Crush on You (13 page)

“Mama . . .” the young woman breathed, her shining gaze lifting to her mother’s face.

Mama was made of sterner stuff. She shifted in her seat to focus on Alessandra. “I’m still concerned that the cottage will be available on my daughter’s wedding date.”

“I can promise you that the renovation will be complete,” Alessandra replied without a tremor. “I’m slated to be a bridesmaid for our very first Tanti Baci wedding at the end of this month. Your date isn’t until fall.”

“What I mean is, will the Tanti Baci winery still be in operation by then?”

Alessandra’s face froze, even as her stomach turned inside out. “I, uh, what do you mean?”

“I’ve heard there are financial problems,” the older woman said.

Oh. Oh no.
Until now, Alessandra had thought the winery’s difficulties were as secret as that affair she’d wanted with Penn. But look how well
that
had turned out.

Pasting on a serene smile, she gestured to the window behind her desk, which provided a view of row after row of Tanti Baci vines. Leafy and lush, they looked in the peak of health, unlike the bottom line on the Tanti Baci financial statement. “When you’re holding your breath waiting to hear your daughter pledge her life to her groom, all of us at the vineyard will be holding our breaths, too, waiting for harvest to begin. I guarantee we’ll be picking grapes next autumn.”

No lie whatsoever. Everyone pitched in at harvest time, and if the winery went belly-up, the entire staff would likely be signing on as a harvest assistant somewhere—including Alessandra. She was able to lift the requisite fifty pounds and could claim experience in sanitation, punch downs, and barrel prep, just to name a few of the tasks that could earn her a cellar rat’s minimum wage.

Unfortunately, the older woman seemed to hear everything Alessandra didn’t say. Her eyes narrowing, she hesitated, first looking at her daughter—who was back to mooning over the artist’s rendition of the cottage—then at Alessandra.

Damn, damn, damn. How many in the valley were aware of the winery’s financial troubles and how would that affect her chance to save it? No one liked being associated with a losing concern. Winners were much more appealing.

As if on cue, her office door burst open, and a handsome man stepped inside. Penn Bennett stopped short upon seeing mother and daughter. “Whoops,” he said, his mouth curving into that celebrity smile of his. “I came at the wrong time.”

Alessandra shot him a cool look, though socking him in the stomach seemed much more appealing after her sleepless night. “You can say that again.”

His gaze moved from the strangers to settle on Alessandra’s face and that smile turned more private. “I came at the wrong time,” he repeated, his voice seductive.

She was saved from having to douse him with a bucket of ice water by Bride-to-Be, who turned in her chair. “You’re Penn Bennett,” the young woman said. Her eyes were round in awe. “You’re famous.”

Alessandra’s lip curled. “He’s not famous.”

“Yes I am.”

“Yes he is.”

Penn and Mama-of-the-Bride spoke at the same time. “I’m a huge fan of his show,” Mama continued.

“Oh, that’s right,” Alessandra murmured, barely suppressing her sneer. “
Build Up My Ego
. How could I forget?”

“
Build Me Up
,” Mama corrected. She was looking a little moony herself as she gazed on Penn, which didn’t make Alessandra any happier remembering she’d practically begged the man to have an affair with her. It obviously put her squarely in the ranks of his fan-girl nation.

It was downright mortifying. She glared at him since a hole in the floor didn’t open up for her to fall into. “If you’ll excuse us?” she prompted, remembering too late she’d vowed never to speak to him again.

“No problem,” he said, with another flash of his Hollywood bright whites. “I just wanted to let you know I’m back at work in the cottage. Got a bit of a late start this morning.”

Probably because he’d found some other groupie to boff last night, she thought, shoving away the fuming feelings the thought provoked. Who cared if he’d stood her up her the night before?

“You . . .” Mama-of-the-Bride sat even straighter. “
You’re
working on the Tanti Baci cottage?”

