The Wayward Son

by Yvonne Lindsay

  His mouth, when it captured hers, was gentle, coaxing, and Anna felt as if he’d lit a fire that ran through her veins. A small part of her had hoped his kiss would be disappointing—something that would make it easier to refuse his attentions. In all honesty, she had known to the depths of her soul that his touch would be like this—magic—and she wanted that magic with every cell in her body.

  She fisted her hands at her sides in an effort to prevent herself from reaching out and touching him. It would be too much, too difficult to step away from, but the way his lips teased hers invited her closer, and before she knew it, her hands were pressed against his chest, the fiery warmth of his skin burning through the expensive cotton of his shirt and letting her know that he could set other hidden parts of her aflame if only she’d let him.

  His chest muscles shifted beneath her hands as he lifted his other arm to curve around her waist, drawing her closer to him. Hip to hip, there was no denying he was as powerfully aroused as she. Tension built in her body, coiling tight as he deepened their kiss and coaxed her lips open with his probing tongue.

  He tasted of fine wine and illicit, unspoken promises. Promises that made her clench her thighs together against the swell of desire that rippled through her body before centering at the core of her belly. She rocked her pelvis against him, the movement a futile attempt to assuage the pressure building inside of her. Instead, it only incited her further. Anna kissed him back with a passion she’d never unleashed before, meeting his tongue with her own, letting him know that she was no innocent bystander in this assault on her senses.

  She lifted her hands from his chest, sliding them upward, over his shoulders and the strong column of his neck, and burrowed her fingers in his dark hair, holding him to her as his lips devoured hers, as hers did his. She pressed her body against him, her nipples taut and sensitive against the lace of her bra, her breasts aching for his touch.

  The call of a night bird punctuated the air, its unfamiliar sound bringing Anna back to her surroundings. Bringing her mind back to the task she’d been sent here to execute.

  She untangled her fingers from Judd’s hair, and let her hands drop to her sides once more. Their kiss, when it ended, was more bittersweet than she’d imagined, the loss of his caress felt deep inside. Judd rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed, his lips moist and slightly parted on an uneven breath. It would be so easy to kiss him again but she knew that if she did, it wouldn’t stop there. Not with this conflagration that had ignited between them.

  A kiss, a good-night kiss, was all it should have been and yet it had escalated into so very much more. She wasn’t in a position to let that happen. She didn’t dare explore this further, not without some truths between them, and she wasn’t ready to tell Judd exactly what she was here for just yet.

  The atmosphere between them was filled with possibilities, yet Anna knew she could choose only one. To say good-night and to let Judd go back to the main house.

  “Is this how you say good-night to all your guests?” she asked, in an attempt to lighten the mood that swirled around them.

  His lips quirked in a half smile and he lifted his head. “No, only you.”

  Three words. So simply spoken. The expression in his eyes so honest it went straight to her heart. She clamped down on the feeling, fighting it back so she wouldn’t succumb to the lure of the invitation in his gaze. Or to the physical plea that thrummed through every particle of her body.

  Her mouth dried. She had no idea of how to respond to him without it sounding careless and glib.

  “It’s okay, Anna,” he said, as if sensing her quandary. “It was only meant to be a simple good-night, nothing more. Unless you want it to be?”

  “I…I can’t. I—”

  “Don’t worry,” he interrupted. “I’m nothing if not a patient man. And you’re worth waiting for. But I promise you this—sooner or later we will make love, and when we do, it will be unforgettable.”

  His words left her speechless. Unforgettable? Oh, she had no doubt that sex with him would be off the Richter scale. She’d never been into casual encounters, not that anything about Judd Wilson was casual. For him, though, she might have considered it if he hadn’t been Charles’s son.

  Judd pressed his lips against her cheek, almost at the corner of her mouth. All she had to do was turn her head ever so slightly and she could let this lead to its natural and, no doubt, very satisfying conclusion. But she held firm and felt Judd’s unspoken acceptance of her refusal.

  “I’ll pick you up in the morning about nine,” he said, letting her go and taking a step away. “Sleep well.”

  She watched him leave, his long legs eating up the distance along the wide track that led back to the main house. When he was out of sight, she finally let her body sag against the door frame.

  Just hours ago, she’d arrived in Australia with one goal in mind—to convince Judd to come with her to New Zealand and reunite with his father. She still wanted—needed—to achieve that goal, but another need was taking over. A need to make the most of her time with Judd, to follow through on the attraction between them and see where it led.

  But she knew she couldn’t give in. So much rested on how Judd reacted when he learned why she’d come. If things between them got out of hand and he learned the truth too soon, she could inadvertently ruin all of Charles’s hopes for reconciliation. She couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down like that. Even if it meant closing the door on any chance to explore the sizzling attraction between her and Judd.

  Her fingers fluttered to her lips. She could still feel him, still taste him. And God, she still wanted him. How on earth was she going to get through an entire day in his presence without giving in?

