Читать книгу The Saxon Brides - Tessa Radley - Страница 12

A little awkwardness from her emotional meltdown still lingered when Alyssa entered the sunny glass-walled breakfast room later that morning. But she gradually relaxed once she realised the room was empty until Joshua strolled in from the kitchen.

“Oh, you startled me.” Her heart started to race and not only from the shock of his sudden appearance. He looked utterly, heart-wrenchingly gorgeous. He’d changed. A black shirt and blue jeans replaced the sweats. The lambswool sweater that had been so soft against her skin earlier was gone.

“Where is everyone?” Her voice was annoyingly breathless as she fixed her attention on his face.

“Working. We rise early. No city hours at Saxon’s Folly.” His eyes scanned her, making her aware of how out of place her boutique-chic, pin-striped pantsuit and suede shoes must seem. At once she wished she’d worn the jeans she’d bought yesterday morning.

Today’s early-morning encounter with Joshua had put her on the defensive, forcing her to don corporate armour to withstand the devastating effect he had on her. Off balance, she said with a touch of acerbity, “Oh, then what are you still doing here?”

The beautiful bone structure tightened, and his mouth firmed into a sculpted line and all affability vanished.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” There was not an ounce of gentleness in his narrow-eyed inspection.

“Why?” she asked baldly, tensing for a confrontation.

“Have you forgotten? You’re accompanying me today. So eat up, I need to get moving.”

She had forgotten all about it. Her brain had been short-circuited by the nightmare, then jolted by the siren. The crying jag and Joshua’s show of sympathy had only deepened her turmoil. She met that granite gaze. “I don’t need a guard dog.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

His way or hit the highway. His flinty eyes and the rocklike set to his jaw warned her that there would be no point in arguing. Not if she wanted to stay at Saxon’s Folly.

No hint of the gentle pre-dawn Joshua remained. She’d been duped into believing that he was empathetic. Nurturing. Safe.

Mistake.

This was the real Joshua Saxon. Too arrogant. Too sure of himself. Too darn everything.

But even knowing all that, she couldn’t stop the sensual awareness that prickled under his penetrating regard. What a pity her body was so out of sync with her brain about the kind of man that was good for her.

Alyssa helped herself to toast, scooped on homemade marmalade, and let out the breath she’d unconsciously been holding, “So, what are you going to show me today?” She tilted her head to one side. With Joshua, attack was probably the best line of defence. “More etchings?”

“I’m a pretty straightforward kind of guy. I say what I want. I don’t need those kind of ploys—if I wanted you, I’d tell you.” His grim smile held little humour.

So he didn’t want her anymore. Alyssa withered a little inside and bit into her toast. Discovering her identity had killed his interest. After a few minutes of eating in silence, wishing she’d resisted the temptation to provoke him with the etchings dig, Alyssa followed him out to the Range Rover.

He took her to the vineyards first. “The vines are the heart of Saxon’s Folly.” Leaping down from the vehicle, he opened the passenger door for her to alight, then bent and picked up a handful of red soil and let it trickle through his fingers. “And this is the lifeblood.”

Some hidden place deep within her responded to the passion in his voice. Standing a little distance from him, she fought it as she’d fought the hold he wielded over her senses. But she suspected this ability that Joshua Saxon possessed to get under her defences, deep into the heart of her, was more dangerous than the way her body responded so wantonly to his.

What was it about this man?

She examined him. Sure, he was tall, dark and dangerously gorgeous. But she’d never been one for looks alone. And, yes, the slanting morning sun struck his almost-perfect features giving his skin a rich, golden glow as he dusted his hands off. But it wasn’t that alone that made her heart leap.

“This block was originally planted in 1916. Strange to think about it, isn’t it?” He glanced at her. “Men from Napier, a few miles away were going off to fight in Europe during the Great War, and here, on this piece of land a world away from the war, a dozen Spanish monks planted vines. Even during times of death, life must go on.”

And just like that he held her captive. Alyssa knew Joshua was talking about more than the vines that he touched with careful fingers. He was talking about Roland. About grief. About life continuing on the other side.

She resented him for it. Resented him bitterly for this uncanny ability to get through to her on the most elemental level, to hold her in his thrall.

In an attempt to break the sudden tension that snapped like a pulled string between them, she said, “What cultivar is that?”

“The monks thought they were planting Cabernet Sauvignon. Only years later when the grapes were ready to harvest did they discover their mistake. They’re Cabernet Franc. Too late then to pull them out. They made their wine.”

She assessed him. The way his Driza-Bone hat tipped over his forehead, the way he stood with his legs planted hip-width apart on the soil. Master of all he surveyed. “You love it out here, don’t you?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Pleasure lit up his eyes. A flash of white teeth transformed his face into breathtaking sexiness. Her stomach dropped as desire swept her. “Before Dad decided he wanted to step down as CEO of Saxon’s Folly, I managed the vineyards. I never wanted to make the wine. I wanted to grow the fruit that winemakers like Heath and Caitlyn so magically transform into a nectar fit for the ancient gods.”

