If Francesca had been drinking, she would have spit. All promises and plans made in the presence of her sisters aside, this was a first date. She might want to throw herself in the deep end, but not in the first hour.

She was reasonably certain Sam was teasing, but just in case there was a grain of truth to the question, she decided on the most sensible, mature course of action.

She ignored it.

“Has your company always been based in Santa Barbara?” she asked.

Sam chuckled. “Chicken.”

“Cluck cluck. Now graciously accept the change in subject, please.”

“Okay. My grandfather had a branch office in Los Angeles for a while, but the base of operations has always been here.”

They talked about the changes in the city in the past ten years, how celebrities both wanted and thwarted a bodyguard’s ability to protect, and the various experiments she’d set up to help her with her research.

Sam had nearly finished his steak when he glanced at her nearly full glass.

“Don’t you like your wine?”

She touched the stem. “It’s fine.”

“Francesca. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m not a big fan of Wild Sea Vineyards.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Do you have any other plans for tonight?”

Plans? With him? Now that he mentioned it-

She deliberately broke off in mid-thought. “Not really.”

“I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” he said. “So tell me a story.”

“All right.” At least this was a safe topic. No double entendres, not even a hint of sexual tension.

“In 1923 two friends, Antonio Marcelli and Salvatore Giovanni, came to America from Italy. They were both second sons with no hope of inheriting their families’ businesses. They vowed to show their respective families that they would be big successes. They settled in Central California and carefully tended the treasures they had brought with them.” She paused and smiled. “Grapevines.”