by Susan Hughes
“Good evening, Jason,” she said, clutching her purse with both hands.
“Good evening, Abby. Please come in.”
“This place is impressive.” She gazed around the spacious foyer as she stepped inside. “I’ve only really seen the courtyard.”
“I’d be happy to show you around the production area, but why don’t we sample a few wines first?”
“I can’t wait.”
“There’s a tasting bar in the visitor centre, but I think we’ll be more comfortable in the private lounge upstairs.”
Abby nodded her agreement. “Lead the way.”
She followed close behind him as he climbed the staircase back to the upper floor and then led her into the lounge. After she settled onto one of the bar stools, crossing her long legs and folding her hands in her lap, he saw a nervous twitch in her lips when she smiled up at him.
Jason stepped behind the bar, breathing in the sweet fragrance of her perfume as he passed her. “I took the liberty of bringing out some of our signature wines for you to try.”
“I’m not much of a drinker, but I’m game.” Her cheeks glowed pink in anticipation. The inn had been dimly lit, but under the bright lamps in the lounge he could see how pretty her eyes were behind her dark-framed glasses. Fringed with dark lashes, the irises were a captivating amber hue that shimmered in the light.
“I thought we’d try the Riesling first.” Turning to retrieve the bottle from the cooler, he opened it and filled both wine glasses halfway. “You’ll find it’s crisp and refreshing, with fruity overtones.”
Picking up his glass, he swirled the golden liquid and then brought it to his nose to inhale the delicate floral aroma. Watching him, Abby did the same, waiting for him to finally sip the wine before trying it herself.
“Very nice.” She took another, longer taste. “The exceptional reputation of your wines is well deserved. We should serve them at The Roses.”
“I’d be honoured.”
“I can’t help but be impressed by how your father built this place from the ground up,” Abby remarked.
“It was a labour of love,” Jason told her, glad for the opportunity to talk about his father’s passion. “He spent hours out in the vineyard, tending his grapes. If I wanted to spend time with him, I’d have to go out there and help him. It’s a good thing I did. I managed to learn enough about the business to take over when he passed away.”
“Did he die suddenly?” she inquired.
“He had cancer, but it was remarkably quick. He lived only a few months after the diagnosis.” Though he spoke of it impassively, thinking of it now made Jason’s chest tighten uncomfortably.
She gazed down at her glass, a frown creasing her brow. “I’m so sorry about the way Colin treated your father. His insensitivity doesn’t surprise me, but what he did borders on cruelty. Colin didn’t need that inn. He owned dozens of pieces of property.”
“Which you now own,” Jason reminded her.
“Yes.” Her gaze rose sharply to meet his, and at once he questioned his tone. Knowing the care she’d put into renovating The Roses, it was indelicate to imply she should not miss that one property among the rest.
“What’s puzzling is that they used to be friends, years ago,” he said. “I don’t suppose you remember me at your wedding.”
Abby looked surprised. “No. But it was a huge affair. I didn’t lay eyes on half the guests.”
“Two years ago when I met you, I didn’t recognize you as the bride from that wedding. But you wouldn’t have recognized me, either.” Jason remembered being bored beyond tears at the ceremony and reception that followed. “I was a gawky twelve-year-old then.”
In the middle of swallowing the last of her wine, Abby choked, nearly spitting it onto the floor.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She set her glass on the bar-top as she caught her breath. “Twelve? God, I feel ancient.”
“You certainly don’t look it,” Jason told her truthfully.
“Thank you.” A soft smile touched her lips; it was one of those enchanting, unaffected smiles that had mesmerized him at that party two years ago, and its effect on him had not lessened in the least.
“I think you’ll like this one as well.” He retrieved the second bottle of white from the cooler. “It’s a Sauvignon blanc. It’s more herbal, and somewhat zestier than the Riesling.”
Abby held up her glass and he poured some wine into it before filling his own glass.
“So what made you decide to restore the inn?” he asked her, after they had both tasted the wine. “It must have cost you a fortune.”
“Colin left me a comfortable amount of money. The Roses was the only one of his properties that interested me at all. I couldn’t bear to see it torn down.”
“You’ve done a wonderful job with it.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Abby said. He could see she was more relaxed now, her posture less rigid, her delicate hand absently caressing the bowl of her glass.
“Do you plan on running the place yourself?” he wondered.
She shook her head. “I’ve hired a couple of managers to take care of the pub and the guest accommodations. I enjoyed fixing the place up but I’m a writer at heart. I need to get back to that.”
“To do otherwise would be a grave disappointment to your fans, I’m sure.”
Abby took another long swallow of wine, her amber eyes searching his over the rim of her glass. She then set her glass down, and as she considered her next words, she drew her lower lip briefly between her teeth and then released it—a gesture that was reflexive but unwittingly sexy. “You mentioned that your wedding was canceled. Do you mind if I ask what happened?”
Caught off guard by her question, Jason didn’t reply at first.
“Sorry, it’s none of my business,” she added quickly, flustered. “I’m such a lightweight with alcohol, even a few sips makes me say whatever pops into my head before I have a chance to think better of it.”
