Chapter Eleven

“My fath—” Brody stopped himself, unable to call a man he’d never even laid eyes on ‘father.’ “Gian and Aldo were close, right? I find it hard to believe they never discussed Elliott’s sudden appearance. Do you think Aldo is telling us all he knows?”

“Not everything,” Tori conceded, her voice low.

They were on the path to the house again, having left Aldo in the caves to continue riddling bottles. It was pitch dark now. The only light came from the low voltage yard lights and a moon sulking behind patchy clouds.

“I don’t think he’s lying exactly,” she continued. “There was something about Gian Hawke that was, well, different. I doubt if anyone truly knew him, not even those closest to him like Aldo.”

Brody noticed she didn’t mention Elliott, but he didn’t question Tori. Bringing up his brother was like pulling a screen down between Tori and himself. While Brody sensed something about her relationship with Elliott troubled her, she was wearing his ring and seemed to be a very loyal woman.

“Aldo may believe Gian’s death was accidental,” Brody told her, “but I still think it was murder.”

“Why?”

“Put it down to my sixth sense.” He didn’t want to alarm Tori by telling her how much death he’d seen in his career. Intuition told him this was a sensitive subject with her. “I’ll know more when I talk to the sheriff tomorrow.”

Tori didn’t respond, leaving him wondering what she really thought about Gian’s death. They’d come to a spot in the trail where a side path had been worn in the dirt.

“Where does this lead?” he asked.

“To Look Out Point,” she said. “There’s a beautiful vista of the entire vineyard not far from here.”

Without asking, he took her arm and guided her down the side trail. The moon had ducked out from behind the clouds and proudly rode the crest of the hills, spilling shimmering light onto the valley below. Ahead, he saw the flat area at the edge of a bluff where over time people had worn bare a spot in the grass. In the distance, he could make out the grapevines trellising the hills like a spider’s web.

They stopped and silently gazed out at a view which was impressive at night and must be nothing short of spectacular during the day. Not one for sentimental feelings, Brody had to admit Hawke’s Landing had something compelling about it. He wished he had more time to explore the property and really get to know Hawke’s Landing the way Elliott did.

A thrashing in the underbrush brought Brody around in a single breath. He faced the intruder, automatically reaching for the gun he wasn’t wearing.

Tori grabbed his arm. “It’s just Piny. He’s come to find me.”

Brody took a deep breath and relaxed, his fingers still twitching for a gun. A black Labrador had emerged from the bushes wagging his tail, a full-time occupation for retrievers.

“Your dog came this far?” he asked.

“It’s not as far as it seems. Fire is a big hazard in the wine country. Dirt fire roads link the entire area.” She leaned down to pet her dog. “Piny and I have hiked over here many times.”

“Really?” Brody filed that information away. He’d spotted the skein of fire roads earlier when he’d been out with Elliott, but he didn’t realize how extensive they were.

“You’re really jumpy,” Tori commented.

A lot could be said for superb training, but scaring the woman you were with wasn’t one of them, he thought as the shocked look on Tori’s face registered with him.

“Who were you expecting?” she asked as she stroked the retriever who was obediently sitting at her feet.

“No one.” He shrugged and tried for a reassuring smile. “Just basic instinct.”

“Basic instinct?”

“Training,” he amended. “SEAL training. Sorry if I frightened you.”

Two long beats of silence. Tori shivered, her hair shifting across her shoulders in a way he found extremely provocative. She cast him a sideways glance, the silvery sheen of the moon’s light reflected in her eyes.

“You’re cold.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it around her. He tried to make it an impersonal gesture, something he would have done for his mother. But failed miserably.

Drawing the jacket around her, Brody couldn’t resist lifting her long hair with one hand, savoring its texture and softness as it slid through his fingers. She lowered her gaze, shielding her eyes beneath long, wispy lashes. Nervously, she brushed her lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

Her mouth was so inviting, so close.

The back of his fingers grazed her neck. As he touched her, Brody thought she leaned just a little closer, anticipating. Anticipating what? A kiss?

Tori tried to pull away, to break the moment. But she couldn’t, she honestly couldn’t. Some unknown force held her in place, waiting … hoping.

Brody tipped her head back with a gentle upturn of his index finger under her chin. Again, the moonlight caught in her eyes, firing them with a sensuous inner light.

