One Secret Night

by Yvonne Lindsay

  Their attraction was dangerously addictive, her proximity here at The Masters all too enticingly near. He had to create some distance or the next few weeks would be absolute hell.

  He was surprised to see Tamsyn walking toward the winery as he and Isobel left the building.

  “Meeting go okay?” he asked as his sister drew nearer.

  “Well, we have a consensus—for today, at least,” Tamsyn said with a weary smile.

  His sister looked from him to Isobel and back again. He could see the light of an unasked question clear in her eyes and it forced him into making a decision.

  “Now that you’re back to take care of Ms. Fyfe, I’m off to see Shanal.”

  “Shanal? Today?”

  He didn’t answer Tamsyn directly but turned instead to Isobel. “Let me know if you need more information and when you plan to start shooting.”

  “Sure, thanks for your time.”

  She sounded polite, professional and as far removed from the lover whose skin he’d explored thoroughly with both his hands and his mouth as it was possible to be. And yet, despite all that, he still felt that zing of awareness when she held out her hand to shake his. The instant his hand enveloped hers he wanted to tug her toward him, wrap her in his arms and kiss her like he’d been aching to do since last night.

  As if her hand was suddenly and unbearably hot, he let her go, gave Tamsyn a nod and turned back to the winery. As delectable as Isobel Fyfe’s company had been, he wasn’t going to go there again. He’d have to be wary around her, especially given her growing friendship with Tamsyn. Could he trust her with what she knew? Could he be certain that she wouldn’t take it upon herself to share with his sister the information he wanted to keep only to himself?

  Only time would tell, he thought as he lifted his phone to his ear, the auto dial already punching through to Shanal Peat’s mobile. There was no way he could know for sure, unless he was prepared to spend day in and day out at Isobel’s side—and right now, as disconcerting as the thought had been, and as emphatic as he’d been about keeping some distance between them, it also held tantalizing appeal.

  Seven

  Isobel looked around the gathering. Friday night looked to be friends’ night at The Masters, and the swell of people stretched across the back lawn and wide veranda of the main house looked as if they were well used to the company and the surroundings. One arrival had interested her the most. The woman was an exotic beauty with mixed Indian and Australian heritage that made Isobel’s fingers itch to reach for her camera and capture the play of late-afternoon light across Shanal Peat’s exquisite features.

  She looked around for Ethan, expecting to see him here already.

  “Looking for my brother?” Tamsyn asked from beside her.

  “No, not really,” Isobel protested but even she knew the conviction in her voice was weak.

  “He’s still at the winery, although I’m sure when he hears that Shanal is here, he’ll be over. This is usually his most antisocial time of the year so I’m surprised he invited her today.” Tamsyn gave Isobel an assessing look even as she hung on the arm of a tall, leanly built man with sandy hair and blue eyes. “Unless he thinks he needs the added protection, that is.”

  “Not from me, that’s for certain,” Isobel said firmly.

  All week Tamsyn had been passing remarks about her brother and Isobel that had been laden with innuendo, and all week Isobel had been deflecting them as carefully as she could. It didn’t help that every time she’d caught a glimpse of the man in question she’d felt her heart rate speed up while a flush of heat, and something more, spread through her body. Each member of the Masters family was charming and attractive, certainly more so than any one family deserved or ought to be, but Ethan seemed to be the only one who hit her hot button.

  “Have you met my fiancé yet?” Tamsyn asked. “Trent works for a law firm in the city—too hard, I might add. Trent, this is Isobel Fyfe. She’s the photographer I was telling you about. Isobel, Trent Mayweather.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Isobel said, extending her hand.

  She was surprised when Trent only gripped the tip of her fingers and gave her a halfhearted shake. The action rankled with her and made her feel as if she was being treated as undeserving of the full force of his attention. Swiftly, she pushed her negative thoughts aside. The guy was probably only being polite and didn’t want to inflict a bone crusher on her. Besides, he was Tamsyn’s fiancé and the other woman was very clearly in love with the man at her side. There must be more to him than she was seeing at the moment. Maybe she’d just caught him at the tail end of a bad day.

  “And you,” he said in a voice as smooth as his GQ attire and expertly styled hair. “I followed your blog while you were in Africa last month. It’s great work you do there.”

  The guy jumped in her estimation.

  “Thanks. I do what I can to raise public awareness. I’m planning to head back after this assignment.”

  “But weren’t you—”

  “Invited to leave?” Isobel said with a broad smile. “Yes, but I have my methods. I’m confident I can get back and finish what I’d set out to do.”

  Trent nodded. “I admire your tenacity. I don’t think I’d be as brave.”

  “Actually, bravery doesn’t really enter into it,” she replied. “I’m sure you have situations in your work where you’re not prepared to back down, no matter the incentive to do so.”

  “You’re right,” he conceded. “Although the danger levels are perhaps a little less obvious in the Supreme Court.”

