A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

Seventeen


He chased her down the hallway to the lobby, his emotions reeling. What in the devil was going on?

Before he could stop her, Zoe walked right up to a distinguished gray-haired man and greeted him evenly. “Hello, Father. I hear you’ve been looking for me.”

The elder Henshaw seemed taken aback. Zoe was wearing one of the dresses she had picked out in New York, and she looked both poised and confident.

“How dare you run from me?” the man said. It was bluster, but it sounded oddly weak.

Zoe eyed him with disdain. “There was no running involved, Father. I am a grown woman. My whereabouts are my own business.”

“You’ve worried your mother sick.”

Zoe didn’t rise to the bait. She had told Liam about the phone calls between mother and daughter, and he knew she would never say anything to get her mother in trouble.

Zoe tucked her hands in the pockets of her skirt, perhaps so her father wouldn’t see them shake. Liam knew her pretty well by now. Beneath her pretense of calm, she was very upset. “Why are you here, Father?”

“I want you to come home. I want you to join me in the business.”

“You know that’s not going to happen.”

“So you’re going to throw your life away? Is that what you want? To spend all your time flitting from one town to the next?”

Liam winced inwardly. Had Zoe seen Liam’s opinions as mirrors of her father’s disapproval?

She shook her head. “I enjoy my music and it makes people happy. What you do makes people want to kill themselves.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“I don’t think so. The last covert takeover you staged caused a very nice man to commit suicide.”

“You don’t understand the ins and outs of business.” His voice was haughty and patronizing.

Liam stepped forward. “I think Zoe would like you to leave.”

“And who the hell are you?”

“My name is Liam Kavanagh. I own the Silver Beeches. I won’t let one of our guests be harassed.”

“I’m taking my daughter home with me.”

“No, you’re not.” Liam took a deep breath. “Even the worst of fathers wouldn’t send his daughter to jail. She has the money, and she’ll give it back, won’t you Zoe?”

To his eternal astonishment, Zoe took a step closer to her father, as if to say clearly that Liam was not speaking for her.

Mr. Henshaw frowned. “What money?”

Zoe turned to Pierre who had been hovering nearby. “Would you please send someone to my room to retrieve my guitar? Everything else is still packed in my suitcase.” She faced her father. “I will go home with you because my vehicle is in the repair shop. I want to see Mother and let her know I’m okay. But you must understand that if you want me to have any kind of relationship with you at all, you’re going to have to find someone else to join you in the business. Is that clear?”

Liam watched as her father seemed to deflate. “You’ll change your mind.”

“No, Daddy. I won’t. And if you ever lay a hand on me again, or Mother for that matter, I’ll have you arrested.”

Liam realized that he had just witnessed a tiny kitten grow into a lioness. Zoe had found the courage somewhere to face down her father, and like most bullies, her autocratic parent caved when confronted by real confidence.

“What’s gotten into you?” Mr. Henshaw muttered. But it was a rhetorical question.

Liam took Zoe’s arm. “I need to speak with you...privately.” When she resisted, he was shocked. The irrepressible light of joy and happiness that lit her blue eyes from within was gone. “I won’t let him involve the police, Zoe. You don’t have to go with him.”

She jerked free of his grasp. “I have no reason to stay here.” Seven words. Seven flat, icy words.

“I don’t understand. Doesn’t your father want his money back?”

For a brief moment, a flame of anger and hurt broke through her mask of calm. Her lips trembled. “The money is mine, Liam. I inherited three million dollars from my grandmother when I turned eighteen.”

Before he could come up with a response, a bellman returned with Zoe’s luggage, and in minutes, she and her father were gone.

* * *

For his entire adult life up until this point, Liam had known exactly where to plot his course. He had a purpose and a mission. His job was to steer the Kavanagh fortunes and support his mother in the way his father never had.

In the wake of Zoe’s departure, he was lost. He spent days floundering in a sea of confusion and guilt. When the pain of losing her became too much, he hiked the mountains, trying to outrun the knowledge that he had let her down. He had called her a thief and a liar. All in the guise of being supportive. No wonder she had left.

As the days passed, several things became clear. He was as fallible as the next human being. And his father had not been an evil man. Liam’s dad had chased a dream with mortal consequences. He had betrayed his marriage vows. He had deserted his family. But his death was an accident. An awful, tragic accident.

