by Helen Lacey
“And you believe that I didn’t sleep with you out of some ulterior motive?”
“Yes.”
Stupidly relieved, and just plain old stupid, Fiona wondered if they made bigger fools than her. “Good. Although, I’m curious about something. If you suspected I wasn’t genuine, why did you say you wanted to spend last night with me?”
“I’m a jerk, not a rock. I enjoy making love with you, Fiona.”
Except love has nothing to do with it. If he imagined her capable of manipulating him in such a way, he couldn’t possibly feel anything other than desire, could he?
Thankfully, they pulled into a driveway and he announced they’d arrived at their destination. A huge gated arch loomed overhead and the words Mariah Downs were etched onto the timber in fancy writing. There were dozens of cars parked along the road and more vehicles closer to the huge home, which looked as if it had been plucked from a Southern plantation from years gone by. Once they reached the valet parking attendant, Fiona grabbed her bag and stepped from the car. It was still light and she watched as people arrived from a few directions, dressed up and ready to make an impression.
Wyatt handed the keys to the valet and grasped her elbow. “Let’s go inside.”
He explained that what was once a residence had been beautifully transformed into a working vineyard and luxury hotel. A curling staircase led upstairs, and the ballroom was large enough to accommodate several hundred people.
“It’s amazing,” she said as they walked across the foyer.
“The original owners were French and held most of the land around here. It was turned into a hotel about thirty years ago and has changed hands a few times since then. A friend of mine owns it now and has steadily restored the building and the vineyard in the last five years. It should start producing wine again in the next year or so. We usually hold this event in the city, but when Ellen suggested Mariah Downs, we all agreed.”
The magnificent entrance, the huge staircase—Fiona’s mind went into overdrive. It was exactly the kind of place she’d imagined in her secret dreams—the dreams where she was a bride and about to marry the man she loved. It was, she realized, the perfect setting for a wedding. In a flash of a second, she saw it all clearly—the beautiful white gown, Callie and Evie attending her, Cecily in a pale satin dress. And Wyatt...waiting at the altar and watching as she walked toward him.
He was looking at her, and she wondered if he saw the longing in her eyes. No...of course not. He couldn’t possibly guess her secret dreams.
“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.
Fiona wanted to shake off her silly fantasies, but the idea lingered. “That would be a lovely place to get...well, to get...”
“Married?”
She stared up at him and got drawn deeper into his gaze. “Yes.”
He took her hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “And is that what you want?”
Fiona’s breath caught in her throat. “Someday...I guess.”
His eyes never left hers. “Someday soon?”
She shrugged her bare shoulders, almost dying inside. “I have to find myself a groom first.”
He smiled and her. “I suppose that’s usually the way it works.”
If she wasn’t so completely in love with him, Fiona would have laughed at his teasing.
Instead, she shook off her fantasies, managed a smile and moved her hand from his. “We should go inside.”
He nodded and took her elbow again before leading her toward the door. Fiona faltered in the doorway and looked around. There were at least thirty large round tables in the ballroom, covered in stark white cloths and laid out with fine crystal and tableware. At the front of the room was a small stage and podium, and there were already a couple of hundred people milling around the tables, some sitting, some talking in groups. The men were dressed in tuxedos or suit and tie. The women wore an array of outfits, from classic ball gowns in satin and flowing organza to more modern cocktail-length dresses.
She couldn’t help but notice how people hushed as they walked by. “People are staring.”
Wyatt smiled and ushered her forward. “Because you look so beautiful. Relax and enjoy yourself.”
She smiled back. But she knew the reason for the stares. This was the Harper Engineering charity dinner, and Wyatt was Harper Engineering. And she was his date. No wonder he’d forked out for the dress. He’d probably imagined she’d turn up in worn riding breeches and a grass-stained T-shirt.
By the time they were midway across the room, she heard Cecily’s familiar voice calling her name. Her daughter was beside her in seconds. “This is our table,” she said excitedly and pointed to a table at the front. “You’re next to me. Uncle Wyatt’s on the other side, of course.”
Her joyous grin was incredibly infectious, and Fiona moved away from Wyatt for a moment and kissed Cecily affectionately.
“Shall we sit down, then?” Fiona suggested when she spotted Janet already sitting beside Alessio and Ellen. She managed a tiny wave and Janet gave her a discreet thumbs-up.
“I think you have to cruise the room first,” Cecily said. “You know, ’cause you’re Uncle Wyatt’s date. And Pop will be making a speech soon.”
True enough, Wyatt returned to her side. “Walk with me,” he said and skillfully maneuvered her around the room. The consummate host, he worked the room and spent close to half an hour moving from one table to the next. Fiona was introduced to more people than she would ever remember, with Wyatt quietly explaining who they were before they reached each table. From workers at the main fabrication factory to mid- and high-level management, directors, colleagues, business associates and their respective spouses and several beneficiaries, he showed no preference and simply charmed everyone they spoke with.
By the time they returned to their table, most of the other tables were filled. The lights dimmed fractionally as Linc took the podium and welcomed everyone to the event.
