LITMIR.BIZ

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      Josh peeled off his clothes, lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling in the dim light from the lamp across the room. For a moment, he wished he were home in Boston. Yet if he were miraculously able to transport himself to his own comfortable town house on Beacon Hill, he wouldn’t be plotting how to wangle more time with Gina Angelini, as he was now.

      Gina. Her very name made him feel all warm inside. Gina Angelini, Gina the angel, Gina the beautiful. Why had he ever turned her away?

      Because, in his judgment at the time, she was too natural and unspoiled, too gentle and sweet, to be subjected to the media attention sure to follow his choice. Throughout the filming of the show, Gina had sent signals that she was uncomfortable with celebrity; she had been noticeably homesick when she first arrived in Scotland. Still, he’d felt an affinity toward her immediately, from the moment their eyes met.

      There’d been an indefinable spark. An undercurrent of excitement that made their every encounter sizzle. He’d often wanted to spirit her away from the artificial atmosphere of the show, but he’d had obligations. He had a contract with the producers that prohibited him from deviating from a certain script. And in the end, he couldn’t imagine anyone as honest and upfront as Gina appearing with him on Good Morning, America or Oprah to bill and coo on cue for the cameras. So he’d chosen that hussy Tahoma. But he had regrets. Boy, did he ever.

      He fell into a fitful sleep, crazy dreams cartwheeling through his mind so that he woke often. Each time he tried to go back to sleep, there was Gina, her unforgettable face lulling him back to dreamland. Gina smiling, Gina frowning, Gina and that come-hither bat of her eyelashes that he suspected was entirely unwitting.

      Finally, when the bedside clock read six o’clock, Josh gave up on sleeping. He swung his feet out of bed and padded across the floor to the bathroom, where he shaved in record time. He had business in the Napa Valley that required his attention, but how could he concentrate on it if all he thought about was Gina, Gina, Gina?

      AS SOON AS HE FINISHED getting dressed, Josh drove over to Good Thymes, less than a mile away, and parked his car in the same spot as yesterday. He couldn’t help glancing automatically at the upstairs window where he had seen Gina’s lush silhouette last night. The windows were open now, the curtains looped back, and there was no sign of her. In the lemony first light of day, the cottage seemed like an illustration from a fairy tale, with its weathered green shutters and faded red front door. He half expected Cinderella or Snow White to appear and beckon him inside.

      Only it was Gina who appeared on the doorstep, carrying a basket over one arm and looking amazed to see him. He didn’t know why. Had she thought he’d give up so easily?

      Taking advantage of her speechlessness, he walked over and gestured at the basket. “Going to Grandmother’s house, Little Red Riding Hood?”

      “No, but if I’m Little Red Riding Hood, what does that make you? The wolf?” She walked down the steps and alongside the flagstone path leading through the rose arbor to the garden.

      He was right behind her. “Yes,” he said. “The better to harass you, my dear.”

      “I don’t deserve it,” she said loftily. “You might as well annoy someone else.” She unhooked the gate latch.

      “I tried annoying someone. She had a boyfriend already.”

      “You mean Tahoma? Smart girl.”

      Josh didn’t like the way this conversation was going, but he followed along doggedly even though she let the arbor gate swing back to punch him in the stomach.

      “Oof,” he said, and she grinned back at him as she made her way past the dew-drenched plants to the back of the garden.

      “Next time don’t walk so close behind me,” she said.

      “I’m keeping a decent distance between us,” he told her as she bent down among the rosemary bushes.

      “Your idea of decent and mine could be quite different,” she said. In the misty morning light, she seemed ethereal and more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. There was also more than a hint of determination in the cant of her jaw, and a mote of resolution in her eyes.

      He decided to tackle the problem head-on. “What is your main objection to me?” he asked mildly.

      She tilted her head to one side, which only increased her desirability. She was wearing a loose chambray smock over her jeans, and it was unbuttoned low enough to show a hint of cleavage. He swallowed, realizing that she wore no bra. The thought of her breasts swinging unfettered beneath the light fabric made concentrating on her answer to his question hard.

      “Number one should be obvious,” she said, tossing a sprig of rosemary into her basket. “You dumped me in front of millions of people.”

      “I thought I expl—”

      “Number two, there’s no future in it. We’re from different worlds, you and me. I’m from a simple farming family. You live in Boston and went to prep school. You graduated from an Ivy League college, while I only managed one year at UC-Sacramento before I had to drop out and work at the winery. Number three…” She stopped talking and regarded him coolly. “I’m still trying to think of reason number three,” she said lamely.

      “Does there have to be a future in every relationship?” he asked heatedly. “Isn’t it enough to renew old acquaintance and see what develops?”

      “Maybe for you,” Gina said, half rising and settling herself down in a new place.

      “As for your simple farming family, between bocce games I met your cousin Greg who has a Ph.D. in chemistry and teaches at a private college in San Francisco. There was nothing simple about Greg.”

      “It’s true, Gregory is very intelligent.” Unperturbed, she tossed several more sprigs into the basket.

      Josh continued. “Your cousin Carla seems to have a brilliant grasp of how to build a public relations career. When I was on my return trip to the buffet table, your mother treated me to a fascinating discourse on baking bread and rolls for your aunt Dede’s catering service. Don’t run down your family, Gina. I told you I think they’re wonderful.”

      “Yes, you did, and yes, they are.”

      It annoyed him that she wouldn’t give him something to refute, anything that would help him prove the point that she ought to stop pushing him away.

      “We could at least go out to dinner.”

      She nailed him with an unfathomable look. “Last night all you wanted was drinks. Now it’s dinner. I haven’t even given you an inch, and you’re already trying to take a mile.”

      “Come on, Gina, I hardly know anyone in town. Be a good sport and keep me company for a couple of hours.”

      “You’re tearing at my heartstrings.” His wheedling seemed to have made no difference at all, and here he was slugging away, trying his hardest.

      He forced an expression of optimism. “Good. Does that mean you’ll go?”

      She leaned back, shaded her eyes against the rising sun with her hand and squinted up at him. “Tell you what, Josh. You go back to Boston and I’ll let you know if I change my mind. In other words, don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

      He let out a long low whistle of appreciation. “You’re one tough cookie, Gina Angelini.” He couldn’t help grinning down at her.

      For a moment, he thought she might be wavering, but no. She did grin back at him, though, and there was a flicker of something—communion? camaraderie?—behind her eyes.

      “And you’re one persistent fellow,” she said, almost without missing a beat.

      Whatever else he had in mind to say was lost in the shuffle when two pint-size whirlwinds burst through the gate.

      “Gina, Gina! Guess what!” Frankie was first, with Mia hot on his heels. Both of them carried

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