Can't Hurry Love (4 page)

“You just looked a little . . . stressed after that break you took earlier.”

That break when she’d been confronted by Liam and his offer of friendship. God, for a moment she’d been seduced by the possibility. There he was, tan, golden-haired, and gorgeous, and she’d imagined confessing to him all that had been whirling around in her head—her dilemma, her conflicts, her choices. For a second she’d actually believed it could be as it was before Tuscany. That it could be like it was when they were kids. After her mother had died, he’d been her rock.

But then he’d touched her. Just a simple graze of fingertips to flesh and she’d experienced a yearning that pierced both bone and heart. Getting close to him again, she’d realized, would only shatter her.

She glanced over, noting that Grace was still studying her with concern. Panic added kindling to that burn in her belly. She couldn’t afford to have people speculating on her moods, not when she just had to get through the next few weeks. “I’m in a perfectly great place,” she assured the young woman. “What about you? Is Mari treating you all right?”

“You didn’t look well even before you went into the vineyard,” Grace said. “You can’t be comfortable sleeping on that love seat in your office.
You
should stay at Mari’s, and I—”

“No!” Giuliana said again. Kohl’s sister could ferret secrets from a stump. “I just have to remember to turn off the ringer on the winery phone. Someone kept calling last night and hanging up.”

Grace shook her head. “Really, Giuliana. You should stay with Allie and Stevie. I’m surprised they don’t insist.”

“I’m the big sister.” Giuliana smiled. “What I say goes.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Giuliana remembered Grace hadn’t grown up with anyone besides her odd and often bad-tempered father. “It seems like I was always looking after my little sisters. After my mother died, I considered myself in charge of them.”
And I did okay, Mom, didn’t I? I know I stayed away from Edenville, but we did more than Disneyland together over the years when I lived in Southern California.
“And now they’re happily married to two good men.”

Grace ducked her head, her dust cloth running busily over a selection of different wineglasses.

After her own bruising marriage, Grace was likely as leery of any male animal as Giuliana was of Liam. How bad had her husband been? “Grace—”

A crash from outside the tasting room had them both whirling around. At the sound of Kohl’s cursing voice, Grace jumped. Her eyes went wide as he clomped into the room.

“Who left the—” He broke off, his gaze focused on Giuliana’s face. “Are you okay?”

She frowned at him. “Why are you asking me that? You should direct your question to Grace. Your stomping and swearing had her jumping out of her skin.”

He glanced at the helper, looking a little ashamed. But though he quieted his voice, he stalked toward Giuliana. “You look like hell.”

Another swig of coffee went down like battery acid. “I need to take a run into town and pick up some more makeup,” she said. “Allie lent me her stuff but clearly I need additional help.”

Kohl grabbed the mug from her hand. “What you don’t need is more caffeine,” he said, heading for the sink behind the bar.

Grace shrank against the shelves as he passed by. Her eyes didn’t leave his massive form. “He wouldn’t hurt you,” Giuliana whispered in assurance.

“I know.” Grace didn’t take her eyes off him as she whispered back. “He wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

Hmm,
Giuliana thought. Most people kept their distance from Kohl because of his brawler reputation and his big size.
I wonder
—but the idea was lost as Kohl returned to her side.

With a hand under her chin, he lifted her face. “You need new scenery. A good meal. Go out with me tonight.”

She hesitated. Off the top of her head, she could think of half a dozen reasons to nip Kohl’s interest in the bud. Since she’d returned to Edenville, though, he’d been the one to nurse her New Year’s Eve hangover, the one to play buffer between herself and Liam, the one who could make her smile when she was swamped by distressing financial news. “Kohl . . .”

“Go with me,” he insisted.

“Go with you where?” Liam asked, as he strolled into the tasting room.

Giuliana nearly groaned aloud. The three of them had been playing out this scene over and over for months. She’d be minding her own business only to discover herself once again the muddle in the middle of the rough-cut rogue and the sleek and sophisticated society guy. Alonzo, Anne, and the original Liam had worked through this same script themselves a hundred years before, and sometimes she wondered if the Baci land really
was
haunted. Maybe their modern-day struggle was being forced on them by specters bent upon reliving that old romantic triangle.

