The Gemini Deception (48 page)

Resting her hands on her hips, Harper looked slowly from Ryden’s eyes to the very deep cleavage revealed by her shirt.

“I didn’t want to miss you anymore,” Ryden said. “So I looked up your vineyard and came to find you.”

Harper smiled. “You look great.”

“Don’t let the foundation fool you. I have circles blacker than tar under my eyes.”

Harper walked the few steps to her, not daring to take her eyes off Ryden, afraid that if she blinked Ryden would disappear like a dream. She gently placed a stray lock of hair behind Ryden’s ear. “Beautiful is what you are.”

“It’s how I feel when you look at me.”

“Breathless is how you leave me.” Harper caressed her ear.

“I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t explain it, but when I’m with you, everything is perfect. I come alive.”

Harper craved those lips. She leaned forward as Ryden closed her eyes, but a shout from her foreman interrupted them.

“Signorina Harper, your next appointment is here.”

Both of them looked in his direction. Harper felt like she was in a trance.

“I’d better leave.” Ryden was breathing heavily.

“Please, stay. I’m going to give a potential customer a tour of the vineyard, and I’d like you to join us.”

“I’d like that, too.”

“After they leave,” Harper said, “I’d like to take you to my home and cook for us.”

“I didn’t know you cook.”

“Then it’s about time we got to know each other.”

*

Once she’d toured the cozy Tuscany farmhouse, Ryden went to sit in the garden with a cold glass of iced tea while Harper jumped under the shower.

She couldn’t get enough of the magnificent panoramic view: the lush, eye-popping green of the vineyard, carved into terraces that cascaded down the side of the mountain to the rich, multi-hued blues of the sea below. The terra-cotta rooftops of a village etched into the cliffs along the distant water’s edge caught the sunlight, while above, a massive flock of seagulls rode the air currents in a spectacular and seemingly choreographed display of aerial acrobatics. Here and there, small plumes of smoke rose from the greenery, where hired hands burned off dead trimmings from the vines. If the planet had one perfect spot where beauty met serenity, this was it.

She heard noise from inside the farmhouse, so she slipped into the kitchen through a side screen door that adjoined the garden. Harper stood hunched over a chopping board, her back turned. She made no sign she’d heard Ryden come in, so Ryden used the opportunity to study her from the doorway.

Not only did Harper look comfortable cooking, she appeared well versed in the fundamentals of Italian cuisine. She’d told Ryden that Italians believed the magic lay in the simplicity and freshness of the ingredients, so tonight’s angel-hair pasta would be accompanied by a sauce made from sun-ripened tomatoes, scallions, basil, olive oil, and regional cheeses.

Captivated, she watched the easy, sensual way Harper moved, fluid grace in every motion, with no wasted step or gesture as she chopped ingredients and tossed them into a wide saucepan. Ryden couldn’t take her eyes off Harper’s ass, perfectly defined by the light linen trousers she’d changed into, and realized for the first time why men spent so much of their life checking out women and thinking about sex.

“Enjoying the view or the smells?” Harper asked, her back still turned.

“Both,” Ryden replied with confidence, actually glad she’d been caught appreciating Harper.

“I’m glad.” Harper looked at her with those penetrating blue eyes.

“Can I do something?” Ryden asked, relieved she could form a sentence in the face of such enticing temptation.

“You’re going to have to be more specific before I answer that.” Harper stared at her mouth.

How could this woman turn her on with just one look or sentence? “Can I help you in the kitchen?” Ryden asked.

“Are you being deliberately vague?”

Her cheeks burned with the insinuation. “I’d like to help you prepare dinner.”

Harper smiled. “You’re fun to tease. Here…” She placed a knife on the counter. “Why don’t you work on the salad?”

Ryden stood next to her, slicing tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, and red onion, while Harper cooked.

“Almost ready.” Harper dipped her finger in the sauce and was about to taste it when Ryden stopped her hand.

“Let me,” Ryden said.

Harper let Ryden guide her finger to Ryden’s mouth.

She slowly licked off the sauce, playing her tongue provocatively around Harper’s finger, never taking her eyes off Harper’s. “Delicious,” she whispered.

