Chapter 9
“Tell me about yourself,” Noah coaxed, whispering into Sheila’s ear. They had managed to get dressed and were sitting together, propped by a pine tree. Noah’s arms were wrapped protectively around her as she leaned against him, and his chin rested on her head.
“There’s not much to tell.” She snuggled deeper into his arms while she watched ghostly clouds move across the moon. It was a still night, with a mere hint of a breeze. The soft drone of insects and the occasional cry of an owl were the only sounds she could hear, aside from Noah’s steady breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart.
“Why don’t you start by telling me why you want to stay on at the winery?” He felt her body become rigid.
“I think it’s obvious.”
“Good. Then you can explain it to me.”
“It was my father’s lifeblood, Noah. He spent his whole life dreaming of producing the best wines possible. I can’t just give it up.”
“I haven’t asked you to.”
“Not yet.” She could feel the muscles in her jaw tensing. Not now, she thought to herself, don’t ruin it now. We just made beautiful, heavenly love. I love you hopelessly. Don’t betray me! Not now.
“But you think I will.”
She ran a trembling hand through her hair. “You already offered to buy me out.”
“And that bothers you. Why?”
He seemed sincere. She didn’t want to think that he had the ugly ulterior motives of which her attorney had warned her. She didn’t want to believe he was like his infamous father. “It’s just too sooncafter my father’s death. I don’t want to give up everything he believed in. Not yet.”
His thumb persuaded her to turn her head and look at him. “Does it mean that much to you—what your father wanted?”
“We were very close.”
Noah rubbed his thumbnail under his lower lip. “Close enough that you’re willing to sacrifice everything in order to prolong his dream?”
“It’s not a sacrifice. It’s what I want to do.”
Noah sighed and his breath ruffled her hair as he tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “Oh, beautiful lady—what am I going to do with you?” She was a puzzle to him; an intriguing, beguiling puzzle for which he had no answers.
“Trust me,” she replied in answer to his rhetorical question.
“I do,” he admitted fervently.
She wanted to believe him, but couldn’t forget the dark shadows of doubt she had seen in his clear blue eyes.
“Tell me about your husband,” Noah suggested, carefully changing the topic of conversation. The faceless man who had married Sheila, impregnated her and then left her had been eating at Noah since the first night they had been together.
“I don’t like to talk about Jeff.” It was a flat statement, intent on changing the subject.
“Why not?”
Her fingers curled into tiny fists, and she had to force them to relax. “It still bothers me.”
“The divorce—or the marriage?”
“The fact that I made such a big mistake.” She pulled herself out of Noah’s warm arms.
“Then you blame yourself.”
“Partially, I suppose—look, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I didn’t mean to pryc”
Sheila waved his apology aside. “Nocyou didn’t. I don’t know why it bothers me so much.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re still in love with him.”
Sheila’s head snapped back as if his words had slapped her in the face. “You’re wrong. The answer is probably just the opposite. I don’t know if I ever loved him. I thought I did, but if I had loved him enough, perhaps things would be different.”
“And you would still be married?”
She nodded mutely, trying to repress the urge to cry.
“Is that what you want—to be married to him?”
Sheila felt as if the blood were being drained from her as she told Noah her innermost thoughts, the secrets she had guarded from the rest of the world. “No, I don’t want to be married to him—marrying Jeff might have been my biggest mistake. But, because of Emily, I wonder if I did the right thing.”
“By divorcing him?”
“He divorced me,” she sighed, rubbing her fingertips pensively over her forehead. “But maybe I should have fought it, tried harder for Emily’s sake.”
“Oh, so you think that it would be better for the child if the two of you hadn’t split up.” His voice sounded bitter in the dark night.
“I don’t know what would have been right. It was difficult. I thought he was happy.”
“Were you?”
“In the beginning, yes. And when I found out I was pregnant, I was ecstatic. Jeff wasn’t as thrilled as I was, but I thought his reaction was normal and that he would become more involved with the child once she was born.” Sheila paused, as if trying to put her emotions into some kind of order. Noah felt an intense dislike for Jeff Coleridge.