“This is none of your business, Bennett,” Kohl ground out.

Liam slid his hands in his pockets as his mouth curved in a smile that held no warmth. “You’d be surprised.”

“Not now,” she warned them both. She turned back to her bucket and sponge. “We open in a couple of hours and I need to finish up here.”

“Just say you’ll let me take you to dinner later and I’ll get out of your way,” Kohl said, moving close again.

Giuliana felt Liam’s gaze on the back of her neck. “I’m cleaning out the files in my office tonight.”

“You hear that, Friday?” Liam drawled. “Surely you know what it means when a woman says she has to stay home to clean her files. She might as well say she needs the night off to wash her hair.”

Giuliana shot him a glare over her shoulder. “I’m really cleaning out the files in my office tonight.” Piece by piece, she was putting the business end of the winery to rights. By the end of the Vow-Over Weekend, she’d have everything in order.

Liam’s gaze suddenly narrowed. “Are you okay?”

With a frustrated grunt, she threw the sponge into the bucket. “What do I have to do? Take out an ad?” Then she stopped herself, wary of protesting too much. “What are you doing back here anyway, Liam?” Surely he didn’t want to start up with the friendship thing again. The fire in her stomach flared.

He shrugged. “Jack called and said to meet him in the tasting room.”

“Well, he isn’t here—”

Well, he still wasn’t, but Allie and Penn entered. “I’m telling you,” her youngest sister was saying to her husband. “I’ve looked everywhere and can’t find my watch. The one that was my mother’s.”

“I haven’t seen it,” Penn said. As he so often did, he had his fingers tangled in Allie’s long hair, as if he couldn’t help but keep her close.

The memory of Liam’s hand on her rose again, but Giuliana pushed it back down. “I haven’t seen your watch, either. Why are you here?” she said to her sister. “You could have just called and asked.”

Allie glanced over, then stared. “Are you okay?”

“I’m strangling the next person who asks me that.”

“It’s just that—”

“On top of the medicine cabinet,” Grace piped up. “In the washroom adjacent to the winery’s reception area. Have you looked for it there?”

Giuliana sent Grace a grateful look as Allie’s attention shifted. “You’re right. I remember I took it off when I washed my hands.” As she turned, she called over her shoulder, “Don’t let Stevie say anything until I get back.”

“Stevie?”

“She told Penn and I to meet her here,” her younger sister said.

“But . . . why?”

Nobody had the answer, it seemed, and there was no time for speculation. In a few short minutes, Allie was back, standing beside Penn, happy to be reunited with her heirloom. Then Stevie walked into the room with Jack, their hands entwined.

If you asked Giuliana, it was the middle Baci sister that everyone should be worried about. Her usually sun-kissed complexion was pale and she was casting nervous looks around the room. “You’re all here,” she said.

Grace put down her dust cloth. “This looks like a private—”

“No.” Stevie waved off the concern. “Stay. It’s time I told everyone.” Then her gaze found Giuliana’s. “It’s time I told you.”

It’s time I told you.
Giuliana froze, those words sinking like stones into her consciousness. Her mind moved back in time. Instead of the winery’s tasting room, she was in her parents’ bedroom, sitting on her parents’ bed, her mother’s hand thin and cold in hers. Elena Baci had been propped up by pillows and covered by a quilted cotton throw stained by the strawberry jam that Stevie had spilled that morning when she’d delivered a breakfast tray. As Elena traced it, Giuliana saw that it was shaped like a ragged heart.
You’ll have to take good care of your sisters for me,
she’d said to her oldest daughter
. Don’t worry, you’ll be a wonderful mother.

