She downed the champagne, checked the hour on her wristwatch, and made a quick decision. She walked to the foyer, looking back to ensure the two guards appointed to her followed. She took her mobile phone from her evening bag, and dialed her mother’s number.
Her mother’s voice came creaky and tired over the phone. “Zenobia?”
“Hi, Mom. I’m sorry I woke you.”
There was a little pause on the other end of the line. “It’s five in the morning. What time is it there?”
“It’s one in the morning.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Mom. In fact, I’m working. I’m working for a wine estate. I’m at a party, and I just wanted to hear your voice before going to bed.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Her mother sounded puzzled.
“Yes. Just tired. I haven’t had time to call you yet...” Her words drifted off. It wasn’t the truth. She had had plenty of opportunities to call. “I mean, I didn’t want to call you before.” She paused.
There was no easy way of doing this. “Marcos and I ... we broke up.”
This time the pause on the other end of the line was significantly longer. “What happened?” her mother said. “Did he leave you, or did you leave him?”
“Oh, Mom,” she sighed, “what does that matter? Anyway, I called to tell you I moved out. We had to give up the house. I’m living somewhere else now. I have a temporary job.”
“Do you need anything? Money?”
“No. I’m good.”
“How’s your new place?”
“It’s really pretty. It’s a nice job. I’ll text you the address, okay?”
“Sure. What now?” Her mother’s voice sounded unsure. “Are you coming back home?”
Zenna hesitated. There was no point in worrying her mother about the stolen car. “For the moment I’ve got this job going. I haven’t decided yet about staying. In case you need to get hold of me, you can still use my old email address or my mobile phone.”
“I know.” Her mother sounded tired.
“Are you all right, Mom? How are things?”
“You know, same old. I’m having a problem with my back now. My doctor said I won’t be able to clean my house on my own for much longer. Going to need some help soon, and you know how expensive everything here is. I don’t know how he thinks I’m supposed to afford help.” Her voice turned whiney. “The neighbor’s dog is barking day and night again. I’m going to have to call the Bobbies.”
Zenna sighed. “All right, Mom. Listen, I’ve got to go, but I just wanted to let you know where I was, and that ... I love you.”
“Yes, Zenobia. I’m not going to say I told you so.”
Zenna looked at her red, high-heeled evening shoes. “You just did, Mom,” she replied softly, before she mumbled a goodbye, and ended the call.
She walked to the sofa in the darkest corner of the foyer, and flopped down, closing her eyes. Nothing had changed in her mother’s world. Nothing had changed between them. Yet everything in hers had. Everything was different now.
The touch of a hand on hers made her jump. Her eyes shot open.
“Sorry,” Etán sat down next to her, “I didn’t intend to frighten you.”
She was actually happy to see him. “I’m more disturbed by the fact I didn’t hear you approach. You surprised me.”
He took her legs and draped them over his knees. “You’re exhausted.”
She wanted to argue, but she knew it was futile. It was written all over her face. “I’m dead. I can’t wait for our guests to leave now. These pretty shoes are killing me.”
Etán’s hand caressed the bridge of one foot, slipping the delicate high-heeled stiletto first from the one and then from her other foot. He let them drop to the floor, brushing his hands over her bare feet, caressing the skin were she had been cut, starting to massage them.
Alarm bells went off for Zenna. This was dangerous.
Too good. Oh, so good. She should say no, and she had every intention of doing so until he pressed on a tender point. His touch was smoothing. Instead, she lay back and closed her eyes again, completely focused on Etán’s strong hands.
He touched her manicured toes, worked on the aching parts at the back of her ankles. His hands moved with determined, strong strokes, around one ankle. The touch became softer until she felt his palm brushing up the length of her calf under the long red dress.
She opened her eyes and looked down. The hem of her dress had shifted up to her knee where his hand was caressing her. She felt his finger on the sensitive skin at the back of her knee and when it moved higher, she cupped her hand over his, her hand on top of the fabric of her dress, his under it. She glanced at the guards staring intently in front of them. Still, even if they were polite and pretended not to notice, she had never been the type of girl who enjoyed a public display.
She moved his hand away, sat up, and brushed a hand through her hair. “I’m going to bed. I’m shattered.” She bent and picked up her shoes.
His gaze was imploring. “Did I insult you?”
“No,” she said honestly. “I am just so tired.”
He got up and pulled her to her feet gently, not letting go of her hands. “Just another few minutes and everyone will be gone. Then I’ll be able to get out of here, too. Please, don’t go alone. I want to drive you to the other hotel.”
She was going to refuse, but she realized how little she wanted to be alone. “Fine,” she said. He took her shoes from her and bent down. She watched, surprised, as he first kissed the cuts on the soles of her feet, before he slid her shoes back on.
She allowed herself to be led around the room by Etán for the remaining thirty minutes of the evening, saying goodbyes, smiling, making promises, all the time aware of his arm around her waist. He didn’t let her out of his sight, and he didn’t give her a chance to feel unsafe. She even started to relax under the protective strength of his arm.
In the car, she had almost fallen asleep on his shoulder. It was with effort she followed Etán, dragging herself to her hotel room.
