The Sparkling One
Page 19

His words made her shiver, which only proved she was a fool.
She stepped back and straightened her jacket. “This was great and all, but I really have to run.”
“You could come back to my place.”
The invitation, delivered in a sensually husky voice, made her knees melt. She had to consciously force her muscles to tighten so she wouldn’t collapse in a heap.
“I could, but I won’t. Thanks for asking, though.”
“Want a rain check?”
She risked glancing at him. His dark blue eyes were bright with passion, his lips were still swollen. He looked impossibly sexy and irresistible. Giving in made perfect sense. No one would blame her.
“This is L.A.,” she said. “We don’t actually get rain.”
“You’re afraid.”
“I’m smart.”
“And scared.”
As they both knew that was the truth; she didn’t see any point in admitting it. “Let’s just say I don’t trust you.”
She picked up her briefcase and made a timely retreat. Because ten more seconds in his company would put her on the verge of giving in, and she couldn’t risk that.
Mia stood up from her place at the kitchen table and stretched to relieve the muscles in her back. Too many hours spent hunched over a book, she thought. She crossed to the calendar posted on the refrigerator door, where she checked off another two-hour block of study. She only had a week until finals. As usual, she’d prepared a schedule dividing up her non-classroom time into review sessions. Also, as usual, she was right on schedule.
Thanks to Katie, she thought, her gaze straying to a picture of all four Marcelli girls standing together in the middle of a vineyard. Her sister had always been the most organized student, and she’d passed all her tricks along to Mia.
A knock on the door made her turn. She knew instantly who stood in the hallway of her apartment building. She wrestled with two parts anticipation and one part apprehension.
She crossed to the door and opened it.
“Before you say anything,” David told her as he entered, “I’m only staying thirty minutes. We need to stay focused on finals. But I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
She studied his familiar face, the blue eyes that she’d noticed right off, and the way his blond hair always fell across his forehead.
He held up a white bag. “I got your favorites,” he said. “Just yesterday I was reading that sugar helps with mental acuity.”
She glanced from the bag containing Baskin-Robbins ice cream to David. Apprehension faded as love swelled to take its place.
For the past few weeks, ever since they’d tried to shop for the gift registry, things had been kind of twisted between them. Not wrong, exactly, but not right, either. The fight had changed things. They’d been seeing each other, but the seeing had been strained.
Suddenly everything felt right again. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. He dropped the ice-cream bag and pulled her hard against him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, suddenly fighting tears.
“Me, too.” He kissed her. “I love you, Mia.”
“I love you more.”
He smiled at the familiar joke. She continued to cling to him, needing to crawl inside and be a part of him. Whatever else went wrong in her life, being with David was always right.
10
Z ach arrived at the Marcelli hacienda shortly before five. The house calls were killing his billable hours, but he willingly accepted that. After all, there was a greater good to consider. Besides, he could feel time ticking away. It had been six weeks since David and Mia had announced their engagement. Six weeks during which he’d made little progress toward breaking up the happy couple.
A recent spat between them had given him hope, but David had called to tell him they’d made up. Katie had yet to see the light, and he found himself spending as much time thinking about getting her into bed as getting her on his side.
Brenna was a potential ally, but she was too caught up in her own personal grief to be of much help. So despite a plan to find a fellow dissenter in the enemy camp, he was still on his own.
He parked and collected his paperwork, then walked to the front door of the hacienda. Brenna met him there, looking dark-eyed and tragic. Despite her olive complexion, she appeared pale. Shadows stained the skin under her eyes, and there were new lines by the corners of her mouth. Divorce did not agree with her.
“Thanks for coming,” she said as she stepped back to invite him into the house. “I know I really need to start driving down to L.A., but right now that seems like an impossible task.”
“You haven’t been back to the apartment to collect your belongings?”
She gave a strangled laugh. “What is there to collect? Some old clothes and costume jewelry?”
“Stereo, television, a clock radio, whatever was yours to begin with.”
She frowned slightly. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you have a point. I guess I should force myself to check out the place. I can’t imagine Jeff would do anything to my things, but then I never thought he’d want a divorce, either.”
He’d heard of a whole lot worse. “If you find anything missing, I’ll need a complete inventory of what’s not there. Wanting to end the marriage doesn’t give him the right to destroy your personal property.”
She nodded listlessly, as if the entire process would take more energy than she had, then pointed to the living room.
“Do you want to work in there?”
“Somewhere with a table would be better.”
He had plenty of papers for her to review and some news that wasn’t going to brighten her day. It would piss off the family, as well.
Brenna led the way into the kitchen. Zach was surprised to find it bustling with activity. The taller of the two grandmothers—Tessa, he thought—stirred something at the stove, while Mary-Margaret O’Shea kneaded bread dough. Neither woman noticed them.
Grammy M, as Katie called her, used her forearm to brush back a loose curl. “I’ll be needin’ the oven, Tessa. When I’ve finished with the bread, the sweet rolls will be wantin’ to bake.”