  Three

  The V8 engine of his Aston Martin Vantage roadster purred as Judd drove slowly along the private road that led toward Anna’s cottage. A quiet smile of satisfaction played across his face—a total contrast to the frustration that even now held his body deliciously taut with expectation.

  He hadn’t felt this depth of attraction to a woman in a very long time. Actually, to be completely truthful, he’d never felt quite this level of need in relation to anyone else before.

  Today was going to be interesting, very interesting indeed. And tonight? Well, that had the potential to be even better.

  The faint burr of his cell phone distracted him. A quick look at the caller ID saw him ease his car to a halt and press a button on his hands-free kit to respond.

  “Good morning, Mother. I didn’t expect to hear from you this early.”

  Cynthia didn’t waste any time on pleasantries. “I know where she’s from.”

  “Who? Anna?”

  “Who else? I was certain she looked familiar, and now I know why. I knew her mother. She worked at Wilson Wines. She was just an office dolly back then—flirted outrageously with the traveling reps. She left when she married one of them, pregnant of course, but I always suspected your father had his eye on her. About three years after we got here I heard that when her husband died, Charles employed her as his housekeeper—like anyone expected that was the truth.”

  Judd tensed. Every time Cynthia mentioned Charles Wilson there was a tone to her voice that set his teeth on edge.

  “Did you hear me, Judd?”

  “Yes, I heard you. What do you expect me to do about it?”

  “Well, confront her, obviously. Her mother was living with Charles, ergo, so was Anna. Find out what she’s doing here, because I’d wager she isn’t here on holiday. It has to be something to do with your father.”

  He hated to admit it, but his mother could be right. Ever since they’d met, he’d suspected that Anna was hiding something. And the way she’d looked at him right at their first meeting was as if she was searching his face for a resemblance
to someone. Had she been comparing him to his father? He stilled the curl of anger at that thought and at the possibility that his family might be being used by Charles Wilson again. Instead, he channeled his heated emotions into a tool to hone his thinking.

  “I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry.”

  “I knew she was trouble the second I laid eyes on her,” his mother continued. “She’s probably working for him, you know. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised, if she’s anything like her mother, if she is warming his bed. He always did prefer younger women.”

  His mother’s words were acid in his ears. Cynthia had never let go of the bitterness she felt toward the man she’d left behind in New Zealand. He could still remember the first day he and Cynthia had arrived at The Masters’ and she’d pointed to the shell of the mansion up on the hill.

  Their house in New Zealand had been an identical replica of the original Masters home—a wedding present built under Charles’s orders for his beautiful bride. Seeing a wrecked, charred ruin of a house that looked so very much like the one he’d always known had been a deeply unsettling experience for Judd, especially when Cynthia told him that the ruin would be a constant reminder of what they’d all lost when his father had rejected them both and banished them back to Australia. And it was to be a constant target for all that he should strive to regain.

  His six-year-old mind had been unable to fully understand what she was saying, hadn’t grasped the depth of her obsession with the home she’d lost not once, but twice, and every day at The Masters’ he’d learned what it meant to be rejected by the man who’d fathered him. Whether it was the pitying gaze of his uncles and their sometimes overzealous attempts to be a father figure in his life, or the overheard remarks made by the staff from time to time when they didn’t know he was listening, he knew exactly what it felt like to be a castoff. He snapped his mind back to the present.

  “I said I’ll deal with it, Mother. By the end of today we’ll know exactly what she’s up to.”

  “Good. I know I can rely on you, Judd. Be careful, my darling.”

  Careful? Oh, he’d be more than careful. He disconnected the call and guided his car once more toward Anna’s cottage. He’d be so careful that Anna Garrick would hardly know what had hit her.

  Anna stood waiting for him on the patio of the cottage. She looked deceptively fresh and innocent, dressed in layers of light clothing. He knew she was anything but innocent, especially if her response to him last night had been anything to go by. He hoped she was up to a little heat, because today promised to be warm in more ways than one.

  She walked toward his car as he got out and opened the passenger door for her.

  “Nice wheels,” she commented.

  “I was always a James Bond fanatic as a kid.” He smiled. “Some things never get old.”

  She laughed and settled in the red leather bucket seat, its color a perfect foil for her chestnut-brown hair, he thought as he swung her door closed. As he got back behind the wheel she rummaged in her handbag, pulling out a long bamboo hairpin before twisting her long hair into a knot and securing it at the back of her head.

  “I can put the top up if you’d rather,” he said, his eyes caught on the elegant line of her neck, the perfection of her jaw.

  “No, it’s a beautiful day. Let’s make the most of it,” she answered with a smile that hit him fair and square in the gut and reminded him of just how uncomfortable it had been to walk back to the main house last night.

  “Good idea,” he agreed and maneuvered the high-performance sports car onto the driveway that led off the property. “You mentioned yesterday that it’s your first time in Adelaide,” he probed. “What made you decide to come here for a break?”

  She remained silent for a moment. From the corner of his eye he could see her press her lips together, as if she was holding back her instinctive answer and taking the time to formulate another.

  “It was suggested to me,” she said, averting her gaze out the side window.

