One Secret Night

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “Busloads today,” Cathleen commented ruefully. “The poor kitchen staff was flat out with washing dishes by hand after the dishwasher broke down, and there’s still tomorrow’s usual Sunday crowd to come. I’ve called in a couple of casuals to help out.”

  “That’s good. So, are you still wanting to expand to include dinners with the café menu?” Ethan asked.

  “Of course,” Cade confirmed. “The figures are looking good for the expansion. Demand is already there. Besides, with Tamsyn’s wedding side of things becoming more popular, it makes sense to ride on her coattails. After attending a wedding here, there’ve been plenty of guests who have wanted to come back for an evening meal at another time.”

  Ethan nodded. It was surprising how, in such a short period of time, the family business had expanded from purely being a vineyard and winery to what was now far more diverse than what their grandparents, or even their parents, had ever imagined. Cade and Cathleen’s older brother, Raif, worked the viticulture side of The Masters with his father.

  “Did you hear that Tamsyn managed to secure IF Photography for the new catalogs?” Cathleen interrupted his thoughts. “Our chef is beside himself with glee and can’t wait for her to start.”

  “Tam mentioned something about a photographer,” Ethan said absently. Tamsyn hadn’t turned up yet tonight. He hoped she was okay.

  “Award-winning photographer. She’s from New Zealand, apparently, but travels worldwide,” Cathleen corrected excitedly. “We’re lucky to get her at all but to have her here for a month doing all aspects of The Masters is amazing. The new catalogs and web photos will be fantastic.”

  “Well, they do have great material to work with,” Ethan said with a wink. “Speaking of Tam, do you know where she is tonight? I thought she’d be here by—”

  A frisson of awareness traced a ghostly fingertip down the back of Ethan’s neck.

  “She’s just arrived,” Cathleen said, gesturing toward the entrance to the salon. “Oh, and look who’s with her! She must be the photographer. Let’s go and say hi.”

  Ethan stiffened and all his senses went on alert as Cade and Cathleen went over to greet the newcomers. IF Photography. IF. The initials trickled through his mind coming to one conclusion. Isobel Fyfe.

  Surely not.

  He turned and faced his sister and her guest and felt the blood drain from his head in shock as he recognized the angel-haired woman at his sister’s side.

  Five

  Isobel saw the exact moment Ethan registered her presence and noted as, in equal measures, shock and then anger flooded his features. Tamsyn was happily oblivious to Ethan’s rising fury as she introduced Isobel to Cade and Cathleen and then to the others in the room, working in a circle until they ended up in front of Ethan.

  Masters. So that was his surname. A shame she hadn’t paid more notice at the time, Isobel thought with an inward cringe. It would certainly have avoided this predicament. Clearly, he thought she knew, and was not happy that she’d kept their upcoming encounter a secret.

  Every line in Ethan’s body broadcast his displeasure at her appearance and his brows pulled together in a forbidding line.

  “Ethan, this is Isobel Fyfe, the photographer I was telling you about. Isobel, this is my big brother, Ethan. Don’t pay too much attention to him. His bark is always way worse than his bite.”

  Isobel felt her cheeks flame with color. She knew exactly what Ethan’s bite was like. In fact, she still had a few faint marks on her body here and there to prove it. She extended her hand and waited for Ethan to observe the proprieties.

  “Ms. Fyfe,” he said stiffly, finally extending his hands and briefly clasping hers.

  As brief as the contact was, she knew he felt the same flare of physical reaction she did. His eyes flamed ever so briefly before resuming their cold appraisal of her.

  “Please, call me Isobel,” she said with a smile that felt artificial on her lips. “I prefer not to stand on formality.”

  “And you must call him Ethan,” Tamsyn said. “We’re all on first-name terms here.”

