The Vineyards Of Calanetti. Rebecca Winters
taken four weeks before he could go back to work, but his broken heart hadn’t healed until he’d realized relationships were for other men. He had a dream that a romance had nearly stolen from him. A wise man didn’t forget hard lessons, or throw them away because of a pretty girl.
Almost at the kitchen door, he stopped. “And, Daniella?”
She faced him.
“No jeans tomorrow. Black trousers and a white shirt.”
* * *
Daniella raced to her car, her heart thumping in her chest. Having Rafe lean across the bar, so close to her, had been the oddest thing. Her blood pressure had risen. Her breathing had gone funny. And damned if she didn’t want to run her fingers through his wavy hair. Unbound, it had fallen to his shoulders, giving him the look of a sexy pirate.
The desire to touch him had been so strong, she would have agreed to anything to be able to get away from him so she could sort this out.
And just when she’d thought she was free, he’d said her name. Daniella. The way it had rolled off his tongue had been so sexy, she’d shuddered.
Calling herself every kind of crazy, she got into Louisa’s old car and headed home. A mile up the country road, she pulled through the opening in the stone wall that allowed entry to Monte Calanetti. Driving along the cobblestone street, lit only by streetlights, she marveled at the way her heart warmed at the quaint small town. She’d never felt so at peace as she did in Italy, and she couldn’t wait to meet her foster mother’s relatives. Positive they’d make a connection, she could see herself coming to Italy every year to visit them.
She followed the curve around the statue in the town square before she made the turn onto the lane for Palazzo di Comparino. She knew Louisa saw only decay and damage when she looked at the crumbling villa, but in her mind’s eye Dani could see it as it was in its glory days. Vines heavy with grapes. The compound filled with happy employees. The owner, a proud man.
A lot like Rafe.
She squeezed her eyes shut when the familiar warmth whooshed through her at just the thought of his name. What was it about that guy that got to her? Sure, he was sexy. Really sexy. But she’d met sexy men before. Why did this one affect her like this?
Louisa was asleep, so she didn’t have anyone to talk with about her strange feelings. But the next morning over tea, she told Louisa everything that had happened at the restaurant, especially her unwanted urge to touch Rafe when he leaned across the bar and was so close to her, and Louisa—again—laughed.
“This is Italy. Why are you so surprised you’re feeling everything a hundred times more passionately?”
Dani’s eyes narrowed. Remembering her thoughts about Monte Calanetti, the way she loved the quaint cobblestone streets, the statue fountain in the middle of the square, the happy, bustling people, she realized she did feel everything more powerfully in Italy.
“Do you think that’s all it is?”
“Oh, sweetie, this is the land of passion. It’s in the air. The water. Something. As long as you recognize what it is, you’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” She rose from the table. “I also hope there’s a thrift shop in town. I have to find black trousers and a white blouse. Rafe doesn’t like my jeans.”
Louisa laughed as she, too, rose from the table. “I’ll bet he likes your jeans just fine.”
Daniella frowned.
Louisa slid her arm across her shoulder. “Your butt looks amazing in jeans.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Louisa gave her a confused look, then shook her head. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe you’re both reacting extremely to each other. That it’s not just you feeling everything, and that’s why it’s so hard to ignore?”
“You think he’s attracted to me?”
“Maybe. Dani, you’re pretty and sexy.” She laughed. “And Italian men like blondes.”
Daniella frowned. “Oh, boy. That just makes things worse.”
“Or more fun.”
“No! I have a fiancé. Well, not a fiancé. My boyfriend asked me to marry him right before I left.”
“You have a boyfriend?”
She winced. “Yeah.”
“And he proposed right before you left?”
“Yes.”
Louisa sighed. “I guess that rules out an affair with your sexy Italian boss.”
Daniella’s eyes widened. “I can’t have an affair!”
“I know.” Louisa laughed. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs and see what’s in my suitcases. I have to unpack anyway. I’m sure I have black pants and a white shirt.”
“Okay.”
Glad the subject had changed, Daniella walked with Louisa through the massive downstairs to the masterpiece stairway.
Louisa lovingly caressed the old, worn banister. “I feel like this should be my first project. Sort of like a symbol that I intend to bring this place back to life.”
“Other people might give the kitchen or bathrooms a priority.”
Louisa shook her head. “The foyer is the first thing everyone sees when they walk in. I want people to know I’m committed and I’m staying.”
“I get it.”
It took ten minutes to find the black pants and white shirt in Louisa’s suitcase, but Dani remained with Louisa another hour to sort through her clothes and hang them in the closet.
When it was time to leave, she said goodbye to Louisa and headed to the restaurant for the lunch crowd. She stashed her purse on the little shelf of the podium and waited for someone to unlock the door to customers so she could begin seating everyone.
Rafe himself came out. As he walked to the door, his gaze skimmed over her. Pinpricks of awareness rained down on her. Louisa’s suggestion that he was attracted to her tiptoed into her brain. What would it be like to have this sexy, passionate man attracted to her?
She shook her head. What the heck was she thinking? He was only looking at her to make sure she had dressed appropriately. He was not attracted to her. Good grief. All they ever did was snipe at each other. That was not attraction.
Although, standing up to him did warm her blood...
After opening the door, Rafe strode away without even saying good morning, proving, at least to Dani, that he wasn’t attracted to her. As she seated her first customers, he walked to the windows at the back of the old farmhouse and opened the wooden shutters, revealing the picturesque countryside.
The odd feeling of destiny brought Daniella up short again. This time she told herself it was simply an acknowledgment that the day was beautiful, the view perfect. There was no such thing as someone “belonging” somewhere. There was only hard work and planning.
An hour into the lunch shift, a customer called her over and asked to speak with the chef. Fear shuddered through her.
“Rafe?”
The older man nodded. “If he’s the chef, yes.”
She couldn’t even picture the scene if she called Rafe out and this man, a sweet old man with gray hair, blue eyes and a cute little dimple, complained about the food. So she smiled. “Maybe I can help you?”
“Perhaps. But I would like to speak with the chef.”
Officially out of options, she smiled and said, “Absolutely.”
She turned to find Rafe only a few steps away, his eyes narrowed, his lips thin.