as if he could never hurt her feelings, as if she knew they were destined to be together. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t been so vibrant. Cori’s dark, Italian complexion combined with soft brown eyes and long, wavy blond hair often drew glances. At only five foot four, she’d had the sleek proportions of a model several inches taller. But it was Cori’s bubbly personality that kept Blake’s attention, because Blake had given up on enjoying life after his mother and stepfather died.
Blake sighed, opening the floodgates to more memories.
The summer progressed and things intensified as he and Cori became friends teetering on the edge of something more. Blake lived with the unexpected daily pain of seeing Cori go out with those spoiled rich kids in their foreign sports cars to all those soirees, wine tastings and balls. All dressed up in her fancy clothes, ears and slender neck decked out in expensive jewelry even though she was only a kid—barely nineteen—looking like a delicious piece of eye candy. It hurt to see her go, especially when Cori admitted that she’d rather stay home with him.
As those summer days passed, Blake grew more frustrated because he knew what those rich boys had in mind when they took Cori out. Despite Blake’s best intentions, he’d struggled with the same forbidden desire for Cori Sinclair that he knew the rich kids did. But Blake had two things stopping him from doing anything about his feelings—Salvatore Messina and the need to provide for Jennifer. He couldn’t afford to lose his job. Blake was sure it would take wild horses to get him to touch Cori Sinclair.
In the end, it had taken much less than that.
Blake shook his head, stopping himself from reliving that memory. It was bad enough that Cori still invaded his dreams. He couldn’t have her hovering in his thoughts during the day.
Rather than veer deeper into the vineyards on his rounds, Blake walked farther down the driveway in the dappled shade provided by the oak trees lining the drive. Out of habit, he scanned the neat rows of grapevines as he passed, looking for the impending bud break that signaled spring had arrived in the vineyard, when a new set of duties would face Blake. At this time of year, the grapevines stood bare, unadorned by the heavy foliage that sheltered grape clusters from the sun in early summer.
Not ten steps later, Blake’s thoughts returned to Cori.
The optimistic, naive Cori wasn’t in evidence today. Neither was her heart-stopping smile. This Cori Sinclair was tougher, undoubtedly hardened because the son of a bitch who got her pregnant hadn’t been honorable enough to marry her. He knew Cori. She wouldn’t choose to be an unwed mother.
The image of Cori leaning against her car in the driveway returned. She’d cut her hair so that it fell in tousled, golden waves around her face and shoulders. Having a baby had transformed her sleek frame into a curvy figure. Cori was a knockout in that red dress. It was short enough to make her legs look long, particularly when she’d leaned into the car to pick up the kid. And when the hem had hiked up in front, well…
Blake frowned. Not only was Cori off-limits, then and now, but she’d made it abundantly clear one night, years ago, that Blake wasn’t good enough for her.
The school bus rumbled into the drive of Messina Vineyards, and a moment later, Jennifer stepped off. Fleetingly, Blake wondered if he’d been thinking about Cori to avoid thinking about the problems he was having raising his sister, or the helplessness he suffered when he thought about Sophia dying.
Jennifer looked like any normal almost thirteen-year-old in blue jeans, an Old Navy T-shirt and bulky leather shoes, her long brown hair lifting gently on the breeze. Blake was glad to see her. Glad they had each other. Glad of the choices he’d made to keep them together.
Then Jen opened her mouth.
“I’ve told you before, I don’t need to be picked up at the bus.” Her steps changed to the swagger of a soon-to-be woman and her expression turned sullen.
Blake sighed. “I wanted some company,” he said, realizing it was true. Sophia was having one of her better days, which made the thought of losing her that much harder to bear.
“Huh.”
Jen’s code for “leave me alone.” They headed back to the main house, carefully walking on opposite sides of the road, careful to keep their thoughts to themselves. Blake longed for the days when Jen had slipped her hand into his, chattering freely about her day.
“How’s Sophia?”
Blake read the anxiety Jennifer tried to hide in her voice and felt sorry for her. Sophia Sinclair was like a grandmother to Jennifer, inviting her to fancy dinners, opening the big house to her when Blake traveled for the winery. It was hard enough for a girl to lose her parents when she was four. Why did the only other woman Jen had bonded with have to die early, as well?
“It’s a good day.” Blake wished he could tell her Sophia was getting better. “You’re doing your homework with her, right?”
“Don’t I always?”
Too late, Blake realized that Cori was here to keep Sophia company and might consider Jen an intruder. Well, too bad. Jennifer was just as much a part of Sophia’s family as Cori was. Sophia and Jennifer shared a special relationship.
“Don’t put me down!”
The shrill plea cut through the air, shuddering along Blake’s nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. It was the kid. Whining again. Brush concealed the part of the driveway where Cori’s car was parked, but the boy’s voice definitely came from there.
“I need to get our suitcases out, Peanut. I can’t do that with one hand.”
“Houseguests,” Blake warned Jennifer as they rounded the curve of the driveway, hoping his expression communicated that she should behave.
Jennifer frowned.
“Can we help you with those?” Blake offered, watching the kid squirm in Cori’s arms. Her dress hiked up again, and he forced his eyes to stay on her face.
“Mommy, I want to go home,” wailed the kid.
Cori looked as if she’d rather accept help from her worst enemy than from Blake, but after a moment’s consideration, she nodded.
“You remember Cori, don’t you, Jen?” Blake asked as he approached, trying to lay the foundation of peace.
“No. Who are you?” Jen asked sweetly, when Blake knew full well that his sister remembered who Cori was.
Blake gave his sister a stern glance before looking into Cori’s trunk. He was surprised at what he found. Only two medium, black wheelie-bags—not even an expensive brand but the cheap kind that you got at a discount store—a computer satchel, a sleeping bag and one well-worn, stained backpack.
Cori introduced herself and the kid to Jennifer. The back of the boy’s head nestled against Cori’s neck, his chin rested on her shoulder. Short, spindly legs dangled on either side of Cori’s hips. From his size, Blake guessed him to be around three. The kid eyed Jennifer suspiciously, earning a bit of reluctant respect from Blake. Lately, his sister rode an emotional pendulum from heated disdain to cool affection. An unsuspecting little boy would be an easy mark for her derision.
Blake handed the laptop to Cori and passed the backpack to Jen, who held it out as if it had germs. He carried the sleeping bag and two wheelies into the house.
“Where to?” Blake asked as he headed upstairs.
“My old room.”
Blake heard Jen huff in outrage behind him. She’d been sleeping in Cori’s bedroom when she stayed with Sophia and had become rather proprietary about it, even going so far as to refer to it as “my room.” Blake hoped Jennifer decided to use good manners today so that she wouldn’t embarrass him.
“It’s only got one single bed. Maybe you should stay in the guest room,” Blake said as they climbed the stairs, trying to avoid a blowup.
“I’m not a guest,”