Читать книгу Italian Maverick's Collection - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 50

Оглавление

CHAPTER TWELVE

WHAT WAS UP with Jules?

More importantly, what was up with him?

Stefano stared blindly at the blinking cursor on the computer monitor. Ever since they’d kissed, things had shifted between them. He’d lost his footing where Jules was concerned. And try as he might to get back to that solid ground of casual acquaintances, he couldn’t quite reach that plateau.

Instead, he’d tried losing himself in his work, like he’d done ever since Gianna’s tragic death, but that wasn’t working, either. His father was quite productive. By the time Stefano got back from his excursions to Rome with Jules, there wasn’t much for him to do, certainly nothing comprehensive requiring his full attention. And time on his hands at this point was not a good thing. All he could think about was kissing Jules. A definite no-no.

Resisting her was getting harder and harder, especially when she slipped her soft hand in his. Did she have any clue what her touch did to him? And then she’d lift her chin and smile up at him, and his heart would careen into his ribs. His common sense fizzled and shorted out. His only saving grace had been that she always pulled away before he could act on his impulses.

With a frustrated sigh, he glanced at the clock, finding it was almost lunchtime. He shut down the computer. It’d been a waste of a morning as he’d barely gotten a thing done for thinking about his beautiful houseguest.

Yesterday after they’d left the bakery, Jules had wanted some time to do a little shopping. He hadn’t minded. He’d needed some time alone before sharing the small confines of the auto with her. He especially needed a break after that lady at the bakery kept going on and on about them being a couple. And it didn’t help that sometimes when Jules turned her green gaze on him, it was as though she was trying to tell him something—as if she wanted more from him than what he could offer her...or anyone.

Or was he seeing what he wanted to see? That thought stopped him in his tracks as he made his way from the barn to the house. Was it possible Jules, with her outrageous makeup and hip clothes, had somehow gotten to him? His steps faltered. After all this time telling himself that he’d had it with love, was he starting to fall for the girl from New York?

He gave his head a shake. Wasn’t going to happen. He resumed his trek to the villa. Suddenly his appetite for lunch had disappeared. All he could think about was Jules and how her green eyes spoke to him—telling him of her past emotional wounds. His gut reaction was to protect her and show her that life didn’t have to be so hard. But how could he do that when he knew for a fact that life was unpredictable and quite unfair?

No, the best thing he could do for both of them was to back away. He’d been wrong to get so invested in this wedding. He might be the groom’s brother and best man, but he didn’t do wedding planning. By now Jules should know how to get into the city on her own and with all the electronic wizardry on her phone, she’d find her way around.

Yes, that’s what he’d do. He’d back out of this wedding froufrou and submerge himself in work. After all, there was a tour and wine-tasting event on the calendar. He could think of ways to expand it, perhaps by adding some tales from his family’s colorful history. He didn’t have anything specific in mind, but he’d think on it.

He’d just neared the house when Jules stepped outside. His thoughts screeched to a halt as he took in her appearance. Her very different appearance. He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

She was wearing a pale blue cotton dress. It was short, just above the knee, and the skirt flared out a bit. The waist was snug and hinted at her curves. Her very fine curves. He struggled to keep his mouth from gaping open. His gaze traveled up over the white stripes of the bodice and stopped at her bare shoulders and arms. The only things holding up that scrap of a dress were two thin straps. A lump formed in his throat.

She smiled at him, and the whole world seemed to glow. “Do you like my new purchase?”

“It’s um...very nice.” He forced his gaze to meet hers.

“Walk with me.”

Her request wasn’t a question, but rather a honeyed command—one he wasn’t about to disobey. She passed by him, and all he could do was stare. It was then that he noticed her hair. There were no ponytails. Instead her dark wavy hair was loose and flowing down her back. What in the world? She’d never worn it like that before, but he certainly approved.

He took long strides to catch up to her. “Where are we going?”

