The Vineyards Of Calanetti

“Why?” He moved closer and ran his thumb along her jaw. “You certainly couldn’t complain about our chemistry. So what happened?”

CHAPTER SIX

Oh, she was tempted to tell him. To admit that she’d loved him too much to risk the success he was working so hard to achieve. But that glimmer in his eyes scared her silly. Her Mic had been proud but sweet. This Mic was strong. Sophisticated. If she told him she’d worried that she and her troubles would drag him down, God knows how he’d react. Would he see her sacrifice for what it had been? Or would he see her act of love as a slur against his manhood? The great Michele Patruno could make kings putty with his fine food, but he couldn’t support the woman he loved?

She rose from her seat. “It’s over now. Water under the bridge. No point in talking about it.”

He sat back, bracing his arms on the chairs on either side of him, looking so sexy and male she could have swooned. “Interesting. I would have thought you’d simply remind me that you didn’t love me.”

Her face reddened. Why hadn’t she just said that? “Why make me repeat it?”

“Why not? If it’s a simple fact, it should be easy to say.”

“After eight years, it shouldn’t matter.”

“After eight years, you shouldn’t stumble over it.”

She shook her head, furious with him for pushing. “Don’t criticize me for not wanting to say something that was hard enough the first time.”

He rose in a movement so swift and fluid she didn’t realize what he was about to do until he caught her wrist. They stood so close she could almost feel his chest rising and falling and the heat coming from his muscled body.

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Criticizing you?”

She lifted her chin, met his gaze. “Aren’t you?”

He shifted a millimeter closer. Everything feminine in her trembled with longing. Reality combined with memories and she had fight not to fall into his arms and beg for another chance. But she’d lost her chance with the Mic she’d loved, and this Mic—Oh, this Mic—might be a little too much for her.

“I’m not criticizing you. I’m just curious. Interested.”

The shimmer that came to his blue eyes scared her silly. Eight years of working in some of Europe’s finest restaurants, meeting some of the world’s most sophisticated people, showed in the way he looked at her, the way he moved, the things he said. This was not her Mic.

“Well, I’m not interested in you.”

“Really?” His voice dropped to an intimate whisper that skimmed across her skin and raised goose flesh. “I can see in your eyes that that’s a lie.”

“You flatter yourself.”

He laughed, but his head began to lower. “Then you won’t mind a little test.”

Her breath shivered. Her heart stalled. He was going to kiss her, but she couldn’t seem to step away. She was interested and she was curious. She knew nothing could ever come of this. He’d hate her if she told him her real reasons for letting him leave. But she wanted one more kiss. One more taste of the man she hadn’t been able to forget in eight long years.

CHAPTER SEVEN

His lips met hers softly, surely. Her eyes drifted shut, as common sense melted away and sensation took over. He expertly guided them on a slow, sensual journey, using his lips and tongue, deepening the kiss until her bones softened and her blood heated.

When he pulled away, his eyes shone. “So no more telling me you’re not interested.”

She blinked. Common sense returned in a dizzying wave. Why the hell had she kissed him?

She grabbed her coat, her coffee and her scone and raced toward the door.

“Lily!”

She stopped.

“This isn’t over.”

But it was. It had to be. The old Mic was gone. She’d chased him away. There was no going back now.

The next day, Mic arrived at Mancini’s early with Rafe to get a jump on the day’s cooking. But he couldn’t have spent another minute in his aunt and uncle’s empty condo, wondering about that kiss, about Lily’s eager response to him. He’d expected her to slap him. Instead, she’d melted. He was glad for the distraction of cooking and reminiscing with Rafe.

Lunchtime approached. He knew the second Lily arrived for her shift. His senses went on heightened alert. The day before, he’d lowered his head slowly enough that she could have stopped his kiss, but she hadn’t. And then she’d kissed him back, like someone who’d been waiting forever to kiss him again.

Even as it warmed his blood, it made no sense.

She walked out into the kitchen tying an apron around her waist. Their gazes met, her dark brown eyes soft, wary. Then she quickly looked away.

