by Beth Andrews
“Honey?” he asked, his voice husky from his having drifted off while she’d been showering. “Are you all right?”
Her throat closed, making it impossible for her to swallow, let alone speak.
She sensed him moving, heard the sounds of him flipping the covers back and getting out of bed. A moment later, his reflection joined hers as he stood behind her, his short silver hair sticking up on the side, his white T-shirt wrinkled, his expression concerned. And loving. So much love.
“Diane?” He gently laid his hands on her bare shoulders, hurt crossing his face when she eased forward, away from his touch.
“What happened to me?” she murmured.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
That was Al. If he didn’t understand, he said so. He was happy to stand back and gather all the information he needed before offering his advice or a helping hand. Not so with Tom. He’d preferred action over words. If she had a problem, he would do everything in his power to fix it for her. Never mind that half the time he’d had no idea what he was fixing. He’d loved her. And while she couldn’t honestly say he would’ve liked Al had they known each other, he would want her to move on with her life. To be happy and loved again.
Even for a short time.
“How did I turn into that?” she asked with a nod toward her reflection. “One day I woke up and there was this strange woman staring back at me from the mirror. I don’t even recognize myself.”
Al didn’t try to touch her again, but he did step closer so that she could feel his body heat at her back. “Time passes, and when it does, it puts its stamp on us. Our personalities, our dreams. And our faces.”
She almost smiled. One of the best things about being involved with an ex-politician was that he always knew the right thing to say. “It’s not that I can’t handle a few wrinkles. Wrinkles are a rite of passage. I’ve earned each and every line. But jowls? I’m beginning to look like a bulldog. Worse. I look like my grandmother.”
With both hands, he brushed her hair back, then held her gaze in the mirror. “You’re beautiful.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or call him out for being a liar. Except he wasn’t lying. His voice was husky, his eyes dark with desire. She knew if she stepped back, if she brushed against him, his body would be tight with arousal.
She wasn’t beautiful, had never needed to be. But Al thought she was. To him, she was a sexy, desirable, strong woman.
Nothing could be further from the truth. She wasn’t strong. She was a coward. Worse than that, she was a liar. Had been lying to everyone for weeks now. Al deserved so much more than her evasions.
He deserved so much better than what she had to offer. She just hoped he didn’t realize it. That she didn’t lose him.
She met his hazel eyes in the mirror. “Al, I…I’m not sure I can go through with this,” she said, pushing the words out before she lost her nerve. She swallowed, but it still felt as if there was a pebble lodged in her throat. “I’m not sure we should get married.”
Taking her by the shoulders, he gently turned her to face him. Searched her eyes. “You want to call off the wedding?” he asked in his smooth voice. There was no anger in his tone, no accusation. Just compassion. He knew how difficult this was for her.
“No. I want to marry you. That’s why I hired Yvonne and moved up the date of the wedding. I…I wanted to tie you to me as soon as possible.”
“I’m already tied to you. I want to be tied to you. Double knots,” he assured her, so somberly she knew it was his poor attempt at humor. He took her hands in his and frowned. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you dressed, maybe go downstairs, have a glass of wine. Then we can talk this all out.”
She was cold, her fingers numb with fear. She wanted to go with him. To let him help dress her. To be pampered. For once, she wanted to be taken care of. But that would be the easy way out and she couldn’t do that. Not any longer.
When he let got of her hands and bent to pick up her forgotten towel, she grabbed hold of him again, her fingers tight on his wrists. “I’m scared,” she told him, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Of marrying me?”
“Partly. I don’t want you to regret marrying me. I don’t want to trap you into something, into a life you didn’t expect.”
“I know exactly what I’m getting into,” he said. “I want to be your husband, for us to live the rest of our lives together. You are what I want.”
“I want you, too. So much.” With her eyes on his, she slowly raised his hand to her right breast.
His gaze heated and lowered to the sight of his hand on her, his fingers twitching against her skin. Before, she would’ve pressed more fully into his hand, demanding more of his touch. Now, she moved his hand down. He jerked his eyes back to hers, the desire in them replaced by confusion. Then realization. And fear.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said gruffly, as if saying it and meaning it would make it true. He kept his hand on her, his touch gentle but firm, as if he was searching for something, anything that would reassure him. Or maybe, as she’d done when she’d first discovered it, he was trying to convince himself that the lump on the underside of her breast didn’t really exist. “When did you first notice it?”
She wrapped the damp towel around herself. “Three weeks ago.”
“You’ve known for three weeks and you didn’t say anything?” he asked incredulously. “Tell me you’ve seen a doctor. Or at least made an appointment.”
She hugged her arms around herself, but still felt as if she’d never get warm again. “I couldn’t,” she admitted hoarsely, her shame at her own weakness threatening to overwhelm her. “I’m too afraid. I don’t think I can handle them telling me it’s…”
God, she couldn’t even say it.
