A Kiss of Cabernet Page 6

  Foolish, foolish girl. When you decide to go back in the water, you dive in headfirst, don’t you?

  She had carefully avoided relationships during the past year. Lingering doubts about her role in the accident that killed Manuel continued to torment her. Sarah and her neighbor, John, had tried to be amateur therapists, coaxing her to talk about it, to get it out of her system. But even the comforting arms of good friends couldn’t erase the emotional pain, the gnawing guilt. Could she have prevented Manuel from driving off that night? How many nights had she cried herself to sleep, asking herself that very question? How many times had she ended her day exhausted, throwing herself into oblivion through work?

  She appreciated the patience her mother and sisters had shown, careful not to take sides. They had tried to be understanding and give her distance and time to work through her guilt. Her grandmother had supported her unconditionally. Her father was another story. Paige sighed and ran more hot water into the tub. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about the past in a long time, but Sarah was right. It was time. It was also time to patch up her relationship with her father.

  If he will even listen.

  Her conversations with Jake had been a gift. They had proven to her that she was more than just competent. She had learned to work with people and earn their respect. She’d learned to listen and persuade. Maybe she could finally find the words to get through her father’s grief. But it wasn’t a given. Her father was still hurting.

  Immersing her body in the deep tub, she focused on a flickering candle and allowed herself to dream a bit.

  She liked Jake. He was confident, driven, and had a sharp intellect. He also had a sense of humor. During their week of dinner discussions, she had grown comfortable with him…maybe too comfortable. He was someone she could get very close to, if she let herself.

  Was she already in lust? Damn right. Would she pursue this feeling, running the risk of finding herself alone when he made his decision about the property? She wasn’t sure she could handle a relationship, even a temporary one. Yet here she was throwing her convictions out the door and panting like a dog in heat whenever she was around this man.

  “Stop it. You’re not supposed to think about him,” she said out loud to the steaming bath, knowing she couldn’t help herself. Was there such a thing as love at first sight? Her mother, the practical member of the family, would say no. Then why did she feel like she was in free fall every time he stepped into her line of sight?

  She sighed and scooted lower into the water, closed her eyes, and gave in to the dream, firmly pushing away that tiny, persistent problem that buzzed around in her head like a mosquito after the light goes off. What if he decided to sell, despite her efforts?

  What would she do?

  Chapter Five

  “A chilled rosé is a perfect wine for a lazy summer afternoon picnic. Serve it with thin-sliced turkey on whole wheat with cranberry and bean-sprout filling.”

  —from Paige Reynoso’s tasting notes

  Paige turned on the coffeemaker and took a cup out of the cabinet. Morning light streamed into the kitchen. It was nearly seven o’clock, far later than she usually slept.

  They were so close to harvest she wanted to check on that pesky irrigation line in the south quadrant. It was supposed to be fixed, but some of the leaves looked dry. The automatic timers were set for seven thirty, both in the morning and evening. If she hurried, she could get out to the lower field before they turned on.

  An hour later she strolled up to the villa and entered through the back door to check on Jake. What was his mood this morning? Had he read the reports?

  Has he thought about me?

  She dropped the Sunday paper on the kitchen counter and went off in search of Jake. She found him on the terrace, his head bent over a book. Dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, open at the neck, he seemed relaxed and comfortable, like he belonged here.

  “Hi. What are you reading?”

  “Profiles in Courage. I haven’t read it since college. I found it among those books the decorator chose.”

  “Pretty heavy reading for a Sunday morning.”

  His expressive face looked pained. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to tell her something. Instead he put the book down and gestured toward the road. “Where are all those people going? There sure are a lot of cars on the road for a Sunday.”

  “Most of the people down on the Silverado Trail are tourists. They’re off to various wineries, tasting the latest releases.” She perched on one of the patio chairs, her bare legs stretched in front of her. It was a hot day, and she’d worn shorts. “Would you like to join them?”

  Jake marked the page, set his book aside and gazed intently at Paige’s tanned legs, his eyes moving up to her scoop-necked T-shirt.

  “As long as you’re willing to drive, why not?”

  A slight quiver tickled her stomach. Now why had she offered to take him wine tasting? Because it was a friendly, neighborly thing to do, she answered herself, and this was the first full day he was going to try walking without crutches. Why not show him what happens to grapes when they leave the vine?

  Right.

  “I’ll bring up the truck. I know you’re walking better, but let’s not push it. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Is that enough time?”

  “That’s plenty of time for me.” He got up unassisted and made his way slowly back into the house. Paige followed, feeling self-conscious as she passed the rumpled bed on her way to the hall. So far there had been no awkwardness about what had happened last night, the moment when he had reached up to touch her face and thank her for caring about his vineyard, and before, when his breath warmed her ear as they sat side by side on the sofa. The easy camaraderie was back.

  Letting herself out the back door, she strode down the hill to her cottage. Wine tasting was better with lunch, and a quick stop would take care of the essentials.

