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by Beth Andrews


  “I left it in my car,” she said. She looked at him uncertainly. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  And that’s when he realized she wasn’t being polite. She wanted him to move.

  With a mocking bow, he took a deliberate step to the left, giving her plenty of space. “By all means. The last thing I’d want is to get in your way. Not when you have your heart set on leaving.”

  Her step faltered. But then she continued on, her gait measured in her tight skirt. The sound of her high heels faded as she walked out the door.

  But unlike her exit seven years ago, this time he was the one in control.

  He followed her outside and watched as she crossed to her silver Lexus LS. She moved like the debutante she’d been—the sway of her hips subtle, her slim shoulders back. He watched as she slowly crossed the gravel driveway and opened her car door before sitting in the driver’s seat.

  She was, as always, cool. Reserved.

  Beautiful.

  It’d been that beauty and her air of you can’t touch this that’d drawn him to her in the first place.

  And he married her—loved her—despite her aloofness. He’d wanted to have children with her, have a life with her. Grow old with her.

  But she’d left. And she had no right to come back.

  The sweat had long since dried and cooled on his body as he stared over the car to the rolling hills surrounding his family’s property. Hard to believe not fifteen minutes ago it’d been just a normal Wednesday morning run. And then he’d reached the carriage house and discovered Yvonne digging through his father’s junk in that damn skirt and a short, snug jacket that emphasized her tiny waist.

  He smirked. Once a beauty queen, always a beauty queen. Even in dust, grime and rodent droppings.

  Yvonne climbed out of the car with a large manila envelope in her hand. By the time she reached him, his expression was once again carefully neutral, his shoulder relaxed.

  She held out the envelope. “See for yourself.”

  Aidan took it, not letting their fingers touch. He flipped it over. The shipping label was addressed to World Class Weddings, care of Ms. Yvonne Delisle.

  She hadn’t kept his name.

  He pulled out the sheaf of papers inside and quickly scanned them.

  “Looks like a standard contract,” he said, forcing his tone to remain impassive. “Nothing that can’t be voided.”

  She inhaled sharply. “I’ll sue.”

  He almost laughed. “Drag your company, your family’s name, through the legal system?” Wouldn’t her father love that? And God knew, Yvonne didn’t do anything without her parents’ approval. “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t underestimate me, Aidan,” she said softly.

  His blood heated. Underestimate her? He’d loved her. Given her everything he had.

  “Don’t push me,” he warned gruffly. “I’m not one of those nice Southern boys your daddy handpicked for you.”

  Although if she’d stuck with one of those pasty-faced men with old money and “the third” after their names, men who spent their days working for their fathers, their evenings at the club and their weekends with their mistresses, he’d have been better off.

  “I’ll have to take my chances then,” she said.

  “Why?”

  After a moment, she shrugged. “I want this job.”

  “And what daddy’s little princess wants, she gets. Isn’t that how it goes?”

  “If it makes you feel better to believe that, go ahead.”

  “You don’t know how much that means to me. Your permission.”

  “Aidan, please,” she said, her voice washing over his cool skin like a warm shower, “I realize this came as a surprise to you, and I don’t know why your mother didn’t tell you about our agreement, but I was hoping we could get past our history.” She looked up at him from beneath her dark lashes. “I know it’ll be…awkward…at first and I realize you’re still angry with me—”

  “I’m not,” he lied smoothly. A lie he wanted to believe. Because to be angry meant he still felt something for her.

  Relieved, and she smiled as she laid her hand on his forearm. His breath lodged painfully in his lungs. His muscles tensed under her soft fingers. But he didn’t shake her off.

  “Then you shouldn’t have any objection to me working at the Diamond Dust,” she said.

  “I’m not angry,” he repeated and, slowly deliberately, removed her hand from his arm. “But I still don’t want you here.”

  She sent him a pitying look, setting his teeth on edge. She pitied him?

  Damn it all to hell. Damn her to hell.

  “And what Aidan Sheppard wants, he gets,” she said, tossing his words back at him.

  That wasn’t true. And that was okay. He understood life wasn’t fair. Didn’t expect it to be. But this time, this one time, he deserved to get exactly what he wanted.

  “You’ll be well compensated for your time and travel expenses,” he said, sliding the contract back into the envelope and handing it to her. “Be off my family’s property by five and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

  Before he’d even finished speaking, she started shaking her head. “This—” she waved the envelope “—states I’m employed for the next six weeks.”

  He tapped his fist against the side of his thigh. She’d never been stubborn before. Had always compromised. Or, in most cases, gave in.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “I want those six weeks.”

  “Why?”

  She frowned. “I told you, I—”

  “I know. You want this job. But why here? Surely there are other opportunities out there far away from Jewell.”

  “The first wedding here will be your mother’s.”

  “My mother’s wedding isn’t until July.”

  Yvonne shook her head. “Diane said she and the senator were moving the date up to April 9.”

  And the surprises just kept piling up. He hated surprises.