Harper swallowed.

“You’re fun to tease.”
Touché
, Ryden thought, with a satisfied smile.

“I love to be
teased
,” Harper replied, “in the kitchen and every other room.”

Ryden had to put some space between them before she embarrassed herself. She took a step back. “I’ll set the table.”

They ate at the rough-hewn table by the outdoor fireplace, sitting side by side on a bench that faced the spectacular view. As they talked about Italy and drank Harper’s divine red wine, Ryden found herself torn between staring at the view—spectacular in the setting sun—and Harper’s equally compelling profile, her bronzed skin shining in the amber light, eyes sparkling in pride at her vineyard, and her inviting, lush lips.

After they finished their food and cleared the table, they poured a second glass and returned to sit in comfortable canvas chairs by the fireplace.

“You never told me why that special-edition wine I drank was so important,” Ryden said.

“Pepo—the founder of the vineyard—gave it to me before he died. It was a fifty-five-year-old wine, the first to be produced.”

Ryden gasped. “Oh my G…I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Clearly.” Harper smiled.

“No wonder you got so upset. I thought it was because it was expensive.”

“It was priceless because it was given to me by the only father I ever knew. He was my family.”

Ryden sat there shaking her head. How could she have been so stupid and insensitive?

“Hey, what’s done is done.” Harper touched her hand. “It was about time someone drank it.”

“Maybe, but not me. I can hardly tell the difference between wine and Sprite.”

Harper laughed. “That’s not true.”

“But you know what I mean.” Ryden couldn’t even look at her.

“If it makes you feel any better, I kept the bottle.”

“Should it? Because it doesn’t.”

Harper sat back in the chair. “I guess it was always about the bottle, since I never intended to drink the wine. The bottle is what I looked at whenever I missed home and the grapes. So, now it’s empty.” Harper shrugged. “Only means it’s lighter to carry around.”

“You’re too kind. I’ll have to accept your reasoning since I can’t replace it.”

“I mean it,” Harper said.

“Why did you choose Angelo as a name for your wine?”

“Pepo was obsessed with his dog,” Harper replied, her voice tinged with a bittersweet sadness at the memory. “This house and vineyard have never been without an Angelo, even after he died and I took over.”

Ryden looked around.

“He died a month and a half ago,” Harper explained quietly. “I buried him up there.”

Ryden ached to ease the pain in Harper’s voice. “You must miss him.”

“Like crazy.”

“Will you get another?”

“Of course. I can’t imagine life without a dog.”

“But not yet.”

“I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

“A particular litter?”

Harper shook her head. “I don’t believe in buying expensive certified breeds when the shelter here is full of strays that desperately need a home.”

“I totally agree, especially after having worked for a shelter for the past month. You won’t believe how many people dump their dog because it’s no longer a fuzzy, cute puppy the kids want to play with.”

“It’s ridiculously sad. I don’t see how anyone can decide to get rid of a living creature because it’s no longer convenient. You wouldn’t do that to your child.”

“So the right moment depends on, what?” Ryden asked.

“I just know. The same way I know which dog to pick. It’s a personal moment for me and something I do alone, so that I know the animal is mine and I’m his, no one else in between. It’s silly, I know, but—”

“But you want to know
you’ve
been chosen. You, exclusively, and without a doubt or hesitation.”

Harper smiled. “Yeah.”

“I’ve been tempted to take at least ten dogs home in the past month.”

“Nothing yet?”

“I keep putting it off. But who knows? Maybe when I get back.”

Harper’s smile disappeared. “When do you go back?”

“The day after tomorrow. I wanted to take a week off, but…I’m new, so I had to beg for the three days. I told them I had a family emergency back home. I never said I was going to Italy.”

“Good thinking.” Harper got up to tend to the fire.

“One of the few perks of being able to reinvent yourself is that you get to be someone with a loving, fully functional family who needs you to rush home.”

“I guess,” Harper said flippantly.

“Don’t you miss it? Having a family?”

