Читать книгу Heard It Through The Grapevine - Pamela Browning - Страница 12

Josh drove away in his rented BMW, still smarting from Gina’s rejection. In the rearview mirror, he saw a light flick on upstairs in the cottage. He slowed the car and leaned his head out the window to glance back. Gina’s shapely silhouette was framed in the square of light, showing off her considerable attributes.

Which happened to include what might be the most voluptuous breasts he’d ever seen; not that he’d actually seen them, but give him time. And that long elegant neck of hers, and that thick mane of naturally ash-blond hair, which set off to perfection her tawny complexion and dark, dark eyes. As Gina moved from one side of the room to the other, Josh accelerated quickly so he wouldn’t be witness to whatever she did next. He might have the hots for her, but a Peeping Tom he was not.

Business. I’m here on business, he reminded himself. At the moment, however, pleasure seemed a whole lot more important.

When he reached the large two-story house near the river where he’d rented an apartment yesterday, Mrs. Upthegrove, his landlady, was walking her beagle, Sadie, along the path leading to the back of the house. The landlady was as spare and tall as Sadie was short and fat, which disproved the idea that dog owners tended to resemble their dogs.

“Hello, Josh,” she said pleasantly, tossing long salt-and-pepper bangs back from her face. “How’s your room? You’ve got a hundred and something TV channels in there because of my new satellite dish.”

Josh hadn’t turned on the TV since he’d arrived, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her. “Everything’s great,” he said. His apartment had been carved from the bottom floor of the house and consisted of the former library, an enormous bathroom and a bedroom that had once been a large pantry.

“Did you find Gina at her shop, like I said?”

“Yes,” he said, figuring that he might as well stop to scratch an adoring Sadie behind her floppy ears.

“Gina’s in a position to help you learn more about the wine country for the article you’re writing.”

He’d said that an article was in the works, which was true. But that wasn’t the only reason he was visiting the Napa Valley. He was prepared to remain mum on that topic, however, so as not to blow his cover.

“Thanks for pointing me in the right direction.”

“Oh, no problem. Let me know if I can do anything else to help.”

He turned to walk away, but Mrs. Upthegrove, who had urged him to call her Judy Rae yesterday when he’d written her a check for a month’s rent, followed along.

“Was it wonderful for you and Gina to get reacquainted after two years?” the landlady asked with great interest. “Was she happy to see you?”

“It was great,” Josh replied, though he wasn’t sure this was true for Gina. He’d skip answering the second question, since the moment she’d recognized him Gina had ordered him out of her shop.

“Good,” said his landlady with great satisfaction. “I always thought you chose the wrong woman. That Tahoma was bad news.”

He couldn’t have agreed more, but he had his key at the ready to unlock the door and didn’t want to prolong the conversation any longer than necessary. “Good night, Mrs. Upthegrove,” he said firmly.

“Judy Rae,” she reminded him, so he repeated it after her and closed the door before she could say anything more.

His apartment was configured so that he entered it through the bedroom, which was small, but the double bed was comfortable and the window faced the meandering Napa River. The living room, or the former library, was sumptuously paneled in mellow old oak, and three walls of shelves housed books. At one end was a small rudimentary kitchen, and beside it the entrance to the bathroom, which had a tub with claw feet and a floor made of shiny dark green marble.

This apartment, like the smaller one next door, was tastefully furnished with cast-off furniture from the rest of the house, which Judy Rae had confided was too expensive to maintain without tenants to help with the bills. Some of the pieces, like the bed, were antiques. Others were new, such as the gaily patterned rug covering the tile floor.

Josh peeled off his clothes, lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling in the dim light from the lamp across the room. For a moment, he wished he were home in Boston. Yet if he were miraculously able to transport himself to his own comfortable town house on Beacon Hill, he wouldn’t be plotting how to wangle more time with Gina Angelini, as he was now.

Gina. Her very name made him feel all warm inside. Gina Angelini, Gina the angel, Gina the beautiful. Why had he ever turned her away?

Because, in his judgment at the time, she was too natural and unspoiled, too gentle and sweet, to be subjected to the media attention sure to follow his choice. Throughout the filming of the show, Gina had sent signals that she was uncomfortable with celebrity; she had been noticeably homesick when she first arrived in Scotland. Still, he’d felt an affinity toward her immediately, from the moment their eyes met.

There’d been an indefinable spark. An undercurrent of excitement that made their every encounter sizzle. He’d often wanted to spirit her away from the artificial atmosphere of the show, but he’d had obligations. He had a contract with the producers that prohibited him from deviating from a certain script. And in the end, he couldn’t imagine anyone as honest and upfront as Gina appearing with him on Good Morning, America or Oprah to bill and coo on cue for the cameras. So he’d chosen that hussy Tahoma. But he had regrets. Boy, did he ever.