“It’s all right.” He released a breath before continuing. “Brianna was unfaithful. I found out a few weeks before the wedding was to take place.”
“I’m so sorry.” Abby’s eyes softened, easing the tension brought on by memories of his former fiancée’s betrayal. “That must have been so difficult.”
Jason smiled tightly. “Better to go through it before the wedding than years later.”
“I wish I’d had the foresight to know what twenty years with Colin was going to be like.” Her tone took on a sour note. “Then I may have reconsidered.”
“You weren’t happy?” Jason rested his elbow on the bar, leaning closer in genuine interest. It didn’t surprise him that Colin Bennett would make a lousy husband; the man seemed to thrive on the misery of others.
One of Abby’s slender shoulders lifted. “At first, I suppose we were. But not for long. I was only twenty-one when we got married. He was thirty-five and he swept me off my feet. But my motives for marrying him were not the purest.” She paused a moment, as though searching for the right words. “You see, my parents had pressured me to go to law school, and I hated it. I only wanted to write. So I dropped out of school and eloped with Colin, both to defy them and because he was wealthy and willing to support me while I wrote my first novel.” She waved a dismissive hand, offering a self-conscious smile. “Why am I telling you all this? I’m sure you’re not interested.”
“On the contrary, I find you very interesting, Abby,” he said—having meant to say he found her story interesting, although it was the truth that he spoke. In fact he found both the woman and her account of her marriage so intriguing that he’d almost forgotten his purpose in inviting her here. For the moment he didn’t much care.
“That’s the wine talking.” she said, a flattering dark-pink hue blooming in her cheeks.
“My wines are always expressive, but they never do my talking for me.”
Her gaze flickered away coyly. “Well, I think they are loosening m
y tongue.”
“You’re charming, with or without a little wine in your system,” Jason said, lifting an eyebrow.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you are trying to charm me.”
“Is it working?” he asked with a half-smile, enjoying the evocative banter that had somehow evolved from the dour talk of their failed relationships.
“I’ll let you know.” Abby flushed deeper, glancing at him demurely from under her lashes, her playfully coquettish side on display. He could see she was already feeling the effects of the alcohol, her inhibitions easing, and it aroused a dangerous heat in his belly. He frowned, despite his immense enjoyment of their mutual teasing. He’d been determined not to use the spark of attraction between them to his advantage in winning the inn back from her.
Besides, since his fractured engagement a year and a half ago, he wasn’t interested in getting involved with anyone. And Abby Wells was the sort of woman he could see himself wanting to spend a lot of time with.
* * *
Abby accepted a half-glass of dark, rich Cabernet Franc, though her head was already beginning to reel from consuming the two previous half-glasses of wine in quick succession. She was enjoying herself too much to want to stop, delighting in both the wine and the company much more than she’d expected to.
“So you say Colin supported your writing career, and you were in love when you married,” Jason asked, steering the conversation back to the gloomy topic of her marriage. “What went wrong, if I may be so bold as to ask?”
Abby swallowed some wine before replying, reminding herself that she should be savouring the spicy overtones. “I suppose I didn’t know him all that well when we married. We only dated a few months. When we were dating he showered me with attention, but once the chase was over I suppose the fun was gone, and he didn’t have much time to spare for me. He was really quite arrogant and self-centred. Well, I suppose you know that. Eventually we were living mainly separate lives.”
“But you never left?” Jason eyed her with interest. “Many couples stay together for the sake of the children, and that I can understand on a certain level. But you didn’t have any children, did you?”
Abby didn’t answer at first. She glanced away, feeling some of the coziness of their conversation drain away as her stomach dipped uncomfortably.
“No, we didn’t,” she replied at last. When she looked back at Jason, leaning his elbow casually on the bar-top, she found his dark gaze fixed on hers. “I’m not really sure why I stayed so long. At first I suppose I was focused on establishing my writing career and told myself we could work on the marriage later. But things never got better. Over time I suppose I lost the nerve to leave.”
She took a last swallow of her Cabernet. Though the wine had chased away some of her discretion, she stopped herself from spilling the rest of her story.
She didn’t tell him that throughout her thirties she’d tried to conceive a child, but never succeeded. After running extensive tests, her doctor had assured her there was nothing wrong with her, and suggested Colin be tested as well. But Colin refused, insisting he could not be to blame. Forced to accept that, Abby’s pleas to adopt were met by hostility. By the time she reached her late thirties she gave up, both on motherhood and on finding happiness in marriage. Though she could have left Colin, and probably should have, it seemed too late to start over, and she resigned herself to remaining married but emotionally alone.
When Colin’s fatal heart attack left her suddenly single, Abby grieved for him in her own way, his absence bringing an abrupt end to the life she’d grown accustomed to. Although free to meet someone else, she shied away from the idea. After all, Colin’s assertion over the years that she was an unsatisfactory lover had left her petrified of disastrous results if she did find herself in another man’s bed. Besides, having lived so long in a passionless marriage, she hardly knew where to begin with a new relationship.
No, these were not things she wished to discuss with Jason Brinleigh, now or ever.
