Summer in Napa (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel)

by Marina Adair

  “So you can’t teach him piano because he played football?”

  “I can’t be alone with him because, before college, Tanner was the quarterback for Napa High.”

  “Get out.” Lexi slapped a hand over her mouth. She knew he looked familiar, but, “No! Way! Hard-Hammer Tanner, as in Jack Tanner, as in class of—”

  “Stolen Saints mascot, yup.”

  “He’s the guy who—”

  “I stole our school mascot, stuck it in his truck, and got him suspended from the biggest game of his high school career.”

  “No, I mean he’s the asshole who—”

  Abby slapped her hands over Lexi’s mouth. “Why don’t you just post it on Facebook and be done with it, that way we can be sure that everyone knows. Jesus, Lex, if even one of my brothers hears that, there is going to be a brawl the size of China in Nonna’s front room.”

  “Can you get your hands off my mouth,” Lexi mumbled through Abby’s fingers. When she didn’t move then, Lexi stuck her tongue out.

  “Gross, Lex. Grow up,” Abby said, grimacing, hand not budging.

  “Says the girl convinced someone is outside the door listening.” She frowned. “And why do you taste like lasagna?”

  “Don’t ask. And I forgot you’re an only child,” Abby said as though her grown brothers still made a habit of hiding outside bathroom doors. “I will remove them if you promise to be quiet.”

  Lexi nodded.

  Abby dropped her hands.

  “Well, it obviously didn’t hurt his career all that much. I mean, you said the guy played in the NFL. Plus, he deserved it.” Abby might have framed him for a silly high school prank, but Jack had broken Abby’s heart.

  After her parents died, Abby went into a deep depression, shutting out everyone. She was lost and scared and blamed herself for living when her parents hadn’t. Jack ran into her at the right time and sweet-talked his way into Abby’s kick-pants, then went to homecoming with another set of pom-poms.

  “If I had known”—Lexi draped a supportive arms around her friend’s shoulders—“I never would have hired him in the first place.”

  “He said he only agreed to do the bistro because he knew I was managing the project.” Abby’s body sagged. “What if he’s trying to ruin my life?”

  “Over a stupid prank that happened ten years ago? I don’t think so.” Lexi pulled her friend closer, and Abby rested her head on Lexi’s shoulder, only she was so much shorter her head only came to Lexi’s chest. “Maybe he just wants to learn piano.”

  Abby shook her head, and when she looked up at Lexi, she knew that there was more to the story. “He was one of the biggest investors in Richard’s and my vineyard.”

  “Oh.”

  “I didn’t know at the time. The money was a contact of Marc’s, and it came through Jack’s company, so I didn’t make the connection.”

  “Until he came back to the valley?”

  “No, until he told me yesterday. He said since I was a designer and he a contractor, that we were bound to work on more projects together in the future.” She shrugged. “He claims that he just wanted to clear the air.”

  “Is he asking for the money back?”

  “No. I told him that I didn’t know about him investing and promised I would pay him back, but he said he would rather have the lessons.”

  “Maybe that’s just his way of saying he knows that you didn’t help Richard.”

  Some people in town still believed that Abby had been in on the scam, and her moving to Santa Barbara only made the rumors more convincing. Which had been hard to take, since nearly all of the investors had been close friends and family. Not that her family believed she played a role in the embezzlement, but she lost a lot of lifelong friends over the situation.

  Abby rolled her eyes. “A million dollars in lessons?”

  “Oh.” That was a lot more than learning how to play “Chopsticks.” And trying to be a good guy or not, that didn’t sit right with Lexi. No matter how rich someone was, forgiving a million in exchange for music lessons sounded too good to be true. And in Lexi and Abby’s world, that meant it usually was.

  “Yeah. Oh.” Abby sighed. “I just got the courage to divorce Richard. Now I have to sit in the same room with some guy who lost a bunch of money because of my inability to tell a thieving limp-dick from a good husband.”

