She felt wicked. She felt excited. God was probably going to punish her, and if the Grands ever found out, they’d have her hide. But it would be worth it.

“Deal.”

When Francesca arrived at the hacienda for brunch the following morning, she had a bad feeling that everyone was going to guess something was going on with her. She felt radiant, her skin was glowing, and she just couldn’t seem to stop grinning.

Not that it was all her fault. After striking their deal, she and Sam had spent the entire night making love. They’d crept downstairs about midnight to grab something to eat and then had retreated to the quiet, sensual darkness of his bedroom.

The only way she’d been able to drag herself from his presence was the realization that if she didn’t show up for her weekly brunch with her family, the Grands would set the FBI on her trail. And she couldn’t very well bring Sam with her. The sight of her in the company of an eligible man would fill the house with the sound of wedding bells. Something neither of them wanted.

Francesca climbed out of her truck and headed for the back door of the big Spanish-style house. It was early June, which meant every form of plant life was lush, green, and growing. Tall trees provided shade over the rear of the house. The vegetable garden by the garage soaked up the bright sunshine. In the distance acres and acres of vines rustled and danced in the light breeze.

The flowers on the grapevines had dried up, while the small pea-sized grapes had appeared. From what she had seen on her drive up to the hacienda, they were going to have a banner year. But there was still a lot of time left until harvest, and Brenna would be happy to tell her all the things that could go wrong between now and then.

The back door burst open. “Francesca!”

She glanced up and smiled as Grandma Tessa held out her arms. “Come, child. We have missed you.”

Francesca ran toward the house and up the three steps, then hugged her grandmother close. “How are you? Feeling all right?”

“I’m old, eh? Things don’t work as well as they used to, but I’m here. That’s enough.” She released her granddaughter, reached up, and pinched her cheek. “Still a pretty girl. But you’re not so young anymore. You need to be married, Francesca. You need bambinos. It is time.”

Normally she found the family pressure a little exasperating, but today nothing could puncture her good mood. “Before I’m too old, right?”

“Single women over thirty,” her grandmother said knowingly. “I read. Easier for you to be taken by aliens than find a man. You only have three years, Francesca. Don’t waste them.”

Francesca laughed. Her cheek stung from Grandma Tessa’s enthusiasm, but the pain was as familiar as the entreaty that she marry and produce offspring. Over the past three years the hints had become much less subtle. Fresh off the success of her older sister’s engagement, the family had increased the pressure.

If she mentioned Sam, they would get off her back about finding a man. Of course, they would also want to meet him and find out if a wedding date had been set. Knowledge of her “no commitment” agreement with him would send both grandmothers scuttling for their rosaries and force her parents to have a long talk with her. Better to play along.

“Talk to her,” Grandma Tessa said as they entered the open and airy kitchen.

Grammy M-Mary-Margaret O’Shea to the rest of the world and Francesca’s maternal grandmother-glanced up from the dough she’d rolled out on the granite counter.

“Francesca! My darlin’ girl.” She wiped her hands on the apron she wore.

Francesca walked over for another hug-this one without a cheek pinch-and bent down to embrace the tiny woman.

“Grandma Tessa wants me to get married again,” Francesca said with mock surprise. “What do you think?”

Grammy M shook her head, causing her white curls to bounce. “You’re supposed to be respectin’ your elders, young lady, not makin’ fun of them. We want you to be happy.”

“You want me pregnant.” Francesca snatched a scone from a cooling rack.

“Married and pregnant,” Grandma Tessa corrected.

Grammy M grinned, her blue eyes dancing with humor. “Oh, I don’t know, Tessa. I’m thinkin’ we could probably find it in our hearts to forgive Francesca if she found herself with a wee one in the oven.”

Francesca chuckled, but didn’t even try to get in the middle of that conversation. Instead she broke the still-steaming scone in half and took a small bite. The firm, golden-brown crust gave way to a soft, perfectly baked, orange-flavored center that made her mouth water even as it dissolved on her tongue.

“Amazing,” she breathed. “Grammy M, we’re going to have to try another scone lesson. I want to be able to do this at home.”

Her maternal grandmother gazed at her fondly before shaking her head and returned to the dough she’d rolled out.