  Oh, he’d put money on the fact it was suggested to her, and by whom. Even without the insight his mother had offered, it was Anna’s evasiveness that gave her away. He’d known that she had something to hide, and now that he suspected it involved his father, he was absolutely determined to find out what it was before the day was out. In the meantime, there was nothing, absolutely nothing, stopping him from having a good time along the way.

  As they turned out the driveway that led from the vineyard and out onto the main road heading toward the hills, he saw her gaze pulled up onto the ridge and to the silhouette of the devastated building that stood there. He waited for her to say something, to ask about what had happened. Everyone did, eventually. But she remained silent. The expression on her face was pensive. Some devil of mischief prompted him to comment.

  “It was magnificent in its day, you know.”

  “I beg your pardon?” She turned to face him.

  “Masters’ Rise, the house up there.” He let go of the steering wheel with one hand and gestured up toward the hills.

  “It was your family home?”

  Did she really not realize, or was she just bluffing? “Not that one, although I lived briefly in a replica of it back in New Zealand when I was young.” When she didn’t comment on that, he pointed back up the hill. “Masters’ Rise was destroyed before my time. My mother and uncles lived there as youngsters, though. I don’t think the family pride ever quite recovered from its loss. I know for a fact that my mother’s didn’t. And it wasn’t just losing the house—a good bit of the vineyard was destroyed, as well.”

  “It wasn’t as if they could have done anything to stop it, though, was there?”

  “Done anything?”

  “Well, it was a bushfire, wasn’t it?”

  He shot her a piercing glance.

  “At least that’s what I think I read somewhere,” she added hastily.

  Oh, good cover, he thought before slowly nodding.

  “They were lucky to escape with their lives,” he said. “Unfortunately, they didn’t have much else—well, not much else but the Masters’ tenacity. Rebuilding the house wasn’t an option—not when they had to recreate their entire livelihood, as well. It would have taken everything they had left and they were forced to choose between rebuilding their home or reestablishing the vineyards and winery.”

  “Tough choices. It’s a shame they couldn’t do both.”

  “Yeah.”

  Judd lapsed into silence. Wondering, not for the first time, how different life might have been if the Masters family hadn’t been forced into that decision. It couldn’t have been easy for his mother and her brothers, starting over from scratch, seeing the life of ease and plenty they’d enjoyed vanishing in a flash. Was that why it had been so easy for Charles Wilson to sweep Cynthia off her feet? Was the life of wealth and luxury he offered truly impossible for a girl, who’d spent so long struggling, to resist?

  “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Anna asked, her voice artificially bright. “Last night you mentioned Hahndorf, right? Where and what is it?”

  Judd flashed her a smile before transferring his attention back to the road in front of them.

  “It was originally a German settlement, established in the early eighteen hundreds. Much of the original architecture still survives and is used today. It’s not far from here, but I thought I’d take you a couple of other places first and then we’ll head back into Hahndorf for lunch.”

  “Sounds lovely, thanks. Really, I appreciate you taking time out of your schedule for me.”

  Judd reached out and caught her hand in his, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.

  “I want to get to know you better, Anna. Can’t do that stuck in my office, now, can I?”

  To his surprise, a flush of color spre
ad across her cheeks. She blushed? The ingenuousness of the act was totally at odds with the wanton he’d held in his arms last night. Yeah, there was no doubt about it. Anna Garrick intrigued him, and he liked being intrigued—even if it was by someone with a hidden agenda.

  Her fingers tingled beneath his touch and Anna felt heat surge through her body, staining her cheeks. God, this effect he had on her would be her undoing. She gently withdrew her hand, distracting herself by poking about in her handbag for a tissue. Her fingertips brushed against the envelope holding the letter from Charles and she pulled her hand out of the bag so rapidly she elicited another one of those piercing looks from Judd.

  “So,” she said, forcing her heartbeat to resume a more normal rate with a few calming breaths, “where are you taking me first?”

  He gestured to the highest peak ahead of them.

  “Mount Lofty. From there you’ll see the whole of Adelaide spread out before you.”

  Judd proved himself to be a very efficient tour guide. That he knew the area like the back of his hand was obvious, as was his love and appreciation of his surroundings. By the time they’d taken in the panoramic views of the city and beyond from the peak of Mount Lofty and then strolled through the exquisitely beautiful botanic gardens below, Anna was having a hard time reminding herself that this was no pleasure jaunt.

  Judd’s fingers were loosely linked in hers as they walked, and every nerve in her body went on high alert, focusing intently on the scant physical connection they shared. Wishing against everything that the connection could be deepened and intensified.

  She fought to regain control of her senses. She’d be crazy to embark on anything physical with Judd Wilson. Totally and utterly crazy. But no matter what her head told her, her body demanded something else entirely.

  In her bag, she felt her cell phone discreetly vibrate. The only person who would be calling her would be Charles. Her stomach lurched. Was he okay? He hadn’t looked well when she’d left Auckland yesterday. Extracting her fingers from Judd’s light clasp, she reached into her bag.