He fell into a fitful sleep, crazy dreams cartwheeling through his mind so that he woke often. Each time he tried to go back to sleep, there was Gina, her unforgettable face lulling him back to dreamland. Gina smiling, Gina frowning, Gina and that come-hither bat of her eyelashes that he suspected was entirely unwitting.

Finally, when the bedside clock read six o’clock, Josh gave up on sleeping. He swung his feet out of bed and padded across the floor to the bathroom, where he shaved in record time. He had business in the Napa Valley that required his attention, but how could he concentrate on it if all he thought about was Gina, Gina, Gina?

AS SOON AS HE FINISHED getting dressed, Josh drove over to Good Thymes, less than a mile away, and parked his car in the same spot as yesterday. He couldn’t help glancing automatically at the upstairs window where he had seen Gina’s lush silhouette last night. The windows were open now, the curtains looped back, and there was no sign of her. In the lemony first light of day, the cottage seemed like an illustration from a fairy tale, with its weathered green shutters and faded red front door. He half expected Cinderella or Snow White to appear and beckon him inside.

Only it was Gina who appeared on the doorstep, carrying a basket over one arm and looking amazed to see him. He didn’t know why. Had she thought he’d give up so easily?

Taking advantage of her speechlessness, he walked over and gestured at the basket. “Going to Grandmother’s house, Little Red Riding Hood?”

“No, but if I’m Little Red Riding Hood, what does that make you? The wolf?” She walked down the steps and alongside the flagstone path leading through the rose arbor to the garden.

He was right behind her. “Yes,” he said. “The better to harass you, my dear.”

“I don’t deserve it,” she said loftily. “You might as well annoy someone else.” She unhooked the gate latch.

“I tried annoying someone. She had a boyfriend already.”

“You mean Tahoma? Smart girl.”

Josh didn’t like the way this conversation was going, but he followed along doggedly even though she let the arbor gate swing back to punch him in the stomach.

“Oof,” he said, and she grinned back at him as she made her way past the dew-drenched plants to the back of the garden.

“Next time don’t walk so close behind me,” she said.

“I’m keeping a decent distance between us,” he told her as she bent down among the rosemary bushes.

“Your idea of decent and mine could be quite different,” she said. In the misty morning light, she seemed ethereal and more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. There was also more than a hint of determination in the cant of her jaw, and a mote of resolution in her eyes.

He decided to tackle the problem head-on. “What is your main objection to me?” he asked mildly.

She tilted her head to one side, which only increased her desirability. She was wearing a loose chambray smock over her jeans, and it was unbuttoned low enough to show a hint of cleavage. He swallowed, realizing that she wore no bra. The thought of her breasts swinging unfettered beneath the light fabric made concentrating on her answer to his question hard.

“Number one should be obvious,” she said, tossing a sprig of rosemary into her basket. “You dumped me in front of millions of people.”

“I thought I expl—”

“Number two, there’s no future in it. We’re from different worlds, you and me. I’m from a simple farming family. You live in Boston and went to prep school. You graduated from an Ivy League college, while I only managed one year at UC-Sacramento before I had to drop out and work at the winery. Number three…” She stopped talking and regarded him coolly. “I’m still trying to think of reason number three,” she said lamely.

“Does there have to be a future in every relationship?” he asked heatedly. “Isn’t it enough to renew old acquaintance and see what develops?”

“Maybe for you,” Gina said, half rising and settling herself down in a new place.

“As for your simple farming family, between bocce games I met your cousin Greg who has a Ph.D. in chemistry and teaches at a private college in San Francisco. There was nothing simple about Greg.”

“It’s true, Gregory is very intelligent.” Unperturbed, she tossed several more sprigs into the basket.

Josh continued. “Your cousin Carla seems to have a brilliant grasp of how to build a public relations career. When I was on my return trip to the buffet table, your mother treated me to a fascinating discourse on baking bread and rolls for your aunt Dede’s catering service. Don’t run down your family, Gina. I told you I think they’re wonderful.”

“Yes, you did, and yes, they are.”

It annoyed him that she wouldn’t give him something to refute, anything that would help him prove the point that she ought to stop pushing him away.

“We could at least go out to dinner.”

She nailed him with an unfathomable look. “Last night all you wanted was drinks. Now it’s dinner. I haven’t even given you an inch, and you’re already trying to take a mile.”

“Come on, Gina, I hardly know anyone in town. Be a good sport and keep me company for a couple of hours.”

“You’re tearing at my heartstrings.” His wheedling seemed to have made no difference at all, and here he was slugging away, trying his hardest.

He forced an expression of optimism. “Good. Does that mean you’ll go?”