Aw, hell. He still didn’t have a clue what she was thinking. And his body didn’t seem to care. With his free arm, he pulled her closer until her warm breasts were brushing his torso and sending a very urgent message down to his groin.

Tori silently begged, Kiss me, Brody. Kiss me before I tell you to stop.

Go easy, he told himself. Go easy.

This is your brother’s fiancée, whispered an inner voice. He ignored the warning, his own need more powerful. Since their first kiss in the gazebo, he’d been aching to kiss her again.

His lips gently met hers as he held himself in check. He made sure there was no fierceness to his kiss, only a gentle seeking sweetness—or so he assured himself. Once again, he was frustrated by his past, a lifetime of brief, sexual encounters with women that left him perplexed about how to handle himself now.

Beneath his lips, her mouth parted and her tongue grazed his lower lip. It was a shy, almost timid gesture, but it kicked up his pulse several notches. Before he realized it, his grip changed and he was holding her much more tightly than necessary.

With a sigh of surrender, Tori snuggled closer, not minding the rough way he was holding her, the once sweet kiss now almost savage. His tongue had captured hers and was engaged in an erotic parody of what her body really craved.

All of her. That’s what he really wanted, Brody decided.

His. And his alone.

Easy, easy something inside him cautioned. He forced himself to relax his grip, but he kept kissing her while he lightly traced the outline of her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Her skin was warm and softer than he could have ever imagined. A fresh floral scent rose from between her breasts, filling his lungs and intoxicating him.

Stop this! Tori had never meant to allow him to kiss her again. She’d truly believed the first time had been nothing more than mistaken identity. But now, in his arms, she wondered if this wasn’t exactly what she’d subconsciously planned to happen all along.

Stop this! her brain repeated. Again, her body did not respond. She knew better than to allow herself to become attracted to Brody. Not only was she engaged to his brother, but Brody was the exact opposite of the type of man she needed.

He was a risk taker, a daredevil who lived to flirt with death. Just like Connor.

The thought of her late husband gave her the strength she’d lacked seconds ago. The hurt and unhappiness came flooding through her like a tidal wave. She pulled back with a jerk.

“Stop!” she managed to say.

Brody smiled down at her, a devilish little boy grin that she couldn’t help finding adorable. She tried not to return his smile, but couldn’t stop herself. He straightened the lapels of the jacket he’d draped around her shoulders and stared down at her.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, catching her completely off guard.

There was an edge to his husky voice that was sexy, yet intimidating. She’d misread him entirely. Betrayed by her own body, she’d believed sex was all he had on his mind.

She was slow to respond, “Nothing, really.” Before she could stop herself, she blurted out the truth. “My father’s doing a special piece for the San Francisco Herald on Gian’s death. Dad’s former editor called and asked him to investigate. His editor suspects Gian may have been murdered.”

Brody nodded, recalling Lou Edwards telling him he’d been an investigative reporter for a San Francisco newspaper before he’d retired to run a bed and breakfast in the wine country. “Why didn’t your father tell me?”

“He wants to make quiet inquires,” she replied. “After all, I’m engaged to Elliott. We don’t want to upset the family.

What about me? Brody wondered. Then he told himself this woman, whose tempting body was brushing against his, loved his brother. Not him.

“Thanks for telling me,” he said. But he couldn’t bring himself to release her. Instead, he kept his hands on her shoulders, holding her close.

“How long ago did you see them heading this way?” Elliott asked Rachel.

He thought he managed to keep the concern out of his voice. There was something about the way Brody and Tori acted toward each other that bothered him.

Except for his first glimpse of them at the funeral, they’d kept their distance from each other—too much distance. Brody didn’t know anyone, yet he talked to strangers even when Tori was standing off to the side by herself, close enough for him to approach without going out of his way.

Even more troubling, he’d caught Tori watching Brody when she thought no one was looking. This is crazy, Elliott told himself. Tori just met Brody. She wasn’t the type of woman to take up with a man so quickly.

“I guess I saw them over an hour ago,” Rachel responded.

Elliott decided there had to be a reasonable explanation for their being together. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he refused to let his imagination get the best of him.

