Wed on His Terms: Million-Dollar Marriage Merger. Charlene Sands

years, but her winery had been failing and was barely holding on. “She won’t have to.”

      Joe stiffened. “Why, are you planning on buying her out? She won’t sell, bro. You know she’s stubborn. She’s had offers before.”

      â€œNot like this one, Joe.”

      Joe turned his head to look him in the eye. “What, you’re making her an offer she can’t refuse?”

      â€œSomething like that. I’m going to marry her.”

      Rena got into her car alone, refusing her friends’ and neighbors’ well-meaning gestures to drive her home, to sit with her, to memorialize David Montgomery. She never understood why people gathered after a funeral, had food catered in and specialty wines flowing. They filled their plates, chattered and laughed and most times forgot the real reason they had come. She couldn’t do that to David. No, he was too young to die. Too vital. He’d been a good man, an excellent and loving husband. She couldn’t celebrate his life; he’d had so much more to live. So she spoke the words with sincerity to the guests at the funeral site, “I hope you understand that I need to be alone right now,” and had driven off.

      She rode the lanes and narrow streets of the valley as numbness settled over her. She knew this land so well, had traveled every road, had grown up in Napa and had married here.

      She wept silently. Tears that she thought were all dried up spilled down her cheeks. She found herself slowing her old Camry as she passed the Carlino estate, the vibrant vineyards sweeping across acres and acres.

      She knew why she’d come here. Why she parked the car just outside the estate gates. She blamed Tony Carlino for David’s death. She wanted to scream it from the hilltops and shout out the unfairness of it all.

      A flashy silver sports car pulled up behind her, and she knew she’d made a mistake coming here. From the rearview mirror, she watched him step out of the car, his long legs making quick strides to the driver’s side of her car.

      â€œOh, no.” She grasped the steering wheel and rested her forehead there. Biting her lip, she took back her wish to scream out injustices. She didn’t have the energy. Not here. Not now.

      â€œRena?”

      The deep rich timbre of Tony’s voice came through the window of the car. He’d been her friend once. He’d been her world after that. But now all she saw was a drop-dead handsome stranger who should have never come back to the valley. “I’m fine, Tony,” she said, lifting her head from the steering wheel.

      â€œYou’re not fine.”

      â€œI just buried my husband.” She peered straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

      Tony opened the car door, and she glimpsed his hand reaching out to her. “Talk to me.”

      â€œNo … I can’t,” she said with a shake of her head.

      â€œThen let’s take a walk.”

      When she continued to stare at his hand, he added, “You came here for a reason.”

      She closed her eyes holding back everything in her heart, but her mind wouldn’t let go of how David died. Spurred by renewed anger, she ignored Tony’s outstretched hand and bounded out of the car. She strode past him and walked along the narrow road lush with greenery. From atop the hill, the valley spread out before her, abundant with vines and homes, both big and small, a hollow of land where many families worked side by side to ensure a healthy crop.

      She had promised David she’d hold on to Purple Fields, an odd request from his deathbed, yet one she couldn’t refuse. She loved Purple Fields. It had been her parent’s legacy, and now it was her home, her sanity and her refuge.

      She marched purposely ahead of Tony, which was an accomplishment in itself, since he’d always been quick on his feet. His footsteps slowed. Then he let go an exasperated sigh. “Damn it, Rena. David was my friend. I loved him, too.”

      Rena halted. Jamming her eyes closed momentarily, she whirled around. “You loved him? How can you say that? He’s gone because of you!” Rena’s anger flowed like the rush of a river. “You should never have come home. David was happy until you showed up.”

      Lips pursed, Tony jutted his jaw out. Oh, how she remembered that stubborn look. “I’m not responsible for his death, Rena.”

      â€œHe wouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel of that race car if you hadn’t come home. When you showed up, that’s all David talked about. Don’t you see? You represented everything David wanted. You ran away from the vineyards. You raced. You won. You became a champion.”

      Tony shook his head. “It was a freakish accident. That’s all, Rena.”

      â€œYour return here brought it all back to him,” she said solemnly.

      â€œMy father died two months ago. I came home to run the company.”

      Rena glared at him. “Your father,” she muttered. Santo Carlino had been a harsh, domineering man who’d wanted to build his empire no matter the cost. He’d tried to buy out every small winery in the area. And when the owners refused, he’d managed to ruin their business somehow. Purple Fields had seen the brunt of the Carlino wrath for years. Yet her parents had fought him tooth and nail, keeping their small patch of life out of Carlino hands. “I’ll not speak ill of the dead, but …”

      â€œI know you despised him,” Tony stated.

      Rena stuck to her promise and held her tongue about Santo Carlino, but she couldn’t help how she felt and made no apologies for those feelings. “Go away, Tony.”

      Tony’s lips curved up, a sinful, sexy curl of the mouth that at one time had knocked her senseless. “This is my land.”

      She slumped her shoulders. “Right.”

      Rena inhaled sharply, mentally chastising herself for driving up here—a bonehead move, as David would say. She was even more remorseful that she’d taken this short walk with Tony.

      With hasty steps she brushed by him, but his reach was long and painfully tender when he caught her arm. “Let me help.”

      A lump formed in her throat. He didn’t know what he was asking. She’d never accept his help. She glanced into dark, piercing, patient eyes. That was something for the record books—a patient Tony Carlino. He hadn’t become a national stock car champion from his ability to wait.

      She shook her head briskly. “Please don’t touch me.”

      Tony glanced at his hand lying gently on her arm, then stroked the length of it, sliding his hand freely up and down. “I mean it, Rena. You need me.”

      â€œNo, I’ll never need you.” She jerked her arm free. “You just want to ease your guilty conscience.”

      Tony’s eyes grew hard and sharp.

       Good.

      She didn’t need his help or his pity. She’d done without him for twelve years and didn’t need anything he had to offer. All she wanted was to curl up in her bed and dream about the day when she’d hold her precious baby in her arms.

      Tony rubbed his aching shoulder and stretched out his legs, closing the Carlino books for the day. His racing injuries had a way of coming back to haunt him whenever he sat at his father’s desk. Maybe it was because Santo never wanted him to leave Napa. He’d chosen racing over the family business and had left it all behind twelve years ago.

      He’d wanted more