California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances

by Casey Dawes

  “Ah,” Marcos said. “The classic Bordeaux.”

  The winemaker nodded and gestured to his assistant who poured the wine into five glasses and passed them out.

  Marcos leaned to Elizabeth and whispered, “Remember to taste with your senses, not your mind.”

  Elizabeth watched the others at the table and followed suit, sniffing, swirling, sniffing again and finally tasting. She rolled the rich liquid around her mouth and tried to do as Marcos asked. Soon silky flavors of ripe cherries on a warm summer’s day flooded her senses, followed by a tinge of strawberry and a hint of hot chocolate in the rainy winter that stayed on her tongue long after she’d finished swallowing her wine.

  “Nice finish,” Marcos said.

  “Yes,” the winemaker said, “but not my favorite. I could do without the cocoa and I’d like a little mint in the mix.”

  They went on to taste the other three blends. Each time, Elizabeth became more seduced by her senses, picking up flavors she’d never imagined with wine — hints of leather, earth and even a smidge of lavender in one blend.

  “You have a good palate, Elizabeth,” the winemaker said as they finished the last tasting. “I find it’s interesting to have several people taste my blends as I go along. If I’m the only one, then the wines only have a ‘house palate;’ everything begins to taste the same.”

  He turned to Marcos. “So have you settled where your next vineyard will be?”

  “I’m in negotiations for a top of mountain vineyard in Santa Cruz.” Marcos told the winemaker where the vineyard was located.

  “Ah … yes. The old Burnap place. You should be able to get some interesting grapes from that piece of land. It used to belong to David Bruce, but he never did anything with it. I’d like to sample what you grow.” He took out his business card and handed it to Marcos.

  A thrill of excitement raced through Elizabeth. All of a sudden, Marcos’s plan made sense to her — find the land where the best grapes were grown and create vineyards. Winemakers would always be interested in good grapes. In her mind’s eye, Elizabeth could imagine a Tuscan tasting room at the top of the hill in Santa Cruz, filled with good food and fine wines made by the man at her side.

  Perhaps there’d be room for a shelf of her skin-care lotions.

  She looked at Marcos and found him staring at her, his face tilted to one side as if he was seeing her for the first time. She smiled at him, silently willing him to know that she finally saw his vision.

  “Good thing harvest is done,” the winemaker said. “Looks like it might rain.

  Elizabeth turned to the window. Dark thunderclouds were moving rapidly their way.

  Chapter 20

  Elizabeth was silent as they headed up the road to Calistoga. By glimpsing the vision that Marcos had for his life, she began to see what was missing in her own.

  Marcos put his hand on hers. “You look like you have discovered something, cara.”

  “I think I finally understand what you’re trying to achieve.”

  “Molte bene! Good! So what do you see?”

  “I see well-tended vineyards, a beautiful tasting room filled with things from your country, a place where people can experience the flavors of the earth in food and wine. Your grapes will command top dollar and your wines will be exquisite.”

  “It is nice to have someone have so much faith in me!” He laughed gently. “And, Elizabeth, where are you in this picture?”

  “Me? Nowhere. It’s your dream. I’m in Costanoa, watching my shop and happily looking at glowing sales figures for my product line.” She laughed, but there was a tinge of bitterness at the edges. The life she’d outlined sounded hollow.

  Marcos pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant as the drops of rain where beginning to fall. “Dreams are better shared, cara. Let us eat and I will tell you how I think your dream and my dream fit together.”

  The hostess sat them at a small table near a window looking over fields of grass. It was strange to see land that wasn’t under vine, but good to see there was still a place that was natural within the commercialism of Napa Valley.

  “What did you think of the wine?” Marcos asked.

  “It was interesting — tasting it without thinking too much!” She smiled at him. “I really got what you were saying about how the wine shows the place it was grown and the spirit of the winemaker. From what I tasted in Italy, I know you have the same talents.”

  “A person needs to follow a passion. It is for the best. Otherwise, we are only making the motions of living.”

  Elizabeth nodded. While Sarah was growing up, she’d focused on her daughter. Now was the time to follow her own dream.

  The waitress placed their meals in front of them. They’d both ordered the pasta special — mushroom-filled home-made raviolis in a cream sauce.

  Elizabeth toyed with one of the pasta pockets, reminded of her own desperate efforts at making ravioli. “I’m determined to learn how to make these, although I seem doomed to failure!”

  “Making food for others can be an act of love, creative expression,” Marcos said. “The passion we both share, I think, is for la dolce vita. Wine, food, luxuries things like your lotions … ” He trailed off and picked up her hand and turned it over. He traced a finger down the center, like a palm reader, sending shivers to every sexual point of her body.

  “These are important for la dolce vita,” he continued. “But the most important part is love, cara. I know you have been hurt, but I hope you can find it in your heart to love again.”

  He traced her palm again. “I have told you how much I like you and desire you. I am happy you have a dream for yourself.” He shrugged. “Women who have only a desire to be a shadow do not appeal to me.” His finger moved to trace her jaw line.

