Читать книгу The Blackmailed Bride's Secret Child / For Business...Or Marriage?: The Blackmailed Bride's Secret Child / For Business...Or Marriage? - Jules Bennett, Rachel Bailey - Страница 10

The sound she’d been dreading came at precisely one minute to seven. Beth walked on trembling legs to the front door. She knew it was Nico—no one else could make a simple knock so commanding. As her hand rested on the brass knob, she took a last glance at herself in her full-length peach gown. It was hardly a dress of mourning, but she loved the skirt of gossamer layers and sheer sleeves in the same shade of peach—and she needed every thread of help she could get tonight to feel strong. Between the celebration of her late husband’s life and her wildly unsettling escort, she’d be lucky to still be sane by the end of the evening.

She smoothed a trembling hand over the bodice, took a deep breath, then opened the carved wooden door.

In an instant, her mouth went dry. Nico stood before her, tall and broad, wearing a tuxedo and a come-to-bed smile. The only time she’d ever seen him in a tuxedo before now was in magazine photos—when they were younger, he’d mainly worn jeans and T-shirts, the clothes he worked in at the vineyards.

But now he was a mature man, and the intense reality of the promise in him called to a place deep inside her, the girl she’d been and the woman she was now. His jaw was shadowed, despite having been freshly shaved. His thick, black hair, though neatly combed, still twisted in the rebel waves she remembered so intimately.

His eyes swept over her, and every square inch of flesh he touched with his gaze quivered, begged for his hands to follow, then his mouth.

“You’re a princess.” His voice was low, husky.

She couldn’t speak, could barely think. Then he leaned in to kiss her cheek, and her eyes drifted closed to savor the feel of his lips as they lingered. In a distant corner of her mind, she was surprised by his tenderness but she refused to spoil the moment by dwelling on his about-face. When he broke the contact, her eyes opened and rested on his mouth.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make an appearance at all tonight. Which is fine by me.” His head angled and began another descent.

Without thinking, she raised her face to meet his kiss, then froze. What was she doing? She blinked once, twice, then pulled back, slowly shaking her head. This was a bad idea on so many levels, from Nico’s coldness since his arrival this morning, to her attending the launch tonight—the winery staff had worked hard for months to put this event together, and since Kent was gone, the least she could do for them was attend.

“We should go.” Her voice was a cracked whisper.

He lifted a brow, yet gave no other reaction, just stood there, filling the doorway with his intensely masculine presence.

Ignoring the heavy lassitude of arousal in her belly, she grabbed her coat and bag from the entrance table and closed the door behind her. Nico didn’t say a word, but his eyes smoldered. She swallowed, then, knowing it was now or never, she headed for his car.

In the ten feet to the passenger side, he overtook her and held open the door.

Careful to avoid touching him in case she set off another sexual showdown, Beth slid into the seat then watched him walk around to the driver’s side, mesmerized.

He moved with such a casual confidence, as if he was so sure of his place in the world. Yet, what would happen when she revealed the secret she held? He could lose that place, lose everything he held dear.

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. In some ways she wished she never had to tell him at all. He was the only man she’d ever loved. He meant too much to her to be unaffected by his pain. At least by waiting until his father passed away, she was saving him from heartache on that score … but only if she made no slips between now and then, and not let herself forget the stakes for even one moment. She had to ignore the fact she desired him like no other and keep her distance, stay out of his bed.

As he took his seat, he raised an eyebrow at her. “I told you to be careful about looking at me like that.”

She dropped her gaze to her lap, trying to bring her emotions under control. Five years ago, she’d shared her every thought, her every emotion with him, but now was the time for self-discipline. If she let herself fall under his thrall again, she might ruin everything.… One lapse when she wasn’t thinking straight, one careless comment about things that couldn’t be spoken, and he’d know there was more. And he wouldn’t rest until he knew everything.

He started the Alfa and pulled onto the private road around the vineyards. They traveled in silence for several minutes before he causally said, “Tell me about Mark.”

The air leeched from her lungs. Did he know? His eyes remained on the road, as if he hadn’t asked a loaded question.

“Why would you want to know about my son … Kent’s son?”

