“For a while.”
“But the girls are doing everything together now. They’ve become inseparable.”
“Instead of you and Abby living on your own, they could spend a week with you and then a week with me.”
Jillian shook her head. “I don’t know, Chase.”
Her reticence suddenly made him angry, and he wondered what she was hoping for. “I’m not going to go away. I’m not going to say to you ‘You can take the girls to Florida and I’ll visit a couple of times a year.’ That’s not going to happen, Jillian. I want them with me as much as you want them with you.”
What he saw in her face told him she had hoped for exactly that scenario.
“I should hire a lawyer,” she said almost defiantly.
“Both of us will have to hire lawyers. But the bottom line is—if we don’t want a judge making decisions for us, we’d better come up with something that works.”
After Buff chased a robin into the sky, he sniffled the earth, then returned to Jillian. This time when he yipped and jumped up and down, she gathered him into her arms and held him close.
Chase knew both girls needed a mother, and he wouldn’t think of separating them from Jillian. But he intended to be a father, too. She wasn’t going to take that away from him. Besides that, the idea of his mother selling Willow Creek didn’t sit well with him anymore.
While ruffling Buff’s fur, Jillian set him on the ground beside a trellis post. “What should I tell Sherry and her friend?” Jillian asked, ending a discussion that seemed to have no place to go.
His objective when he’d returned to Willow Creek was to put the vineyard on the map. A story in the paper could help him do that. “Give her the go-ahead. It will be good PR, especially if she’s not only going to do background but cover the wedding, too.”
“I can tell you what will happen.”
“What?”
“More couples will call you about having their weddings here. Is that why you’re doing it? So I’ll have a reason to stay?”
“Is that so distasteful for you to consider? I don’t want the vineyard to become a three-ring circus. But if you could start your business here in Pennsylvania with a few weddings, it could be one solution to our problem.”
She frowned. “It’s not easy to start over. I did that when I moved to Florida. Building a business takes time.”
“If you’re worried about money, don’t be. I’ll cover any expenses—”
“No, you won’t, Chase. I don’t take handouts. I’m not going to depend on you…Not for anything.”
“Don’t draw that line in the sand yet,” he warned her. She was so damn independent and he’d never had to deal with that with Fran. Jillian was so damn young, too, and maybe that was part of it. She simply didn’t see the bigger picture and somehow he had to show her exactly what it was.
“I’d better get back to the house. I told your mother I’d help her with supper.”
“She’s letting you?” he asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit.
“I think she’s going to agree to let me peel the potatoes.”
As she turned, he clasped her shoulder. “I know you miss Florida, Jillian. I know it’s not easy sharing a kitchen with another woman who wants to own it. The carriage house could be a solution.”
“I’m looking for the best solution, Chase.”
With that resolution laid before him, she walked off.
He didn’t think there was a better solution. They simply had to find one they could both live with.
That evening, Jillian went to the kitchen and opened the door to the basement. She’d never been to the wine cellar. She could wait until Chase came upstairs again, but Eleanor had told her he might be in the cellar awhile.
The girls were occupied coloring and Eleanor was knitting as Jillian went down the stairs. The light was on. She descended the steps into a large open room with a concrete floor.
There were quite a few boxes stacked to the right of the stairway labeled in Chase’s handwriting. One said Kitchen, another, Fran’s Plates. It looked as if Chase had never unpacked.
Crossing the room, she faced a wall with a heavy wooden door. It had a small square window near the top and she could see light inside. The door was indeed heavy as she unlatched it and pulled it open. It creaked and groaned as if it was a century old, and she realized it might be.
As she stepped onto the ground floor of the basement room, Chase ordered, “Close the door.”
He was holding a clipboard, and a crate sat at his feet. Apparently he was pulling bottles of wine from the shelves.
“The temperature stays constant with the door closed,” he explained.
“It’s about the same temperature as in the winery.”
“Yes, it is. But the winery is mechanically arranged. This is natural.”
She eyed the racks of bottles. “What are you doing?”
“Selecting a few bottles from our private storehouse for a friend of mine. He’s having a dinner Saturday night and asked me to come. Would you like to go with me?”
The invitation startled her for a moment. “How formal is it? I didn’t bring anything dressy.”
“Actually, it’s casual. I’ll be wearing a sweater and jeans. You can do the same.”
Meeting Chase’s friends for the first time, she’d want to wear something a little nicer than jeans. “What about the girls? I don’t want your mother to think we’re taking advantage of her.”
“You’ll have to find another excuse if you don’t want to go. You know my mother loves to be with them. It’s as if she soaks up every smile and every giggle, saving it for later.”
“Don’t you do that, too?” Jillian asked before she thought better of it. “Just in case…”
Awkward silence filled the chilly room. “I suppose I do,” he acknowledged, a nerve working in his jaw. He saw the papers in her hand. “Did you need something?”
Of course she hadn’t come down here just to see him…just to be with him. Of course she hadn’t.
