The Vineyards Of Calanetti
The kitchen light was on and as was their practice, Louisa had waited up for Dani. As soon as she stepped in the kitchen door, Louisa handed her a cup of tea. Dani glanced up at her, knowing the sheen of tears sparkled on her eyelashes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m going home.”
Louisa blinked. “I thought this was settled.”
“Nothing’s ever settled with Rafe.” She sucked in a breath. “The smart thing for me is to leave.”
“What about the restaurant, your job, your destiny?”
She fell to a seat. “He asked me to marry him.”
Louisa’s eyes widened. “How is that bad? My God, Dani, even I can see you love the guy.”
“I said no.”
“Oh, sweetie! Sweetie! You love the guy. How the hell could you say no?”
“I’ve been here four weeks, Louisa. Rafe is a confirmed bachelor and he asked me to marry him. The day before I’m supposed to go home. You do the math.”
“What math? You have a return ticket to the United States. He doesn’t want you to go.”
Dani slowly raised her eyes to meet Louisa’s. “Exactly. The proposal was a stopgap measure. He told me all about it when we talked about Paul asking me to marry him. He said Paul didn’t want to risk losing me, so the day before I left for Italy, he’d asked me to marry him.”
“And you think that’s what Rafe did?”
Her chin lifted. “You don’t?”
* * *
Rafe was seated at the bar on his third shot of whiskey when Emory ambled out into the dining room.
“What are you doing here?”
He presented the shot glass. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Emory frowned. “Getting drunk?”
Rafe saluted his correct answer.
“After a successful catering event that could have gone south, you’re drinking?”
“I asked Daniella to marry me. And do you know what she told me?”
Looking totally confused, Emory slid onto the stool beside Rafe. “Obviously, she said no.”
“She said no.”
Emory laughed. Rafe scowled at him. “Why do you think this is funny?”
“The look on your face is funny.”
“Thanks.”
“Come on, Rafe, you’ve known the girl a month.”
“So she doesn’t trust me?”
Emory laughed. “Look at you. Look at how you’ve treated her. Would you trust you?”
“Yeah, well, she’s leaving for New York tomorrow. I didn’t want her to go.”
Emory frowned. “Ah. So you asked her to marry you to keep her from going?”
“No. I asked her to marry me because I love her.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “But I’d also told her that her boyfriend had asked her to marry him the day before she left for Italy as a stopgap measure. Wanting to tie her to him, without giving her a real commitment, he’d asked. But he hadn’t really meant it. He just didn’t want her to go.”
Emory swatted him with a dish towel. “Why do you tell her these things?”
“At the time it made sense.”
“Yeah, well, now she thinks you only asked her to marry you to keep her from going back to New York.”
“No kidding.”
Emory swatted him again. “Get the hell over to Palazzo di Comparino and fix this!”
“How?”
Emory’s eyes narrowed. “You know what she wants...what she needs. Not just truth, proof. If you love her, and you’d better if you asked her to marry you, you have to give her proof.”
He jumped off the stool, grabbed Emory’s shoulders and noisily kissed the top of his head. “Yes. Yes! Proof! You are a hundred percent correct.”
“You just make sure she doesn’t get on that plane.”
* * *
Dani’s tears dried as she and Louisa packed her things. Neither one of them expected to sleep, so they spent the night talking. They talked of keeping in touch. Video chatting and texting made that much easier than it used to be. And Louisa had promised to come to New York. They would be thousands of miles apart but they would be close.
Around five in the morning, Dani shoved off her kitchen chair and sadly made her way to the shower. She dressed in her own old raggedy jeans and a worn sweater, the glamour of her life in Tuscany, and Louisa’s clothes behind her now.
When she came downstairs, Louisa had also dressed. She’d promised to take her to the airport and she’d gotten ready.
But there was an odd gleam in her eye when she said, “Shall we go?”
Dani sighed, knowing she’d miss this house but also realizing she’d found a friend who could be like a sister. The trip wasn’t an entire waste after all.
She smiled at Louisa. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
They got into the ugly green car and rather than let Dani drive, Louisa got behind the wheel.
