Crush on You (4 page)

“No.” She realized the bastard Bennett was still standing too close, so she jumped out of the chair and put a decent distance between them. “
No.
”

“I didn’t think so,” Sally said. “You wouldn’t . . .”

“I don’t,” Alessandra hastened to assure her, and the relief on the other woman’s face made her eyes sting. With a knuckle, she blotted away an errant tear. “I won’t.”

“Allie was just telling me that everything’s advancing nicely at the winery,” Clare put in.

Blinking away a second tear, Alessandra took up the new subject. “That’s right. We had a little scare with Newton, but he’s back on board.”

“I heard about that scare,” Sally said, frowning. “That’s why I was looking for you this morning. Are you sure the construction is back on schedule?”

She nodded. “I’m sure. Nothing’s going to ruin Clare’s day.”

“That Newton, though,” Sally said, shaking her head. “I’m not sure we can count on him to get it right. I don’t want Clare and Jordan stepping inside the cottage unless we’re 100 percent certain the roof won’t come tumbling down.”

“I think we should be more worried about Jordan being there at all,” Clare murmured.

Sally shot her daughter a look. “What? What’s going on? Are you and Jordan in a fight?”

“Forget I said anything,” Clare mumbled again. “It’s not important.”

“Not important!” Sally started.

“I’m just whining about his frequent business trips,” Clare hastened to say. “He’s making noises about missing his own bachelor party.”

Sally visibly relaxed. “If that’s all . . .”

“Gil is going to a lot of trouble to organize it,” Clare said. “With the best man in Florida, I volunteered him for the job and I’ll feel bad if the guest of honor’s a no-show.”

“What’s Gil actually planning?” Sally scoffed. “Opening a bag of pretzels and putting a tacky DVD on the player at his greasy auto shop?”

Clare bristled, just like she did every time her mother disparaged Gil and his car repair business. He’d been Clare’s best friend since kindergarten. “Mom . . .”

Now seemed a good time to step in and redirect the discussion. “Sally,” Alessandra said. “Newton is doing a fine job, but if it would make you feel better, drop by and check out the progress for yourself.”

The distraction worked. Sally frowned again. “But I don’t know anything about construction.”

“Maybe I could offer my expertise,” a smooth voice said.

Alessandra glanced over her shoulder. Penn was still there! She’d thought ignoring him would make the man go away. If not, the wedding chatter should have done the trick. “We don’t need you,” she told him.

He sidled up to her, too close once again. “You might just be wrong about that.”

Sally was staring at him, as if really seeing him for the first time. “You’re . . . you’re Penn Bennett.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He proffered a hand, which she shook.

“Penn Bennett,” Sally said again, obviously dazzled. “You’re famous.”

Alessandra rolled her eyes. “He’s not famous.”

“Yes I am.”

“Yes he is.”

Penn and Clare spoke at the same time.

Alessandra rolled her eyes again.
Note to self,
never
watch
Build Up My Ego
, or whatever it is Penn Bennett calls his show.

“Absolutely I’ll feel much better if Penn goes over Newton’s work,” Sally announced. “What do you say, Allie?”

She had said she never wanted to think about Penn Bennett or ever see him again, but how could she refuse a request from Tommy’s mom? Alessandra’s tone was grudging, but she managed to force out the invitation. “Sure, Penn. Come by. You’re welcome anytime.”

From her second-floor bedroom window, Alessandra could see a light bobbing in the vicinity of Anne and Alonzo’s cottage. With a resigned sigh, she headed downstairs then outside, collecting a flashlight and shoving her cell phone in the pocket of her shorts along the way. She strode off into the early evening darkness, wondering just how many times she’d shooed lovers out of the trysting place they’d made of the bungalow.

If her middle sister was here, she’d probably let them at it, but Stevie lived a few miles away in a duplex near town. Giuliana, who was subletting a condo in Edenville, would applaud her youngest sister’s resolve, citing legalities or liabilities or something like that.

Alessandra just didn’t want anyone messing with her wedding venue.

It wasn’t that she resented other people their chance for a sexual encounter. Or not much anyway.

Instead of tromping along the gravel, she kept to the grassy edges of the lane. The surroundings were quiet, with the vineyard manager’s lodgings a half-mile north and the doors to the wine caves/tasting room locked as they always were by four p.m. Alessandra didn’t worry about being alone, though. She had her cell phone if there was trouble, and a pair of randy teenagers was an unlikely threat.

There wasn’t a car in the guest parking lot, but she didn’t expect to see one anyway. They strung a chain across the winery’s turn-off from the main road at night. The usual M.O. of uninvited visitors was to leave their ride there and then travel down the drive on foot.

Ah-ha
, she thought as she reached the bottom of the bungalow’s steps. She was right about after-hours company. A flashlight glimmer glowed from inside the old residence. The new double front doors had yet to be installed, though Newton and company had finished gutting the interior, careful not to damage the massive river-rock fireplace that Alonzo was said to have built himself. The bungalow’s interior was now the size of a small chapel and would seat seventy.

The new construction plan called for a few smaller rooms to be partitioned at the back and the walls were already framed in with two-by-fours. Some of the Sheetrock was even in place, the seams of the panels not yet taped. At the rear left was a small alcove where the groom could wait, on the right, a much larger boudoir that was designed for the bride’s final primping.

The light came from the entrance to that room.

Alessandra stood at the cottage’s main threshold and pitched her voice in that direction. “Hello?”

There was sudden surprise in the air.

She sighed. “Don’t panic. Believe me, you’re not the first I’ve discovered here.” Not even the twenty-first. The location held a cult status for area lovers. “I’ve found wilted flowers on the floor. A velvet-lined ring box once. And don’t get me started on the condom wrapper count.”

