They walked side by side along the firm, damp sand. The tide was out and seagulls floated overhead, allowing the breeze to carry them back and forth with no effort on their part. She inhaled the scent of salt water and brine. A few clouds hurried across the blue sky.
Occasionally their shoulders bumped. After a few minutes Nic took her hand in his.
They were out of time, Brenna decided. This wasn’t now, wasn’t then; the moment simply existed with no expectation, no pressure. She raised her face to the sun. If only they could stay like this forever.
A seagull flew down in front of them and pecked at the sand. As they approached, the large bird flapped its wings and ran a few feet up the beach.
“Max would enjoy this,” she said, breaking the silence.
“He’s not a motorcycle kind of dog.”
“Good point.”
Nic stopped and pulled Brenna toward him. As she stepped into his embrace, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her so she stood with her back to him. He moved close behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She settled her hands on top of his.
They faced the ocean, staring out to the line of the horizon.
“Do you ever want to sail to the edge there and see what’s beyond it?” she asked.
“If you head south and west, you’ll hit Hawaii.”
“Works for me.”
Days lolling on a white, sandy beach. A cabana boy to bring her drinks with umbrellas.
“Your brother came to see me.”
Nic’s words were so at odds with her thoughts that at first she didn’t know what he meant.
“Joe’s gone. He went back to the base.”
He pressed his cheek against her hair. “I know. He stopped by on his way out of town.”
She tried to turn to look at him, but his arms held her in place. “Why?”
“To warn me off. He said if I did anything to hurt you, he would have my head on a platter.”
She was stunned. “He did not.”
“He told me that he had special training he was very willing to use and that he wanted to make sure nothing happened to you.”
“I-He-” She closed her mouth, opened it, then closed it again. “No way.”
“I’m not making this up.”
She didn’t know what to think. Joe? Threatening Nic? How like a guy. She turned in his embrace.
“That’s not all he did,” she told him happily. “He turned down the winery.”
“I’d wondered about that.”
“It’s true. My grandfather grumbled about it for an entire day. Joe figured out no one was going to write him a check for what the winery was worth and that it was more than likely that our grandfather would tie things up such that he couldn’t sell it and walk away. Joe said there were too many strings attached.”
Even three days after her brother had left, Brenna still had trouble believing it all herself.
Nic touched her face. “So it’s all yours now.”
“I hope so. I guess he could still sell, but I’m not going to think about it. For right now, my life is pretty damned perfect, and after all the crap I’ve been through, I intend to enjoy it.”
“Good for you.”
“Yeah. Good for me.”
She turned so she once again faced the ocean. Nic held her close, her back nestling into his chest. This felt right in so many ways.
“Is Joe going to come back?” Nic asked.
“I think so. We were more than he could deal with the first time out, but I doubt he’ll get away for long. I spoke to Mom, and she said Joe promised to stay in touch. She and my dad are going down to visit him next month. I think the Marcelli family is a lot easier to take in small doses.”
Nic didn’t say anything. Brenna thought about asking what he was thinking, but then decided she didn’t want to know. This moment was perfect and she didn’t want it ruined by anything. Not the present, the future, and certainly not the past.
Although there was plenty there to mess things up. So many mistakes. So much pain.
With the clarity of hindsight, she knew she’d made a huge mistake in not marrying Nic all those years ago. She should have defied her family and run away with him and the consequences be damned. When his grandfather threw him out, they could have gone to France together.
Instead she’d been afraid and Nic had lost everything.
Did getting Wild Sea back make up for it? she wondered. Not that she was going to ask. If the answer was no, she would feel guilty and more than a little ashamed for her part it in. Nic had been treated badly by the people who were supposed to love him.
His parents. His grandfather. Her.
Had anyone he’d ever loved not betrayed him?
Regret filled her. Regret for her part in his pain and regret for the little boy who had been left alone.
She wanted to say something, but what? She wanted-
He turned her toward him and kissed her. The soft pressure of his mouth made her eyes sink closed and her arms circle around his neck.
Yes, she thought hazily, parting her lips. This was what she wanted. This was what felt right. Being here with him on a sunny fall day when the air was sweet with possibilities.
He broke the kiss and looked at her. As she stared into his dark eyes, she saw down to the very essence of the man who had been so much a part of her life. She touched his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.
“Let’s never go back,” she whispered. “We could stay here forever.”
“What happens when the tide comes in?”
“Details.”
“I’m tempted.”
She wanted him to be more than that. She wanted him to be-
In love with her.
The truth crashed into Brenna like one of the waves slapping onto the sand. She wanted Nic to remember how good they had been together and know they could have all that again, plus the wisdom that comes with maturity. She wanted him to sweep her up in his arms and confess that he’d never stopped loving her, thinking about her, needing her, because-her breath caught-it was more than possible she’d never stopped loving him.
“Brenna? Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she said automatically. “You’re right. We’d better head back.”
She led the way to the motorcycle and slipped on her helmet. But her mind wasn’t on the task. Instead she couldn’t stop wondering if it was really true. Had she spent the past ten years living a lie? Had she really never stopped loving Nic or had she been foolish enough to fall in love with him all over again?
Lorenzo walked into the small restaurant a little before ten in the morning. He knew the names and reputations of the men who wanted to meet with him, if not their faces. He even knew what they wanted.
A young man looked up from setting the two dozen or so tables in the main room. “We’re not open, sir.”
“I’m Lorenzo Marcelli. There is to be a meeting.”
“Oh. Yes, sir.” The young man straightened. “Right this way.”
He led Lorenzo into a back room filled with a long table. There weren’t any place settings here. Only pads of paper and a pot of coffee along with a few cups. Two men stood as he entered.
“Mr. Marcelli, thank you for coming. I’m Bill Freeman and this is my associate, Roger White. Please, have a seat.”
Lorenzo sat down heavily on one side of the table while the two men settled across from him. He knew what they were after, and while he wanted them to come to the point, he waited while they poured him water and offered coffee, which he declined.
“As you may have guessed, we’re very interested in your winery,” Bill Freeman said.
“I have little else that would interest men like you,” Lorenzo said. “I’m an old man. I don’t think you want to offer me a job with one of your companies.”
The two men chuckled. “Would you take one?” Bill asked.
Lorenzo shrugged. “Probably not.”