.

his work—in his heritage. That was an area where Gianna had never showed any interest. The only thing that she had to say about the vineyard was that it took up all his time and that it kept them from moving to the city. He hadn’t realized when they’d married that she expected a different sort of life. He figured that marrying a local girl would ensure that they both wanted a quiet way of life. He’d been so wrong.

      He gave Jules the grand tour, starting at the office, and then they moved on to the processing room, where during the harvest the grapes were hand sorted. He showed her the barrel room where the wine was aged. The tour concluded in the spacious wine-tasting room with its long, thin table for the guests.

      “We should head back for lunch.” He guided her outside.

      “Thank you for the personal tour. I really enjoyed it. I’m just sorry I’ll miss seeing all of the activity during the harvest.”

      “You always have an open invitation to return anytime.”

      She peered deeply into his eyes, and his heart thumped hard and fast. When she glanced away, her butterfly tattoo caught his attention. Just the tips of the wings peeked out of the dress’s neckline. He longed to see all of it. He’d never seen anything so captivating. A struggle warred within him—common sense versus his raging testosterone. And the testosterone was taking the lead.

      Jules turned away and started to walk. “This estate is so big. You certainly don’t have to worry about bothering any of your neighbors.”

      The land was the last thing on his mind, but he struggled to make intelligent conversation. “Over the generations, it has grown. Buying more of the surrounding properties was a priority.”

      “Are you still looking into expanding?”

      “If the opportunity presents itself, sure. But it isn’t my focus.” His only interest now was finding out if her lips were as sweet as the finest brachetto grape.

      “What is your priority?”

      It was on the tip of his tongue to say that it was her—that making her deliriously happy was his priority. But he bit back the ridiculous words before he could utter them. What in the world was getting into him?

      He cleared his throat as he searched for a reasonable answer. “The quality of the wine. And broadening our interaction with the public.”

      Her footsteps were muffled by the grass. “Sounds exciting.”

      “You think so?”

      “I do. I love the vineyard. I’m sure others will love it, too. It’s so peaceful and relaxing. I can see why you stayed on and continue to work with your father.”

      “But surely you wouldn’t do the same thing if roles were reversed.” She was a city girl, born and bred. The tranquility was just a novelty thing. Sooner or later she’d want to move on...just like his late wife.

      “I could definitely see me living here. In another world, I’d have a big family with lots of room for the kids to play. And cats. And dogs. And maybe a horse or two.”

      “Talk about a menagerie. Are you sure you’d be up for all of that?”

      She shrugged. “It isn’t like it’s ever going to happen. I don’t live here, and as you well know I’m not exactly the poster girl for motherhood. But sometimes it’s nice to dream.”

      “I don’t see why you have to dream when you can make it a reality. Well, at least the part of being a mother and having a menagerie of cats and dogs.”

      She stopped and stared up at him. “Look at me.”

      He did as she asked. His heart started to pound again. He held his body rigid, resisting the urge to pull her close. He recalled vividly how soft her curves were, and his resolve wavered.

      “No, really look at me.” Her serious tone snapped him to attention. “What do you see?”

      “I see your beautiful face without all of that makeup.”

      “I didn’t see much point in it without air-conditioning. I end up wiping most of it off throughout the day.”

      “That’s good.” When her brows lifted in a questioning fashion, he added, “I mean it’s good that you gave up on the makeup. You don’t need it.”

      The truth was that she was even more beautiful without it. She had such a fresh young face, and it needed no enhancement at all. He was captivated by her natural beauty. And with her hair loose and blowing in the breeze, she had a down-to-earth appeal. No longer did she look like she’d just walked off a rock video. Now she looked like someone who might actually belong in his world. But part of him missed her hip, chic look. That in and of itself surprised him.

      Her head tilted to the side, but her gaze never left his. “What are you thinking?”

      He hadn’t realized he’d gotten so caught up in his thoughts. “I was thinking about you.”

      “And what did you decide?”

      “That you are beautiful.” He looked deep into her eyes and saw disbelief. He’d have to prove it to her. “Your green eyes are a shade or two deeper than the grape leaves. And your long, dark lashes make your eyes very alluring. Your skin is smooth and makes me long to run my fingers down its velvety softness.”

      Color rose in her cheeks. “You’re missing the point. The scars. You can’t miss them. And they’re ugly.”

      “They aren’t ugly. You aren’t ugly.”

      She shook her head. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

      “I’m speaking the truth.” He desperately wanted her to believe him.

      “No, you aren’t.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t tell you the details before, maybe I should now. Maybe then you’ll understand why I find the scars so ugly.”

      He opened his mouth to protest but then closed it without saying a word. Perhaps talking about it would be good for her.

      “I told you that my mother did this to me, but what I didn’t tell you was that it was during one of her drunken bouts. She was angry because she’d run out of vodka. I was on my way home from playing with the neighbor. She smacked me and I lost my balance at the top of the porch steps. Down I went, hitting...hitting my head on the edge of the steps and landing on the cement sidewalk.”

      Stefano clenched his hands. How could a mother do that to her own child? It was inconceivable. And yet the only words he could find to convey his sympathy seemed so inadequate. And it really didn’t matter because no words could make up for what she’d experienced at the hand of the one person who was supposed to love and protect her.

      “I’m so sorry.”

      “Don’t be. It was the best thing to happen to me.” Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, but she kept it together. “When I lived with my mother, there was never enough to eat. Rarely was there clean laundry. And the longer it went on, the meaner she became. If they hadn’t taken me away, I’d have never met Lizzie.” Jules stopped and drew in an uneven breath. “My mother wasn’t strong enough to take care of both of us. Eventually she turned to drugs and OD’d. Now do you finally understand why I shouldn’t be a mother?”

      “I think that you’re amazing and the strongest person I know.” He meant every single word. She had impressed him before this, and now he was just in awe of her. “And above it all, I still believe you can achieve whatever you set your mind on. But none of that changes what I see when I look at you. You’re beautiful. From the wrinkle in your forehead when you’re confused to the tip of your nose to your rosy lips that are just ripe for tasting.”

      And without thinking of the ramifications of what he was about to do, he leaned forward and lowered his head. The only thing that mattered now was making her feel better. He had to let her know that those scars didn’t define her. She was beautiful in spite of