The thought of that made her eyes narrow and sharpened her words. “C’mon, now. You’re busted.”

Another silent moment passed, then footsteps clapped along the hardwood floors that were yet to be restored. The beam of a flashlight traveled in her direction.

His voice reached her first.

“Will you read me my rights, or are we going straight to the strip search?”

“Oh, fudge,” she muttered. She would have used stronger language, but it didn’t seem fitting in this place where people were going to pledge everlasting love. “What are you doing here?” she demanded as Penn Bennett stepped into the main room.

It wasn’t as if he wore a tuxedo, but even in jeans and a light sweater pushed up to his elbows, he managed to make her feel awkward and underdressed. She yanked on the hem of her sweatshirt and her bare toes curled in the confines of her running shoes. His shadow moved against the wall like a dark giant as he approached, and the image made her shiver.

“If I recall correctly—and I have excellent recall,” he said, “you invited me to make an inspection.”

She frowned at him. That had been three days ago and since the beauty shop she hadn’t caught one glimpse of his wide shoulders or taunting smile. In the dark, she couldn’t tell if he’d gotten that haircut he’d said had brought him into the salon that day, but even from several feet away she knew his scent was the same, tangy lime combined with a heated note of male skin that would smell even more delicious paired with crisp white sheets.

Shaking her head to dispel the idea, she shoved her hands in her pockets, dragging them down so that her shorts covered more of her legs. She couldn’t swear that he was looking at them, but she could feel
something
traveling across her body, something like a hot breeze or a callused touch. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the winery’s closed for the day.”

“ ‘You’re welcome anytime,’ ” he quoted, repeating her words. “And I was out for an early evening walk when I remembered the offer.”

The Bennett property adjoined that of Tanti Baci, and years ago, when they were still being civil to each other, her sister Giuliana and Liam had worn a shortcut that still survived. It didn’t mean she had to like that Penn was using it. “Yes, but—”

“Don’t be mad.” His white teeth flashed and his voice lowered to a husky whisper. “I do my best work in the dark, little girl.”

“Oh, please. Can the innuendo, will you?” Not for a million dollars—which she could really use right now, by the way—would she let him see how that sexual burr in his voice made the skin along her spine prickle.

“If you’ll can the crying,” he countered, his voice all-business again. “I caught you at it that first day, and then again at the salon. So you know, I find crocodile tears a huge turnoff.”

“I’m not trying to turn you on! I don’t want to turn you on!”

“But surely you’re old enough to have learned . . .” He stepped closer and out came that seductive burr again. “You don’t always get your heart’s desire.” The pad of one finger stopped short of her cheek, but he stroked the air a millimeter off. Though the faux-touch stopped at her jawline, she felt it travel like a poison-tipped arrow down the center of her body.

Poison-tipped, because it was infecting her with a sudden awareness of her female parts—her breasts, the softness between her legs, the smooth skin of her face that would be reddened by the kisses of a man with lean muscles and a hard mouth surrounded by golden stubble.

The sickness was lust!

She stepped back, stumbling over the threshold. Penn’s hand shot out, but pulse whomping, she managed to avoid his fingers and retain her balance. Still, her feet put more inches of distance between them.

“Do I scare you?” he asked, sounding amused. “Why are you so jumpy?”

“You’re nothing to me.” Pushing away the impulse to run back home, she stepped back inside. He wasn’t going to get the best of her. “But since you’re here, why don’t you give me your opinion of the cottage?”

“Beyond my surprise that you bothered trying to save the place?”

She’d heard that before, from the other Bennetts. From her sisters. From the bank. “Do you know the history of the Tanti Baci winery?”

“The
Cliff’s Notes
version. Alonzo Baci and another guy—”

“The other guy was the first Liam Bennett who is your great-great-grandfather.”

“—partnered up in a silver mine and when the ore ran out they invested their profits in land.”

“This land,” Alessandra confirmed. “Alonzo had learned about growing grapes and making wine in his homeland of Italy, and Liam Bennett went along for the ride. Though later Liam bought some adjoining property that the Bennetts developed into their own vineyards, this place has been jointly owned since the beginning.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she thought how the land had been then—not tamed with ordered rows of vines, but growing wild with long grasses and dotted with oaks and evergreens. It had taken sweat and will to clear the acres and Papa had claimed you could taste the area’s natural fecundity as well as its settlers’ grit and dreams in Napa Valley wine.

Penn’s voice interrupted her musings. “From what I hear, Alonzo thought Liam’s woman was a joint project, too. He stole her away, causing a grudge that’s never been settled.”

Alessandra shook her head. “Those are sour grapes passed down your family line.” Decades of tangled business dealings had kept the Bennett-Baci feud at varying stages of simmer, though it was true that the original rift had started with two men loving one woman. “Liam wanted Anne, but it was Alonzo the Italian immigrant who won the beautiful San Francisco society girl. She and Alonzo were the real thing, and this is the home where they lived out their happy marriage. It lasted over fifty years.”

“Which makes it the perfect location to hold the Tanti Baci winery weddings.”

She glanced up at him, surprised he made the connection. “It makes sense to you too, then?”

He shrugged. “I’m in the entertainment business. You always need a hook, and this one’s yours.”

His understanding made her feel a bit more charitable toward him. “And it’s a nice parallel to one of our signature products, too.”

“The sparkling wine,” he said. “Liam mentioned that to me as well.”

Which probably meant Penn knew the dire financial straits Tanti Baci was facing. “That’s right. We’ve been offering it to the public for forty-nine years—the golden anniversary of the first commercial sale is next summer. We keep a ledger detailing every bridal couple that has poured it on their wedding day and not one of them has ever divorced.”