Francesca looked surprised. “You’re giving away cars? Can I put in my order? I’ve always wanted something flashy. In red or silver.”
“A convertible?” he asked.
“Oh, that would be nice.”
Kelly stamped her foot. “Would you two please pay attention to me. This is important.”
Sam ignored her and took Francesca’s arm. “Have you had coffee?”
“Yes, but I can always use more. I’m not really a morning person.”
“What are you doing?” Kelly asked in a shriek.
“Ignoring you until you can act like a civilized person,” Sam said.
“I’m civilized!” Kelly yelled. “I’m polite and well mannered and you’re just a stupid butthead.”
Sam turned back to Kelly. She stood with her hand over her mouth. At least she looked shocked.
“I guess you’re not going to have class today, huh?” he said quietly.
She dropped her hand, opened her mouth, closed it, then burst into tears. Seconds later she was running up the stairs, sobbing as if her heart would break.
Sam sighed. “I know you said to be patient, but nothing about this is easy.”
Francesca squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry. Things were going so well last week.”
“Probably because Kelly was getting her way. She’s one determined kid.”
They walked into the kitchen. Doreen sat at the table, reading the paper. She looked up at them and smiled.
“Good morning, Mr. Reese.”
“Doreen. This is my friend, Francesca.”
The nanny nodded pleasantly. “Is Kelly about ready to leave? I know she doesn’t like to be late for her class.”
“She won’t be going today. She needs to learn to control her temper.”
Doreen nodded. “She’s at that age, Mr. Reese. They get human again in a few years.”
Sam wondered if he would survive. He poured two mugs of coffee.
“I would like Kelly to stay around the house today so she can think about what went wrong this morning. Tomorrow she’ll be heading back to class. As those are only in the morning, feel free to take her shopping or to the movies in the afternoon.”
Doreen nodded. “Certainly.”
She spoke pleasantly enough, but Sam had the idea that hanging out with a twelve-year-old at the mall wasn’t Doreen’s idea of a good time.
He and Francesca took their coffee onto the deck. Sam was careful to shut the French doors behind them.
“I don’t think Doreen likes children that much,” he said.
“She’s probably more into babies,” Francesca said. “Plus, Kelly can be a handful.”
“She swears she’s being pleasant to Doreen, and when I’ve asked, there haven’t been any complaints. I don’t know.” He sipped his coffee.
Francesca leaned close. “I know you’re going to hate me for siding with your daughter, but, Sam, the woman smells.”
He groaned. “Great. So I have to find someone else.”
“That’s your call.” She leaned back in the wooden chair. “It’s just too bad Kelly can’t get into some summer programs and meet kids her own age. Has she made any friends at her dance class?”
“A couple. She went home with one Friday afternoon. I guess it went well. The mother wasn’t screaming when I picked Kelly up.”
“That’s something.”
“My daughter can be pleasant when she chooses to be, but the rest of the time, she’s a complete…”
Francesca looked at him. “Are you editing?”
“Yes. You’d be shocked if you knew what I was thinking.”
Francesca grinned. “I doubt that. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a terrific job.”
“Thanks. It means a lot.”
He smiled at her, taking in her long thick hair, and the tank top and shorts. She was sexy, pretty, intelligent, and caring. Talk about a tempting package. He’d met a lot of lying, cheating, using women in his life, and she was nothing like them.
“I have my grandfather to thank for you,” he said. “All those years he pounded good manners into me. They finally paid off.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
“If I hadn’t stopped to help you that day you were in the building, we never would have met.”
“You could try telling Kelly that story,” she said. “Maybe it would convince her manners have merit.”
“I doubt it.” He brushed his fingers against her bare arm. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me, too.”
“Want to have a sleepover?”
“More than you know, but what about Kelly?”
“Are you interested in sneaking around?”
One corner of her mouth twitched. “I’ve never done it before. Is it fun?”
“I’ve heard it’s exciting and erotic.”
She laughed. “You wouldn’t happen to know this from personal experience, would you?”
“Me?” He pretended shock. “I don’t do that sort of thing. I’m an upfront guy.” He leaned toward her and brushed her mouth with his. “Kelly’s usually in bed by ten.”
“I’ll be at your front door at eleven,” Francesca said.
His blood surged at the thought. “I can’t wait.”
“You can’t,” Sam said sometime close to two in the morning.
Francesca stretched out next to him, her bare leg brushing against his. “Of course I can. I want to. There’s no way you’re going to get anyone new for a couple of weeks. Tell Kelly she only has to deal with Doreen full time this week. The Fourth is Friday and that’s a holiday. Next week I’ll take her Tuesday and Thursday. I’m sure Doreen will appreciate the break, as will your daughter.”
He rose on one elbow and stared into Francesca’s green eyes. “What do you get out of it?”