Grandma Tessa peered at the temperature setting. “It’s ready now.” She started to say something else, but spotted him and Brenna instead. “Zach, how good to see you.”
She abandoned her efforts at the stove and hurried toward him. Between his briefcase and the stack of files he carried, he didn’t have a free hand. Not that he would be able to ward off her enthusiastic greeting. He was summarily hugged, patted, and cheek-pinched. Grammy M—so tiny she barely came up to his chest—followed, although she only squeezed his arm instead of his cheek. They both spoke at once, one offering tea, the other Italian cookies, or maybe a nice dish of pasta. The combination of warm Italian staccato and lilting Irish brogue should have jarred his ears, but he’d grown used to the odd melody.
“Nothing for me, thanks. I’m fine,” he said, depositing his briefcase in a chair and his files on the table.
They both ignored his statement. Within a minute a steaming cup of tea had been set at the head of the table and right next to it was a plate piled high with cookies. A mug of tea was pressed into Brenna’s hands. She cradled it as she took a seat next to his. Zach settled into the chair obviously assigned to him and reached for his paperwork.
Grandma Tessa and Grammy M hovered by the table. He glanced at the bread dough now resting in a covered bowl, then at the stove. Nothing else appeared to be cooking. And whatever Grammy M had put in the oven was there to stay for a while. He hesitated, not used to conducting business with an audience, but Brenna didn’t seem to notice. Finally he glanced at his client.
“Will we be in the way here? Should we move to another room?”
Brenna roused herself enough to shake her head. “I like the emotional hand-holding. Besides, they’re going to find out everything anyway,” she said quietly. “Having the Grands here will mean two less tellings of the story. You’re lucky the whole family isn’t attending.” She glanced at her watch. “Katie’s not coming because she’s busy with work, but Francesca should be here any minute. Not that we have to wait for her. I didn’t tell Mia because she’s busy with finals this week and I didn’t want to upset her.”
He had a couple of socialite clients who brought their rat dogs to meetings, and a famous actor who traveled everywhere with a publicist, business manager, and assistant, but very few people had a familial entourage. Somehow he thought the Grands were going to be a whole lot more helpful to Brenna than a pet or a personal assistant.
Zach was about to begin when Colleen Marcelli walked into the kitchen.
“Have I missed anything?” she asked, moving first to her daughter, where she bent low and kissed her cheek, then to Zach. She lightly touched his shoulder and gave him a warm smile before taking the seat across from Brenna and settling in to listen.
“We’re just starting,” Brenna said.
Colleen nodded. She was a well-dressed woman in her mid-forties, although she looked much younger. She’d inherited her mother’s blue eyes, along with Grammy M’s delicate build.
“I thought it best not to include your father,” she said, nodding when Grammy M offered tea. “You know how much he can yell. Marco and your grandfather are already talking about altering Jeff’s manhood—such as it is.” She sighed. “I didn’t think any of us needed to hear the details again.”
“I’d rather not,” Brenna said ruefully. “Everyone welcomed him into the family when I married him, but now all I hear is how you all had your suspicions.”
Colleen nodded sympathetically. She stretched her hand across the table to squeeze her daughter’s arm. Zach waited it all out. He was used to emotional clients—sobbing, even fits of rage weren’t uncommon in his line of work. Compared with that, a quiet, rational family looking on was no big deal.
He cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Grammy M put a cup of tea in front of her daughter, then took a seat at the table. Grandma Tessa did the same, but instead of liquid refreshment, she brought a basket with her. He eyed the container, wondering what on earth they could be planning—and then he knew.
Sure enough, lace flowers were passed around. Bowls of beads and seed pearls were set in the center of the table, and all the women, even Brenna, started sewing.
Light caught the tiny beads. Female fingers worked with a sure swiftness that came from hours of practice. Zach didn’t want to think about what the lace was for, so he returned his attention to the business at hand—namely Brenna’s divorce—and sorted through the files he’d brought.
He glanced at her. “Take a deep breath and relax,” he said gently. “Most of what we have to discuss is fairly standard. The only unusual issue to turn up so far is that Jeff is claiming half of your share of the winery.”
He braced himself as he spoke, knowing he’d just dropped a bomb on the entire family. As expected, conversation exploded around him. He didn’t bother to compete, instead letting them express their outrage. Grandma Tessa sprang to her feet and announced that her late father-inlaw (God rest his soul) had started the winery, breaking the ground with his own bare hands, and no lying, cheating—She began muttering in Italian. Grammy M’s eyes narrowed in an expression of fury that made Zach want to inch away. Colleen looked just as ready to skin Brenna’s soon-to-be ex-husband, while Brenna simply appeared stunned.
When the talk died down, he turned his attention to his client. “This is a ploy. Jeff and his lawyer want to distract us from the real issue—namely how long you supported Jeff through his medical training. Any inheritance you received wouldn’t be considered community property unless it was commingled in some kind of joint account, with joint funds.”