“It didn’t happen,” Noah guessed.
“It wasn’t the baby so muchcas the added strain on him to support the family. I couldn’t work, not even in the part-time job I had kept before Emily was born. The cost of a good sitter would have eaten up all my salary. I guess the financial burden was too much for him.” Sheila stopped, and the heavy silence enveloped her. Noah was waiting to hear the end of her story, but she found her courage sadly lacking. What she had hidden from her father and the rest of the world, she found impossible to say to the man whose fingers still touched her arm.
“He left you because of the money? What kind of man would leave a wife and a child when he couldn’t support them?”
Sheila felt herself become strangely defensive. “He wasn’t born to wealth, like you. He had to struggle every day of his life.”
“That has nothing to do with a man’s responsibility.” His fingers dug into her arm. “What happened? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Sheila swallowed back her tears. “Jeffche becamecinvolved with another woman.” She lowered her head, ashamed of what she had admitted.
When confronted with the truth he had suspected, Noah felt a sickening turn in his stomach. He gritted his teeth to prevent a long line of oaths from escaping.
Compelled to continue, Sheila spoke again in the barest of whispers, as if the pain were too intense to be conveyed in a normal tone of voice. “This woman—her name was Judith—she was older than Jeff, mid-forties, I’d guess. Divorced and financially secure. She wanted a youngerc”
“Stud?” Noah asked sarcastically.
“Man.”
“Your husband was no man, Sheila!” he swore. “He’s a bastard, and a stupid one at that.”
Sheila bravely held her poise together, admitting to Noah what no one else had ever known. She had kept her secrets locked securely within her, hoping to keep any of her pain or anger from tainting Emily’s image of her father. “It doesn’t matter. Not now. Anyway, Jeff demanded a divorce, and when I realized that there was no hope for the two of us, I agreed. The only thing I wanted was my child. That wasn’t much of a problem; Emily would only have gotten in Jeff’s way.”
Noah’s fingers tightened and pulled her closer to his chest. “You don’t have to talk about any of thisc.”
“It’s all right. There’s not much more to tell, but I think you should hear it,” she stated tonelessly. “When the marriage failed, I went off the deep end. I didn’t know where to turn. Dad encouraged me to move to California and go to school for my master’s.”
Sheila smiled wistfully to herself when she recalled how transparent her father had been. “I’m sure that he expected me to find some other man to take my mind off Jeff. So—” she let out the air in her lungs with her confession “—I took money from my dad, a lot of money that he probably couldn’t afford to lend to me, and accepted his advice. I didn’t know that payment for my out-of-state tuition and living expenses was more than Dad could afford. I thought the winery was profitable. But, it wasn’t, and Dad had to borrow the money he loaned to me.”
“From Wilder Investments,” Noah guessed. Noah’s frown deepened and the disgust churning in his stomach rose in his throat. So this was how Ben had cornered Oliver Lindstrom, by using the man’s love of his daughter and capitalizing upon it. The muscles in the back of Noah’s neck began to ache with the strain of tension.
“There are two mortgages on the winery,” Sheila admitted. “Dad had nowhere else to borrow.”
“And of course Ben complied.”
“You make it sound as if he instigated the whole thing.”
Noah’s nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Your father had nothing to do with the fact that my marriage fell apart. It’s my fault that I hadn’t paid back the loanc. I just thought there was more time. I never even considered the fact that my father was mortal.” Her grief overcame her and the tears she had been fighting pooled in her eyes. “I thought he’d always be there.”
“Don’t,” he urged, kissing her lightly on the top of the head. “Don’t torture yourself with a guilt you shouldn’t bear.”
The little laugh that erupted from her throat was brittle with self-condemnation. “If only I could believe that.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“There’s no one else to blame.”
“How about your ex-husband to start with?” Noah spat out, surprised at the hatred he felt for a man he didn’t know. “Or your father. He should have told you about his financial problems.”
She shook her head, and the tears in her eyes ran down her cheeks. “He didn’t want to burden me, and I didn’t even ask!”
