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Nora Roberts is the first writer to be inducted into the Romance Writers of America Hall of Fame.  The number on New York Times bestselling author of Carolina Moon, River's End, Jewels of the Sun, and other novels, she lives in Maryland.

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elli has never had to worry about competition. For three generation, the Giambelli wines have been renowned for their quality- from Napa Valley to Italy, and throughout the world. The pride of the Giambelli family, and a top PR executive, Sophia loves her job- and excels at it.

But things are about to change at Villa Giambelli. Tereza, the matriarch, has decreed that a merger will take place with the MacMillan family's winery- and Sophia will be taking a new role. As a savvy business-woman, she knows she has to be prepared for anything...but she isn't prepared for Tyler MacMillian. They've been ordered to work together very closely, to make the merger as smooth as possible. Sophia must teach Ty the finer points of marketing and promotion- and Ty, in turn, shows her how to get down and dirty, to use the sun, rain, and earth to coax the sweetest grapes from the vineyard. But as they toil together, both in and out of the fields, Sophia is torn between a powerful attraction and a profe

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elli has never had to worry about competition. For three generation, the Giambelli wines have been renowned for their quality- from Napa Valley to Italy, and throughout the world. The pride of the Giambelli family, and a top PR executive, Sophia loves her job- and excels at it.

But things are about to change at Villa Giambelli. Tereza, the matriarch, has decreed that a merger will take place with the MacMillan family's winery- and Sophia will be taking a new role. As a savvy business-woman, she knows she has to be prepared for anything...but she isn't prepared for Tyler MacMillian. They've been ordered to work together very closely, to make the merger as smooth as possible. Sophia must teach Ty the finer points of marketing and promotion- and Ty, in turn, shows her how to get down and dirty, to use the sun, rain, and earth to coax the sweetest grapes from the vineyard. But as they toil together, both in and out of the fields, Sophia is torn between a powerful attraction and a profe

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The Villa

Random House Large Print Publishing

Chapter One

The bottle of Castello di Giambelli Cabernet Sauvignon, '02, auctioned for onehundred and twenty-five thousand, five hundred dollars, American. A great dealof money, Sophia thought, for wine mixed with sentiment. The wine in that fineold bottle had been produced from grapes harvested in the year Cezare Giambellihad established the Castello di Giambelli winery on a hilly patch of land northof Venice.

    At that time the castello had been either a con or supreme optimism,depending on your point of view. Cezare's modest house and little stone wineryhad been far from castlelike. But his vines had been regal, and he had built anempire from them.

    After nearly a century, even a superior Cabernet Sauvignon was likely morepalatable sprinkled on a salad rather than drunk, but it wasn't her job to arguewith the man with the money. Her grandmother had been right, as always. Theywould pay, and richly, for the privilege of owning a piece of Giambelli history.

    Sophia made a note of the final bid and the buyer's name, though she wasunlikely to forget either, for the memo she would send to her grandmother whenthe auction was over.

    She was attending the event not only as the public relations executive whohad designed and implemented the promotion and catalogue for the auction, but asthe Giambelli family representative at this exclusive, pre-centennial event.

    As such, she sat quietly in the rear of the room to observe the bidding, andthe presentation.

    Her legs were crossed in a long, elegant line. Her back convent-schoolstraight. She wore a black pin-striped suit, tailored and Italian, that managedto look both businesslike and utterly feminine.

    It was exactly the way Sophia thought of herself.

    Her face was sharp, a triangle of pale gold dominated by large, deep-setbrown eyes and a wide, mobile mouth. Her cheekbones were ice-pick keen, her china diamond point, sculpting a look that was part pixie, part warrior. She had,deliberately, ruthlessly, used her face as a weapon when it seemed mostexpedient.

    Tools, she believed, were meant to be used, and used well.

    A year before, she'd had her waist-length hair cut into a short black capwith a spiky fringe over her forehead.

    It suited her. Sophia knew exactly what suited her.