The sheer beauty of the picture he painted touched Alyssa on a primal level. Here was a man with roots, who knew who he was. A man so solid, so confident in his own skin that she couldn’t help but admire him … and want him.

Alyssa suppressed the yearning. She couldn’t afford the distraction that Joshua presented. Drawing a shuddering breath, she said, “So you miss it?”

He nodded. “I still keep an eye on the vineyards. But I’ve appointed two vineyard managers. One here, and one for the blocks over at Gimblett’s Gravels where most of the grapes for our reds are grown.”

After an instant of hesitation, she asked daringly, “Do you miss having Heath to work with since he walked out?”

A frenetic buzz caused Alyssa to pull a vibrating cell phone out of her handbag. She glanced at the caller ID. David. She killed the call.

“Sorry.” She smiled sunnily at Joshua. “You were about to say?”

His face expressionless, he said, “That last question sounded a little too much like an inquisition. Alyssa Blake in journalist mode. You should’ve taken your call.”

Heavens, he was perceptive. Thank goodness he had no idea who had been calling. “I’ll ring back later.” Changing the subject, Alyssa gestured to the rolling vineyards around them. “And how did all this end up in your family’s hands?”

“After the Great War the monks decided to move on. The land was sold. My Saxon forefather won it three years later in a poker game. The monks had planted vines for sacramental purposes—everyone laughed when Joseph Saxon said he was going to grow wine in commercial quantities. The land was barren, people told him. But he was determined to prove them wrong.” Joshua’s mouth slanted wryly. “Stubborn old bastard. The locals called it Saxon’s Folly. The name stuck.”

“So that’s who you get it from.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The name Saxon?”

She laughed appreciatively. “The stubbornness. The hard-nosed streak.”

He touched his nose. “Soft as butter.”

“Sure,” she said, smiling up at him. And warmth rose within her as he smiled back at her.

But Alyssa was no longer smiling when, back in her bedroom, she managed to sneak a call back to her editor later that afternoon.

“I’ve been hearing things about Saxon’s Folly … rumbles in the jungle,” David said without preamble. “Let me see what more I can find out. I’ll get back to you to see if there’s enough for a story.”

A story about Saxon’s Folly?

Alyssa’s heart sank. “I haven’t heard anything … and I don’t want to do a story now. Isn’t there anyone else available?” She was no longer certain she could guarantee an impartial perspective. “I’m on leave, David.”

“Maybe you won’t need to use up your leave,” he said cryptically. “I’ll call you once I know more. And don’t forget to send that obituary through by tomorrow.”

Alyssa killed the phone. Oh, heavens, Joshua would have conniptions if he discovered David was considering assigning her a story about his precious vineyard and family. It would be best to say nothing. After all, David’s rumbles might turn out to be nothing more than unsubstantiated rumours.

With that conclusion, Alyssa’s step lightened. For now, she would put it out of her mind and concentrate on learning about her brother’s life for her own satisfaction. Nothing more.

“Jump in,” Joshua called to Alyssa late the following afternoon as he throttled back the engine of the Range Rover and drew up behind her.

A quick hello and she clambered into the cab, slinging her handbag at her feet. His rapid sideways glance showed long, feminine legs encased in dark blue denim and a purple T-shirt moulding curves that caused his chest to constrict and heat to shoot downward.

He forced his gaze away from her. “My meeting was unavoidable.” His voice was suddenly husky. He cleared his throat. “What have you been doing?” Better, Joshua decided.

“Nothing much.” Alyssa paused, pulling a notebook and pencil from her bag. “After you left I took a walk around the winery—Caitlyn kindly showed me around.”

Joshua relaxed a fraction. He’d been uneasy about leaving Alyssa alone, uncertain what mischief she might wreak left untended. But he’d had no choice. Work came first. He risked another glance at her. Her hair was blowing around her face and her rosy lips tilted up.

Another surge of lust hit him. Shaken by the force of it, he tightened his fists around the steering wheel and focused on the track leading up the hill ahead.

“That’s all?”

“And your mother showed me some family photo albums and told me about the stories behind Roland’s trophies.” The words sounded torn from her.

All feeling of relaxation vanished. He shot her a brooding look. “I don’t want you upsetting my mother.”

“I didn’t. I promise. She wanted to do it. I think she found it therapeutic.”

Was he overreacting? His innate distrust of the woman had him wanting to keep her in his view all the time. But his mother had invited Alyssa to stay at Saxon’s Folly. He could hardly forbid his mother to talk to a houseguest. It might even be good for her to talk about Roland to a stranger. God knows he wasn’t ready to talk about his brother yet. Certainly not to Alyssa.