“Shhhclove, don’t,” Noah whispered, holding her shaking form against him, trying to quiet a rage that burned within him. How did so beautiful a creature, so innocent a woman, get caught in the middle between two men who only meant to hurt her? Her husband was a wretch, and her father, while trying to shield her, had wounded her in the end. The fire and Oliver Lindstrom’s part in its conception waged heavy battles in Noah’s tired mind. If only he could tell Sheila what he knew about her father, if only he could bare his soul to her. But he held his tongue, fearful lest he reinforce her feelings of guilt.
Noah had never guessed why Sheila’s father had borrowed against his interest in the winery. He had assumed that the money was used for personal use or folly, but he didn’t doubt the authenticity of Sheila’s tale. Too many events correlated with the ledgers at Wilder Investments, ledgers he had studied for hours before coming to the Cascade Valley. If the ledgers weren’t evidence enough, the guilt-ridden lines on Sheila’s face testified to her remorse and self-incrimination.
“Come on,” he murmured, rising and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go back to the house. You need some sleep.”
“Will you stay with me?” she asked, cringing in anticipation of possible rejection. She felt as if her confession would destroy any of the feelings he might have had for her.
“For as long as you want me,” he returned, slowly walking up the hill toward the house.
* * *
Sheila woke to find herself alone in the bed. The blue printed sheets that she loved seemed cold and mocking without Noah’s strong embrace. She knew why he wasn’t with her. He had held her and comforted her most of the night, but sometime near morning, when she was drowsily sleeping, he had slipped out of her room to wait for dawn on the uncomfortable couch. It was somewhat hypocritical, but the best arrangement possible because of Emily and Sean.
The day began pleasantly, and even a makeshift breakfast of sausage and pancakes went without much of a hitch. Sean was still sullen and quiet, but at least he seemed resigned to his fate, and for the most part didn’t bait Sheila.
After breakfast, while the kids washed the dishes, Sheila took Noah through the rooms of the château. It was a large building; it had originally been built as the country resort of a rich Frenchman named Gilles de Marc. Viticulture had been his hobby, and it was only when he discovered the perfect conditions of the Cascade Valley for growing wine grapes that he began to ferment and bottle the first Cabernet Sauvignon.
Other than a few rooms on the first floor that had been spared, the damage to the main house was dismal. Noah’s practiced eyes traveled over the smoke-laden linen draperies and the gritty layer of ash on the carpet. It was obvious that Sheila had tried to vacuum and shampoo the once-burgundy carpet to no avail. Huge water stains darkened the English wallpaper, and a few of the windowpanes were broken and covered with pieces of plywood. The elegant European antiques were water stained, and with the grateful exception of a few expensive pieces, would have to be refinished. Everywhere there was evidence that Sheila had attempted to restore the rooms to their original grandeur, but the task had been too overwhelming.
* * *
Later, sitting in the office looking over Oliver Lindstrom’s personal records, Noah noted they coincided with the events in Sheila’s story. He pondered the entries in Oliver’s checkbook, noting dismally when the money borrowed from Wilder Investments had come in. Some of the funds had been sent in quarterly installments to Sheila in California; other money had been used for the day-to-day operation of the winery in lean years. As far as Noah could tell, Oliver had used none of the funds for himself. That knowledge did nothing to ease his mind; it only made it more difficult to explain to Sheila that her father was involved with the arson.
Sheila attempted to help Noah, explaining what she knew of the winery. Noah sat at her father’s desk, jotting notes to himself and studying her father’s books as if they held the answers to the universe. She felt as if she were growing closer to him, that she was beginning to understand him. She knew that she could trust him with her life, and she quietly hoped that the love she was feeling for him would someday be returned. Perhaps in time the shadows of doubt that darkened his eyes would disappear and be replaced by trust.
Even Emily was beginning to open up to Noah, and the little girl’s shyness all but disappeared by midafternoon. Though he was busy looking over the books, he always took the time to talk to her and show an interest in what she was doing. By late afternoon Emily seemed completely at ease with Noah.