  “Maybe to him a million is pocket change. Have you seen his house? It’s bigger than this one.”

  “One million is one million, Lex. I don’t care how many car and underwear ads the guy did.”

  “He did underwear ads? Like tighty-whities, or those sexy boxer-brief ones?”

  “Does it matter? Nonna invited him tonight as a setup. For me!” Abby dropped her head to her knees. “If you had given Jack a chance, I wouldn’t be in this mess and you wouldn’t be dating my brother, which by the way we are still going to talk about.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  Abby studied the grout. “That I had to think about it.”

  A muffled voice came through the door. It was Trey. “Christ, man, I know this is all new to you, but give the lady some space.”

  “Told you,” Abby whispered, wiping her eyes and standing up.

  There was rustling as though some brotherly shoving and maybe a noogie was taking place on the other side of the door. Then Marc spoke. “She’s in there with Abby.”

  “Doing what?” Trey sounded completely confused.

  “Not playing spin the bottle,” Lexi hollered at the door, smothering a laugh.

  “They’re either sharing secrets or they’re trying to sneak out the window above the commode again,” ChiChi said a moment before the door shot open.

  Dressed in an apron that read Got Cannoli? and a pair of red kitten heels that cost more than Lexi’s entire wardrobe, stood ChiChi. Beside her was Pricilla, looking stunning in her teal slacks and a tucked-in David Hasselhoff T-shirt with a seascape of gems bedazzled around the neckline, making the ensemble evening appropriate. At least in Pricilla’s mind.

  “We weren’t trying to sneak out,” Abby defended, standing up.

  “Of course you weren’t, dear,” Pricilla said, stepping into the bathroom and sitting on the commode. She held a covered dish in her right hand and her crocheted bag of treats in her left. She was smiling and in arm’s reach of both Abby’s and Lexi’s mouths. Most grannies discouraged lying with a mouthful of soap; Pricilla believed more in the if-your-mouth-is-too-full-of-chocolate-the-lie-can’t-come-out method.

  “That’s exactly what you told me the last time, right before Mr. Patterson caught you two skinny-dipping in his pool,” ChiChi accused.

  Abby was about to say something when Marc peeked his head over ChiChi’s. “You went skinny-dipping?”

  “The night she stole my car,” Pricilla added.

  “I had on underwear,” Lexi clarified, forcing her shoulders back but failing to hide the embarrassment creeping up her face. “And I just borrowed it.”

  “What color was the underwear?” Trey wanted to know, popping his head in.

  Marc elbowed him in the ribs and saved Lexi from answering.

  “She hasn’t even had dinner and you’re going to scare her away.” A petite woman with striking blue eyes pushed her way in the room. One hand was securely tangled with Gabe’s, and the other rubbed back and forth over her pregnant belly. “The DeLucas are still learning the concept of personal space and that a bathroom isn’t the place for a family reunion.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Gabe said right as Nate and Tanner came through the door.

  “Is it true you’re shacking up with this guy?” Trey wanted to know. Marc slugged him in the arm, and Trey slugged back when Nate pushed his way into the room and between the two brothers.

  “Leave the poor thing alone,” Regan said with a reprimanding swat to Trey’s gut.

  “I never really knew,” Lexi whispered to Abby.

  “Oh, this is nothing,” she whispered back. �
�Wait until one of them questions the other’s manliness. Then it is on.”

  “Shame on you, Trey. Where are your manners? Sleeping in sin is one thing.” ChiChi shook her head and made the sign of the cross. “Making her admit it in front her grandmother is plain rude.”

  Lexi felt the blush rise even higher in her cheeks. Did they know about last night? Making people think they were having sex was part of the original plan, but that was before they had done the pantry-floor shuffle.

  Marc ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, Nonna—”

  Pricilla shoved a summer fiesta cake ball in Marc’s mouth and scolded, “Language. Plus, I don’t think he’s eaten the apple.” Her eyes narrowed, assessing Lexi and then Marc before frowning. “Tart, pie, or strudel. What’s wrong with you, son?”

