His mouth tightened. “I didn’t.”
Dion’s touch grazed her back. “We have some extra suits, if you need them. Please help yourselves.” He and one of the women followed Jarod and the other two women down the hall.
“Great.” Jon smiled.
Her hopes of spending the night by his side washed away with the receding group like the tide. “Jon.”
He turned, his face a question mark. “Come on, babe. Remember the waterfall.” He grasped her waist, pulled her to him and strolled to the pool room.
Earlier, those words had brought comfort. Now, the last hope of leaving early vanished with them. Even with his arm around her, her nerves shook.
Dion nodded toward the wall, which opened to an inner alcove. “You will find everything you need in there.”
She followed Jon into the alcove. A stone bench sat inside a stall with shelves holding towels and bathing suits. She pulled one from the shelf. It looked about her size, but not her style.
“Make sure no one comes in while I change, will you?” The lack of doors hurried her.
“I’ll protect you.” He leaned against the entrance, watching her.
She slid off her dress and let him look.
He smiled. “Need any help?”
“Maybe later. First wrap up your unfinished business, so we can get out of here.” The suit’s metallic gold top plunged to her belly button and exposed her back. The black bottoms cut high on her thigh. Checking her reflect, it fit her as if custom-made.
“Relax, will you? Let’s try to have fun tonight.” He whipped off his polo shirt and slacks and tugged on the suit, as snug as hers.
She could imagine the women ogling him already. “You seemed to be having fun without me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Never mind.” The night had already veered off course. She didn’t want to taint it any further.
Once they emerged, Jarod urged him in. Jon dove and reappeared in the middle with a whoop.
Clio padded along the wet tiles.
Jarod whistled. “Let’s see your double twist.”
She smiled. “My diving skills are a little out of practice. I’ll use the steps.”
He ducked below the water and pushed off.
Her foot grazed the stair. Waves lapped at her legs as each step brought her in deeper.
Dion swam effortlessly toward her, and threw back his head, wiping away the water trickling from his hair. “The water’s perfect.”
On the last step, she unhooked the hair clip. Her mahogany locks curled against her shoulders. “So much for the hairdo.” She tossed the clip to the tiles lining the side of the pool and plunged in. Surrounded by the warm water, her nerves unwound as she backstroked up the length of the pool, then floated down toward one side.
From its edge, the pool appeared to spill out over the horizon. It lent an otherworldly feel to this place – a place which already seemed out of synch with the present, occupying its own timeless niche. Dion’s dealings in present-day business presented no conflict, seemed more of an indulgence for him than a necessity.
He swam toward her, and lifted himself from the water to sit on the edge beside her. “You’re too pensive.” His shorts clung to his hips and legs.
She averted her gaze. “I’m admiring the beautiful view. If I lived here, I would spend every spare moment here. I don’t know how you get any work done.”
“I spend more time here than I should. Its beauty replenishes my weary soul.” Water dripped from his curls to his chest and trickled down his taut stomach.
His every movement commanded her attention. Her body had an awareness of his that seemed separate from her conscious thought. A desire to reach for him she had to actively suppress.
“It’s strange. I feel like this place is suspended between the past and the future.”
He tensed, and peered at her intently.
She hadn’t intended to spoil his good mood. “Anyway, it’s hard to imagine one so vital having a weary soul.”
“Vitality is necessary for accomplishment. But something I also work to sustain.” A sheen of water made his muscles stand out in relief. He obviously worked at maintaining his body too.
She forced herself to look elsewhere. “It must take an enormous amount of energy to manage everything you do, all by yourself.”
“I do not hesitate to accept assistance. Or to delegate whenever possible.” His intensity overshadowed his modesty as he glanced across the room with a shrewd eye. Assessing. Accounting.
Jarod swam past, his kicks splashing water. Jon followed clumsily, his voice hoarsely calling, “Hey.”
He appeared to be exhausting himself. Had he drunk so much already?
“Sweetie, why not take a break?” Sickness washed over her as an image of him floated into her head: eyes closed, arms and legs stretched out limp, his body lowering deeper, the water closing in on him.
He waved her off. “In a bit.”
Dion touched her forearm. “I have an idea.” His voice thundered across the water. “Let’s all go for a walk through the vineyard.”
“In the dark?” She glanced outside. The others had already begun to climb out of the pool.
His gaze fell to her lips. “There’s a full moon. It’s the best time for a walk. And you should have a firsthand look at the raw product.” He stood and extended his hand, waiting. An innocent gesture imbued with layers of meaning she couldn’t quite decipher, yet she felt the indescribable pull of yearning.
She slid her fingers into his. When he tugged her up, her foot slipped on the tile. In an instant, his arm encircled her waist.
The feel of his skin against hers made her flush with warmth. “Sorry.”
He held her a moment too long. “My pleasure.”
When he released her, she flushed again, embarrassed at her disappointment. She threw a sarong over her suit, pulled her hair to one side and took her place at Jon’s side.
They followed Dion outside, where the moon cast a gauzy light across the hills. She was like a goddess in an ancient land. Strong. Capable of powers she’d never dreamed, feats she’d never dared.