“I thought you refused to drive until you understood Italy’s rules of the road better.”
Stepping on the gas, Louisa shrugged. “I’ve gotta learn some time.”
She drove them out of the vineyard and out of the village. Then the slow drive to Florence began. But even before they went a mile, Louisa turned down an old road.
“What are you doing?”
“I promised someone a favor.”
Dani frowned. “Do we have time?”
“Plenty of time. You’re fine.”
“I know I’m fine. It’s my flight I’m worried about.”
“I promise you. I will pull into the driveway and be pulling out two minutes later.”
Dani opened her mouth to answer but she snapped it closed when she realized they were at the old farmhouse Maria the real estate agent had shown her and Rafe. She faced Louisa. “Do you know the person who bought this?”
“Yes.” She popped open her door. “Come in with me.”
Dani pushed on her door. “I thought you said this would only take a minute.”
“I said two minutes. What I actually said was I promise I will be pulling out of this driveway two minutes after I pull in.”
Dani walked up the familiar path to the familiar door and sighed when it groaned as Louisa opened it. “Whoever bought this is in for about three years of renovations.”
Louisa laughed before she called out, “Hello. We’re here.”
Rafe stepped out from behind a crumbling wall. Dani skittered back. “Louisa! This is your friend?”
“I didn’t say he was my friend. I said I knew him.” Louisa gave Dani’s back a little shove. “He has some important things to say to you.”
“I bought this house for you,” Rafe said, not giving Dani a chance to reply to Louisa.
“I don’t want a house.”
He sighed. “Too bad. Because you now have a house.” He motioned her forward. “I see a big kitchen here. Something that smells like heaven.”
She stopped.
He motioned toward the huge room in the front. “And big, fat chairs that you can sink into in here.”
“Very funny.”
“I am not being funny. You,” he said, pointing at her, “want a home. I want you. Therefore, I give you a home.”
“What? Since a marriage proposal didn’t keep me, you offer me a house?”
“I didn’t say I was giving you a house. I said I was giving you a home.” He walked toward the kitchen. “And you’re going to marry me.”
She scrambled after him. “Exactly how do you expect to make that happen?”
She rounded the turn and walked right into him. He caught her arms and hauled her to him, kissing her. She made a token protest, but, honestly, this was the man she couldn’t resist.
He broke the kiss slowly, as if he didn’t ever want to have to stop kissing her. “That’s how I expect to make that happen.”
“You’re going to kiss me until I agree?”
“It’s an idea with merit. But it won’t be all kissing. We have a restaurant. You have a job. And there’s a bedroom back here.” He headed toward it.
Once again, she found herself running after him. Cold air leeched in from the window and she stopped dead in her tracks. “The window leaks.”
“Then you’re going to have to hire a general contractor.”
“Me?”
He straightened to his full six-foot-three height. “I am a master. I cook.”
“Oh, and I clean and make babies?”
He laughed. “We will hire someone to clean. Though I like the part about you making babies.”
Her heart about pounded its way out of her chest. “You want kids?”
He walked toward her slowly. “We want kids. We want all that stuff you said about fat chairs and good-smelling kitchens and turning the thermostat down so that we can snuggle.”
Her heart melted. “You don’t look like a snuggler.”
“I’ll talk you into doing more than snuggling.”
She laughed. Pieces of the ice around her heart began to melt. Her eyes clung to his. “You’re serious?”
“I wouldn’t have told Louisa to bring you here if I weren’t. I don’t do stupid things. I do impulsive things.” He grinned. “You might have to get used to that.”
She smiled. He motioned for her to come closer and when she did, he wrapped his arms around her.
“I could not bear to see you go.”
“You said Paul only asked me to marry him as a stopgap measure.”
“Yes, but Paul is an idiot. I am not.”
She laughed again and it felt so good that she paused to revel in it. To memorize the feeling of his arms around her. To glance around at their house.
“Oh, my God, this is a mess.”
“We’ll be fine.”
She laid her head on his chest and breathed in his scent. She counted to ten, waited for him to say something that would drive her away, then realized what she was really waiting for.