One month to the day after Zoe walked out of his life, Liam stood in front of the Silver Beeches, keys in hand, ready to return Zoe’s at-long-last-repaired van to her. It would be a lengthy road trip, but he had a feeling that he needed the time alone behind the wheel to prepare for what would most likely be a chilly reception.

His mother, who had urged him to take an extended leave of absence, came outside to bid him goodbye. She ran her hand along the side of the vintage VW van painted aqua and white with yellow daisies. “Take all the time you need, Liam. I want you to be happy. Your brothers are nearby if I need them. You’re free, my dearest boy. God bless.”

He hugged her, feeling a trace of guilt for leaving, but more importantly, exhilaration and hope for the road ahead. “Thank you, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you, son. And if it’s any comfort, I’d stake my life on the fact that Zoe loves you, too.”

“I treated her badly.” His lack of faith in the woman he claimed to love still scored him with guilt.

“We all make mistakes, Liam. She understands that. Sometimes a simple, sincere apology means the world.”

“I hope you’re right.” The alternative didn’t bear thinking about. “I’ll keep you posted. Don’t work too hard.”

Maeve grinned, taking years off her age. “Work keeps me young. Now go. Get out of here. And don’t come back until I have at least some hope of having grandchildren one day.”

* * *

Zoe felt the sun warming her back as she knelt to pluck weeds from among the seedlings in her mother’s well-tended flower bed. The Henshaws employed a full-time gardener, but this monotonous task was one Zoe enjoyed. She let her mind wander, hearing the birds sing around her and smelling the piquant odor of freshly turned earth.

She realized that she was more centered, more at peace than the young woman who had slipped away on Christmas Eve so many weeks ago. Loving Liam had taught her to look inside herself for the truth of her emotions.


She didn’t hate her father, but they would likely never see eye to eye. Finally finding her backbone and dealing with him these last few weeks had not been easy, but Zoe’s reward was the way her mother had blossomed. The older woman smiled now.

Beneath the familial triumphs, though, was the ever-present ache of losing Liam. She missed him terribly. Without even realizing it, she had come to regard Silver Glen as home, and the head of the Kavanagh clan as her heart’s desire.

No matter how much she grieved, she knew she had been right to let him go. He still had doubts about her, perhaps because they were too different. In all fairness, some of the rift was her fault. She had kept too many secrets. She hadn’t trusted him quickly enough, nor deeply enough. She was tempted to go back to North Carolina and apologize for that, if nothing else.

But she didn’t want Liam to take her back for the wrong reasons. Though he’d said he loved her, she suspected that his declaration was the result of an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. She knew he wanted her. And perhaps he had convinced himself that what he felt was the real thing. The truth was, however, Liam took care of people. His mother, his family, the hotel... Zoe would be just another millstone around his neck.

She was in the zone, as they say, intent on her task, when two male feet appeared in her peripheral vision.

“Need a hand?”

The all-too-familiar voice sent a chill down her spine. She stood up slowly, wiping her fingers on the legs of her ancient, faded jeans. “Liam.” It wasn’t much of a response, but it was the only one she could come up with. Her heart leapt in joyful surprise, but her brain beat the girly response into submission. “What are you doing here?”

He looked so good it made her chest hurt. The only time she had seen him dressed so casually was the night she sang in Dylan’s bar. Today he wore a dark blue knit shirt that matched his eyes. His hair was a trifle longer than usual, and he looked tired.

With hands in his pockets, he regarded her intently. “I brought your van back to you. It’s parked out front.”

“Ah. Well, thank you.”

“I left Silver Glen a week ago and took my time getting up here. Toured Monticello. Caught a couple of museums in D.C. Saw the world’s largest Coke can in a little town in Jersey. Slept in your van almost every night.”

“I see.” But she didn’t. Not at all. Was he trying to tell her something? “How are you getting home?”

“I’m not going home. At least not yet.”

“Okay.” Still she was baffled.

His lips twisted. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about the money.”

She saw genuine regret on his face. “I overreacted, Liam. And I was partly to blame for your assumptions. It’s hard for me to trust people. If I had told you the truth sooner, you never would have thought I was a criminal.”

His theatrical wince made her smile.

“Criminal is a strong word. But tell me something, Zoe. Why did you carry all that cash?”