  “But what happens if it doesn’t work out? Or … you … ” She steeled herself to say the words. “You find someone else and don’t know how to end it.” She couldn’t bear the pain of Marcos’ betrayal.

  In a flash, she understood she was falling hard for this man.

  Marcos leaned back in his chair and took several sips of wine, as if he was trying to determine the best way to answer the question.

  She held her breath.

  Finally, he spoke. “I am not proposing anything without thought,” he said, his blue eyes intense. “I told you I have done nothing but think about you since we met. I know a relationship must look impossible to you, you might even think we are happening too quickly, but I believe love can happen if we can both care for each other and talk about what we fear.”

  “But how can I believe you? I don’t know you! I thought I could trust Joe and look what happened.” She felt a betraying tear slip down her face and she wiped it away.

  “Cara, I told you. I know what it is to be betrayed and I would never do it to anyone, especially someone I care about.” He put his glass back on the table. “My wife and I are no longer together because I walked in on her in bed with someone I thought was my best friend. I know the pain you feel, Elizabeth, and I would never, ever hurt you that way. You must believe me.”

  She looked into his intense blue eyes and wished she could.

  • • •

  Marcos took her to Schramsberg Vineyards in the afternoon. The damp caves hand-dug into the mountains shut out the world around them. Cob-web ridden racks of aging champagne reminded her of the effort it took for the sweet life and how short it was.

  Was she being a fool? Tour guide droned on about assemblage, tirage and riddling while she tried to decide if she’d be able to adhere to her resolve not to make love with Marcos on the trip.

  Maybe if she just got him out of her system by sleeping with him, she could forget about him.

  She glanced at the lean man in form-fitting clothes beside her. Fat chance.

  M
arcos’s hand took hers, he leaned in and said, “Stop thinking.”

  She grinned. The man had a point. Instead of thinking, she could enjoy the touch of his hand as they walked back into the tasting room. And she could certainly enjoy the champagne tastings that were being poured for the group. She could live la dolce vita instead of always wondering when it was going to show up.

  Everything went better with champagne.

  “What do you call this in Italy?” she asked Marcos as she picked up the glass of sparkling wine.

  “Spumante — sweet sparkling, or prosecco — for something dry like this is.” He took a sip and smiled. “This is very, very good.”

  “Will you ever make champagne?”

  “It’s not in my plan, but if I get good Pinot Noir from the new vineyard … ” he shrugged. “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  He took another sip. “On the grapes, the weather, God, and … ” He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. “ … on the heart of a beautiful woman who thinks too much. You cannot make good champagne without love.”

  “Oh.”

  “I have heard it said,” he continued, “that a dentist asked a woman to marry him. She told him she would, but only if he promised her a bottle of champagne every night.” He sipped the wine in the next glass in the flight and wrinkled his nose. “Too sweet.”

  “So did he?”

  “He did her one better. He bought a vineyard and made his own champagne. That is what a man does for a woman he loves. That is what I will do for the woman I love.”

  Love. What was she supposed to do with his love? She couldn’t fall for someone like him. He was too … too … different.

  The problem was, she knew she had already fallen. If she ended it now, it would hurt less than if she did it later.

  Before leaving, Marcos purchased three bottles of sparkling wine. “One for tonight, one for tomorrow and one for the woman who deserves champagne as often as she wishes,” he said to the clerk.

  “Very good, sir,” the man replied.

  “I thought we might go back to the inn before dinner,” he said. “They have a nice hot tub that would be good for relaxing. You did bring your bathing suit?”

  She nodded. The thought of being semi-naked next to Marcos sent tingles through her body.

  “And then we go to dinner.”

  Back in her room, Elizabeth changed and wrapped the fluffy robe the inn had provided tightly around her. She eyed the jar of Amoré she’d slipped into her suitcase at the last minute.

  Did she dare?

  She stepped from the room and Marcos joined her in the hallway, also wearing a robe. He hadn’t bothered to belt it, so she had glimpses of a hair-covered chest and lanky legs.

  He must have caught her looking because he grinned. “Like what you see?”

  She blushed.

  “Don’t be afraid, cara. I am only a man.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  They padded down the stairs, out the back door and over the stone walkway to the hot tub. The water thrummed beneath the lid until Marcos manhandled it off the pool. He walked over and stared at the controls for a moment before pushing several buttons. Jets immediately started.

  He stripped off his robe and hung it on a hook.

  Elizabeth couldn’t help but stare. Deeply tanned olive skin covered lean muscle and bone. Black bathing trunks weren’t Speedo-tight, but didn’t leave a great deal to the imagination.

  Her shyness returned, making her feel like a teenager seeing a man for the first time.

  He moved behind her, put his arms around her waist and undid her belt. Slipping his hands up, he pulled back her robe, leaving her exposed except for a one-piece floral bathing suit. He hung the robe up, took her hand and helped her into the steaming tub.

