Heard It Through The Grapevine

“Don’t forget Fredo and Fred, Emma and Emily, Suzanne and Susan, and Mia, whose middle name is Suzanne,” chimed in an older woman, who introduced herself as Audra.

“Maren and Maureen,” contributed Carla. “Margo, Marco and Mark.”

“Thank goodness for Teresa and Angelo Bono. They named their kids Zizi and Dodie. They’ll never get mixed up with anyone else.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” said Gina. “Zizi and Dodie are only nicknames.”

Audra frowned. “What are their real names?”

“No one remembers, thank goodness,” Carla said with a laugh.

Josh grinned, and all in all, by the time dinner was over, he thought he had never met more interesting people gathered in one place in his entire life.

Night fell, and the party, with a final tired wheeze of accordions, was declared to be over by Fredo. Barbara, Nick’s wife and Gina’s sister, came over to their table and presented Josh with a Super Stomper Certificate in honor of his stomping grapes and attending his first crush. People lingered, gathering up their children, their strollers, diaper bags and wraps as they bade one another fond goodbyes. And before her parents came to carry her home to bed, Mia curled up on Josh’s lap and almost fell asleep.

“I have to leave,” Gina said to Rocco after the Sorises had departed. “I’ll need to be up early to work in the herb garden in the morning.” Others were wending their way through the big oaks to their cars, and the cleanup detail was stashing containers of food in a van marked Dede’s Catering Service.

“I should help fold the chairs,” Josh said, but when he offered, Rocco told him that it wasn’t necessary.

“We’ve got things under control, don’t we, Frankie?”

“Sure, Pop,” Frankie said with a jaunty grin. “Hey, Josh, how did you like crush?”

Amazingly, he didn’t even have to think twice; Josh immediately gave it two thumbs-up, much to Frankie’s delight.

“Now, Josh,” Rocco said in parting. “You get any extra time, drop by the house. I’ve got a bocce court in my backyard, and I’ll give you some pointers.”

As painful as the bocce experience had been, Josh thought he never wanted to see another bocce ball or court as long as he lived. But he did want to see Rocco again, so he managed a halfhearted grin. “Will do,” he said before hurrying after Gina, who was halfway to the parking lot by this time.

ONCE THEY WERE AWAY FROM everyone else, Gina was self-conscious around Josh, though she certainly felt more favorably disposed toward him since he’d made such an effort to fit in. She hadn’t expected Rocco to take to him so well, nor had she counted on her mother’s trying to make him feel welcome.

Josh didn’t say much as they put up the Galaxie’s convertible top and got in the car. He tossed his shoes in the back seat; the night had never grown as cool as expected and he was still in his bare feet. As they headed down the long Vineyard Oaks driveway toward the road, moonlight dappled the car’s long hood with shadows and cast a silvery glow ahead. Gina sneaked a glance at his aristocratic profile and suppressed a grin when she saw that he was smiling. She wasn’t quite sure why she was glad that he’d enjoyed himself tonight; whatever vengeful feelings she’d nurtured since the Mr. Moneybags show seemed to have been crushed out of her as completely as the juice from the grapes.

“Your niece is a charmer,” Josh said, apropos of nothing.

“Which one? Stacey or Mia?”

“Mia. I didn’t get too well acquainted with Stacey.”

Gina smiled. “They’re both my sister Barbara’s kids. Stacey recently became a teenager, and she likes to congregate with her cousins at family events. Mia is my godchild as well as my niece. She’s great.”

“Agreed. And Rocco is a character.”

“As well as the worst practical joker in all creation.”

“He’s the one who sent your application in for the Mr. Moneybags show, right?”

Gina nodded and braked for a curve in the road, then accelerated. “That was only one of the pranks he’s played on me. It almost rivals the occasion when he got a realistic audiotape of a train wreck and called my aunt Linda from the station at about the time that the wine train with all its sight-seers was due to arrive. He told Aunt Linda where he was, then played the tape into the phone, and she started yelling for my uncle Tony to come because she was convinced the train had jumped its track and run over Rocco in the phone booth. She was glad to hear his voice reassuring her that he was unharmed.”

“Doesn’t anyone ever get suspicious that he’s playing jokes?” Josh asked between chuckles.

