The Sicilian's Bride by Carol Grace Page B

for a long moment while he just stood and stared. The voices in the bar faded.
    He’d planned to maintain whatever distance was necessary, however much he admired her determination, that’s all he wanted to admire, but at that moment all his plans were forgotten as he appreciated her for what she was, a stunning apparition who stood out even in a crowd of attractive Italian women at the bar. It was her copper-colored hair, and it was her body wrapped in a blue-green dress that showed her curves to everyone in the bar. They turned to gawk at the newcomer. They’d have to be blind not to notice her.
    He noticed too. In fact it was impossible for him to look away. In her face he saw hesitation, a hint of unease. After all, she was the stranger here. He had to force himself to stay where he was instead of rushing over to her and claiming her as his guest, or whatever she was. Certainly she wasn’t his date, since he didn’t date and didn’t intend to.
    “Ready to go?” he said, and set his empty glass on the bar before leading her outside to his car.
    “The hotel owner is very nice,” Isabel said as Dario openedthe car door for her. “He was telling me about the big wine competition coming up. Sounds exciting and quite important.”
    “That’s right.” She wouldn’t have any wine to enter this year. She’d be a spectator. She’d see Montessori recapture the gold this year, if the judges knew what they were doing. And next year? Would she be his competitor then?
    “I suppose you’ll enter.”
    “Of course. It’s important to take away a medal, the gold if possible.”
    “I’d like to enter. Maybe next year…” She looked away with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Oh, and he told me I need to have a Blessing of the Grapes ceremony.”
    “That’s true.” Once her grapes were blessed there was no turning back. She’d be hooked, she’d have respect, a place in the community and she’d never leave no matter what happened. Maybe it was time to recognize the facts and get on the train before it left the station without him.
    As he drove he was struck by the sweet smell of jasmine. Just when it was best to keep his distance from her, he wanted to get closer. He wanted to inhale her skin and find out where the scent came from. Was it her bare shoulders? Her neck, her throat? Or was it the flame-colored hair that brushed against her shoulders? He shouldn’t have had that drink in the bar. He needed his brain and all his senses on the alert for this evening with his family.
    For so long he hadn’t looked at another woman. He had a permanent pain in his chest where his heart was and he had vowed never to be taken in again, a vow that was easy to keep. He hadn’t been tempted. Not once.
    He told himself there was no chance it could happen again. Magdalena had aimed a spear right through his heart. Every time he took a deep breath, every time he woke up in the night thinking of his colossal mistake, he felt the pain in his chest,and he didn’t expect it ever to go away. Why should it? He deserved it. It was a constant reminder of how naive he’d been to fall for someone like her.
    The American woman was a slight diversion, which he needed. Nothing major. There was no harm in admiring her for what she was or in helping her out when she needed it. His family was right. He’d been working too hard. He needed a break from time to time. Whether sparring with her or feeding her or admiring her determination, he found Isabel a change from his all-work-and-no-play lifestyle. That was all it was. No need to worry. He told himself to give it a rest.
    “I’m glad you enjoyed speaking to the hotel owner. The hotel bar is a gathering spot for the neighborhood, which is another reason I strongly recommend you stay there.” Why should she deprive herself of the comfort of the hotel and brave the rigors of living at the Azienda?
    “You have a point,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot of neighborhood news there.”
    He