The Year of Chasing Dreams (13 page)

When Ciana turned into Bellmeade’s tree-lined driveway, she saw a car parked beside her front steps and heard Soldier barking furiously outside the driver’s door. Ciana screeched to a halt, jumped from her truck, and ran to the car. She grabbed Soldier’s collar, yelled, “Stay!” The dog sat and Ciana squinted into the window, but the tinted glass obscured the driver’s face. “Hello?” she said.

Slowly, the window inched down and a man’s voice, accented and hesitant, asked, “Am I safe?”

“Oh my gosh!” Ciana cried, her heart leaping along with a smile. “Is it really
you
?”

Just then Jon’s truck came barreling down the driveway and slid to a stop behind the car. Jon ran over and took the
dog’s collar from Ciana’s hand, saying, “Heard him barking half a mile away. What’s up?”

Ciana yanked open the car door and a tall, elegantly dressed dark-haired man emerged cautiously. She stood on tiptoes, threw her arms around him, kissed him, and cried, “Enzo! Jon, it’s Enzo Bertinalli, my friend from Italy!”

Jon nodded to Enzo, relaxed his grip on Soldier’s collar. The dog stood, ears forward, on guard, muzzle up.

“He—he won’t bite me, will he?” Enzo asked, leaning back against the car.

“Only if I tell him to,” Jon answered, wearing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Ciana shot Jon what she hoped was a withering look. She hooked her arm through Enzo’s. “Come into the house. Tell me all about life in Italy. And your horses.”

“I have wine for you,” he said, still not taking his eyes off the dog.

“I’ll just mosey to the barn,” Jon said in an exaggerated Texas drawl.

If looks could kill, Ciana would have laid Jon out on the ground. She and Enzo watched Jon and Soldier walk away, and once the two were a safe distance away, Enzo swung her to face him. “I did not have a way to reach you, or I would have
called. So I drove over from Nashville where I am staying, and all in your town knew where to find you.”

I’ll bet
, she thought. “Let’s go inside.”

Enzo opened the back door of the rental car and pulled out a Styrofoam box. “My best reserve vintage from last year.”

His vineyards were famous and his wines some of the finest in Tuscany. “Thanks. Can’t wait to open one.” She led him up the steps, through the foyer, and down a hallway and into the kitchen. “There’s usually someone here. My mom must have run out.”

He set the box on the counter, took Ciana’s hands in his, appraised her head to toe. “You are as lovely as I remember,
bella
Ciana.”

She blushed, knowing her hair was windblown and her face makeup-free, and she figured she smelled like hay and horse feed. “Nice of you to say. I was in town running errands, buying seed. I start planting middle of next month.” Reminding herself of another bill that would come due all too soon. His brown eyes caught hers, taking her back to evenings in Italy with him, when he’d held her, kissed her. She felt her face grow warm with the memories. “Let me take your coat. We’ll sit in the front room.”

He slid his coat off, handed it to her. The fine cashmere felt soft as silk. She led him into the refurbished parlor with its midcentury furnishings, grateful that she’d gotten it freshly painted and put back together over the winter. She draped his coat over a chair, sat on the sofa, and patted the cushion beside her. “So what brings you to Nashville?”

He eased beside her. “Often I go to New York City to a few select restaurants to sell my wines to key clients. This year I brought some to Nashville. I have heard it might be a good market.”

She was surprised he’d come so far west. “Long way from New York.”

“And I come also to meet with a man who wishes to buy the stud services of one of my prize stallions.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

Enzo’s horses were world-class thoroughbreds, greatly valued in the equestrian world. She was certain breeding fees would be substantial. “I’m impressed.”

Enzo’s hand slid over hers, making her remember that he liked to touch her. She had liked it too. “The patron has four daughters, all riders, and one wishes to ride in the Olympics one day. For that she needs a very good horse.”

“Won’t it take years to raise a colt?”

“She is young, and her father gives her what her heart desires.” He used his other hand to gesture. “She is a—how do you say—a child with his younger wife. His other daughters are grown.”

Ciana caught on instantly. Older man. Second wife. Child of their own. Indulged. “Well, you do have great horses, so she’ll be lucky to have one from their bloodlines. I know I enjoyed our rides together.”

He smiled. “And the picnics?”

“And the picnics.” There was no forgetting the bountiful picnics on his property by the lake. Or the way he’d lavished attention on her. She fidgeted.

Just then, her mother’s voice called from the kitchen, “Ciana? You here? There’s a strange car in the front—” Coming into the parlor, she stopped abruptly. “Oh, hello.”

