Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(28)

“Exactly. And are you two baseball players?”

“He’s our pitcher,” Tyler said. “I play right field.”

“Well then, these invitations are for you. One of the local vineyards is sponsoring a pickup game. They could use a couple of additional players.” She leaned down again. “I have it on good authority that there will be at least two real live Major League players there,” she said conspiratorially. She handed Tyler and Brandon sheets of paper. Then she slipped three crisp hundred-dollar bills from her wallet and handed them to Natasha. “One extra. In case the math doesn’t turn out right.”

She flashed a dazzling smile that made both boys blush and headed back the way she had come.

“Who was that?” Monica asked.

Mary shrugged. “Oh, she’s active in the community. A philanthropist.”

Monica drew her brows together. “I thought I knew most of the local philanthropists.”

Natasha stared at the retreating woman. If they’d asked her, she would’ve said they’d had a visit from the Sugar Plum Fairy.





Chapter Nine



NATASHA SAT BACK ON HER HEELS AND admired her work. She’d put in two hundred onion starts that now marched in carefully irrigated rows down the sides and middle of the raised garden bed.

The gate creaked, and she looked up to see Tammy walk through it juggling three gallon-sized containers with plants sprouting out of them.

“These are for the pollinator garden,” she said as she set them down in the shade of the kitchen wall. “The rest of the plants will be delivered tomorrow. One of the crew will dig the holes for you next week.”

“I didn’t know we were putting in a new garden.”

“Whim of the owner,” Tammy said with a shrug. “Lots of the vintners around here are putting them in. Good for the grapes and all that.” She glanced at the plants. “It’ll be pretty. And I love butterflies.” She jerked her head toward the gate. “Want to come over and watch the polo game with me? It’s a women’s match.”

“I’ll have to catch the next one. I’m leaving a few minutes early.” She flashed a smile. “I’m going on a date this evening and need some time to get ready.”

“Brava,” Tammy said. “Where?”

“It’s a surprise. But my date said to wear a cocktail dress.”

“Why can’t I find guys like that? I end up with the jeans-and-cowboy-boots dudes. Not that I don’t like a cowboy now and then, but a girl likes to dress up. They don’t get that. Do you have a great dress?”

Natasha nodded. “Pretty great. Simple. Black.”

“Black works anywhere.”

Mary had gone with Natasha to the thrift shop to help her pick out the dress. She’d been lucky. The black lace sheath they’d found at the back of one of the sale racks was lovely but not too over the top. And the four-dollar price tag was right. And for three dollars she’d found a pair of strappy heeled sandals, black with a little strip of rhinestones across the instep. Mary had loaned her a black wool wrap.

Tammy headed for the gate. “The polo match starts in ten minutes. I like the opening ceremonies for these official matches, all the anthems playing and such. The Haitian team is playing against the American team today. Although calling the team American is odd since two of the players are Italian and the horses are from Argentina. Go figure.”





Natasha toyed nervously with the shawl that Mary had loaned her. She felt ridiculously out of place sitting at an outdoor table at the Rock Wren Café in her fancy sandals and skimpy dress. A limo pulled up in front of the café, and Natasha gawked along with the rest of the evening customers. When Adrian stepped out of the long black car, she was sure they’d all see the flame of her hot blush as it crept up her cheeks.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “We’ll make up for it.”

He held the door for her, and she slipped across the smooth leather seat. All the way to the other side. She needed a minute to get her bearings; she’d never been in a limo.

He lifted a green bottle from a silver ice bucket. “Champagne?”

She might as well. “Yes, thank you.” When in Rome… The phrase taunted her as the bubbles tickled down her throat.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.” She wasn’t accustomed to compliments. “San Francisco is that way.” Natasha pointed when the limo driver made the wrong turn onto the freeway.

“I hope you don’t mind, but we’re going to see the Bolshoi ballet. In LA. We’ll be flying.”

“Flying?”

“You don’t have a fear of flying, do you?”

She didn’t want to admit she’d never been on a plane.

“No. But isn’t the airport that way too?”

“A friend of mine loaned me his jet. And his limo. And his pilot,” he added rather quickly, as if he feared she might be afraid of his flying skills.

“I have to work tomorrow,” she stammered, considering the implications of flying to LA. Did he mean for her to spend the night with him? She wasn’t ready for that. Might never be.

He laughed. “I’ll have you back here by midnight. Or by one in the morning at the latest.”