He spared her a hard glance. “Regardless of my feelings about his parents, that boy is my nephew. There’s nothing more important than family.” He squared his shoulders.

“Nico—”

“Tell me about Mark.”

Her hand snaked up to circle her throat. “He turned three last April.” Luckily, she’d remembered to lower his age by a year to maintain Kent’s story, and keep the secret of Marco’s paternity safe for now. “He’s bright and full of energy. He loves my parents’ Dalmatian, Misty—I suspect he’s conned them into letting Misty sleep on his bed tonight. He usually does.”

“Why doesn’t he have his own dog?”

She owed Kent no loyalty, but she wouldn’t speak ill of the dead. “It hasn’t been … suitable for us to have a dog yet.”

Nico’s jaw tightened. “Kent wouldn’t let him.”

She shrugged. “Kent didn’t like dogs much.”

“Every boy should have a dog.” He smoothly took a corner, then glanced over at her. “I noticed something strange at your house today.”

Dear God, the trip from her house to the winery on the other side of the estate had never seemed so long. “You did?”

His fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel and a frown line appeared between his brows. “There wasn’t one photo on display of your son. I know Kent wouldn’t send photos to our father, but none in your own home? That strikes me as odd for a woman who had albums full of us when we were together. And albums more of family—and your dog.”

Her stomach clenched painfully. She’d rushed around and taken down all photos of Marco when she’d arrived home from Nico’s hotel room. She knew chances were high he’d follow her—he always had when they had fought. He’d never let anything between them remain unfinished. Now she suspected he’d always follow, because he had to win. And the only way to protect Marco from this mess was to keep him hidden—in reality and in photos—until all secrets were out.

Kent had been careful that Nico or his father had never seen a photo of Marco. The seemingly petty denial had been the last straw leading to the complete breakdown of his relationship with Tim Jordan—but completely necessary for Kent’s twisted plans of blackmail.

She clasped her hands together in her lap until her knuckles went white. Just a weekend. Nico would be gone soon, and in a year or so all secrets would be out in the open.

For now, she needed an excuse. “I’ve taken them down and sent them away to have duplicates made for my parents.”

“How thoughtful. I’m sure my father will appreciate his copies when they arrive.” His voice was tight with leashed emotion. “It’s broken his heart to never meet or even see a photo of his only grandson.”

“Of course.” She closed her eyes for a moment, silently cursing herself for not thinking of a better excuse. Naturally his father would want one—as would Nico. And then everyone’s lives would explode.…

Nico pulled into the driveway of the winery, and braked in front of the familiar and beautiful sandstone building now lit up with thousands of fairy lights for the launch.

Uniformed attendants opened their doors before one took the keys from Nico and drove the Alfa away. Nico’s arm came around her waist. “Shall we?”

She wanted to melt into his warmth and solidity but that would be a bad idea at the best of times. Here, at a dinner to honor Kent’s life, it was the worst of times. “I don’t think you should touch me here, tonight.”

He stiffened, and didn’t remove his arm. “You belong to Kent here, is that your point?”

“It’s not a matter of belonging to anyone. It’s a matter of propriety. Of respect for the dead. Respect for your brother.”

“Respect for my brother,” he murmured, his eyes unreadable. Without warning, he swooped down and gave her one brief, hard kiss. It was over before she had time to react, but she knew exactly what it meant—he’d just reminded her that Kent was gone … and Nico was here.

She stood motionless, a little dazed, and glad now for the support of his arm at her waist as her body clamored for more—more of the kiss, more Nico.

Then he released her, stood back and swept a hand toward the entrance. “After you.”

She walked in on unsteady legs, a little in front of him, and though she only looked forward, her whole attention remained riveted on the man behind her, as he’d no doubt intended. The kiss might have been devoid of emotion, but her entire body had reacted to the touch of his lips. Was still reacting, from the warmth rising under her skin, to her aching breasts.

But through her physical reaction, she had the worst feeling regarding the way he’d repeated her words about respecting Kent—he’d taken it as a challenge. What he’d do about it was anyone’s guess, it was hard to know anything with this new Nico—he wasn’t the openhearted, giving and impulsive boy she’d once loved. He’d become a rich, handsome, cold enigma.

One she was still finding difficult to resist, and more so by the hour.