“That part is easy to explain. When my father and I first had our falling-out, not this past December, but earlier, I hit the road not wanting to be found. I knew if I used credit cards, he could trace me.”

“But you used one to check in at Silver Beeches.”

“True. So I guess a shrink would say I was tired of running.”

“No comment.” His smile was rueful. “Sorry I interrupted. Please continue.“

“Anyway, the first time I left, I withdrew a large sum of money from my own account and hid it inside Bessie.”

“Bessie?”

“That’s what I call my van. I’ve traveled the world enough to know that a single woman needs to have a backup plan for emergencies.”

“I hope you never have an emergency that big. Aren’t you wondering if your money is intact?”

“Is it?”

“Of course.” He ran both hands through his hair. “Gary thought I was insane when I asked him to paint the van. Again. To its original color.”

“That was sweet of you.”

“It seemed the least I could do.”

Zoe shifted from one foot to the other. Perhaps she should ask him in for tea, but she wasn’t at all sure why he had come, other than to return her vehicle. “Well, thanks again,” she said brightly.

His gaze grew stormy. “I told you I loved you.”

Like she needed reminding. “I know you did. But you’re a fixer, Liam. A caretaker. You see people in trouble and you want to help. I seemed like a desperate case, so you convinced yourself that you loved me and needed to save me from myself. It was a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. Very noble, but not legally binding.”

“Do you care about me at all?”

His steady question set her feet in quicksand. The more she struggled, the faster she would sink. “Of course. I had a lot of fun with you.”

“Fun.” He said it like a curse.

“You seem to be getting upset. Perhaps you should go.”

“Damn it, Zoe.” Without warning, he yanked her close, his strong arms binding her to him as he kissed her senseless.

She might have gotten too much sun already. Her mother always warned her to wear a hat. When she could finally catch a breath, she pushed her hands against his chest. But it was like trying to move Mt. Rushmore. “You don’t have to do this. I’m fine.”

He glared at her. “Well, I’m not. You waltzed into my life and painted it all the colors of the rainbow. After you left, everything was gray again.”

“You have a great life. Everything a man could want.”

“No.” He said it simply. “I don’t have you, Zoe.”

“You think I’m unfocused and lack ambition.”

He nuzzled her nose with his as his hands stroked up and down her arms. “I think you’re amazing, and just the person to plan our road trip.”

“Our road trip?” His kisses must have fired a few synapses.

“I’ve taken a sixty-day sabbatical from the hotel. My mother sends her regards.”

Zoe gaped. “But you love that hotel.”

He shook his head, his eyes filled with happy tenderness. “I love you. And at the risk of sounding egocentric, I’d like to know how you feel about me. Am I too much of a stuffed shirt for a pretty gypsy with sunshine hair and a voice like an angel?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I couldn’t bear it if things didn’t work out.” She didn’t want to get her hopes up. Walking away from him once had nearly destroyed her. And their relationship had been so complicated, it was hard to believe he loved who she really was.

“Then we’ll take a trial run. In Bessie. On the open road. Wherever you like.”

“Really?” It felt like Christmas and her birthday all rolled into one.

“Really. But I do have one condition.”

“That sounds ominous.” She patted his chest and rested her cheek over his heart.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” He backed away and fished in his pocket, extracting a small, elegant box. “That day in New York when you were studying French impressionists at the museum, I sneaked away and bought this. I know you need time to think about marrying me, but I want you to wear it.”

The ring was a flawless square-cut solitaire, at least two carats or more, surrounded by tiny sparkling stones. She barely breathed as he slid it onto the ring finger of her left hand. “Oh, Liam...”

He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Please, Zoe.”

“Please what?”

“You know what.”

She stared down at her hand, tilting and twisting it so that the sun caught the facets of the diamonds and sent prisms of color in every direction. When she looked back at Liam, he had his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was watchful.

Flinging herself into his arms, forcing him to catch her, she kissed him with every bit of the longing she had bottled up for the last few weeks. “Of course I love you, you big doofus. And if you ever get around to proposing, I’ll say yes.”

His eyebrows went up. “I thought I already did.”

“You alluded to it. That’s different.”

He was breathing hard, his face flushed. “Marry me, Zoe. Create babies with me. Sing to our children. Make love with me in our bed. You’ve taught me how to stop and smell the roses. Let me share my big, boisterous family with you.”

