“Is there a wedding today?” she asked the valet.
“No, a press conference. ESPN is here!” His eyes bugged with excitement. “There’s some big baseball thing. You should see who’s here, too. Couple of Yankees, people from the MLB, and...” He leaned closer and looked side to side before lowering his voice. “Nathaniel Ivory is here.”
“Oh.” She had to get out of here before she saw Becker. Still holding one of the baskets with two hands, she shouldered through the crowd to the double doors of the spa, struggling to figure out a way to get the door and not put down the basket.
Suddenly, someone came up behind her and grabbed the oversized brass handle for her.
The tightening in her chest squeezed until it crushed her heart as she stared at the hand in front of her. Long, strong, tanned, masculine, and far too familiar. A hand she’d held. A hand that had touched her. A hand that—
“Let me help you.”
She gathered her wits, took a breath, and looked up to meet the very ebony eyes that haunted her every night.
“You already have,” she said, hoisting her basket a little higher, as if it could protect her from the impact of his size and proximity. “Thanks for the poetic and creative ideas.”
“I have one more.” His voice was low and intimate, and just a little too close for comfort.
“I got today’s, thank you.”
“One more creative idea. Would you like to hear about it?” Without waiting for her response, he took the basket she carried and opened the door for her, using his whole body to usher her in.
“I would not,” she said crisply, walking to the wide receptionist desk. “Hi, I have an appointment with Jocelyn Palmer.”
Elliott was right next to her in an instant. “She can’t meet with you now. But I can.”
The receptionist let out a soft laugh. “Is this the woman you’ve been asking about?” she asked him.
“This is the one. The one and only.”
A totally unwanted and undeniable thrill danced through Frankie as she managed a smile. “But I have an appointment with Jocelyn.”
He turned to the other woman and lifted his brows expectantly, giving her a moment to reply.
“Um, I’m afraid she’s canceled that, Ms. Cardinale.”
“What?”
“Her husband has asked her to be part of the announcement, and they’re doing a walk-through meeting in the private dining room right now.” She frowned at Elliott. “Aren’t you supposed to be in there?”
“I have my own meeting.” He put a possessive hand on Frankie’s shoulder and gestured toward the hallway that led to the backrooms of the spa. “This way.”
She refused to move. “I’m not...” She gave a pleading look to the receptionist. “Can I at least talk to Jocelyn?”
“I’ll try and reach her.”
“You do that,” Elliott said. “We’ll be in her office.”
He pressed on her back, and Frankie let out a sigh, going toward the doorway she knew led to the spa manager’s office.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“I have to show you something.” He opened Jocelyn’s office door and guided her to the round table in the corner.
For a second, all she could do was stare at what was on the table. It was like...nothing she’d ever seen. She stood there and drank in every precious detail of a three-dimensional model of...a goat farm? She fell into the closest chair, a fine chill exploding over her skin as she tried to process the absolute perfection of the work.
“It’s part of today’s announcement.” He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
Questions bubbled up, but before she could ask anything she had to just look at it. Someone brilliant had designed this, someone who’d managed to climb into her imagination—and Nonno’s—and create something that was as beautiful as it was functional.
“It’s a 3-D scale model, but—”
She held her hand up to silence him, not wanting any more information while she absorbed what was in front of her. Acres of land, with a two-story. stone farmhouse that looked like it had been plucked from the hills of Tuscany perched in one corner, looking out over the expanse of a complex that included a large round pen, a bright red shelter and workhouse, and a precious little storefront surrounded by wooden benches and shade trees. A closed-off petting area filled one side and behind it, a series of larger pens, with a hand-painted sign above them that read: The Official Mascots of the Barefoot Bay Bucks!
“That’s what we’re calling the team,” he said, adding some pressure to her shoulders as if he could underscore the importance of that. “So we’d love to expand the whole stadium complex to include this visitors’ attraction, which we think the families and kids will love.”
“It’s...” She reached out and touched the gentle curve of a window dormer on the house, something so precious and inviting, it twisted her heart. “Dreamy.” In fact, it was right out of one of her dreams.
“Do you like it?”
She looked up, over her shoulder. “I assume that’s a rhetorical question.”
He laughed, coming down next to her, taking one knee so they were face-to-face. “You and your ten-dollar words, Francesca. Is this what you want to do with your land? Did I understand what you told me?”
She searched his face, only slightly more appealing to her eyes than the work of art next to her. “Is this supposed to go on my land?”
“That’s up to you. This is an optional piece of a master plan that’s being announced in”—he glanced at his watch—“fifteen minutes. We can leave this out and build everything to the west of your property, with absolutely no infringement on your land at all. Or...” He took her hands, and only then did she realize she was shaking. All over. “This can be part of the plan.”
“Whose plan?”
“Our plan, Frankie.” He lifted her hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips, closing his eyes like a wave of relief and joy rocked him. “God, I missed you.”
She tried to swallow, but a lump the size of, well, a baseball, filled her throat.
“Frankie, I don’t know any way...” He opened his eyes, which were as shockingly damp as hers felt. “I don’t know how to tell you in any other way how sorry I am that I hurt you and how much I want”—he inhaled a steadying breath—“a chance to be with you. A chance to hold you and make promises to you and to be completely real with you.”