As she stepped through the door to the function room already filled with guests, a huge display caught her eye. A photo of Kent dominated the room, twice as big as life-size. An assortment of flowers sat in baskets at its base, and tributes to his life and achievements lined the wall.

On the other side of the room was the publicity for the new white wine, Trio, a blend of three grape varieties. Arrangements of olive green bottles covered the tables and a banner of the blend’s label was strung across the room.

The strains of modern classical music filled the air and open fires blazed in the six fireplaces built into the walls. The crowd was broken into small clusters of people, their conversations more subdued than at other launches she’d attended, but given the circumstances, she supposed that was to be expected. Nico had joined a group of three men in tuxedos on the other side of the gathering, but she knew he watched her from the corner of his eye. She felt it.

She looked back to the tribute to her late husband. The man who’d made her life a misery.

Noela, Kent’s former secretary, glided across from a group nearby and grasped Beth’s hands, offering a sympathetic smile. “We’re so pleased you could make it tonight, Mrs. Jordan.”

Grateful for the friendly greeting—a greeting without the hidden meaning Nico’s words often took—Beth returned the smile. “Thank you, Noela.”

“We asked Mr. Jordan if he’d like to say a few words about his brother, and he’s kindly agreed. I know you’re probably not up to it, but if you’d like, then you’d be more than welcome to speak, as well.”

Beth’s mouth went dry. “Speak?”

“About your husband.” Noela squeezed her hands. “Only if you want to.”

“Um, no—” Beth swallowed hard “—I don’t think I could.” She was having enough trouble keeping her secrets from Nico without having to convince a whole roomful of people that she was grieving for Kent.

“That’s understandable, I knew it would be too soon. I’ll just go and get everyone together for Mr. Jordan.” After one final squeeze of her hands, Noela slipped away.

Beth’s stomach twisted as she watched Noela pass through the crowd, pointing toward a podium at the front of the room, guiding people across. What would Nico say to these people about a brother who had tormented him his whole life? It was hard to imagine why he’d even agreed to speak—he could only have been thinking of Jordan Wines and keeping up appearances.

Her eyes sought Nico through the people milling about and found him near the podium, talking to Andrew, the acting winemaker. At that moment, Nico looked up, met her gaze and arched an eyebrow. Her pulse stuttered. He was planning something.

Noela took the podium and waited until the mur-murings of the crowd died down. “Thank you all for coming tonight. As you’ll be aware, we’re not only launching our latest wine blend, Trio, but we’re paying tribute to the blend’s creator, Kent Jordan, who passed away recently. Kent’s brother Nico Jordan has flown out from Australia, and has generously offered to share some memories of his brother with us tonight.”

Polite clapping rippled through the crowd as Nico walked the short distance to the podium, his face appropriately somber.

He looked around the crowd, taking them in, nodding as he acknowledged their support. Then he found her, blinked slowly, and held her gaze as he began speaking. “On behalf of Kent’s family, I’m touched that you’ve come here tonight to show your respect for my brother.”

Beth froze. He’d opened his remarks with her phrase about respecting his brother. He was planning something. She folded her arms tightly under her breasts, hoping against hope he would behave decently.

“Losing Kent has been a tragedy to our family,” his deep voice rumbled across the room, “made worse by our father being too sick to travel to the funeral. Since I stayed with him to offer comfort in his grief, I’m glad for the opportunity tonight to say a few words about a brother unlike any other.”

Nico turned, making connections with people in the audience—a consummate public speaker. But she knew he was speaking to her tonight. She dragged in a breath, held it, on edge about what was to come.

“Kent was a formidable force, a man who always achieved his goals, letting nobody and nothing stand in his way. He pursued his beautiful wife with that same sense of purpose, not being deterred until he had his ring on her finger.” His gaze speared hers and she almost swayed on her feet with the shock. She knew he’d planned something, but he’d dared to reference the way she’d left him? Sheer force of will made her stand taller and meet his gaze without flinching. Even though no one else would understand his meaning, it still galled her that he’d be so bold.

Nico continued in the same deceptively solemn tone. “It’s tragic that such a young and strong marriage has been severed.” Eyes from around the room turned to her, and she met some of them, accepting their sympathy, concealing the rising tension in her body.