Marcella and Mariam flanked Jarod, speaking in inaudible tones, clinging to his arms.
During their tour, Dion explained the irrigation system and the life cycle of the grape. Affection filled his voice, describing the vineyard’s growth as he might his own child’s.
She encircled her arm around Jon, glad to near him again. “It’s so beautiful out here.” The night air washed over her, warm as the pool water.
“It’s hard to see the raw product in the dark,” he whispered.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Where’s Jarod?”
Several rows over, three shadows merged into one. Low murmurs and throaty laughter rose and fell. Something about the way the women circled Jarod put her on edge, almost as if he were caught in the center of a spider’s web they wove.
Like a hunter, Dion focused on the three and crossed into their row. “Mariam. Marcella. We’re going back to the house.”
At Dion’s command, they followed at a distance.
When the group reached the patio, a cell phone rang somewhere. From the vineyard, Jarod moaned a muted hello. He stopped, raked a hand through his hair. What? When? He strode quickly toward them. “Sorry, I have to go. Something’s come up. Dion, thanks for the great party.” He pointed at Jon. “Call me tomorrow.”
The women strolled to the patio and slumped to the chaises, all playfulness gone.
Jon lurched forward, holding his stomach. “I’m not feeling very well.”
Clio held him. “Are you all right?” When he groaned in response, she said, “Let’s get you home.”
Dion stepped beside Jon. “Perhaps you’d like to rest in the media room for awhile.” Over Jon’s bent body, his glance caught hers, beseeching. Inviting.
She struggled to find the resistance she should have. “No, it’s best if I—”
“Yes
. Thank you, Dion.” Jon stumbled into the house.
Helpless, she watched him disappear down the hall.
“He’ll be all right.”
She let out a breath she hadn’t known she held. The breeze riffled through her hair, and she hugged herself, suddenly feeling naked in the bathing suit and sarong.
Wind lifted his unbuttoned shirt. “Are you cold?”
“I’m fine.” She willed her muscles to loosen.
From somewhere inside the house, a pulsing beat echoed. His dimples deepened when he smiled. “The girls must have put on a movie.”
She repressed the urge to ask who, exactly, the “girls” were to him. Relatives? Employees? Neither seemed a fitting explanation, yet their connection to him was undeniable. He had some hold over them. Maybe it had something to do with his family position.
His dark eyes shone. “Can I get you anything?” He touched her arm.
With anyone else, the gesture would have seemed casual. But Dion’s warmth sparked a fire that made her yearn to feel his skin against hers, an urgent desire that went beyond all reason.
“No thanks.” She forced a smile. “I should go check on Jon.” She turned to the doors, but her body seemed anchored. She closed her eyes. Go inside. Now.
Something released within her and she opened her eyes. Her feet obeyed her command to walk.
The walls vibrated with crashing music. She slipped inside the media room. The light from the movie flashed bright and then darkened. She approached the pit, trying to discern Jon’s shape. A pillow covered his head.
She pushed it aside and touched his cheek. “Jon. Wake up. Jon.”
He laid still as death. She shook him, but still nothing. Had he passed out?
She sat back on her heels and held her head, her stomach churning.
“Are you all right?” Dion crouched beside her and held her arm to steady her.
“I’m a little woozy, too, I’m embarrassed to say.” Drunk seemed more like it. What must he think of her?
His warm smile reassured her. “No need to be embarrassed. It’s been an eventful week. And it’s late.”
She rubbed her temple. “That’s very gracious of you. I guess I drank more than I intended.” She couldn’t remember having more than two, although her glass was refilled so many times before it was half gone, her estimate could be completely wrong.
As often as he’d lifted his glass to his mouth, the wine didn’t appear to have the same effect on Dion. Maybe he’d built up a tolerance for it.
He leaned in close. “I would be happy to put you up for the night.”
Her gaze snapped to his. Did he mean her? She glanced away. Of course not. He meant both of them. “No, we couldn’t.”
“I can’t let you drive home like this. And how will you manage your husband?”
How indeed? She couldn’t very well carry him. He slept soundly through her efforts to rouse him.
“You can stay in one of the spare bedrooms. I’ll help Jonathan upstairs.” He stood.
Flustered, no arguments came to mind. “I don’t know how to repay your kindness.”
“Simply accept it.” He helped her to her feet, his thumb caressing the top of her hand, his gaze searing into hers.
She nodded, afraid to move.
Dion’s face softened. He brought her fingers to his lips.
Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse raced. He lifted his head, and she felt afloat in his eyes. The light flickered over his face like a strobe, mesmerizing her.
As if in slow motion, he bent over Jon. “Jonathan. Stand up.”
Jon’s eyes fluttered and he squinted at Dion, who helped him stand, dragged him up the steps. Clio opened the door, and Dion laid her husband on the bed.
He turned to her, his chest heaving. Electricity pulsed through her, his gaze taking in every inch of her. Rooted to where he stood, as though holding himself back.
“Thanks. I can manage from here.” She held the door, as much to steady herself as signal he should leave.
“Good night.” He strode toward her, every movement intent on her.
Her body went fluid in anticipation.
He brushed past, stopping beside her. “If there’s anything you need, I’ll be down the hall.”