    She wore the single strand of antique pearls her grandmother had given herfor her twenty-first birthday, and an expression of polite interest. She thoughtof it as her father's boardroom look.

    Her eyes brightened, and the corners of her wide mouth curved slightly asthe next item was showcased.

    It was a bottle of Barolo, '34, from the cask Cezare had named Di Tereza inhonor of her grandmother's birth. This private reserve carried a picture ofTereza at ten on the label, the year the wine had been deemed sufficiently agedin oak, and bottled.

    Now, at sixty-seven, Tereza Giambelli was a legend, whose renown as avintner had overshadowed even her grandfather's.

    This was the first bottle of this label ever offered for sale, or passedoutside the family. As Sophia expected, bidding was brisk and spirited.

    The man sitting beside Sophia tapped his catalogue where the photograph ofthe bottle was displayed. "You have the look of her."

    Sophia shifted slightly, smiled first at him-a distinguished man hoveringcomfortably somewhere near sixty-then at the picture of the young girl staringseriously out from a bottle of red in his catalogue. "Thank you."

    Marshall Evans, she recalled. Real estate, second generation Fortune 500.She made it her business to know the names and vital statistics of wine buffsand collectors with deep pockets and sterling taste.

    "I'd hoped La Signora would attend today's auction. She's well?"

    "Very. But otherwise occupied."

    The beeper in her jacket pocket vibrated. Vaguely annoyed with theinterruption, Sophia ignored it to watch the bidding. Her eyes scanned the room,noting the signals. The casual lift of a finger from the third row brought theprice up another five hundred. A subtle nod from the fifth topped it.

    In the end, the Barolo outdistanced the Cabernet Sauvignon by fifteenthousand, and she turned to extend her hand to the man beside her.

    "Congratulations, Mr. Evans. Your contribution to the International RedCross will be put to good use. On behalf of Giambelli, family and company, Ihope you enjoy your prize."

    "There's no doubt of it." He took her hand, lifted it to his lips. "I hadthe pleasure of meeting La Signora many years ago. She's an extraordinarywoman."

    "Yes, she is."

    "Perhaps her granddaughter would join me for dinner this evening?"

    He was old enough to be her father, but Sophia was too European to find thata deterrent. Another time, she'd have agreed, and no doubt enjoyed his company."I'm sorry, but I have an appointment. Perhaps on my next trip east, if you'refree."

    "I'll make sure I am."

    Putting some warmth into her smile, she rose. "If you'll excuse me."

    She slipped out of the room, plucking the beeper from her pocket to checkthe number. She detoured to the ladies' lounge, glancing at her watch andpulling the phone from her bag. With the number punched in, she settled on oneof the sofas and laid her notebook and her electronic organizer on her lap.

    After a long and demanding week in New York, she was still revved and,glancing through her appointments, pleased to have time to squeeze in a littleshopping before she needed to change for her dinner date.

    Jeremy DeMorney, she mused. That meant an elegant, sophisticated evening.French restaurant, discussion of food, travel and theater. And, of course, ofwine. As he was descended from the La Coeur winery DeMorneys, and a top accountexec there, and she sprang from Giambelli stock, there would be some playfulattempts to pry corporate secrets from each other.

    And there would be champagne. Good, she was in the mood for it.

    All followed by an outrageously romantic attempt to lure her into bed. Shewondered if she'd be in the mood for that as well.

    He was attractive, she considered, and could be amusing. Perhaps if theyboth hadn't been aware that her father had once slept with his wife, the idea ofa little romance between them wouldn't seem so awkward, and somehow incestuous.

    Still, several years had passed....

    "Maria." Sophia neatly tucked Jerry and the evening to come away, when theGiambelli housekeeper answered. "I've a call from my mother's line. Is sheavailable?"

    "Oh, yes, Miss Sophia. She hoped you would call. Just one moment."

    Sophia imagined the woman hurrying through the wing, scanning the rooms forsomething to tidy when Pilar Giambelli Avano would have already tidiedeverything herself.

    Mama, Sophia thought, would have been content in a...