The most surprising relationship that began to evolve was Emily’s attraction to Sean. She adored the teenager and followed after him wherever he went. Though Sean tried vainly to hide his feelings, Sheila suspected that Sean was as fond of the tousled-headed little girl as she was of him. Things were going smoothly—too smoothly.
“Enough work,” Sheila announced, breezing into Oliver’s study. Noah was at the desk, a worried frown creasing his brow. One lock of dark hair fell over his forehead. As he looked up from the untidy stack of papers on the desk and his eyes found hers, a lazy grin formed on his lips.
“What have you got in mind?” A seductive glint sparked in his eyes as they caressed her from across the room.
She lowered her voice and dropped her eyelids, imitating his look of provocative jest. “What do you have in mind?”
“You’re unkind,” he muttered, seeing through her joke.
“And you’re overly optimistic.”
He leaned back in the leather chair and it groaned with the shifting of his weight. “Expectant might be a better word.”
“I was hoping to hear that you were hungry.”
His smile broadened. “That might apply,” he admitted, his voice husky.
“Good.” She threw off her look of wicked seduction and winked at him. “We’re going on a picnic.”
“Alone?”
“Dream on. The kids are joining us.”
Before Noah could respond, an eruption of hurried footsteps announced Emily’s breathless arrival into the study. “Aren’t you ready yet?” she grumbled. “I thought we were going on a hike.”
“We’re on our way,” Sheila laughed. “Did you pack your brownies?”
“Shhhc” Emily put her finger to her lips and her face pulled into a pout. “They’re supposed to be a surprise!”
“I promise I won’t tell a soul,” Noah kidded, his voice hushed in collusion with the excited child. “This will be our secret, okay?”
Emily smiled, and Sheila couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since she had seen her daughter so at ease with a man. Emily was shy, and even when her father visited, it took time for her to warm up to him. But with Noah it was different; a genuine fondness existed between the man and child. Or was it her imagination, vain hopes that Emily would take to Noahc.
Emily raced out of the room, and Sheila cocked her head in the direction of the retreating child. “I think we’d better get going before Emily’s patience wears out.”
“I can’t believe that little girl would ever lose her temper.”
“Just wait,” Sheila warned with a warm laugh. “You’ll see, only hope that you’re well out of range of her throwing arm if you ever cross her.”
“Emily? Tantrums?”
“The likes of which haven’t been seen in civilization,” Sheila rejoined.
Noah rose from the chair. “I wonder where she gets that temper of hers?” he mused aloud. The corners of his eyes crinkled in laughter as he stared pointedly at Sheila. He crossed the room and encircled her waist with his arms. His fingers touched the small of her back, pressing her firmly against him. He pushed an errant lock of copper hair behind her ear as he stared down at her, a bemused smile curving his lips. His clean, masculine scent filled her nostrils.
She lifted an elegant eyebrow dubiously. “Are you accusing me of being temperamental?”
He shook his head. “Temperamental is far too kind. Argumentative is more apt, I think.” His lips caressed her forehead and his voice lowered huskily. “What I wouldn’t give to have just an hour alone with you,” he growled against her ear.
“What would you do?” she asked coyly, playing with the collar of his shirt.
“Things you can’t begin to imagine.”
She felt a tremor of excited anticipation pierce through her. “Try me.”
His eyes narrowed in frustration. “You’re unbelievable, you know, but gorgeous. Just wait, you’ll get yours,” he warned as he released her and gave her buttocks a firm pat. “Let’s go—we don’t want to keep Emily waiting.”
The hike up the steady incline of the surrounding hills took nearly an hour, but Sheila insisted that the view from the top of the knoll was well worth the strain on their leg muscles. Noah appeared openly doubtful, Emily was an energetic bundle of anticipation and Sean had once again donned his role of bored martyrdom.
The picnic spot Sheila had chosen was one of her favorites, a secluded hilltop guarded by a verdant stand of tamaracks and lodgepole pines. After selecting an area that afforded the best view of the surrounding Cascade Mountains, she spread a well-worn blanket on the bare ground and arranged paper plates and sandwiches haphazardly over the plaid cloth. The tension of the previous night was subdued, and Sheila relaxed as she nibbled at a sandwich and sipped from a soft drink. Even Sean began to unwind, letting his mask of rebellion slip.