When they stopped outside her door, she hesitated. “I don’t want to be alone.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
“Will you?” she asked hopefully. “I mean, no strings attached?”
He smiled. “I’m staying.”
She stole a glance at the guards who had stopped a few paces behind them. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “What about them? What will they think?”
Etán took the key card from her hand and moved it into the slot to open the door. “Do you really care?” He pushed her into the room ahead of him, closing the door behind him.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she confessed.
“Not tonight, we don’t.”
Suddenly, she didn’t know what to do. “Thank you, Etán.” She kicked off her shoes and threw her evening bag onto a sofa. Lying down on the bed, she stared at him. “Can you hold me?”
He didn’t answer. He removed his shoes, his jacket, and tie before lying down next to her and taking her in his arms. She closed her eyes, and almost immediately drifted into a restless sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
The sun was creeping through the curtains when Zenna woke. She hadn’t slept well, but at least she had rested. Lying on her side, she felt Etán’s warm, corded body against her back, resting close to hers. His arm was draped loosely around her waist. Reluctant to break the comfortable position, she lay still for a while, keeping her eyes closed. His breathing was warm and rhythmic against her neck. She felt loath to wake him from his sleep. They were both overworked, stressed, and wilted from a lack of sleep. She would let him sleep a bit longer. She nestled against him and enjoyed the security she felt from being held in such a strong pair of arms.
“You’re awake,” he groaned.
She was surprised. “So are you. I thought you were still asleep.”
“Sleep well?�
��
Zenna turned so she could face him. His eyes were still closed. “I rested. How about you?”
“Not much,” he mused. “You snored.”
“Like hell,” she exclaimed with laughter. She grew serious. “Thank you for putting your reputation on the line by staying.”
He opened his eyes, looking straight into hers. “Glad I could be of service.”
“You know of course there may be gossip.”
He smiled lazily. “The guards won’t talk. If you’re worried about that we should at least give them reason to talk.”
She suddenly felt uncomfortable. She glanced at the time on the alarm clock over his shoulder. “It’s almost eight thirty. It’s late. We should get going. Our flight is at noon.”
“Then there’s time for this.” He reached out, took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was a soft, tender, and lingering kiss.
She knew the surprise showed in her face. “Time for a kiss?”
His smile faded. “I was worried ... petrified ... I wouldn’t be able to do this ... ever again.”
She pushed away from him and sat up. “You thought you wouldn’t find me?”
He turned on his back, looking up at her, his hands folded under his head. “I didn’t know what to think. One way or the other, we had to find you, but...”
“But?”
“Anything could have happened. What if you didn’t get away from that maniac called Zako? What you did was very brave, but very stupid. You put your life in danger. You shouldn’t have done that.”
She felt her face flush in anger. “What should I have done? Sit around prettily waiting for you to gallop to the rescue on a white horse? When I had the opportunity to overpower that schmuck, should I simply have held out my hands to him and said, ‘Here you go, tie me up, I’m waiting for someone to come and rescue me’?”
“You’re exaggerating, Zenna. I’m glad you got away on your own, but I don’t want to know you’re capable of risking your life in such a way.”
“It’s not your problem. I shouldn’t have made it yours. Soon it won’t be yours to worry about. Sorry I made you worry.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
He sat up, looking alarmed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She turned away from him, moving to get up from the bed, but he grabbed her by her arm, turning her to face him anew. “Don’t walk away from me now. Tell me what you intend to do. Run?”
She pulled her arm from his grip. “Don’t you dare preach to me if you can’t practice what you preach. You’re the one running, aren’t you?”
His eyes turned a darker shade of green. “Don’t go there, Zenna. I’ve warned you once.”
“So you can trample all over my personal life and my desires. Ordering me left, right, and center, but I’m not allowed to call a spade a spade? You’re one hell of a hypocrite.”
He watched her, his eyes flashing. “There are things you don’t understand. It’s better that it stays that way.”
She stood up. “Yes, it’s better you run with your tail between your legs. Go and hide with your head in the sand like an ostrich. Just because you lost someone dear to you, and I’m not allowed to say it, doesn’t make me that person. I can’t replace someone you cared about so don’t try to roll me into tissue paper and smother me. Don’t try to make me your sister. It won’t bring her back.”
Etán jumped. He stood, towering over her. Zenna looked up at his face, suddenly frightened of what she saw there. He was obviously fighting a battle with himself. He looked like a volcano on the edge of exploding.
“This time,” he said between clenched teeth, “you’ve pushed me too far. You’re a far cry from being like a sister to me. On the contrary...”
Zenna expected him to shout, to snap, to storm out of the room. She expected an outburst, but not what followed. He pulled her against him, fast and hard, taking her face between his hands. His lips came down on hers. This time, it was a hungry, starving kiss. It was a kiss of desperation, of hopelessness, filled with anguish, pain, and regret.
Flames started burning from her lips, her tongue, her mouth, shooting down to the depths of her very soul. Etán kissed her like a man who was lonely and lost. It was a kiss that came from someone who had believed he had lost something, someone, dear to him, only to discover he had been saved the pain of that loss. For once, fate wasn’t against him.