  Isobel laughed at his dry observation but the mirth dried in her throat as she caught sight of Ethan arriving and making a beeline directly for the beautiful Shanal Peat. As she watched, the other woman’s sea-green eyes lit up at the new arrival and her mobile lips curved into a smile of welcome. Isobel couldn’t ignore the stab of envy that pierced her as Ethan smiled with genuine warmth at Shanal and bent to kiss those lips. She turned her back on the happy reunion and focused anew on something Trent was saying. The last thing she wanted to do was be a voyeur...the second to last thing she wanted was to admit to herself why it bothered her so much to see Ethan up close and personal with another woman.

  She’d seen very little of him this week. She’d heard he’d been busy with the ferments and coordinating the cellar work, plus a Shiraz harvest from a vineyard outside the home estate, and he hadn’t even made it to dinner each evening. In fact, she’d heard more than enough about his day-to-day activities from Tamsyn whenever the opportunity arose. Now, finally in the same room with him again, every cell in her body urged her to turn around, to drink in the sight of him, to try and quell the yearning desire that simmered in her body and colored every moment of every day she was here.

  Sure, he was overbearing and a bit on the authoritative side. In most guys that was just too much. But in Ethan, especially here, in his home patch, it was simply who he was—like it or not. Each family member had their own area of expertise, was in charge of their own minibusiness within the whole that was The Masters, yet all deferred to Ethan in their own way. Clearly, with the death of his father, he’d become the head of the family and now, having seen the family, she realized what a massive responsibility lay on his broad shoulders. It explained a lot about his attitude. Growing up he must have always known he’d be in charge one day. He was the type to relish that responsibility rather than shirk or shy away from it. And from the looks of things, he’d taken his duty to protect the family very seriously—especially when it came to protecting his sister from the risk of getting hurt.

  Tamsyn and Trent made their excuses to Isobel and drifted away to welcome another newcomer, and Isobel gave in to her need to turn around. For a moment she felt as if she was adrift as Ethan was not in her immediate line of sight. But then she caught the sound of his voice, his laughter,
and tracked him down.

  Her insides melted at the sound of his laugh. It was rich and full and unabashed in its joy. Again, that pang of envy speared her as she realized that it was Shanal who was the cause of his mirth. It seemed she was the only one here who was capable of lightening his dark countenance and showing another side to this multifaceted man.

  It was a good thing she was only here for another few weeks, Isobel thought with a small shiver that was in direct contrast to the warmth thrown out by several gas heaters positioned around the property. Any more of this torment and she’d be a blithering wreck by the time she left. She didn’t belong here, with this well-established family and their well-established life. Nothing drove that point home like seeing the kind of woman that Ethan Masters so clearly wanted by his side. Everything about her, from her polished appearance to her quiet, flawless manners, to her easy and clearly well-established familiarity with Ethan’s family members was in direct contrast with Isobel.

  It was rare that Isobel found herself wanting. She’d never lacked for confidence before, but somehow, in this crowd, she realized that despite all her protestations to the contrary, some things had definitely been missing from her life, and this full sense of family and belonging were among them.

  * * *

  Ethan looked up from his conversation with Shanal and found Isobel looking directly at them. Looking, but not seeing. Her eyes were unfocused, her expression empty of her usual vivacity. Briefly, he wondered what was wrong, before something Shanal said dragged his attention back again. But it wasn’t long before his eyes lifted again, searching the gathering for Isobel’s cap of light blond hair.

  He saw her over by the table on the veranda that was now groaning with food. She had a plate but even from this distance he could see she barely had anything on it. His protective instincts rose to the fore.

  “Um, Ethan? Are you still listening to me?” Shanal asked with a smile on her face.

  He looked at her, struck anew by the perfect symmetry of her face and her exotic coloring. She had to be the most beautiful woman he knew, and probably the most intelligent at the same time. And yet... His gaze flicked to Isobel before he forced himself to respond to his guest.

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a busy few days,” he said with an apologetic smile.

  “And going to get busier, too, I imagine,” she replied, laying a hand on his arm to show she accepted his apology. “Which reminds me, I can’t stay too late tonight. I need to check on some data I’m collating on the new strain of organic seed stock.”

  “We’d better hit the buffet then. We can’t let you go home hungry.”

  They walked arm in arm to the veranda and Ethan was struck by how comfortable he felt with Shanal. After all, they’d known each other since their first week at university, had even shared an apartment together for a while. The ease he felt in her company made him sure about his decision to court her and hopefully, eventually, marry her. Although that ease also made him wonder about the lack of chemistry between them. They were a pair of healthy adults in the prime of their lives. Shouldn’t there be something there?

  He mentally shrugged the question away. There’d be time enough for that in the future. For now he was content to know that being with Shanal didn’t leave him constantly on edge, or worse, constantly in a state of arousal that shattered his legendary concentration and focus and made him crave things that had no place in his life. Things? No, not things—a person. More specifically, Isobel Fyfe.