  Isobel cast a look at Ethan, a little unnerved by the intensity of his glare. It made a small wave of anger rise inside her. He had no need to be so angry or distant. She hadn’t kept anything from him deliberately—she honestly hadn’t realized their paths would cross again. And was it so terrible that they had? Did he think she was the type to kiss and tell? It wasn’t like she was about to share intimate details of his sexual prowess with the people in the room with them. Nor was she likely to bring up the matters he shared with her about his parents. His bristling attitude was offensive and she didn’t hesitate to turn away from him when Tamsyn drew her attention to another part of the room.

  She could feel his eyes boring in her back as they walked away and it raised her ire another notch. How dare he treat her that way? Sure, they’d neither of them expected to see one another again but she’d never have anticipated him being so...so distant. Jerk.

  Unbidden, the shaded image of him over her body, slowly entering her, driving her to another glorious peak of satisfaction, speared through her mind. She drew in a sharp breath as her body gave a sudden pulse of remembered pleasure.

  “Are you okay?” Tamsyn asked. “I’m sorry about Ethan. He’s usually far more friendly. I think there’s something bothering him at the moment and, knowing him, we won’t hear about it until he’s sorted it all out himself.” She gave a little embarrassed laugh.

  “I’m fine, really,” Isobel hastened to reassure her. What had happened between her and Ethan was between the two of them only, and by the looks of things, Ethan was suffering from an overabundant dose of regret. Well, that was his problem, Isobel decided. She was here to do a job and that’s exactly what she was going to do.

  She focused her attention back to Tamsyn. “Tell me about your cousins—Raif, Cade and Cathleen. Am I right? Aren’t those the names of the Calvert children in Gone with the Wind?”

  Tamsyn laughed. “Yeah, Aunt Marianne is a big Margaret Mitchell fan.”

  All through the evening and even during dinner she could still feel Ethan watching her, but she did her best to ignore him. They were seated at opposite ends of the long and impeccably set dining table and it took next to no effort to keep her own gaze riveted to the other family members around her. She thought she had everyone pegged so far.

  Cynthia was very much in charge of the household. A beautiful woman, but with a hardness about her mouth and eyes that gave fair warning that she had very high expectations of those around her. She’d make an interesting photographic study. Edward and his wife appeared to be close, and generally friendlier than Cynthia. Isobel wondered how Ethan and Tamsyn’s father must have fit into all of this. She assumed he would have been the eldest of the family, much as Ethan was amongst his cousins.

  The Masters family made for interesting watching, that was for sure. All attractive in their own ways, and each with very clearly defined personalities and yet close-knit at the same time. It was a fascinating dynamic from the point of view of someone who had grown up as an only child and without extended family. A long-hidden part of her felt a deep twinge of envy at the easy way they all took one another’s presence in each other’s lives for granted, but she suppressed it almost as swiftly as it surfaced.

  Never look back.

  It was later, as the evening was drawing to an end and only a few remained at the table drinking coffee and lingering over their desserts, that she proffered her thanks for the evening and rose from the table. To her surprise, Ethan rose, too.

  “I’ll see Isobel to her accommodation,” he said firmly, his hand squeezing Tamsyn’s shoulder gently and keeping her in her seat as she made to rise with them. “You go on up and have an early night.”

  “If you’re sure?” Tamsyn said, looking up at her brother and then across at
Isobel.

  “I can make my own way,” Isobel said quickly. “The path is well lit and it’s a beautiful evening.”

  “I wouldn’t think of letting you walk back alone on your first night,” Ethan said smoothly, closing the distance between them and gesturing to the French doors that led outside to the massive wraparound decking.

  Once they were a short distance from the house Ethan drew to a halt.

  “What are you playing at?” he asked in a steely tone.

  “Playing?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me last night that you were coming here?”

  Isobel gave a humorless laugh. “Because I didn’t know this was your home. I didn’t catch your surname over the noise in the bar and I really didn’t think it mattered enough to ask.”

  “It matters. I want you to leave. Make up some excuse in the morning and just go. I’ll cover your costs.”

