When he finally raised his head, he didn’t know if it was the wine or the kiss that made his body feel as if it glowed like a beacon.
“Mmm.” She lifted a hand to her lips and moved back a little, and he dropped his arms.
For a long while, they stood there, looking at each other, Fred with her fingers pressed to her mouth.
Eventually, she said, “I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have done that.”
His heart sank at the thought that she already regretted the kiss, but he forced himself to smile. “It’s all right. It was nice. Don’t worry about it.”
“I should go to bed.”
“Yeah. Come on. I’ll walk you to the B&B.”
In silence, they entered the gate and crossed the garden to the door. He stopped there, and rested a hand on her arm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Mac...”
He waited. Her brow had furrowed, and she looked as if she was trying to think what to say, and failing.
“It’s all right,” he said again, and touched her cheek. “It was a shared moment, that’s all.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t stress about it. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Lowering his hand, he turned and headed off for the house. Scully waited a second, then trotted after him.
He didn’t look back.
NORMALLY, IF HE DRANK a whole bottle of wine on his own, which wasn’t very often, he went to bed, fell asleep, and woke when it was light. Tonight, even though his head felt stuffed with cotton wool and his eyes were heavy, he couldn’t get to sleep. He lay awake until the sky was completely dark and filled with stars, and all the while, his mind was full of Winifred Cartwright, and her gentle kiss.
Chapter Twelve
THE NEXT MORNING, FRED walked into the dining room, somewhat bleary eyed, to find the table laid with bowls and spoons and several kinds of cereal, a big pitcher of milk, a jug of hot coffee, and a note.
Morning, it read
I’ll be in the barrel hall—Fred, can you come and see me when you’ve eaten?
Mac.
Concise and to the point, she thought, sliding into a seat before placing her head in her hands and closing her eyes.
She couldn’t believe she’d kissed him. Jeez. How drunk had she been? Normally, she wasn’t the sort of person to do stupid things after a few glasses of wine—she’d never been one of those people who couldn’t remember what they’d done.
But she’d kissed him. She’d kissed him! It wasn’t even as if she could blame him for grabbing her and giving her no choice in the matter. It had happened slowly, like the rising of the moon, and in a way that had caught her in a spell, until it had seemed as if there was no other way the evening could end.
Her mind kept playing back the way he’d stroked her hair, then brushed her cheek, and how he’d slid his other hand around her waist and pulled her toward him with just the right amount of pressure to be enticingly demanding without being forceful.
But it was a mistake to have given in to the desire that had sparked between them. She’d been lonely, and he’d been convenient, that was all.
She sat back in her chair and bit her lip. That wasn’t fair. It implied she’d have kissed any guy who happened to be walking by her side last night, and that wasn’t true at all. There was definitely something between them, a simmering attraction she’d kept behind bars like a bird of paradise, and the wine had allowed her to undo the cage and let it fly free for a while.
But there was too much at stake for her to let the bird free forever. She couldn’t afford to complicate matters by getting involved with Mac. For a start, she barely knew him, and even though she didn’t blame him for what his father had done, and even though she was convinced character flaws weren’t handed down from parent to child, nevertheless, he was James MacDonald’s son, and she had to be careful.
And not only that, she didn’t want to ruin their business relationship. He obviously knew his stuff where winemaking was concerned, and she needed his help if she was going to make a go of the place.
It was a big if, because she still had no idea whether her sisters would want to stay, but until they decided what they were going to do, she had to keep her distance from him.
She tipped some cereal into a bowl, added milk, and ate it while looking out at the garden, thinking about how nice the place would look if given a little TLC. She’d buy a book on New Zealand plants and flowers, and spend some time at the garden center they’d passed on the way out of the bay. In the U.K., her garden had been tiny, just a square patch of lawn with a couple of hanging baskets, but here she’d be able to use her imagination and really make it into something.
If she stayed.
Sighing, she finished her cereal, took the bowl into the kitchen, and washed it up, along with the wine glasses of the night before. Then she returned to the dining room, poured herself a cup of coffee, and headed out. There was no point in trying to put it off—she had to see Mac at some point. Better to get it over with and straighten things out now.
The sky had filled with puffy white clouds and the air had cooled a little. Autumn was definitely on its way. She shivered in her thin shirt, reminding herself to grab her jacket next time, and crossed to the barrel hall.
Scully sat outside the building, and Fred bent to greet her, smiling as the dog licked her hand. Then she pushed open the door and went inside. She saw him immediately, talking to one of the guys who worked on the crushers. Her stomach fluttered, but she forced herself to walk across the tiled floor toward him until she caught his attention.
She didn’t miss the way his face lit up when he saw her. She stopped, and he smiled and nodded, then said something to the man he was talking to before walking over to her.
“Come outside,” he said before she could speak.
Biting her lip, she followed him out of the door and into the cool air, and they walked away from the buildings, toward the vines, Scully at their side.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Okay, not too bad, surprisingly.” She sipped her coffee. His arm was only an inch from hers, and she felt acutely conscious of his bare brown skin. She wanted to reach out and touch it, wanted to stare up into his eyes the way she had the night before, to see that look in them that heated her from her toes to the roots of her hair.
She kept her gaze fixed on the ground though. “Mac, about last night, you know it was a mistake, right?”
“I know that it probably wasn’t wise, considering who my father was and what he did.”
She glanced at him then. “I’m not saying—”
“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to worry about it, especially considering that I have an idea I want to put to you.”
“Oh?”
“About the vineyard.”
“Oh, right.” She’d been waiting for this, for him to offer to buy her out. That first night, he’d admitted, If you were to offer it to me, I’d buy it. Even though he’d said he’d be happy just being the estate manager, knowing that the girls couldn’t afford to revamp the place would surely make him start thinking about buying them out.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I thought of this on day one, but dismissed it as stupid. But I keep thinking about it, so I’m going to say it. Just tell me I’m an idiot if you think it’s daft.”