She leaned back, shaded her eyes against the rising sun with her hand and squinted up at him. “Tell you what, Josh. You go back to Boston and I’ll let you know if I change my mind. In other words, don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

He let out a long low whistle of appreciation. “You’re one tough cookie, Gina Angelini.” He couldn’t help grinning down at her.

For a moment, he thought she might be wavering, but no. She did grin back at him, though, and there was a flicker of something—communion? camaraderie?—behind her eyes.

“And you’re one persistent fellow,” she said, almost without missing a beat.

Whatever else he had in mind to say was lost in the shuffle when two pint-size whirlwinds burst through the gate.

“Gina, Gina! Guess what!” Frankie was first, with Mia hot on his heels. Both of them carried backpacks.

“Frankie’s dog is gonna have puppies! And Mom said we could have one!”

Gina rose gracefully and smiled at Mia, whose excitement at this good news was written all over her face. “That’s wonderful,” she said warmly.

Mia noticed Josh for the first time. “It’s gonna be a girl and I’m gonna dress it up in doll clothes,” she declared.

Frankie grimaced. “Fat chance. You do that and I’m taking the puppy back.”

“We always used to dress our dog, Charlie, in doll clothes, and he liked it,” Mia said.

“No way,” Frankie said. He turned to Josh. “Say, Josh, would you like a puppy? Last time Beauty had puppies there were seven.”

“No, Frankie. Thank you, but I don’t have enough room in my apartment in Boston for a dog.”

Frankie gave Josh a look of incredulity. “You don’t? That’s awful. You’d better move right away.”

Josh laughed, liking the look of Gina as she smoothed Mia’s unruly hair and adjusted Frankie’s collar. He’d never thought of Gina as maternal, yet he could imagine how she’d be someday with her own children, by turns solicitous and gently admonitory. They’d be cute kids, too, if they inherited her piquant features.

Gina smiled indulgently at both children. “You’d better get out to the road. It’s almost time for the school bus.”

“’Bye, Aunt Gina. See you later. ‘Bye, Josh.”

“Let me know if you want a puppy,” Frankie said before he raced after Mia.

“Mia said she lives next door, but I didn’t realize that Frankie and Rocco lived so close,” Josh said into the silence they left behind.

“They’re right down the road. One of the reasons I bought this place was that my sister and Rocco were nearby.” She knelt and began to pluck weeds from the soil, turning her back toward him.

Josh sat down on a low stone bench nearby. “You mean the cottage wasn’t always in the family?”

Gina took note of his occupation of the bench, seemed about to say something, then perhaps thought better of it. She shook her head. “This was a country store that was put out of business by the convenience stores that started springing up around here a few years back. The owner moved away and I bought it for my herb business a year and a half ago. I was lucky that I could live above the shop. I hated to move out of Mother’s house, but she was ready to scale down to an apartment by then, she said. She’s getting along fine, and so am I.”

“Most of the people I know could hardly wait to move out of their parents’ homes,” he observed carefully. Gina was how old now—twenty-nine? No, thirty-one. That was a long time to live at home.

She must have noticed his perplexity because she appeared to feel the need for explanation. “Mother needed me after my father died,” she said quietly. “They were inseparable, and his final illness exhausted her. Barb had already married, and it was up to me to take care of our mother. She’d always been a stay-at-home mom and was faced with getting a job, which I thought would be a difficult adjustment. Fortunately, she’s launched a new career with Aunt Dede’s catering service and loves it.”

Josh would bet that Maren Angelini was every bit as independent as her daughter. “I like your mother,” he said.

“Most people do.” Gina stood up. He did, too, following her as she headed back toward the cottage. She stopped at the back door to wipe the mud off her feet. “Now,” she said with the utmost patience, “I’d better go in and get ready for the rest of my workday.”

“What time does the store open?”

“Nine o’clock.”

“I’ll be back to buy something.”

“Josh, stop it. You’re a pest. Go. Now.” She wasn’t as put out with him as she sounded, if he judged her correctly. Her mouth quirked up at the corners, and she couldn’t hide the warm amused light in her eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’m out of here. But remember, Gina, the Big Bad Wolf only pretended to leave. Once he was out of sight, he circled around the woods until he could surprise Little Red at another juncture in the road.”

He thought she might burst into laughter at that, but she only lifted her eyebrows. “Well, Josh, you’ve described your MO very well so far. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised when you show up at Grandmother’s house wearing her nightcap and sleeping in her bed.”

She’d given him an opening and he delighted in using it. “It’s not your grandmother’s bed I want to sleep in. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

Again he thought she might laugh. But she only said, “Ooh, Grandma, what big teeth you have.” Then she tripped on into the house and shut the door in his face.

Josh laughed to himself and went off to find a place where he could buy a decent cup of coffee. Then he’d make a few phone calls. If all went well he might be able to arrive back here by ten o’clock or so.

