A Starlight Vineyard Romance

Suddenly noticing all the little things he does. Hyper-attentive to features, like his beautiful blue eyes. The awkward moments. The sexual tension. Mina Beckett captures it all perfectly.

Clare adjusted the final wedding centerpiece with precision, her practiced eye ensuring that every detail was flawless. The roses were a beautiful blend of cream and peach, soft as lover’s whispers. Sprigs of baby’s breath spilled from the silver-edged vase like champagne froth. Eucalyptus leaves added a texture reminiscent of enchanted forests and fairy tales. Delicate tendrils of ivy were woven throughout, evoking timeless elegance and the enduring nature of love. Lavender sprigs brought a calming presence, while crystal droplets sparkled like miniature stars suspended among the blooms.

As she stepped back to admire her handiwork, her gaze fell upon the rows of grapevines, a radiant mosaic of deep purples grapes, emerald, green leaves and twisted golden vines against the blush-colored sky. She’d spent months organizing this event at Starlight Winery, ironing out all the kinks to deliver the luxurious dream wedding her clients wanted.

Her gaze was suddenly drawn to the man emerging from the shadows of the winery. It was Mark, the owner. She felt her cheeks flush as he caught her staring at him. Despite being thirty-two and never considering herself a marriage-minded woman, her romantic nature couldn’t help but imagine a future with someone like Mark.

Clare’s heart raced as she ran her fingers through her hair. He approached with a glass of red wine in hand, the sunset casting orange highlights in his dark hair. As he drew near, an electric energy surged between them, heightening the moment.

Over the last few weeks, as they collaborated on planning her client’s wedding, the attraction between them had steadily intensified. Clare couldn’t help but notice the gentle way Mark smoothed out the creases from the table covers, a tenderness in his hands that belied his otherwise rugged appearance. When he caught her watching, he’d shoot her a lopsided grin, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and sent a flurry of butterflies dancing in her stomach.

Every conversation with him added a new layer of intrigue and attraction. His velvety baritone seemed to touch a chord of infatuation within her. As they’d discussed vendor access and lighting, she couldn’t help but lean in, drawn to the faint scent of sandalwood that surrounded him.

Mark’s eyes, a deep shade of blue reminiscent of the twilight sky just before stars make their shy appearances, seemed to hold conversations of their own. Clare would often find herself entranced, lost in the gentle ebb and flow of those cerulean tides. There was an earnestness to his eyes that whispered secrets not yet spoken aloud, secrets that she yearned to understand.

Clare couldn’t help but blush under his appreciative gaze, her pulse racing as he stood so close to her. “You’ve outdone yourself,” he said in a voice filled with genuine awe. “Not just for the wedding, but for everything leading up to this moment. You’re extraordinary.”

Never feeling comfortable with taking too much credit for something made special by two people hopelessly in love, she smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “Hardly. I’m simply well organized.”

Mark shoved a hand into the pocket of his dress slacks and cocked an eyebrow up. “So am I, but I could never orchestrate something so magical out of thin air.” He turned and stretched out his glass as if to toast her work. “You’ve gone all out with the personalized touches. Just look at these wine bottles.” He lifted the bottle from the table, admiring the label. “A custom label with the couple’s monogram and the date. This is something. It’ll be a collector’s item before you know it.”

Clare smiled, nodding, her attention rapt upon him.

“And it’s not just any plonk in there; this is reserve quality,” he continued, gesturing towards the silk-lined boxes that enshrined them, his finger tracing the air where silk met bottle.

“Little keepsakes for everyone to remember the day by.”

Her eyes widened slightly, beckoning him to go on.

Mark’s gaze shifted across the lawn to where a small crowd was gathered by the main building. “Oh, and hosting a private wine tasting was genius,” he said with an enthusiasm that matched a connoisseur’s passion. “We’ve brought in some of the rarest vintages for guests to try – guided by our sommelier no less.”

Clare stifled a laugh. He was explaining the event as if she were a guest, not the wedding planner who had meticulously planned every detail. “Yeah, well,” she said, blowing on her nails before rubbing them against her suit jacket’s lapels. “It’s what I do.”

He snagged a glass of red wine from the server tray and handed it to her, his eyes softening in a way she hadn’t seen before. “Beautiful, intelligent and modest.”

His complement seeped through the tough layers of her professionalism. “Thank you, Mark.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “But you know what I can’t figure out?”

As Clare sipped the wine, its deep garnet color and rich aroma of blackberries, cherries, and smoky oak enveloped her senses. She let it linger on her tongue, tasting dark fruits with notes of cinnamon, clove, chocolate, and espresso. The silky texture reflected meticulous aging and craftsmanship. “What’s that?”

“Why I haven’t kissed you.”

Clare’s eyes met his, drawn to the deep blue that mirrored the soul of the vineyards. It felt like they were alone in the world, sharing wine and delightful conversation amidst a beautiful setting. “I-I’m not sure,” she stuttered, feeling lightheaded.

Placing a hand on her waist, he moved closer. “Me neither.” His whispered confession sent a ripple of anticipation dancing across her skin as his lips brushed against hers. It was a gentle collision, like the softest petal from a cherry blossom drifting onto the calm surface of a pond.

She felt the world tilt and dissolve around them, leaving nothing but the expanse of this single, perfect moment. As his lips moved against hers with an earnest tenderness, Clare was awash in the sensation of falling into a deep sea of stars, each kiss a spark that lit another celestial body in the velvet sky.

She felt the warmth of his palm seep through the fabric of her dress, anchoring her to the moment as he drew nearer. His lips were tender, a perfect mix of strength and vulnerability that seemed to resonate with the very core of her being. The touch was light, almost hesitant, as if he were savoring the sweetness of ripe fruit without bruising its delicate flesh.

“Do you...” Mark began, his voice husky with unspoken emotions. He cleared his throat gently and tried again, “Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?” The question hung between them like a delicate silver thread waiting to be woven into the fabric of possibility.

She felt her heart skip, then dance in a crescendo of hope and excitement. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He grinned and took her hand as they walked towards the wedding ceremony.

Clare was accustomed to arranging fairy tales for others, molding each moment into someone else’s perfect day. But as she stood beneath the vast expanse of a romantic sky with Mark, she allowed herself to imagine that maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of her own happy-ever-after.