The aura Chase exuded always intrigued her. He was confident, sometimes with a hint of arrogance. He was sexy, no doubt about that. That brown hair falling over his brow made her want to push it back. And beyond all that, he was caring. He’d cared deeply about his wife and still loved her. He cared fiercely for Abby and Marianne. But Jillian was afraid of him in a way, and that was foolish. She had nothing to fear.
She had everything to fear.
She could fight him tooth and nail for Abby or for Marianne, but she had the feeling he had the power and influence she didn’t have. Maybe she should go with him to see his friends so she could learn more about him, see him in action with them. Eric had managed to hide his propensity for flirting until after they were married. He’d pretended to care deeply but obviously hadn’t. He’d known the words to say that would convince her to reconcile with him, but no sense of commitment had gone with them. The more she was with Chase, the more she saw him interact with others, the more she could decide exactly what his true character was. She would not be fooled a second time.
“I’ll go with you Saturday night. It sounds like fun.”
He didn’t react and she wondered if he cared what she did when it didn’t involve the girls.
When she moved closer to him, she held out the paper in her hand. “I have the estimate for Sherry and Tom’s wedding. She wanted me to call her today, and I thought you’d like to see the figures first.”
“In case we do this more than once?” he asked, pushing her to stay again.
“Let up, Chase,” she said softly. “Give me some space.”
He looked almost amused when he shook his head and admitted, “When I see the solution to a problem, I just want to make it happen.”
“Your solution and mine might be different,” she reminded him.
The amusement vanished, replaced by a piercing regard that she imagined was supposed to intimidate her. It didn’t. She’d learned how to stand up fo
r herself and her daughter, and she’d do that no matter what.
Finally, he took the paper from her hand and examined it closely. “This looks reasonable to me. You are going to take a commission out of this, aren’t you?”
“That’s figured in. Are you sure you don’t want to charge Sherry and Tom more for using the vineyard?”
“No. Especially with the print publicity we’ll be getting, this is fine. You’re a sharp businesswoman, Jillian, I can tell that from what you’ve done here.”
Did he really believe that or was he saying it to flatter her?
Somehow he seemed to read her mind because he took a step closer and put his hand on her shoulder. “I mean it. I can see why you’re successful at what you do.”
“Kara is a big part of that,” she said honestly. “In D.C. it was difficult making a name for myself. With Kara already established in Daytona, it was easy making our business a success.”
“We don’t have a multitude of event planners in this area. I think you’d be able to make a name for yourself quickly. In fact, the right word in the right circles would guarantee it. My mother could go a long way with helping you with that.”
“Your mother?”
“I know she doesn’t seem particularly social, but she meets with her friends a few times a month. They’re influential friends and word gets out. If that’s what you want, I’m sure she could help.”
If that’s what she wanted. At this point, all she knew about what she wanted was that she didn’t want to be separated from Marianne or Abby.
There was something clandestinely intimate about being in the wine cellar with Chase. It didn’t seem like a cellar at all, not in the usual sense. The walls were some kind of gray stone with mortar in between. The ambience of the place told her it had been here for a century, maybe more. The wrought-iron light fixtures looked rustically old but they held chandelier bulbs and without turning her full attention on them, they gave the illusion of candles flickering. There was an aroma—aged bottles, old cork, Chase’s aftershave.
The way he was looking at her made her tremble inside and when he took a step closer, she wanted to forget about everything going on in their lives. She wanted to be in the moment and just let whatever happened happen. All throughout her life she’d thought about her tomorrows, planned for them, tried to be prepared for whatever would come. She’d learned to do that because she and her mom had lived on a shoestring, and they could never depend on her father.
She didn’t want to depend on Chase now, either. She just wanted to kiss him.
When he eased closer, she found herself mesmerized by the moment…mesmerized by him.
“It would be better for us and the girls if we were friends and not enemies.” His voice was low and intimately husky.
“Friends?” she asked, wondering what he meant by the word.
“There are all kinds of friends, Jillian. Maybe we can explore the idea.”
Explore? The idea of exploration with Chase seemed monumental…exciting…bone-melting.
When his hand slipped under her hair, she looked up at him, the turmoil of everything they’d been through roiling inside of her.
“There’s something hot between us,” he said as he bent his head. “Maybe we both need to forget about everything else but that. This might be reckless,” he murmured, right before his lips touched hers, “but I’m feeling reckless right now.”
The last time she was reckless, she’d let Eric charm her. The last time she was reckless…
Chase’s kiss wasn’t hot, it was blazing. It burned away everything but the two of them and enclosed them in a world away. When his other arm went around her, she let the estimate sheet float to the floor. His hold was possessive as if he were claiming her somehow. His kiss became demanding as if now were the only moment they had and it was all that mattered. She found herself swept away by Chase…swept into his passion. Desire had been foreign to her for so long. She hadn’t even allowed herself to think about attraction to anyone.
But keeping a tight rein on her restraint and control wasn’t an option when it came to Chase. He surrounded her as his tongue filled her mouth, taunted expertly, thrust inside seductively. They seemed to fit together perfectly, and she felt the adventure of exploration.