“I like Kelly. She’s fun.” She pressed her lips together. “When she’s not being a pain.”
“What about your dissertation?”
She ran her hand along his back. “You are looking at the author of a completed outline. So there!”
He was torn between offering her money and telling her she didn’t owe him anything.
“I want to,” she told him. “Just be gracious and say yes. Or better yet, show your gratitude in a more carnal way. Be inventive. Startle me with—”
She shrieked as he suddenly flipped her onto her stomach. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.
He nipped at her backside. “Being inventive.”
Francesca hummed through her morning. She’d been up most of the night, her insides felt mushy and sore, and she couldn’t be happier. Sam Reese was a man who knew his way around a woman’s body. Contentment didn’t begin to describe the feeling of well-being that swept through her.
She pulled her date book out of her purse and flipped through the pages. If she was going to take Kelly for a couple of days for the next week or so, she needed to schedule writing time on her dissertation. An outline was one thing, but actually getting all the information together and processing it was something else.
She penciled in several blocks of time, then flipped back to check the dates of her experiments. The one in Sam’s building had been just over three weeks ago, and the one before had been five weeks ago and—
Francesca frowned as she stared at the small three-dimensional box she’d drawn by the date two days after the experiment at the old mission. She’d been in a wheelchair that time, tormenting tourists. And two days later she’d gotten her period.
She flipped back a month. There was the little box indicating her start date, then she flipped forward. No box. Not even the hint of a box. She slammed the date book shut.
No way, she thought, trying to avoid panic. Not possible. They’d used a condom. Every single time. She knew. She’d been there.
Three hours later she stared at the plus sign on the slender stick. Her mind was blank. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t believe.
This wasn’t happening, she told herself. It couldn’t be. She absolutely could not be pregnant.
11
“I don’t see the point,” Gabriel grumbled as he poked his cane into the floor mat of the passenger seat. “Not that anyone asked me. I guess when a man reaches a certain age, his family sees him as little more than a piece of furniture to be moved around and kept out of the way.”
Sam held in a grin. “You said you wanted to come.”
His grandfather glared at him. “When did I say that? I never said that.”
From the backseat Kelly leaned forward as far as her seat belt would allow. “Sure you did. When you came to dinner. I remember. You complain a lot.”
Gabriel grumbled something under his breath. “I’m allowed to complain. It’s a privilege of age.”
“But you just said you get moved around like a piece of furniture because you’re old. So is it good or bad?”
Gabriel turned around and eyed his great-granddaughter. “It beats being dead.”
Sam quickly glanced in the rearview mirror. Kelly blinked, then grinned.
“I guess so,” she said.
Gabriel chuckled and Sam relaxed his grip on the steering wheel.
After their disastrous first meeting, he’d been hesitant to have Gabriel over to the house for dinner. But he knew Kelly and Gabriel needed to develop a relationship. Also, he didn’t like to leave his grandfather on his own, especially with Elena out of town. Fortunately the meal had occurred right after Sam had agreed to find a replacement for the fragrant Doreen and Kelly had been in a good mood.
“Grandpa Gabriel, I’ve been to the hacienda before, and it’s this big, beautiful house,” Kelly said cheerfully. “Sort of Spanish style with a tile roof and everything. Plus you can see the grapevines. Brenna—that’s Francesca’s sister—said I could come down and watch them bottling. Only not today because it’s a holiday.”
“Slackers,” Gabriel muttered.
Sam shot him a warning glance.
“Francesca said her whole family would be at the party,” Kelly continued. “Along with a lot of friends. She has three sisters, but only two of them are going to be there. Her youngest sister, Mia, is in Washington, D.C., studying Japanese. She’s supposed to be this really amazing language expert. And Francesca’s older sister, Katie, is getting married. She’s the one I told you about, Sam. I’m going to help with her dress. It’s so beautiful. Isn’t it like totally cool that they all work on it so when she walks down the aisle she can know that all her sisters and her mom and her grandmothers helped?”
“Too many damn people if you ask me,” Gabriel grumbled.
Kelly ignored his ill temper. “Up there,” she said, pointing. “See the sign?”
He did. An arch proclaimed MARCELLI WINES. The turnoff from the highway was a long, narrow road. After about a quarter mile a sign pointed toward the tasting room and public areas of the winery. Sam turned in the opposite direction.
Kelly continued to bounce. “Do you see the house? Do you?”
“Not yet.”
Then he did. The large structure in the distance surprised him. While he’d known that Francesca was a part of Marcelli Wines, he never actually thought about where she’d grown up.
The stucco house stood on a slight rise. Several other smaller buildings were clustered all around. But what really caught his attention were the grapevines stretching out in neat rows, for as far as the eye could see.
Sam enjoyed wine and knew what he liked, but the process of turning grapes on the vine to Cabernet Sauvignon in the bottle was a mystery to him.