“In fact,” Nico said, eyes not leaving her, “I don’t feel I can properly pay tribute to my brother without his beautiful wife here with me. Beth, if you wouldn’t mind?” He held out a hand to her and the entire room turned, offering encouraging smiles, propelling her forward.

Her heart raced double-time, her hands were damp, but there was nothing she could do—short of rudeness—to avoid joining Nico at the podium.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, finding the composure she’d need, then the crowd parted for her and she walked to the front of the room. When she reached him, he pulled her close, placing a brotherly arm around her shoulders, but his eyes were full of the devil.

“Nico, please—” she whispered but he turned back to the crowd, some of whom were discreetly wiping away tears at the beauty and the heartbreak of the scene before them.

“The depths of emotion that Kent’s dear wife and I share right now can’t be put into words.” His hand moved from her shoulder to her neck, a kind, comforting move … except for the thumb that moved in sensual circles at the nape of her neck, hidden from the crowd, but sending shivers across her skin.

“Kent’s death was a shock for all his friends and family. And for those of us left behind, for my father, Mark, Beth and me—” he turned and looked into her eyes as he spoke “—all I can say is that at a time like this, at least we have each other.” He pulled her into a hug and the audience clapped their approval.

The embrace launched a flood of sensation in her body—her skin heated, her muscles quivered. This was so very different from the tender way he’d held her this morning—it was …more. More fervent. More intimate. More bone-melting.

And, it was lasting too long. An entire audience watched this embrace. She tried to discreetly push him away but he wouldn’t budge.

“Nico, stop it,” she said in his ear.

“But, my Beth, I’m enjoying it immensely,” he murmured. “Why would I stop?”

But he released her and, still grasping her hand, led her away to another sympathetic round of applause from their well-wishers.

As soon as they’d cleared the main crowd, she whirled on him. “How could you?” she whispered fiercely.

“How could I what?” he said, low, as he nodded to a man across the room. “The winery wanted a touching scene and I gave them one. It’ll be good PR for Trio.”

“You know what I’m talking about.” She narrowed her eyes. “I hope you’re satisfied with the show you put on.”

One corner of his sensual mouth kicked up into a grin. “Actually, I’m not satisfied. Yet.” He dug his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, all cool unconcern. “I’ve had enough of the business talk and the homage to my half brother. One drink and we’re leaving.”

Leaving? They’d barely been here half an hour. She kicked up her chin a fraction and stood still. “I can’t leave. This is to honor my husband. People are mourning here. I should be seen to be mourning.”

Nico stopped beside her, his eyes narrowed, seeing more than she wanted him to. “But you’re not, are you, Beth?” He smiled, smug at his realization. “There are no secrets between you and me—you had no love for him, never did.”

She looked around. Too many people would be eager to hear this and make something of it. “Not here, Nico.”

“Not here? You think this is going too far?” He moved closer, his eyes on her face. “Oh, bella, I could do much worse than this.”

Her body yearned to move that last few inches and lean into him, ached to be held. But it couldn’t happen, especially not here. “You said your speech would help the PR for Trio. If you create a scene, it’ll undermine that.”

He shrugged one shoulder, a casual, dismissive gesture. “You misunderstand the nature of publicity. If I hadn’t said anything up there, it would have been disappointing for the guests. People hate disappointment. But you and I creating a scene …” His voice was low, beguiling. “The kind that’s quiet, unobtrusive, but watched by every person in the room. Our guests would find that delicious and Trio would quickly become infamous.”

This was about making Jordan Wines’ guests happy? No, the predator in his eyes was too marked to miss. This was all about the two of them. About the simmering chemistry that was still between them despite how she fought it. She swallowed hard and took a small step back. “They won’t have anything to watch if I walk away.”

His hands snaked out and captured one of hers, holding it platonically between them, a concerned brother-in-law comforting the bereaved. But the heat of his palms made her skin sizzle, and sparks danced up her arm before heading to her core.

And he knew, damn him. The corner of his lips curved ever so slightly, relishing his victory. Though she was pleased to see he wasn’t unaffected himself—the pulse at the base of his throat beat strongly.