They were climbing to the west, the sea behind them.

“Where are we going?” Alyssa broke the silence.

A sudden foreboding closed around Joshua. Perhaps this was not a good idea. “There’s something I want to show you over on the other side of The Divide.”

“The Divide?”

Joshua pointed through the windshield to where a winding pass cut into the hills ahead, which had they been higher might have earned the label of mountain range.

As they crested the summit of The Divide, he heard her breath catch. He flicked her a look and caught the entranced expression on her face.

Ahead of them lay a valley so beautiful it never failed to take his own breath away. But this time all his senses were focused on the woman seated beside him, a pencil gripped in her fist as she took in the vista of rolling hills, the wide plain, the river running through.

“So, what do you think?” Holding his breath, Joshua waited for her response.

“My God, it’s beautiful,” she said softly. “Too beautiful to describe in words.” She tapped her pencil against her shorthand notebook.

Joshua started to smile inwardly. Satisfaction spread through him. Maybe it hadn’t been a mistake to bring her here after all. “On a warm summer’s day this is the best place in the world. See that river?”

Alyssa nodded.

“Chosen Valley Vineyard—Heath’s home—lies on the other side. There are trout in the river. They lurk under the rocks. It takes time to coax them out.”

“What a lovely picture. It’s absolutely idyllic. Clearly you love it here and Heath must, too, otherwise he wouldn’t live here.” Alyssa fell silent for a moment. “What about Roland, did he love it, too?”

Joshua forced himself not to react to the way his brother’s name fell so easily from her lips. Yet he couldn’t stop the tension that settled between them, destroying the bond that had been forged in the last few minutes.

He gave a short laugh. “Roland didn’t have the patience to land a trout. He was drawn to dangerous sports, fast cars …” he cast her a derisive glance “… and equally fast women.”

She rose like one of the trout that lived in the stream to a particularly tempting lure. “You’re saying that I’m fast?”

Joshua pulled the vehicle off the road and turned his head. “Fast lane? Fast tracked for success? Maybe. When last did you take time to reflect a little? To go hiking? To stand on the edge of a hill and wait for the sunset?”

Then he turned his back on her wide eyes and silky hair and the womanly fragrance that tangled him up in knots. Swinging out of the driver’s seat, he slammed the door behind him, and walked to the road’s edge, his back to her, his hands on his hips.

He heard a door slam, heard her footsteps crossing the hard ground. She stopped behind him.

His every muscle went rigid.

“You’re right.” She sighed, a soft, breathy sound that only served to ratchet up the tension inside him. “I’ve been working so damn hard.”

“Why?” He stared blindly ahead, for once not seeing the beauty of the valley. “What drives you?”

“It’s so hard to explain.”

He swivelled to face her, his eyes searching her features. Her eyes were troubled, her mouth soft. “Try me.”

For a moment he thought Alyssa might refuse. Then she said, “I was raised an only child …” Her voice trailed away.

Raised an only child? That was a peculiar way to phrase it. Joshua let it pass. She was clearly unhappy about the subject matter. And waited.

Eventually she spoke and the words were so soft that he had to strain his ears before the wind carried them away. “I was brought up to excel. Special tutoring. Piano. Drama. Art. Tennis lessons.”

“Because you were an only child?” He eyed her profile. It would explain some of her hard edges, the ambition that drove her.

She didn’t answer immediately. “My parents thought of me as their protégée … their chosen child. Eventually all their expectations became my own. I was expected to become someone. Don’t think I was a cipher—I wanted that, too. For a long time I wanted success so much, even though my version was a little different from my parents’. My father was a judge and he wanted me to become a lawyer. It took a while for him to come to terms with my choice of career. I worked like a dog.”

“But you got your success.” Joshua couldn’t help wondering if some of her father had rubbed off on her. “Maybe you’re a chip off the old block after all.”

Her lips curved into a sad smile. “I was always a bit of a crusader. And my father made sure I had firm ideas about right and wrong from the time I was very young. Believe me, it’s not easy being a judge’s daughter. Especially when you’re a teen. You can never win.” Her eyes had regained a hint of sparkle. “But once I grew up, I realised he was right. The world needs people who stand up for what they believe in. For truth and honesty and all those old-fashioned values.”

Joshua decided that this was not the best moment to remind her that trying to break up his brother’s engagement was hardly honourable behaviour. But he didn’t want to see the desolation return to her eyes.

“At least my mother lived long enough to see me become an award-winning wine journalist,” Alyssa was saying. “A television personality instantly recognizable. But it cost me time I should have spent with her—though I never knew she was ill. Cancer,” she added as she read the question he didn’t ask.

“That would’ve been hard.” There was compassion in his eyes. “She must have been proud of you.”

“Oh, she was.”

