All of which sounded perfectly fine, she thought warily, but wasn’t the same thing at all.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, trying not to sound cautious.
He slid closer. “I’ve been thinking about a cruise.”
“I’ve never been on a cruise.”
“You’ll love it. I’ll find a wonderful itinerary. I was thinking of Australia and the South Pacific. Maybe we can sail from Los Angeles.”
He lowered his head and began to kiss along her neck.
“From Los Angeles,” she said, trying to ignore the tingles and heat he evoked. “That’s a long cruise.”
“Two months.”
“What?” she asked with a yelp. “You want us to be gone for two months?”
He straightened and smiled. “No, three months. After that we’ll fly to Italy and rent a villa, then explore.”
Three months! Was he insane?
“I can’t be gone that long,” she began. “Bel Après needs me.”
He took her champagne glass from her and set it on the coffee table. “You have good people, my love. Give them room to succeed.”
Which sounded like something Catherine would say, she thought, fighting a flash of annoyance.
“Three months is ridiculous,” she told him.
He untied her robe. When he put his hands on her breasts, she was much less interested in the argument.
“We need to talk about this,” she said, but without much conviction.
“We will,” he promised as his mouth settled on hers.
She really should insist they talk now, she told herself, then decided it could wait. It seemed that lately sex was always the answer, and why would she want to change that?
six
According to Stephanie’s research, the Marington family had been making cheese in eastern Washington for about a hundred years. The milk used to make the cheese came from local cows and nearly half of it was certified organic. They had a good reputation for quality and taste, and from what she could tell, they were looking to expand their brand beyond the local markets and specialty stores. The fourth-generation Maringtons, fraternal twins Jack and Jill—Stephanie had confirmed the unfortunate names—were using social media to make that happen, and they were looking for someone to help with that.
To that end Stephanie had spent the past week studying the company and researching the market. She had three solid campaign ideas and a lot of numbers on cheese consumption, market entry and partnerships. Her plan was to dazzle and get the job offer of her dreams. The fact that the thought of telling her mother she was leaving Bel Après made her slightly sick to her stomach was something she was going to have to ignore. She needed more than she had, and the only way to make that happen was to be proactive. She was hopeful and nervous, but mostly hopeful.
After parking in front of the low, one-story building, she gave herself a twenty-second pep talk, grabbed her handbag and briefcase, and walked inside.
There was no receptionist. Just an open space with a couple of chairs and a hallway leading to several offices. She couldn’t see or hear anyone, which made her wonder if she’d gotten the date or time wrong. She called out, “Hello?”
“Hey, Stephanie?” A tall, slim man walked out of one of the offices. He smiled when he saw her. “Right on time. I’m Jack.”
They shook hands.
Jack had blond hair and blue eyes. His features weren’t unattractive, but there was something very bland about his appearance.
“Good to meet you,” he said. “Come on back and let’s talk.”
She followed him into a cluttered office. Papers were stacked everywhere, including on the only visitor’s chair. She waited while he cleared that, trying not to flinch as she inhaled the smell of what could only be called bad cheese.
“There you go.” He took the seat on the other side of the desk, glanced at his computer screen, frowned, then turned his attention to her.
“You work at Bel Après,” he said. “That’s wine. I’m not much of a wine drinker myself, but I know enough to put together a pairing. We send out suggestions of what wines to drink with our cheeses. Our customers like that sort of thing.” He stared at her intently, his pale blue eyes watering slightly. “Wine is easy, just so you know. Cheese is hard. I hope you understand that.”
She had no idea what to say to that comment, so she settled on a faint smile and nod.
“We’re looking to grow the company,” he said. “Find different markets, have a bigger online presence. Our cousin Bing has been doing our website. He’s a great kid. Computers are his thing, but he doesn’t always take care of everything, you know.”
“Kid?” Stephanie asked faintly. “As in, he’s young?”
“Fourteen. He took over the website when he was eleven. He prefers robotics, but family is family, right?”
Stephanie was saved from having to respond to that by the sound of footsteps in the hall. Seconds later a woman walked into the office. A woman who looked exactly like Jack. Same features, same coloring, same size, same blue shirt and khaki pants. They were identical—except for the whole man-woman thing.
“I’m Jill,” the woman said, moving papers off the credenza and sitting there. “You’re here about the marketing job, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Jill looked at her brother, her expression peevish. “I’ve told you, I can handle it.”
Jack shook his head. “We’ve been over this. We need someone with training.”
“Oh, please. So she has a college degree. Big whoop. I can do the job in my sleep.”
“And yet you don’t.”
“I’m going to tell Dad what you’re up to.”
Jack offered Stephanie a tight smile. “You’ve worked in a family company, so you understand the push-pull dynamics, I’m sure.”
Jill turned to Stephanie. “Are you married?”