Enzo stood and so did Ciana, who quickly made introductions. He took Alice Faye’s hand, showered her with greetings in beautifully accented English and courtly manners.

Ciana watched her mother’s face color as she smiled shyly
and slipped her hand from Enzo’s. Ciana recognized what was happening immediately. Alice Faye’s hands were a farm woman’s hands, rough and callused from years of hard work, hands she thought unfit to be caressed by one such as Enzo. Somehow understanding her mother’s embarrassment touched Ciana. She stepped up quickly. “Mom, I first met Enzo in one of his vineyards. He was working with his vines, and he caught me inspecting a handful of dirt and almost called the police.”

Enzo laughed and together, they told Alice Faye the whole story. She laughed with them, her eyes frequently lingering on Enzo. The man oozed sexual warmth. He didn’t flaunt it; he simply owned it. No wonder her mother was charmed. Ciana had been too. “Where are my manners? I haven’t offered you anything to drink,” Alice Faye said suddenly, looking mortified.

Enzo held up his hand. “This is all right.”

“Not in the South,” Ciana joked. “It’s like a crime.”

“I have sweet tea,” Alice Faye said.

Enzo’s brow puckered. “I have brought you wine, an excellent vintage. I will open a bottle if you wish.”

Ciana remembered the case of wine in the kitchen, knowing her mother would be unable to drink it. She didn’t want her mother put in an awkward position, but before she could say a word, Alice Faye smiled and said, “Sweet tea is the wine of the South, sir. And I make the best for miles around.”

Enzo dipped his head in consent and Alice Faye exited to the kitchen. He turned to Ciana.
“Tua mama è graziosa, di buon cuore.”

“My mother is charming and kindhearted,” Ciana translated smugly. “I haven’t forgotten all my Italian.”

He chuckled, his brown eyes dancing, lit by an inner glow. “You are her best reflection.” Ciana felt her own face grow
warm under his scrutiny. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. Enzo was beguiling. And damn near perfect to boot.

Alice Faye invited Enzo to stay for supper, but he graciously declined, saying he already had dinner plans in Nashville. Ciana had to concede that everything Enzo did seemed gracious. Night had fallen when Ciana walked Enzo out to his car, and the cold air sent a shiver up Ciana’s arms. Enzo reached out, rubbed his gloved hands up and down her coat sleeves. She felt very inelegant in her barn jacket. Still he said, “I’d like to visit you again.”

“I’d like that too. We’ll go riding. My horses aren’t so grand or finely bred as yours, but they give a good ride.”

“No doubt. But I come for your company, Ciana, not a horse’s.”

She flushed. Charming as always. “How long will you be in the States?”

“Not so sure just yet. All is centered around business. I will call,” he said, and drove away.

Before she could get up the front steps, Jon caught up with her. “Fancy guy.”

His observation irked her. “
Elegant
guy. He was very kind to us when we were in Italy.”

“No doubt.”

“He’ll be coming back,” she snapped.

“I’ll make sure to tell Soldier to put him on the approved visitors list.”

She stamped her foot. “Why are you being so sarcastic? Enzo is an amazing horseman. Has some of the best horses in Europe. You might want to talk to him.”

Light from the parlor played across Jon’s features. She saw mischief in his eyes. “What’s he going to tell me, Ciana? I want to raise and train mustangs, mongrels to a man like him. No, I’ll leave that field open.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “But that’s the only field I’m leaving open.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bounded up the steps. “Come on, I smell fried chicken.”

She was furious at him and his macho attitude. “You’re really pissing me off!” she growled, as he opened the front door and stepped inside. He turned, winked. She shouted, “This isn’t a contest, you know, Jon. I’m not a prize!”

He turned, winked. “Supper’s getting cold.”

She watched him disappear into the house, waited a full five minutes shivering in the dark and cold before she calmed down enough to follow him inside.

When she walked into the kitchen, he grinned.

After Eden’s close call with drowning, Garret’s family doted on her to the point of embarrassment. Maggie insisted they stick close to the house, so with long lazy days beside the ever calm pool water, Eden began to open up to Garret about her past, working backward, starting with Italy and the fun they’d shared. The gift Garret had always given her was space. He never pressed her or insisted she tell him about herself. To the contrary, when she’d tried to tell him about her past while in Italy, he had brushed it away with “Don’t care. Right now is what matters.” At the time she’d been fine with that, believing she would never see him again once her stay at the villa was over.

Except that now she was with him constantly, and more involved with him than she’d thought possible. She’d come to realize that she needed to be more forthcoming with her personal history—all of it, good and bad.

One morning while they stretched out on towels, he asked, “Do you think your mum will like me?”