  “You’re going to be in charge of planning my mom’s wedding? Of course you are,” he said before she could respond. “What wedding planner wouldn’t want to be in charge of possibly the most talked about event of the year so far? After all, Al’s a beloved ex-politician. A wealthy ex-politician with powerful connections. And if the wedding is deemed a success, well, then who gets the credit?” He watched her carefully. “You do.”

  Two spots of color appeared high on Yvonne’s cheeks. “It’s not about taking credit.”

  “No. It’s about you using my mom’s wedding as a way to help your career. Sorry, Princess, but I’m not about to let that happen.”

  At the use of his old nickname for her, she blanched. “You don’t have a say. I went into this contract with Diane, and unless she terminates it, I’m staying.”

  You don’t have a say.

  Just as he hadn’t had a say about the end of their marriage. Resentment churned in his stomach. But he didn’t give in to it. He walked away. Because no one made Aidan Sheppard lose control. Especially not Yvonne Delisle.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “WERE YOU GOING TO TELL me?” Aidan asked as he entered his mother’s spacious kitchen. “Or was I suppose to find out myself?”

  Pouring coffee into a mug, Diane Sheppard glanced at her son. Even when he planned on working out in the vineyards all day, he looked as if he’d stepped out of some sort of catalog. He had on loose cargos and a plaid denim work shirt open over a waffle knit Henley. His short hair was neatly combed, the golden strands dark and damp from a recent shower.

  As usual, Aidan had arrived at the break of day for a run around the vineyard before returning to shower and dress in the bathroom adjoining his office upstairs. All before she’d even had her cup of coffee.

  Her eldest loved nothing more than his routine, his schedules and his family.

  It was up to her to help him see there was more to life than the first two. That he didn’t have to sacrifice so much for the third.
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br />   “I’m afraid I can’t answer that, as I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Although she could guess.

  Diane sighed. This conversation was not going to be easy.

  She tightened the sash of the new knee-length, velour robe she wore over her pajamas. Then again, no one ever said doing the right thing was easy.

  “Coffee?” she asked.

  Not waiting for an answer, she poured him a cup.

  He accepted it without taking his eyes off her. “I’m talking about you hiring my ex-wife to work at the Diamond Dust.”

  He watched her steadily, his eyes a cross between her own blue ones and the green of his father’s. But under his careful detachment, she sensed his agitation. His anger.

  Her sons. Though they tried, they couldn’t hide anything from their mother.

  “I was going to tell you,” she said, adding cream to her coffee before crossing to the large, granite-topped island to sit on one of the high-backed stools, “when I deemed the time right.”

  His jaw worked—throwing away all the money she’d invested in his orthodontic care as a teen by grinding his teeth to dust. “I’d say the right time is now. Seeing as how I discovered Yvonne picking through Dad’s stuff at the carriage house while I was on my run.”

  “Oh?” Diane sipped her coffee to hide her surprise. “I wasn’t expecting her until this afternoon.”

  She’d last spoken to her the night before, when Yvonne had called to let Diane know she’d received the signed contract and the keys to both the cottage and the carriage house. Diane had half thought Yvonne wouldn’t show up at all. Returning to Jewell couldn’t be easy for the younger woman. Not after how things ended between her and Aidan. How she’d ended things between them.

  And though Diane had nothing against her ex-daughter-in-law, Yvonne had never struck her as being brave enough, strong enough or self-sufficient enough to tackle the difficult things in life head-on.

  Lord knew, Aidan could be all sorts of difficult.

  But she’d hoped the promise of a new contract would bring her back. Good to know she’d been right. Again.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Aidan asked.

  She narrowed her eyes. But since his reaction—and his insolent tone—were quite understandable, she took another drink instead of calling him on it. “I was thinking that she’d be the best person to plan my wedding.”

  “Your wedding. Right,” he said. “Would this be the wedding you’ve moved up by three months without telling your family?”

  “I—”

  He held up a hand. “Wait. Let me guess. You were going to tell us. When you deemed the time right.”

  “I was going to tell you,” she said frostily, “at lunch tomorrow. After a few more details had been nailed down.”

  “Why move it up at all?”

  “Yvonne’s already booked for the summer and this was the only time her company was willing to spare her for a few months.” What she didn’t mention was the exorbitant fee she’d agreed to in order to get World Class Weddings to let their most popular planner leave for six weeks. “Al and I moved the date up so she could take the job.” She smiled brightly, as if Aidan wasn’t trying to skewer her with his glare. “From all accounts, she’s one of the best wedding planners in the South.”

  Her stubborn son seemed less than impressed. “And since you hired her to plan your wedding, you decided to throw in a job at the winery as a bonus?”

  “I decided that we could use someone with her skills and connections to help get our events business off the ground.”

  “Get off the ground? We decided only three days ago to start hosting events. I thought we’d do a little research. See if this idea is even feasible before committing to it.”

  “We’re already committed. You and your brothers agreed—”

  “They agreed. I just went along with the majority vote.”