She began losing her way, losing reason. It was a far cry from kissing Marcos. With Marcos she had never felt she could make him lose control. Marcos had always been a little too sure of himself, too sure of his physical beauty. He knew the effect he had on her. Yet he never made her feel so desirable, so needed, as the man now holding her. Etán was more mature, deeper, and wiser than her ex-lover, but he needed her in a way Marcos never had. It made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.
She had brought it on by lashing out at him, but she couldn’t stop his caress. Neither could she ask him to stop. She was drawn into the kiss, leaning into him, ripping at his shirt in response to the desperation ripping at her to feel his skin against hers. She had tasted his lips before, but not so unrestrained. She had brushed her palms over his arms, back, and bare chest before, but this time it would be different, more powerful. She needed him as much as he needed her. She knew she was going to surrender. She didn’t have enough strength or willpower to stop.
Then... he pushed her back. A moan of regret escaped her lips when he broke their contact.
He heard it, and interpreted it correctly because guilt crept into his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “I got carried away. I shouldn’t have...”
What? No! Her whole being cried out at the coldness she suddenly felt. Tears burned in her eyes. How much longer could she stand the constant rejection? It wasn’t even that she wanted him to sleep with her. She wanted to be told she was good enough for someone.
It was so easy for him to brush her aside. If she had looked like Marcos’ Monica this would never have happened to her.
She crossed her arms protectively over her chest and backed up a step, shaking her head. “I understand.”
His expression became pained. “You don’t understand.” He looked away from her. “It was my fault my sister died, Zenna.”
At first, his words didn’t penetrate. They didn’t make sense. Slowly, as the warmth his lips left on hers started to cool, as the wild sensation running through her body faded, reason came back to her.
“What are you talking about, Etán? Teresa said she had cancer.” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.
When he looked back at her, there was so much pain and despair in his eyes she flinched. “The cancer didn’t kill her,” he said, his voice low.
“I spoke to her the day before... She called me. She had gone to Canada. She had always wanted to go there.” He suddenly looked far away.
“It had always been her dream, you see, to one day live in Canada. She was engaged. Her fiancé didn’t want her to go, but she felt time was running out for her.” He looked toward the window, seeing only the images he had guarded in his mind.
“She called me. I knew something was wrong. I knew she was up to something. I told her to wait.” His wiped a hand over his face, a face distorted with the grief. “I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want to worry her fiancé, or my parents, or Luca. It took me a day to get there. One day. One day too late. I couldn’t get there in time.”
Zenna understood. “She died?”
Etán looked at her again. “She killed herself. She took an overdose of sleeping pills. There was a note, saying she couldn’t bear to make us all suffer. She didn’t want to die in pain, and ugly. She wanted us to remember her the way she was. She wanted to spare us the agony she knew would follow.”
He shook his head slowly. “One day.” He looked at the intricate patterns on the carpet for long moments before his eyes darted back to the woman with him. “I failed Sanita, too, Zenna. I couldn’t make her happy. I failed m
y sister. I couldn’t bear to fail again. Do you understand?”
She couldn’t do more than shake her head in silent acknowledgement. She wanted to reach out to him, to hold her arms open for him, but she stood rooted to the spot, frightened and overwhelmed by his fierce emotions. Compassion grew in her. She knew what it felt like to have been left by people, but those people were still alive. She couldn’t even begin to imagine his pain.
He looked at her for what seemed a very long time before he managed to pull himself together. “You’d better get ready. We’re leaving soon,” he said in a formal voice. He headed for the door. “Call me, if you need me.”
Zenna watched the door opening and closing behind him. ‘Call me if you need me.’ She needed him, all right. She needed him, badly, but not like this. This was an even bigger mess than she could have imagined. Logically, she was still supposed to love Marcos, yet, her body craved someone else. She was sure she loved Marcos. Why else would she have been hurt by seeing the billboard?
Why, if she still loved Marcos, did her body go haywire around a man who blamed himself for his little sister’s suicide, a man who happened to be her boss, her self-appointed protector, whose family members were just about the only people who could save her? Why did Marcos’ face turn into Etán’s every time she thought about him? She realized she was shaking from head to toe. She headed for the shower, leaving the red dress in a heap on the floor.
In the commercial aircraft on the way home, Zenna mauled over the morning’s revelations. She put the headset on and pretended to be watching a movie, but she tried to make sense of her confusing feelings. So, Etán had kissed her in a moment of relief. He obviously had issues with suppressed grief and self-blame, but it wasn’t her place to point that out to him.
He had made her feel more woman than any other man she had ever met, yet, his motivation for kissing her wasn’t one of wanting her. It was one that resulted from learning this time, he didn’t have to feel responsible for a failure, however stupid his argument, since none of it was his fault, or responsibility. Zenna glanced to her right where Luca sat. He was asleep. For once, she didn’t have to be on her toes, hiding her feelings from him. To get Etán out of her system, she needed to focus her attention somewhere else. Preferably on someone else. So, maybe she was on the rebound and Etán was right about it being a bad idea to get involved with someone so quickly after having been dumped.
The Winemaker Page 21