  She was at the end of the veranda, a pashmina slung with casual elegance around her shoulders, while she talked to Zac Peters, Tamsyn’s assistant and the brainchild for the marketing side of The Masters. Isobel listened intently to something Zac said, and he wondered what it was that held her attention so keenly. It was probably the most still he’d ever seen her and the fall of her straight hair almost completely shielded her face, hiding its mobile expressiveness and adding to the impression of stillness. As he looked, he remembered how that hair was soft and silky and felt like a million dollars as it stroked over his skin. He uttered an involuntary groan.

  “You okay?” Shanal asked, her brow creased with concern.

  “I’m fine,” he hastened to assure her, but he was anything but.

  Just like that, Isobel had woven her way past his defenses again. The woman was addictive and it seemed the harder he tried to resist her allure, the more he was drawn to her. Maybe that was it. Maybe he just needed to get her out of his system. He’d always sneered when he’d heard people tell of that before, but now he had an inkling as to how they felt. The compulsion to follow through on his thoughts was like a match to dry straw.

  He shepherded Shanal to the opposite end of the veranda, where Isobel wouldn’t be in his line of sight and gave his attention to the woman he, in all honesty, was most relaxed with. They were friends, good friends, and it was time to see if they could move their friendship up to the next level. It was about an hour later that Shanal looked at her watch.

  “I’d better be on my way. Thank you so much for including me this evening. It’s been lovely. I always enjoy your company.”

  “As I do yours,” Ethan said, injecting his voice with more feeling than usual. He laid a hand at the small of Shanal’s back. “Here, let me see you to your car.”

  They walked around the side of the house to the main driveway, which was lined with visitors’ cars. He stopped by Shanal’s practical silver compact. Imported, stylish and elegant, the car was like her in many ways. Chic but not fussy. Attractive but not over the top. She unlocked the doors with a press of her remote and Ethan reached to open her door for her. Before she could get in, however, he gathered her closer and leaned down to kiss her. The press of their lips was fleeting, pleasant but certainly not ground shaking, and it was over almost before it had begun with Shanal being the first to pull away.

  “Thanks again for tonight,” she said, ducking her head as she got into the car. “I had a really lovely time.”

  “Me, too,” Ethan said. “How about dinner later next week?”

  “Sure. I’m not certain how my diary is looking but give me a call, okay?”

  And then she was gone. As he watched her car wind along the driveway and toward the main road he wondered if he was indeed doing the right thing by deciding to shift the course of their friendship. He mulled the question over as he walked back to the gathering. Isobel was the first person he saw as he rounded the side of the house and that zing of awareness poured through his veins.

  How was it that he could feel more for a woman like Isobel Fyfe than for Shanal, who he’d known for almost half of his life? For the rest of the get-together the answer eluded him. Still, it kept tickling at the back of his mind as he went through the motions of circulating through the guests he hadn’t spoken with yet and spending a little time with each family member to catch up on their days.

  It was nearing midnight when the last of the guests had finally driven off. He knew he should go up to bed, tomorrow was going to be another demanding day. Instead, he found his feet were tracking quietly along the path toward Isobel’s cottage. He hadn’t seen her leave, but he’d heard from Tamsyn that she’d helped with clearing things away to the kitchen before slipping off after saying good-night. Had she been avoiding him? Probably, and with good reason if she’d been suffering the same form of physical discomfort as he had these past few days. Or maybe she was taking him at his word. Staying away from him exactly as he’d asked. Asked? Who was he kidding?

  It was sheer madness going to see her now, but it was something he knew he had to do. Perhaps if he confronted the pull drawing him to her, he could lay the demons of his attraction to her to rest once and for all. A voice inside him laughed. Who was he kidding? He wanted her like he’d wanted no other woman ever before. Desire drummed in his blood, a constant reminder of what they’d once shared. What he wanted to share wi
th her again. Anonymous, meaningless release. But could it be that still? She was no longer the complete stranger she’d been the evening they’d met.

  Before he knew it he was at the entrance to her cottage, his hand poised and ready to knock. He could leave now. She’d never know he was here. If he did, there’d be no recriminations come morning. No regrets.

  He knocked at the door.

  Eight

  Ethan filled the doorway, framed in the soft light that bathed the front entrance.

  “Ethan? What—?”

  Isobel never got to finish her question. Her answer, such as it was, was immediate in the envelopment of his arms, and the searing, questing fierceness of his kiss. Her arms instinctively reached up, her hands linking at the back of his neck and holding him to her. Her feet arching onto tiptoes so she could meet him on a more level ground. Her body aligning with his, softness against muscle. And it felt so good.

  She hadn’t realized until right this moment just how much she’d craved him. Wanted his strength, desired his touch, needed his possession.

  Dimly, Isobel was aware of being buoyed backward, of the solid thud of the wooden door closing behind Ethan’s back, but then her senses filled once more with him—gloriously, excitedly overflowing with anticipation and eagerness.

  Their lips were still joined, their tongues engaged in a sensual dance of remembrance.

  He dragged his mouth away, resting his forehead against her own, his breathing ragged and raw.

  “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll go.”

  She bracketed his face with her hands and looked deep into his dark brown eyes, eyes that glowed with passion and need.

  “I want you,” she said softly.