It was a chilly sixty degrees in the wine caves, but she hadn’t noticed the cold while scrubbing the refrigerator. Now it seeped into the pores of her skin and slowed the flow of the blood through her veins. Only her belly burned as she pulled away from the past and stared at her middle sister.
Oh, God,
she thought, her mouth soundlessly repeating the words.
I can’t lose anyone else.

Stevie cleared her throat. “I have some news.”

Jack slipped his arm around his wife. Giuliana didn’t look at him, afraid what she might see on his face. She averted her gaze from everyone, her eyes on the rubber of her thongs and the dusting of reddish Baci dirt that stuck to them, just like the old pain and sadness had adhered to the surface of her heart.

“Jules,” Stevie said. “Look at me.”

She obeyed her sister, even as she remembered.
Jules
, her mother had said.
I’m dying.

Her sister smiled. “I’m going to have a baby.”

Giuliana’s cold skin flooded with heat. Her head spun. Black dots swam into her vision.

She saw Stevie start forward. “Are you okay?”

That question! “Of course . . .” She wasn’t, she realized, as arms closed around her and the room went dark.

4

Frustration rose within Kohl Friday, enough that he would have thrown a punch if there was a convenient target. But he was standing in the Tanti Baci tasting room, with its bottles of wine, rows of glassware, and decanters of olive oil. As much as he wanted to vent, he wouldn’t take pleasure in the mess he’d make.

And then there was Grace Hatch. He wouldn’t take pleasure in scaring her, either.

He strode over to pick up the sponge that Giuliana had been using to clean the refrigerator before she’d gone into a near-faint and been carried off by her family. And Liam.

Yeah. Liam. Warm water dribbled down Kohl’s wrist as he squeezed the sodden material in his hand—his action a pitiful substitute for the strangling his temper called for. He glared at the fridge’s white interior walls as if they were the cause of his piss-poor mood.

“I can finish that up,” Grace said.

He switched his stare to her. She was gazing at him out of big, wary eyes. Their blue was almost startling, a bright contrast to the soft reddish blond of her short wavy hair that matched the color of the freckles sprinkled over her creamy skin. When she’d first started working at Tanti Baci, there’d been bruises on her—fresh purple ones, fading green ones, the sick yellow that spoke volumes. The five distinct finger marks ringing her upper arm had been nearly black.

The color of the rage that too often bubbled inside Kohl.

Fuck.

Ignoring the little rabbit in the room, he started scrubbing. He hadn’t intended to finish the task, but what the hell. It was too early to hit a bar and start drinking.

Grace began dusting the shelves again. “She’s going to be all right,” she ventured after a silent moment. “It’s just that she hasn’t been sleeping well. Or eating.”

Kohl grunted. As if he didn’t know! He should have dragged Giuliana away for a meal before her sister had a chance to tell her about the baby. Instead of celebrating with Stevie, she’d slumped right into the arms of that rich, overprivileged asshole, Liam Bennett.

“Do you have any cigarettes?” Kohl barked out.

Grace’s eyes widened. “I don’t smoke.”

He hadn’t, either, not for a long time, but he thought he might have taken it up again. The morning after the fire, he’d woken to find matches in his pocket, though he didn’t actually remember lighting up. He didn’t actually remember hours of that night—the time between his first few drinks at one bar until the news of the apartment burning had roused him from a stupor on his stool at another. He’d slapped himself two-thirds sober, then called for cab, downing Dentyne to alleviate the stink of booze clinging to him.

When he’d first left the army and returned to Edenville, he’d spent a lot of lost evenings with his best bud, José Cuervo. It didn’t happen nearly as often now, but he still couldn’t claim saint status.

He’d been trying, though, for Jules.

Fuck.

Angry all over again, he heaved the sponge. It landed on the fridge’s back wall with a loud
splat
.

A bleat reminded him of the little rabbit. Guilt pinched and he swung toward her, ready to apologize for scaring the bejeezus out of her. But she was focused on her work, deftly arranging the items displayed for sale. His gaze narrowed on her hands. They weren’t trembling, he was glad to note, but still he didn’t look away. How pretty they were, he thought, covered with those same freckles that stood out like cinnamon-sugar snowflakes on her face.

