He liked the story, but then he found that he liked everything Francesca had to say.

“Any spilt blood?” he asked.

“Not our style,” she said with a smile. “We’re more the heated conversation types. Actually my grandfather, Antonio’s son, is the one most interested in carrying on the feud. My parents have never been that enthusiastic about old fights, and my sisters and I don’t really have the invested emotions.”

“Who runs Wild Sea now?”

“Salvatore’s great-grandson, Nicholas.” She rested her fingertips on the bottle. “They flourished with their new European cuttings. While we’re a successful enterprise, they are an international conglomerate.”

“You study psychology, not wine. Why?”

“Grandpa Lorenzo says the vines must be a passion. They never were for me. My sister, Brenna, has them in her blood.”

Their waiter took away the plates. Francesca shook off an offer of dessert. Sam handed him a credit card.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said when they were alone again. “I’ve enjoyed this evening.”

“Me, too.” Sam smiled. “I’d like to see you again.”

Heat sparked to life inside her midsection. “Me, too.”

“Tomorrow night? Unless you already have plans.”

She supposed she should play hard to get. That’s what Mia, her baby sister, was always saying. Francesca had never been very good at following directions.

“Tomorrow is fine.”

Sam pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and wrote on the back. “My home number,” he said when he passed it to her. He drew out another card. “Yours?”

As she told him the number, he wrote it down. When he was finished, she glanced at his business card. She scanned the information, then visually stumbled when she read the title under the name.