“As a special favor to Alessandra,” Penn said. “I can’t seem to tell her no.”

“Do they have a name for men who say yes but who don’t follow through?” she asked sweetly, then cursed herself for not only addressing him again but also for giving away that she even recalled the event-that-wasn’t.

Penn looked at her. “Full of remorse?”

“Full of something, anyway.”

Mama and Bride-to-Be had been watching their last exchange like it was a Wimbledon match. Heat warming her cheeks, Alessandra cleared her throat and returned her attention to the business at hand. “Penn, I’ll have to ask you again to excuse us—”

“He’s really working on the cottage renovation?” the bride interrupted, her gaze glued to the TV star. “Mama, I could be married in something built by Penn Bennett.”

He straightened from his casual slouch against the doorjamb. “You’re planning on having your wedding here at Tanti Baci?” he asked with another smile. “Good choice.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Mama said, doing an about-face from five minutes before. “It seems like a very good choice.”

Penn’s smile widened as he nodded at the two bedazzled women. God, Alessandra thought. He was pumping out the charisma with the force of a fire hose. Now that she saw his effect on other females, she didn’t know if she felt more or less irritated with her own reaction to him. Obviously it was entirely due to his very potent—and very practiced—sexual allure.

Jerk. She
was
never speaking to him again.

Nor was she leaving the booking of this wedding up to his facile charm. Pushing away from her desk, she walked toward the shelves of cake toppers that had earlier captured Bride-to-Be’s attention. “As you can see from this collection handed down from mother to daughter here at Tanti Baci, we treasure marriage at the winery and we’ll do whatever it takes to make your wedding unique and memorable.”

She lifted her favorite topper from the shelf, a bisque bride and groom from the 1930s. The groom was in traditional black-and-white, and his partner’s dress was high-necked and long-sleeved, painted an opalescent ivory that still glowed. A netting veil circled her head as she gazed up at the man, and tiny fabric flowers were clutched in her hand.

“It’s so pretty,” Bride-to-Be said.

Alessandra smiled as she returned the topper to the shelf and layered on a little more icing. “It sat atop my great-grandparents’ wedding cake. They held hands like young lovers from the day they said ‘I do’ until the last day of their lives. They’re my inspiration—and they married right here at the winery.”

“Impressive,” Penn put in, as if he meant it. He even sounded serious as he continued. “If I found the right woman to spend the rest of my life with, Tanti Baci would be the perfect place to make my promise to her.”

Alessandra barely managed not to roll her eyes, aware he had no faith in ever-afters.

“I was concerned about the rumors I’ve been hearing about the winery’s financial status,” Mama said, her gaze on Penn. “But now that I know someone of your caliber is involved . . . well, I’m too aware of all your good works not to trust your fine judgment. If you’re involved here, then I can be at ease with booking my daughter’s wedding.”

Maybe it was just her, but Alessandra thought Penn cooled a little at the praise of his “good works” and “fine judgment.” But he was smiling now as the mother-of-the-bride wrote out the deposit check and then shook hands with Alessandra. He swept the ladies out of her office with more of his high-profile charm.

Then he shut the door, leaving the two of them facing each other, alone. His shoulders against the paneled wood, he gazed at her, his expression unreadable.

Alessandra crossed her arms over her chest and fought the urge to have a little cry. Now that she had Mama’s signature on the contract, a headache was throbbing at the base of her skull. Good God, that was close. Word was out about the Tanti Baci financial problems and she’d nearly lost a booking due to the rumors.

And this infuriating man—the one she’d promised herself she’d never speak to again—wouldn’t go away and stay away. “Good-bye, Penn.”

“Not so fast.”

Well, it had been worth a try. She sighed. “I suppose you expect me to thank you for that.”

He gave her one of his happy grins—the kind he saved for nails sold in brown bags and ogling her backside. “I’m not saying I saved you, but I did help you get the gig.”

“Listen, Penn,” she said, steel in her voice. “Believe me when I say I don’t—and won’t ever—need you to save me.”

