One Secret Night

by Yvonne Lindsay

  She reached up and hooked her arms around the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in the short strands of his hair and pulling him toward her. She couldn’t get close enough, taste him enough. She swept her tongue gently over his lower lip before catching it lightly between her teeth, suckling against the soft flesh before releasing him again. He shuddered against her, grinding his hips against hers, sliding his thigh between her jean-clad legs and hitching her up slightly.

  Instinctively, her pelvis tilted and she felt the jolt of energy that radiated from her core. She moaned aloud only to have the sound snatched from her mouth as he kissed her again, this time deeper, harder, stronger than before. His hands slid down her body, cupping her buttocks and lifting her higher. She hitched her legs around his waist, holding on to him for dear life as he began to walk them both down the hall, never taking his lips from her for one second.

  Finally, blissfully, she felt a bed at her back. She reached for the fastening of his jeans, her fingers shaking as she undid the metal buttons and shoved the denim off his hips and down the top of his thighs. He did the same, albeit with a little more finesse—taking her G-string briefs with her jeans and hooking off her slip-on shoes in a modicum of movement.

  Isobel reached for him, her fingers closing around his length through his boxer briefs, stroking him through the cotton, reaching lower to cup his balls and squeeze lightly as he dragged a condom from the bedside cabinet. He was sheathed in seconds, sliding inside her in less.

  Their tempo was frantic, her heart beating so fast in her chest she thought she might expire. At last, with a deep thrust, Ethan pushed her body over the edge of desperation and into a realm of feeling so rich and so divine she felt tears slip from the corners of her eyes. He collapsed against her, shoving her deep into the mattress as his body pulsed with his own release.

  She lay beneath him, relishing the weight of his body pinning her to the bed, still enraptured by the heights of responsiveness he drew from her body. She wrapped her arms tight around his waist, not wanting this moment, this closeness to end. Ethan nuzzled her neck, nipping her skin lightly and sending another ripple coursing through to her core. She clenched her inner muscles tight around him, and felt an answering reaction in his own body, that involuntary throb of sensation.

  “Let’s blow off this thing tonight and just stay here,” he said against her throat. “I have tortured myself with denial of you for far too long. Let’s not waste another minute.”

  She laughed, tempted to agree to his outrageous suggestion, but the accolade he was nominated for tonight was major industry recognition. She wanted to see him win, wanted to share in his success.

  “We have the rest of the night after the dinner and awards.”

  “No, it’s not enough,” he said, pressing a line of kisses around the neckline of her blouse. “It’ll never be enough.”

  “What if I promise that if you win, I’ll...”

  She whispered something in his ear.

  “Only if I win?”

  “Well, maybe if you don’t win, too, but only if we go and I get those photos Tamsyn insisted on.”

  He groaned and rested his forehead on hers. “You drive a hard bargain, but okay. I agree. Let’s go shower.”

  He withdrew from her body and stood up, grabbing her hands and pulling her up with him. She laughed again as he kicked off his shoes and the jeans that had settled at his ankles. She felt so relaxed, so unbelievably happy.

  So very much in love.

  Fourteen

  No. She couldn’t be. Not in love. She’d never loved a man, not like this. The realization was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. No, cancel that, she thought. It was quite simply terrifying. She didn’t love. Love meant attachment. Love meant being with someone forever. She didn’t do forever. She did change—a kaleidoscope of people, places, lives.

  But this feeling, this overwhelming reaction that filled her heart and her mind—it was different from anything else she’d ever felt before. It exhilarated her, but it terrified her at the same time.

  Emotionally numb, Isobel allowed Ethan to lead her to the bathroom where he led them into a massive multihead shower and began to soap up her body. The slick feel of his lathered hands on her skin was a welcome distraction to the shattered thoughts that splintered through her mind. She grabbed a metaphorical hold of the desire that began to grow within her, allowing Ethan’s touch to stoke that fire so that it consumed all thought of anything else. When he knelt before her, placing his lips and mouth at her core, doing unspeakably creative things to her with his tongue, she let herself ride the waves until he coaxed her over the edge and into oblivion, leaving her shaking and weak, barely able to stand—definitely unable to think.

  The rest of the evening passed in a blur. She knew she did the right things, went through the right motions, took the right photos, but inside she was still in shock. How had she allowed him under her radar? How had he inveigled his way into her heart?

  In the aftermath of her mother’s death and her father’s quest to run from his grief for the rest of his life, Isobel had sworn she would never let anyone matter that much to her. She never wanted another soul to have that power to inflict hurt or sorrow on her life. She never wanted to be dependent on another for her happiness.

  The way she chose to live was her protection. Looking at her world through a lens, but not necessarily being involved on a deeper scale with it. Oh, sure, she knew people argued that if she didn’t empathize with her subjects, or at the very least feel some sense of responsibility toward them, that she wouldn’t enjoy the success she’d had to date, and they weren’t wrong. She let herself feel, let herself care, but never let herself get truly attached.

