“Looked at her? What do you mean?” he demanded, more than a little bit thrown by her questions.
“It’s hard to describe. Half the time you looked as if you wanted to devour her. Seriously. You barely took your eyes off her all night and she was working equally as hard not to watch you. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two had met before or had some history together.”
Ethan fought to keep his features composed. Sometimes his sister was too observant and she knew him too well.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Tamsyn pressed. “You’ve met her before. When?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he hedged. “If you’re not prepared to cancel her contract then could you at least make sure you keep her out of my way as much as possible for the time she’s here? For all our sakes.” It wouldn’t do much good if he couldn’t keep her away from Tamsyn, too, but at least if Isobel wasn’t around him, he might be able to think clearly and come up with a better plan.
He walked from Tamsyn’s room, determined not to utter another word on the subject. But before he’d left, he’d seen the shrewdly assessing look in Tamsyn’s eyes—and the light of mischief there. He groaned out loud when he got to his suite. He should have left well enough alone and not raised the subject with his sister. Now she’d be like a dog with a bone over it.
Two hours later he still couldn’t sleep. Dressed only in pajama bottoms, he padded across the lushly carpeted floor to his windows and stared out in the darkness across to the cottage where Isobel was. As he stood there, a light flicked on inside the cottage. So, she couldn’t sleep, either. He absently rubbed his belly, his hand stilling as he remembered her touch—her hand, her mouth, her tongue—at the very same spot last night.
Desire rolled through him and he closed his eyes briefly, seeing in his mind’s eye the shimmer of her fair skin in the half light of the room, feeling its smooth softness beneath him. Feeling her.
His eyes flew open. The light at the cottage was still on. Damn. Ethan reached for the pull cord and yanked his drapes closed, but even knowing he’d blocked her from view, he couldn’t help thinking that it looked like it was going to be a long night for them both.
Six
Isobel woke the next morning still furious. As if it wasn’t enough that Ethan Masters had consumed her waking thoughts with his arrogance, his skillful lovemaking from the night before had infiltrated her sleep. As a result, she’d woken an aching, frustrated wreck, torn between the urge to track him down and slap him...or track him down and pounce on him. Not her best look, that was for sure, she decided as she surveyed herself in the bathroom mirror.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to face anyone yet this morning. She’d asked for the time to herself, to familiarize herself with the property and the layout. To ease into the feel of the place so she could reflect its special character in the photos she was to create for their new marketing plan. She turned away from the mirror and started the shower running. During her usual jobs, showers were a rare luxury—and the one in this cabin was uncommonly nice. If only she could enjoy it without her head full of distractions. A quick wash and rinse of her hair and she was done and back out again.
Five minutes later, Isobel was dressed and busily surveying the contents of the refrigerator in the very compact yet well-appointed kitchen. They really thought of everything here, which gave her an idea. She grabbed one of her cameras and took a few quick shots of the contents of the fridge. Then, grabbing a banana, she went outside.
The land here was beautiful, especially in the early-morning light. Row upon row of grapevines and framework stretched across the land and up the hillside almost as far as she could see. And there, up on the ridge of one hill, stood a massive ruin. Her curiosity piqued, she pulled the door of the cottage closed behind her and struck out in that direction.
She’d raised a light sweat by the time she crested the hill. Ahead of her rose the remains of what must have once been a magnificent residence. Isobel spun in a slow circle. Clearly, from here, the house had overlooked the land in all directions, almost like a castle set atop a mountain. There was even a tower standing about four stories tall.
She walked closer, eyeing the red brick walls that loomed above her, the gaping holes where windows were once the eyes upon the valley below. A strange sadness settled over her. So much destruction, so much loss. Here and there plants had taken a hold in the brickwork, finding purchase in the most unlikely of places. Nature had a way of doing that, she reminded herself. It reclaimed everything if left to do so.
She raised her camera, shooting off a series of shots, fascinated by the play of light through the yawning window frames and the juxtaposition of new life and growth with what had been the complete obliteration of a wealthy home. The sound of hoofbeats and the creak of leather dragged her attention back to the here and now.
A large, dark horse cantered with incredible grace across the hard-packed ground, the man on its back no less beautiful. Her body recognized him before she could make out his face. Ethan reined in the horse a few meters in front of her.
“I didn’t realize your charter included the ruin,” he said stiffly, looking down the long blade of his nose at her.
“My charter, as you so eloquently put it, is to compile a collection of photos of the property, and specifically to create dossiers of pictures for each business center associated with The Masters. This is part of the property, is it not?”
She squinted up at him. Had he done that on purpose? Ridden toward her with the sun at his back to put her at a disadvantage?
“Part of its history, not its present.” He swung one long denim-clad leg over the back of the horse and, letting go of the reins, kicked out of the other stirrup to drop, with the finesse of a large cat, to the ground. He took a few steps toward her.
“Aren’t you worried he’ll run away?” she asked, gesturing toward the horse.
Ethan shook his head. “He knows his place.”