“I...what?”
“Married. A lot of women try to work here because they want to marry Jack. That’s not going to happen. He’s not going to be interested in you. He doesn’t need you in his life. He has me.”
Okay, so now the creep factor was a bigger deterrent than the cheese smell. Whatever hope she’d had crashed to the ground and crawled away. If the interview was going this badly, there was no chance the job was going to work out.
“Jill, come on. She’s not here to marry me. She wants a job.” He looked at Stephanie. “Why do you want to leave Bel Après?”
“I wanted to challenge myself with something new. Your expansion plans are exciting, and I was thinking I could help with that.”
At least she had been thinking that. Now she was much less sure.
Jill stood up. “You’re not right for the job. I don’t care what Jack says. You can’t have it.”
Jack glared at her. “This is my interview, not yours. You don’t get to say.”
“I get as much say as you get. We’re equal partners. Besides, you know what Mom and Dad are going to think. They don’t like outsiders. I don’t know why you even brought her in for the job.” Jill looked at Stephanie. “You’re not going to get it.”
“Okay, then.” Stephanie rose and smiled at both of them. “Thank you so much for your time. Good luck with the expansion.”
With that, she walked out the way she’d come. Once in her car, she breathed in non-cheese-smelling air and told herself at least there was a bright side. She’d wasted—she glanced at her watch—only eight minutes of her life, not counting the research she’d done and, hey, the drive over. But better to know now rather than quit and take the job only to discover she couldn’t make it work.
Which all sounded great but didn’t shake her sense of disappointment. She hadn’t even had a practice interview. Walla Walla wasn’t a big town, so there weren’t a lot of marketing jobs available, especially w
ith her excluding the wine industry. So she was back to where she’d started—working for her mother and wishing for something more.
* * *
Mackenzie poured single malt Scotch into two glasses and carried them into Rhys’s study. He stood behind his desk, sorting through the mail. She’d already looked at it herself, and there was nothing to concern her. A utility bill that he would pay and some flyers for local real estate for sale. The Walla Walla area was growing and the housing market had heated up.
When she set the glass on his desk, he smiled at her. “Thanks.”
They moved to the sofa and sat at opposite ends.
“The drip system is fixed,” he told her. “You’ll want to drive out in the next few days and look it all over.”
She smiled. “Because I don’t trust your work?”
“Because you like to be sure.”
She did and she would check. Her need to oversee all aspects of the vineyards had nothing to do with his ability and everything to do with her slightly obsessive nature.
“I heard one of the big grocery store chains applied for a permit,” he said. “They’re building down by that new development.”
“That will make the people who live there happy. I was just thinking how the area is growing.”
“It is.”
They looked at each other, then away. Silence descended, making her uncomfortable. She and Rhys had always ended their days together, talking about what was going on in the vineyard and in town. But lately, conversation seemed harder to come by and she wasn’t sure why. They were married, they loved each other. Surely there was something to talk about that wasn’t work.
“Your mom texted,” she said to fill the empty space. “She and Giorgio are staying an extra day in Seattle.”
“Good for them.”
She nodded. “They seem really happy and in love.”
“They do.”
She glanced at her husband and was surprised to find him looking at her with unexpected intensity.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just thinking about my mom. Who would have guessed she would meet someone so many years after my dad died?”
“You’re not upset, are you?”
“No. I’m glad she won’t be alone. Giorgio takes good care of her. It’s just...” He looked away and the silence returned.
She set down the glass and wondered when everything had changed for them. They had been happy once.
“Do you think we—”
“Are you ever—”
They both stopped talking.
“You first,” Rhys said.
She drew in a breath, wanting to ask the question and yet terrified of his answer. “Was it ever like that with us? The way they are with each other?”
He didn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
There was no maybe, she thought. If it had been like that, wouldn’t they both remember? Would it be helping them now? A past filled with that much love and passion would smooth over the rough spots.
“I know you’re not happy,” he said quietly.
“Neither are you.”
There was a finality to those words, she thought sadly. Or maybe just hopelessness.
He glanced at her, then away. “I still love you, Mackenzie.”
“I love you, too.”
Which should have been enough, she thought, suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of sadness so profound, she had trouble breathing. But it wasn’t enough, because the love they were talking about wasn’t passionate or even romantic. Not anymore. They were friends, not lovers. Companions rather than a romantic couple, and while marriages ebbed and flowed, theirs seemed to be draining away on a daily basis.
Rhys stood. She thought he was going to walk out of the room but instead he moved in front of her and pulled her to her feet. His arms came around her and he kissed her.
The action was so unexpected, she didn’t know how to react. The pressure of his mouth was insistent and she instinctively parted her lips.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth, stroking and seeking. At the same time, he moved his hands up and down her back before cupping her butt and pulling her against him. She was shocked to realize he had an erection.