“You’re a lovely girl, but you don’t have much success in the kitchen.”

“I took that cake-decorating class a couple of years ago.”

“Your father nearly choked to death on that piece he ate,” Grandma Tessa reminded her.

Francesca knew they were right. She was a disaster when it came to cooking, although she continued to take classes. Mostly because despite a degree in psychology, she couldn’t seem to talk herself out of the guilt she felt for not caving to family expectations about marriage and kids. So she substituted a quest for excellence in the domestic arts.

“The flowers on the cake were pretty.”

“That they were,” Grammy M agreed. “And you make a lovely radish rose.”

Francesca took another bite of scone, then crossed to the cupboards above the dishwasher and grabbed a glass. “Is this your way of telling me my cooking has style but no substance? I was thinking of taking a class on Chinese cooking this summer.”

“We’re telling you that if you want to win a man’s heart, come by and pick up some ravioli,” Grandma Tessa said cheerfully. “I always have them in the freezer, along with a nice, thick meat sauce.”

Winning a man’s heart was not a place she wanted to go. “Did Mia’s flight get off all right?” she asked to change the subject.

“You just missed her call to say she’d arrived in Washington,” Grammy M said. “I know she’ll enjoy her language course, but we’ll all be missin’ havin’ her around.”

“I’m sure she’ll miss us, too,” Francesca said, then remembered Mia’s plans to hang out with congressional aides. Somehow under those circumstances, she thought her very pretty little sister might be too busy to be homesick.

She reached for another scone, only to have her hand slapped by Grandma Tessa. “Brenna’s out in the vineyards, so you’ll have to set the table yourself. Wash your hands first.”

Francesca laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her grandmother turned to stare at her. Dark eyebrows drew together as Grandma Tessa tried to look fierce.

“I love you both very much,” Francesca said impulsively, hugging the Grands before moving into the hallway and the bathroom tucked under the stairs.

“Use the good china,” Grandma Tessa called after her.

“You’ve been on your own a long time, dear,” her mother said, gazing at her intently.

Colleen O’Shea Marcelli was a petite woman with attractive features, dark hair, and a fashionable dress sense. Even at a casual brunch she looked well put together enough to be in a photo shoot. Francesca had slipped on a sleeveless summer dress because Marcelli daughters weren’t allowed to wear shorts or pants to dinners or any meal on Sunday. While her mother shopped at expensive boutiques that specialized in designer originals, Francesca favored the extra-reduced racks at outlet stores and the occasional castoffs from Brenna, the only one of her sisters to be within two inches of her height.

Across the large table Brenna and her grandfather talked about the coming harvest. The Grands chatted about which movie they would head out to see later, while her father, Marco Marcelli nodded at everything his wife said. Which meant her parents had planned their attack in advance.

“Five years,” her mother said. “Francesca, your devotion to Todd’s memory is a credit to your marriage, but you’re still a young woman. Are you going to mourn him for the rest of your life?”

Francesca thought about pointing out that her grandmother had informed her she was reaching the age of no return, at least in the marriage market.

For the thousandth time she thought about coming clean and simply confessing that nothing about being married appealed to her. Her marriage to Todd had been a disaster. The on-the-surface successful banker hadn’t been interested in an actual person for a wife. Instead he’d wanted only arm candy. His premature death in a car accident had led her to discover that their lavish lifestyle had been financed by credit, not income. She’d been left with plenty of debt, which had forced her to sell everything. In the end she’d walked away, not richer but wiser.

Brenna had married Jeff and had spent the next nine years of her life supporting him through medical school, internships, and residencies. She’s given up her true love-the winery-to be a good wife. Her reward? Jeff dumped her for someone younger. Yes, their parents were happy, and Grandpa Lorenzo and Grandma Tessa had been married for generations, but that wasn’t enough to convince her. As far as she was concerned, love was highly overrated and marriage wasn’t in her future.

Not that her parents would understand. Which meant they had the “why don’t you find a nice boy and settle down” conversation at least twice a month.

“I’m not mourning Todd,” she said truthfully and thought of making love with Sam the previous night. Mourning had been the last thing on her mind. Still, she wouldn’t mind skipping the lecture.