Isobel felt her lips pull into a smile. She had to hand it to the guy. He was nothing if not confident and completely self-assured. Her eyes raked over him, taking in the slightly mussed hair from his ride, the beat of his pulse at the open neck of his shirt, the way his cuffs were rolled up slightly exposing strong forearms. She rapidly averted her gaze before she did anything stupid, like start to send him the wrong signals.
Ethan Masters obviously knew his place, too. Master of all he surveyed. Looking out over the vineyard and the buildings below them, she had to admit that it was quite an estate that he lorded over. But that didn’t mean she answered to him.
Ignoring every cell in her body, which demanded she stay within Ethan’s orbit, she took a few steps away.
“I think I’ll head back.”
“So soon?”
There was a note to his voice that she didn’t quite understand. Half snark, half enticement. He was a conundrum, all right. Last night he’d made it clear that she was persona non grata. At least as far as he was concerned. And yet, just now, he must have seen her here and had chosen to join her. He could easily have avoided talking to her.
Isobel shrugged. “I’ve been here awhile.”
“Don’t you want to hear the history behind Masters’ Rise? Most do.”
“I’m not most people, though, am I?”
He cocked his head slightly to one side, as if he was seeing her again but for the first time. “No, you’re definitely not.”
“It’s not my habit to look at the past,” she felt compelled to add. “I’m more about the here and now.”
“An interesting trait,” he commented.
“One I thought you might appreciate, given that you seem to want to forget we met before last night,” she answered, the challenge clear in her voice.
“Touché,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “Look, I’m sorry for how I reacted last
night. It was uncalled for.”
Isobel stared in surprise. An apology? From Ethan? Goodness—maybe the moon really was made of blue cheese after all.
“Apology accepted,” she managed to say, biting her tongue to prevent herself from adding a smart-mouthed rejoinder.
Ethan gave a brief nod. “If you’re heading back now, do you want a ride?”
“On that?” she asked.
There was little that frightened Isobel in this world, but horses were very near the top of that short list. In fact, she’d rather be sheltering under gunfire from tribal militia than climb on board that creature. No one said fear had to be rational.
“Afraid?”
There was a distinct challenge in that single word.
“Definitely,” she said. “Thanks, but I’ll walk.”
“I won’t let any harm come to you.” He held out a hand. “Come on. Don’t you trust me?”
She shook her head. “After last night, no. You made your feelings about me being here quite clear.”
“Perhaps I’m merely being a good host.”
Isobel snorted her disbelief. “Look, I said I’m happy to stay out of your way as much as I can, so how about you let me do that?”
Ethan fixed her with a hard stare, his chiseled lips set into a firm line of disapproval. Clearly, he was used to being obeyed, especially in his own domain. She held his gaze with her chin tilted up. Obedience had never been her strongest suit.
“Fine,” he said after what felt like long minutes rather than seconds. “Tamsyn mentioned at breakfast that she plans to pick you up at the cottage at lunchtime for your full tour of the property today. Don’t keep her waiting.”
Ethan swung up onto the back of his horse and gathered the reins. Without another word he wheeled the beast around and headed back in the direction he’d arrived.
Isobel couldn’t tear her eyes from the dashing figure he made on horseback. His long, powerful legs clamped to the horse’s flanks, his body moving in synchronicity with the animal’s gait. His fluidity and grace sent a wild spear of longing through her.
What would it have been like to double back with him? To feel the strength of his body supporting hers, to relinquish her safety to him and his ability to control the powerful animal beneath him? Isobel clenched her hands into tight fists and fought back the groan of frustration that built inside. Ethan had a powerful magnetism that pushed all her buttons every blasted time she came into contact with him. She needed to get a grip on herself or this contract would prove to be the most difficult and potentially dangerous one she’d ever embarked upon. Not physically, perhaps, but mentally—and she’d never, ever let anyone mess with her mind before.
She didn’t plan to now, either.
* * *
Ethan checked the first of the ferments he had in progress and was relieved to have the distraction. What on earth had possessed him to talk to Isobel Fyfe this morning? He’d woken, determined to keep as much space between them as possible and had taken Obsidian for a much-needed dose of exercise and fresh air to clear his head. But the instant he’d seen a flash of color topped by the sun-kissed glow of blond hair, he’d headed toward the ruins. Even knowing it could only have been one person, he’d still gone there. Was he a closet masochist perhaps? he wondered scathingly as he considered his earlier actions.
She’d walked and climbed a fair distance and yet she’d looked as fresh and ready to tackle the return journey as she’d probably been when she’d started. She’d virtually glowed with health and vitality and he had to admire her fitness. He could attest personally to her physical strength, stamina and agility, and that memory hovered persistently at the back of his mind.
Relief warred with frustration at her refusal to ride back to the house with him. He wasn’t used to being turned down, and for all he’d sworn he’d steer clear of her there was a part of him that still craved the warmth of her body hard against his—even if it was only on the back of a horse. He’d owed Isobel an apology; he’d given it. That was all.