He began a discreet sensual massage of her palm, her fingertips. “All I’d have to do is reach over and run one finger down your cheek, and I could have you in my arms. You still react to me, I saw that today.”

Beth shivered. She couldn’t let that happen. She disengaged her hand and took another small step back. “This night should be as sacred as a wake.”

He glanced around the room. “I’m not sure if anyone here is mourning Kent—his nasty streak wasn’t saved just for me. It ensured he never earned much respect or popularity.”

“Be that as it may, this is still wrong.” She turned and walked across the room needing as much distance from Nico as she could get. Because he’d hit the nail on the head—she still reacted to him. And that was a luxury she couldn’t afford when she needed to hold secrets close to her chest for everyone’s sakes.

As she took a proffered glass of wine from a waiter, Noela appeared at her side. “I wanted to check if you’re all right.”

Beth plastered a smile on her face. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Noela leaned in, concern in her features. “You seemed very affected on the stage. I hope we haven’t pushed you beyond endurance.”

Beth held back a grimace and looked over at the back of Nico’s head as he charmed a group of staff on the other side of the room. Noela and the winery weren’t the ones pushing her limits tonight. That distinction went to the man whose broad shoulders looked like pure sin in his tuxedo. “I really am okay,” she assured Noela.

After Noela left, she was quickly replaced by a stream of people offering their condolences and marveling at her strength in attending tonight. After twenty minutes, Beth was suffocating. She excused herself and walked out to the terrace, sipped her wine and looked over the moonlit vineyard. Below the distant twinkling lights of the town were rows and rows of bare vines. There was something comforting about the order of it, the neatness and … rhythm. She took a deep breath of the brisk night air and leaned the cool glass against her flushed forehead, glad for the respite from people, noise and the expectation of conversation.

“It’s a striking view.” The voice from the shadows was low and smooth and achingly familiar.

Beth wrenched around. At the end of the balcony, obscured by the dark, was a faint shape. If she hadn’t heard the voice, she wouldn’t have known for sure if someone was there.

But there was.

Nico.

Her heart tripped over itself as she nonchalantly leaned a hip on the stone balustrade that edged the terrace, facing him. “You’ve spent your whole life around vineyards and wineries. I’m amazed you still see past the hard work to the beauty.”

“There’s not much that’s more beautiful than a fertile, lush grapevine.” He paused and she heard the sound of a glass being deposited on the stone tiles. “Except perhaps a beautiful, lush woman.”

Now her eyes had adjusted to the blanket of darkness, she could faintly discern his outline. He sat on the wide balustrade, his back to the view. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one else was watching before taking one step closer, flirting with danger. There was something about Nico being hidden in the dark that seemed deceptively safe. A dangerous illusion, she knew, and yet she took another step forward.

Simulating a casual pose, she swirled the wine in her glass. “I expected you’d be inside, working the room.”

“They don’t need me for that. I made the speech, the winemaker and other staff can take care of the rest.”

She remembered the few events she’d attended with him years ago where he’d been happy to let others get the most attention. “You don’t like the limelight, do you, Nico?”

“Come down here and I’ll tell you the answer.” It was the voice of Lucifer, tempting her with the apple.

“No,” she said simply and sipped her wine. She’d come far enough.

“I think you will.” She could hear a smile in his voice and it sent a frisson of heat across her skin.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you don’t want to go back inside.”

That was true. As much as she wanted to avoid another scene with Nico here at Kent’s tribute, she wanted to go back into that crowd even less. She cast another look around—this was technically a public place, so nothing improper could happen. It had the added benefit of having no audience—he might have put on a show earlier, but he had no spectators for his wordplay out here. A public place that had no audience—it might seem like a contradiction, but it served as the best protection she could ask for tonight.

She moved down, to within a few feet of him. “Tell me about the limelight.”

“Closer.”

Even this close, she couldn’t see him clearly in the blackness.

“I think here is just fine.” She wrapped her free arm around her middle and lifted the wine to her lips, taking the last sip.

“For now,” he conceded and she could see the moonlight glint on his teeth as he smiled. “I don’t seek limelight the way Kent did. I don’t hate it, either. I don’t have strong feelings about it one way or another.”

“If you don’t hate it, why not stay inside tonight and make use of it for Jordan Wines?”