  “None of our business,” Trey said in a mocking tone that had all the guys laughing. Well, all of the guys except Marc, who was chewing furiously. Cake ball or not, Pricilla’s summer fiesta was more of a three-biter.

  Lexi’s chest went tight and her heart heavy at their ribbing. It didn’t bother her that they were laughing or that she didn’t get the joke. What bothered her was that Marc was somehow the butt of their fun. Abby was right, Lexi didn’t have siblings, didn’t know what it was like to be a part of a big family. But she did know how much it stung when the people you loved discounted your feelings.

  “Um,” Lexi began, wondering if she should just tell them the truth and show Marc for what he was: a good guy who was trying to help a friend. “About that.”

  Then everyone went silent, and she couldn’t speak past the nerves in her throat.

  Silence stretched on. Awkwardness filled the room, mixed in with so much testosterone and Italian machismo that it was hard to breathe. Or maybe it was because everyone was looking at her, waiting for her to admit that they had had sex.

  Lexi felt like she was on center stage, and her stomach started to knot. Even though they hadn’t had sex yet, Lexi was pretty sure that was on the menu for tonight. Not that she had told Marc she wanted him to sleep over, in the nakedest sense of the word, but she thought that the dress choice was a pretty good sign. And by the way he’d looked at her when she’d answered her door, he had gotten the memo.

  “We’re taking things slow,” Marc interrupted, sending her one of his apologetic smiles and saving her from explaining things.

  She smiled back. Lexi had never been comfortable around Jeffery’s family—not surprising when his mother took every opportunity to make it painfully obvious how lucky she thought Lexi had been to snag her only son. Never once, over all their years together, had Jeffery ever acknowledged her discomfort or defended her when his family started questioning why they hadn’t started a family, why they bought a house in New York, why he had married her in the first place. Yet Marc had picked up on her unease immediately. Not that she didn’t like his family; she just wasn’t used to having that many eyeballs zeroed in on her.

  And Marc got that. He got her. Because he said, “Now everyone clear out so I can make sure my girlfriend isn’t going to pull an Abby and jump out the window.”

  “I did that once!” Abby snapped, heading for the door in a huff.

  “Twice,” Tanner mumbled, following behind her.

  “Show her the plate, Pricilla, and then we’ll get out of their hair,” ChiChi said, taking off the lid and exposing a plate of food. Situated in three segregated piles sat ricotta, cooked noodles, parsley, and a steaming bowl of bolognese sauce that smelled like heaven.

  “What’s that?” Lexi took in a deep sniff and groaned.

  “Dinner,” ChiChi retorted, digging her meaty hands into her meatier hips.

  “Shouldn’t it be”—Nate moved his hand as though tossing a salad—“mixed together?”

  “Exactly!” ChiChi waddled out of the bathroom, and Lexi could have sworn she mumbled, right before she disappeared out of sight, “Deconstructed, my ass.”

  Marc’s eyes went soft, silently apologizing for his family.

  Regan stopped at the door and turned around. “You really will get used to this. I promise.”

  Lexi bit down on her lip and nodded. Because Regan had said it as though there would be other DeLuca family dinners in Lexi’s future. A part of her wanted that, wanted to come here every Friday with Marc and share a meal with his family as though she was a part of this crazy bunch. The other part, the part that knew with family dinner and a future came the possibility for heartache, was scared. Because she was fast learning that although Marc tried to portray himself as a shallow playboy, there was nothing shallow about him. Even worse, there was nothing shallow about her feelings with regard to him.

  CHAPTER 14

  Three hours, two helpings of lasagna, and a slice of Pricilla’s famous burnt-almond cake later, Marc took Lexi’s hand and followed her to the apartment door. He watched as she dug around in her purse for her keys and scrounged up the courage to ask him in. He knew she wanted to; he could see it in the way she kept looking at him during dinner. It was the same way he’d been looking at her.

  She located her keys, unlocked her door, and when she turned around, she met his gaze. It was nervous and so damn adorable it made his head spin.