She glanced up at him. “I’m so afraid you’re going to hurt me.”
“I know. And I’m going to spend our entire lives proving to you that you have no need to worry.”
She laughed and sank against him again. “I love you.”
“After only four weeks?”
She peeked up again. “Yes.”
“So this time you’ll believe me when I say it.”
She swallowed. Years of fear faded away. “Yes.”
“Good.” He shifted back, just slightly, so he could pull a small jewelry box from the pocket of his jeans. He opened it and revealed a two-carat diamond. “I love you. So you will marry me?”
She gaped at the ring, then brought her gaze to his hopeful face. When he smiled, she hugged him fiercely. “Yes!”
He slipped the ring onto her finger. “Now, weren’t we on our way back to the bedroom?”
“For what? There’s no bed back there.”
He said, “Oh, you of no imagination. I have a hundred ways around that.”
“A hundred, isn’t that a bit ambitious?”
“Get used to it. I am a master, remember?”
“Yeah, you are,” she said, and then she laughed. She was getting married, going to make babies...going to make a home—in Italy.
With the man of her dreams.
Because finally, finally she was allowed to have dreams.
* * * * *
The Vineyards of Calanetti
Saying “I do” under the Tuscan sun…
Deep in the Tuscan countryside nestles the picturesque village of Monte Calanetti. Famed for its world-renowned vineyards, the village is also home to the crumbling but beautiful Palazzo di Comparino. Empty for months, rumors of a new owner are spreading like wildfire … and that’s before the village is chosen as the setting for the royal wedding of the year!
It’s going to be a roller coaster of a year, but will wedding bells ring out in Monte Calanetti for anyone else?
Find out in this fabulously heartwarming, uplifting and thrillingly romantic new eight-book continuity from the Mills & Boon® Cherish™ series!
A Bride for the Italian Boss by Susan Meier
Return of the Italian Tycoon by Jennifer Faye
Reunited by a Baby Secret by Michelle Douglas
Soldier, Hero … Husband? by Cara Colter
His Lost-and-Found Bride by Scarlet Wilson
The Best Man & the Wedding Planner by Teresa Carpenter
His Princess of Convenience by Rebecca Winters
Saved by the CEO by Barbara Wallace
Award-winning author JENNIFER FAYE pens fun, heartwarming romances. Jennifer has won the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award, is a Top Pick author and has been nominated for numerous awards. Now living her dream, she resides with her patient husband, one amazing daughter (the other remarkable daughter is off chasing her own dreams) and two spoiled cats. She’d love to hear from you via her website, www.jenniferfaye.com.
To Michelle Styles, an amazing friend, who taught me so much, including that the important part of writing was what I decided to do after the dreaded “R”. Thank you!
CHAPTER ONE
“CAN I SMELL YOU?”
Kayla Hill’s fingers struck the wrong keys on her computer. Surely she hadn’t heard her boss correctly—her very serious, very handsome boss. “Excuse me. What did you say?”
Angelo Amatucci’s tanned face creased with lines as though he were deep in thought. “Are you wearing perfume?”
“Uh...yes, I am.”
“Good. That will be helpful. May I have a smell?”
Helpful? With what? She gave up on answering an email and turned her full attention to her boss, who moved to stand next to her. What in the world had prompted him to ask such a question? Was her perfume bothering him? She sure hoped not. She wore it all the time. If he didn’t like it or was allergic to it, she thought he’d have mentioned it before now.
Kayla craned her neck, allowing her gaze to travel up over his fit body, all six-foot-plus of muscle, until she met his inquisitive eyes. “I’m sorry but I...I don’t understand.”
“I just finished speaking with Victoria Van Holsen, owner of Moonshadows Cosmetics. She has decided that her latest fragrance campaign, even though she painstakingly approved it each step of the way, just won’t do.”
“She doesn’t want it?” Kayla failed to keep the astonishment out of her voice.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “She insists we present her with a totally new proposal.”
“But this is a Christmas campaign. Everything should be finalized, considering it’s already March.” Then, realizing that she was speaking to a man with far more experience, she pressed her lips together, silencing her rambling thoughts.