“Oh, Liam...”

“You already said that,” he teased.

“My parents will probably want a big society wedding. I am their only child, you know.”

“I can live with that. I just can’t live without you.”

He scooped her up in his arms and strode toward the front yard.

Zoe linked her arms around his neck. “Where are we going?”

“Bessie should be the first to know, don’t you think?”

“Well, she was responsible for bringing me to Silver Glen.”

“We’re never getting rid of this van,” he said fervently.

“Whatever you say, dear.”

He dropped her on her feet and backed her up against the door that concealed a huge chunk of cash. “Thank you,” he said, his lips brushing the tender skin below her ear.

“For what?”

“For being you, Zoe. For being you....”


* * * * *

If you loved this first Kavanagh novel, don’t miss Dylan’s story, BABY FOR KEEPS coming June 2014.

Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Janice Maynard and Harlequin Desire.

Don’t miss Janice Maynard’s first family saga, THE MEN OF WOLFF MOUNTAIN!





INTO HIS PRIVATE DOMAIN

A TOUCH OF PERSUASION

IMPOSSIBLE TO RESIST

THE MAID’S DAUGHTER

ALL GROWN UP

TAMING THE LONE WOLFF

A WOLFF AT HEART





All available now from Harlequin Desire!





Keep reading for an excerpt from WANTING WHAT SHE CAN’T HAVE by Yvonne Lindsay.





We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Desire story.

You want to leave behind the everyday! Harlequin Desire stories feature sexy, romantic heroes who have it all: wealth, status, incredible good looks…everything but the right woman. Add some secrets, maybe a scandal, and start turning pages!

Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Desire every month!

Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

Other ways to keep in touch:

Harlequin.com/newsletters

Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

HarlequinBlog.com





One


Alexis watched him from the doorway to the winery. Late afternoon sun slanted through the windows at the end of the room, illuminating tiny dust motes that floated on air redolent with the scent of fermented grapes. But she was oblivious to the artistic beauty of the setting—her focus solely on the man who worked on, unaware of her presence.

He’d changed. God, how he’d changed. He was thinner, gaunt even, and his signature well-groomed appearance had given way to a self-executed haircut, a stretched and faded T-shirt and torn jeans. His face obviously hadn’t seen a razor in several days. But then grief was bound to do that to a man—to diminish the importance of the everyday tasks he’d done automatically and replace them with indifference.

How could she help a man who was clearly long past any interest in helping himself?

The weight of what she’d agreed to do felt heavy and uncomfortable on her shoulders. She, the one who always willingly stepped up to the plate when everything went pear-shaped, was now thinking that perhaps this time she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

Straightening her shoulders, she shook off her doubts. Bree had turned to her in her time of need—had written a letter that begged Alexis to take care of her husband and the child she’d been on the verge of delivering should something happen to her, as if she’d known what lay ahead. While her best friend had died before Alexis could give her that promise, in her heart she knew she couldn’t refuse—couldn’t walk away. Even if keeping that promise meant putting her heart back in firing range from the man she’d been magnetically drawn to from the moment she’d first met him.

Raoul stilled in his actions. His attention shifted from the table of wine samples before him, his pen dropping from his hand to the clipboard covered in hand-scrawled notes that lay on the stark white tablecloth. He lifted his head and turned toward her, his face registering a brief flash of surprise together with something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a tight mask of aloofness.

“Alexis,” he said, accompanied by a tight nod.

“I came as soon as I heard. I’m sorry it took so long. I…” Her voice trailed away. How did you tell a man that it had taken almost a year to hear about the birth of his daughter and the death of the love of his life because you’d severed ties with his wife, your best friend since kindergarten, when it became too painful to see her happiness with him? That you’d “forgotten” to give her your new email address or the number to the cell phone you bought when your work started requiring more international travel because you couldn’t bear to hear any more about how perfect they were together? Because you had coveted him for yourself?

Because you still did.

She took a deep breath and swallowed against the lump of raw grief that swelled in her throat.

“I’ve been traveling for a while, ever since my business…” The words died at the expression on his face. Clearly Raoul could not care less about the success she’d been enjoying ever since her clothing line finally started taking off. “Bree’s letter caught up with me at my father’s house. It must have been following me around the world for the past year.”

“Bree’s letter?”