“To the barn. I still haven’t seen it, and I thought...well, I hoped that you might have a few minutes to show me around.”

She wanted to see the winery? And she wanted him to show her around? What could it hurt? Maybe this would be a good prelude to him letting her know that he’d changed his mind about working on the wedding planning with her.

“Sure. Is there anything in particular that you want to see?”

Her sun-kissed shoulders rose and fell. “Whatever you want to show me will be fine.”

She was actually interested in his work—in his heritage. That was an area where Gianna had never showed any interest. The only thing that she had to say about the vineyard was that it took up all his time and that it kept them from moving to the city. He hadn’t realized when they’d married that she expected a different sort of life. He figured that marrying a local girl would ensure that they both wanted a quiet way of life. He’d been so wrong.

He gave Jules the grand tour, starting at the office, and then they moved on to the processing room, where during the harvest the grapes were hand sorted. He showed her the barrel room where the wine was aged. The tour concluded in the spacious wine-tasting room with its long, thin table for the guests.

“We should head back for lunch.” He guided her outside.

“Thank you for the personal tour. I really enjoyed it. I’m just sorry I’ll miss seeing all of the activity during the harvest.”

“You always have an open invitation to return anytime.”

She peered deeply into his eyes, and his heart thumped hard and fast. When she glanced away, her butterfly tattoo caught his attention. Just the tips of the wings peeked out of the dress’s neckline. He longed to see all of it. He’d never seen anything so captivating. A struggle warred within him—common sense versus his raging testosterone. And the testosterone was taking the lead.

Jules turned away and started to walk. “This estate is so big. You certainly don’t have to worry about bothering any of your neighbors.”

The land was the last thing on his mind, but he struggled to make intelligent conversation. “Over the generations, it has grown. Buying more of the surrounding properties was a priority.”

“Are you still looking into expanding?”

“If the opportunity presents itself, sure. But it isn’t my focus.” His only interest now was finding out if her lips were as sweet as the finest brachetto grape.

“What is your priority?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that it was her—that making her deliriously happy was his priority. But he bit back the ridiculous words before he could utter them. What in the world was getting into him?

He cleared his throat as he searched for a reasonable answer. “The quality of the wine. And broadening our interaction with the public.”

Her footsteps were muffled by the grass. “Sounds exciting.”

“You think so?”

“I do. I love the vineyard. I’m sure others will love it, too. It’s so peaceful and relaxing. I can see why you stayed on and continue to work with your father.”

“But surely you wouldn’t do the same thing if roles were reversed.” She was a city girl, born and bred. The tranquility was just a novelty thing. Sooner or later she’d want to move on...just like his late wife.

“I could definitely see me living here. In another world, I’d have a big family with lots of room for the kids to play. And cats. And dogs. And maybe a horse or two.”

“Talk about a menagerie. Are you sure you’d be up for all of that?”

She shrugged. “It isn’t like it’s ever going to happen. I don’t live here, and as you well know I’m not exactly the poster girl for motherhood. But sometimes it’s nice to dream.”

“I don’t see why you have to dream when you can make it a reality. Well, at least the part of being a mother and having a menagerie of cats and dogs.”

She stopped and stared up at him. “Look at me.”

He did as she asked. His heart started to pound again. He held his body rigid, resisting the urge to pull her close. He recalled vividly how soft her curves were, and his resolve wavered.

“No, really look at me.” Her serious tone snapped him to attention. “What do you see?”

“I see your beautiful face without all of that makeup.”

“I didn’t see much point in it without air-conditioning. I end up wiping most of it off throughout the day.”

“That’s good.” When her brows lifted in a questioning fashion, he added, “I mean it’s good that you gave up on the makeup. You don’t need it.”

The truth was that she was even more beautiful without it. She had such a fresh young face, and it needed no enhancement at all. He was captivated by her natural beauty. And with her hair loose and blowing in the breeze, she had a down-to-earth appeal. No longer did she look like she’d just walked off a rock video. Now she looked like someone who might actually belong in his world. But part of him missed her hip, chic look. That in and of itself surprised him.

