had enough of that from Frank.
Regardless of the fallout, she thought, she needed to start to deal with things on her own. The fact that Ben was right didn’t make her feel any better.
But she was beginning to feel clarity. That was a start.
“Chiara? I get that made a complete jackass move in not asking your permission. I know that now. I’m used to – being the one to go running the wrong way into a burning building. I thought if I could just solve it for you, that it would help you and your family, help you have closure and move on.”
He got it then. He’d tried so hard to solve Chiara’s problems for her, but in doing that, he’d robbed her of the chance to solve them herself.
“You should go and talk to him. I’ll stay here, I’ll stay out of your business from now on. I’m so sorry. But please, don’t miss this opportunity, Chiara, please. Family is everything.”
He reached out, gently retrieved the reindeer statue from her hands and set it back on the counter.
“I don’t think you want to take any objects out there that might be construed as weapons,” he joked. “Go on. Go and finish this. Your mom and dad will be proud of you.”
And I’ll be proud of you, he thought. Even if you don’t want me around after this.
She swiped her hands across her cheeks hard, trying to clear the tears. Ben put a hand up, tentatively brushed his hand once across her cheekbone. “Mascara,” he said. “I got it.”
His gentle touch unlocked her heart. Finally, after all the wasted time spent trying to figure out why the type of man she’d thought she wanted not only didn’t want her but acted to humiliate her in front of all her friends and family, then trying to figure out why she turned out to not care as much about him as she’d thought.
The last couple of years were complicated and weird, and she was glad they were behind her. But then there was Ben. A simple guy, from a small town. A firefighter, whose normal day-to-day included rushing into infernos without complaining about it. It was just his life. And she was dearly proud of him for it.
Love was actually simple, right here and staring her in the face.
Chiara brushed a hand out, placing hers on his. “Ben, you mentioned the people who love me. If I involved the people who love me, would that have included you?”
“Yes,” replied Ben.
One word, there it was.
Everything on the line. Simple, uncomplicated.
Love. Yes. Chiara’s heart pounded. She was
ready for Ben, ready to take those next steps in their lives. Together.
“Then come with me.”
“You mean it?” he asked, then joking “by the way, do I get to beat him up?”
“No violence,” she commanded. “Unless you want to give me that pygmy-sized Randolph statue over there back.”
“No way, no how.” He kissed her then, a light buss on the forehead and the lips. “There’s more where that comes from later, but let’s get Frank out of your life first.”
Ben grabbed up her hand, pulling her towards him as he backed through the door.
Chiara and Ben stumbled into a completely silent ballroom. The crowd all stood, waiting, expectant. She frowned as she noticed that Nate and Trey flanked an uncomfortable-looking Frank over near the entrance, with Marco standing in front of him so Frank was boxed into the wall. The brothers looked nonchalant.
Gabe and Regan were at the microphone up on the stage, with Chi Chi and Charles seated next to what appeared to be a giant velvet curtain-covered mound. Regan’s smile widened as she caught Chiara’s eye.
“Good evening, everyone,” Regan’s voice rang out. “Thank you so much for coming out tonight to support the worthy causes of St. Paw’s and St. Vincent’s. I hope that everyone will take home a copy of Molly’s book, which will not only support those organizations but will be a story you can read to your child year after year. I also want to thank our amazing co-chairs, Ben Archer and Chiara DeLuca, without whom tonight could not have happened.”
“And now I’d also like to solve a holiday season mystery that I know has worried everyone in this room for the past several weeks,” Regan looked around dramatically.
“As you all know, our beloved town holiday symbol, Randolph the Reindeer, has been stolen several times over the years,” Regan snuck a glance at Gabe, who grinned broadly.
“And there has been a rampant misconception in the last few weeks that Randolph was stolen again. That is not the case.”
Regan and Gabe each took an end of the piece of velvet fabric and pulled it off, revealing what was underneath. A shiny, completely restored Randolph!