“Not really.” Harper sat back down. “Not in the traditional sense, anyway. What I miss is someone I can call family. I’ve never wasted my time with
what ifs
because I can’t miss a mom or dad when I’ve never had to lose them. But what I can miss is a sense of belonging, a mutual feeling of being needed and wanted.” Harper took a sip of wine. “Now,
that
I miss.”

“She hurt you a lot.”

“I’m no expert, but there’s no bigger hurt than that of betrayal,” Harper said. “To find out you loved what was never there, loved someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t give herself…because who she wanted, what she needed, wasn’t what you had to offer.”

Ryden wanted the mountains to echo the desperate screams of her heart. She’d never intended to deceive Harper; duplicity was not who she was or could ever be, and she desperately wanted this woman to believe and forgive her. But her decisions, and her new life, allowed for nothing more than a glimpse of what could have been.

She had made the trip because she had to see Harper, and tell her she was sorry, and prove what she felt had nothing to do with Moore or money. But fate had sealed the deal for her. This wonderful, hurt woman could never trust her, and the worst part was, she couldn’t blame her. The bottom line was, she had lied about who she was, what she did, and even what she looked like, and nothing she could say or do in the very limited time they had together would make Harper believe her intentions were honest and her feelings true.

Ryden didn’t know what to do. The fact that Harper, a woman completely out of her league, found her attractive was flattering and exciting, but what Ryden felt went above and beyond a mere weekend to remember. Would she spend the rest of her life regretting what could have been or regretting the memory of a beautiful mistake?

“I lied…to you.” Ryden shifted in her chair. “I hurt you and…I almost got you killed.” She stopped and both stared at the flames.

She took a deep breath. “I can say I’m sorry, say I never meant for any of it, but the simple fact is I…I can’t erase what I did, the same way you can’t erase your regrets for having trusted me.”

Harper sat listening, saying nothing, either because she didn’t want to interrupt or because she didn’t have anything to add to the indisputable truth.

“I wish I could say that if I could turn back time, I’d make different choices, but…I’d be lying. I took this job to save my life and I lied to you to protect yours.”

“I know.”

Ryden nodded. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I deceived you, does it?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Her heart sank in disappointment.

“But what bothers me most…” Harper sat forward, “is that you were so quick to give up who you were: your life, face, identity, to become someone else.”

“It didn’t seem like a sacrifice, then.”

“How could you so easily reject who you are? Who you’d become?” Harper sounded aggravated.

“Because I couldn’t appreciate what I had. I couldn’t see what life had given, just the things it had taken from me.”

“I can understand not being happy with how life sent you off, what it deprived you of. But, on the other hand, look at what it gave you. It made you a fighter, a woman capable of fending for herself and finding ways out when there were no doors.”

Ryden nodded. “That it did.”

“It made you the most beautiful kind of woman, the kind that’s too busy surviving to realize just how attractive she is,” Harper said. “Trust me, no amount of makeup or surgery can create beauty that isn’t there.”

“Thank you,” Ryden said halfheartedly. “I’m glad you think of me in those terms.”

“But?” Harper obviously caught the unenthusiastic undertone.

“The fact remains that you don’t trust me, and I’m in a witness-protection program that prohibits me from seeing you.” Ryden exhaled loudly. “An added stigma, another permanent reminder of everything I’ve done.” She got up. “My only regret about this ludicrous period is that I met you during it. I wish you’d come along before I sold myself. I wish you could have met the real Ryden, the one incapable of lies and worth trusting.”

When Harper didn’t react, she walked the few steps to the house. “I’m going to take a shower and retire for the night. Thank you for the lovely day and evening.” She opened the door and turned to look at Harper, who was lost in thought, staring at the dying flames.

“It’s funny,” Ryden said, “how life can give us insight into our alternate future, as if to rub in our faces how much we screwed up at the crossroads.” Forlorn, she entered the house and shut the door to what could have been.

*

Harper moved mechanically as she extinguished the fire and gathered up the dessert plates and wineglasses. She couldn’t stand to see Ryden hurt, and she didn’t know how to deal with the finality of the situation. Whether Ryden was trustworthy or not was not for her to judge, since Harper barely knew her, but what she did know was that this woman had thrown herself forward to take a bullet.