“I’ve never thought of what it might be like being an only child. About the pressures that go with it,” Joshua mused, tilting his head to one side to study her. “We’ve shared all the responsibilities that go with Saxon’s Folly. My life would have been empty without Roland and Heath to fight with, without Megan always wanting her own way.”

“You’re lucky.” There was a wistful light in her eyes.

“Think so?” He gave a chuckle. “Sometimes I want to murder them. But I love them,” he added hurriedly when he saw the horrified expression on her face.

“Maybe I was too driven,” Alyssa conceded. “But that changed around three years ago.”

“When your mother died?”

Alyssa’s eyes were bleak. “I missed her.” Her gaze focused on him. Direct. Disconcerting. “I wanted siblings … a brother. More than anything in the world, I wanted a family.”

Maybe death did that to a person. He knew he would give anything to have Roland back. Pity for Alyssa stirred inside Joshua. Carefully he said, “I’m sorry that you lost your mother. Death is so final.”

Emotion flared in her eyes. “I grieved for her.”

“And your father?”

“He grieved, too. He remarried last year … He was lonely, I think.”

She turned her head and gestured to where the sun had sunk a little more. “Somewhere along the line, I stopped looking for sunsets.”

Joshua stood quietly beside her, staring out over the distant western hills at the orange-and-gold streaked sky as uneasiness filled him. He wished that her story had not moved him so much. He wished that the senseless attraction to her would cease.

He should have more sense than to want Alyssa Blake.

“You know, Joshua, I never thought that every splendid sunset means the death of another day—and that time is passing by at an alarming rate.” She looked up at him, her eyes a haunting purple that would seduce him if he let them. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe my life has become too fast.”

A long-waited sense of satisfaction curled inside him. The impulsive words escaped him before he could curb them. “I didn’t think I’d see the day that Alyssa Blake might admit that she was wrong.”

Her eyes narrowed, the purple depths no longer soft as they shot sparks at him. “You’re pretty fast, too. Vineyard manager of a sizeable estate. CEO of Saxon’s Folly. Mentor to a full staff. Architect of employment practices that business schools studied,” she reeled off his successes. “Are you any better? Saxon’s Folly is a big business. You’re the boss where the buck stops. Surely you’re driven to achieve? Surely you set goals?”

He should’ve know she’d come back fighting. “Touché. Sure I do. But I’m not obsessed by goals.”

“You’re implying that I am?”

He shrugged. “You know my philosophy. Here at Saxon’s Folly enjoyment is fundamental to the wines we make. How can people enjoy our wines, if the people who work with the wine don’t have fun making it?”

She shook her head dismissively. “That’s a pile of codswallop. I told you that back when you tried to sell me that line in the ten minutes you granted me for a Wine Watch interview.”

“I was busy. You caught me in the midst of the harvest with a bad forecast on the way.” He paused, not liking how defensive he sounded. “And I firmly believe that the happiness of the staff shows in the finished product.”

He could see her fighting to hold her tongue. She wanted to tell him that his concern and benevolence was nothing more than an act. He could see it in her blazing eyes.

Finally she said, “You didn’t strike me as the crusading type.”

His own anger was rising. “No, you preferred to view me as the type who could dismiss someone arbitrarily.”

Alyssa took up the challenge. “So why did you dismiss Tommy Smith? He maintained he was victimised, that you made his life a misery. That your ‘happiness’ philosophy was a sop.”

“You know that’s not true, you discovered he was dismissed from his next job only three months after I fired him. I know that the vineyard owner advised you.” He’d asked Michael Worth to let her know. Her low opinion of him had rankled. It still rankled.

“That was long after the story was published,” she protested. “And it was different. That time Tommy was dismissed for a sexual harassment of a fellow worker.”

“And you don’t think that I dismissed him for the same reason?”

Alyssa looked at him in horror. “That’s why you dismissed him? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The last thing the victim needed was the story spilled over the papers.”

“So who—”

But Joshua was shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not at liberty to say. Even off the record.”

Alyssa thought back to how dismissive she’d been of Joshua in the story she’d done, how she’d championed Tommy, the underdog. Her stomach rolled over. Had she misjudged Joshua … and Tommy … so badly?

Then her misgivings receded as he said with the arrogance that she’d come to associate with him, “Forget it. It’s over and done with.”

Any lingering liking for the man vanished.

A cool sea breeze swept over the hill they’d traversed. Alyssa shivered and rubbed her hands briskly up and down her arms, feeling her flesh prickling under the fingers of the wind.

“You’re cold. We should go.”

But Alyssa didn’t move. “I didn’t know that he’d harassed one of your staff. And by withholding that essential piece of information, how could I present your side of the story?”

His mouth curled. “I wasn’t prepared to break my word to someone who trusted me simply to satisfy your curiosity.”

Impasse. “But it cost you and Saxon’s Folly.”