“I know a good place to catch trout,” Emily stated authoritatively. She was still trying to impress Sean.
“You do, do you?” Sean kidded, rumpling Emily’s dark curls. A mischievous twinkle lighted his blue eyes. “How would a little kid like you know about catching trout?”
Emily’s face rumpled in vexation. “I’m not a little kid!”
“Okay,” Sean shrugged dismissively. “So how do you know how to fish?”
“My grandpa taught me,” Emily declared.
Sean’s indifference wavered as he sized up the little girl. She was okay, he decided, for a little kid. His expression was still dubious. “What kind of trout?”
“Rainbowcand some brook.”
Sean’s interest was piqued. “So how do you catch them?”
“With a pole, stupid,” Emily replied haughtily.
Once again Sean was defensive. “But we didn’t bring any poles.”
“You think you know everything, don’t you?” Emily shot back. She reached into Sheila’s backpack and extracted two tubes; within each was an expandable fly rod.
“You need more than a pole to catch a fish.”
Emily shot him a look that said more clearly than words, Any idiot knows that much. Instead she said, “Give me a break, will ya?” Once again she reached into the open backpack and pulled out a small metal box full of hand-tied flies. She flipped open the lid and held it proudly open for Sean’s inspection. “Anything else?”
Sean smiled, exposing large dimples as he held his palms outward in mock surrender. “Okay, okay—so you know all about fishing. My mistake. Let’s go.” He looked toward Noah and Sheila sitting near the blanket to see if he had parental approval.
Sheila, who had been witnessing the ongoing discussion with quiet amusement, grinned at the blond youth. “Sure you can go. Your dad and I can handle the dishes—such as they are. Emily knows how to get to the creek; she and her grandpa used to go up there every evening.” Sheila’s smile turned wistful. “Just be sure to be back at the house before it gets too dark.”
Emily was already racing down the opposite side of the hill, her small hand wrapped tightly around the fly rod. “Come on, Sean. Get a move on. We haven’t got all day,” she sang out over her shoulder.
Sean took his cue and picked up the remaining pole and the box of flies before heading out after Emily.
Sheila began to put the leftover fruit and sandwiches into the basket. “You can help, you know,” she pointed out, glancing at Noah through a veil of dark lashes.
“Why should I when I can lie here and enjoy the view?” His blue eyes slid lazily up her body. He was lying on his side, his body propped up on one elbow as he studied her. As she placed the blanket into her backpack, his hand reached out to capture her wrist. “Explain something to me.”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “If I can.”
His dark brows blunted, as if he were curiously tossing a problem over in his mind, but his thumb began to trace lazy, erotic circles on the inside of her forearm. “Why is it that you and that precocious daughter of yours can handle my son when I can’t even begin to understand him?”
“Maybe you’re trying too hard,” Sheila answered. She bit into an apple and paused when she had swallowed. “Do you really think that Emily’s precocious?”
“Only when she has to be.”
“And when is that?”
“When she’s dealing with Sean. He’s a handful.”
Sheila rotated the apple in her hand and studied it. “She’s never had to deal with anyone like Sean before.”
Noah seemed surprised. “Why not?”
Sheila shrugged dismissively. “All of my friends have children just about Emily’s age. Some are older, some younger, but only by a few years. The winery’s pretty remote and she hasn’t run into many teenagers. That might be because they tend to avoid younger kids.”
“Certainly you’ve had babysitters.”
Sheila shook her head, and the sunlight glinted in reddish streaks on her burnished curls. “Not many,” she explained, tossing the apple core into the trash. “I usually trade off with my friends, and when that doesn’t work out, there’s always Marian.”
“Marian?”
“Jeff’s mother. Emily’s grandmother.”
