The Year of Chasing Dreams by Lurlene McDaniel Page A

pulled out a Styrofoam box. “My best reserve vintage from last year.”
    His vineyards were famous and his wines some of the finest in Tuscany. “Thanks. Can’t wait to open one.” She led him up the steps, through the foyer, and down a hallway and into the kitchen. “There’s usually someone here. My mom must have run out.”
    He set the box on the counter, took Ciana’s hands in his, appraised her head to toe. “You are as lovely as I remember,
bella
Ciana.”
    She blushed, knowing her hair was windblown and her face makeup-free, and she figured she smelled like hay and horse feed. “Nice of you to say. I was in town running errands, buying seed. I start planting middle of next month.” Reminding herself of another bill that would come due all too soon. His brown eyes caught hers, taking her back to evenings in Italy with him, when he’d held her, kissed her. She felt her face grow warm with the memories. “Let me take your coat. We’ll sit in the front room.”
    He slid his coat off, handed it to her. The fine cashmere felt soft as silk. She led him into the refurbished parlor with its midcentury furnishings, grateful that she’d gotten it freshly painted and put back together over the winter. She draped his coat over a chair, sat on the sofa, and patted the cushion beside her. “So what brings you to Nashville?”
    He eased beside her. “Often I go to New York City to a few select restaurants to sell my wines to key clients. This year I brought some to Nashville. I have heard it might be a good market.”
    She was surprised he’d come so far west. “Long way from New York.”
    “And I come also to meet with a man who wishes to buy the stud services of one of my prize stallions.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.
    Enzo’s horses were world-class thoroughbreds, greatly valued in the equestrian world. She was certain breeding fees would be substantial. “I’m impressed.”
    Enzo’s hand slid over hers, making her remember that he liked to touch her. She had liked it too. “The patron has four daughters, all riders, and one wishes to ride in the Olympics one day. For that she needs a very good horse.”
    “Won’t it take years to raise a colt?”
    “She is young, and her father gives her what her heart desires.” He used his other hand to gesture. “She is a—how do you say—a child with his younger wife. His other daughters are grown.”
    Ciana caught on instantly. Older man. Second wife. Child of their own. Indulged. “Well, you do have great horses, so she’ll be lucky to have one from their bloodlines. I know I enjoyed our rides together.”
    He smiled. “And the picnics?”
    “And the picnics.” There was no forgetting the bountiful picnics on his property by the lake. Or the way he’d lavished attention on her. She fidgeted.
    Just then, her mother’s voice called from the kitchen, “Ciana? You here? There’s a strange car in the front—” Coming into the parlor, she stopped abruptly. “Oh, hello.”
    Enzo stood and so did Ciana, who quickly made introductions. He took Alice Faye’s hand, showered her with greetings in beautifully accented English and courtly manners.
    Ciana watched her mother’s face color as she smiled shylyand slipped her hand from Enzo’s. Ciana recognized what was happening immediately. Alice Faye’s hands were a farm woman’s hands, rough and callused from years of hard work, hands she thought unfit to be caressed by one such as Enzo. Somehow understanding her mother’s embarrassment touched Ciana. She stepped up quickly. “Mom, I first met Enzo in one of his vineyards. He was working with his vines, and he caught me inspecting a handful of dirt and almost called the police.”
    Enzo laughed and together, they told Alice Faye the whole story. She laughed with them, her eyes frequently lingering on Enzo. The man oozed sexual warmth. He didn’t flaunt it; he simply owned it. No wonder her mother was charmed. Ciana had been too.