Estate Affair

by Sara Orwig

  Lara looked at him again, remembering the night and the passion, the intimacy between them. She was torn with conflicting emotions, hating that she had involved herself with an Ashton, yet at the same time unable to view the past hours with regret.

  Panic gripped her. She had to get out of the hotel and away from him before he awakened.

  Hastily, she gathered her things and rushed to the bathroom to dress. She fumbled with her clothes, yanking them on. How could she have gone off with a stranger the way she had? What had gotten into her to toss aside all common sense?

  And the night of lust! She had been wanton and abandoned with a man who was a total stranger. She had never had a one-night stand with a man, much less one whose full name she didn’t know.

  Why had she thought it would be all right because she met him at the reception at the estate? It was only reasonable to expect the place to be crawling with Ashtons.

  She held her breath and opened the door.

  He was lying on his side, his arm thrown across the bed, and he didn’t look as if he had moved since she had slipped out of his embrace. For one minute she was caught and held, her gaze roaming down the length of him while she remembered what it felt like to be in his arms. He was handsome in a rugged manner, far too appealing. Longing tugged at her, and she shook her head, shoving aside any yearning she might feel.

  With her heart pounding, she crossed the suite and let herself out as quietly as possible.

  She all but ran to the lobby to ask a bellman to get her a taxi. Within minutes she climbed into a cab and gave the driver directions. As the cab pulled away from the curb, she looked back at the hotel. Eli was in there asleep. She slammed shut that train of thought and turned her back on the hotel. She needed to put last night out of her mind. But she knew she would never forget Eli Ashton.

  She would ask one of her friends, another of the housekeeping staff from Ashton Estate, to come pick her up. She didn’t want to leave a trail behind that Eli could easily follow. If he even wanted to follow it. Once he knew her ties to his father’s other family, he would lose all interest, she was certain. The Louret Vineyard head winemaker would not pursue a maid from the Ashton Estate for more than one reason.

  On the other hand, why wouldn’t he want to see her? She had let him seduce her without the slightest protest. Far from it—she had been as eager and willing as he.

  Why had she ever gotten involved with a man whose identity she didn’t know?

  If Eli searched for her—and she doubted he would—he couldn’t find her without knowing her last name.

  She had thought he was mourning Spencer’s death. If he was a son Spencer had sired and abandoned, then his grim countenance had not been from sorrow but from fury. Lara realized that Eli had been hurting when he snapped at her on the veranda. She inhaled, trying to squelch the sympathy that stirred in her.

  She sat back in the cab and closed her eyes. Eli Ashton. The appalling discovery of his identity still rocked her. She was shocked at her own behavior, astounded to learn who he was. The knowledge kept running through her mind over and over. And the knowledge that he may have been hurting badly yesterday nagged at her. Beneath all that rough exterior was a good man.

  The cab dropped her in front of another hotel as she’d directed. She went inside and used the phone to call her closest friend, Franci Stanopolis, and asked her to come get her.

  Once in Franci’s ancient yellow car, Lara stared gloomily out the window while Franci’s dark-brown eyes sparkled with curiosity.

  “Well,” Franci said, “are you going to tell me anything?”

  “Yes, but you have to keep this one to yourself,” Lara said and proceeded to tell brief highlights of how she had left the estate to go and have a drink with Eli.

  “What’s he look like? I’ll bet he’s handsome,” Franci said eagerly.

  “He’s handsome and he took me to a restaurant in Napa and we talked. The time flew past. Franci, it was just an intense attraction—that’s all I can say to explain it.”

  “Love at first sight.”

  “Hardly,” Lara remarked dryly. “More like lust at first sight. He’s handsome, wealthy, sexy.”

  “You’re like Cinderella, except you don’t have a glass slipper. Why do you look so glum? Did he walk out on you this morning?”

  “I walked out on him.”

  Franci screeched, shooting a quick glance at her friend. “Why on earth would you do something like that? He sounds like Prince Charming!”