He held out his hand for her empty glass and placed it beside his. “I had something on my mind and wanted space.”

“Kent?” she whispered.

His eyes were strangely reflective, the predator that had lurked there earlier absent. “You.”

He reached out and snagged her hand, dragging her closer, until she stood in the vee made by his thighs. A rush of heat pooled low in her belly, goose bumps erupted across her skin.

Head cocked to the side, he looked up into her eyes, his expression pensive. “Why are you on my mind so much?”

Their gazes held for an eternity and her breathing quickened. There was an honesty in his eyes that reached out to her heart, as if in the darkness of the balcony, the world could disappear and leave them cocooned in shadows. It was that dangerous illusion at work again.

Attempting to break the spell, Beth casually shrugged a shoulder. “Because you’re here in New Zealand to see me.”

“Not just now,” he said quietly. “Always.”

How she wanted to believe it was because he’d never stopped loving her, but if that had been true, he’d have come for her. Would have at least checked on her after Kent took her out of the country. It was a senseless fantasy she’d only let herself have on dark, lonely nights—she knew if he’d come for her, her sacrifice would have been for nothing. It was far better that he’d stopped loving her when she left.

So instead she smiled and offered the only plausible reason. “Probably because I’m the only woman to walk away from you.”

His mouth hooked up at one corner. “Maybe.”

He laced his fingers in hers and tugged her closer still, into the circle of heat that surrounded his body. A shiver raced over her skin, as if her flesh recognized his was close.

“Nico, what was between us is long over,” she said, knowing it was to convince herself as much as him.

“Really?” he asked lazily, and abruptly the reflective mood morphed into an electric simmer.

Beth began to step away, but he held her hands firm. “If it’s over,” he said, “why are you standing here in the dark with me?”

She could smell his clean scent, wanted to bury her face in his strong neck, but kept her voice even. “Because we were talking.”

“Would you be standing this close to any of the men inside if you were talking to them?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Would you let them do this?” He encircled her in his arms and brought her flush against his seated body, his chest against her stomach, his face in line with her breasts. Her breath caught at the hard, erotic feel of his erection pressing against her thigh.

“I’d say no, probably slap them.” Her eyes drifted closed.

A hand crept up the back of her neck and brought her head down. “Tell me no,” he said against her lips.

“No,” she said and kissed him.

He tasted of wine and Nico and she couldn’t get anywhere near enough. For one perfect moment, she was back five years ago, kissing the boy she loved on her back porch. Then he growled and nipped on her bottom lip, and she was jolted back to the present. Kissing this dangerous Nico was a new experience, in some ways more darkly alluring. She threaded her fingers through his hair, and he arched his neck back further to deepen the kiss.

She leaned into him, over him, resting most of her weight on his broad chest as she looked down into eyes as dark as the night that hid them. A shiver ran down her spine when he broke the kiss and watched her for a beat.

“Nico,” she whispered, but wasn’t sure if she said it aloud or if it was only in her head.

He kissed down her neck, pressed his tongue into the pulse point at the base of her throat, arms still holding her tightly to him, thighs closing to hold her in place. Trying to regain her breath, Beth looked out over the top of his rumpled hair to the distant lights of the town. They looked like a fairy tale. She looked down at Nico trailing moist kisses along her dé colletage—if she was in a fairy tale, this was not the prince. The Beast, perhaps.

Gently, he slid one of the sheer sleeves down her shoulder, his lips following the path he created until he reached the top of her breast. He paused and laid his cheek against her, breathing heavily.

“Beth,” he groaned, then arched his head back. She could no more resist the invitation than she could stop breathing; she leaned down and met his mouth, kissed him again, pressed her length as close to him as she could.

Voices near the terrace door sharply interrupted the haze she’d slipped into. They both froze as two women walked through the door. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “They won’t see us.”

“Oh, I know!” said a woman in a tight-fitting red sheath. “I just about cried when he hugged her up there. After all she’s been through, I’m glad someone is looking out for her.”

Beth felt Nico’s grin against her cheek and now she did feel like slapping him.

“I wouldn’t mind him looking out for me,” a second woman replied in a high voice. “He is seriously gorgeous.”