He wasn’t about to give up on Gina so easily.

JOSH DIDN’T WASTE TIME on any of the trendy tourist hangouts around town. He discovered a real old-fashioned diner called Mom’s on the outskirts of Rio Robles, its squatty silver shape boldly contrasting with the hazy mountain peaks in the distance. After quickly sizing up the vehicles in the parking lot, he decided that the large number of pickups boded well for finding a lot of grape growers inside. He’d dressed in jeans and a plain gray sweatshirt so he’d fit in with the locals, and when he sauntered in, hardly a head turned in his direction.

The tantalizing odor of bacon and fried onions assailed his nostrils. The regulars spared glances in his direction before returning to their conversations or newspapers. “Coffee, please,” he said to the guy behind the counter as he hoisted himself up on a red-vinyl-and-chrome stool. The guy stood almost seven feet tall and had to stoop to walk into the low-ceilinged area where the coffee was made, and when he returned with Josh’s cup, Josh saw that the name written on his uniform was Mom.

“Hey, Mom, I’ll have another one of those doughnuts,” called a man sitting at the end of the counter. Mom reached into a covered container, withdrew a powdered doughnut and tossed it under his arm to its intended recipient. Whereupon everyone chuckled, including Josh.

“Good old Mom, he keeps it lively in here,” said the man next to him. He set a folded copy of The Juice: A Journal for Growers down beside Josh and took a long pull from his cup.

“That’s his real name?”

“Yeah, ’fraid so. It’s Momford or Mumford or some unfortunate name like that. I can sympathize, since my parents named me Maurice. I go by Mike.”

Josh extended his hand. “Josh Corbett,” he said.

“Oh, you’re that Mr. Moneybags guy who came all the way from Boston to get reacquainted with Gina.”

Josh was slightly taken aback at the familiarity. “Not exactly. I have business here, and it made sense to look her up.”

“I heard that some of the Angelinis were surprised when you showed up at their crush last night.” Mike eyed him curiously.

“How do you know?”

“That’s the scuttlebutt.”

“There’s gossip already? I only arrived two days ago.”

“I see Devon Vost every morning when I drop my daughter off at day care. She’s Gina’s cousin.”

Josh vaguely remembered Devon, a cheerful young woman with a kind face whom he’d met at crush. He wondered why she would be telling this Mike person what the Angelinis thought about his showing up.

Mike answered his unasked question. “You see, Devon is married to my sister’s brother-in-law. Practically everyone you’ll meet around here is related to the Angelinis in some way.”

Josh sipped his coffee; it was good. He thought about asking Mom for a doughnut but discarded the idea, amusing though it was to watch one flying through the air.

“They seemed friendly,” he said to Mike. “The Angelinis, I mean.”

“There are no nicer people in the world. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of them, though. About Gina—everyone thinks she’s pretty special, and folks in Rio Robles didn’t like it that she wasn’t picked to win the million dollars.”

“I gathered that,” Josh said on a note of regret.

Mike eyed Josh speculatively. “You’re not figuring to make a play for her, are you?”

Josh didn’t want to tip his cards to someone he’d just met. “You never know,” he said.

“You do that and you hurt Gina again, the Angelinis won’t let you get away with it.”

Great. A threat. That was all he needed.

“What kind of business did you say you have here?” asked Mike.

He hadn’t. “I’m writing an article about the valley.”

“For some big newspaper or something?”

“No, it’s for a company newsletter. The company has an interest in winemaking.” A recent interest, and the article would appear in the newsletter after the beverage conglomerate in which his family had a controlling interest bought out a winery or two in the valley. This was all hush-hush so far, and it was going to stay that way, at least as long as Josh had anything to say about it.

“You might like to read The Juice,” Mike said, pushing it toward Josh. “Being that you write for a newsletter and all.”

Josh accepted the folded paper and stood up. “I’d better be going. Thanks for the paper and the warning,” he said as he tossed a bill on the counter.

“Sure. Nice meeting you. I’m here every morning about this time, and I hope we’ll run into each other again.”

When Josh left, Mike was asking Mom for a doughnut. This time Mom ran with it to the kitchen, feinted and tossed it overhand.

“Best play I’ve seen since the last Super Bowl,” hollered one of the customers.

“One of their scouts tried to recruit me last week,” Mom said.

This provoked a round of good-natured jeers. But Josh didn’t stick around to hear any more. He had business here, all right. He was going to put his phone calls on the back burner and try to talk Gina into having lunch with him. He’d struck out with his invitations to drinks and dinner, but lunch? It was a nonthreatening suggestion, time limited and requiring no special dress.

He was willing to bet that Gina would say yes when he asked her. She’d had that glint in her eye that was the giveaway of an interested female, and come to think of it, he seldom met any other kind.