  “Hardly. Franci, it sounds terrible now, but we didn’t bother with last names. They just didn’t come up. We talked about everything else under the sun.”

  “Ah, you hit it off in more ways than just physical. And I’ll bet he’s a great person.”

  “This morning I saw his open billfold. He’s Eli Ashton.”

  “No! Which one of the other Ashtons is that? Spencer is beginning to turn up a harem of wives and children.”

  “Spencer liked women. So does Eli.”

  “You don’t know that. All you know is that he liked one woman, a pretty redhead I know.”

  “He likes women. Believe me,” Lara insisted.

  “Which Ashton is he?”

  “He’s from Louret Vineyards. He said he is a winemaker so that rules out the Nebraska family that Spencer abandoned.”

  Franci glanced at her friend. “Why on earth did you walk out on him?”

  “I can’t believe you’re asking that question. This is Spencer Ashton’s son—you know how I loathed Spencer and his groping hands. Spencer made my life hell—yours, too, except he couldn’t hold it over you that he would fire your mother if you didn’t let him paw you,” Lara said bitterly.

  “That doesn’t mean you hate his son or that his son is like him.” Franci’s black curls bobbed as she shook her head.

  “To quote an old saying, ‘The apple never falls far from the tree.’” She shivered. “I detested Spencer!”

  “Don’t let the police hear you say that one!” Franci exclaimed. “I still say you can’t hold what Spencer did against his son. A son he didn’t even raise. Trace isn’t like that.”

  “No, he’s not. Anyway, I’m out of Eli’s league and, if he had learned I was an Ashton Estate domestic, he would have walked out on me.”

  “Only if he’s a snob. Did you think he was a snob? And be honest.”

  “I don’t care. For plenty of reasons the head winemaker of Louret Vineyards will not want to pursue getting to know a maid at the Ashton Estate. And you know how Lilah Ashton feels about that other family. She despises them and threw out those women from that family when they came on a peace mission recently. I just hope Lilah doesn’t learn about this, because I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Mom’s job as head housekeeper.”

  “Lilah isn’t going to fire your mother because you went out with one of those other Ashtons.”

  “You don’t know that. Spencer threatened to fire people—and did—all the time.”

  “Lilah isn’t Spencer. She might get in a huff, but she won’t fire your mom for something you did. Besides, your mom is excellent at her job. Lilah isn’t going to get rid of someone who does such a super job. Your mom or you.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Lara said.

  “Tell me more about him. Is he a sexy kisser?”

  “Franci! That’s off-limits.”

  “I’m not asking intimate details, just is he a sexy kisser. On a scale of one to ten, where does he rate?”

  “About one hundred,” Lara answered dryly.

  “Oh, my. Maybe you should rethink not seeing him again.”

  “Franci, he won’t want to see me, a lowly maid. And I’ll be back in law school again in the fall. Besides, I don’t want to get involved with Spencer Ashton’s son. And I’ve told you before, until I’m out of school, I definitely don’t want a man complicating my life.”

  “Was Eli Ashton at all like Spencer last night?”

  “Yes. He gets his way. He’s ve
ry determined.”

  “That’s not bad as long as he doesn’t hurt anyone. Has he hurt people the way Spencer did?”

  “I’m sure he hasn’t,” Lara admitted with a sigh. “When he mentioned his family, his voice was warm and his remarks were complimentary. Eli may not be like his father, but it doesn’t matter. Our lives are not in the same world.”

  “You just like being in control. Maybe when you meet a man who also likes to be in control, it’s dynamite.”

  Lara took a deep breath and stared out the car window. It had been dynamite, all right.

  When she was finally home again, she hurried upstairs to her room. Each step she took, climbing to the second floor and then going higher to the third floor and the servants’ quarters, took her farther from Eli’s world of luxury.