“Now that information about her competitor’s upcoming holiday campaign has been leaked, she wants something more noteworthy—something that will go viral.”
“I thought the campaign was unique. I really like it.” Kayla truly meant it. She wasn’t trying to butter up her boss—that was just an unexpected bonus.
“The fact of the matter is, Victoria Van Holsen is a household name and one of our most important clients. Our duty is to keep her happy.”
It was the company’s motto—the client’s needs come first. No matter what. And if Kayla was ever going to rise up the chain from her temporary detour as the personal assistant to the CEO of Amatucci & Associates Advertising to her dream job as an ad executive on Madison Avenue, she could never forget that the clients were always right. It didn’t matter how unreasonable or outrageous their requests might be at times, keeping them happy was of the utmost importance.
“How can I help?”
“Stand up.”
His face was devoid of emotion, giving no hint of his thoughts.
She did as he asked. Her heart fluttered as he circled her. When he stopped behind her and leaned in close, an army of goose bumps rose on her skin. Her eyes drifted closed as a gentle sigh slipped across her lips. Angelo Amatucci truly did want an up close and personal whiff of her perfume.
He didn’t so much as touch a single hair on her, but she could sense him near her neck. Her pulse raced. If this most unusual request had come from anyone else, she’d swear they were hitting on her. But as Mr. Amatucci stepped to the front of her, his indifferent expression hadn’t changed. Her frantic heart rate dipped back to normal.
There had never been any attempt on his part to flirt with her. Though his actions at times could be quite unpredictable, they were always ingenuous. She deduced that his sudden curiosity about her perfume had something to do with the Van Holsen account. But what could he be thinking? Because there was no way she was wearing a Moonshadows fragrance. One ounce of the stuff would set her back an entire paycheck.
“It seems to have faded away.” A frown tugged at his lips.
“Perhaps this will be better.” She pulled up the sleeve of her blue suit jacket and the pink blouse beneath it before holding out her wrist to him. “Try this.”
His hand was warm and his fingers gentle as he lifted her hand to his face. Her heart resumed its frantic tap dancing in her chest. Tip-tap. Tip-tap. She wished it wouldn’t do that. He was, after all, her boss—the man who held her career aspirations in the palm of his very powerful hand. A man who was much too serious for her.
Still, she couldn’t dismiss that his short dark wavy hair with a few silver strands at the temples framed a very handsome, chiseled face. His dark brown eyes closed as he inhaled the fragrance, and she noticed his dark lashes as they swept down, hiding his mesmerizing eyes. It was a wonder some woman hadn’t snatched him up—not that Kayla had any thoughts in that direction.
She had narrowly escaped the bondage of marriage to a really nice guy, who even came with her Mom’s and Dad’s stamp of approval. Though the breakup had been hard, it had been the right decision for both of them. Steven had wanted a traditional wife who was content to cook, clean and raise a large family. Not that there was anything wrong with that vision. It just wasn’t what she envisioned for her future. She wanted to get out of Nowhereville, USA, and find her future in New York City.
When Mr. Amatucci released her arm, she could still feel warmth where his fingers had once been. Her pulse continued to race. She didn’t know why she was having this reaction. She wasn’t about to jeopardize her rising career for some ridiculous crush on her boss, especially when it was perfectly obvious that he didn’t feel a thing for her.
His gaze met hers. “Is that the only perfume you wear?”
She nodded. “It’s my favorite.”
“Could I convince you to wear another fragrance?”
He was using her as a test market? Interesting. She could tell him what he wanted to hear, but how would that help him develop a new marketing strategy? She decided to take her chances and give him honest answers.
“Why would I change when I’ve been using this same perfume for years?”
He rubbed his neck as she’d seen him do numerous times in the past when he was contemplating new ideas for big accounts. And the Van Holsen account was a very big account. The fact that the client had the money to toss aside a fully formulated ad campaign and start over from scratch was proof of their deep pockets.
Mr. Amatucci’s gaze was still on her, but she couldn’t tell if he was lost in thought. “How long have you worn that fragrance?”