Emory, Rafe’s short, bald sous chef, burst into the kitchen. “Have you heard that the Palazzo di Comparino heir has been located?”

Lily gasped. “Oh, my goodness! Chef Rafe! If they reopen the vineyard, your business will triple.”

Rafe said, “I’m counting on that.”

But Mic watched the color in Lily’s cheeks, the way her eyes shone with pleasure, and confusion overwhelmed him again. She was a good person. Yet the way she’d left him had been cruel. He had to remember that. He shouldn’t be telling her this wasn’t over. He shouldn’t even be speaking to her.

But when she came into the kitchen to retrieve her customers’ meals, their hands brushed every time he gave her a plate, sending the warmth of familiarity through him.

When the night wound down and the waitresses and kitchen staff were nearly done with cleanup, he ambled to the dining room.

The other waitresses had finished before Lily, who was busily counting her tips. The kitchen lights went out and Mic knew they were alone.

“I think I’m going to have to walk you to your car.”

Her brown eyes met his. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“Maybe you should be.”

She shook her head. “You think you are funny with your macho words and your stupid tricks.”

“I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

The look she gave him was soft with pain. “Don’t. Please. Let it alone.” She raced to undo the door and left before he could even grab his coat.

He stared after her. The woman had hurt him. The pain she’d inflicted had almost cost him his dream. He shouldn’t be curious about why she was still in the town they’d loved.

He shouldn’t care that she was sad.

But he was.

And maybe he was approaching this all wrong?

Maybe there was a better way to uncover the secrets she kept?

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next day, Rafe had an afternoon appointment in Rome and Mic took over the kitchen for dinner. He didn’t have time to think about squelching his feelings for Lily. But at the end of the night, when he went into the dining room, expecting to see it clean and quiet, he found a couple dallying over their meal and Lily sitting at the bar, obviously waiting for them to leave.

He didn’t have to keep her company as she waited, but part of him couldn’t let her sit alone. And maybe if they had a normal conversation, his old feelings for her would go.

He ambled to the bar, walked behind it, pulled out a bottle of wine. “Interested?”

She glanced down at her hands.

“Look. I’m sorry about kissing you. Sorry about pushing you the other night. Let’s share a glass of wine and make peace.”

Her eyes met his. “Okay. Maybe a glass while the customers finish.”

He brought two wine glasses from beneath the bar, opened the bottle and poured.

She said, “You did pretty well tonight.”

He laughed. “Mancini’s is a jewel, but I’ve actually worked bigger.”

“Ah.”

He leaned back against the shelf behind the bar. He didn’t want to be tempted by sitting beside her, but the view from across the bar might actually be better. He could see her face, her flowing hair, her full pink lips.

“You don’t want to hear about the places I’ve been?”

Her gaze jumped to his. “Actually, I do.”

“Though I thoroughly enjoyed every post in Europe, I had a real love for one of my U.S. jobs.”

Her eyes brightened. “Really?”

“Yes. I spent a year at a restaurant in Las Vegas.”

“The place they gamble?” She frowned. “And you liked that the best?”

“The city is full of energy. Life. Lights.” He shook his head. “There’s a party atmosphere everywhere. It spills onto the streets, weaves into the restaurants. The whole town is entertainment.”

“Quite different than the subdued streets of Paris.”

He leaned across the bar, studying her, unable to stop the stirrings of emotions from the past. He’d never really been able to confide in anyone the way he had Lily. And he’d missed that. He’d missed having someone who cared what he did.

“Paris has its nightlife.”

She smiled sadly and glanced down at her wine. “I’m sure.”

Her sadness hit him like a punch in the gut and he was twenty again, simultaneously being offered the adventure of a lifetime and losing the woman who’d been his other half. The confusion of her rejection filled him.

“I would have loved to show you.”

Her serious brown eyes met his. “You couldn’t have shown me.”

He frowned.

“Mic, we didn’t have any money.”

He batted his hand. “There are lots of things you don’t need money for.”

