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that. That’s not women’s work.”
    Women’s work? She frowned and bit back a retort, something like Even in Sicily, haven’t you heard of equal rights, equal pay and equal opportunities?
    It seemed as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Hadn’t she made it clear she’d stick it out and produce the wine these grapes were famous for even if she had to pick the grapes herself?
    “You can ruin the whole crop by doing it yourself or hiringunskilled laborers. What you should do is take a vacation then go back where you belong.” He took her arm and half pulled her back to the driveway where his car was parked.
    “I am where I belong,” she said, stepping out of his grasp before she got into the car. Her face was hot. Perspiration dripped from her temples.
    Once they were in the car, he drove so fast her hair was whipped around her face in the wind. “This is my land,” she reminded him. “I don’t care how hard it is, I’m going to get those grapes picked and make my own wine from them if I have to do it myself. Which I can’t believe I will have to do. I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to dealing with or what work you expect them to do. I’m not a fragile flower who’ll sit at home knitting, waiting for some man to come along and take care of me. And I’m not a tourist. I’m here to work and I’m here to stay.”
    “Fine,” he said after taking a moment to digest this. “Stay. But stay somewhere else. I’m prepared to make you a generous offer. You can take the money and buy a house with a garden. Something you can manage on your own.”
    “I’m not interested in another house. I’m staying here on my land and in my house. My uncle wanted me to have it, not you. The Azienda Spendora is not for sale.”
    “You haven’t heard our offer.”
    “I don’t need to.”
    “Look,” he said as he stopped the car and turned his head to turn his penetrating gaze on her. “I’ll make a deal with you. Let me take you around the countryside to look at property for sale. If you don’t see anything you like, anything that compares with the Azienda, then I’ll give up. I’ll stop bothering you. Dio , I’ll even help you find the workers you need.”
    “And if I don’t agree to this fruitless trip around the countryside? Because I can tell you right now…”
    “If you don’t agree, and you don’t come with an open mind, then I promise things won’t be easy for you. You have no idea how hard it is to find workers, and you won’t find many friends either.”
    Her face paled. She tried to turn her glare at him but she couldn’t keep her lower lip from trembling. Oh, she put on a game face, but he’d finally made a dent in her self-assurance. He’d threatened her. He must be desperate for the land. But not as desperate as she was to hang on to it.
    “All right,” she said. “I’ll go with you, but I’m warning you…”
    He almost looked amused. As if she had some nerve warning him when he’d just threatened her. He held up one hand, palm forward. “No warnings, no conditions. I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning.”
    “Wait,” she said. “I never met any neighbors. You said…”
    “Tomorrow is another day,” he said. But he didn’t apologize or make any promises. She had a feeling he never did. Then she saw she had a flat tire.
     
    The next morning Isabel had half a mind to cancel. If she’d known Dario’s phone number she might have. She dressed carefully in Capri pants and a tank top, then changed into a sundress, but after surveying her image in the full-length mirror in her hotel room, she changed into blue jeans and a T-shirt then back to the Capris.
    As if it mattered. The man had barely glanced at her yesterday, and when he did look her way he didn’t see a living breathing person who only wanted what she deserved, or even a pesky, tired, jetlagged tourist, he saw an obstacle standing in his way.
    Take yesterday, when he’d fixed her flat tire for