“I’m glad you guys could sort it out,” Isobel said, gathering her things together to hide her awkwardness.
To her surprise, his hands closed around hers, halting her in her actions. How on earth had he moved so fast? He drew her round to face him.
“Isobel, I am sorry for the way I spoke to you. I’ve been angry since the day I met you—struggling to come to terms with my father’s death, with my additional responsibilities here, with the awful truth he kept from Tam and me all those years. I began to associate you with that emotion, and it wasn’t fair.” His mouth quirked into a crooked smile, one that made her heart somersault in her chest before he continued. “I’m not proud to admit it, but I needed you that first night to take me away from all of that—to wipe things from my mind. By the morning, when you’d gone, I felt as though I had it all under control again. Then, when you turned up here, it just brought my vulnerability back to me. Being weak isn’t something that sits comfortably on my shoulders.”
“Believe me, whatever pleasure or escape you got from us being together, I got that, too.”
“Escape? What do you need to escape from, Isobel?”
He lifted a hand to move a strand of hair from where it had fallen across her cheek. His touch sent an instant line of fire searing across her skin.
For a minute she thought of the atrocities she’d so recently left behind her. The ones she still felt a moral burden to bring to public awareness through her blog and, with luck, more gallery showings worldwide. This world here at The Masters was so far removed from the day-to-day existence she’d come to accept as normal that, by contrast, it was almost a fantasy come true.
But whose fantasy? She hadn’t stood still long enough in the past ten years to even begin to remember what it was like to be rooted in one place. To call somewhere home. And she didn’t want to, she reminded herself with a hard mental shake. No matter how compelling the impetus to do otherwise.
“Isobel?” Ethan prompted.
She shook her head. “Nothing. Just...nothing.”
“Am I forgiven?” he asked, his dark eyes boring into hers as if willing it to be so.
“Of course,” she answered as lightly as she could manage. “But you must forgive me, too.”
“Done,” he agreed.
Isobel pulled her hands from his and stepped back. “Right, now that’s settled, I’d better get back to work.”
She felt flustered, his behavior today surprising her more than she cared to admit—showing a side of him that she hadn’t envisioned.
“Don’t let me hold you back,” Ethan replied, turning to the table and recapping the wine bottle. “Here, take this back to your cottage and when you try it, think about what we went over.”
Isobel very much doubted she’d ever be able to think about anything or anyone else when she touched wine again, but she accepted the bottle and then collected her camera bag and left the winery. Outside the autumn sunshine was clear and bright, quite a contrast to the controlled environment she’d just left and, she realized, a perfect analogy for her and Ethan. His world was controlled by season and longevity, security and routine. Her world was full of light and air and impermanence. They didn’t belong together. Aside from a physical synchronicity that transcended all others, they were complete and utter opposites.
But if that was the case, why did it hurt so much to think about leaving here, leaving him?
* * *
Ethan returned from dinner with Shanal feeling completely out of sorts. Despite his overtures, she’d shown no interest in developing their relationship any further than their existing friendship. He’d seeded their conversation with hints about her hopes for the future, her dreams. Marriage hadn’t figured in there at all. And then there’d been the lack of physical contact or even chemistry between them. Sure, they’d talked long into the evening about their work, but he knew that if a marriage between them was to work, they needed more. They needed some compatibility beyond inquiring minds and similar interests.
Yet every time he thought about compatibility, a different face swam into view. A face framed with sun-kissed blond hair. A face with blue eyes, not green. He’d felt better for apologizing to Isobel and hoped the truce between them would dull the edge of the wild infatuation that had plagued him from the moment he’d first seen her. He’d sworn to himself he’d keep his hands off her from now on. It was too dangerously addictive being around her.
Fortunately, creating distance between them at The Masters had proven quite straightforward as she threw herself into finishing the assignment. They’d crossed paths only briefly since she’d done the tasting shoot, acknowledging one another’s presence with little more than a nod or a wave in passing. Their dealings were now confined to email as he’d approved her selection of proofs to be dealt with by their marketing department.
He knew she’d be leaving soon, very soon. It was a relief to know he didn’t have to spend every waking minute wondering if he’d see her or catch a reminder of her scent.
Ethan garaged his car and made his way up to his bedroom, crossing the floor swiftly to draw his drapes closed. As he did each night, however, he paused at the window. His eyes were inexorably drawn to Isobel’s cottage. The interior lights burned until late every night. Either she was a complete night owl or she had about as much trouble sleeping as he did. He closed the drapes with a sharp snap and got ready for bed, forcing his thoughts to turn to Shanal Peat again.
What was it about the two of them that didn’t spark? he wondered as he lay in the dark. He’d thought it would be so simple. Well, he’d make it work somehow. He just had to. He had the future of his entire family network to consider and ensuring its stability was one of his many responsibilities. Someone like Shanal was perfect.
And if he told himself often enough, he might just believe it.