He wondered if they tasted sweet.

She bleated again and he started, embarrassed he might have said that thought aloud. But she was staring down at her forefinger. A drop of blood welled there.

His feet rushed forward. He halted as he reached her, aware that his mere size spooked some women—not to mention his temperament. “Are you all right?”

“It’s nothing.” She darted him a nervous glance. “I caught it on the edge of this tin of tea.”

He eased back a step. “Are you up to date on your tetanus shots?”

Her face flushed. “Yes.”

They would have made sure of that at the hospital. He’d known she’d gone there after her ex’s last beating. Another spurt of wrath shot through him, and it felt as if a strap was tightening around his chest. It only cinched harder as she brought that slim, cinnamon-dusted hand up to insert the injured digit in her mouth. Sucked.

Lust shot through him, heat arrowing toward his cock. It immediately thickened. “You shouldn’t do that,” he told the girl, fascinated by the sight. His voice was gruff.
Christ!
This poor little thing was likely terrified of men and he was stuck on Jules, yet still he reacted just like an animal. Only a beast would let his temper and his hungers get the best of him like this . . .

In those hours he couldn’t account for, he only hoped they hadn’t.

Grace wound a paper towel around her injured finger. “Your sister is very nice,” she said, making him suppose she couldn’t hear his heavy breathing. “I appreciate her letting me stay.”

“Her place is small, but I don’t think she’s ever there.”

“She dates a lot?”

A short laugh escaped him. “A lot doesn’t cover—” A thought shut him up. “She wouldn’t bring anyone home when you’re there,” he assured her.

“Anyone?”

“A man,” he clarified.

Her face colored again. “I don’t think all males are villains.”

No, only the ones who should have taken care of her, starting with her father. “No one could—”

“You saved Chester,” she suddenly said.

He blinked. “Chester?”

“Our dog. My dad had him tied up to a tree in the yard. He would get himself all tangled, no matter how many times I tried to unknot the rope. Then he’d be stuck in the dirt, unable to reach his bowl of water.”

“Jerry,” Kohl said, the memory rushing to him. He’d been a loner by choice, but it had killed him to see that scruffy, dirty animal on its own, day after day. “We called him Jerry Garcia—you know, after the guitarist in the Grateful Dead.”

At her puzzled expression, he laughed. “You’ll have to meet my father and mother someday.”

Pink rushed over her face again.

Heat burned on his, too. That had probably sounded like some kind of come-on, and despite her protestations, a woman like Grace Hatch had to feel extra wary. He swallowed and backed up a little more. “It’s just that my dad loved that dog from the day I stole him from your house and brought him to our place.”

She smiled a little. “My father thought I’d allowed him to run off. I was so happy when I spotted him with your parents a couple weeks later. I asked Mari at school and she told me what you’d done.”

A chill cruised along Kohl’s spine. “Your father—”

“It didn’t matter.” She spun back toward the shelves and restarted her cleaning and rearranging. “It doesn’t.”

Oh, God. It mattered. “He hit you.”

She shrugged.

Cold and heat collided inside of Kohl as rage mingled with something tender, a volatile cocktail. His hands fisted and it took everything he had to force his voice to gentleness. “He hit you for what I’d done.”

“Sometimes he hit me for making him dinner,” she said. “At least that time there was a reason for it.”

Kohl found himself facing the refrigerator again. Maybe those white walls would wipe clean his now cluttered conscience. That SOB, Peter Hatch, had hit his little girl for something Kohl had done—a prank on his part, really, though getting that dog into a bath hadn’t been a bit of fun. But while he’d been struggling with sixty pounds of stinky fur and shampoo, a man had laid a hand on Grace’s sugared skin.

He remembered her as a kid now, too, as scruffy and unkempt as the canine he’d rescued. But he’d left her behind . . . “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him,” he muttered.

“What’s that?”