  “Wow, that’s good of you, especially since you probably have no idea of what I charge,” Isobel said with as much sarcasm as she could muster. “But I think you’re forgetting something. I am a professional and I’ve entered into a contract with The Masters to provide my services. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “I’m sure there’s an out clause in there somewhere. Look, I’ll even pay a premium on top of your fee.”

  “What makes you think I’m so desperate for money that I’d do what you’re asking?”

  “For goodness’ sake, you live out of a backpack and, by your own admission last night, you don’t own anything of real value. Of course you want the money.”

  Her pride stung at his arrogance. Was this the real Ethan Masters? How could he be so different from the man she’d spent last night with?

  “Look, I’m more than happy to stay out of your way but my contract is with Tamsyn and her marketing division, and I always honor my contracts.”

  He took a step closer and instantly her senses were flooded with the warmth emanating from his body, and the discreet lightly wooded scent he wore. She inhaled it without thinking and her body went on full alert—her nipples tightening, her breasts feeling full and heavy and aching for his touch. Heat gathered low down in her body. God, even at his condescending worst she was attracted to him. How pathetic was that?

  “But that’s part of the problem, isn’t it, Isobel? You won’t be able to stay out of my way—and more than that, you won’t be able to stay out of Tamsyn’s way.”

  She had been turned away from him slightly, refusing to meet his dark eyes as she stared at a point in the fragrant garden just beyond them, but her surprise at this turned her eyes back to lock with his.

  “What’s wrong with me interacting with Tamsyn? You’re a grown man—even if she finds out that we spent the night together, why would she care?”

  “I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about you sharing my confidences in you with Tamsyn.”

  Again she felt the stinging barbs of his words. Isobel drew in a steadying breath and faced him full on.

  “Ah, so you haven’t told your sister yet? Don’t you think you ought to? She deserves to know.”

  “That’s for me to decide. Look, I barely know you, I don’t know if I can trust you, or if I even want to.”

  “Well, that’s just a risk you’re going to have to take, isn’t it?”

  She turned and stepped away, determined that was the end of their conversation, but warm fingers caught at her hand and tugged her back toward him. Fiery tendrils of desire wound their way through her body.

  “I’m warning you, Isobel. I’m not a man to be tangled with. Do not disclose any of what I told you to my sister.”

  Isobel yanked her hand loose, absently rubbing it with her other hand in a vain attempt to wipe away the lingering sensation of his touch.

  “And I’m not the kind of woman who responds well to orders,” she hissed back at him. “Don’t worry—I already regret meeting you. Tangling with you again, as you so eloquently put it, is the last thing on my mind.”

  She stalked away from him, her entire body vibrating with anger. How dare he treat her this way? If it wasn’t such a matter of principle for her to never walk away from a job, she’d have told him exactly, and in explicit detail, where he could shove his money and his stupid family secrets. Isobel’s eyes burned. To her shock she realized she was crying. She never cried. Tears of anger, that’s all they were, nothing more. She swiped at the moisture on her cheeks and silently vowed not to let Ethan Masters get under her skin again for the duration of her stay here. In any way, shape or form.

  * * *

  Ethan watched Isobel until she reached the cottage she’d been assigned. He flinched as he heard the heavy wooden front door slam closed. It would seem he’d managed to get his point across—rather more forcefully than he’d intended. He shook his head. In his shock at seeing her here tonight, in his home, he’d allowed anger to cloud his decisions, to direct his behavior. He’d lacked his usual level of control. And it hadn’t just been because he worried about her spilling secrets. No, it was because in spite of his concerns, in spite of the very real damage she could do to his family, he still couldn’t stop himself from being damnably drawn to her. She did that to him.