  She grabbed a picnic basket and put it in the back of the truck before driving up the hill. Jake waited at the bottom of the steps. He’d changed into dress pants and a button-down shirt. He looked like he was on his way to a meeting.

  Can’t take the city out of him, I guess.

  “Hop in.”

  They drove to the gate and turned north. Both windows were rolled all the way down to catch the breeze.

  “First stop is Oakville Grocery. If this is going to be the ultimate Wine Country experience, we need picnic items. You can’t go wine tasting without taking a picnic.”

  “If you say so.”

  Paige turned off the Trail onto a connector road and turned right up Highway 29, passing a clutch of wineries.

  “Is traffic always this bad? I thought there’d be less traffic here than in the city.” Jake seemed amazed at the number of cars heading in both directions on the two-lane road.

  “During the late summer, yes. It gets worse as we approach crush. White wine grapes are already being harvested.”

  Paige loved Oakville Grocery, a well-known novelty in the Napa Valley. Its exterior had the facade of a 1930s general store, but inside was an array of local gourmet delicacies. She went in, made her selections, and joined Jake in the truck.

  “All set?” Jake leaned over and opened the door for her. She stowed her purchases in the picnic basket and slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Can I pay for those?”

  “Nope. My treat. You can pay for the tastings.”

  They pulled into traffic and headed slowly toward St. Helena.

  “So tell me about the Napa Valley,” said Jake.

  “Where should I start? Are you a history buff?”

  “It wasn’t my favorite subject in school, but growing up in Philadelphia you can’t escape the past. I’m more interested in the future right now.”

  There it was again, that hint of sadness that she had noticed before, like an off note in a chromatic scale. She was sensitive to tone because sadness had touched her own life. Maybe he would confide in her someday… Maybe
they could confide in each other, but not today. Today was going to be fun.

  “Napa Valley became a destination after the famous blind tasting of wines in Paris in 1976,” said Paige, warming to her subject. “Well-known wine snobs were invited to judge the quality of wines, but didn’t know where they came from. Imagine their surprise when a chardonnay from Napa Valley beat out all the famous French wines.”

  “Was there a red wine in the group?”

  “Glad you asked. The winner of that competition was one of our neighbors. That’s why your grapes are so good. Same soil.”

  “I thought it was your magic touch.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. She nearly ran off the road wanting to reach over and touch that dimple.

  “That, too.”

  They passed St. Helena and continued north. The day was made for convertibles, not aging pickup trucks. The bare arm she propped on the open window would be sunburned before long.

  “What about the Silverado Trail? It seems an odd name for a highway.”

  “We can thank Robert Louis Stevenson for that. He spent his honeymoon camping out near an abandoned mine called Silverado a few miles from here. He wrote about the place in one of his books. The road leading to the mine was dubbed Silverado Trail.”

  “Seems like you know a lot more about Napa than just growing grapes,” teased Jake, raising an eyebrow. “Sure you aren’t teaching a history class?”

  “Hey. If we were in Philadelphia, I bet you’d be telling me all about the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall.”

  “I sure would. And I’d be showing you the steps Rocky ran up when he was hollering, ‘Adrian, Adrian.’” He said the last in a hoarse whisper, trying to emulate Sylvester Stallone.

  They both burst into laughter.

  “I thought that part came later in the movie,” said Paige, trying to keep the truck under control. She slanted a glance at Jake, who still had a silly grin on his face.

  “You’re good for me, you know that?”

  “Because I make you laugh?”

  “And because…you’re the real deal. No pretensions. No ulterior motives. You say what you mean. It’s refreshing.” He turned away, and her heart thumped out of her chest. “So what’s our first stop?”

  “A winery founded by an easterner, like you. They have a very special place on their property I want you to see. Plus, they buy our grapes for their cabernet.”

  She concentrated on her driving and let the conversation drift off. Jake seemed completely at ease as they wound through vineyards heavy with fruit. They turned into a narrow driveway and parked near a rose garden in full bloom. A small bus idled in front of the tasting room, picking up a group of tourists.

  “Have you been wine tasting before?” She assumed he had. Wineries existed in every state.

  “Once, in North Carolina. I attended a meeting at the Biltmore Estate and wine tasting was one of the afternoon activities.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “I did. I drink wine on occasion, but I don’t have a wine cellar or anything like that.”

  “You do back at the house. It’s just empty right now,” said Paige. She led him slowly over to an open doorway where an attendant was pouring samples behind a long oak counter.

  They found a space at the end and joined two other couples. Jake swallowed each pour, following Paige’s instruction to swirl the contents, sniff the aromas, and then sip, rolling the wine on the tongue to get the full flavor. She watched him as he closed his eyes, letting the full flavors last on his tongue. If he kissed her, he’d taste of cabernet. When he swallowed, he smiled and the dimple appeared.

  “You’re staring.”

  Paige reached up and ran her finger along the side of his mouth where a tiny drop remained. He turned and captured her finger between his lips. “There. Got the last bit,” he said.

  Paige emptied her glass into a small container, aware that her hand was shaking. The man was lethal. How would she get through the day?