“You’ll handle it,” he said, crossing to the nightstand and picking up his cell phone. He waved it at her. “You can handle anything. You’re the strongest woman I know.” He put on his reading glasses and searched for something on his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the president of Georgetown University Hospital.” Al pressed a button, then held the phone to his ear.
“But it’s after ten.”
“I don’t care how late—Erin,” he said into the phone. “It’s Senator Allen Wallace.”
While he spoke to the other woman, Diane went to the dresser and pulled a silk nightgown over her head before dragging a brush roughly through her damp hair. If any of her sons saw Al taking over, and her letting him, they wouldn’t believe it. She was having a hard time believing it herself. It was such a relief.
The brush got stuck on a tangle. Her eyes watered as she pressed the bristles against her scalp and pulled it through the knotted hair. She used to think she could take on the world and come out on top. Barely nine years ago she’d had her future mapped out as clearly as Aidan mapped out the vineyards. She’d been positive Tom and Matt would eventually reconcile, that Brady would come back from Afghanistan whole and that Aidan and his young bride would decide they’d had enough of Savannah and want to settle down closer to his family. At least one of her sons, she was sure, would come to his senses and take over the Diamond Dust. Until that happened, she and Tom would run it together.
She’d had everything.
Then Tom had gotten sick. And when he died, she hadn’t been able to face that future without him. There were so many days she wasn’t sure she wanted to face it alone. She’d learned what type of person she truly was. The type who would let one son give up his own dreams in order to keep his father’s business running, and threaten to kick another son off her property if he didn’t get the help she wanted him to have. Someone who would manipulate and blackmail a third son into becoming a part of that company.
She wasn’t as strong as she’d always prided herself in being. The realization was humiliating. Infuriating. And so very humbling.
“Erin’s going to look into getting you a
n appointment, but it won’t be until Friday,” Al said as he clicked off his phone. “We’ll head up to D.C. tomorrow.”
Diane’s stomach pitched but she nodded. “We’ll leave after lunch.”
“You’ll tell your sons.”
It wasn’t a request. Unfortunately, she’d never been one to take orders well. “I’ll tell them after we know what we’re dealing with.”
Al’s expression darkened. “Diane…”
“No sense in worrying them unnecessarily.” With her lips pressed together, she set down the brush carefully instead of heaving it across the room like she wanted. “Weren’t you the one who said it was probably nothing anyway?”
He didn’t even blink at her obstinancy. “I’m going with you to your appointment. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
He knew her so well. Understood that she couldn’t admit how much she wanted him there. Needed him.
She hadn’t the faintest idea how she’d been so lucky to experience such a strong love a second time. But she’d do all she could to enjoy and appreciate that love in every minute she had left.
She cupped his handsome face, his whiskers scratching her fingers. “Make love to me, Al,” she whispered. “Please make love to me.”
His gaze serious, he searched her face. “Are you sure?”
Once again she placed his palm on her breast, then laid her hand over his. “I’m sure.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“FUNNY HOW I keep seeing this particular side of you.”
Leaning into the backseat of her car, her butt sticking out the door as she reached for a binder that had slid onto the floor, Yvonne reared up and rapped her head against the top of the door frame. Tears of pain stung her eyes.
Tossing the binder onto the seat, she straightened and glared at Aidan, though it probably had no effect, since she was wearing sunglasses. Then again, she doubted it would’ve had any effect without them, either. “Yes. That is quite funny.”
Hilarious, really, that he’d sneaked up on her twice while she was in a vulnerable position.
He rocked back on his heels, the sun highlighting the gold in his short hair.
“I’m sure Tony and Terry appreciated the view, too.” Aidan nodded to her right, where two men sat on the tailgate of a pickup eating lunch. The one with a beard grinned and waved before going back to his sandwich. The other man, older and a lot heavier, lifted a thermos in salute.
Blushing, she smiled weakly, then turned back to the car. “I take it Tony and…”
“Terry.”
“Yes, Terry. They’re employees of yours?”
“They work for the Diamond Dust.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Is there a difference?”
“For the time being.”
She had no idea what Aidan meant by that. And as it wasn’t any of her business, she wasn’t going to try and figure it out. But he was watching her, his expression unreadable. It made her nervous. He made her nervous.
Always had.
“I have a lunch appointment with your mother,” she said.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” She gritted her teeth. “That is so.”
Because she had no other choice, she once again reached into her car for the items she needed for her meeting. Her purse and laptop, several bulky binders and two large posters she’d used to make inspiration boards. Struggling to carry it all, and flustered that Aidan was witnessing her doing so, she used her hip to shut the door. Shook her hair out of her eyes.
“If you’ll excuse me?” she asked before walking away, her legs unsteady.
Her purse slid from her shoulder to hang heavily on her elbow.
Aidan came up beside her, sighed heavily and took the binders.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said as she hurried after him.
He didn’t so much as slow down. “Consider it my good deed for the day.”
Though he sounded less than pleased to be playing Good Samaritan, she wasn’t about to argue with him. Especially since those binders were awfully heavy.