“No, since Rocco’s so unfailingly clever about it. None of us will ever forget the time he borrowed the spare key to Aunt Audra and Uncle Charles’s house and took about five of our male cousins over there. When Aunt Audra and Uncle Charles came home that night, they heard what sounded like a bunch of guys laughing and showering in their tiny bathroom. They didn’t know whether to call the police or what, but they finally recognized some of the voices and started pounding on the bathroom door. They discovered that Rocco and the guys had turned on the shower but were sitting around the bathroom fully clothed, making an unholy racket so that my aunt and uncle would think some strangers had broken in and were partying in their shower. And then there was the time—”

Josh was still smiling. “Okay, okay, I get the picture. It’s all pretty funny, by the way.”

“Not if you’re the butt of it,” Gina said emphatically.

By the time she reached the highway, Josh’s laughter had abated and he appeared pensive. They were passing the water tower at the edge of the town limits before he spoke.

“You’re lucky,” he said into the silence. “To have such a large family to care about you.”

That he would feel this way surprised her, and she certainly wouldn’t have expected him to mention it. “I know,” she said. She tried to recall what she knew about Josh’s family from the résumé that had been handed out to all contestants on the show. A mother who listed “philanthropist” as her occupation; a father who was a director of a couple of big corporations. One younger brother and a sister whose ages she couldn’t recall.

He shifted in his seat, leaning slightly toward her so that his face was more clearly lit in the light from the instrument panel. He looked somber. “My family is great, don’t get me wrong, but we’re so spread out that we seldom see one another. My father travels a lot, and my mother spends most of her time raising money for charity. My brother Jason’s business keeps him in New York. And then there’s my sister, Valerie, who married a banker from Brazil. They live in Rio de Janeiro.”

“I wouldn’t like living so far away from everyone who is important to me,” she said, trying to imagine such a thing. Not being able to drop by her mother’s apartment after Maren tried a new cake recipe, then the two of them sitting and gabbing with her sister, Barbara, while Mia and Stacey dashed in and out of the house? Not to run unexpectedly into Rocco at the market and laugh together at Frankie’s latest escapade while they waited their turns at the deli counter? Life anywhere else but Rio Robles would be flat and dull, Gina was sure of it.

Josh sighed and faced forward again. “I was afraid I’d be treated like an outsider today, but everyone was so friendly,” he said.

“Oh, that’s because Rocco took you under his wing. He may be the family clown, but we all respect his judgment.”

“If I’m in with Rocco, I’m in with the rest of the family? Including you?”

She ignored the hopeful note in his voice. “Not necessarily.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

Was he being sarcastic? She slid a stealthy look at him out of the corners of her eyes. His expression was neutral and revealed what might be a bit of regret. Okay, so it hadn’t been sarcasm. But what was it?

“Anyway, thanks for sharing your family with me,” Josh said.

The sincerity of his tone left Gina unable to think of any response other than “You’re welcome.”

“Besides,” Josh said wryly as he peered down at his feet. “I now have feet that would be the envy of Mia. Purple toes.” He tendered Gina the famously lovable Mr. Moneybags grin.

She slowed the car as they approached the pillars marking the entrance to the parking area in front of Good Thymes. The unique stone cottage nestled in a hollow in the land and was shaded by a variety of trees. Flowers spilled out of window boxes, and more flowers bordered the path leading to the red-painted and arched front door.

Gina drew the Galaxie slowly to a stop beside Josh’s car and, without looking at him, slid out of her seat. “Come on, you can wash your feet off at the garden spigot,” she said.

Josh stepped out of the car and followed her along the flagstone path bordering the cottage, looking around with interest. The stones were cool and damp beneath his bare feet, and the plants in the garden rustled in the light breeze. On the other side of the fence, they could hear the low hiss of drip irrigation in the adjoining vineyard.

“You live back here?” He gazed up at the mellow gray stone, its hard edges softened by the moonlight.

She’d bought the shop using her booty of fifty thousand dollars, the consolation prize from the TV show, as a down payment. “One of the main attractions of this building was that I could reside on the premises,” she said, gesturing toward the windows above. “My quarters are big enough, and comfortable, as well.”

As she spoke, a furry shape crashed through the underbrush and hurtled toward them. Josh yelled, but Gina staggered backward under a sudden weight. “Don’t holler so loud,” she said as she righted herself. “You’ll scare Timothy.”

Josh stared at the squirming ball of fur in her arms. A contented rumble emanated from it. A purr? If so, it was the loudest purr he’d ever heard, and it came from the biggest cat he’d ever seen in his life.

A few moments passed before he recovered. “That’s a cat?”

“This is my best buddy. He’s a Maine Coon cat with an attitude.” Timothy’s head appeared, and great unblinking yellow eyes focused on Josh with interest.

“I’ll say he has an attitude,” Josh said as he recovered his composure. He sneezed.