  She giggled when he made a face after swallowing a very young zinfandel.

  “That one will be better with aging,” she assured. “But the one I want you to taste is the cabernet with the Garnet Hill designation.”

  “Where’s Garnet Hill?”

  “Home. Your estate.”

  The grin lighting up his face made her want to dance like an NFL player in the end zone. Pride is very important, her mother used to say. She’d never forgotten that lesson.

  “I didn’t know it had a name,” said Jake.

  “An important name in the wine industry.”

  “Why haven’t I heard it before?”

  “Because you left the management of your properties to Kevin? Because it’s a name I made up because we needed a sexy estate title? Because you’ve never been here before?”

  “Guilty as charged. Where to now, Ms. Tour Guide?”

  “Outside. Follow me.”

  He bought a bottle of cabernet sauvignon made with Garnet Hill grapes, and Paige led him back outside.

  “Now for the surprise. Come with me.”

  They followed a path through the garden to an expanse of lawn enclosed by a tall hedge with beds of white and yellow Shasta daisies on both ends. Paige pulled out a blanket and spread it on the grass, dropping the picnic basket with its contents in the center. To the right was a circle of tall redwood trees. She led the way to a path that wound between enormous trunks to a clearing. Inside were benches where one could sit, enveloped in silence, surrounded by trees so tall they seemed to soar into space.

  “Did someone plant these? They didn’t grow like this, did they?” Jake spoke quietly, as if he were in a cathedral.

  “Nobody really knows,” answered Paige, looking up to where the leafy canopy opened to the sky. “But I wanted you to see it. I always feel at peace when I come here.”

  They soaked in the quiet serenity for a while. Paige got up and took Jake’s hand, helping him up from the low bench. When they reached the outdoor path, he continued to hold her hand as if it were the most natural thing to do. They strolled back through the opening to the picnic area, where Jake carefully lowered himself to the blanket.

  “Most people order a bottle of wine for lunch,” said Paige, sitting beside him. She rummaged through the basket and handed him a sandwich. “But I want your taste buds to be in full operation at our other two stops. So we’re going to drink water.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Besides, I have to drive, so you’d have to drink the entire bottle all by yourself.”

  “Good point.”

  They ate in silence, the smell of flowers and the chatter of birds their only companions in the secluded spot. The afternoon was warm, and Paige wished she could curl up on the blanket and sleep in the shadow of the towering redwood trees. She was aware of Jake’s gaze on her face and wondered if the heat curling through her body was from the sun or his attention. He frowned, looking away.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I’m taking up too much of your time.”

  He reached over and gently ran his fingers down the side of her face, cupping her chin. She closed her eyes and savored the soothing caress. She wanted the fingers to continue down her neck and over her collarbone. If she kept her eyes closed, maybe she would feel him trace the scoop of her neckline.

  Voices in the distance reminded her they were in a public place. She opened her eyes and studied Jake’s serious expression, those full lips just inches from her own.

  “I have to spend time with you, Jake. How else can I convince you to keep Garnet Hill? Besides, you feed me at the end of the day, you listen to my boring monologues on the care and feeding of grapevines, and you even laugh at my jokes. What’s not to like?”

  He grinned, dropped his hand, and stretched out on the blanket. He took her hand, coaxing her to lie down beside him. “Now, isn’t that better? Close your eyes and listen to the birds. That’s not something I get to do in my New York office.”<
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  The scent of newly mowed grass and blooming roses from the nearby garden assailed her senses. She breathed in, letting her mind go blank, feeling the sun warm her face. She was intensely conscious of the man stretched out next to her. Every nerve in her body thrummed with the desire to pull him on top of her, to feel every muscle against her own. Instead she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of a blue jay somewhere near the redwood grove.

  A hand grasped her fingers. Jake seemed to need her touch as much as she needed his. He released them and rolled onto his side. Elbow planted on the ground, he propped his head and seemed to study her face.

  “Who are you, Paige Reynoso?”

  “You know who I am.”

  “Do I? Do I really?” He leaned down and gently brushed her lips with his own.

  His lips were featherlight as he kissed the corner of her mouth, moving slowly to the center, gently prying her lips open as he deepened the kiss. Paige held very still, her body tense, her breath gone, hoping to keep the moment alive as long as possible.

  She moved her hand up into his thick hair, holding his head to hers while their tongues met, and she allowed longing and hope to flood her senses for the first time in a year. Moving back, he stared into her eyes once again, as if searching for something. She wondered what he saw reflected there.

  “If we stay here a minute longer, I will be arrested for doing something totally improper in a very public place,” he said. “Now how would that look in your local paper?”

  Paige laughed. It eased the tension and broke the spell, but that was probably a good thing.

  Still smiling, she helped Jake gather up the picnic items, and they headed back to the truck. They weren’t touching, but their closeness was palpable. Paige wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but they had turned an important corner.

  They went to two more places and gave the wines the swirl, sniff, and sip test, then headed home in the late afternoon. Paige dropped Jake off at his door.