“To tell me about her pregnancy.”

Should she tell him also that Bree had begged her to watch out for her husband and her, at that time, as yet unborn child? That she’d somehow known that the aortic aneurysm she’d kept secret from her family would take her life in childbirth? One look at his face confirmed he hadn’t known of his wife’s correspondence to her.

“So, you’re back.”

Finally. The unspoken word hung on the air between them, both an accusation and an acknowledgment at the same time.

“My mother was ill. I made it back a few weeks before she died at Christmas.”

“I’m sorry.”

The platitude fell automatically from his lips but she sensed his shields go up even stronger. He didn’t want to know, not really. Not when he was still locked tight in his own sorrow, his own grief.

“I only got Bree’s letter last week and rang her mom straightaway. I’m here to help with Ruby.”

“The child already has a carer, her grandmother.”

“Yes, but Catherine needs surgery, Raoul. She can’t keep putting her knee replacement off, especially now that Ruby is getting more active.”

“I told her to find a nanny if she needed to.”

“And I understand you rejected every résumé she presented to you. That you wouldn’t even agree to interview any of the applicants.”

He shrugged. “They weren’t good enough.”

Alexis felt her temper begin to rise. Catherine had been beside herself with worry over what to do. The osteoarthritis in her knee caused constant pain and made looking after a small child more difficult every day. She needed the surgery as soon as possible, but that meant Ruby absolutely had to have a new caretaker. By refusing to look at the résumés, Raoul was ignoring his responsibilities—to his daughter, to her grandmother and to Bree’s memory. He looked at her again, harder this time. What on earth was going on behind those hazel eyes of his?

“And what about me? Am I good enough?”

“No,” he answered emphatically. “Definitely not.”

She pushed aside the hurt his blunt refusal triggered.

“Why? You know I’m qualified—I have experience caring for little ones.”

“You’re a dressmaker now, though, aren’t you? Hardly what the child needs.”

Wow, he was really on form with the insults, wasn’t he, she thought. Dressmaker? Well, yes, she still made some of her signature designs but for the most part she outsourced the work now. She’d trained as a nanny when she’d left school, and had completed a full year intensive academic and practical experience program because her parents had been opposed to her trying to make a career following her artistic talent alone. But three years ago, when her last contract had finished, she’d realized it was time to follow her dream. That dream was now coming to fruition with her clothing label being distributed to high-end boutiques around the country and in various hot spots around the world. But Raoul didn’t care about any of that.

“I’ve arranged cover for my business,” she said, sending a silent prayer of thanks to her half sister, Tamsyn, for stepping into the breach. “Catherine’s already hired me, Raoul.”

“I’m unhiring you.”

Alexis sighed. Bree’s mom had said he might be difficult. She hadn’t been kidding.

“Don’t you think it’s better that Ruby be cared for by someone who knew her mother, who knows her family, rather than by a total stranger?”

“I don’t care.”

His words struck at her heart but she knew them for a lie. The truth was he cared too much.

“Catherine is packing Ruby’s things up now and bringing them over. She thought it best if she settled here from tonight rather than having me pick up Ruby in the morning.”

Raoul’s face visibly paled. “I said no, dammit! No to you as her nanny, and definitely no to either of you living here.”

“Her surgery is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Ruby can’t stay at her grandmother’s house any longer. She needs to be home, with you.”

Raoul pushed shaking fingers through hair cut close to his scalp—shorter than she’d ever seen it before. His hand dropped back down again and she watched as he gathered himself together, his fingers curling into tight fists as if he was holding on by a thread.

“Just keep her away from me.”

Alexis blinked in shock. Catherine had said Raoul had little to do with his nine-month-old daughter aside from meeting the financial requirements of her care. But despite the warning, Alexis couldn’t come to terms with what she’d been told. Ruby had been born out of love between two wonderful people who’d had the world at their feet when they’d married only two and a half years ago. She’d attended their wedding herself. Seen with her own eyes how much they’d adored one another and, to her shame, had been stricken with envy. That Raoul virtually ignored Ruby’s existence was so terribly sad. Did he blame the little girl for her mother’s death? Or could he just not bear the constant reminder of how he had lost the love he and Bree had shared?