His happy smile turned seductive as he pushed off the closed door. “On the contrary, little nun,” he said, gesturing at the shelves of cake toppers as he came closer. “Someone needs to save you from drowning in all this gooey ‘I do’ garbage and redirect your attention to what we both know you really want—getting it on.”

As Penn approached the young beauty across the office floor, alarm crossed her exotic face. He’d never seen anyone with such an enticing combination of features: golden skin, golden-brown eyes with an alluring tilt at their outside corners, the small, yet full mouth that was doll- like in its lush prettiness. Alessandra Baci, the tragic, virtuous baby bride who inspired in him so many devilish ideas of sin.

And now he was ready to take up where they’d left off the night before.

Her voice rose as he took another step forward. “What are you doing?”

He paused, frowning. “Don’t we have—”

“We have nothing.”

Penn sighed. He supposed he should have known “taking up” wouldn’t be easy, and the fire in her eyes confirmed it. Out of caution, he left a couple of feet between them. The Nun of Napa had a temper, he’d seen evidence of that more than once. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. The time got away from me. I had to go out for drinks with this guy I know from L.A., and once there I was hailed by a friendly group intent upon welcoming me into their ‘lucky sperm’ club. That was a little weird, but Liam and Seth were at the table so I thought I was safe. A few bottles later . . . well, I only know somebody’s driver got us home.”

She was shaking her head. “A night out with the lucky spermers.”

His sperm wasn’t feeling too lucky at the moment, not with that mutinous lower lip of hers in such evidence. “I didn’t really get it,” he admitted.

“It’s a reference to the generations in the valley who didn’t actually earn their wealth, just inherited it. You’re fortunate offspring.”

He bristled. “I’ve worked plenty damn hard in my life. Nobody ever gave me anything.”

“That was before . . . now, you’re lucky.”

The notion pissed him off, and the look on Alessandra’s face and the vestiges of a mild hangover didn’t help his mood. “You, too.”

She shook her head again. “The Bacis have no wealth to pass on. We’re cash poor. Sure, we could sell off what’s been in our family for a hundred years, but then we couldn’t afford to pay our debts and start over anywhere near Edenville.”

Penn rolled his shoulders, as much uncomfortable with the idea of the Baci sisters giving up their legacy as his new status as someone “lucky.” He took another step forward, determined again to pick up where they’d left off. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

She threw up a hand. “We’re certainly not doing anything other
than
talk.”

Catching her fingers, he softened his voice. “Conversation is not on our agenda, honey.”

“Neither is anything else.” She tried tugging her fingers free of his.

He held them tighter. “C’mon.” It was no surprise that she was pissed at him, but it wasn’t as if he’d intended last evening to go as it had. On his way out of the party, Rocky Reed had dropped Lana’s name and Penn had been obligated to exercise a little damage control in the form of Johnny Walker Black on ice. It had been necessary to convince the little prick that the woman calling into his radio show about her relationship with Penn was better ignored.

Christ Almighty, but the alternative made him break out in a cold sweat. He’d put up with a lot in his life but he couldn’t imagine anything worse than looking like a fool in public.

“Penn . . .” the Nun of Napa said, warning in her voice.

“Alessandra,” he mimicked, drawing her closer to him, even as she still resisted. Fire sparked between their bodies, and it put thoughts of everything else out of his head. Last night they’d been a dozen yards from a crowded party and he’d been so lost in lust he’d nearly had her naked. Remembering how it was, the material of her dress bunched in his fists and the sweet, fruity taste of her in his mouth, his blood slowed to a thick chug through his veins.

Her body brushed against him and desire coiled in his belly. Already his balls were drawing tight. “We have unfinished business.” He drew a jerky breath into his lungs and even that felt hot. It was time to taste her, touch her, let the combustion he’d been barely controlling explode. “Honey, let’s not waste time with you being mad.”