by Beth Andrews
“I’m an open book,” she snapped. “What you see is what you get.”
What everyone wanted to see. Who everyone wanted her to be.
“What I saw Friday night was a woman so cold a grape would freeze in her hand.”
“I was being polite,” she insisted, though his words stung. “I hadn’t realized that was a bad thing. Perhaps the next time I run into you and your…and Marlene, I should be nasty.”
“At least that would be real.” He edged closer. Yvonne stood her ground. “Did you feel anything, seeing me with Marlene?”
Her heart raced. “What do you want me to say, Aidan?”
“The truth. Here, let me show you how it’s done.” He touched her hair as lightly as a spring breeze, his gentleness in contrast to his hooded eyes, the harsh line of his mouth. “When I heard you’d been engaged, when I saw Mark flirting with you, when I saw you flirting back—”
“I was not flirt—”
“I was…upset.”
“You were upset?” she asked incredulously. “My goodness. That certainly was brave of you. Being so honest and all.”
His eyes glittered and she worried she’d pushed him too far. “I was pissed,” he muttered. “Jealous.”
Her mouth went dry. “Is that what you want? Me to be jealous of your relationship with Marlene?”
“I want you to stop giving practiced responses. React. Prove you’re human.”
No, he wanted her to rip herself open, to give him everything that was inside her while he stood back and judged whether that was enough. Whether she was enough.
She never was.
She tried to brush past him but he blocked her. “Excuse me, but I have a few things—”
“What happened with your engagement?”
“I told you. It didn’t work out.”
“He cheat on you? Beat you?” Aidan’s eyes were narrowed. “Or did you just wake up one day and decide you no longer wanted to be engaged?”
“Is that what you think?” she whispered. “That I woke up one day and decided I didn’t want to be married to you anymore?”
But she wasn’t going to explain why she’d left. That would expose too much of herself. It was too late. Besides, nothing had changed between them.
His jaw tightened. “We’re talking about your fiancé.”
“I didn’t love Blake,” she said. “And he didn’t love me.”
“And yet you were engaged to him.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
He appeared to be surprised by her sarcasm. “Wasn’t your fiancé enough for you anymore? Did you get bored? Or were you waiting for someone better out there?”
“Did I hope there was someone better out there?” she repeated shakily. “Yes, I did. I hoped there was someone who loved me for who I am. Not for what I look like or who my parents are or who someone thinks I should be.”
That was all she’d ever wanted. It had just taken her failed marriage and her disastrous engagement for her to realize nobody like that existed.
“Poor little princess,” Aidan murmured. “Having trouble finding your Prince Charming.”
Her head snapped back as if he’d slapped her. She made to go around him but he stepped in front of her. “Again. I’d like to leave now.”
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of pushing past him or raising her voice, though her throat burned with the need to scream. She wanted to pound against his chest.
He finally moved and she moved past, only to hear him curse under his breath. He caught her by the elbow. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
His soft tone, the feel of his fingers on her arm, the familiar scent of his aftershave, all combined to undo her. “No. You shouldn’t have. But then, you’ve had no qualms before this of sharing your bad opinion of me, so why start now? You’re so arrogant,” she said, the words spilling out before she could censor herself. “So superior with your rigid sense of right and wrong. There are no gray areas for the mighty Aidan Sheppard.”
Tightening his hold on her, he yanked her to him. She pressed her palms against his chest, and could feel his heart beating strongly. “You left,” he growled, lifting her to her toes. “You. Left.”
“And you can’t forgive me. You want to stay angry, that’s your choice. You want to put the failure of our marriage squarely on my shoulders? I’ll carry that burden, because I did leave. You want honesty?” she cried hotly. “You want the truth? Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was also the best decision of my life.”
HER WORDS WERE LIKE a punch in the gut. She didn’t regret leaving him. While some days, all he had was regrets.
“Why did you have to come back?” he asked in a low voice as he pulled her even closer. Her hands were trapped between their chests, her nails digging into his skin. “You should’ve stayed away.”
“I thought you needed me.” Her eyes closed, shutting her off as effectively as a brick wall. “I thought your mother, your company, needed me.”
The pressure building in his chest threatened to explode. She was always so cool, her facade firmly in place so no one could see past it. She’d never even let him see past it. And all he could think of was shaking her until that facade cracked.
“It’s always about you. What you want. Your choices.” His tone was husky. He couldn’t take his eyes from the pulse beating wildly at the base of her neck. “What about what I want?”
“What’s that?” she whispered.
He lifted his gaze, met her eyes. They were so dark they were almost black, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. Her breath washed over his mouth.
She didn’t try to twist away or slap or scratch at him. Not Yvonne. She’d never lower herself that way. She just stared at him, her body stiff and unyielding.
He wanted to kiss her. To lose himself in her sweet-smelling skin, her lush curves. Her heat. To pretend she was just another woman, that when she’d left she hadn’t taken a piece of him.
“I want to forget you,” he told her bluntly.
She nodded. “I want to forget you, too.”
Her voice was soft, sad. With his eyes locked on hers, he slowly lowered his head. She didn’t push him, didn’t jerk away. Her lips parted.