Alexis forced herself to nod in response to his demand and started back up the unsealed lane from the winery toward the house—a large multiroomed masterpiece that sprawled across the top of the hill. Catherine had already given her a key along with a hefty supply of groceries and baby products. She’d need to put everything away before Catherine arrived with Ruby.

Ruby. A sharp pain lanced through her when she thought of the baby’s cherubic face. A happy, healthy and contented child, she was obviously closely bonded with Bree’s mom. To look at her, one would never guess that she had faced so much trouble in her short life.

After a slightly early arrival, exacerbated by a postnatal infection, Ruby had spent the first few weeks of her life in an incubator, crying for the mother she would never be able to meet. Catherine had shared with Alexis her theory that the pitiful cries, piled on top of his own grief, had been too much for Raoul to bear. He’d withdrawn from his newborn daughter, leaving her care to his mother-in-law. Catherine had been Ruby’s sole caregiver ever since.

Transplanting her to her father’s house and into the care of someone else would have its challenges. Getting Raoul to acknowledge and interact with his daughter would be the hardest—and the most necessary.

They needed each other, Alexis was certain of that. Even though she could do nothing else for Bree, she’d make sure that Raoul stepped up to his responsibilities to his late wife’s memory and to the child she’d borne him.

She was here. He’d known that one day she’d come and he’d dreaded every second. Seeing her had cracked open the bubble of isolation he’d built for himself, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. He was unaccustomed to having to share this place with anyone but Bree—or, for the past year, Bree’s memory.

Two years ago, returning with Bree after their marriage to his roots here in Akaroa, on the Banks Peninsula of New Zealand’s South Island, had felt natural and right. He’d bought out his father’s boutique vineyard operation, allowing his parents to finally fulfill their lifelong dream of traveling through the wine-growing districts of Europe and South America, and allowing himself to settle in to what he’d seen as an enjoyable new stage in his career.

At the time, it had been a fun and exciting change of pace. Raoul had gone as far as he could go as Nate Hunter-Jackson’s second in charge at Jackson Importers up in Auckland. While he’d loved every minute of the challenges working in the wine purveyance and distribution network built up over two generations, his heart had always been locked in at the source of the wine.

After settling in following the wedding, Raoul had dedicated himself to the vines. Meanwhile, Bree had project managed the building of their new home, seeing to the finishing details even as Ruby’s anticipated arrival had drawn near.

At the start of his marriage, what he did here, wrapped in the science of blending his boutique wines, had been an adventure, almost a game. His work had been filled with the same exuberant hopes for the future as his marriage.

Losing Bree had shaken the ground under his feet, and his work had gone from a pastime to an obsession. Life was filled with twists and turns that were beyond his abilities to predict, but this…this was something he could control. He was working with known quantities, with wines that had been made in the stainless-steel vats behind him from the very grapes grown on vines that snaked down the hillsides to the harbor—terroir that had become as much a part of him as breathing. Work was stable, steadying. And when he’d finished for the day and returned to the house, he could sink back into his memories and his mourning. He’d never shared this home with anyone but Bree—and now he shared it with her ghost.

Alexis’s arrival changed all that. She was so vibrantly alive and in the moment that she made living in the past impossible. Even their brief conversation had been enough to make him feel self-consciously alert, keenly aware of the disheveled appearance he usually couldn’t be bothered to notice.

And aware of her in a way that filled him with shame. He hadn’t been the husband Bree had deserved, not entirely, not when—even though he’d kept it fully under wraps—he’d desired her best friend. Was it infidelity when a person only thought about another? He’d loved Bree, there’d been no doubt about that. Adored her, idolized her. Cherished her. But deep down inside, there’d been a primitive part of him that had craved Alexis Fabrini on a level so base he’d had to jam it down deep inside.

He’d been relieved when he’d heard Alexis had headed overseas—how, after her last contract as a nanny had neared completion, she’d changed career direction and had begun pouring herself into fashion design. Some of Alexis’s designs still hung in Bree’s closet. Bree had been so excited for her, albeit a little hurt and puzzled when Alexis let contact drop between them.

Living with Alexis would be hell. He gave a humorless laugh. What else was new? Just living was hell. Each day a torture. Each day a reminder that he’d failed in that most basic tenet of keeping his wife safe. Of ensuring her needs were put before his own.