  She stepped into her small, yellow and white bedroom, closing the door and flinging down her purse. She went across the room, pulling off her black dress and balling it up, tossing it on the floor of the closet. In the bathroom she yanked off her plain cotton panties that should have given Eli a clue to her status. She tried to forget their loving yet she was unable to banish images of Eli—virile, naked, his hands creating ecstasy.

  But despite what they had shared together, Eli was an Ashton and the Ashtons were not to be trifled with. In fairness, she had to admit that Trace, Megan and Paige were fine, likable people. Blood ties to Spencer hadn’t turned them into monsters. It was Spencer who was the monster. Eli probably viewed Spencer as a monster, too.

  But good or bad, Eli represented wealth and privilege and a world that she was not privy to.

  She sighed and shook her head. “I simply refuse to think about you, Eli Ashton,” she declared loudly in the shower.

  She dressed in her black maid’s uniform to begin her duties at the estate. As she wound her hair behind her head, she wondered what Eli would think if he could see her now.

  Eli stirred and stretched and rolled over, running his arm over the cool sheets. He opened his eyes and then sat up to gaze around.

  “Lara?” he called. When she didn’t answer, the first inkling that something was amiss struck him and he swung his feet out of bed and stood.

  Four

  “L ara!” he called again, and still there was only silence.

  “Dammit,” he grumbled, going to the bathroom to grab a towel to wrap around his waist. He walked through the suite and then called the front desk, but a new clerk had come on, and no one knew anything about Lara.

  Eli raked his fingers through his hair and searched the suite more carefully. With every passing minute his aggravation increased.

  Lara had left without a trace. No note, no phone number—nothing. Lara who? He realized that he didn’t know her last name. He hadn’t particularly wanted to give his yesterday, but he should have gotten her full name.

  He was disappointed, hurt and annoyed at himself. Today he had expected to exchange phone numbers, learn where she lived and tell her where he lived. He had expected to wake up and make love to her again. He would have had room service deliver breakfast and maybe he could have talked her into staying with him through the morning.

  For a few minutes he was lost in remembering their moments of lovemaking and her wild responses to him. He became hot and aroused just thinking about her lush body and how her hands had played over him.

  In frustration he raked his fingers through his thick hair again and swore quietly. Anger churned in him and made him want to forget her and go on home, but he couldn’t. He wanted to see her.

  Why had she just walked out on him? They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, and she had seemed warm and caring—not the type to just vanish without a word.

  She was an acquaintance of Spencer’s other family—she’d been at his funeral reception. But he couldn’t expect any information about her from them. They wouldn’t give him the time of day. Lara. That’s all he knew about her name. But it wasn’t all he knew about her. They’d had a firestorm of lovemaking last night.

  From the very first few words they had exchanged, she had intrigued and attracted him. Everywhere he looked in the suite, he could see her in his imagination. He remembered everything about her, her kisses, how her hair sprang back into curls when he combed his fingers through it, her flirtatious brown eyes. Her fantastic long legs. Her kisses that set him on fire with a mere memory.

  He swore softly. It wasn’t going to help him any to stand around in the empty hotel suite and think about the night. He called room service, ordered breakfast and then headed for the bathroom to shower.

  He drank a glass of orange juice, but his appetite had fled. Getting dressed in his rumpled shirt and trousers, he went to the lobby to check out. He made inquiries and tipped people and found a valet who had helped her into a cab.

  No danger of anyone not noticing her or forgetting her, he knew. She was a beautiful woman, and it was easy to find someone who remembered her.

  Eli checked out, got in his car and headed north. He called the vineyard and talked briefly to his brother Cole and said he was on his way home. All the time he talked, as he drove through Napa, he found himself looking for Lara, watching other cars, looking at people walking past on the street.

  One minute he swore he would find her. Then the next minute he told himself to forget her. But forgetting her was impossible; he wanted to be with her right now.

  He picked up his cell phone, called information for the number of the cab company and then tried to locate the driver who had driven her away from the hotel.