Sliding his hands up her arms, he cupped her face. And then he kissed her. Kept it controlled, just a faint brush of his mouth against hers. Then another.
All he could think of was being with her.
Except she’d be on her way in less than two months and he’d be damned if he’d let her break his heart before she left this time.
He dropped his arms and eased back. “Now’s your chance to make another of your great escapes.”
Hurt flashed in the depths of her dark eyes before she turned and made her way to the door, her sneakers silent on the wood floor. But when she reached it, she paused.
“You’re so busy blaming me, staying angry at me. Wondering about my broken engagement, my reasons for coming back here. And yet there’s one question you’ve never asked.”
“And what’s that?”
“Why I left.”
THE NEXT SUNDAY, Yvonne climbed out of her car and walked around to the backyard of the Sheppards’ house. The sky was overcast, the sun unable to break through the thick clouds, giving the air a chill. She patted her bag, felt the reassuring shape of her umbrella.
Passing the side of the garage, she peeked inside and noticed Diane’s boat of a Town Car parked at one end. Though her ex-mother-in-law had been back from Washington for nearly a week, she’d yet to become involved with any wedding plans. Honestly, it was as if the older woman didn’t care what flowers she carried or which song was played during the first dance. The other day, Yvonne had had to stop herself from shaking Diane in order to get her to choose between the white butter cake with mocha filling and the almond cake with vanilla filling.
If all her clients were this unconcerned about the most important day of their lives, she’d go crazy.
&nb
sp; Not that Yvonne was afraid to make the choices, she assured herself as she stepped around a muddy spot in the yard. But she prided herself on making her brides’ dreams come true. And that was impossible to do when the bride refused to participate in her own dream.
Irritated, Yvonne held her breath for the count of five. Her heart rate slowed. Other than Diane’s marked lack of interest, everything was going smoothly.
Which, in Yvonne’s experience, meant at any minute it would all blow up in her face. She wrinkled her nose. Aidan always used to tell her not to worry so much. To take things as they came. But she preferred planning ahead, seeing the obstacles in front of her so she could avoid them.
When she’d accepted Diane’s offer, she’d known it would be difficult being around Aidan so much. That being in Jewell would bring back memories of their shared past. What she hadn’t counted on was the attraction between them. She was afraid if she gave in to it, she’d find herself back where she was seven years ago.
Shaking her head to clear it, she turned the corner and scared a robin pecking for food on the hard ground into flight. The best thing was to be strictly professional with Aidan. And she’d found the easiest way to do that was to avoid him as much as possible.
What could she say? Avoidance worked for her.
She hurried toward the back door, barely slowing when she spied Lily lying on the veranda. The dog lifted her head, her tail wagging.
Yvonne frowned. “Uh…hello, Lily.” While she knew people talked to their pets all the time, it still felt slightly uncomfortable to be speaking to something that couldn’t speak back. “I’ll just…scoot around you, if you don’t mind.”
If the dog did mind, she didn’t show it. Just laid her head back down. Yvonne tapped on the door. A moment later, Diane opened it. “What have I told you about knocking?” she asked in a clearly exasperated tone.
Yvonne blinked. “Excuse me?”
“As long as you’re coming and going during the day, just let yourself in.”
“Right. Sorry.” She followed her into the kitchen.
Diane had told her that one day last week, when Yvonne stopped in to show her the finished invitations. She just hadn’t taken her seriously. And even if she’d thought Diane truly didn’t mind people traipsing in and out of her home unannounced, Yvonne couldn’t blithely walk into a house where she’d never felt welcome.
But she’d interrupted Diane, she saw now, taking in the metal mixing bowl, utensils, measuring cups, canisters and opened jar of peanut butter on the island. Baked cookies cooled on wire racks, the smell filling the air. Batches ready for the oven were lined up with military precision on baking sheets—three across, four down.
“I’m sorry,” Yvonne repeated. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“Answering the door isn’t a bother.” Diane’s face was pale, her mouth pinched. “It’s just easier with so many people coming and going all the time if I don’t have to do it.”
Feeling unduly chastised, Yvonne stiffened. Would she ever earn this woman’s respect? “Of course.”
The sound of the television caught her attention and she glanced into the family room. Two young girls with dark hair sat on the floor, a board game between them, their full attention on the cartoon on TV.
“What can I do for you, Yvonne?” Diane asked. She sounded put out, as if she didn’t want her there.
She wished the floor would swallow her whole. “I’m meeting Connie,” she murmured, twisting her fingers together.
“She’s not here.”
Yvonne checked the time on her cell phone. “Perhaps I’m a few minutes early.”
“No. I mean she’s not at the Diamond Dust. She and Matt had to take Connie’s mother to the hospital. That’s why I have the girls.”
The girls who, Yvonne noticed, were now watching her avidly. Yes, she saw Connie in them. The one with glasses had the look of her mother, with her brown hair and sharp features while the smaller one had Connie’s dark blue eyes.
Yvonne just hoped for their sake they hadn’t inherited their mother’s unpleasant disposition.
“I can’t believe how old Connie’s children are,” she said. “She was pregnant with her first one when…”
When Yvonne and Aidan had been married. When she’d left.