He slanted her a cynical smile. “And lost Wine Watch any respect I’d previously held for the magazine.”

“And any respect you might have had for me.”

“Yes.”

Annoyance—and disappointment—surged within her as he confirmed his poor opinion of her. What had she expected? A denial? Maybe. So when had his opinion become so important? She tried to brush the hurt away with a flippant comment, “So you didn’t respect me the morning after the magazine hit the newsstands?”

The brightness of his eyes intensified. “That’s what you want? My respect in the morning?” There was a sudden simmering heaviness in the air that hadn’t been there a moment earlier.

“Joke,” she said hastily, “that was a joke.” And, as much as she craved his respect, the crack had not been appropriate. Alyssa could’ve bitten her tongue out. “My mouth runs away from me sometimes.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Funny, I had you pegged as calculating rather than impulsive. I have the impression that you think rather carefully about every word that comes out of that delectable mouth.”

And suddenly he was much too close. Blood rushed to her head, she could feel herself flushing. Alyssa tensed. Yet even as she pressed the lips he’d mockingly referred to as delectable tightly closed in annoyance, she experienced another betraying flare of heat.

Joshua’s expression didn’t change. But a muscle in his jaw tightened, the only warning she had. Alyssa didn’t move. His head lowered, slowly, his lips parting. She felt his breath against her mouth and a wave of desire ripped through her. His mouth claimed hers. For a moment he stilled and then his tongue entered her mouth, and Alyssa melted against him.

His body was big and warm and she no longer felt chilled. His arms came around her, pulling her against him. She was fervently conscious of the hardness of his chest beneath his shirt, of the flimsy cotton of her own shirt and her nipples tightening with excitement. So when his fingers slid into her hair, cradling her head, holding her exactly where it was comfortable, all her senses responded and he kissed her with deep intensity.

The tingle started under the touch of his fingers against her scalp and spread down her spine, along nerve pathways she hadn’t known existed, until Alyssa felt like every inch of her flesh was electrified.

He lifted his head. “You taste of peaches.”

Alyssa opened her eyes, stunned by the emotion that had exploded within her, and stared at him blankly. “Peaches?”

“Luscious and sweet like a fine Prosecco.” His mouth came down again before she could retort. She couldn’t help noticing he tasted of the wind, cool and wild with a hint of mint.

The kiss was thorough, his tongue exploring her mouth, the soft inner skin, the sleekness of her tongue until Alyssa felt that he’d overpowered her senses. She clung to his shoulders, not wanting it to end, not sure whether her legs would support her if he let her go.

When he finally raised his head, her breathing was ragged. He slid his hands down behind her back, linking them, supporting her, their lower limbs touching. Denim brushed against denim. Intimate. A whisper of sound that carried in the velvet silence of the evening.

Alyssa glanced up and found Joshua watching her.

“So, can you respect a woman who responds with such abandon to your kiss?” She tried to sound casual … dismissive … sophisticated. Instead her voice came out thin and thready.

“I respect the honest emotion I discovered,” he said throatily.

And her heart flipped over in her chest. Maybe he did want her. Maybe discovering her identity had not staunched the desire.

Even though he fought against it.

Right then Alyssa realised that Joshua was far more complex, far more dangerous to the yearning woman deep inside her, than she’d ever suspected.

That evening Alyssa was the last to arrive at the dinner table in the smaller dining room used for cosier family meals. Her first dinner with the family—last night she’d eaten on a tray in her room. Everyone had already settled in their seats, leaving only one chair empty. Roland’s. The place her brother had occupied for years.

Her chest tight, she sank down on the chair where her brother had eaten countless meals. Opposite her sat Joshua with his mother on his right side, and his sister, Megan, on his left. Phillip and Caitlyn Ross, the Saxon’s Folly winemaker, sat on either side of Alyssa.

“How was your day?” Caitlyn asked with a polite smile.

“It was fabulous,” she replied mechanically, and Joshua shot her a quizzical glance, his eyebrow raised.

Oh, heavens! He was thinking about their kiss. That had been more than fabulous. Earthmoving. Mind shattering. Nothing as mundane as fabulous. Not that she intended him to know any of that.

“I learned a lot,” she said lamely, then started to flush as his expression turned incredulous. So she quickly added, “Well, it’s so beautiful here.”

“Heaven on earth,” said Caitlyn.

Alyssa stilled.

Not heaven. Not with Roland gone.

But for the first time she managed to think of her brother without the wild grief and searing regret that had so shaken her. There was still sadness, but the anger and resentment at missing the opportunity to know him was receding and acceptance of his death was starting to settle in. In some peculiar way talking about her mother’s death to Joshua had helped.

“If you want to see something special, you need to get the boss to take you to the waterfall,” Caitlyn said, with a glance at Joshua. “The best way to get there is by horseback, to hike there takes forever. It’s a fantastic ride.”