  A dispatcher said he would find the driver and get back to Eli. After thanking the man, Eli broke the connection and tossed the phone on the car seat beside him in disgust. Let her go, he told himself. It was another disappointment like so many he’d had before.

  His thoughts jumped to Spencer. Soon there would be a reading of the will. Would Spencer finally right some of the wrongs he had committed in his life?

  Eli wondered if the police would ever catch the person who had murdered Spencer. If there were any clues, the police were keeping quiet about them. They had talked to him the day after the murder, but that didn’t surprise Eli. It was well-known that he had no kind feelings for Spencer. But he and Spencer also hadn’t crossed paths often, except for wine events—times when Louret labels had been given higher acclaim than wines from the Ashton vineyards.

  How Eli had enjoyed every triumph that Louret wines had had over Ashton Estate wines. He guessed each award had infuriated Spencer. He hoped they had.

  While Louret couldn’t produce the quantity of Ashton Estate vineyards, Louret always topped Ashton in quality. Their boutique winery was small but superior, and Eli was proud of his part in the achievement of excellence, and he was proud of his mother for all she had done.

  As he left town he thought about how his whole family had pulled together through the years and what a fine job they had done. His brother, Cole, was indispensable and his baby sister, Jillian, was becoming an expert. It amazed him how capable she had become and she was still learning. Of course, they were butting heads over some of her ideas. Little, stubborn “Shrimp” wouldn’t give up on her vision for a meritage—softening the Cabernet Sauvignon with other varieties. Maybe he should listen to her.

  His sister Mercedes surprised and pleased him, too, with her marketing skills. Mason, the youngest, was studying in France, and his knowledge should help them develop more superior wines. Together they were all building a premier boutique winery that rivaled some of the elite wineries of Europe.

  As Eli sped north along the highway, unbidden, memories crowded out all thoughts of Louret wines. He could remember Lara’s perfume, her laughter, her kisses. Why had she slipped away without letting him know?

  He wasn’t accustomed to being brushed off by women, much less one he had become intimate with. He knew nothing about her or where to start looking.

  To hell with searching for her, he thought. If she wanted out of his life, fine. He could forget her. The
world was filled with beautiful women. He’d get back to Louret and throw himself into work and forget her, he told himself. Yet even as he promised himself to stop thinking about her, he could envision her brown eyes and her smile.

  He tried to remember his schedule for today. Yesterday he had cleared everything off his calendar because of the funeral.

  He remembered that he was going to check on their oldest small oak barrels to see what needed to be replaced. Also, they were getting new white-oak barrels, which he preferred for maturing Syrah. Those were the best barrels to create a slow oxidation of the wine to give it the finest complexity of aroma.

  He sped north through Napa up Highway 29 until he reached The Vines, the family estate. He turned onto the winding road and when the French country–style house came into view, he thought how much more charming it was, though not as large and elegant as the Ashton Estate mansion.

  Sunshine splashed over the dark-gray slate roofs and bathed the gray and white rustic stone in warm light. Dark-green shutters flanked the downstairs mullioned windows. Bright green vines winding on trellises gave the home an old-world charm. Usually the sight of the house showered a glow of satisfaction on him, but today he couldn’t shake his disappointment and annoyance over Lara’s disappearance.

  He strode inside through the pale-blue foyer, his heels scraping the bare wood floors.

  His mother, Caroline, was just heading into the family room. Dressed in pale-yellow linen slacks and a matching blouse, she looked stylish and regal, and Eli crossed the hall to brush a kiss on her cheek.

  Caroline held eighteen-month-old Jack Sheridan in her arms. Eli tried to banish thoughts of Spencer when he looked at Spencer’s illegitimate offspring. Little Jack had been as tossed aside by Spencer as Eli and his family had.

  The chubby-cheeked baby was cute and the whole family loved him. Jack held out a small stuffed bear to Eli. “Baya,” he said.

  “I see the bear,” Eli answered, ruffling Jack’s red hair. “He’s a cutie,” he said to Caroline. “Where’s Anna?”