earlier, the last summer match before her life had tilted and fate had rolled her to California.
His elegant features snapped last night’s dream into place for the briefest moment. But there was no way this man had figured in her dreams; she was barely acquainted with him and hadn’t seen him for years. She was edgy and being ridiculous.
“Zoe, meet Vico Gualdieri. He’s about to undergo the rigors of the classroom with us.”
She shook his offered hand. His hand was cool, his skin smooth, almost waxy. His fingers were long and tapered, each ending in a perfectly buffed nail. She pulled her hand away.
“We meet again.” At the sound of his deep voice and Roman accent, she met his eyes. Dark. And though he smiled at her, the smile did not warm those eyes.
“Yes. Apparently,” she said in Italian. “Adrian tells me you too have been sent on assignment from your family.” He narrowed his eyes, and she added, “You’d think they could come up with something more elegant than sequestering us in a dismal room like this on such a gorgeous day.”
“We’ll be in the field tomorrow,” Adrian said.
Always looking to the bright side, her sweet brother. They’d once been inseparable in their optimism. Looking at him, seeing his true enthusiasm, she felt the stirrings of wanting to reclaim hers. Maybe Adrian was right. It was time to re-inhabit life and whatever it might bring her way.
But as Adrian and Vico rattled on about the viniculture curriculum—their staccato Italian drawing curious eyes—her longing for Italy ramped up and she couldn’t shove it down. Just as she couldn’t ignore the sweeping glances that Vico sent her way. Or her curiosity about the activities of mutual acquaintances in the Italian polo circuit.
Vico answered her questions with a smooth wit and easy manner. Adrian invited him to sit with them as the lecture began. She noticed that while her brother scribbled furious notes, Vico didn’t take any, instead staring vacantly at the lecturer as if his mind was somewhere else. She couldn’t fault him for that—it took all her concentration to keep her attention on the lecture. She should be grateful for the opportunity to have a leading role in the new family business. She should be interested. Images flashed on the screen at the front of the room, but her heart was caught up with images of its own. She wanted to open the gallery where she could display her mother’s works. She wanted to go home. As the class dragged on, her plan took better shape in her mind—along with the careful argument she would make to her father when the time was right.
“Tomorrow we’ll be in the north vineyards,” the lecturer announced, winding up the talk that Zoe had lost track of. “Bring water. We’ll be out there for about two hours.”
The group applauded, and clusters of people talked in animated tones about the lecture as they filtered out of the room.
“Join us for lunch,” Adrian said to Vico as the three of them walked out into the warming day. “We can show you the new irrigation system we just put in.”
“I’d love to. I’m parked just over there,” Vico said, pointing to a brand-new silver Maserati. “I’ll follow you.”
The car fit the man—sleek and polished. Sophisticated.
“Want to ride with me?” Vico asked, misreading Zoe’s assessing stare. She could have such a car if she wished, but sports cars were highly impractical on vineyard roads. But Vico was a piece of home and she found herself saying yes, wanting to hear more news of Rome, wanting to keep alive the flame that talking about her friends and familiar places had kindled. She ignored the niggling feelings of misgiving that gnawed at her for no good reason. It was harder to ignore Adrian’s ridiculous wink as Vico held the car door for her.
Cody held the high tensile wire taut as Scotty wrapped it around the post and twisted it tight. He and Scotty had left Trovare just after dawn and after
His elegant features snapped last night’s dream into place for the briefest moment. But there was no way this man had figured in her dreams; she was barely acquainted with him and hadn’t seen him for years. She was edgy and being ridiculous.
“Zoe, meet Vico Gualdieri. He’s about to undergo the rigors of the classroom with us.”
She shook his offered hand. His hand was cool, his skin smooth, almost waxy. His fingers were long and tapered, each ending in a perfectly buffed nail. She pulled her hand away.
“We meet again.” At the sound of his deep voice and Roman accent, she met his eyes. Dark. And though he smiled at her, the smile did not warm those eyes.
“Yes. Apparently,” she said in Italian. “Adrian tells me you too have been sent on assignment from your family.” He narrowed his eyes, and she added, “You’d think they could come up with something more elegant than sequestering us in a dismal room like this on such a gorgeous day.”
“We’ll be in the field tomorrow,” Adrian said.
Always looking to the bright side, her sweet brother. They’d once been inseparable in their optimism. Looking at him, seeing his true enthusiasm, she felt the stirrings of wanting to reclaim hers. Maybe Adrian was right. It was time to re-inhabit life and whatever it might bring her way.
But as Adrian and Vico rattled on about the viniculture curriculum—their staccato Italian drawing curious eyes—her longing for Italy ramped up and she couldn’t shove it down. Just as she couldn’t ignore the sweeping glances that Vico sent her way. Or her curiosity about the activities of mutual acquaintances in the Italian polo circuit.
Vico answered her questions with a smooth wit and easy manner. Adrian invited him to sit with them as the lecture began. She noticed that while her brother scribbled furious notes, Vico didn’t take any, instead staring vacantly at the lecturer as if his mind was somewhere else. She couldn’t fault him for that—it took all her concentration to keep her attention on the lecture. She should be grateful for the opportunity to have a leading role in the new family business. She should be interested. Images flashed on the screen at the front of the room, but her heart was caught up with images of its own. She wanted to open the gallery where she could display her mother’s works. She wanted to go home. As the class dragged on, her plan took better shape in her mind—along with the careful argument she would make to her father when the time was right.
“Tomorrow we’ll be in the north vineyards,” the lecturer announced, winding up the talk that Zoe had lost track of. “Bring water. We’ll be out there for about two hours.”
The group applauded, and clusters of people talked in animated tones about the lecture as they filtered out of the room.
“Join us for lunch,” Adrian said to Vico as the three of them walked out into the warming day. “We can show you the new irrigation system we just put in.”
“I’d love to. I’m parked just over there,” Vico said, pointing to a brand-new silver Maserati. “I’ll follow you.”
The car fit the man—sleek and polished. Sophisticated.
“Want to ride with me?” Vico asked, misreading Zoe’s assessing stare. She could have such a car if she wished, but sports cars were highly impractical on vineyard roads. But Vico was a piece of home and she found herself saying yes, wanting to hear more news of Rome, wanting to keep alive the flame that talking about her friends and familiar places had kindled. She ignored the niggling feelings of misgiving that gnawed at her for no good reason. It was harder to ignore Adrian’s ridiculous wink as Vico held the car door for her.
Cody held the high tensile wire taut as Scotty wrapped it around the post and twisted it tight. He and Scotty had left Trovare just after dawn and after
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