“You did great,” Wyatt whispered close to her ear. She felt his breath against her skin and shivered. “Now that’s over, you can relax and have a good time. And collect your check for the school,” he added and winked. “Although, now the whole room knows you’re with me tonight, I’ll probably be accused of preferential treatment.”
Fiona hadn’t considered that. “If you’d rather not—”
“I’m joking, sweetheart. People can think what they like. Relax and have some fun.”
Sweetheart. Fiona almost swooned. Did women actually swoon anymore?
Wyatt ordered her a drink, and the room hushed as Linc began talking about the Harper charity fund and explained how the moneys raised through events like the dinner was used. From the school canteen in Crystal Point to new recliners in the pediatric ward at a hospital, every cent was accounted for. Linc spoke with pride at their achievements and cracked fractionally when he announced the creation of an educational scholarship developed in memory of Karen Harper Todd.
The family was clearly immersed in memories. Alessio had an arm draped around his wife’s shoulder; Janet and Rae sat close. Fiona grabbed Cecily’s hand and squeezed, sensing her daughter needed her strength as Linc talked about Karen. Unsure about open displays of comfort and affection, she placed her other hand on Wyatt’s leg beneath the table.
When Linc was done, the audience applauded. Fiona removed her hand from Wyatt’s thigh and released Cecily. There would be presentations later, but for now the first course was being served. The scallops sautéed in a decadent, creamy sauce were divine.
“Is everything okay?” Wyatt asked quietly as Fiona lingered over her food.
“Oh, yes. Delicious.”
He looked at her mouth. “Mmm, it is.”
“Almost as good as that spicy chicken you brought to my house, remember?”
“I remember.�
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“That night seems like such a long time ago.”
“Do you think?” He leaned in closer. “You know, I almost kissed you that night.”
“No way.”
“Way. I wanted to.”
She smiled. “That’s why you left in a hurry?”
“Yep.”
Fiona’s heart contracted. They’d come a long way since that evening. “I probably would have kissed you back.”
“Too bad for me, then,” he said, closer now. “You can make it up to me later,” he said and proceeded to spear the scallop she was toying with. He raised the fork to her mouth, and after a second’s hesitation, she took the bite.
The move was oddly intimate, and Fiona didn’t miss the surprised looks from the family, Janet and Ellen in particular. She ignored her embarrassment and focused on her meal. By the time the plates had been cleared, Linc had returned to the stage and began the first of several presentations. Fiona’s was the third name to be announced, and she collected the check on behalf of the school. She kept her thank-you speech short, mentioning the Harper family and how much the support meant to her small school.
When the presentations were over, the second course arrived. Supremely conscious of the man beside her and of the fact that they were being scrutinized by countless pairs of eyes, Fiona did her best to concentrate on her food and respond to her daughter’s animated chatter. But she could feel their curiosity in bucket loads. Did they approve of her? Did she measure up as Cecily’s mother...or as Wyatt’s...whatever?
By dessert she was so wound up she barely tasted the raspberry brûlée.
“Something wrong?”
He’d asked quietly and she raised her shoulders. “Do you do this kind of thing a lot?”
“Eat? I try to squeeze it into my daily routine.”
Fiona let his lame humor pass. “I mean these events...the dressed-up, everyone-primped-and-looking-beautiful kind of thing?”
“Once a year,” he replied. “Why?”
“I feel a bit out of my league. I’m a no-frills sort of person and—”
“You’re easily the most beautiful woman in the room,” he said, silencing her effectively. “But I understand what you’re saying. I do this because it’s important to my father. It’s his night, really. He’s always been the philanthropist in the family, and even more so since he’s retired.”
“You took over the business at a young age?”
“At twenty-four. Dad had suffered his second heart attack. So, I stepped in and he gradually handed over the reins.”
“Did you ever want to do anything else?”
“Sure, I would have liked to work outside of the company a little longer than I did, simply for experience. But it wasn’t to be. Harper’s is third generation. As you can see from tonight, a lot of people rely on the business for their livelihood. We employ hundreds of staff and contractors, and if the company went down, a whole lot of people would go down with it. Including everyone at this table.”
It seemed like a monumental responsibility. She’d never doubted he worked hard, but understanding why spiked her admiration. And her love. He really was a remarkable man. Fiona experienced a strong surge of feeling. Her eyes clouded, longing grew, need for him uncurled low in her belly and in her heart.
“You know,” he said softly, for her ears only, “if you keep looking at me like that, I might have to book a room at this hotel tonight.”
It sounded like a blissful idea. “I’d like that.”
Wyatt’s insides were jumping all over the place. She looked as if she knew him. Really. Deeply. In ways he’d only imagined existed. His chest tightened as he recognized the intensity of his own feelings. Every part of him was attuned to her, aware of her on a level he’d never experienced before. He wanted her. Longed for her. Needed her. And it shocked him to the core.
He hadn’t truly needed anyone before.
He almost blurted it out. Almost. He needed time to process. To think. To figure out what came next.
Wyatt remembered his glib comments before they’d entered the ballroom, about marriage and weddings. She’d looked hurt by his remarks. He hated that he’d done that. Hurting Fiona was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Fiona,” he said quietly. “There’s something we should talk about. I need to tell you how I—”
“Fiona?”