“I haven’t ridden much.” Alyssa thought back to her childhood, when her adoptive mother had signed her up for two terms at pony club, but with all the other scheduled tuition, she’d never had the time to learn to ride well.

“You can ride Breeze, she’s very gentle,” said Megan.

“I don’t know …” Alyssa hesitated.

“Roland always loved it at the falls.” Kay entered the conversation. “He used to beg to go on picnics there as a child. As a teenager he loved to hang out there with friends.”

Alyssa started to pay attention. A place that Roland had loved? “Maybe I’ll consider it.” Perhaps there she would capture that spiritual closeness that she was seeking. Perhaps she’d finally lose the loneliness that lurked inside her.

“Did you know Roland?” Megan was staring at her with a puzzled frown.

Damn. Had she given away too much? Apprehension filled Alyssa. Her gaze shot to Kay, who had stilled at her daughter’s question. Then moved on to Joshua. His mouth was set in a hard line.

“Uh … no.”

The stuttered denial didn’t sound convincing to her own ears. And the force of Joshua’s glare told her that he was convinced she was lying.

But thankfully she appeared to have deflected Megan’s interest. Alyssa let out a silent sigh of relief. That had been far too close.

Kay turned hurriedly to Joshua. “Do you remember one night you terrified me by arriving back covered in blood? You and Roland had some sort of competition that I never quite got to the bottom of.”

Megan glanced from Joshua to her mother. Joshua’s mouth tightened. “Teen garbage,” he said dismissively.

“For a few years you all thought you were bulletproof.” Phillip spoke for the first time.

“We grew up,” Megan said quickly.

“Think carefully. You’ll be sore if you’re not used to riding—it’s a fair distance,” Joshua murmured as Ivy arrived to collect the dishes.

Looking at him, Alyssa realised that he didn’t look wild about the idea. “If you’re too busy, we don’t need to go.”

“I can probably find time to take you on Monday, the winery is closed to the public after the weekend, so it will be quieter.”

Had he offered Monday because he knew she was supposed to be back at work then? But if she stayed, that would give her an extra day at Saxon’s Folly. Despite his grumbling, David wouldn’t mind, she never took leave. And seeing a place that had been special to her brother would be worth a bit of extra stiffness.

“I’d probably survive.” She threw Joshua a quick smile, saw his double take and stopped smiling. “As long as I’m back in Auckland by evening. I’d like to do it—if you don’t mind taking me.”

There was a gap in the conversation. Then Caitlyn said, “I heard that you’ve decided against attending that European wine show, Megan.”

Megan glanced tellingly in her mother’s direction. “The timing was all wrong. I wanted to be here, with the family. There’ll be more shows next month, starting with the show in Paris.”

She’d stayed because of Roland’s death. Megan didn’t need to say it out loud. But her meaning was clear.

After a short pause, Caitlyn said with forced humour, “That should be fun. Those French vintners can be very charming.”

Megan’s lashes fell, hiding her eyes, but a small, secret smile curved her mouth revealing a dimple in her cheek. “Oh, I intend to have a lot of fun. I want to taste some of those deliciously sexy wines.”

“Frenchmen are supposed to be legendarily sexy, too,” Caitlyn responded.

“It’s the language,” Alyssa said. “Even though I don’t speak it, everything sounds so sexy in French.”

“Passez-moi votre verre de vin, s’il vous plaît.”

Everyone started to laugh as Alyssa stared at Joshua in bewilderment, until Megan took pity on her and said, “He asked for your wineglass.”

“No more for me, thanks,” Alyssa said, feeling warm and fuzzy inside at the good-humoured amusement on Joshua’s face, coupled with an intensity that made her heart melt.

At last he glanced away and the discussion moved onto Chardonnay, becoming increasingly technical—temperature and malolactic fermentation. Alyssa couldn’t help noticing how easy the relationship between Caitlyn and Joshua was. Had he ever dated the winemaker? It would be such a sensible relationship, the winery boss and the stellar winemaker, a marriage would truly cement the relationship. She couldn’t help wondering whether Joshua had ever considered keeping his winemaker happy forever.

The notion caused her a stab of something like discomfort … she didn’t want to label it anything as significant as envy. Or, even worse, jealousy.

On Saturday, David called Alyssa to tell her that the rumours were definitely buzzing and that Saxon’s Folly was in the thick of it all.

“It’s all about a Chardonnay that was entered in the Golden Harvest Wine Awards. One judge is muttering that what’s available in the shops, isn’t the same as the wine he tasted in the competition.”

“So what happens next?” Alyssa asked.

“They’ll give Joshua Saxon the option of withdrawing the wine before the scandal becomes public, I suspect. Although there is a rumour that an investigator has been appointed. But it’s all under wraps right now.” David was speaking quickly now. “See what you can find out, Alyssa.”

“Hey, I’m back in the office next week. Tuesday probably.”