Noah’s thumb ceased its seductive motion on her inner wrist. “Right,” he agreed, as if he really didn’t understand. He stood up abruptly and dusted his hands on the knees of his jeans. A dark scowl creased his forehead. As if dismissing an unpleasant thought, he shook his head and let out a long gust of wind. “You’re still very attached to your ex-mother-in-law, aren’t you?” he observed.
Sheila jammed the cork back in the wine bottle and stashed it in the backpack. “I suppose so,” she said. “She’s Emily’s only living grandparent.”
“And that makes her special?”
“Yes.”
Noah snorted his disagreement as he picked up his pack and the light basket.
“Marian Coleridge is very good to Emily and to me. She adores the child, and just because Jeff and I split up doesn’t mean that Emily should have to sacrifice a good relationship with her grandmother.”
“Of course not,” was Noah’s clipped reply.
“Then why does it bother you?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Liar.”
“I just don’t like being reminded that you were married.”
“You’re reminded of it every time you see Emily.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Your child can’t be compared to your ex-husband’s mother.”
Sheila sighed to herself as they began walking back to the house. “I don’t want to argue with you. It’s pointless. I’m a thirty-one-year-old divorced woman with a child. You can’t expect me to forget that I was married.”
“I don’t. But then, I don’t expect you to constantly remind yourself of the fact.”
“I don’t.”
They came to a bend in the path, and Noah stopped and turned to face Sheila. He set down the basket and gazed into the gray depths of her eyes. “I think you’re still hung up on your ex-husband,” he accused.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
Sheila’s anger became evident as she pursed her lips tightly together. “The only reason I don’t like to talk about Jeff is that I’m not proud of being divorced. I didn’t go into that marriage expecting it to end as it did. I thought I loved him once, now I’m not so sure, but the point is, I had hoped that it wouldn’t have turned out so badly. It’scas if I’ve failed.” She was shaking, but tried to control her ragged emotions. She sighed as she thought of her daughter. “I am glad I married Jeff, though.”
“I thought so.” His blue eyes narrowed.
“Because of Emily!” Sheila was becoming exasperated. “If I wouldn’t have married Jeff, I would never have had Emily. You should understand that.”
“I didn’t get married to have Sean!”
“And I wouldn’t have a baby without a father.”
Noah’s jaw clenched, and the skin over his cheekbones stretched thin. “So you think Marilyn should have gotten an abortion, as she had planned.”
“No!” Didn’t he understand what she was saying? “Of course not. I don’t even understand the circumstances surrounding your son’s birth.”
“Is that what you want, to hear all the juicy details?”
“I only want to know what you’re willing to tell me and to try and convince you that I’m not in the least ‘hung up’ on Jeff. That was over long before the divorce.”
The anger in Noah’s eyes began to fade. His mouth spread into a slow, self-deprecating smile. “It’s hard, you know.”
“What?”
“Dealing with jealousy.” He looked into the distance as he sorted his thoughts. It was late afternoon; a warm sun hung low in the sky, waiting to disappear beneath the ridge of snowcapped mountains and he was with the only woman who had really interested him in the last sixteen years. Why did he insist on arguing with her? Why couldn’t he just tell her everything he felt about her—that he was falling in love with her and couldn’t let himself fall victim to her? Why couldn’t he find the courage to explain about her father? Why couldn’t he ignore the look of pride and love in her eyes when she spoke of her father? What did he fear?
Sheila was staring at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re trying to convince me that you’re jealouscof whatcnot Jeff?” If Noah hadn’t seemed so earnest, so genuinely vexed with himself, she might have laughed.
He was deadly serious, his voice low and without humor. “I’m jealous of any man that touched you.”
She reached down, picked up the basket and handed it to him. “Now who’s exhibiting ‘latent Victorian morality’?”
His dimple appeared as he carefully considered her accusation. “Okay, so you’re right. I can’t help it. I get a little crazy when I’m with you.” He reached for her, but because he was hampered by the picnic basket, she managed to slip out of his grasp. A few feet ahead of him, she turned and walked backward up the sloping, overgrown path. “Is that such a crime?”
“That depends,” she murmured, tossing her rich chestnut hair before lowering her lashes and pouting her lips provocatively.
