Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(46)

Maybe Natasha had never had the opportunity to pursue a dream, a passion. Hell, until he’d let the work at the Casa get under his skin, neither had he. In a flash of insight, he saw a path forward. One that might even make it possible to scale the inner walls Natasha kept strong and fortified, walls that he knew she’d once needed, maybe still did. And it could be a path that might allow him to be with her on the other side of those walls.

“It’s too bad Amber left today,” Adrian said, following the burst of insight that remembering his grandmother’s words had kindled. “She loved what you’re doing with the pollinator garden and she’s dying to talk plants with you.”

Natasha scooped up a forkful of Leonora’s rice. “You have room for far more native plants in the side gardens.” As she spoke, her face lit with the enthusiasm he loved. “In fact, given the size of your greenhouse, you could grow starts and sell them in the gift shop.” She waved her fork in a circle in the air and smiled. “Maybe even develop a wholesale native-plant business for the county.”

Her passion provided an opening for him to introduce his plan. But he had to go slowly. Let the vision take hold.

“I like it.” He spoke calmly in spite of the excitement firing in him.

Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Pardon?”

“I like your idea.”

“It’s a simple one, really.”

“Sometimes simple is best. Would you be interested in developing a project like that?” Already his mind was ticking off the steps needed to set her up to manage the new endeavor. But instead of pleasure and the spark of anticipation, he saw fear in her eyes.

She put her fork down and pushed her plate a few inches away on the low table.

“No. I like what I’m doing now.”

Maybe she was being humble. Though he hadn’t known her long, he felt a kindred spirit with her; they both navigated their lives with a driven intent. But he knew the signs; she was holding herself back. He just didn’t know why. Maybe he simply had to nudge the process along from behind the scenes. And though the idea took hold in his mind, her stiffened posture and guarded gaze told him it would be best to drop the subject of her work for now. Clearly it wasn’t a topic she wanted to discuss. He would wait for the right time. Such a time would come, he was sure of it.

He pointed to where the sun was setting on the horizon.

“See that plain that spreads from here along the north edge of town and then stretches out of sight?”

She shaded her eyes and peered out.

“That’s a coastal plain. Locals call it the Petaluma Gap. There’s no hill between here and the ocean, so the fog and wind roll in, and we get the vast temperature swings that make it possible to grow great Pinots here.”

He saw her shoulders soften. She began eating as she listened.

“I’m helping the local growers apply for their own appellation. I think the wines of this region deserve the distinction.”

She took in a breath. He was mesmerized by the rise and fall of her shoulders and the way she turned her face into the dimming light.

“The lack of a mountain barrier must be why the light here has the feel of coastal light. I noticed it as soon as I moved here.”

“Where were you living before?”

As fast as lightning, she closed up like a sea anemone retracting at the slightest touch. Evidently he’d hit on another unwelcome subject. Talking with Natasha was like navigating a field pocked with land mines. But he was up for the challenge.

Although she hadn’t finished her meal, she stood and gathered her plate and fork. “I’ll help you with the dishes.”

“I accept.”

He’d do anything to keep her with him longer. Including curbing his rampant curiosity and forgetting about the food on his plate.

Once back in the kitchen, he dragged the burned pan out of the sink. “This can’t be salvaged.”

“If you soak it, it can be. Look, the bottom hasn’t warped. It’ll be fine.”

He put the burned pan aside and then ran water into the small tub he kept in the other side of the sink.

“Why do you do that?”

“Rome suffered many droughts. It’s an old habit.”

“It’s a thoughtful habit.” The lines around her eyes softened with her smile.

The simple acts of domesticity didn’t dim the desire building in him. And if he was reading Natasha’s body correctly, from the way she tried not to touch him, not even brushing up against him, there was a tinder in her primed to ignite. A tinder he’d have to ignore for now. And for who knew how long before he could win her confidence.

He soaped up a sponge and scrubbed her plate. As he handed it to her to rinse, the plate slipped. By some miracle they both caught it, his hand under hers.

Adrenaline zinged in him, but not from his quick reaction. She’d kept her fingers twined with his as she’d taken the plate from him with her other hand. His pulse fired, pounded, when she set the plate in the sink. She closed her fingers in his more tightly and drew him to her. Her other hand went to his neck. He felt the soapy hot water drip down the back of his shirt when she pulled his head down, drawing his lips to meet hers.

He tried to hold back, to kiss her gently, to avoid sending her into recoil. But he’d wanted her too deeply, too much, and his rock-hard erection had robbed all the blood from his brain.