A promise of more violence wasn’t something she needed in her life. “Nothing. Not a thing.” Asserting his will over his straining muscles—now he knew what the Hulk felt like—he reached for the sponge and started working once more on the refrigerator.

He cleared his throat, deciding he could take a stab at being civilized. Like that damn Liam Bennett, he thought. “Do you like working at Tanti Baci?”

“I do. I like the people that come into the tasting room. The time passes so quickly! And the Baci sisters . . .”

He glanced at her, catching the smile on her gold-dusted face. “You think they’re nice?”

“Stevie and Alessandra want to save the winery so very badly.”

He nodded. “Jules, too.”

Her blue eyes cut to him. They shook him again, their startling blue, the way they seemed to see him . . . differently than most women did. The females he’d been hanging with in bars the past couple of years looked at him and saw burly muscles and his barely restrained belligerence. Both attracted them, he knew. Then there was Giuliana . . .

“You’ve been such a good friend to her,” Grace said.

“She’s needed one.” As he’d gained more control of his moods, she’d given over to him more responsibility at Tanti Baci. He’d appreciated that and then come to see that through her trust she was bringing out the better man in him. His time in combat had been hell, and he’d been still partly there upon his return. Jules had seemed the beacon that beckoned the rest of him toward home. “And I owe her a lot.”

It made him think of her in Liam’s arms again, and he battled the urge to knock something over. But
damn it
—

“I owe you a lot, too,” Grace said quietly.

He glanced over his shoulder, his mind still on that smug son of a bitch who had been making him nuts for months. “What? Why? Because I took your dog and you took a hit for it?”

At the harsh tone of his voice, she twitched.

Shit.
There he went, scaring her again. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m a lousy kind of man for you to be around . . .”

“Don’t say that.”

Her big blue eyes were making him want to twitch again. “Honey—”

“You called me that,” she said, her gaze glued to his face. She put down her dust cloth and came closer.

For some reason, Kohl backed up, a man who hadn’t retreated from anything or anyone in all his life. One shoulder blade caught the edge of the refrigerator. There was nowhere to run.

“A group of boys was chasing me,” she said. “Down by the auto upholstery place.”

He frowned. The auto upholstery place was in a Quonset-styled, corrugated metal building on the edge of downtown. Just a few blocks from Edenville’s center square, but there wasn’t always a lot of traffic in that area. “What were you doing there?”

“Just wandering.” She shrugged. “Staying away from home. Staying out of the way.”

“And the boys?” He had a sick feeling. How come he didn’t remember?

“It’s not like that. I was seven,” she said. “They weren’t much older. But I fell and skinned my knee on the asphalt. You picked me up.”

He must have been, what? Fourteen? “I had two younger sisters.”

“ ‘Honey,’ you said. And you wiped my wet face with the hem of your shirt.”

He had no memory of it at all. Still, he pressed tighter to the uncomfortable edge of the refrigerator because the look on her face was unmistakable. She wasn’t afraid of him. She probably never would be afraid of him, he thought, feeling sort of awed by the realization.

He’d dried her tears.

He’d saved her dog.

But the light in her eyes scared the hell out of
him
. There was a kind of worship there, and everybody in Edenville knew Kohl Friday was no freakin’ hero.

Liam prodded one of Giuliana’s listless hands with a bread-stick he plucked from the pile in the basket on the table between them. “Start with this.”

She ignored the poke to gaze around the room. “Are the murals new? I don’t remember them.”

He looked over. The walls of Vincenzo’s were painted in the umber, blues, and greens of Italy. Vine-covered hills, brilliant sapphire skies, a golden-skinned girl with waist-length black hair covered by a white kerchief walked barefooted on a narrow path.

Tuscany. He smelled it in the herb and rose aroma of the Chianti in their glasses and from the basil and garlic in the pasta dish steaming on a neighboring table. His eyes cut to Giuliana and he saw her as she’d been that summer. Wavy hair to her hips, tip-tilted dark eyes bright with happiness, full lips turned up in a smile that could light all but those darkest corners of his heart.