She bit back her response and closed her eyes, nodded.
In his wake, her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. She fought the urge to follow him down the hall.
Jon snored in the bed. He is your husband. She closed the door, and willed herself to lie beside him.
* * * *
The curtain billowed in the breeze. Beyond, ribbons of amber and peach streaked the sky. Beautiful, but an unfamiliar view. Remnants of last night returned, and Clio reached for Jon. A rumple in the covers provided the sole evidence he’d shared the bed with her.
She sat up. “Jon?”
Only silence, even in the bathroom, but she rose to check it. Empty. The bedroom door creaked when she opened it to the wide hallway. She crept down the stairs into the main room, then the kitchen. Deserted. The media room, too, stood empty; the quiet seemed unnatural. A chill swept over her: the pool. He’d had too much to drink, but maybe he’d come down for a early swim…
She ran down the hall and around the dividing wall.
A man stood by the glass wall, staring out across the morning sky.
“Jon?” As soon as she spoke, she knew her error.
Dion turned. “Clio.” He walked to her, the susurrus of his black silk suit somehow soothing. “Everything all right?”
“I can’t find Jon.” Her voice quivered.
His touch warmed her arms. “He went for a walk to clear his head.”
“A walk?” Jon hated to walk. He loved to run, but in the state he had been in, that seemed unlikely.
“Through the vineyard.” He inclined his head in that direction, but kept his eyes on her.
The trees stood like silent sentinels, guarding nothing. No movement, the shadows static.
“I’m worried about him.” The air gave her a chill, and she shivered.
His hands enveloped hers. “He’s fine. He’ll be back soon.”
None of it made sense. It wasn’t like him. She couldn’t think of any argument. She’d been asleep. And he had left her there, with no word. Nothing.
She walked to the brink of the pool, unsure whether she should try to find him. Get away from here. Bring him home, where things might make sense again.
“Are you hungry? Would you like any coffee?”
Even that small decision loomed monumental. To begin breakfast without him seemed rude. “Coffee would be wonderful.”
He extended his hand. “Come.”
As before, she acted upon the word without thought.
He strolled into the hallway. “Why don’t you wait on the veranda? I’ll just be a minute.”
She nodded. Letting him take control eased her somehow. When he strode away, she wandered outside to a wrought iron table beneath the wisteria-covered pergola and sat in a chair.
Numb, she could barely think.
He emerged from the doorway carrying a silver tray. He set it on the table and filled two mugs. “Sugar? Cream?”
“Just cream, thanks.”
He set the cup in front of her, unfolded the newspaper and paged through it.
She sat, zombie-like, staring into the distance. Leaves fluttered, an occasional branch swayed, but no other movement.
He offered her the paper. She shook her head. Unless it could explain her husband’s disappearance, she didn’t care to read it.
“Feel free to do whatever you’d like. Swim, sun yourself.”
“I’m still dressed for either.” Ridiculous of her not to bring her clothes upstairs last night. “Did Jon say anything else?”
“No.” Innocent as a boy scout.
She stood. “I’ll call his cell phone.” Her sarong billowed as she strode inside and ran upstairs. Other than the mussed bed, the room looked the same as yeste
rday. She hurried downstairs to the pool room again. In the stall where she’d changed, her clothes covered her purse as she’d left it yesterday.
His phone rang through to voice mail. She flipped her phone shut, speed-dialed him again.
On the veranda, Dion stood, hands in his slacks, looking out over the hills.
She walked to the table, unsure whether to sit or pace.
“Any luck?” His pleasant tone didn’t reassure her.
“No.” She laid the cell phone on the table.
“As I said, I’m sure he will return soon.” His slacks sported an iron’s crease, his polo wrinkle-free.
She wondered whether his female employees performed his chores. And what else they performed for him.
Suddenly aware of her disheveled appearance, she smoothed her hair to one side. “Please don’t let me keep you from business – you’re obviously on your way out.”
He grasped the back of the chair beside her. “I do have a meeting, but I’ll be back before noon.”
She sighed. “I should go home, wait for Jon to call.” It seemed too strange to remain without him. To have him disappear at all.
“You’re more than welcome to stay. Relax in the sun. Explore the library or the media room – I have an extensive music collection.”
Music. So the sound system wasn’t merely for movie sound effects. “I don’t want to intrude any further.”
“Nonsense. It will be nice to have someone make use of the resources.”
It would at least give her something to do while she waited. “If you’re sure you don’t mind….”
“I insist.”
If she remained uneasy, it wasn’t for his lack of graciousness. He excused himself, and she heard his car pull from the driveway.
The cell phone. She called again. This time, a faint tone came from the driveway. Maybe Jon had walked out front to the car. Barefoot, she ran across the hot flagstone. Nearing her car, the tone became louder. Heat blasted from the car’s interior when she opened the door. The call went to voice mail again as she found his phone on the seat. It must have fallen from his pocket.
Strange, since Jon never left his cell phone anywhere.
She bit her lip and glanced up the driveway and down. Except for the horrid fountain, the scene appeared peaceful. Nothing to do but wait. She palmed his phone and carried it inside.
Clio's Choice Page 3