“That gives you three days.” David didn’t say a word about the extra day she’d added on.

“I’m not doing this story, David. I’m on leave.” He was still trying to convince her when she ended the call. And the rest of the day passed in a lazy fashion.

The next morning when Kay broke the news that two of the casual workers—students who regularly helped on the weekend with the tastings and cellar door sales—hadn’t turned up on Sunday, Alyssa leapt into the fray.

Kay looked relieved. “Thank you, Alyssa. Joshua is there now, he’s pitching in, too. He’ll tell you what to do and give you price lists.”

The car park beside the winery was packed with vehicles glittering in the morning sun. Alyssa couldn’t believe the amount of visitors who came for the weekend tastings and tours.

Joshua looked harried. “At least with working for Wine Watch you’ll know how tasting works.”

“Don’t be so sure.” She gave him a teasing grin. Within minutes she’d settled next to him behind the counter, bottles of wine uncorked beside her, a list of wines with prices. Alyssa scanned the labels of the bottles in front of her out of interest. A Sauvignon Blanc, a Cabernet Merlot and a Semillon. And even a Chardonnay. Could this be the controversial vintage David wanted her to find out more about?

A brief lull followed.

“It’s been so busy,” said Joshua in disbelief, “now it’s gone all quiet.”

“Maybe I killed off all the customers,” Alyssa joked.

He shot her a dark look. “Maybe.”

“Hey, that was a joke.”

“It wasn’t funny.” But his lips curled into a smile inviting her to smile back.

“Why aren’t you married, Joshua?” That sounded so blunt. But it had been on her mind since Friday night when she’d seen how at ease he and Caitlyn were in each other’s company. “Or at least attached. You’re an attractive man—”

“Thank you.” He gave her a slow smile.

She felt herself flush. “Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a proposition. I’m—”

“In journalist mode?” This time the smile held an edge. “Don’t worry, I never did consider it a come-on.”

“What a relief,” she said, a little barb to keep him from realising how interested she, Alyssa the woman, not Alyssa the journalist, really was. “So are you going to answer?”

“Always the journalist,” he said, and the irony was not lost on her.

She didn’t respond.

Finally he sighed. “I’ve never found anyone that I want to spend my life with.” He gave her a crooked smile. “My parents set a tough example to follow. They met each other at a dance and knew from the first moment.”

“You expect the same?”

He gave her a strange look. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps their romance has grown in the telling.”

“They love each other. They always have. There’s never been anyone else for either of them—ever.”

Alyssa felt a moment of envy at his certainty. “I hope you find it—the once-in-a-lifetime love that you’re looking for.”

He shrugged. “I’m not looking for it. But if I find it, I’ll recognise it and embrace it. And in the meantime I’m not settling for second best.”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

He shrugged again. “Not really. I date. I’ve got friends—”

“And family.” Joshua had friends, he was highly respected, he ran a successful winery. Yet more than anything Alyssa coveted his family.

“Yes, my family is important to me.”

“And your staff …” She waved a hand around the tasting shed.

He nodded, his eyes softening. “Saxon’s Folly is more than a workplace, more than a winery. It’s home.”

“If you ever marry, your wife is going to have to love this place.”

“It’s in my blood,” he said with a simple acceptance that she envied.

“What about Caitlyn?”

He blinked at the sudden question. “What about her?”

“Have you ever dated her?”

“Caitlyn?” He gave a surprised laugh. “What makes you think that?”

“It seemed like such an obvious partnership. The winemaker and the winery boss.”

“I like Caitlyn. She’s smart—a great winemaker. But she’s always been one of the boys. There’s no chemistry.”

“One of the boys?” Caitlyn? Alyssa stared at him in astonishment. Was he blind to the other woman’s tall, slim strength? Granted, she wore jeans and boots and men’s shirts that gave her a tomboy look. But her light blue eyes, dusting of Celtic freckles and strawberry-blond hair had an undoubted charm even if her hair was always pulled back in a no-fuss ponytail and she wore no make up, but she hardly resembled a boy.

Men! Alyssa shook her head in disbelief, but she couldn’t prevent the relief that flowed through her that he’d never been attracted to the other woman.

Joshua leaned toward her. “Here come your first customers. Are you ready?”

She looked up to see three women and two men in their late twenties approaching. Alyssa gave them what she hoped was a welcoming smile and waved them onto the barstools in front of the counter.

“What would you like to taste?” She lined up five tasting glasses. One of the women and the two men chose the Cabernet Merlot, the other two women pondered indecisively. Alyssa poured the red wine into the three tasting glasses and watched as they picked up and swirled it around.

“I’ll try the Semillon,” said one of the two who had been undecided.

“Sav Blanc for me, please,” said the other.

“Black currants,” said one of the men, sniffing at the dregs of the red in his glass. “It smells of black currants.”