He waited, his smile broadening, his dark brows arching. “Upon what?” he coaxed while striding more closely to her.
She touched her finger to her lips and then pressed it fleetingly to his. “On just how crazy you want to getc.”
“You’re wicked,” he accused, “seductively wicked.” This time, when he reached for her with his free hand, his steely fingers wrapped possessively over her forearm.
“Only when I’m around you,” she promised. A smile quirked on her full lips. “That makes us quite a pair, doesn’t it? Crazy and wicked.”
“That makes for an indescribably potent attraction,” he stated, drawing her closer to him. “Just where are you taking me? Didn’t you take the wrong turn back at the fork in the path a little while ago?”
“I wondered if you would notice.”
“Did you think that you had captivated me so completely that I would lose my sense of direction?”
“Hardly,” she whispered dryly.
“Is it a secret?”
“No.”
“Then why are you being so mysterious?”
“Because I’ve never taken anyone up here beforecaside from Emily.”
“What is it, your private part of the mountains?”
Sheila smiled broadly, slightly embarrassed. “I guess I kind of thought of it that way. It’s just a place I used to go, as a kid, when I wanted to be alone.”
Noah’s hand strengthened its grip on her arm. They followed the path around pine trees that had fallen across it and over a summit, until they entered a small valley with a clear brook running through it. The water spilled over a ledge from the higher elevations of the mountain, creating a frothy waterfall with a pool at its base. From the small lake the stream continued recklessly through the valley and down the lower elevations of the foothills.
They walked around the small pond together, arms linked, eyes taking in the serenity of the secluded valley. Noah helped her cross the stream, nearly slipping on the wet stones peeking from the rushing water. Once on the other side of the brook, Noah spread the blanket. They sat together near a stand of ponderosa pines, close to the fall of cascading water and able to feel the cool mist of water on their skin.
“Why did you bring me here?” Noah asked, his eyes following the path of the winding mountain stream.
“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to share the beauty of this place with youc. Oh, Noah, I just don’t want to lose it.”
Grim lines formed at the corner of his mouth. “And you think that I’ll take it away from you.”
“I think you have that power.”
Noah rubbed his thumbnail over his lower lip. “Even if I did, do you honestly think I would use it?”
Her eyes were honest when they looked into his. Lines marred her forehead where her brows drew together. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
She took in a steadying breath. “Yesc”
“But?”
“I don’t think you’re telling me everything.”
Noah tossed a stone into the pond and watched it skip, drawing circles on the clear surface of the water. “What do you want to know?”
“About Anthony Simmons’s report on the fire.”
“What if it isn’t complete?” he heard himself ask, damning himself for hedging. The truth should be so simple.
“It has to be. He hasn’t been here in two weeks. He strikes me as the kind of man who doesn’t give up until he finds what he’s looking for.”
“And you think he has?”
“I think that if he hadn’t, he would still be knocking on my door, digging through Dad’s records, asking his inane questions.”
Noah rested his forearms on his knees. “You’re right about that much.”
“And I’m right that his report is complete?” she asked, barely daring to breathe.
“Right again.”
“Well?”
“Well, nothing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m not convinced that Simmons’s report was conclusive. There are a few discrepancies.”
“Such as?”
Noah found himself lying with incredible ease. Was this how it started, with a single deception that multiplied and compounded until it became an intricate network of lies? Is this what had happened to his father? “Nothing all that importantcit’s just that the insurance company needs some more documents to support his theories. Until Pac-West is satisfied, the entire report isn’t considered valid.”
Doubts darkened her eyes and her confidence in him wavered. The trust he had worked so hard to establish was flowing from her as surely as sand through an hourglass.
“I assume that means that Mr. Simmons and his questions will be back.”
“Maybe not.”
“Noah.” Her voice was amazingly level for the sense of betrayal that was overwhelming her. “You’re talking in circles. Just tell me the truthcall of it.”
One lie begat another. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Then why did you come here? I thought you had news about the winery. I thought we could finally put the fire behind us.”