In the darkness, the hills were nothing more than darker shadows in the distance. The moon cast a blue-white glow on the dense shrubbery along the trail. A harbinger of the coming winter, a brittle wind swept down from the ridge for which the vineyard had been named.

“Do you think Tori was showing him the vineyards?”

Rachel waited a long moment before answering his question. She already had Elliott’s suspicion aroused. Now she needed to capitalize on it. “I think they’re probably out there … somewhere.”

“Hmmm,” Elliott muttered and Rachel couldn’t decide if her insinuation had the desired effect.

They turned right and took the flagstone path on the rise above the section of Hawke’s Landing where the oldest of the chardonnay grapes had been planted. These older vines were thick at the base like the trunk of a tree and had gnarled branches that stretched upward toward the wires that held the younger, more vulnerable shoots in place. The vines had been stripped of their fruit, so they had a rather forlorn look. Soon they would be pruned back, cut down close to their already broad bases.

“What’s that?” Elliott asked, stopping suddenly.

“What?”

“Listen. Voices.” He cocked his head for a moment, then pointed. “It’s coming from over there.”

Rachel had run these trails since she’d been a child. The voices had to be coming from around the bend at Look Out Point. Rachel cursed her bad luck. She was hoping to wander in the vineyards for a long time with Elliott. If he came upon Tori and Brody talking, what would she gain?

Elliott picked up the pace and told himself not to go off half-cocked. There was probably a reasonable explanation for why they were out here alone. His more rational side taunted him. Why would they be out here where it’s cold, in the dark—at Lookout Point—of all places?

He rounded the bend and saw Tori and Brody standing together, facing each other. Like a sucker punch to the gut, jealousy nearly knocked Elliott backward. His brother and his fiancée were standing so close that you couldn’t have jammed a ruler between them.

They weren’t kissing, but Brody had his hands on Tori’s shoulders and she was gazing up at him as if he’d hung the moon. They were so wrapped up in each other they hadn’t heard them approaching.

Rachel caught his arm, then whispered, her lips moving softly against his ear. “Maybe we shouldn’t interrupt.”

The second the words were out of her mouth, Brody swung around to face them. The fierce glint in his brother’s eye reminded Elliott this man was trained to fight. He’d killed six men, four of them with his bare hands.

“The Corelli brothers,” Rachel reminded Elliott, her voice low, yet filled with the urgency of their mission.

It took all his willpower, but Elliott managed to harness the fury coursing through his veins. Even though he longed to slam his fist into his brother’s face, he couldn’t afford to alienate Brody right now.

“Hey, Brody. I’ve been looking for you.” Elliott congratulated himself for making his voice sound normal.

Brody walked toward him, Tori and Piny at his heels. This close, Elliott could see their faces better. Tori seemed to be a little flushed, but Brody’s expression was as inscrutable as always.

“Come on, Brody.” Rachel took up the slack, when Elliott found himself unable to speak. “We want you to meet the Corelli brothers.”

Tori silently cursed herself for not pulling Elliott aside and giving him back his ring. But with the crush of people, today had not seemed to be the right time. Now, he might think her decision had something to do with his brother—when it hadn’t. She’d made Brody stop kissing her. Nothing had happened, but guilt made her ashamed of herself.

She followed them back down the path toward the house. Elliott and Brody went ahead as Elliott told his twin about the Corellis. Rachel walked beside Tori, ignoring her the way she usually did, but Tori hadn’t missed the cunning smile on Rachel’s face when they’d caught her in Brody’s arms.

“It’s getting late,” Tori said as they neared the house. “I’m taking Piny home.”

“Do you have a ride?” Elliott asked, his voice cool.

“Yes. Dad left me the car. Some friends gave him a lift.”

Elliott kissed her on the cheek instead of the lips. “Drive carefully especially around Dead Man’s Drop.”

He might have added more, but Rachel interrupted. “The Corellis are waiting.”

Tori left them and walked to the place where her father had parked the BMW. She opened the passenger door and let Piny jump in, then went to the driver’s side and drove off, trying to analyze her emotions.

The curves on the private road that led to the main highway were treacherous. Considering all the tourists that came to tour the vineyard, Tori was surprised they hadn’t paved the road or at least put down an asphalt topping, but they hadn’t. She supposed Gian had decided rustic charm gave a certain ambiance to Hawke’s Landing other vineyards lacked. It seemed just like him.

