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“You don’t live here, do you?” Part of her wanted him to say yes, that he did live here, which meant that his bed was here, and he was taking her to it. Much as she liked that idea, she knew his house was up in the hills; she’d been there a couple of times to his famous parties.
“No, though I stay here often.”
Hmm, he must have a bed here, then. Damn. She had to stop thinking about that. It’d happen soon enough, she was sure of it. For now, she should simply enjoy his company. She was starting to understand why everyone did. He wasn’t just charming. He was fun and smart. He was easy company, good company. She could see him becoming a real friend. She liked the idea of dating him—whether it lasted a week or a whole month, she already knew she’d enjoy it.
He held his hand out to her. “Do you want to walk?”
The dusk was settling over the vineyards—the last of the reds and purples fading to blue and gray. “I’d love to.” She wasn’t going to wonder if this was a standard move—a romantic walk to get a girl in the mood. She took hold of his hand, and he led her around the side of the house and out into the vineyards beyond.
“Do you walk the vines often?” he asked.
Mary Ellen shook her head. She knew it was something Chelsea loved to do, and Cameron went out at least once a week to check the grapes and check in with the foremen and chat with the laborers.
Antonio looked puzzled, if not disappointed.
“I don’t feel as though I know enough,” she explained.
That just made him look even more puzzled.
“I know I work with wine, I love to drink it, I can tell you about all the processes, but out here I feel like an imposter. It’s not in my veins, not like you and Cam and Chelsea. For me it’s all learned from books.”
Antonio smiled and held her hand tighter, leading her down a row of vines. “That’s all the more reason you should come out here. Get to know the land, the vines, the grapes themselves.” He stopped and cupped a handful of leaves gently to sniff them. Then he gestured for her to do the same.
She felt a little self-conscious as she leaned forward. Was he teasing her? Each grape had its own smell, she knew that much, but leaves didn’t smell, did they? She was surprised to discover that they did. They smelled like springtime, and she smiled up at him. “Wow.”
He nodded. “Get to know them, spend time with them, you’ll learn to appreciate them, and then you won’t feel like an outsider anymore. You’ll feel like you belong.” He smiled down at her. “And I think you do.”
Oh. When he smiled like that it made her wish she did belong—with him. His face was so handsome—and so familiar, she’d pictured it so often over the last few years, but the expression on his face, the tenderness of his big brown eyes made her wonder again what it would be like if he actually cared about her.
She sucked in a deep breath as he let go of the leaves and moved his hand to cup her cheek. The feel of his fingers on her skin sent heat-waves rushing through her.
“I believe you do belong here,” he murmured as he lowered his lips to hers.
She couldn’t make her brain focus on what he might mean by that. All coherent thoughts fled as his arm slid around her waist, drawing her to him. He kissed even better than she’d imagined. His lips were warm and soft, his body hard. His arms felt strong around her, and that was all she was aware of as she parted her lips to kiss him back. His tongue explored her mouth, and she clung to his shoulders to keep herself upright. She’d never thought of herself as the swooning type, but his kiss made her knees buckle.
It was a long time before they came up for air, and she didn’t want to even then. She could have kissed him like that all night. He lifted his head but kept his arms tight around her. “You do.”
She cocked her head to one side, not understanding. “I do what?”
He raised an eyebrow, then shook his head slightly. “Kiss better than anyone I’ve ever known. I always thought you might.”
She didn’t know what to say. Had he really ever spent time wondering how she might kiss? She’d certainly wondered about him, but to think that he …? No. She smiled. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “Believe what you like.”
~ ~ ~
Antonio took her hand again and walked on. This was one of his very favorite places on earth. He walked out here almost every day. Some people went to church. Some people meditated. He walked the vines. Alone. He’d wanted to bring her out here, and he was glad he had. He’d brought a couple of women out here over the years but usually regretted it. Sharing this place was like sharing a piece of his soul. Women in the past had missed the point entirely. Mary Ellen didn’t really get it either. But she felt right out here. She wasn’t chattering away, oblivious how important this was to him, nor was she feigning some connection that she didn’t feel. She’d been honest with him. She didn’t feel like she belonged. He could understand that. Wine might not flow in her veins like it did with his family, but he was starting to believe that she could belong here and that he wanted her to.
The sky was almost dark now; he looked up at the first stars twinkling down on them. It felt like a sign. He slung his arm around her shoulders as they walked on, wanting to feel her closeness. The blood rushed to his pants as her full breast brushed against his chest. Resisting temptation wasn’t normally his thing, but he was determined that tonight he would manage it. Mary Ellen wasn’t the type to sleep with him on the first date, and not even attempting to would mark this as something new and special for him.
“How old were you when you first came here?” she asked.
“I don’t really know. When we were kids, we split all our time between Sicily and here. We went to grade school over there and spent all the holidays here, then we came here for high school and went back every summer.”
Mary Ellen nodded, looking thoughtful. “So, do you think of yourself as American or Sicilian?”
“Both.” He smiled. “I feel like I belong wherever I am.”