This time he didn’t have to lie. His eyes were a clear blue, filled with sincerity. “Don’t let the fire stand between us. I came here because I wanted to see you. Can’t you believe that?”
“Oh, God, Noah, I want to,” she whispered fervently. She let her forehead drop into the open palm of her hand. Noah’s heart turned over, as he witnessed her defeat. “It’s just that I feel that you’re holding back on me. Am I wrong? Aren’t there things you know that you should be sharing with me?”
He traced the sculpted line of her jaw with his finger. The curves of her bones neared perfection. “Just trust me, Sheila,” he stated, feeling the traitor he was. He tilted her head with the strength of one finger and pressed his lips against hers. His lips were gentle but persuasive. His seduction began to work. Against her will, she thought less of the fire and the damage to the winery and concentrated with a growing awareness of the man. She realized that he was pushing against her, that she was falling backward, but she knew that his strong arm would break her fall and before her back would encounter the plaid blanket and cold earth, he would catch her. She wanted to trust him with her life.
His hands parted her blouse, slipping the cotton fabric easily over her shoulders, and his tongue rimmed her lips, which opened willingly to his moist touch. His fingers grazed her breast and finally settled against it, warming her skin and causing her to moan. She trembled with need of him and felt contentment welling from deep within her when he unclasped her bra and pressed his flesh against hers, molding his skin to hers.
Her nipple hardened under his erotic touch, and he growled hungrily in the back of his throat. “You do make me crazy, you know,” he whispered against the pink shell of her ear. “You make me want to do things to you that will bind me to you forever,” he admitted raggedly. “I want to make love to you and never stopc. Damn it, Sheila, I love you.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat that had formed during his tortured admission. How could she possibly sort the fact from fiction? Tears began to collect in her eyes. “Youcyou don’t have to say anything,” she stammered, bracing herself for the denial that was sure to come once his passion had subsided.
“I don’t want to love you, Sheilacbut I just can’t seem to help myself.” His black brows knit in confusion as he looked down upon her, witnessing her tears and misreading them. “Oh, no, Sheila, darling, don’t cry.”
To still him and prevent any more half-truths to form on his lips, she kissed him, holding his head against hers and letting him feel the depth of her desire.
Her heart began to thud in her chest, and the blood rushing through her veins turned molten. His hands smoothed the skin over her breasts and down her rib cage, pressing against her with enough force to mold her skin tightly over her ribs and inflame the skin when his fingers dipped below the waistband of her jeans.
His lips followed the path of his hands, and his hungry mouth caressed each breast moistly as his tongue massaged a nipple. She felt the convulsions of desire rip through her body as he trailed a dewy path of kisses across the soft skin of her abdomen. Still, his hands kneaded her breasts. Involuntarily she sucked in her breath and arched against him. Her fingers pushed his shirt off his shoulders and dug into the hard, lean muscles of his upper arms.
When he removed her jeans, he tossed them aside and she sighed in contentment. Slowly he rose and took off his jeans, discarding them into a pile near hers. She stared at him unguardedly, devouring the contours of his tanned muscles as if her eyes were starved for the sight of him.
The sun was beginning to set, casting lengthening shadows across the valley. The fading light played over his skin, adding an ethereal dimension to the oncoming evening.
Noah was silent as he settled next to her and began caressing her with his lips and hands. He stroked her intimately, forcing the tide of her desire to crest, making the blood within her throb with fiery need as it pulsed through her body. They lay together, face-to-face, man to woman, alone except for the hungry need that controlled them.
He took her slowly, coupling with her as gently as if she were new to him. He waited until he felt her demand a faster rhythm, until he saw passion glaze her eyes, until the pain in his back where her fingernails had found his flesh forced him to a more violent, savage union.
Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, her body broke into a glow of perspiration, and the ache within her deepest core began to control her until she was rising with him, pushing against him, calling his name into the wilderness.
She began to melt inside, and convulsive surges of fulfillment forced her to cling to him. He groaned her name against the silken strands of her hair as he shuddered in an eruptive release of frustrated desire that turned his bones to liquid.
“I love you, Sheila,” he whispered over and over again. “I love you.”