She met his gaze. “At the risk of sounding like your mother, you never bring a date. Why is that?”
“I’m not seeing anyone in particular.”
“Why not? I would think finding women would be easy. You’re a successful, good-looking guy. I would think women would be all over you.”
“Are you flirting with me?”
She laughed. “I think we both know I’m not capable of flirting.” A thought occurred to her. Maybe the problem wasn’t women at all. “Unless you’d rather not date women and you’re concerned we’d have an issue with that. We wouldn’t.”
She paused, not sure how to navigate the socially awkward conversation she’d inadvertently started.
His half smile blossomed. “I’m not gay. I do like women. I’m not seeing anyone seriously because I can’t seem to find someone who interests me enough to make the effort.”
“Have you been married?”
“Yes.”
She stared expectantly. “And?”
“We got a divorce. It was a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “I was at the time. Not anymore.” He looked into her eyes. “I can’t have children. We found out when she couldn’t get pregnant. She didn’t want to deal with that and she left.”
Mackenzie came to a stop. “How could she be so awful? There are other ways to have children.”
“She wasn’t interested in any of them.”
“I’m sorry, Bruno. For prying and for reminding you of a difficult time in your life. I should stick to small talk.”
He pulled her a little closer and spun her. “I don’t mind that you know.”
“Still. I’m sorry.”
“We’ll change the subject. How much does Barbara hate what Four is wearing?”
Mackenzie looked at her sister-in-law. Her flamboyant dress was all bright colors, with an uneven hem and a short sleeve on one arm and a long sleeve on the other.
“I haven’t talked to her about it, but I’m sure it’s not her favorite.”
“Four enjoys tormenting her. If Barbara would stop engaging, Four would stop being so outrageous.”
She turned back to Bruno. “That’s insightful.”
“I’m a good observer.”
“What else have you figured out?”
He looked at her for several seconds. His gaze was so intense, she was sure he was going to say something that would shock her, or maybe just keep her up for three days. Instead he stepped back, squeezed her hand, then released her.
“I should let you get back to your party,” he said. “Have a good night.”
He walked away, leaving her alone in the crowd, uncertain about what had just happened and what it had all meant. If anything.
The party was getting louder as more wine was consumed. Delicious smells from the buffet made her stomach growl. She was just about to grab something to eat when she spotted Rhys talking with a pretty blonde whose name Mackenzie couldn’t remember.
As she watched, the woman reached out and touched Rhys’s forearm. The flirtatiousness was clear, and she waited to see how her husband would respond. He gave the woman a brief smile and took a half step back.
Mackenzie doubted his movements were the least bit planned—no doubt he’d reacted involuntarily. Rhys wasn’t the type who cheated. He was a good man who took his responsibilities, whether to her, his family or the winery, seriously. She could depend on him. She trusted him.
But they hadn’t shared a bedroom in nearly five years, and it had been at least that long since they’d made love. So if he wasn’t sleeping with her, who was he sleeping with? And even as she asked the question, she wondered if she really, truly wanted to know the answer.
* * *
Stephanie Barcellona wanted to state—for the record—that ex-husbands were a very bad idea. Especially good-looking ones with easy smiles and knowing glances. She’d spent the past hour ducking and weaving to avoid Kyle, but no matter how she busied herself with the party, he kept circling closer.
If only her mother hadn’t insisted he be invited. Perhaps more to the point, if only Stephanie had the backbone of a goldfish, she would walk up to him, look him in the eye and say that it was over. O. V. E. R. She was done being his booty call whenever he found himself in Walla Walla with a few hours to spare. They had been divorced over a decade. Nearly twice as long as they’d been married. They needed to be finished with each other for good. Having sex a couple of times a year didn’t help either one of them. Though she was pretty sure it didn’t faze him at all and only she was left feeling like an idiot.
It had been eighteen months since her last, um, encounter with Kyle. She’d gotten through last year’s party and the holidays without giving in to his whispered “Hey, beautiful, let’s go somewhere quiet.” She told herself that if she could stay strong for the rest of the night, she would have broken free of him. She was determined, she had a plan. Unfortunately, she was also horny.
Betrayed by my hormones, she thought glumly as she circulated around the guests, making sure all was well. While she checked the flow of food and double-checked there was plenty of wine at the bar, her girl parts began to ache. Kyle always knew exactly how to make her come in, like, eighteen seconds. Humiliating but true.
She spotted him out of the corner of her eye, headed in her direction, and quickly walked the opposite way. If he got within touching distance, he would do that shoulder-to-wrist strokey thing with his fingers. The one that made her all shivery. Then he would lean in and tell her she had a great ass, because Kyle was just that much of a romantic. Then he would corner her so he could lightly brush against her nipples and she would be lost.
“Not happening,” she breathed. “I can’t do this anymore.”
She continued the duck-and-weave dance, feeling like a character in a very badly written play, when she saw Giorgio nod at her. It was time.
All thoughts of Kyle fled as she checked her pocket for the small cloth bag tucked there, before walking directly to the DJ.
“Stephanie,” Kyle said, his tone low and suggestive, as he closed in behind her.
She didn’t bother looking at him as she said, “Not now.”
When she reached the stage, she smiled at the DJ. “Ready.”
He gradually lowered the volume of the music, then handed her the microphone. All the guests turned toward the small platform.
“If I can have your attention for just another moment,” she said, looking at Giorgio, who appeared incredibly calm, despite the momentousness of the occasion. “A certain gentleman would like to have a word with his very special lady.”