  Isobel watched Ethan across the table where they’d been seated upon arrival at the awards ceremony. He looked up for a moment, as if aware of her gaze, and gave her a small secret smile. The look in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat. As he held her gaze she felt her nipples tighten beneath the dress she wore, one that Tamsyn had loaned her and which made her eyes look bluer than blue and her skin become almost luminescent. She smiled in return. It was all she was capable of here in this room filled with people and noise and the clatter of cutlery on fine china. But when she got Ethan alone, oh, yes, then she’d show him exactly what that look did to her, and she’d do it to him, too.

  She noted the exact second her intent reflected in her eyes, the flare of acceptance, of challenge, in his own. His smile deepened and she felt as if time stood still as he made his excuses to the people he was talking with and rose from the table. He was at her side in a moment, his warm hand on her bare shoulder.

  “Had enough for tonight?” he asked as he bent down slightly, his breath warm in her ear and sending a thrill of excitement through her.

  “Not nearly enough,” she replied, reaching for the small beaded bag Tamsyn had also loaned her and rising as he pulled out her chair.

  “Let’s not waste another second, then, hmmm?” he said as he tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.

  They were delayed a few times by people wanting to congratulate Ethan on his latest gold medal success, but the accolades appeared to wash over him. Tension radiated from his body, transferring itself to her in waves.

  As the valet brought Ethan’s car around the front of the reception center she asked him, “Did you enjoy yourself this evening?”

  “Not as much as I enjoyed thinking about the rest of tonight with you.”

  She laughed, the sound a gurgle of joy and surprise. The comment was so unlike the taciturn Ethan she’d come to know. She liked this side of him, too. In fact, she liked pretty much everything about him and she couldn’t wait to show him just how much.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Did you have a good time?”

  She cocked her head a little, considering his
question carefully. “It was good to see you get the recognition you deserve. There were a lot of envious people in the room there tonight. I’d say you could pick your price if you ever wanted to work for another winery pretty much anywhere in the world.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. I’d never leave The Masters.”

  His answer was straight to the point, like him. She hadn’t realized it until he’d said it that she’d been subconsciously asking a question of him—wondering if he’d ever be willing to set off somewhere new, start fresh without the weight of ties and family obligations. He’d given her the answer she expected. It still gave her a pang of regret. No matter the attraction between them, no matter her newfound feelings for Ethan, she was not the woman for him. He needed someone as committed to The Masters as he was himself. Perhaps even more so, as that woman would need to be committed wholly to him also to fully understand why it was so important for him to continue the traditions of generations of Masterses on South Australian soil.

  Isobel was not that person, and acknowledging that blunt truth set up an ache deep inside that she knew would take a long time to ignore. Being busy with her work would be a most excellent way to hurry the process, but in the meantime, she at least had tonight, and maybe another week as she finalized things with Tamsyn and the marketing team over the publicity shots.

  When they returned to the apartment, Isobel found herself wanting to prolong every moment with Ethan, to tuck away memories to take out and savor another day. When he suggested a nightcap, she agreed, and they sat in the massive lounge room, overlooking the lights that sparkled in the distance while sipping an aged tawny port.

  She kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet up onto the sofa where they sat. When Ethan reached for one foot and began to absently massage it she all but melted under his touch. He turned every part of her body into an erogenous zone. She could only hope she could do the same for him.

  And later, in the bedroom, she did her very best so that when they collapsed, exhausted, on their tangled sheets, she felt certain that he’d be as unlikely to forget her as she would to ever, ever forget him.

  * * *

  The persistent buzz of his cell phone vibrating dragged Ethan from a deeply satisfying sleep. He reached for the bedside cabinet and grabbed the phone, sliding from the bed even as he answered it and heading out of the bedroom so he wouldn’t disturb Isobel.

  “Ethan, it’s Rob.”

  Rob, one of the winemakers who formed an integral part of his team at The Masters, spoke before Ethan could even identify himself. His stomach dropped as he registered the concern in his colleague’s voice.

  “What is it?” he demanded, knowing Rob wouldn’t be calling him this early in the morning unless there was a serious problem.

  “It’s not good.”

  Ethan’s brows drew together as he listened. Somehow, someone had put the reserve chardonnay in the wrong tank, inadvertently blending it with a lesser quality wine. By the time he ended the call, Ethan felt sick to his stomach. This was a monumental error that should never have happened. He should have been there—he should have stayed at home and remained focused on his work. He shouldn’t have gone to the awards ceremony. He hadn’t needed the accolade to know what he did was good—he knew what he did was good because he paid attention, because he obsessively kept an eye on progress, because he remained in control.

  But he’d relinquished control and look what had happened. Oh, sure, they’d make a good wine in the long run with careful blending and fining. But it wouldn’t be produced under the renowned The Masters reserve label—the label he personally undertook to ensure was consistently world class.

  “Ethan?” Isobel’s voice came from behind him. “Is everything okay?”

  He felt every muscle in his body weaken at the sound of her voice. And therein lay the chink in his armor. His weakness.

  Isobel.