Beth felt a hot, moist tongue run along the arc of her ear before Nico sucked her earlobe into his mouth. Her knees wobbled but he held her firm.

“Isn’t he ever?” Red Sheath said. “I’d buy as many bottles of wine as he told me to. They should have him on the label.”

The joint sensation of gentle tugging on her earlobe and Nico’s warm breath in her ear was as bone melting as the kiss had been. Beth absentmindedly thought that the women at the door had no inkling of just how sexy this man really was.

“Look,” the second woman said, “there’s John Willis standing on his own. I’ve been dying for an introduction to him, come and talk me up.”

The voices faded as the women rejoined the party.

Beth squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. She knew she should leave too or she’d end up doing much worse than making out on the darkened terrace. This time enveloped in the shadows was like a fairy tale. It wasn’t real.

She pulled her sleeve back onto her shoulder. “I need to go back inside.”

“I need you here,” he said, voice rough, sending her pulse racing again.

Nothing in the world could be more appealing than Nico in a tuxedo, hair rumpled from her fingers, telling her that he needed her. But she couldn’t stay.

She pulled together all the self-will she could muster to resist him. “Nico—”

“Okay, you’re right.” His eyes were as full of the devil as they had been at the podium. “Let’s go back.”

He stood and straightened his tuxedo, finger-combed his hair.

Wary of his swift about-face, Beth took a step away, but couldn’t afford to waste the opportunity for a scandal-free end to this tryst. “I’ll go first,” she said, adjusting her dress and feeling around her mouth for smeared lipstick.

Nico wrapped an arm tightly around her waist. “We’ll go in together.”

Before she could protest, he led her to the large doors and over the threshold, into the edge of the crowd. He was all confidence and composure while she struggled to catch up with the abrupt change of both mood and scenery. One moment she’d been kissed senseless by Lucifer himself, the next she was again in the middle of her husband’s wake.

He grabbed two glasses of Trio from a passing waiter and handed one to her, letting his fingers linger on hers a second too long. “As I said, one drink then we’re leaving—feel free to mingle while you have it. I’ll be back for you. Soon.”

The heat in his eyes as he turned and walked away was unmistakable. He intended to seduce her, to make love to her, tonight. Her skin quivered and tightened, her belly felt heavy with desire still simmering from his kiss on the terrace moments ago.

Although, she corrected herself, lovemaking wasn’t a part of his plans. He had sexual plans for her, yes, but they’d be fuelled by lust and passion alone. Not love.

And, shockingly, even knowing that was no protection. Fighting her attraction for Nico was as futile as it had ever been.

But … what if she gave in? Stopped fighting the inevitable? If she went to his bed, it would all be over by tomorrow. He’d leave never knowing the truth about Marco, about the blackmail … and she’d have one more memory of him to cherish.

Yes, her body whispered. Do it.

Under her clothes, her naked skin felt the caress of the soft fabric of her gown; the tips of her sensitized breasts strained against the bra cupping them. Every step she took, every movement, became part of a sensual dance.

She spoke to several winery and vineyard workers, sipping her wine as she mingled. Then called Andrew the acting winemaker over. “I’m so sorry, but I have a headache—it feels like a migraine coming on. I need to go home.”

His face was a picture of concern, causing a ball of guilt to form in her stomach. “Of course—it’s too soon. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. As I’ve said before, anything we can do for you, let me know.”

“Thank you, you’re too kind.” Her voice cracked with the force of her desire—she could feel Nico behind her, waiting. Fortunately, people would assume it was raw grief. No one could see what she was thinking, what she was about to do.…

“May I call a taxi for you?”

She offered a small smile of thanks. “No need. My brother-in-law is here, I’ll ask him to take me home. Please tell the other guests I wasn’t feeling well?”

“Certainly.”

She walked back to Nico and looked him calmly in the eye, determined not to give away how fast her heart pounded, not to anyone in the room—including him. “I’m ready to go.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised. His eyes searched her face again, and she felt the heat flash right through her. She knew what she wanted, and he knew she wasn’t fighting it anymore.

Finally, he nodded. “Good.” He took her hand and tucked it into his elbow, marking her as his—if only for tonight—as he walked her from the memorial of her husband.

Taking her to his bed.