It was Cecily’s voice that interrupted him. He watched as his niece grabbed her mother’s arm and gently pulled her around in the chair. They spoke for a second in hushed voices before Fiona briefly turned back toward him.
“Would you excuse us?” she said as she stood.
Wyatt glanced at his niece, who looked unusually serious all of a sudden. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
Fiona shook her head as she ushered Cecily to her feet. Now wasn’t the time to explain Cecily thought she had her period. “Girl stuff. Won’t be long.”
Fiona calmed Cecily down the moment they got into the powder room and gave her daughter a gentle talk about preparedness and keeping a diary to ensure she avoided any unexpected mishaps regarding her monthly cycle. Once Cecily had headed off into the cubicle, Fiona touched up her lip gloss. Several other women came and went, most smiling, and one commented on the loveliness of her gown.
Waiting for her daughter, she felt like a mother in the truest sense of the word, thankful she had what Cecily needed tucked in her purse, even though her own cycle was like clockwork.
Except...
Fiona stilled. Clockwork. Always.
Except this month. She did a quick mental calculation.
Oh, God. I’m late.
Not by much. A few days. Five at the most. But enough to get her thinking. Enough to get her worried.
Could I really be pregnant?
Fiona considered other possible signs. Sure, she had a few headaches. And her stomach had played up once or twice. But she’d put that down to nerves and anxiety.
A baby? Wyatt’s baby?
The notion filled her with both apprehension and joy. They’d been mindful of protection every time they’d made love. There was, of course, that time in the kitchen when they’d improvised. And once in the shower they’d almost forgotten before it was too late.
But...pregnant? And if she were having Wyatt’s baby, what would it do to their relationship? He wanted to go slowly. On the drive to the dinner, he’d questioned her motives. Would he suspect she’d gotten pregnant to trap him? And Cecily? How could she expect her daughter to understand? If she were pregnant, she would absolutely have the baby. No question about that. But how would she explain to her daughter her intention to keep this baby, when she’d given her away?
“So, you’re Wyatt’s new squeeze?”
Fiona snapped out of her baby trance and jerked her head around. A woman stood by the sink. Tall and thin, she had raven-black hair and brown eyes—the word exotic came instantly to mind. Her black gown amplified her svelte body. She couldn’t recall being introduced to the other woman.
“Excuse me?”
“Wyatt. Tall, rich, ridiculously good-looking and great in bed—of course you know who I mean. He is quite the catch. And the family certainly looks like they approve. I’ve never seen Janet smile so much. Even the frosty-faced Ellen seems to agree.” She clapped her hands a couple of times. “Well done, you.”
Fiona’s instincts kindled and she had a sudden bad feeling. “Do I know you?”
“By reputation, I’m sure.”
Uh-oh. Her burgeoning suspicions were confirmed when Cecily came out from the cubicle. “What are you doing here, Yvette?”
“Don’t stress, kid—I didn’t crash the party,” she said, sounding almost bored. “I paid for my ticket like everyone else.” She looked toward Fiona. “My father does business with Wyat
t. We have a table.”
“Uncle Wyatt wouldn’t want you here,” Cecily said and stepped a little closer toward Fiona.
“Well, Uncle Wyatt doesn’t always get what he wants.”
Cecily pushed back her shoulders. “Leave my...leave Fiona alone.”
Bless her, Fiona thought, but knew it was time to take charge. “Come on, let’s get back to our table.”
The other woman’s eyes widened, and she raised her brows as her gaze flicked from one to the other. “Oh, of course, I get it now. The same red hair, the same freckles. You’re the mysterious birth mother?”
Fiona grasped Cecily’s arms and urged her toward the door. “There’s nothing mysterious about me at all. Now, if you’ll excuse us?”
“Has poor Karen been replaced already?”
Cecily gasped. “You can just go and—”
“That’s enough, Cecily,” Fiona said and steered her forward. “Go back to the table. I’ll be along in a moment.”
Her daughter shook her head. “But I can’t leave you—”
“Go,” she insisted. Once Cecily disappeared through the doorway, Fiona turned her attention completely toward the other woman. “If you must be a spiteful witch, I’d appreciate if you didn’t do it in front of my daughter.”
Fiona took a fortifying breath, brushed past her and walked out the door.
But the other woman clearly wasn’t finished with her yet.
When she was out of the powder room and on her way back to the ballroom, Yvette came up beside her quickly and spoke again. “Oh, don’t get all lioness on me... I didn’t mean to upset the kid. I always liked Cecily. Thank God she’s nothing like her mother.” She looked at Fiona and shrugged. “I meant her other mother. Looks like you landed nicely on your feet, though. Cecily and Wyatt in one swoop of your net. I admire your tactics. You’re pretty and smart—no wonder Wyatt can’t keep his eyes off you. I’ve been watching you from my dark little corner of the room.” Then her gaze narrowed. “It won’t last, you know.”
Fiona knew there was little point in rattling the other woman’s cage, knew the best thing to do was continue walking, but she couldn’t suppress the rising anger in her blood. She stood perfectly still on her heels. “What did you say?”
