Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(11)

Maybe his lack of sleep had affected him more than he’d realized. He’d played a mighty poor six chukkers of polo that afternoon. Or maybe the stress of dealing with the local growers yesterday had set him off his game and muddled his mind. Although why the local vintners couldn’t grasp that having employees prosper was good for business was beyond him. One irate vintner had gone so far as to accuse him of being the Karl Marx of wine country. If Coco hadn’t been at the meeting and used her sisterly influence to keep him in his seat and remind him to tamp down his temper, he might’ve said something he’d have regretted.

Whatever the cause of his oddly altered state, he’d better ratchet back to reality before he made a total fool of himself.

Just as he was about to pull his arm back, Tasha laughed and put her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“And how am I to know you aren’t one of them?” Her eyes glittered in the soft light. “A wolf in costume, I mean.”

“I can assure you that he’s far from it.”

Adrian heard the mirth in Coco’s voice as she approached from behind. She circled and then waved the wand she held in their direction. “I do love eavesdropping; you hear the most preposterous things.” She looked at her wand and then at Adrian. “Do you think this thing works? Because if it does, I could cause all sorts of trouble.”

Adrian couldn’t miss the twinkle in Coco’s eyes. The fairy costume suited his mischievous sister perfectly.

Tasha took in Coco and her frothy, low-cut costume. She pulled her hand from his arm, so gently that the movement was almost a whisper. But it was clearly a retreat in the face of Coco’s antics. Adrian suddenly felt the need to put Tasha at ease.

“This is my—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Coco wagged a finger and interrupted him. “Thousand-dollar fine if you give identity hints. And I will tell on you.” She smiled at Natasha and tilted her head toward Adrian. “This one’s always been horrible at following the rules of games. Despicable, really.” With a last sly smile, she disappeared into the crowd.

“She’s lovely.”

“Yes,” Adrian admitted. “And there’s a string of other descriptives that can be applied to her.”

Like meddlesome and unstoppable.

“We were headed for the buffet before the fairy of the land interrupted us,” he said. “I can promise you the food will be delicious. Parker hired the best caterer in the Bay Area. He always does.”

“Well,” Tasha said, “when in Rome…” Her lips turned up in an uncertain smile.

“I’ve heard that phrase often since my first visit to the States, but I’m never sure what it means,” Adrian said, hoping to draw her out with conversation. He liked the sound of her voice, clear and yet rich and throaty. But more than that, he wanted to know more about her.

“It means…” She hesitated and waved one of her hands through the air.

She had graceful hands, lovely arms. And she moved as if she should be the one holding a magic wand.

“I never really thought about it before,” she added, knitting her brows.

Her intense expression dragged Adrian back from his admiration of her beauty.

“I suppose it means go with the flow,” she said. “Or something like that.”

“Then flow it is. After we sample Parker’s fare, I’d like to claim a dance. That is, if I may.”

“I don’t dance, I—”

“One dance. If I step on your toes, you can flee. And I promise not to stalk you.”

She stiffened. Something had made this woman very, very skittish. If he wanted to know her better, he’d better take it slow.

They filled their plates and sat at a table with two vacant places. Surrounded by strangers, Adrian felt vaguely uneasy. It wasn’t the costumes. After years in Venice with his grandmother’s family, he’d grown accustomed to being surrounded by carnivale partiers dressed to the nines. What bothered him was that he recognized no one’s voice.

For the first time in ages a sense of loneliness crept through him, nibbling its way into his gut. He had his family around, to be sure, but he’d left close friends behind in Rome, friends he’d had for a lifetime. Setting up Casa del Sole and seeing to its success had kept him busy, but the work didn’t fill the hole that yawned in his quieter hours. Maybe Coco was right. Maybe he did need to get out more.

He turned to Tasha. Following Parker’s rules for anonymity proved harder than he’d imagined. There was little he could discuss that wouldn’t provide identity clues. And unlike the others cavorting around the table, he wasn’t in any mood to pretend he was someone other than who he was.

But as he looked at Tasha, an idea popped into his mind. If they spent time together without sharing their full identities—if she didn’t know who he was and it turned out that she liked him—he’d know that she liked him for himself. Not as an heir to the Tavonesi fortune or for his family’s aristocratic roots, but just for himself.

Beside him, Tasha quietly ate her meal, observing the others as they chattered and laughed.

He picked at his food. Although delicious, the roasted salmon and saffron-laced rice held little appeal. He glanced at Tasha, who listened patiently to a man in a polar bear costume who had obviously had too much to drink.