She had no idea what to think or feel or how to act. Nothing he was doing was the least bit arousing but it was clear he wanted to have sex, and it had been literally years and they were married and saying no felt mean and punitive, somehow, even though that wouldn’t have been how she meant it.
She ignored the awkwardness and the need to withdraw, instead putting her hands on his shoulders and kissing him back, leaning into him, rubbing her belly against his arousal, wishing she felt something. Anything. But she didn’t. There was only a sense of duty and not wanting to hurt Rhys because, honest to God, the man hadn’t done anything wrong.
He raised his head and stared at her. His eyes were dilated, his breathing heavy. She knew what he wanted. Nothing extraordinary—just sex with his wife. It had been so long since they’d been intimate. Guilt at that fact made her smile at him and hold out her hand. He took it and led her upstairs.
He led her into his bedroom. They went to opposite sides of the bed and quickly undressed. Mackenzie tried to remember the last time they’d done this. Had it been four years? Five? She wasn’t sure which had come first—the separate bedrooms or the not having sex. Not that it much mattered.
They slid into bed. Rhys pulled her close and kissed her. As his tongue tangled with hers, he cupped her breast and began teasing her nipple. After a minute or so, she felt the first flicker of interest low in her belly. A whisper of desire and the thought that maybe this really was a good idea. She relaxed into the sensation, willing it to grow. Maybe sex would help them find their way back to each other.
“Are you ready?” he asked eagerly, shifting her onto her back and moving between her legs. Before she could answer, he was pushing inside.
She wasn’t close to ready. The first two thrusts were painful, but then her body adjusted. She moved in time with his movements and tried to get into what he was doing, but there wasn’t time. As he moved faster inside of her, obviously getting closer, she thought briefly about faking an orgasm, but before she could decide or get started on the process, he groaned and was still.
For nearly a minute, his rapid breathing was the only sound in the room.
He withdrew and looked at her. “You didn’t come.”
“It’s okay.”
“Let me get cleaned up and I can do something.”
He moved to his side and took a box of tissues out of the drawer. He passed her a couple, then took a few for himself. After pulling on his underwear, he returned to the bed and faced her.
“Mackenzie, I want to make you come.” He gave her a wry smile. “I was a little rushed before because it’s been a long time.”
He sounded so earnest. Because Rhys always took care of her. She thought about what it would take to get her over the edge and knew she didn’t want to go there. What was the point? Whatever interest she’d had was gone, leaving only a sense of sadness and a ridiculous urge to cry.
“It has been a while, but I’m okay.”
His smile faded. “You don’t want me to?”
She shook her head.
He stared at her. Just when she was about to ask what he was thinking, she saw tears in his eyes.
“It’s over, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. “Our marriage. We’re done.”
It was as if he’d hit her in the stomach. She couldn’t breathe and she fought the instinctive need to curl into a protective ball and cover her head. Her body went cold and she thought she might throw up. Even as she told herself to run, she knew she couldn’t possibly stand without crumbling to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “God, I’m sorry. I th
ought that’s what you were thinking. Mackenzie, I’m sorry. I take it back. I swear, I take it back.”
He couldn’t, she thought, stunned by what he’d said. There was no taking it back. Horror joined shock as the truth crashed into her. He’d breathed life into the very thing they’d both avoided for a long time and now it was alive and they had to deal with it. She had to deal with it. With what they no longer had and how the speaking, the acknowledging, would change everything.
She wanted to reach into the past and pull the words away, crumbling them in her hands so they no longer existed or had power over her, but it was too late.
When she was reasonably sure she wouldn’t shatter, she sat up, careful to pull the sheet with her. The tightness in her chest eased enough for her to catch her breath, as she tried to make sense of what he’d said.
Rhys thought their marriage was over. He thought they were done. And if he thought that, then they were, because it took two people to be in a marriage. It took two people to—
“You’re right,” she whispered, staring at him. The shock faded enough for her to feel the sadness of the moment and maybe a little of the inevitability. It was done. They were done.
She sat with the truth, wondering how to get through this moment and the next and all the moments that would follow. Who was she if not married to Rhys? Being with him informed her life, the rhythm of her days. Without that, what did she have? He had been a part of her for her entire adult life. If that was gone, how would the hole he left ever fill in?
His tears returned. Without thinking, she reached for him. He did the same and they hung on to each other. She breathed in his familiar scent, felt the heat of his body and knew this was very likely the last time they would be naked together. Not in a sexual way, although that was true, too, but in a bared-to-the-soul kind of way. As soon as they let go, everything would change because there was no going back.
She didn’t know how long they clung to each other or who leaned back first, but eventually they untangled and they were simply two people, staring at each other.
The Vineyard at Painted Moon Page 6