Her head tilted to the side, but her gaze never left his. “What are you thinking?”

He hadn’t realized he’d gotten so caught up in his thoughts. “I was thinking about you.”

“And what did you decide?”

“That you are beautiful.” He looked deep into her eyes and saw disbelief. He’d have to prove it to her. “Your green eyes are a shade or two deeper than the grape leaves. And your long, dark lashes make your eyes very alluring. Your skin is smooth and makes me long to run my fingers down its velvety softness.”

Color rose in her cheeks. “You’re missing the point. The scars. You can’t miss them. And they’re ugly.”

“They aren’t ugly. You aren’t ugly.”

She shook her head. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m speaking the truth.” He desperately wanted her to believe him.

“No, you aren’t.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t tell you the details before, maybe I should now. Maybe then you’ll understand why I find the scars so ugly.”

He opened his mouth to protest but then closed it without saying a word. Perhaps talking about it would be good for her.

“I told you that my mother did this to me, but what I didn’t tell you was that it was during one of her drunken bouts. She was angry because she’d run out of vodka. I was on my way home from playing with the neighbor. She smacked me and I lost my balance at the top of the porch steps. Down I went, hitting...hitting my head on the edge of the steps and landing on the cement sidewalk.”

Stefano clenched his hands. How could a mother do that to her own child? It was inconceivable. And yet the only words he could find to convey his sympathy seemed so inadequate. And it really didn’t matter because no words could make up for what she’d experienced at the hand of the one person who was supposed to love and protect her.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was the best thing to happen to me.” Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, but she kept it together. “When I lived with my mother, there was never enough to eat. Rarely was there clean laundry. And the longer it went on, the meaner she became. If they hadn’t taken me away, I’d have never met Lizzie.” Jules stopped and drew in an uneven breath. “My mother wasn’t strong enough to take care of both of us. Eventually she turned to drugs and OD’d. Now do you finally understand why I shouldn’t be a mother?”

“I think that you’re amazing and the strongest person I know.” He meant every single word. She had impressed him before this, and now he was just in awe of her. “And above it all, I still believe you can achieve whatever you set your mind on. But none of that changes what I see when I look at you. You’re beautiful. From the wrinkle in your forehead when you’re confused to the tip of your nose to your rosy lips that are just ripe for tasting.”

And without thinking of the ramifications of what he was about to do, he leaned forward and lowered his head. The only thing that mattered now was making her feel better. He had to let her know that those scars didn’t define her. She was beautiful in spite of them. And her beauty resonated from the inside out.

His lips gently brushed against hers. He didn’t want to scare her off. When he pulled back a little, he heard her undeniable sigh of enjoyment. She liked his touch, and he liked touching her. What would it hurt to follow up that kiss with another one?

He sought out her lips again. They were sweet like chocolate. His hands slipped around her waist, and she leaned into him. He’d been waiting so long to do this again. And it was even better than what he’d remembered.

The kiss went on and on. She should be kissed like this and often. Jules deserved to be cherished and loved. And if somehow he could convince her of this, he would. He couldn’t imagine her throwing her life away because of some scars that weren’t even that noticeable.

Her soft curves molded perfectly to him. And when a soft moan reached his ears, he wasn’t so sure which of them had made the sound of pure pleasure. Not that it mattered as her fingers wrapped around his neck and raked through his hair, sending a whole new wave of excitement through him. Every nerve ending stood at attention.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

The sound of his father’s distant voice sent them flying apart as though lightning had struck the ground between them. Her cheeks turned a dusty pink and her lips a shade of deep rosy red. She looked as if she’d been ravished. And he’d never seen her look more beautiful.

Stefano gave himself a mental jerk. What in the world had he just let happen? His gaze sought out Jules. He meant to send her a sympathetic look, but her eyes wouldn’t meet his. Instead of making things better, he’d only succeeded in making them worse.