But as the hours ticked over and sleep remained elusive, he found his thoughts straying in a different direction. One that lay only a couple of hundred meters from him right now. One that was completely wrong for him and his plans for the future on so many levels he shouldn’t even be thinking of her at all.
Ethan rolled over and focused on making his body relax, emptying his mind, breathing deep—and then starting with his toes and working up his body, clenching and releasing muscles until he all but melted into the surface of his mattress. Then an image of Isobel flicked into his mind again. Just like that he was taut as a bow once more. Taut and aching and thinking all kinds of inappropriate thoughts for a man who was attempting to woo a different woman altogether.
What kind of man did that make him? Certainly not one he was proud to be. All his life he’d striven for excellence, worked tirelessly for his family’s and, more important, his father’s respect. And he’d earned it. He’d basked in their pleasure in his achievements, at first academically and then later on with the wines he’d produced to many international accolades.
He’d done it all for them but he’d done it for himself, too. He enjoyed the ride, the challenges, the success. Why couldn’t he succeed at this? Why did his friendship with Shanal lack the vital catalyst that pushed a relationship past amity and into passion?
And why couldn’t he get his mind off a woman who was wrong for him in every way? She was a free spirit, while he was bound by a hundred different ties. He thrived on responsibility and commitment while she ran the other way. He wanted to spend his life at The Masters, contributing to his family’s legacy, while by all indications, she couldn’t get away fast enough. And yet somehow, Isobel challenged him on every level—mentally and physically. He didn’t want to want her like this but she was now embedded in his psyche.
He got out of bed with a frustrated growl and went through to his bathroom for a glass of water. Something, he hoped, that would slake the thirst that made him crave so much more than a long draw of cool liquid.
She’d be leaving The Masters soon, probably even leaving Australia, and that was a very good thing, he told his hazy reflection in the moonlit en suite. A very good thing, indeed.
But the thought of never seeing her again made his body ache and turned his mind to the two nights they’d shared. He wanted more. He wanted her. He wanted that sensation of having his senses scattered to the wind, he wanted to take risks and do crazy things with her. He wanted, even for only that briefest moment, to be wonderfully and truly happy again. To forget the responsibilities and pressures that confined him and to give himself over fully to the moment.
He wanted Isobel Fyfe.
Thirteen
“Ethan, you have to go to the awards ceremony. You can’t possibly think of sending someone else.”
Tamsyn had been reminding him of the upcoming wine awards ceremony for days now and he’d been ignoring each reminder deliberately. He knew he had an amazing team but he also hated to leave the property at this stage of the winemaking process. The reserve chardonnay was about to head into its secondary fermentation and bulk aging in oak barrels, while the Shiraz was already into its malolactic fermentation stage.
Sure, he could delegate a lot of the testing that needed to take place at this point—it was how he’d been trained by his father and how his father had been trained before him, after all. If you didn’t share and, in some cases, relinquish responsibility, no one learned anything of real value along the way. The family often teased him about the stranglehold he kept on operations and his pedantic methods, but they worked. After all, wasn’t that why The Masters was up for this most recent award in the first place? Quality was everything.
“Ethan? Are you even listening to me?” Tamsyn persisted.
“Of course I’m listening to you. Will you come with me?”
“I wish I could, you know that. But this weekend is bridezilla’s parents’ surprise anniversary and vow renewal service.” His sister pulled a face that left no doubt as to how eager she was to see the back of the coming weekend. “Why don’t you take someone else?”
“Hmm, I wonder if Shanal is free?” he pondered out loud.
“Shanal? I was thinking more along the lines of Isobel.” Tamsyn gave him a pointed look.
“Isobel?” His senses went on high alert at the very thought of her.
“Why not? Maybe she could take some photos, as well. Marketing will be able to use them, if not in the new brochure then certainly for other publicity releases for the vintage. I can check with her if you like.”
Ethan stroked his chin thoughtfully. If he took Isobel, he knew the awards ceremony would be very much the last thing on his mind. “Let me check with Shanal first.”
“Really? Ethan, she’s lovely and she’s a wonderful friend but why are you doing this?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why are you ignoring what you could have with Isobel to chase after Shanal, who we both know you don’t care about in that way?”
“Tamsyn—” he started to protest but his sister cut him off.
“No, don’t fob me off. We’ve learned the hard way how precious things are in life. How special relationships can be. I know you like Shanal, and she’s lovely, but she’s your friend, not your lover. You can’t create what isn’t there. With Isobel I know you have that special something. Can’t you just give it a try?”
“Look, you’re on the wrong track. Isobel and I... We’re not suited. It wouldn’t work out in the long term.”
“Damn the long term!” Tamsyn’s outburst startled him. “What about how she makes you feel? Think about it, Ethan. Life isn’t just a series of processes season in and season out. Sometimes you have to roll with change, exercise your senses, allow yourself to take a walk on the wild side. Do what feels right in the moment instead of sticking to the plan come what may.”