“Allergic?” Gina asked sweetly.

“Yes. Maybe I should leave.”

“I was going to let you wash your feet. Or are you becoming fond of purple?”

“I’d appreciate some running water. Will Timothy mind if I pet him?”

“No. He’s harmless.”

Josh tentatively reached out a hand and stroked Timothy’s head. The cat closed his eyes and purred even louder.

“He likes you.”

“Yeah. I wish you did.”

“I do, sort of. You were a good sport tonight, Josh.”

“How many points does that win me?”

She couldn’t help laughing. “Enough.” She turned away. “The spigot’s right over here,” she said, leading the way. “I’ll get a bar of soap from the potting shed.”

Josh dropped his shoes and blazer on a nearby bench and turned on the water. Gina set Timothy down on the back porch steps and picked her way carefully through the shadows to the shed, where she gathered up the bar of soap, a washcloth and a soft old towel.

Josh stood almost ankle deep in a puddle when she returned. She handed him the soap and washcloth and went to observe from the porch so her shoes wouldn’t get wet in the runoff.

“That should do it,” Josh said as he dried his feet. Crickets chirped in the garden, filling her ears with sound to block out what she was thinking. She recalled a night in the garden in Scotland two years ago when she and Josh had been enjoying an arranged date. She had climbed up on a crumbling moss-covered bench so she could see over the wall separating the castle from the moor, and Josh had smiled up at her in exactly the same way he was doing now. Then he had taken her hand and helped her down from the bench while she worried about whether he would try to kiss her.

“What should I do with the towel?” he asked, breaking the bubble of her memories.

Silently, she held out her hand, and he put the towel in it. Timothy meowed, impatient because she hadn’t fed him before she’d left earlier.

“Gina, how about going out for a drink or something?” Josh had moved closer and was lounging against the wall with his own brand of careless grace.

Her heart did a flip-flop at the eagerness of his tone, and she willed it to start beating normally. She had no business letting Joshua Corbett think that their romance could heat up again.

“Sorry, I have to get up early in the morning,” she said curtly, though the words had a hard time moving past her suddenly dry throat.

Josh straightened, a hint of impatience in his stance. “Gina,” he began, but she interrupted.

“I really have to go in now,” she said on a slightly frantic note. She was beginning to feel light-headed, and she’d hardly drunk any wine at all.

Before she knew it he had cupped a hand around her nape and was pulling her head down toward him. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe; all the air seemed to have left her lungs. She closed her eyes and an unbidden picture sprang up from somewhere deep inside—two bodies, theirs, tangled amid bedclothes, and his hand sliding slowly up from her waist to cup her breast and bring it to his mouth. The fantasy expanded until she could imagine his warm skin pressed against hers, and the arch of her back as—

She made herself open her eyes. She shouldn’t be thinking of Josh that way. As she knew only too well, moonlight and a romantic setting did not a relationship make. She had found that out all too painfully once before.

She took a deliberate step backward, inadvertently treading on Timothy’s tail. The cat yowled and leaped into space, and Gina nearly lost her balance.

Josh grabbed her before she went flying off the porch, and she clutched at him in order to stabilize herself. His muscles were strong beneath the sleeve of his shirt, the fabric soft and expensive. The sight of the monogram on the pocket reminded her that he was Joshua James Corbett III, Mr. Moneybags. And she was the same person she had always been, Gina Angelini of Rio Robles, California, which was hardly in his league. She’d known it from the beginning, and he’d more than likely known it, too, since he’d chosen Tahoma and not her.

Flustered, she pulled away. The mood was broken, but at least he had the good grace to look sheepish. “Sorry,” he said.

Gina made an effort to pull herself together. To cover her confusion, she peered into the shadows, looking for Timothy. He was sulking, no doubt, but he’d get over it when he heard the electric can opener. That sound always made him come running.

She had barely regained her composure, when Josh spoke. “Thanks for the evening, Gina,” he said, unexpectedly formal and overly polite.

“You’re welcome,” she said, equally as formal and polite. He raised his hand in a farewell salute as she opened the door and backed inside. Timothy poked his head out of his favorite refuge, the catnip patch, and meowed plaintively.

“Come in, Timothy. I won’t step on you this time.” The cat, eyeing her distrustfully, jumped onto the top step and followed her up the stairs to her apartment.

Through the kitchen window, Gina kept an eye on the back of Josh’s shirt as he disappeared around the corner of the cottage. She was in trouble, big trouble. And clearly, she’d be in over her head if she couldn’t say no to Josh Corbett and mean it.

Chapter Three

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.