  He turned and walked slowly toward the main house. His direct approach to Isobel had been clumsy, but he still had another option up his sleeve to get her to leave. Isobel had insisted her contract was with Tamsyn—that meant Tamsyn could withdraw it. He looked up to the second-story windows that he knew were his sister’s. The lights were still on. He let go a short sigh of relief. Good, he could deal with this tonight rather than wait until morning.

  Ethan let himself into the house and headed for the main stairs. In no time his knuckles rapped out a gentle tattoo on Tamsyn’s door.

  “Ethan?” she said from inside.

  “Yeah, got a minute?”

  “Sure, come in.”

  He let himself into the room and closed the door behind him. His sister was curled up on the small sofa in front of an empty fireplace. It wouldn’t be long before the small cavern would be glowing with the cheerful light of a fire as autumn slowly gave way to winter, but today its emptiness seemed sad and lonely.

  “Did you see Isobel to the cottage okay?” Tamsyn asked, putting down the book she’d been reading onto a side table.

  “I did, and she’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Really?” An expression of interest flickered across his sister’s features. “What do you want to know?”

  Ethan rested one hand on the polished wooden mantel and chose his next words carefully.

  “How much do you know about Isobel Fyfe?”

  “What I’ve heard by referral mostly, and from her website. Why? Are you worried about something? Don’t you think she’s capable of doing the job?”

  “I don’t think she’s right for the job, to be honest. Can we break the contract, Tam?”

  Tamsyn sat upright and looked at him in surprise. “Break the contract? Why?”

  “I’d rather we use someone else,” he said bluntly.

  “Seriously, Ethan, without a very good reason I’m not going to break the contract with Isobel. She came very highly recommended and her portfolio is extensive. We were lucky to get her as much of her work is done overseas, and she’s only in Australia for a month. What have you got against her?”

  “I’d prefer not to say.”

  This was more difficult than he’d thought. Normally, Tamsyn was only too happy to acquiesce to his suggestions but in this instance, of all instances, she’d decided to be stubborn.

  “Well, like I said before, unless you can give me a good reason, she’s staying.”

  What reason could he give his sister? That, because of his carelessness, Isobel held a secret that could rock the foundations of Tamsyn�
��s world? That she held the key to unlocking a potential world of hurt and unanswerable questions?

  Tamsyn’s eyes, so like his own, bored into him as he remained silent. He saw the exact second an idea occurred to her.

  “You’re attracted to her, aren’t you?” Tamsyn could be equally as blunt as him.

  “That’s not the point,” he said, unable to straight out lie to her and deny her observation.

  Tamsyn smiled. “What are you afraid of, Ethan? Following your heart?”

  “There’s no danger of my heart being involved,” he said firmly. “Besides, you know I plan to marry Shanal one day.”

  Tamsyn snorted in an unladylike fashion. “Look, I love Shanal, she’s a great friend but there’s no spark between you. Why are you afraid of exploring something with someone who doesn’t come in a paint-by-numbers relationship?”

  Paint by numbers? Was that what she thought of his friendship with Shanal? Just because he considered a relationship between them rationally, evaluating the different traits and compatibilities they’d bring to a marriage rather than getting swept away in meaningless passion? What was wrong with that?

  And as to exploring “something” with Isobel, he’d already been there. Talk about getting swept away... His fists clenched involuntarily as his body was flooded with remembrance of what they’d been doing with one another only twenty-four hours ago. He tamped the wayward sensation down by sheer force of will.

  “There’s no shame in leading with your head rather than your heart, Tam.”

  “That’s not my point,” Tamsyn said, getting up from the sofa and coming to stand in front of him. “You’re my brother and I love you, Ethan. But sometimes you infuriate me, especially when you are hell-bent on controlling everything around you. Some things are not meant to be controlled.”

  “Look, I didn’t come in here for a discussion about my love life. I came to talk about Isobel Fyfe’s unsuitability.”

  To his surprise, Tamsyn laughed out loud.

  “Really, Ethan? Is this a case of protesting just a bit too much? I saw the way you looked at her tonight.”