Ethan shook his head and attempted to apply himself to his work. He had a meeting with Raif and Uncle Edward later today to discuss future planting programs and there was still plenty to attend to here at the winery. He was ever thankful that he had a strong team working with him. Without their hard work and support, especially through this fermentation period, he wouldn’t be able to accomplish nearly as much. And he needed to accomplish something today—needed something to occupy his mind and energy so they wouldn’t keep turning in the wrong direction.
He was particularly excited about the special reserve chardonnay they would soon be harvesting from The Masters reserve block. The oldest vines on the property, and the only ones to survive the fire that had decimated the house on the hill and virtually everything around it, they had been the backbone of the business as the family knew it today. There was a sense of pride and longevity in every vintage he’d been involved in and the harvest would be painstakingly handpicked before being crushed to extract the juice. The timing of the harvest was crucial to the outcome of the wine, as would be the fermentation process, but Ethan had full confidence in his team’s ability to bring out the very best the crop had to offer.
He loved his work. Loved the science and the technicalities, as well as the romance and sensibilities involved in the making of the fine wines The Masters prided themselves on. And this part of the property, where the grapes reached their full potential, was his place.
A noise at the door made him stop what he was doing and turn to see who’d arrived.
“And this is the winery,” Tamsyn said. “Where, according to Ethan, the magic begins, although I think Uncle Edward and Raif would have something to say about that because to them it’s all about the vines.”
Ethan’s body went on high alert as Tamsyn and Isobel came toward him. Isobel had changed from her earlier attire and was wearing a soft floaty dress that alternately clung and flicked away around her legs. Legs he wasn’t looking at, he reminded himself while dragging his eyes up her body.
“I’m showing Isobel around the property,” Tamsyn said with a blithe smile, completely ignoring the daggers he was mentally throwing at her. “I thought we’d start here.”
Before Ethan could respond, Tamsyn’s cell phone began to trill and she excused herself to take the call.
“So this is where the magic begins, huh? With you?” Isobel said softly. “Who’d have thought?”
Ethan’s eyes meshed with hers and he couldn’t help thinking about the breathtaking magic they’d created together. Before he could answer, Tamsyn ended her call.
“Ethan, that was bridezilla’s mom. I have to meet them at the restaurant to confirm the menus again. Looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree with that bunch.”
“Now?” he asked, struggling to keep a note of somewhat panicked displeasure from his tone.
“Sure, now. Nothing with that family is ever anything less than immediate. You can look after Isobel, right?” She turned to Isobel and gave her a quick hug. “Sorry to dump you on my brother, but if I don’t get back here in the next couple of hours, I’ll still see you for a drink before dinner, okay?”
And then she was gone. Leaving him alone, quite deliberately he suspected, with the one woman he would have preferred on the other side of the world.
“Look, I’ll just take care of myself,” Isobel began. “It’s obvious you’re busy.”
Every cell in his body urged him to accept her offer but a perverse alter ego pushed him to reply in the negative. Did she think he couldn’t control himself around her, couldn’t be the flawless host and tour guide the situation required him to be? She would learn that there was little he could not do, once he set his mind to it.
“I can spare a few minutes to show you around.”
“Look, only if you’re sur
e it’s no bother.”
“Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to follow.
“Why do I get the impression you’ve neglected to say ‘Let’s get this over with’ at the end of that?”
There was a barely suppressed bubble of laughter at the back of her voice and he felt his lips tug reluctantly into a wry smile in response. “I didn’t say that.” Though apparently, it was completely obvious that that was what he’d been thinking.
She laughed out loud at his dry response. “Look, why don’t we start as if we have never met before.”
Ethan looked at her askance. “You have to be kidding, right?”
Even now her light scent filled his nostrils. He could still vividly remember the feel of her body against his, the taste of her skin, the sensation of joining with her in the most intimate of possible ways. No, there was no way on this earth that he was capable of pretending they’d never met before, never shared the closeness and familiarity with one another’s bodies that they’d experienced.
“Yeah, okay, you’re right. It was worth a shot.” She looked around the area they were in, taking in the large tanks and barrels that lined the walls. “This really is where it happens, isn’t it? Can you walk me through what has to take place to get to this point and what it is that you do here?”
“I thought you were a photographer, not a wannabe winemaker.”
Isobel shrugged. “I like to understand my subjects before I begin to work. Makes it easier to know what is important and what isn’t.”
Ethan gave her an assessing look, taken aback by how genuinely interested she appeared. He launched into a description of the coordination of tasks that were required between the vineyard and the winery and was challenged by the astute questions she asked in a bid for more information. By the time he was leading her through the building to the main entrance, a couple of hours had flown by.
She was surprisingly good company, though all along his body had been buoyed by a buzz of latent attraction that simmered beneath the surface. He’d tried to avoid physical contact, but on those few occasions their hands had brushed as they walked along, he’d been shocked by the flare of hunger and desire that had flashed through him.
One Secret Night Page 6