“Since I was a teenager.” She remembered picking out the flower-shaped bottle from a department store counter. It was right before her first ever school dance. She’d worn it for every special occasion since, including her first date with Steven. And then there was her high school graduation followed by her college commencement. She’d worn it for all the big moments in her life. Even the day she’d packed her bags and moved to New York City in search of her dreams.
“Talk to me.” Mr. Amatucci’s voice cut through her memories. “What were you thinking about just now?”
She glanced hesitantly at him. In all of the weeks she’d worked as his PA, they’d never ventured into a conversation that was the slightest bit personal. Their talks had always centered around business. Now, he’d probably think she was silly or sentimental or both.
“I was thinking about all the times in my life when I wore this perfume.”
“And?”
“And I wore it for every major event. My first date. My first kiss. My—” A sharp look from him silenced her.
“So your attachment to the fragrance goes beyond the scent itself. It is a sentimental attachment, right?”
She shrugged. “I guess so.”
She’d never thought of it that way. In fact, she’d never given her perfume this much thought. If the bottle got low, she put it on her shopping list, but that’s as far as her thoughts ever went.
“So if our client doesn’t want to go with a sparkly, feel-fabulous-when-you-wear-this campaign, we can try a more glamorous sentimental approach. Thanks to you, we now have a new strategy.”
She loved watching creativity in action. And she loved being a part of the creative process. “Glad I could help.”
He started to walk away, then he paused and turned back. “You were just promoted to a copywriter position before you took this temporary assignment as my PA, right?”
She nodded. What better way to get noticed than to work directly for one of the biggest names in the advertising industry.
“Good. You aren’t done with this project. I want you to dig into those memories and write out some ideas—”
“But don’t you have a creative team for this account?” She wanted to kick herself for blurting out her thoughts.
Mr. Amatucci sent her a narrowed look. His cool, professional tone remained unchanged. “Are you saying you aren’t interested in working on the project?”
Before she could find the words to express her enthusiasm, his phone rang and he turned away. She struggled to contain her excitement. This was her big opening and she fully intended to make the most of it.
This was going to work out perfectly.
A smile tugged at Kayla lips. She’d finally made it. Though people thought she’d made a big mistake by taking a step backward to assume a temporary position as Mr. Amatucci’s PA, it was actually working out just as she’d envisioned.
She’d gone after what she wanted and she’d gotten it. Well, not exactly, but she was well on her way to making her dreams a reality. With a little more patience and a lot of hard work, she’d become an account executive on New York’s famous Madison Avenue in the exclusive advertising agency of Amatucci & Associates.
Her fingers glided over the keyboard of her computer as she completed the email to the creative department about another of their Christmas campaigns. Sure it was only March, but in the marketing world, they were working months into the future. And with a late-season snowstorm swirling about outside, it seemed sort of fitting to be working on a holiday project.
She glanced off to the side of her computer monitor, noticing her boss holding the phone to his ear as he faced a wall of windows overlooking downtown Manhattan. Being on the twenty-third floor, they normally had a great view of the city, but not today. What she wouldn’t give to be someplace sunny—far, far away from the snow. After months of frigid temperatures and icy sidewalks, she was most definitely ready for springtime.
“Have you started that list?” Mr. Amatucci’s piercing brown gaze met hers.
Um—she’d been lost in her thoughts and hadn’t even realized he’d wrapped up his phone call. Her gaze moved from his tanned face to her monitor. “Not yet. I need to finish one more email. It shouldn’t take me long. I think your ideas for the account are spot-on. Just wait until the client lays her eyes on the mock-ups.”
Then, realizing she was rambling, she pressed her lips firmly together. There was just something about being around him that filled her with nervous energy. And his long stretches of silence had her rushing to fill in the silent gaps.
Mr. Amatucci looked as though he was about to say something, but his phone rang again. All eyes moved to his desk. The ringtone was different. It must be his private line. In all the time she’d been working for him, it had never rung.
It rang again and yet all he did was stare at the phone.
“Do you want me to get it?” Kayla offered, not sure what the problem was or why Mr. Amatucci was hesitant. “I really don’t mind.”