He’d never made it a secret that he’d wanted a large family—and because he’d been so outspoken, so determined in his plans for the future she’d felt the need to keep a secret that would have made him change his mind. Given a choice between a family and Bree, he’d have chosen Bree every time. Yet she’d hidden the news about the aneurysm that killed her until it was too late, putting the baby’s life ahead of her own.

Ruby. He could barely think about her without being reminded of failure yet again. Drowning in his own grief, he hadn’t been able to bear the weak sound of her cries—or the bone-deep certainty that he would lose her, too. She’d been so ill at birth… It was better this way, he’d decided. To keep his distance and not risk the pain that would come if he got too used to having her in his life.

Raoul turned back to the table, to the wines he’d been sampling and assessing for what was his favorite part of wine production—the blending. He forced himself to settle back down in his chair, to study his notes and then to reach for another glass of wine.

Sour. He grimaced and took a sip of water, rinsing the bitter tang from his mouth before reaching for another glass. Again, sour. He threw himself against the back of his chair in disgust. He knew the flavor of the wine had little to do with his skills as a vintner and far more to do with his current state of mind. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, his working day was over—which left, what exactly? Time to go up to the house to reminisce about old times with Alexis?

His gut twisted at the very thought. Even so, he pushed himself upright and cleared away his work, neatly filing away his notes for tomorrow and rinsing out all the glasses, leaving them to drain on the rack before he started up the lane.

Alexis was in the kitchen when he got into the house. He could hear her moving around, opening and closing cupboard doors, humming in an off-key tone. It sounded so domestic and normal for a second he allowed himself to hope, to dream that it was Bree there in the kitchen.

But the second Alexis’s curvy frame came into the doorway the illusion was shattered.

“I can see why Catherine sent me up here with all this food. You had hardly anything in the pantry at all, and the fridge just about echoes it’s so empty. What on earth have you been living on? Thin air?”

He knew she was trying to be friendly but he armored himself against the attempt.

“I get by. I didn’t ask you to come here and criticize how I live.”

“No, you didn’t,” she said with a rueful twist of lush lips that were made for long, hot, hungry kisses.

Viciously he slammed a lid down on the thought. He wasn’t going there. Ever.

“By the way,” she continued blithely, “while I found Ruby’s room easily enough, I’m not sure which room you wanted me in. I went into one of the spare rooms but it looked like your things were in there.”

He hadn’t been able to bear returning to the master bedroom, not with all its memories of Bree.

“Take the room nearest the nursery.”

“But isn’t that the master suite?”

“I don’t use it, aside from storing a few clothes. I’ll take the last of them out of there for you.”

“Okay, do you need a hand? Maybe I could—”

“Look, I don’t want you here, and I certainly don’t need your help. Catherine’s decided you should take care of Ruby, but that’s all you’re here to do. Let’s just agree to stay out of one another’s way and everything will be just fine.”

He ground out the last word as if his life depended on it.

“Raoul—!”

“Don’t,” he said putting up a hand. “You’re here now and apparently I can’t do anything about that. But let me make one thing very clear. I don’t want your sympathy, Alexis. I’m all sympathied out.”

“I can see that,” she said. Her voice was dry and calm but he could see the shadows in her dark chocolate-brown eyes and he knew he’d hurt her.


He closed his own eyes briefly and dragged in a leveling breath. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh but it was his default setting these days. Living alone didn’t make one the best conversationalist, that was for sure.

The sound of a car outside heralded the arrival of his mother-in-law and, from the shriek and gurgle of laughter that followed the sound of a car door opening, the baby. His blood ran cold. His chest tightened making it hard to breathe.

“I’m going for a shower,” he said tightly, and left before Alexis could move to let Catherine and Ruby into the house.

He strode to his room and slammed the door behind him before moving to his bathroom and locking the door. He disrobed with a minimum of movement and stepped into the shower stall even as he turned on the faucets. The water, when it hit him, was chilling—painful—but that was nothing compared to the pain of the gaping hole inside him. Nothing at all.

He’d fought against this happening, having the baby here under the same roof, and he’d won the battle for so long. The nursery, so lovingly decorated by Bree, had never been used. He’d known, logically, that one day his defenses would be worn down, that he’d have to step up to his responsibilities as a father. He just never imagined those defenses would be stormed by the one woman in the whole world he’d hoped never to see again and yet still craved with a hunger he could never assuage.