She shook her head. “And there were lots of things that we did need money for. I was uneducated. The best job I could have gotten is what I’m doing now. Waitressing. We would have been cold, hungry.”

A horrible realization rose in him. It coated his mind like smoke in a brush fire, and awakened memories he’d forgotten.

“You were angry that we were broke?”

“I was concerned that you would give up your dream to support me and Melony.”

He stepped back. “Oh, my God. You dumped me because you believed I couldn’t support you?”

“I ended us because I knew I was dead weight. Especially since I came with a little girl. Not just an extra mouth to feed, but two.”

His muscles hardened. His words, when they flowed out of his mouth, felt like dry chips of wood. “You didn’t trust me.”

CHAPTER NINE

The pain on Mic’s face seeped into Lily’s soul. She’d known it would hurt him if she admitted the truth, but tonight she saw it was unfair to make him live with a lie that also hurt him.

“I’m sorry.”

He straightened to his full six-foot-four height. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. She could see it on his face.

“Why don’t you go home for the night? I’ll clean up after this customer.”

“No. I’ll stay. It’s my job.”

“No.” His eyes met hers. “It is my job. And I do my jobs. I always do my jobs.”

Tears flooded her eyes at the humiliation in his voice. “Please, Mic. That’s exactly my point. You would have taken your responsibilities seriously. And you would have lost your dream.”

“So you felt it was better to take the decision out of my hands?”

His righteous indignation finally got the better of her. “Oh, please. You were in the situation every bit as much as I was. You knew I was responsible for my sister. You knew I was still grieving my parents’ deaths. You knew I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, yet when I said no to your proposal you never argued. I said, ‘I don’t love you’, and you left. You never asked why. You didn’t remember my passion for you. You didn’t think that maybe my troubles might have put me in a bad emotional state. You simply got hurt and left.”

He gaped at her. “You’re pinning this on me?”

She rose from her bar stool. Her chin lifted. “Maybe I am.”

“Well, that’s convenient.”

“Maybe.” A horrible chill enveloped her. The memory of how he’d left raced through her brain. The feeling of abandonment. The knowledge that he hadn’t thought enough of her to even question what she’d said. The memory of the sweeping fear when she realized she was alone and responsible for her ten-year-old sister. “Think back, Mic. You never fought for me. You never fought for what we had.”

“You know, you like to remember your emotional state, but what about mine? I was moving to a city I didn’t know. Alone.”

“Oh, so you only asked me to marry you for company?”

He cursed. “You’re confusing everything.”

“No. Maybe for the first time the truth is coming out.” And it was killing her. All these years, she wouldn’t let herself examine their situation too closely because the pain of losing him had been suffocating. But now she finally saw the truth.

She hadn’t simply lost Mic. She’d proven to both of them that he hadn’t really loved her.

She slid off the bar stool. “I’ve got to go.”

“That’s right. Leave when things get too difficult.”

She shook her head. “No. That’s what you do.”

CHAPTER TEN

Mic was so angry with Lily that he didn’t sleep that night. He actually debated not going to work the next day, but knew he had to, if only to prove he did not run from his troubles.

When she stepped into the kitchen and took a clean apron from the shelf, he stood taller.

Accuse him of being wrong? Ha! That was insane.

“Good morning, Ms. Norelli.”

Her face flamed with color. “Good morning, Chef Mic.”

Rafe waved his knife. “And good morning to me. Now that greetings are over, could we do some work?”

Holding Lily’s gaze, Mic said, “I’d love to work since I don’t let my responsibilities slip.”

Her chin lifted and she left the room.

But the quieter she got, the angrier Mic got. Every “please” and “thank you” grated against his nerves. Her sweet, polite act was just a way to make him wonder if she wasn’t correct. Had he really been the one to bail on her?

As soon as that thought popped into his head, he balked. He had not bailed! She hadn’t given him a chance to prove himself. To prove that he could have supported her, helped raise her sister. She snatched that chance away with her refusal to marry him.