Driving slowly and forcing herself to be brutally honest about how she felt, Tori had to admit she was incredibly attracted to Brody—just the way she’d been drawn to Connor.

She’d known Connor’s occupation was hazardous and it would require him to spend time away from home performing stunts on various locations. She’d always dreamed of a safe haven, a loving, close-knit family like the one she’d enjoyed until her mother’s early death. Despite her misgivings about his dangerous occupation, she’d married Connor.

“What you see is what you get,” she said to Piny. The dog cocked his head as if he understood every word.

What she’d gotten was the opposite of her dream. Connor was exactly as he’d appeared. She’d been alone much more than she’d anticipated, and even the long hours she’d spent with her successful career in a prestigious graphic arts firm couldn’t make up for the lonely nights and lack of a family life.

When Connor had broken his leg in two places performing one of his over-the-top stunts, he’d been forced to stay home for six weeks. She’d mistakenly thought the injury, which narrowly missed killing him, would force Connor to take an easier job doing less risky stunts for television programs being filmed in Los Angeles.

“What an idiot I was.” She marveled at her own stupidity. She had foolishly believed Connor would change for her. “Connor had a mistress, and I couldn’t compete with her.”

His mistress wasn’t a woman, it was the adrenaline rush he felt while taking risks. He’d recuperated from his injury by watching videos and analyzing stunts other men performed. When she’d tried to discuss the state of their marriage, he’d put her off saying, “You know I love you, babe, but this is my career. This is what I do.”

The subtext had been: This is what I live for.

Because she loved him, she stayed with him, terrified each time he left that he might never return. Then one day, her worst fears became reality. Connor had been killed while performing an impossible stunt for the latest James Bond movie.

The second she’d received the news, something had died within her. The light she’d always seen in the world around her became a shade dimmer.

“It’s still dim,” she muttered to Piny, and reminded herself to concentrate on the treacherous road.

Her father had come to LA to help with the funeral arrangements. After Connor’s ashes had been scattered over Universal Studios by a stunt pilot flying upside down and doing backflips, his buddies had given him a wake that must have left them with a month-long hangover.

Tori hardly could pull herself together to go to work. It seemed as if she had been trapped at the bottom of the ocean without a ray of light penetrating the deep water. She kept attempting to swim to the surface, but she seemed to be anchored to the bottom with weights she could feel, but couldn’t see.

“You can’t go forward,” her father had told her, “if you keep looking back. It doesn’t do any good to live in the past. Connor is dead. You’re alive.”

She’d resigned her position and moved to the wine country to be near her father. He’d given her the carriage house at Silver Moon, the gracious Victorian mansion he’d lovingly restored and was running as a bed and breakfast. She’d opened her own graphics firm in a small office in town.

During the following years, she’d found a measure of peace. Her business had steadily increased and with it her reputation. It was a satisfying feeling, but it wasn’t enough.

She slowed the car to a crawl as she went into the hairpin curve.

“Grr, grr,” Piny cautioned her, swaying to one side as she took the turn.

“It’s okay, boy,” she assured him, her thoughts on her late husband.

Dead Man’s Drop was exactly the death-defying type of curve Connor would have used in his stunts. It would be so easy to plunge over the cliff at the apex of the curve.

Where had that morbid thought come from? Even at her lowest point, she hadn’t been suicidal. She negotiated the sharp turn, then pressed on the accelerator as she came out of it and entered the straight away.

“What about Elliott?” she asked herself.

They’d met several years ago at the Napa Valley Wine Auction where she’d gone to see one of her clients. She’d designed a new logo for his vineyard and did all his advertising graphics. Elliott Hawke had been impressed with her work. Gian had not.

When Elliott called and asked her out, she went despite having taken an instant dislike to his abrasive father. They began dating casually and infrequently at first, but over time, their relationship changed. Even though there was a side to Elliott that she couldn’t quite reach, she knew he was a good, honest person. A family man.

It hadn’t taken much to convince herself that she loved him. Luckily, she hadn’t made the mistake of marrying him before she realized she no longer had the capacity to love Elliott the way he deserved to be loved. Considering what had gone on with Brody tonight, she wondered if she was forever doomed to be attracted to risk takers like the daredevil who’d broken her heart.