  For a while, they soaked silently and Elizabeth relaxed, letting her head loll back on the edge of the pool, staring up into the gray skies above. The rain had abated by the time they left Schramsberg, leaving clean, but cooler air. The sun had yet to return.

  Marcos touched her leg and her eyes flew open. He was staring at her, eyes luminous with steam and desire. With one finger, he turned her face toward his and leaned forward to kiss her.

  She gave into the kiss without thinking, only acting on the desire building in her body. Her nipples perked achingly and longing suffused her loins. God she wanted him.

  She parted her lips, allowing him access to her mouth. His arms went around her, pulling her close, her breasts pressing against his chest as he drew her deeper into his lust. She tasted the wonder of him — his dreams and desires, his loyalty, and even his love. Softening more, she snaked her arm behind him where he leaned away from the wall and caressed his back. Strong muscles lay beneath the skin, rippling as he tightened his grasp on her.

  She was drowning in hope and possibilities.

  All of a sudden, her mind kicked in. What was she doing?

  She reined in her emotions and her body followed suit. He must have sensed the change, because he released her.

  “What, cara?” he asked as he caressed her face. “Why are you afraid?”

  A tear slipped down her face and he stroked it away with his thumb.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, trying to understand her own thoughts. Marcos had shown himself to be honorable and caring, why was she afraid? He wasn’t Joe. He was offering a life of freedom, exploring the world, working together and allowing her to do the things she loved most doing in the world.

  And he was damned sexy.

  What was wrong with her?

  “Too much thinking,” he said.

  “But what if … ”

  He let go of her and even so slight a loss was bitter.

  “‘What if’ was invented by people who were so afraid they forgot to live their own life,” he said. “You can imagine all the bad things that can happen and never take one step beyond the life you are living right now. Or … ” He leaned forward to her again. “You can take a risk — even a big risk — and see what happens.” He shrugged. “Maybe the bad thing will happen. Maybe something you never could imagine will come true. But you will never know unless you take the risk.”

  He kissed her gently on the lips. “I am taking a risk, too, Elizabeth. But I know you are worth the risk. Please trust me. I have told you everything there is to know. Except, perhaps, not clearly, that I am falling in love with you.”

  Love. There was that word again.

  “Cara, I would like to show you how I feel about you. Let me make love to you.”

  “In the hot tub?”

  He laughed loudly. “It is only you who could think like this. It makes me happy. No, cara, not in a hot tub. Upstairs. In my room. Let me. Please.”

  She didn’t have to think at all.

  Chapter 21

  Marcos held Elizabeth’s hand while he unlocked the door to his room. As soon as the lock clicked open, she shivered. Holding the door open with his foot, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, smelling a faint hint of musk from her skin, ratcheting up his desire even further.

  But he had to give her one more out.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I do not want to force you.”

  She nodded.

  He smiled with relief. “It will be all right, cara. Let me get you out of the wet clothes and I will make you warm.”

  As if she suddenly became aware of how few clothes she had on, Elizabeth pulled her robe closer around her.

  Marcos guided her into the room and shut the door behind them. He palmed her face and looked into her eyes, working to instill the trust and belief he wanted her to have. Switching to his native Italian, he murmured words of love and kissed her gently on her face, around her eyes, on the lids and trav
eled down to her detectible mouth.

  “Butterfly kisses,” he whispered, “for a woman who is going to emerge from her cocoon and become a vision of light and joy.” He caressed her mouth with his lips, tasting her sweet sensuality. He traveled down her soft neck, reaching the hollow at the bottom and spent time dabbing the sensitive spot with his tongue.

  He was rewarded with a soft moan.

  He returned to her lips and pressed his kiss upon her, releasing her belt with his right hand.

  She didn’t seem to notice, so he continued his assault on her mouth while he slipped the robe from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Behind the thin fabric of the bathing suit her nipples pebbled and goosebumps dappled the visible part of her breasts pulsing with her breaths.

  “Come,” he said, leading her to the bathroom. If she became too cold, she would begin to think again.

  He cranked the shower on full blast, slipped off his robe and led her into the shower, a tiled enclosure large enough for four. He cupped her face again and moved her to a position where warm water sluiced over her body.

  “Feel it, cara. Absorb the warmth of the water. You are safe here. Nothing will happen to you.”

  She closed her eyes, thick lashes resting on her porcelain cheeks. He meant what he said. He’d protect her. Their lives wouldn’t be conventional, but he’d make sure she would always trust him, never be afraid. He’d provide for her the best he could, and with her help, they would have everything they needed.

  He caressed her body, running his hands up and down her arms and legs, careful to avoid the sensitive parts. Bit by bit, he felt her relax under his ministrations. He pulled her closer and lowered his lips to hers, this time demanding more from her.

  She gave him what he asked, opening her mouth to him and leaning into his body as the kiss became deeper and their tongues twined together, hungry for the taste of love.

  “Ready?” he asked, he hands paused on her shoulders.