Him, the man who’d sworn off relationships, was standing in the open, drowning in the sweetest kiss. Not that the kiss constituted a relationship. He combed his fingers through his hair. Somehow he had to put things back on track between them. He promised himself that he wouldn’t lose control around her again.

With his father just far enough down the path, Stefano lowered his voice to say, “That shouldn’t have happened. I don’t know what I was thinking. It...it was a mistake. I know neither of us is looking for a relationship.”

He steeled himself and turned to his father, who was making his way to the house from the winery. His father’s eyes danced with merriment, but his face was devoid of the mischievous smile that Stefano could only imagine would materialize after he passed them.

“I...we were just on our way back from a tour of the winery.”

His father nodded. “I guess I don’t need to ask how it went.”

Stefano couldn’t believe he was having such fun at his expense. This was something his father never would have bothered with when he was a kid. Back then his father was quite stoic and didn’t joke around. But lately he’d been seeing more and more changes in him. Any other time Stefano would have welcomed this transformation, but not now—not with Jules. And not when he’d made such a monumental mistake. Whatever made him think that kissing her was such a good idea?

“Stefano, did you hear me?”

His father was staring at him expectantly, but Stefano hadn’t heard a word. “What?”

“I said you better hurry or you’ll never catch up to her.”

Stefano glanced around, finding that Jules had taken off toward the house. Great! Could this get any worse? He stopped that line of thought as he knew all too well that things could always get worse. He swore under his breath.

He started after her. He didn’t have a clue what he would say to her. Maybe it’d be best to just let her go. She’d get over the kiss quickly enough. After all, it hadn’t meant anything. Nothing at all. Except it felt as if it had been the beginning of something—something profound. His teeth ground together as he stifled a groan of frustration.

His world had been orderly until Jules had entered it. He was a widower of his own making. Being alone was punishment for his actions. If he hadn’t been so stubborn, if he hadn’t pushed Gianna into marrying him, she’d still be here—still be alive. His footsteps faltered.

The problems came after they’d married and he’d found out that they wanted different things in life. She wanted excitement and fun. He wanted stability and routine. Where he enjoyed kicking back in front of the large-screen television to watch football, she wanted to dress up and go to the theater. The love they’d initially felt started to dwindle with each passionate disagreement. And then that fateful night.

He couldn’t let the past repeat itself. Though he highly doubted that Jules would take off in his car, he couldn’t take the chance. He couldn’t let this misunderstanding linger between them. There had to be a way to fix what he’d broken. Maybe if he’d have done that with Gianna, she’d still be alive.

When he entered the kitchen, Jules was nowhere to be found. Maria stood at the counter, stirring a pasta salad. She turned to him. It wasn’t often just the two of them stood in the kitchen. He was tempted to ask her if there was something going on between her and his father. He resisted, still unsure how he felt about the idea of them hooking up.

“Did you need something?” Maria wiped her hands on a little white apron trimmed with purple grapes.

“Um, no.” Now wasn’t the time to get into it. He had enough problems on his hands.

“Are you sure? Because if you’re looking for Jules, she tore through here a minute or two ago.” Maria sent him a disapproving look before pointing to the upstairs.

“Thanks. I’ll check on her.” He rushed past Maria and headed for the spiraling staircase. He took the steps two at a time. He didn’t know what he’d say to Jules when he found her. He’d have to wing this one.

* * *

What a fool she’d been.

Jules picked up Apricot and snuggled her nose down into the downy soft fur. A loud purr vibrated through the little kitten’s body. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

What had she been thinking back there in the field? It was as if she were a kid with the biggest crush in the world. When Stefano had looked at her with desire in his eyes, she’d forgotten everything but feeling the excitement and passion of his lips moving over hers.

Then to have him push away from her and try to dismiss the moment as though it meant nothing hurt more than the rude comments she’d received back in school about her scars. The cruel comments kids threw out about how she was defective and that’s why her own parents didn’t even want her had cut deeply. But Stefano’s actions had surpassed that pain.

