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Ava shrugged. “I guess so. I hadn’t really noticed.”
“Are you blind or something?” Marie teased. “Jackson said he’s like a celebrity in the wine-making world. He’s quite awe-struck to have him here at Casa Celli.”
“Is he?” She murmured, wishing she could be anywhere and with just about anyone other than a curious Marie.
“Oh, yeah. Vintner magazine named him the No. 1 wine-maker to watch this year and last. Apparently everything he touches turns to gold. Maybe you should see if he wants to do a season here.”
Ava felt like her fingers were going to drop off, they were so tingly suddenly. “I don’t think he’d be interested,” she said quickly. “He’s too big for a place like this.”
“You never know. He might like the idea of a boutique winery. Though Jackson said his services cost a small fortune.”
Ava grimaced. They had even then – three years ago, when he’d been a little more up and coming than the full-blown success story he was now. “Is it true he crafted the Shiraz that won the Decanter award?”
Ava bit back the surly reply that had been on her lips: that Jackson would know. Marie and Jackson were passionate about wine. It was only natural that they would both fall under the wine-world star power of a player like Cristiano. “Yes. That?
??s how he knows the Berry family. He came to the Valley to do a season with them. And he and Tom became mates.”
“Best mates, according to the town rumour mill.”
“Yeah.” She turned the page again, unable to meet Marie’s eyes.
“Shame he’s with that woman in cabin six. Otherwise I’d be suggesting you invite him up for a drink, if you know what I mean.”
Ava fumbled the book and it dropped to the floor with a clunk. She busied herself lifting it back and finding the page they’d been up to, carefully keeping her face averted from Marie. “I’m not interested in a relationship with him or anyone.” Her words were sharp; her tone cross.
Marie, suitably chastened, lifted the basket onto her slim hip. “Suit yourself. I’m going to do the beds. I’ll be back soon.”
Ava nodded jerkily, but her heart wouldn’t calm down. There was no way Cris was with that woman. Sure, there’d obviously been a flirtation … but … they’d slept together! Fire burned her conscience. She had been engaged to another man when they’d first fell in love. What if this was Cristiano’s way of getting revenge?
Ava shut her eyes and tried to find an inner-well of strength. Marie had to have been mistaken. Didn’t she? Ava ran hot and cold. Marie, for all that she was sweet and kind, was a terrible gossip. She had the ear of the town, and the town had hers. She knew everything. Only the fact that Ava and Cris had been so careful, years earlier, to keep their relationship private, had kept it off the gossip radar.
Ava finished the book, but she was barely paying attention. She was completely wrapped up in thoughts of Cristiano. She got through the morning, and settled Milly for her nap, but her whole mind was absorbed by Cristiano. What was he doing? Was he thinking of her? Was he regretting the passionate time they’d shared the night before? Or was he hoping she’d come back to see him again?
The very thought made her chest swell with fevered anticipation.
But she couldn’t! Nothing about them had ever been simple, and now it was a disaster zone. Ava was staring at the computer screen, attempting to make sense of the bookings over Christmas, but the dates were swimming in front of her eyes. She selected one of the reservations for early February and made a note to contact the guests. She vaguely remembered the woman from a few months earlier. A beautiful English woman, lady someone or other, with startling blue eyes and a friendly, yet reserved nature. Ava had warmed to her instantly. Return guests were Ava’s favourite; it meant she was doing something right. And this one had booked out all of the cabins for her party, which meant she had really enjoyed herself. High praise, indeed.
The sound of the door opening had her lifting her eyes gratefully in its direction. Any distraction from Cristiano would be most welcome.
Except the man himself.
Cristiano stood, looking as perfectly stunning as if Ava had conjured him straight out of a fantasy. Dressed in a pair of casual faded jeans and a white shirt that showed off his even, bronzed tan, it was impossible for Ava to look at him without her heart breaking into a canter.
The silence stretched between them like a piece of elastic. His eyes bore into hers, and she was powerless to look away.
“We need to talk.”
That was it. No preamble. No gentle greeting to soften his arrival. Just a demand.
Ava blinked across at him, but the magnetic force was as strong as ever. Her eyes were locked to his face. His eyes. His mouth. That patrician nose. She swallowed.
She ran her fingers over the space bar, feeling its smoothness. “I … think we said everything we needed to last night.”
His smile was cynical and condemnatory. “Not by a damned long shot.”
She fluttered her eyes shut in an attempt to block him out. It didn’t work. “Come on, Cris. This is all … ancient history.”
“Is it?” His question was fierce. His eyes were serious. He moved a step closer to the desk, and she caught a hint of his masculine fragrance on the breeze that wafted in through the door.