  He stepped forward, just enough to let her know he was interested, but leaving enough space for her to run the show.

  “Thank you.” She reached up and gently kissed his lips. “For tonight.”

  “You’re welcome.” Marc caught her face before she could get too far and brought it back to his. Upping the heat level, he moved slowly against her mouth, tugging at her lower lip when he pulled back. “For tonight.”

  Neither moved. They stood on her front porch, sharing breath and waiting for the other person to take the next step.

  “You want to come up for a glass of wine?” she whispered, flashing a shy smile.

  “No,” he whispered back, their lips so close that when he spoke they brushed.

  “No?”

  “I want to come up, but not for wine.”

  That got a startled laugh out of her. Then she smiled and Marc felt his whole world go right.

  “Okay,” she began again, only this time wrapping her arms around his neck and crushing those perfect tens against his chest. He looked down to find all that soft flesh, barely contained by her dress. Holy hell, what a view.

  “Marc?”

  His eyes jerked to hers, which were lit with humor. “I asked if you’d like to have a sleepover?”

  “Does this sleepover involve you and me, sweaty and naked?”

  “It does.”

  “Then, yes. Thank you.” He kissed her again, adding a little tongue and some hand action for emphasis. “For inviting me up.”

  “You’re welcome.” She kissed him back. Her hands were doing some action of their own.

  Never breaking contact, Marc reached out and opened the front door. Walking backward, they stumbled up the porch step and into the apartment. He kicked the door with his foot, and before it even slammed shut, Lexi was up against the wall, his hands were up her dress, and there was no way in hell that either of them would make it upstairs clothed. Things were already getting crowded in his jeans. And he didn’t want to damage that dress, so it had to go.

  Lexi’s hands were working the buttons of his shirt. She had it undone and was sliding it down his arms in ten seconds flat, forcing him to ease the grip he had on her ass so that she could toss it to the floor.

  Then she was going for his undershirt, but he had just got his hands back where he wanted them and he didn’t want to let go again. So he took her mouth with his, hoping to distract her so he could get her out of that damn dress.

  “Naked. I want you naked,” she moaned against his mouth while tugging at his shirt, which was shoved up to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric with frustration. He knew how she felt. Her damn zipper was caught in the fabric—again.

  He gave it one more yank, and when it didn’t budge, except to get further stu
ck, he growled, “Fuck it,” and dropped his hands to her ass and lifted. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She did and he nearly lost it right there. There was something about her. Something about the smell of her skin, the way he felt when she was pressed against him, the way their connection continued to grow until it blew his fucking mind.

  She slid one arm around his neck and dropped the other down his chest, abs, and stomach until it finally settled over the ridge in his jeans, and damn it if he didn’t buck into her hand.

  When Lexi’s fingers headed under his waistband, Marc headed up the stairs.

  She lifted her head, which had been buried in the crook of his shoulder while her mouth did amazing things to his neck. “Where are we going?”

  “Bed,” he said, because he wanted this. He wanted her. Wanted to be inside of her making her scream out his name. And he wanted all of that now. But he also wanted their first time to be special and not up against some wall. Plus, it was hard to taste and touch his fill when his hands were too busy holding her up.

  He made it up the stairs in record time, but before he could round the hall she had managed to unbutton his pants and was teasing those soft fingers of hers beneath the elastic band of his boxer-briefs and lower. Her gentle exploring scrambled his brain, and even though he had wanted to make love to her in the bed, that would mean she’d have to stop what she was doing down south and there was no way that was going to happen.

  “The couch,” she mumbled, gripping him hard.

  Couch. Right. It was soft, had pillows, and would allow his hands to get to the touching part of the evening. Which was exactly what he did the second he sat down, Lexi still wrapped around his middle.

  Then they were kissing again, and he forgot about everything except for her amazing lips working his. The kiss was hot and long and he lost himself in it. So when she pulled back and rested her forehead against his, he went still.