There were tears in his sister’s eyes. “What’s going on, Tamsyn? This is about more than who I invite to the awards, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like I can just trot along on my merry little life path the way I used to anymore. Things have changed. We need to learn to change with them. Since Dad died I’ve been thinking a lot about my life and my future. I don’t know if I want the same things anymore. I don’t think, if you’re really honest with me and with yourself, you do, either. And I have questions that I no longer have the answers for. Don’t you? Don’t you want to know more about Mum, about why she left, about why she stayed away? About why Dad never spoke about her again or let her see us?
“Things have changed now that I know she’s alive. I can’t pretend everything’s the same and just trundle along as if all is business as usual. I don’t feel as if I can move forward again until I know the answers to those questions. They’re important to me. You should be considering what’s really important to you, too.”
She turned and left his office before he could reply, tension radiating from her body in waves. It upset him to see her like this. Tamsyn was usually so centered, so level. Always the one to smooth troubled waters and to make sure that everyone was happy. Their father had called her “his biddable child” because she’d always do whatever was expected of her with a smile on her face. He knew she’d still deliver on everything that was expected of her, but at what cost to herself?
Damn, he wished she was still his baby sister that he could still guard against the things that would upset her, but he’d accepted he could no longer do that. She was an adult and had long since earned the right to stand on her own two feet. All he could do was make certain she knew she had his backing if she needed it, as he had hers. Which brought him back to what she’d said just now. About considering what was important to him.
The Masters, most definitely, and everyone associated with it—but even as he thought it, his mind drifted to a slender waif of a woman. One with lightly tanned skin, clear blue eyes and hair the color of sunshine after a spring rain.
He was on his feet and heading out of his office before he could double think this. Tamsyn was right. His time with Isobel was short. He needed to make the most of it.
And he wouldn’t let himself think about how soon it would come to an end.
* * *
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Isobel asked as she tightened the straps on her pack.
“No.”
Ethan’s reply was succinct and made her look up and do a double take at the expression on his face.
“I thought we weren’t going to—”
“We weren’t.”
“But we’re—”
“We are.”
“Okay.” She breathed out on a long breath and lifted her pack to walk out of the cottage toward Ethan’s car. “Are we staying in the apartment again?”
His lips firmed as if he was weighing up his response. “Yes, unless you’d rather stay at a hotel?”
“No, I’d rather be at the apartment. I liked it there,” she answered with a smile that felt both slightly shy and unashamedly bold at the same time.
He was different today. In fact, he’d been different from the moment he’d asked her if she’d like to be his plus one at the awards evening. She’d basically wrapped up all her work at The Masters, with the exception of a shoot of Cade’s latest dessert creation, which Cathleen had insisted on including in their feature. Theoretically, she was a free spirit once again. Free to travel whenever and wherever she wanted to.
The human rights issues were calling her again. The idyll here in South Australia had been an opportunity to recharge her batteries but she needed to get back to work—real work—very soon.
She had to be honest with herself, though. There had been a very definite hold on her here. A hold which began and ended with the man walking at her side—the man who set her senses alight with no more than
a glance. The prospect of even just one more night with him made her senses vibrate with a keenness she knew she ought to control better, but for the life of her, simply didn’t want to.
The ride into Adelaide was smooth and swift and Isobel found herself looking for specific landmarks on the way through. Landmarks that led them closer to the apartment. Ethan spoke only occasionally on the journey into the city but he seemed relaxed, happy even.
When he pulled into the underground parking at the apartment tower and rolled the car into its space, he suddenly reached across the compartment and took her hand.
“We’ve got time. Come on.”
“Time? For what?” She felt the beginnings of a smile tug at her lips.
“You’ll see.” He smiled back and let her hand go, reaching across her to open her car door. “Come on. Let’s not waste a second.”
This side of Ethan was different from the ones she’d seen before. He was more carefree. And the expression on his face, all heat and intent, was making her stomach somersault in anticipation of what he had in mind. Ethan was out of the car and grabbing their things from the trunk before she had even unclipped her seat belt.
“Come on, lazybones,” he chided playfully. “Let’s go.”
She did as he said, catching up with him as he began to walk toward the elevator without so much as a glance back at her. He hit the remote lock and she heard the car’s electronic system engage just as she caught up to him.
The ride up in the elevator was mercifully swift. Isobel’s skin felt tight, too tight for her body, and the light abrasion of her clothing reminded her with every step of the featherlight touch of Ethan’s fingertips upon her. By the time the doors opened in the foyer of the apartment she thought she might explode with the tension that gripped her.
Ethan stepped out of the elevator and dropped their bags on the floor with one movement, then reached for her in another. She was plastered against his body before her thoughts could catch up with her actions. His erection pressed hard against her, his mouth lowered and caressed hers softly before taking her lips in a kiss that all but blew her mind.
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