The next time she gave him her overly polite thank you, he yanked the dish away from her. “Perhaps, if it’s too much trouble for you to be honest, I should serve this dish to our customer.”

“Too much trouble? I was sparing you trouble!”

Instantly, Rafe was beside him. “I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but take it outside.”

Mic ran his hand along the back of his neck. “We’re fine.”

Lily quietly said, “Yes, Chef Rafe. We are fine.”

But Rafe took Mic’s shoulders and turned him to the back door. “No. I hear this all day. I grow tired of it. Go outside and solve it.”

Lily followed Mic out the door. When it closed behind them, he turned on Lily.

“You gutted me with your refusal of my proposal. You said, ‘No. I can’t marry you.’ Then you’d looked me in the eye and said, ‘I don’t love you.’ What did you expect me to do?”

She stormed over to him, as angry as he was, and poked her finger into his chest. “I expected you to think. My God, Mic. I was eighteen and I had a ten-year-old sister who was grieving her parents. You were the bright spot in our lives and at my first confused answer, you left. You didn’t even come by the next day to ask if I was sure. To talk it out. You just left.”

He caught the finger jabbing into his chest. “You want me to say I’m sorry you broke my heart? Are you nuts?”

She looked up into his eyes. “I want you to say my sacrifice was worth it. That you’re who you wanted to be. That you’re grateful.”

“Now I’m to be grateful that you broke my heart?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Yes.”

The sight of her tears kicked away any common sense he might have. He caught her shoulders and drew her up as his head lowered. Their lips met in a blinding flash of need so intense it seemed to swallow both of them in its angry vortex. Her lips answered his raw need as he plundered her mouth. Desire burst through him. Heat that he remembered from a long-ago love.

Lily. His Lily. Was in his arms.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Breathless desire tumbled through Lily. Fire and ice raced down her spine. It had been so long since anyone had kissed her, touched her, that her soul wept with longing. She just wanted to be loved again. To feel whole again.

The only time she’d ever felt whole had been with Mic. But as quickly as she thought that, she remembered that this might be Mic, but he wasn’t the same man she’d loved. This Mic was strong, smart, sophisticated. In the eight years she’d struggled for food and shelter for a ten-year-old sister, he’d seen the world.

She pushed herself away from him. “Don’t. Stop.”

His blue eyes skimmed her face. “I’m to be sorry for this too?”

She cleared the ache in her throat, took a few more steps back. “No.” Running her fingers through her hair, she glanced to the right, unable to meet his gaze. How did a woman say no to the man who had once been the other half of her?

“This is wrong.”

“This feels right.”

“Really? You’re going to stay this time?”

He laughed. “Wow, you get right to the hard questions. You couldn’t even let us spend a few weeks, or even days, together before you took us right to the bottom line.”

“We’re not the same people.”

“So?”

“So that means we can’t pick up where we left off. We’d have to start over. And I’m not sure that’s possible for us.”

“Because I hurt you?”

She smiled slightly at the fact that he was finally admitting it. She met his gaze. “Because I hurt you.”

“We hurt each other.”

“And in eight years apart we became two different people.”

He looked away, then looked back at her. “I think I see.”

She expected relief to sigh through her. Instead, tears pricked her eyes. “I better get back in.”

She turned quickly and returned to the kitchen, but she didn’t stop or even pause. The tears in her eyes were bursting through and she needed a minute.

A few quick dodges of tables, customers and waitresses took her to the restroom. Inside, she locked the door and leaned against the cool wall.

Though she believed every word she’d said to Mic—they were different people; they could not pick up where they left off—she hated them.

“Lily?” Mila, one of the other waitresses, knocked on the door. “Are you okay?”

She grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter. “I’m fine.”

“Do you need to talk?”

Her breath shuddered into her lungs, heavy with the need to sob, but she straightened her shoulders. “No. I’m fine.”

