“Well, I’ll let you eat your breakfast.” Stefano needed to get away—to get some fresh air to clear his thoughts.
His grandfather didn’t say a word as he sipped at his caffè.
At last, Jules turned to Stefano as though she’d just remembered his presence. “I shouldn’t have slept so late. Lizzie will be here at lunch so that we can get started with the wedding plans.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your planning.” He slipped out the door feeling torn between the relief of escaping and the disappointment that he wouldn’t see her again until dinner.
“I WAS BEGINNING to think that I’d never find you.” Jules strode up to Stefano. She’d just about given up when she spotted him checking the vines.
He furrowed his brow. “I thought you’d be inside making wedding plans with Lizzie.”
“She canceled it.”
“The wedding—”
“No. It’s still on.” Heat rushed up and filled Jules’s face. “I meant she canceled our plans for today. She said that she had to stick around the restaurant for a video conference with the people at the studio. Something about finalizing some details for next week’s taping. They sure have a lot of meetings for a reality show.”
Stefano stepped away from the grapevines and joined Jules in the rutted dirt path. “That show seems to take up more and more of their time. When my brother started coming home less and less on the weekends, he blamed it on filming conflicts. Me, personally, I thought it was because he wanted alone time with Lizzie, but it seems now he’s been telling the truth.”
“That’s too bad. But at least they’re happy. And I suppose it won’t last forever. This is their fifteen minutes of fame.”
He dusted his hands off on his faded jeans. “I was just heading back to the barn.”
“The barn?”
He pointed to a large building off in the distance with a stone facade. “It’s where we produce the wine. Beneath it is the barrel cellar.”
“Do you mind if I tag along? There’s something I want to ask you.” Since Lizzie couldn’t drive out to the vineyard, she’d asked if Jules would mind meeting them in Rome the next day. It sounded important, but Lizzie had been very closemouthed and said they’d talk at dinner.
“Sure. Come on.” They fell in step, side by side. “What’s on your mind?”
The thought of begging him for a ride into the city didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t like relying on others. Lizzie had said to bring Stefano along, but with all the work he had to do, would he want to drive all that way just to have dinner? She decided to put off asking him. She was enjoying his good mood, and this was her chance to get to know him a little better.
“It’s big.” She pointed to the wine barn. “Really big.”
“It wasn’t always that size. My father and I have done a lot to expand the business. Although we made a point of keeping the outside looking traditional, the inside has been totally modernized. We want to grow DeFiore winery into a household name. Hopefully it can be passed on from generation to generation.”
“I’m sure your children will appreciate all of your efforts—”
“I don’t have kids.” His quick response caught her off guard.
“I kinda guessed that. But you will as soon as you meet the right woman. Isn’t that what all of this is for?”
“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe Dante’s kids will take an interest in the business.”
Jules glanced over at him, noticing the strained look on his face as he kept his line of vision straight ahead. She wondered about his strong reaction to the thought of having kids.
Maybe it had something to do with her surprise in finding that she was the only woman aside from Maria living at the villa. Where were the women? Stefano was very handsome. In fact, if she were looking for fun beneath the Italian sun, he’d be first on her list. Was he still mourning his wife? Not that it was any of her business. But still she was curious.
“How about you?” Stefano’s voice drew her out of her thoughts.
“What?”
“Are you interested in having a family?”
He was the first person to ask her that question. Not even Lizzie had asked her. And she supposed she owed him some sort of answer since she’d brought up the subject in the first place.
“Do I look like mother material?”
“Sure. I guess.”
“You aren’t even looking at me.”
He stopped walking and turned to her. Silence ensued as he stared at her. “I think that beneath all of that makeup lies a beautiful woman who can have whatever she sets her mind on.”
Her heart stopped. He thought she was beautiful? This was yet another thing that no one had ever said to her. What did she say now?
She moved her tongue from where it was stuck to the top of her mouth, hoping her voice would work. “Thanks. But you don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”
“I’m not.” His eyes darkened as he continued to stare at her as though he was truly seeing her. “There’s something special about you.”
A fluttering sensation filled her chest, and all she could think about was sinking into his arms and finding out if his kisses were as romantic as the ones she watched in the black-and-white movies that played late at night when she was alone while her friends were out on dates.
“I’m out of the loop on what’s in style as far as women’s fashions. I suppose that the makeup and dark clothes are a fashion statement.”
Jules glanced down at her black-on-black ensemble. She never really stopped to think about her appearance. She’d been dressing like this for so many years that it was just natural for her. It hid the ugly scars that lurked beneath—a reminder of a part of her life that was best left hidden and buried.
“Actually, it’s just my style.”
“I see. It...it’s different from how the women in these parts dress. In the village, things are more simplistic than you’ll find in Rome or Milan.”
Normally she’d have taken that as an insult, but he’d already said he thought she was beautiful...beneath the makeup. So maybe he was just stating a fact. She stood out around here. But she didn’t have anything else to wear—anything that would make her fit in better. Not that she planned to—fit in, that is.
She toyed with a loose thread on the hem of her top. “It’s just so different back in New York. It’s like a melting pot of styles and trends.”
“I can imagine. But I’m confused. What does your appearance have to do with you becoming a mother?”
Back to that subject—the one she didn’t want to delve into. “I’m not having kids.”
“As in ever?”
“As in never ever. I wouldn’t have a clue how to be a good mother.” And there she’d gone and blurted out more than she’d intended to say—more than she normally shared with anyone.
Stefano started walking again toward the barn, and she fell in step