The others laughed. “I tasted red grapes,” said the blonde who had tasted the red.

“You wouldn’t be wrong to say black currants,” Joshua’s voice was low and serious.

“And I suppose the Sav tastes of grapefruit?” The woman with the Sauvignon Blanc gave him a flirtatious look from under her lashes.

Unaccountable annoyance rose within Alyssa. “The Saxon’s Folly Sauvignon Blancs are known for their stone fruit flavours.” She forced herself to smile blithely at the flirt.

“Stone fruit?” The woman gave her a blank look.

“Yes, peaches and nectarines.” Alyssa poured a little more wine in her glass.

“Can you tell the difference between a Sauvignon Blanc and a Chardonnay,” asked one of the men, giving her an interested look.

“Yes.” Alyssa took out two clean glasses and placed them before him. She poured a little Chardonnay in the one and a sample of Sauvignon Blanc in the other. “You’re looking for taste on the palate. The Chardonnay will have hints of oak—it’s been barrel fermented—not in the bottle. It’s also a little buttery, whereas the Sauvignon Blanc is fruitier. Have a taste of each.”

“Ooh, can I try, too?” one of the women asked.

“Sure.” Alyssa repeated the ritual for her.

“I taste a hint of peaches,” said the woman.

Joshua had said she tasted of peaches when he’d kissed her up on the hill. A tremor ran through Alyssa. She flashed him a sideways look from under her lashes—and found him gazing at her, his gaze hot, his eyelids heavy.

A flare of excitement ignited deep in her belly.

“The stone fruit flavours are very specific to this region, if you travel down to Marlborough, you’ll discover that the flavour’s grassy, reminiscent of gooseberries.” Joshua’s voice washed over her talking about fruit and flavours and she listened to the mesmerising cadence of his voice, words like peach and smooth and creamy creating a sensuous flow that surrounded her.

“Can you taste the differences between the same wines?”

“You mean, from different producers?”

The tall man nodded.

“That’s called horizontal tasting. So Saxon’s Folly makes Sauvignon Blanc, and over the hill at his winery my brother makes Sauvignon Blanc, too. They’re different. He’s a fine winemaker … but so is Caitlyn Ross our winemaker—”

“A woman makes wine here?” One of the men sounded shocked.

“Good wines, too.” Alyssa found herself bristling a little.

“Of course you’d say that, you work here.”

“Actually I’m a journalist—”

“Ooh, you’re doing a story? How exciting. Which newspaper?”

Alyssa told her the name of the magazine.

“I know you,” said the tall man. “You’re Alyssa Blake—you have a column in the Sunday papers, too. And I’ve seen you on television. So what do you think of the wines here?”

Alyssa gave him a smile, aware that Joshua was growing tense beside her, his hand tightening around the bottom of the wine bottle. Did he really believe that she would say something that might be detrimental to Saxon’s Folly?

“You taste and tell me what you think,” she responded, passing a glass to the man who had spoken. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Joshua’s grip had relaxed a little, his knuckles were no longer white.

“Make sure you get some photos of him—” the flirt pointed at Joshua “—I might even buy a copy of the magazine.” The woman batted her eyelashes in that way that Alyssa found intensely irritating. But she swallowed her annoyance and said nothing.

In the end the group walked away with a purchase of three cases of wine and Alyssa let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Hard work?” Joshua asked, a glimmer of laughter in his eyes.

“Let’s just say it’s not quite the easy sell I thought it would be.” She looked up at him. “So you can tell the difference between the wines you brew and those that Heath makes, hmm?”

He nodded.

“And I suppose you can tell the difference between different Saxon’s Folly vintages?”

“Piece of cake.”

“And then you try and tell me that the samples you supplied for judging in the Golden Harvest Wine Awards taste the same as the same label available for sale in the supermarkets?”

Joshua froze. “Trying to ambush me?” he asked very softly.

Alyssa refused to be intimidated. Joshua made a big deal about his reputation, about how honourable he was. She was entitled to know if that was the truth. What she wasn’t sure about yet was what she would do if she discovered it was all lies. She didn’t want to hurt Kay and Phillip Saxon—or their children. Not now. Not while they were grieving. And she couldn’t bear to find out that Joshua was dishonest.

It surprised her how much she needed to believe that he was as solid and real as the hills surrounding the vineyards he loved. She badly wanted to accept his word.

But she owed a duty to the public. The consumers who were possibly being scammed. She couldn’t rely on her feelings, her desire to find the best in Joshua. Growing up, her father had drummed into her that people lied. All the time. Facts counted. She needed proof. Hard evidence.

It tore her apart to think of what she might discover….

“No,” she said finally. “Just trying to get to the bottom of a disturbing rumour that the Chardonnay Saxon’s Folly supplied for tasting in the recent competition is far superior to what’s available at the retail outlets.”