Love in the Vineyard (The Tavonesi Series Book 7) (3 page)

“Taking a day off?” Coco asked with a wry smile as she and Amber flanked him.

“Assessing the acreage for the new vineyard.” It was partially true.

“Had you said yes, I’m sure the planet would’ve stopped revolving,” Coco said in a chiding tone.

“You look troubled,” Amber said.

Coco peered at him. “Where were you last night? We missed you at dinner.”

“I had feathers to smooth. Some of the local growers aren’t keen on the precedent I’m setting with having employees of the vineyard own shares in the business.”

“Too egalitarian?”

“No, it’s not that. For the most part, the local owners I’ve met are fair and community minded, not snobs. But involving workers in the profit of the business… That makes them nervous. Even Dante isn’t so sure about profit-sharing.”

Their brother Dante had returned from his tour of Australian wineries full of ideas and plans. But profit-sharing with employees hadn’t been one of them.

“And what does Papa think?” Amber asked.

“He has his usual wait-and-see attitude. Cautious. He insisted on two-year contracts with employees to start. If what we’re trying isn’t viable, we’ll pay out the shares and start over. But I
know
it’ll work. People always rise to a challenge and do their best when you trust in them.”

He caught Amber’s quick glance at Coco.

“What?”

“You
always
see the positive,” Amber said. “It’s times like this that I know I’m adopted. Doubting blood runs in my veins.”

He had doubts—he just didn’t want to admit to them. “This from a woman who risks her life to protect livelihoods in the villages of Uzbekistan? From what Dante tells me, you should be up for sainthood.”

“I just show them how to collect wild herbs in a sustainable way. But my efforts would be better spent if I could instruct them on ways to protect themselves from thieves.”

“It’s still hard for me to believe that licorice is a cash crop anyone would kill to get their hands on.”

“Licorice is used in nearly every Chinese medicinal formula, and China can’t get enough. That makes it the equivalent of herbal gold. And therefore dangerous.”

“You’ll never get me near it. I never liked licorice.”

Coco leaned out of her saddle and tapped his arm. “When you’re finished surveying the realm, come down to the studio.”

“You are
not
getting me to pose for your calendar project, Coco. Never.”

“Just for the prototype?” She shot him her most irresistible youngest-sister smile. “I need the practice.”

“And then join us for lunch,” Amber added. “I’m headed to Bulgaria tomorrow. I’d like to spend time with you before I go.”

“They grow licorice in Bulgaria?”

“Chamomile.”

“I can’t believe that chamomile is endangered.”

“Wild chamomile is. I’ll fill you in over lunch. After you strip down and pose for Coco.” Amber winked at Coco. “Race you.”

“I’m not posing. You’ll have to find a more willing subject than me,” he said into the dust kicked up when his sisters thundered down the hill.

He worried about each of his eight sisters, perhaps more than he should. But there was no way he was going to pose for Coco’s calendar, no matter how much money it might make for the women’s shelter Coco supported. The thought of posing half-naked for all the world to see made his skin crawl. His sisters had wild ideas and wilder dreams. But there were limits to sibling loyalty.

After checking on the progress of the shelving in the Casa’s new gift shop, Adrian headed up the path along the stream to the building that housed Coco’s studio and the apartments for her and Anastasia. A young man lugging full firefighting regalia was just exiting as Adrian reached the stairs to the porch. The man was all smiles. Evidently some men liked taking their clothes off in public.

The door to the studio was open, and bright lights at the top of poles lit the interior, particularly a makeshift locker set up in the middle of the room.

“There you are,” Coco said as she switched off one of the taller lights. “You missed the shoot. Did Tate pass you on your way up here?”

“He did.”

“He’s
perfect
. A bit shy, though. It took all my powers of persuasion to get him to take off his shirt. I’d never have been able to persuade him if I’d tried to shoot at the firehouse. He could be Mr. February.
You
could be Mr. March.”

“
No
is evidently not a word in your vast vocabulary,” Adrian said as firmly as he could without sounding harsh.

He glanced at the photos lining a counter along the side wall. All featured Tate stripped down, bare chested, glistening and smiling what could only be described as the California smile.

Coco peered over his shoulder. “Which pose do you like best?”

“I’m not your audience.”

“But you have an excellent eye.”

“Ask Zoe. She has the eye of an artist.”

Coco wrinkled her nose. “She and Cody are down at spring training. He’ll be catching for the season opener.”

“Boning up on your baseball facts?”

“Hard not to in this family,” Coco said with a laugh.

Adrian surveyed the photos. Coco was determined to have a full year’s worth of local men posing for her calendar, one for each month. He was determined not to be one of them.

“I prefer the shot where he has his helmet tucked under his arm,” he conceded.

“It’s good.” Coco held up a different print. “But this one with the coiled fire hose is more suggestive.”

“I hadn’t realized that was the criteria.”

Coco eyed him.

“You look tired, Adrian. Why do you push so hard when you don’t have to?”

“Why does anyone do anything? Why do
you
work at your art so hard? I see you sweating at finding locations, pulling together your crews—you’ve been focused for months on this calendar project.”

He knew Coco didn’t share his feeling of guilt, his sense of living with opportunity neither deserved nor earned. It was like being sentenced to constantly having to prove worthy of unearned good fortune. But Coco was driven by a desire to make a difference in the bigger world. They shared that drive if none other.

“Touché.” She pressed a finger to his heart. “And my work would be much easier if you and Alex cooperated. If you’d pose and get a few of your friends to agree to as well.” She stepped away from him and crossed her arms. “You scare me sometimes. I see that look in your eyes, Adrian. It’s like you wouldn’t exist without your project.”

“It’s not a project.”