She was always fine. In eight years, she hadn’t broken down. She’d done her duties. Raised her sister. Taken care of Signor Bartolini. And even planned a real future when she enrolled in university for next semester. She had everything under control. She did not need a shoulder to cry on, someone to take care of her. She was strong.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t want one more night with Mic. One night when she wouldn’t feel alone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mic understood Lily avoiding him the next few days at the restaurant, but he didn’t like it. He scheduled himself for the same day off that she had, but she didn’t go to the coffeehouse as she had on her other day off.

He sat in the quiet bistro, waiting for her, not quite sure what he expected. He only knew that kiss had been explosive. The way she’d clung to him gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, a need to protect her so fierce it threatened to consume him.

After tossing his coffee cup into the trash on the way out, he pushed open the door and breathed the very cold air of Monte Calanetti in January. He decided to take a walk, but didn’t get too far before he saw Lily coming out of an older, but renovated building. He stopped. Not seeing him, she turned to the left and headed up the street. He stared at the building. She’d struggled after he’d left. So what was she doing coming out of a newly renovated building this early in the morning? Unless this was the home of her lover?

Jealousy, swift and hot, raged through him. He followed her up the street, keeping a safe distance, not quite sure what he expected to see. The coffeehouse was in the other direction. So he knew she wasn’t going for coffee for her lover. But maybe a bagel from the bakery?

That quickened his steps. He didn’t know why he cared so much. He’d had lovers over the past eight years. But Lily … was his. Or had been. Maybe it was time to remember that?

He nearly turned to walk away, but she shifted to the right, across the street, toward the fountain.

The place where wishes come true?

He shook his head, thinking that was crazy, then his thoughts speeded up. What if she was wishing for him? Wishing things were different?

He crossed the street and walked up to her as she stood staring at the water that rose then fell almost like a melody.

“Hey.”

She turned as if he’d startled her. “Hey.”

Her knit cap had been pulled low to protect her from the cold, calling attention to her round brown eyes. The long hair beneath the cap curled around her shoulders.

His heart stuttered. In all his travels, he’d never met a woman as beautiful.

“Here to make a wish?”

Her lips turned down in self-deprecation. “Sounds silly.”

He rifled in his pocket for a coin. “Or maybe good?”

“I’m not wishing for you.”

He laughed. “That’s my Lily. Get right to the point.”

“Would you rather I was dishonest?”

He’d rather she was in his bed. Warm. Naked. Laughing. But he didn’t know if sleeping together would bring them closer or drive them further apart, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her hating him. He couldn’t bear the thought of hating her anymore either.

So maybe it was better to let them be friends. He presented the coin to her. “Whatever your wish, I hope it comes true.”

She took the coin and tossed it with a laugh. “Maybe I should wish for you.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Oh, now you can’t tell a man that, toss a coin and expect me to walk away. Especially since I know the legend.”

Studying his silly expression and not sure if he was teasing, Lily said, “That wishes in this fountain come true?”

“That the wishes of people who can get their coin in the clam shell come true.” He smiled and pointed. “You made it.”

She laughed and her soul lifted. It was the first time the man in Mic’s body behaved like the Mic she remembered.

“So what are you doing at a fountain on a cold morning?”

“Same thing you are.”

She smiled. “Walls of your house closing in on you?”

“Tired of sitting on my mattress, watching reruns of televisions shows on my tablet. When my aunt and uncle asked me to condo-sit, they neglected to tell me that the place was empty.”

She laughed.

His smile faded. “We really blew it, didn’t we?”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. The sadness in his voice told the story.

“Not really.” She caught the gaze of his beautiful blue eyes, took in the short hair that was growing on her, and smiled. “Mic, we were kids. Neither one of us had the ability to make enough money. And you became the man you wanted to be. The success. That’s not blowing it.”

“So what did you do after I left?” He glanced away then looked back at her, his eyes searching hers. “My God, Lily, if you didn’t think the two of us together could support us, how did you do it alone?”

She licked her suddenly dry lips. The longing to be honest warred with her hatred of sympathy. In the end, honesty won. “I lost our apartment.”

He cursed.

“Melony and I lived on the street for a week before Signor Bartolini found us one night.”

He ran his hands down his face. “I’m sorry.”