Free The Sicilian's Bride by Carol Grace

the hall.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked, tugging on the lapels of her robe. Why had she opened the door without asking who was there? She could only blame it on her sense of security here in this small hotel in this small town. Now that she realized it could have been a serial killer outside her door, she felt her face turn red with embarrassment. What must this man think of her? Not only did she appear to be a clueless heiress, but she was so naive and trusting she’d opened her hotel door without question to a stranger.
    “I came to bring back your bag,” he said while his gaze took in the wide-open lapels of her robe. “My grandmother told me how you saved her peaches and her honey. She said to thank you very much.”
    “Your grandmother? I had no idea. How did she know…?”
    “That it was you? She didn’t. But your name is inside the case.”
    “Oh,” she said weakly trying to take it all in while she clutched at the front of her robe with one hand and tightened the towel around her head with the other. His grandmother was obviously the tiny little woman in the store.
    She didn’t invite him in, but Dario stepped inside the room anyway. “I have some news for you about your workers,” he said, taking a small leather notebook from his jacket pocket. He must have noticed she wasn’t dressed for company, but he didn’t care. How typical of him to pursue his own ends and ignore whatever got in his way.
    Purposefully he strode past the queen-size bed covered with a pale-green duvet and the antique writing desk, stopped at the round table at the window, took a seat and spread out some papers.
    The only thing Isabel could do was sit down across from him as if they were having a business meeting, which they were, except she was hardly dressed or mentally prepared for one. If he’d planned to catch her unawares, and spring some new scheme on her, he’d picked the right time. Her brain was muddled and confused. But her resolve was as firm as ever.
    She sat up ramrod-straight in the padded chair and tried to pay attention to what Dario said when all she could think about was how her skin tingled from the bath and how little distance was between the two of them. She felt trapped in the masculine aura that seemed to surround him. There was no way for her to escape or to try to change clothes withoutlooking like a complete idiot. If it didn’t bother him that she was wearing a robe and nothing else, why should it bother her? He surely wouldn’t stay long.
    “I found you a crew of workers.” He pushed a list of names across the table in her direction.
    “Good,” she said. The names were a blur. “Who are they?”
    “Old-timers. Men who know their way around the Azienda. They’ll be up there tomorrow morning at eight.”
    “Fine.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She might pull this off after all. “How much do they get paid?”
    “That depends on their job. Some operate the crushing machine, some the fermenter. They’re good men, but you have to be there to supervise them, otherwise they’ll take advantage of you.”
    Isabel blinked rapidly. More men who wanted to take advantage of her? What had she gotten herself into? All she could see was fifty-dollar bottles of Amarado on the shelves without any clear idea of how they got there. She had to keep up a brave front.
    “But where…how…?”
    “The machinery is in the barn. As far as I know, it still works, but just barely.”
    “I didn’t see any barn.”
    “You weren’t looking. It’s there behind the grove of trees behind the house.”
    “Oh, yes, of course,” she said.
    “The men expect to be paid in cash. I’ve written down the hourly rate for each man. Do you have a bank account?”
    She shook her head. He must think she wasn’t equipped to run a vineyard. Or to make wine. Or to change a tire. But she could learn. And she would.
    “You’ll want to open an account right away so you can write checks for your utilities. When