Hardly.
It’s been a sensual trip up against a wall, a risky encounter in the pool house and again in the vineyard. All bring the hint of a smile to my lips even now, pushing out the stress of the new arrivals.
My veins instantly fire up, lust heating a path straight to my groin. Its intensity is at odds with the fact that she took me to the edge last night. And all through the game of cards I watched those fingers, those lips, those eyes and remembered what we’d shared. I was so badly distracted that I lost the game. And I never lose.
It was something which Dani commented on as she pulled me aside before bed and advised me to talk to our mother. I almost laughed. How would she feel to know the truth—that it wasn’t Marianna on my mind during the card game. It was her far too appealing maid of honour who also wanted to push the same advice?
Talk. I’ve done enough talking with Faye already, telling a woman I barely know things that I can hardly get a handle on myself. All this by day two of seven. What am I going to share in the next five?
The sound of raised voices invades the sanctity of my bedroom and I snap to attention, my eyes on the closed door as though I can see through it. Not that I need to.
Aunt Netta and Marianna.
At war already.
I pocket my phone and give the mirror a second’s glance. Black linen shirt, chinos, and I’ve forked some product through my hair. My eyes are remarkably clear, no sign in them of the restless night I endured. All perfectly presentable for an afternoon and evening of entertaining...or refereeing.
As I open the door, the voices hit me harder, louder, and I pick up my pace. What is wrong with my family? What did I do in a previous life to deserve this?
I hit the stairs when the noise tapers off and I slow my stride. My eyes lift to the entrance, to the two women who not one minute ago had been making enough noise to shake the rafters. But they are quietly listening to someone else. Someone I can’t see. And then they are talking. Actually talking. With smiles. Real, genuine smiles.
I leave the stairs and make my way across the entrance hall.
‘She’s a miracle worker, whoever she is.’
I turn to see Sienna walking up to me, her grin wide and welcoming.
‘Cousin! It’s good to see you.’ We embrace, kiss cheeks and she adds an extra-tight squeeze before giving me a slap to the chest.
‘It’s been far too long, Rafael. I’m almost surprised to see you.’
‘Don’t you start.’
She laughs. ‘You’re right, I’ll save it for after we’ve sampled the vineyard’s finest.’
She elbows me in the side and nods to the entrance. ‘So, who’s the stunning brunette currently wooing Mamma and Aunt Marianna into silence?’
We start to walk to the entrance and, though I can’t see her, instinct tells me that Faye is involved. Even without my cousin’s apt description.
‘Let’s go take a look. Where are the kids? Lorenzo?’
‘Leo had an incident with an ice-cream so Lorenzo’s getting him changed, and Isabella decided to change before the tour. Seems she’s ten going on twenty.’
I laugh at her eye-roll. ‘Takes after her mother, then.’
‘More like her grandmother and great-aunt. Do you think the two of them realise how alike they are? Though your mother is a tad less...flamboyant. If I’m honest, I’d also be changing, if not for the slanging match.’
‘You and me both.’
‘And it seems we needn’t have bothered.’ As we round the corner, all three ladies are laughing. Laughing!
‘Si, si...and then I said, you know what else looks like a monkey’s bottom?’ Aunt Netta is positively rumbling as she says it and then she spies us approaching. ‘Shh...shh...we have an intruder in our midst! Rafael, regazzo mio, it’s so wonderful to finally see you again.’
She bustles through the middle of the women, heading straight for me, her cheeks aglow, her dress almost an exact copy of my mother’s, only hers is neon pink to Marianna’s pastel shade. ‘Let me look at you.’
Her hands are already launching into the air and I have the awful feeling she’s about to... Too late. She’s already pinching my cheeks and I’m cursing my own stupidity for leaning down.
I hear a stifled giggle and look over the curly mass piled high on her head to see Faye biting her lip. I’m not going red. I’m not. I’m a forty-two-year-old man; I don’t blush. It’s the sun, the heat...it’s Faye, all Faye. My dawning frown quits as Aunt Netta pulls me in for a hug and then thrusts me back so she can stare up at me.