“That would be Payton,” Diane said with a nod toward the girl with the glasses. “Abby is her younger sister.”
They were still studying her. But unlike the stares of adults, theirs held no judgment or expectation. She smiled. “Hello, Payton. Abby. I’m Yvonne. I’m a…coworker of your mother’s.”
“Do you want to play Monopoly?” Payton asked, scrambling to her knees. “It’s more fun with lots of people.”
Yvonne glanced at Diane for help, but the other woman had her back to them as she slid a cookie sheet into the oven.
Yvonne walked toward the girls so she could get a better look at the game board. “Actually, I—”
“She can’t,” Aidan said as he walked into the room from the hall. His jeans were dark, his deep green sweater bringing out his eyes. “I’m taking Yvonne on a tour of the vineyard.”
“You are?” she asked.
“I am.” He looked at her in amusement—he’d heard the dismay in her voice. And didn’t that make for a promising start to her afternoon? “How about I play with you ladies when I get back?”
“Okay,” Payton said with a sharp grin, while Abby ducked her head.
A cell phone on the kitchen island rang. Diane looked at the readout, then wiped her hands on a towel. “I have to take this,” she said to Aidan as it rang again. “Could you please wait until the buzzer goes off, then take the cookies out of the oven before you leave? Girls,” she called, already walking into the hall, “I’ll be right back.”
“Can we go outside and play?” Payton asked, but Diane was already gone. The little girl looked to Aidan, who nodded.
Payton had raced out of the room before Abby got to her feet. A moment later, the older girl returned with their coats, one of which she tossed over her sister’s head. Once they were dressed and had their shoes on, they ran outside, slamming the door so hard behind them, the walls shook.
Yvonne winced. “They certainly are…rambunctious. But cute,” she added quickly, mostly because it was true and only partly so he didn’t think she was some evil woman who hated children. “Very cute.”
He picked up a cookie and broke it in two. Steam wafted from the center. “I didn’t know you liked kids.”
She refrained—barely—from rolling her eyes. “Well, it is very annoying how short they all seem to be. Especially the young ones.”
“Is that what you’re wearing?”
She blinked and then glanced down at her skinny white ankle-length pants, white shirt and narrow belt. “I hadn’t realized I was taking a winery tour or that they required a certain dress code.”
“We’ll be doing quite a bit of walking.” He looked pointedly at her black espadrilles.
“These are comfortable. I wear them shopping all the time.”
He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “The vineyard isn’t a shopping mall.”
“On second thought, why don’t we just skip the tour today? I’m sure you’re busy—”
“I’m always busy,” he said, then took a bite of cookie.
Trying to ignore the scent of peanut butter, she swallowed the saliva that had pooled in her mouth. “Which is why I can wait until Connie returns to have a closer look at the facilities.”
“I thought you wanted to learn about the winery.”
“I did. I do.” Yvonne just didn’t want to learn from him. She’d managed to steer clear of him for the better part of a week and didn’t want to ruin that streak now. Especially since she was still so confused over that sweet kiss he’d given her in the gift shop. Embarrassed that she’d let so much of the truth slip out.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” she said, even to her own ears sounding resigned. “Then I’d
appreciate the tour.”
“And I’d appreciate if you changed your shoes. I don’t want you to twist an ankle.”
“That’s considerate, but—”
“It’s not.” He leaned an elbow on the counter. “I don’t want any liability issues. Plus if you get hurt out in the vineyards, it’d be up to me to carry your ass back home.”
“Your chivalry knows no bounds.”
He straightened. “You want chivalrous? I’ll drive you to the cottage so you can change. How’s that?”
She couldn’t help it; she smiled. “My heart is all aflutter.”
His lips twitched. “Never let it be said us farm boys don’t know how to treat a lady.”
And her heart really did flutter. Just a little. But enough to remind her why she fell so hard for Aidan in the first place.
She dropped her gaze. The quiet in the room mocked her. Threatened to overwhelm her. So she reverted to what she knew—small talk. Polite conversation to fill the silence and make it less awkward, at least enough to stop her from feeling so discomfited.
She switched her bag to her other shoulder. Glanced at the hall where Diane had disappeared. “Do you think your mom’s feeling okay? She seemed…” Rude. More brusque than usual. “Out of sorts.”
The oven timer buzzed and Aidan shut it off, then used two potholders to take the cookies out. “I think there’s something going on between her and Al.”
“An argument?”
“More than likely. Things have seemed tense between them ever since they got back from Washington.”
“Well, shouldn’t you do something?”
Aidan looked at her as if she’d just asked him to bathe with his dog. “What would you suggest?”
“Talk to her. Ask her if everything’s all right.”
“Sorry. I’m not comfortable getting involved in my mother’s love life.” He bit into another cookie. “Actually, I’m not comfortable even saying ‘my mother’s love life.’”
“And here I thought you were the man who took care of everything around here,” Yvonne said lightly. “Who solved any and all problems.”
And even though she’d been teasing, his expression darkened. “That’s me. The original go-to guy.” He tossed the rest of his cookie into the garbage. “Except I don’t think either one of us should be giving advice when it comes to relationships, do you?”