“Okay, without what you’re doing here at the Casa, with the vineyard. But you need to lighten up, have some fun. Take a
break,
for goodness’ sake. You haven’t been on a date since you moved here from Rome. Sophia must’ve left some serious tread marks on you.”

“She’s in the long distant past.”

“Then why
don’t
you date?”

“I visited Blair Turling last month when I went to Southampton.”

Coco clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Blair is a man-eater and—”

“She’s a great polo player.”

“Six chukkers of polo does
not
qualify as a date.” She poked her finger to his heart again. “Let somebody through that wall of focus and determination. You’ll be old and lonely if you don’t, no matter what great endeavor you have going.”

“And what, may I ask, makes you so wise about all this in your young years? With all the men you’ve had in and out of your studio in the past few weeks, I’d think one of them might’ve caught your eye.”

For all her outward bravura and ease in social situations, Coco often seemed closed off, as if a deep loneliness had carved itself into her heart and refused to set her free. He knew the feeling. Inherited wealth such as theirs could make a person suspicious of the motives of would-be friends and lovers and force a retreat into detachment and caution. And being Italian expats, recently relocated to California, hadn’t made it easy to chart the unfamiliar social waters.

Coco laughed. “Oh, they
all
caught my eye—that’s why they’re in the studio, why I chose them to pose for the calendar. But that’s
business
, Adrian. You’re the one who always says don’t cross business and the bedroom.”

“I said that?”

“Unless a zombie had taken over your body. I overheard you telling that to Dante. I was fourteen at the time, but your advice stuck.”

“You always were a pesky eavesdropper.”

“Maybe spying runs in our blood.”

“What was wrong with Jake Ryder?” Their cousin Alex’s teammate had shown pointed interest in Coco, but she’d rebuffed his advances from the start.

“He’s a ladies’ man. Fun, but I’d never trust him.”

“We may suffer from the same affliction.”

“Do
not
rope me into your fantasy world. At least
I
admit I have trust issues. And Papa hiding the fact that he was a spy didn’t help any.”

Adrian stood and paced behind the towers of lights. “I wasn’t thinking about trust—we’re both looking for perfection.”

“I keep my quest for the perfect in the realm of my art.”

“Uh-huh.” He fingered proof pages for her calendar. “So this is all about art, is it? I thought it was to fund the homeless-women’s shelter?”

She snatched the pages from him. “I didn’t say you can’t try to make a difference. But you can’t just march in and change the way the world works.”

“I hope you’re wrong. I don’t want to believe that life is just the luck of the hand you’re dealt. I want this place, this endeavor, to be an opportunity—a place where people can pursue their interests and preferences, develop their talents—really belong to something. And make a good living, have a stake in the success of the business. Own a piece of their future.”

“You’re just—oh, I don’t know—you just seem
obsessed
.” She eyed him. “You can’t give your inheritance back, none of us can. But you don’t have to beat yourself up about it. You’re like some sort of questing knight, blinded by a mission. There’s
life
too. You used to know that. I miss my playful brother.”

He tilted his head and tried unsuccessfully to suppress his smile.

“What?”

“I was just wondering how my baby sister got so smart so fast.”

She swatted him with the sheaf of prints.

“Yo!” a voice called from the doorway. Their American cousin Parker strode into the room wearing riding gear and carrying a duffel bag. He surveyed Adrian. “Where are your riding togs?”

“I was just headed to my house to change,” Adrian said, switching to English. Parker spoke decent Italian, but Adrian knew he struggled with it. He nodded toward Coco. “This one distracted me from the time.”

Parker looked from him to Coco. “Am I interrupting a sibling squabble? I’m quite good at peacemaking.”

“You’re good at fanning the flames of drama,” Coco said. “I was telling Adrian that he needs to get out more. Go on a date. Get a life beyond Casa del Sole Vineyards.”

Parker shoved the duffel at him.

“What’s this?”

“Your costume for tonight. The masquerade to raise funds for the Boys and Girls Club. Eight o’clock sharp. You too, Coco.”

Adrian groaned. Coco shot him a mock glower.

“It’s a perfect occasion for you to meet the woman of your dreams,” Parker said with a grin.

“Except all
he
dreams about are vineyards and profit-sharing,” Coco added with a huff.

A wry smile curled into Parker’s lips. “Think of it as saving the world one party at a time.”

“Parties aren’t really my forte,” Adrian admitted.

“Well, it’s a full moon, lots of magic afoot and you can stay masked until midnight. You can
pretend
to be a party animal.”

Adrian took Parker’s ribbing in stride. His cousin had been a rock-solid friend to him and his siblings since they’d moved to Sonoma. He’d helped design the gift shop for the vineyard and the remodel of the tasting room. He’d stood by Zoe when she’d bucked their father’s plans and even helped her design the interior of her gallery in Rome.

“Play a hard game of polo this afternoon,” Parker added, “get the blood going, and then work your charm tonight. You do still have some charm in there somewhere, right?”

“Unlikely,” Adrian responded. “Charm is your realm, Parker. There wasn’t any left over for the rest of us.”

Parker laughed and nodded toward the duffel Adrian held. “I rented you the
Forces of Darkness
costume. All Black. Intimidating. No one will ever guess who you are. You’ll have a blast.”

Coco tapped the duffel. “This I have to see—my irrepressibly sunny brother masquerading as a shadow force? Could set a new trend in the family.”

A masquerade was the last thing Adrian was up for. He had a bad feeling about the whole damned event.

Chapter Three

NATASHA STASHED HER GARDENING gloves in the pocket of her jeans and followed Tammy, the lively woman who’d hired her on the spot that morning, down the path leading to the gift shop and the main offices of Casa del Sole Vineyards.