“Was he faithful to you?” Jason asked after a pause, his forthright question surprising Abby. But she supposed, having asked him about his broken engagement, she owed him an honest response.
“I suspected he wasn’t, but I could never prove anything.” To a certain extent she had blamed his need to find fulfillment outside of the marriage on her inability to satisfy him. Thinking of it now made her shudder with dejection, and she tried gamely to push those feelings aside.
“I have to wonder whether the notion of happily-ever-after belongs in fairy tales and not in our expectations of marriage,” Jason remarked.
Though taken aback by the bleakness of the sentiment, Abby could hardly disagree with it. Two years ago when she met Jason, she’d encountered a vibrant young man already running a successful winery and about to be married, and she had envied him. That promise in her life, she’d thought, had been squandered, too late to be recaptured. Though she’d found professional fulfillment as a novelist, she would never have the children she craved or enjoy a true, loving bond with her husband. To learn now that Jason’s life was tinged with its own pain made her see him differently, and curious to know more about him.
Straightening on her stool, Abby forced a grin to her face. “Quite right. Relationships are more trouble than they’re worth, so I say we should enjoy being free and single and not tied to anyone.”
The edges of his soft mouth curved upward. “Agreed. A toast?”
“Indeed.”
“For this, the Pinot noir. Delicate, soft, and utterly delightful. Not unlike my company this evening.” As he filled their glasses with the fourth wine selection, Jason’s eyes swept briefly over Abby, his lips quirking into a roguish smile that made her heart trip as it picked up its pace.
Raising her glass, she touched it to his with a soft clink. “To the single life.”
“May it serve us well.” The sympathy in Jason’s eyes buoyed Abby’s spirits; she suspected he understood the awful muddle of emotions she’d endured.
As he drank, his dark gaze settled on hers, lingering and intent, and sudden heat suffused her cheeks. She felt the same warm stirring of awareness that she had the night they met—only then they’d been in a room full of people, and she’d enjoyed the illicitness of their attraction while knowing there was no real danger of succumbing to temptation. Now they were alone, and both single.
Suddenly restless, Abby slid off her bar stool and wandered toward a set of French doors leading to a balcony. Her legs wobbled slightly as the room tilted around her, and she realized a bit of fresh air might do her good.
She turned to Jason, who followed a few paces behind her. “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
Opening one of the doors, she stepped out onto the balcony, the muggy night air enveloping her. Below, just beyond the manicured courtyard, the vineyard sprawled outward, row upon row of neatly trellised grapevines set aglow in the golden evening light. She could see the meticulous care that went into tending the plants, their perfect shape duplicated one to the next along each pristine row.
“The wine you’re drinking now came from the grapes grown over here.” Stepping beside her, Jason spread his hand to indicate the vines to the right.
“Could we go down there?” Abby asked on impulse. “I could use a walk, and it’s so pretty at twilight.”
Settling his hands in his pockets, Jason smiled softly. “Of course. Follow me.”
They left the building by the back entrance, passing the courtyard where Abby’s birthday party had been held. The flagstone terrace was empty and quiet now, but that night it had accommodated dozens of guests, along with a string quartet, a bar, and tables filled with delectable finger food.
“This is where we met,” she reminded Jason as they stepped off the terrace, heading down a path that wound between the winery and the vineyard. “In all the excitement I didn’t even notice the vineyard so close by.”
“I remember it well. You looked stun
ning that night.” Glancing at her, he offered an evocative smile, his brows inching upward. “As you do now.”
Abby smiled up at him, breathing deeply as the warm breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders. The effect of the wine was beginning to wear off, but the giddy thrill of being appreciated by this gorgeous man took its place. She’d had her doubts about coming here, but she was glad she’d ignored them; she couldn’t think of any other place she’d rather be this evening, or anyone she’d rather spend it with.
“Jason, you’re doing wonders for my ego tonight.” Sliding her hand under his arm, she hooked it around his elbow as they walked; her nerves jumped with delight when his larger, warm hand curled over hers. “A little more flattery and you can have my inn and my first-born child along with it.”
Feeling him stiffen beside her, Abby instantly wished she could take back her words. She’d almost forgotten the reason for their re-acquaintance, and perhaps he had, too.
Never mind the painful fact that she never would have a child, first-born or otherwise.
“Thank you for inviting me here,” she added quickly, hoping her new sentiment would replace the previous one in his mind. “This is lovely. I only wish it wasn’t so muggy.”
Jason turned to her, lifting one brow. “I have an idea. My house is just down the road. I wouldn’t normally suggest something like this, but it’s such a beautiful night. Why don’t we walk down and take a dip in my pool?”
From under her lashes she glanced up at him, a soft smile curving her lips, and—following a habit she seemed to have adopted since Jason Brinleigh walked into The Roses that afternoon—accepted his offer purely on impulse. “Sounds like fun. Lead the way.”
Chapter Three
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.” This little hitch in the plan struck Abby for the first time as she stared down at the glassy surface of the water. The kidney-shaped pool was a modest size, tucked into an alcove behind Jason’s rather large ranch-style house. Lights set into the pool walls gave its cobalt depths an inviting glow.