  He turned to face her. Her cheek had a slight mark on it from where she’d lain on the sheets, and her hair was rumpled, her eyes still heavy lidded with sleep. It didn’t matter how she looked, how she dressed—or undressed, for that matter—she tempted him every single time. And it had to stop. It had to end, here and now. Tamsyn was wrong. It wasn’t worth it to live in the moment—no matter how good the moment might be—if it put everything else at risk.

  “No, everything’s not okay. There’s been a mistake at the winery, one that wouldn’t have happened if I had stayed where I should have been all along.”

  “Oh, no,” she cried sympathetically. “Can it be rectified?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see. The wine itself won’t be of the standard or quality it was designated to be. The waste is epic.”

  Frustration and anger with himself pulled his thoughts this way and that. A growing cycle wasted. He could only imagine what Raif would say when he heard the news. Raif had built his home within sight of the small vineyard that had escaped the bush fires that had nearly destroyed their family’s livelihood so many years ago. He had taken over the nurturing and care of the old vines, and was as vigilant over and proud of his grapes as Ethan was about what he did with their fruit. His cousin would be equally devastated at the news.

  “What happened?” Isobel asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  “What should never have happened. Two wines were mixed that shouldn’t have been, and it’s my fault.”

  “Ethan, you weren’t there. You can’t blame yourself.”

  Isobel put a hand on his arm but he shook it off.

  “Can’t I?” he asked, futile rage beginning to build inside him. “I should have been there.”

  “You have to be able to delegate sometimes, surely.”

  “And if this is what I can expect when I do?” His mind raced with thoughts of things he should have done, checks he should have put into place to keep something like this from occurring. “The final responsibility rests with me. I am the family head, not anyone else.”

  “Ethan—”

  “No, Isobel. Nothing you say changes anything. When my father died, I took over his obligations. All of them.”

  “But you had to be here last night,” she persisted. “You owed it to yourself, to this brand you speak of and to your family to front up for the award.”

  “Owed it to myself?” He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t come because I wanted to receive the award in person. I could have sent anyone else from The Masters. They could have damn well posted the thing to me in the mail! No, I came because I wanted to be with you. I don’t focus when I’m with you.

  “I can’t trust myself when I’m with you, Isobel. I can’t trust myself to be who I’m meant to be—who I was brought up to become. Until I met you nothing and no one could distract me from my work. I believed...I believed I could have both, at least for a little while. I knew you’d be leaving soon, but I thought that while we were here, that we could...that I could... But I can’t, don’t you see? I can’t have you in my life and be good at what I do at the same time. My work has to come first. I owe that to my family, to my father. My work is what will last—” after you go away, he continued silently in his thoughts.

  “And that’s why I can’t see you anymore.”

  Isobel staggered back in shock, her face ashen. But he didn’t hold back. He couldn’t. He took a deep breath.

  “I don’t want you to come back to The Masters with me. You can stay here as long as you need to. I’ll get the building concierge to key your fingerprint into the biometric reader. You can communicate with Tamsyn via the phone and the internet, but I think it’s better if we end this here and now. You’ve finished the job you came here to do. Dragging it out won’t do either one of us any good.”

  “Do you really think sending me off will make things better? Hiding from your feelings won’t make them go away. You have to be stronger than that.”


  “What? Like my father was strong? Like my mother leaving him didn’t change him? He could have gone after her, you know. But he chose to stay—to focus on his family, to focus on the winery. It’s what I have to do, too.” He held up a hand as she started to protest. “No, please. Hear me out on this, Isobel. This thing we have together, it consumes me. I lose control when I’m with you—my temper, my passion, my joy. Everything. I can’t allow myself to be that man.

  “I’m going to get dressed and head home. I’ll leave it to you as to what you do next, but please, don’t come back to the winery.”

  “Ethan, please, think about this some more before you go. I know you’re upset. I know what’s happened with the wine is a big deal, but it’s happened. Can’t you just let it go? Move on?”

  He ignored the wobble in her voice and reached deep for what he had to say next.

  “I am moving on, Isobel. We’re too different to make a relationship between us work. One of us will always end up hurt as a result. It’s what happened to my parents, and I won’t have it happen to me, too. My mother was...like you. A free spirit. And when she couldn’t take being tied down anymore, she decided to leave my father. Take Tamsyn and me and leave him. Pull us from our birthright and our father. No wonder he paid her to stay away after that.”

  He rubbed his eyes with one hand and fought to push back the overwhelming sense of bleakness that now threatened to swamp him. “You and I, we have no future together. You go wherever the wind takes you, but I stay here. ‘Here’ is all I’ve got. And I can’t let my feelings for you distract me from that. Which is why I can’t have you around.”

  * * *

  Isobel stared at him in disbelief. She swallowed against the emotion burning in her throat, determined she wouldn’t show him for even so much as one second how much his words just now had hurt her.

  “Fine. I won’t return to The Masters. I’m just about finished up, anyway. I can complete any last-minute things via email with Tamsyn.”