Engrossed in the kiss, Chase’s taste, the scent of male and aftershave and desire, she hardly noticed when he shifted, when his hand went to her waist, when his long deft fingers eased under her sweater. As she felt the scalding touch of his skin against hers, her breath hitched and her soft throaty moan sounded deep inside of her. She knew she should stop him, stop this, stop everything. They weren’t friends, not with the tangled knot of complications between them. But she felt powerless to end something so exquisite…to end sensations she’d never felt before, and passion that curled into her deepest secret womanly place. For all his expertise, Eric’s satisfaction had always come first. Now she longed to find out what kind of lover Chase would be.
As his tongue retreated for a few moments and he nipped her upper lip, his hand moved higher and she knew his target. He moved slowly, and the anticipation thrilled her almost as much as the thought of what he wanted to do.
“I want to touch you, Jillian. It’s been a long time since I touched a woman like this.”
“It’s been a long time for me, too,” she murmured.
Their words to each other had been soft, but suddenly she heard them again, very loud, as if they were echoing in the cavern.
It’s been a long time since I touched a woman like this.
It’s been a long time for me, too.
They weren’t in the wine cellar alone. Ghosts from their pasts dogged them. She’d thought living in the moment would be a solution, would be a distraction, would be a pleasure. Yet now she knew it couldn’t be. She never engaged in sex lightly, not without a relationship. There had been one man before Eric—her first love, who had moved on after he’d gone to college. That had been the total extent of her experience.
And Chase? He still loved his wife. That was obvious. What was she doing? What did she expect to come of this except trouble?
When she leaned away, Chase moved his hand from under her sweater, his gaze on hers.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice husky.
She knew that he already knew. “This isn’t the way to become friends. We’ll mess everything up.”
“It’s not in a mess now?” he asked wryly.
“You know what I mean. I don’t even trust you, and—”
“Why don’t you trust me?” he interrupted.
She shook her head.
“How can we be friends when you won’t tell me anything about yourself?”
Hearing his frustration, she answered quickly, “You already know a lot about me.”
“I know a few facts. I know you’re a good mother.”
“I’m confused, Chase, aren’t you? I have so many decisions to make and I don’t want to make them because you—”
“I what?” he asked warily.
“Because you manipulated me into making them.”
Now he took a step back and his tone was defensive. “I don’t use manipulation.”
“You want me to move my life here. You want to get your own way. Why wouldn’t you use this…attraction between us to do that?”
“Because I’m not that kind of man,” he said angrily.
She didn’t know if he was or he wasn’t. That was the whole crux of the problem. Until she found out, she’d better watch her step. Caution had served her well since her move to Florida. She wasn’t going to throw it to the wind now.
“We don’t know each other, Chase, but we’re going to be tied to each other until the girls are grown. Let’s keep this simple.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Take off the rose-colored glasses, Jillian. You won’t find ‘simple’ between us.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
He was silent for a long time. Finally he stooped, picked up t
he estimate sheet and held it out to her. “What about Saturday night?”
“Do you still want me to go?”
“I want you to go,” he answered.
Taking the paper from him, she said, “I’ll meet your friends.”
Before she left, she had to be sure of something. “Are you certain you want to have this wedding here?”
He didn’t hesitate. “I’m certain. Once I make up my mind, I don’t change it.”
She didn’t know if his words were meant to be reassuring or if they were meant to warn her. Deciding the wine cellar now seemed dangerous instead of intimate, she crossed to the heavy door and opened it. When she pushed the portal shut behind her, she felt relief…and disappointment.
Maybe on Saturday night she could get a better handle on Chase. Maybe after Saturday night, she could decide whether a move to Pennsylvania would be in her and Abby’s and Marianne’s best interest.
Chapter Eight
The dinner party was in full swing when Chase and Jillian arrived at the Paxtons’ house. After Alissa Paxton took their coats she whispered to Jillian, “Everyone calls me Allie.”
Chase saw Jillian’s first real smile of the evening. She looked beautiful tonight. She was wearing black slacks, a soft white sweater and a black crocheted shawl casually draped over one shoulder and tied on the other. She was so classy and it didn’t take him long to notice that she didn’t need his presence by her side to make her feel comfortable. Obviously a mingler, she was soon involved in more than one conversation with the two other couples the Paxtons had invited, the Forsythes and the Stantons.
Ever since their encounter in the wine cellar, she’d kept to herself and so had he. He was still reeling from the fact that he’d let baser desires overtake him. All she had to do was walk into a room and he didn’t know left side of his brain from his right. He didn’t understand why his libido was stronger than his intelligence when it never had been before.
And then there was the guilt that his heart still belonged somewhere else even though his body desired Jillian.
Her belief that he was trying to manipulate her, the truth that she didn’t trust him, disconcerted him more than he wanted to admit. Yet he understood both. If her husband had been unfaithful, if she’d been lied to, it would be difficult for her to trust again.
Their Child? Page 28