Why, oh, why did she ever think that he might be different? Just because his brother had accepted Lizzie with her less-than-stellar past didn’t mean that Stefano would be as open-minded. Sure he said all the right things, but that was just because he was a gentleman. It didn’t mean that everything he said was true—not when it came to her scars or her past.

A knock at her door had Apricot squirming to get out of her hands. Jules moved next to the bed so that the little one would have a soft landing.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Stefano. We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” She was being childish, and she knew it. She just didn’t know what to say to him at the moment. Her emotions were raw and conflicting.

“I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

She started for the door, but before she could get to it, it swung open. And there stood Stefano. His large physique filled the doorway. There was no getting past him even if she wanted to. His forehead was creased, and his dark brows were drawn together. His gaze zeroed in on her and made her want to turn away, but she refused to let on how much he’d hurt her.

She leveled her shoulders and crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

“I told you we need to talk.”

“And I told you I don’t want to talk. I...I have stuff to do.”

“Such as?”

“I need to make more paper flowers.” Deciding that it would be good to have something to do with her hands, she moved to the dresser and started gathering the items she’d need.

She heard the door swing shut, followed by his approaching footsteps. His fingers encircled her arm. “Those can wait. This can’t.”

She glanced at his hand on her bare arm and then lifted her chin. “You make it sound like life or death.”

“It could be.” He sighed and shook his head. “I need to apologize.”

“Wait. Why might this be life or death?” What was she missing? Obviously it was something big.

“Because...oh, it doesn’t matter. I want to apologize for kissing you—”

“Why? It isn’t your fault that this—” she pointed to the half-moon scar next to her eye “—is so ugly that it repulses you.” She started to turn away.

He gripped her shoulders in his strong hands and pulled her around so that they were face-to-face. “It doesn’t repulse me. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re beautiful before you believe me?”

She shook her head, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall. “But the scars are ugly. I’m ugly. That’s why I wear the makeup. It hides things.”

“You don’t have to hide.” His voice was deep and soothing.

“Yes, I do.” She pulled away from his hold. “Look at me. I tried to play this your way. I tried to look like everyone else around here. I bought different clothes. I didn’t put on my makeup. I even brushed out my hair and wore it loose. And still it doesn’t work. I’m still different.”

He smiled at her. “You’re right—you are different.”

If this was his way of making her feel better, he was doing a lousy job. “Just go.”

“Not until I tell you this.” When she didn’t look at him, his thumb moved to her chin and lifted it. “Being different isn’t bad. Being different is something to be proud of. Just make sure you’re doing it because it’s what makes you happy and you aren’t doing it just to make a statement or to hide.”

“I wanted to dress like the other women in your life. I wanted to be like everyone else.”

“You’ll never be like everyone else. You are special. To me.”

And then his head dipped and his lips pressed to hers. Her heart tumbled in her chest. He did care about her, scars and all. She knew that life wasn’t that easy and that she shouldn’t fall for him, but the reasons to hold back and keep him at a safe distance were eluding her at the moment.

His kiss was filled with heat, leaving no doubt in her mind that he desired her. And she wanted him, too. She wanted him more than she could say. But when he lifted his head and looked her in the eyes, the doubts started to crowd in.

“They’ll be looking for us at lunch.” Her feet refused to cooperate. She stayed right there in his very capable arms.

“They won’t wonder about us for long.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “They know you’re up here with me?”

He nodded. “Maria pointed out your whereabouts. Don’t worry—no one will disturb us.”

Suddenly she felt like a kid making out in her boyfriend’s house with his parents in the next room. She knew she was being ridiculous. This was a massive villa. The dining room and kitchen were at the other end. And they were consenting adults. Still...

“I want you.” Stefano’s voice was husky with desire, leaving no doubt in her mind about his intention.

“I want you, too.”

Italian Maverick's Collection

Подняться наверх