Best Man for the Bridesmaid. Jennifer Faye
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hands.
“I’m a confirmed bachelorette.”
His dark brows lifted. “Really?”
“Don’t look so shocked. Men don’t have the market cornered on staying single.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I just never met a woman that didn’t believe in roses, platitudes and promises of forever.”
“Well, now you have.”
“So I have.”
Though she’d never admit it, standing here in this little piece of heaven on earth with a man whose thoughts extended beyond his zipper, she could at last understand why some women went the romantic forever route. She turned, and their gazes connected. She should glance away, but she didn’t want to. Not yet. Her stomach quivered. She’d never experienced such a sensation around a man. What was it about him that had her body betraying her?
Whatever it was, she’d have to be careful around him. No way was she going to fall for some unrealistic fantasy. She knew for a fact that the people you were supposed to trust the most were the first to let you down—the first to inflict pain. Her father had done it first. And then her mother had let her down in the worst way.
Jules refused to let herself get close enough to a man for him to hurt her.
* * *
The following morning, Stefano found himself lingering in the updated kitchen longer than necessary. Instead of his normal one cup of caffè, he’d just finished his second when he turned to refill his cup and found the pot empty.
Oh, this was ridiculous. He was stalling, and by the look on Maria’s face, their cook/housekeeper knew it, too. Thankfully she didn’t say a word about his beautiful houseguest. Maria turned her back to him and set about making a fresh pot.
He carried his empty cup to the sink.
Maria tilted her head to look at him. “If you wait, you can have more caffè.”
“No, thanks.” He forced a smile before gazing out the window at the brilliant morning sunshine casting a golden glow over the ordered rows of grapevines. “I’m just tired today. I was up late last night catching up on some paperwork for the winery. Harvest time will be here soon. We need to be prepared.”
Maria’s dark head nodded before she moved to the fridge. Just great. Now he was talking like a blathering fool. He shouldn’t be standing around—waiting for Jules. She’d be fine on her own. He’d shown her all around the villa yesterday.
The less he thought about the woman who wore far too much makeup, the better. His work was waiting for him, and it wasn’t getting done standing here.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
“Don’t worry so much. Everything will work out.”
Before he could ask what she meant, he heard footsteps. He turned to find Jules standing there in black shorts and a sheer long-sleeved black top. But what sent his heart slamming into his ribs was the black bra that was visible beneath her top. Wait. It was more than a bra, but not much more. There was a strip of stomach visible, and the spaghetti straps left her arms bare beneath the sheer top.
His first instinct was to get her one of his long-sleeved shirts to put on. What if one of the workmen saw her like this? His gut knotted up. Then again, why should he care what clothes she wore? Or who looked at her? But he couldn’t shrug off the unsettling feeling of protectiveness. He didn’t want other men ogling her.
The thought brought him up short. He couldn’t be jealous. That was ridiculous. He had no claim on her. Nor would he. She could traipse around in her birthday suit and it’d mean nothing to him.
So then why was the sight of her in that sexy little outfit warming his blood? His jaw tightened, and his body tensed. It’d be best if he thought of something else—and quick.
“Good morning.” She smiled as though she didn’t have a care in the world. “I didn’t mean to sleep in so late. I guess all of the traveling is catching up with me.”
Stefano’s mouth went dry, and his mind went blank. He should say something. Yet his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He was staring. And he couldn’t tear his gaze from her.
Maria stepped between them and offered Jules breakfast—a hearty one. As Jules dug in, the fact that the slip of a woman had such a hearty appetite didn’t escape his attention. When her eyes met his there was a twinkle of amusement in them.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did. I opened the window and a cool breeze put me straight to sleep.”
He sure hadn’t slept well—not at all. Thoughts of the little butterfly tattoo had fluttered through his mind. His attention strayed to her chest, but the material obscured his view. Just as well. He was better off not thinking of it at all.
Work. Concentrate on today’s tasks.
“I’m heading out to the fields.”
Jules’s eyes lit up. “Are you going to pick grapes? It looks like such fun on television.”
He chuckled. It was refreshing having someone around who didn’t think she was an expert when it came to the vines. “No. It’s not that time of the year. But at harvest time, you’re welcome to come back and join us.”
“Thanks.” The enthusiasm in her voice made him smile. “I just might take you up on the offer. But is it hard to learn?”
“No. Anyone can do it. I’m sure you’ll take right to it.”
Her lips pursed together. “I’ll definitely keep it in mind. Thank you for the invite.”
He mentally kicked himself for extending such a ridiculous invitation. Like she was going to fly all the way back to Italy to pick grapes. Yeah, right. But what if she did? Hope ballooned in his chest, and he immediately squelched it.
“If you aren’t picking grapes, what do you do?”
“There’s always something that needs tending. Right now, I’m going to thin the shoots.”
“Interesting.” Her brows scrunched together. “Sorry. I don’t know much about making wine. Actually I don’t know anything at all about it except how to drink it.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to offer to show her the basics, but spending time with her wasn’t a good idea. Besides, she was only feigning interest in the grapes to be nice. After all, why would this city girl be interested in a bunch of plants? He assured himself that she had plenty of wedding stuff to keep her occupied.
His grandfather shuffled into the kitchen using a walker to assist him. Ever since Nonno had a stroke, forcing him to hand over the reins of Ristorante Massimo to Dante, he’d been living at the villa. Nonno was his mother’s father and the only grandfather Stefano had even known. He loved him dearly and was so relieved to find that Nonno was starting to pull himself out of that dark place he’d briefly visited after being forced into retirement.
Stefano spoke up. “Nonno, this is Jules, Lizzie’s sister. She got in last night. Jules, this is my grandfather, Massimo.”
“I’m old, not deaf.” His grandfather frowned at him before turning a lopsided smile to Jules. “Welcome.”
Stefano smiled and shook his head. His grandfather still had an eye for women. Some things didn’t change. Stefano watched as his grandfather interacted with Jules. The frown lines on his face eased, and that took years off his appearance. Obviously Stefano wasn’t the only one to find a special quality in Jules that made the world a brighter place.
Jules smiled brightly at Nonno. “Lizzie has told me a lot about you, too.”
“All good, I hope.” His grandfather’s speech was still a bit slurred, but Stefano was