He was so quick across the cement driveway, she soon lagged behind, unwilling to scurry after him in her heels. She glanced at his back, the broad line of his shoulders, the sliver of skin visible at the nape of his neck. Her fingers twitched. She knew what that skin felt like. How soft it was. How much he liked to be touched there. Kissed there.
Warmth suffused her and she yanked her gaze up to the Sheppards’ large, plantation-style house. To distract herself, she took inventory: two stories, wide porches on both the ground and upper level, a dozen tall, narrow windows, black shutters and a deep blue front door surrounded by leaded glass. It was intimidating. Like its sole occupant.
Still, the small additions of a twiglike wreath on the door, a wooden swing on the porch and gauzy curtains hanging in the lower windows gave the house a warm, welcoming feel.
Except no matter what Diane said, Yvonne knew she wasn’t welcome.
She caught up with Aidan on the porch. Knew he was waiting for her to get the door but she couldn’t make herself go inside. Not yet. “Do you have today off?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Oh. It’s just…you don’t look like you’re working,” she heard herself say of his dark jeans and hunter green flannel shirt, his hair sticking up on the side, his cheeks pink from the cool breeze.
“Because I’m not wearing a suit?” he asked in a tone she couldn’t decipher. “Or at least a tie?”
She slid her purse strap up to her shoulder. “Because you’re all…mussed.”
He smiled. It was brief, and if she wasn’t mistaken, it only seemed to upset him that he’d done it. But it was a real smile. One that made him look younger. More approachable. And with his hair, his face flushed, it reminded her of how he’d look after they made love. When he used to smile at her as if he couldn’t wait to do it again.
“We’re pruning.”
She frowned. “But…don’t you have employees who…work the fields for you?”
“Yes. But this isn’t a Fortune 500 company. We all pitch in where we have to.”
She went to tuck her hair behind her ear, only to remember she’d worn it back. Feeling like a fool, she lowered her hand. “No. Of course. I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t capable of physical labor or…or not involved in all aspects of your business.”
His jaw tightened. “Maybe if you’d shown even the slightest interest in my job, you’d know that being president of a small winery means more than sitting behind a desk pushing papers. At least it does to me.”
She stiffened. She should walk away. That’s what her mother would want her to do. What Aidan expected her to do.
“It’s amusing how you expected me to have such an active involvement in your career when you had so little concern for mine.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked incredulously. “I asked you to work at the winery, remember?”
How could she forget? Shortly after Tom’s death, Aidan had offered her a position taking care of the books. She’d almost accepted it, had been so pathetically eager to be a part of the Diamond Dust. But by then she’d realized that no matter what she did, she would never belong.
Besides, she hadn’t wanted to face Aidan’s disappointment and her own feelings of not living up to the standards he’d set for her.
“Well, considering how things turned out, I suppose it’s for the best I declined your generous offer. And while I appreciate your assistance with my things, I think it’s best if I carry my own weight from now on.”
She held out her hands, and after a moment, he transferred her things back to her before going inside, leaving the door open after him.
Leaving her standing there, remembering how, to her husband, the person she was hadn’t been good enough.
AIDAN STRODE THROUGH the foyer, but stopped before turning the corner to the kitchen when he heard voices coming from the other room. Including Connie’s and Matt’s an
d his mother’s. He did a few slow neck rolls to ease the tension tightening his shoulders, then did an about-face and took a step back the way he’d come.
No. He wasn’t going out there. Just because Yvonne had surprised him with how she’d stood her ground didn’t mean she’d changed.
He’d offered her a position at the winery the summer after his father died because he did care about her career. About her. She’d seemed so unhappy with the job she’d had as human resources director at Jewell Hospital.
She’d seemed so unhappy, period.
But she hadn’t complained about it. No, she’d distanced herself from him. Went somewhere inside herself that he couldn’t get to. The harder he tried to get her to open up to him, to tell him what was bothering her, the further she withdrew. And while he saw their relationship deteriorating right before his eyes, he’d been powerless to stop it.
Then, less than a year after they’d moved to Jewell, eight months after his father died and Aidan had taken over the winery, he’d arrived home to find her packed bags in their foyer.
I no longer want to be married to you.
Maybe he should’ve gone after her. Should’ve followed her to Savannah, told her he loved her and didn’t want her to go. Or maybe the ending of their marriage had been the right move on her part. Maybe her parents had been right—they’d been too young to get married just six months after they’d met, a few days after Yvonne graduated from the University of South Carolina, where he attended law school….
Yvonne still hadn’t come inside. He wondered if she’d decided to skip her lunch meeting with his mom. If she’d figured out yet what lay ahead for her.
Not his problem. He turned the corner into the large family room. It opened up into a spacious kitchen with tile floors, oak cabinets and a granite-topped island. The huge refrigerator, double wall ovens and six-burner stove were stainless steel, as shiny as if they’d never been used. A large table took center stage in the breakfast nook, where light poured in through the three walls of floor-to-ceiling windows.