  As if she didn’t realize how much that had bothered him—no longer having sole authority over all decisions made at the winery. Oh, she was still the owner, but for the past eight years, Aidan had run the company with little input from her. Once he and his brothers became full partners in July, when she retired, that would all change.

  “It’s a done deal,” she said. “Which was why I wanted to get the ball rolling. I see no sense in putting this off.”

  He stared at her as if he could look inside her head and sort through her lies. “You haven’t had more than a passing interest in the company since Dad died. Why get involved now?”

  Guilt squeezed the air from her lungs and she stared blindly at the rings on her right hand. The rings her first husband had given her. The rings that, despite being engaged to another man, despite being in love with Al, she hadn’t been able to take off.

  What Aidan said was true. So true. When she’d lost Tom, she’d stopped caring about the Diamond Dust. They’d started the winery from the ground up—literally. They’d planted the vines. Nurtured them and helped them grown. They’d renovated the original farmhouse into the gift shop-tasting room with their own hammers and nails, had come up with a business plan, taught themselves how to run a successful winery.

  But without her husband by her side, she hadn’t wanted anything to do with the business they’d built together. So she’d turned to Aidan, who’d given up his own ambitions to keep his father’s dreams alive.

  And she’d let him.

  “Though I may have taken a…backseat at the winery these past few years,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the base of her mug. “I’m always interested in what’s going on with my company.”

  “Funny how your interest just happens to involve my ex-wife.”

  “We need her. Connie doesn’t know how to get the winery ready, so I hired Yvonne as a consultant.”

  Their vineyard manager, Connie Henkel, had been a valuable employee ever since she’d started working there sixteen years ago. But now that Diane’s youngest son Matt—a noted vintner who’d worked at some of the best wineries in the world—had agreed to join the winery a few weeks ago, Connie had been forced to share her duties with him.

  “There’s no way Connie can tackle this job on her own,” Diane continued. “Besides, with her helping Matt manage the vineyards, her time is limited.”

  “There’s no need for her to help Matt,” Aidan said as he refreshed his coffee. “He’s more than capable of running things on his own.”

  “Keeping Connie from those vineyards is like trying to stop the rain from falling. She loves them.”

  “Then I guess you should’ve thought of that before you blackmailed Matt into joining the company.”

  “I did,” she said, regret making her voice sharp.

  Of course she’d thought of Connie. She’d worried that her decision would push the woman she loved like a daughter out of her life, but in the end, she couldn’t come up with any other way to guarantee all three of her sons returned to the Diamond Dust.

  And then two days ago Aidan had offered Connie the job of events coordinator. Eventually, she would learn how to be the best events coordinator ever, Diane was certain of that, and it would ensure she’d always have a place at the winery. To everyone’s shock, she’d not only declined the offer, but had quit her job at the Diamond Dust.

  Fortunately, Matt had been able to convince her to stay. And to give him a chance to be in her and her two young daughters’ lives.

  Which was wonderful, especially considering that Diane suspected Matt had been the real reason Connie had quit in the first place.

  But that didn’t change the fact that their events coordinator knew more about grapes than caterers.

  Diane stood and crossed to the sink to rinse out her cup before putting it in the dishwasher, her movements jerky. Aidan was angry. She understood that, accepted it. Just as she’d accept the consequences of her actions, of the mistakes she’d made. One of those being that if things didn’t work out the way she wanted them to, he might never forgive her.


  She shut the dishwasher door with more force than necessary. That was a chance she was willing to take, alienating her son. Alienating another son, since Matt still hadn’t fully forgiven her for forcing him to be a part of the business.

  “As much as you may not like it,” she said, “Yvonne is the best person for this temporary job. I wouldn’t have hired her if I didn’t truly believe that.”

  “She showed me her contract, the agreement you made with her on behalf of the Diamond Dust.” He set his still full cup on the counter and crossed his arms. “I want you to break it.”

  Drying her hands on a tea towel, Diane slowly faced him. “I can’t do that.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “Both. I’ve never gone back on my word and I certainly don’t plan to start now. Besides, that contract isn’t only between me and Yvonne, it’s between the Diamond Dust and World Class Weddings, and the last thing we need is another breach of contract lawsuit.”

  “We wouldn’t have to deal with any lawsuits if you hadn’t forced Matt to break his contract with Queen’s Valley. Nice that you never have to go back on your word, but you have no problem asking your sons to.”

  Okay, she deserved that. Queens’ Valley being the vineyard in South Australia where Matt had been working until three weeks ago. And a lawsuit was a small price to pay for her getting what she wanted.

  She laid a hand on his arm. It was a testament to his love and respect for her that he didn’t pull away. “I realize this isn’t an ideal situation, but it’s only temporary. Surely you can put aside your own personal feelings and do what’s best for the Diamond Dust?”

  Under her fingers, the muscles in his arm tensed. “Don’t I always?”

  Yes. Yes, he did. And that was the problem. His rigid sense of responsibility and loyalty to his family and the winery had cost him his marriage. Now she would use those same traits to push him and Yvonne back together. The rest was up to them.

 

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