Fred frowned. “All right...”
“Marry me,” he said.
She stared at him. “What?”
“Marry me. To save the vineyard.”
Her heart began to thump hard. “Are you serious?”
“I’m perfectly serious. You’ll get access to your inheritance, and it’ll go a good way to renewing some of the equipment and getting the vineyard back on its feet.”
Her jaw dropped. “Did last night give you this idea?”
“No. Forget about last night, Fred. We were drunk—I know it didn’t mean anything. This will be strictly business.”
“The knowledge that I’ll be doing something to put right the terrible things that my father has done.”
“By getting yourself hitched?”
His lips quirked up. “It’s a small price to pay.”
“I... Mac!”
He laughed then. “Forget about the kiss,” he said softly. “I’m sorry it happened—well, to be honest, I’m not sorry about the kiss itself because I enjoyed it—but I am sorry that I took advantage of you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You didn’t take advantage of me.” She bumped her shoulder against him. “Come on, we both know that. It’s just... at the moment...”
“Yeah. So, as I said. Forget about the kiss. It’ll be strictly business. Nothing personal. It’ll just be a contract, our names on a bit of paper. Unfortunately, in New Zealand you have to live apart for two years to get divorced, that’s the only thing. If you find your Mr. Right down in the bay, you wouldn’t be able to marry him for two years.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled from her lips. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
She stopped at the edge of the vines and turned to face him. His eyes were wide and clear.
“You really mean it,” she whispered.
“I do. But you don’t have to decide now. Take some time to think about it. Talk it over with the girls. I know Ginger will probably say you’re crazy to even think about it.” His lips twisted. “But it’s a genuine offer.”
“Is part of the deal that I keep you on as estate manager?”
He shook his head. “There’s no deal, Fred. No caveats or addendums. You know I love it here, and I’d like to stay and work with you to make this place the best vineyard in the Northland. I really think it could be something spectacular. But I understand that you might be wary about keeping me on, and I wouldn’t blame you if you decided you’d rather have someone else.”
“It’s so incredibly generous of you...” She felt bewildered, her brain struggling to comprehend his offer.
“Maybe it’ll give you some insight into how bad I feel about what my father did.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Anyway, I’d better get back to the barrel hall.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Maybe we’ll talk again later?”
“Sure.”
“All right.” He held her gaze for a moment, then smiled. “I know it must be hard for you to trust anyone at the moment. And I know I kissed you last night. But I mean it when I say this would be strictly business. I’m not trying to force anything onto you. You could draw up whatever pre-nup you liked, put whatever conditions in you wanted. I just want...” He hesitated. “I just want to put things right.”
“I know.”
He nodded, and turned away, walking back toward the barrel hall. Scully stayed by her side for the moment, looking up at her, and then trotted after him.
She watched him go, her throat tightening. She was lucky to have her sisters, and both Ginger and Sandi would do anything for her. But she’d never had someone on her side like this. Someone who was putting her first, almost above his own needs.
Then she shook her head, frowning. She mustn’t look at this with starry eyes. His suggestion wasn’t entirely altruistic. There was no such thing as a completely selfless act. He felt bad about what his father had done, and wanted to make himself feel better.
But there were other, easier ways for him to do that, surely? He could have offered to buy her out. But he’d chosen not to do that, because he wanted her to have the vineyard.
Why?
She started to walk slowly back to the house. He’d known Harry Cartwright for a long time, she reminded herself. And he was a Kiwi, with ties to the bay. He loved it here, and he respected the fact that it was her family’s land. But even so... Could he really be that noble? Did anyone have principles like that anymore?
Deep in thought, she entered the B&B and went into the dining room, not surprised to see both of her sisters at the breakfast table, tucking into cereal and coffee while they talked.
“Fred!” Sandi gestured at the food with a spoon. “Did you lay this out?”
“No, it was Mac.” She sat at the end of the table and refilled her coffee cup.
“So...” Ginger said, obviously continuing a previous conversation, “Amber said her brother supplies all the fish and seafood for Fantails, which is the best restaurant in Paihia, and some of the cafés. He’d be a great contact for my seafood platter. Just imagine—Thai lime and chili prawns, spicy oysters, scallops, the huge green-lipped mussels you get here, fish bites, smoked salmon, and little bowls of dips—garlic aioli, lemon mayonnaise, seafood cocktail. It would be fantastic and would go great with the Pinot Gris, or even the Merlot, anything without heavy tannins.”
Fred was impressed that Ginger had thought about pairing the food with the wine. Her sister’s eyes were alight with enthusiasm, something she hadn’t seen for many months since all the problems with Jack and the restaurant.
“So you still like the idea of staying here?” she asked.
“I do,” Ginger said without hesitation. “Of course I do. We talked so much about this place, and it’s far better than I imagined. I’d love to stay and make a go of it. At least try. But we’ve all got to agree.”
Fred nodded and turned to her other sister. “What about you?”
“I think it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been,” Sandi said quietly. “I know I’m going to be biased because it’s ours, but I still can’t really believe it. We own this estate? That amazes me. If someone were to try to drag me away, I’d hang onto it with my fingertips. I know it’s small—four rooms isn’t much to play with—but it’s more magical, I think, because of that. I’d make the rooms perfect, and work with Ginger to offer amazing breakfasts, and then I’d also work on the pool area and the garden... there’s so much we could do. But Ginger’s right. We all have to agree, and it’s not going to be much fun if we run out of money before we’ve even gotten started.”
“Well, I might have an answer to that,” Fred said. She watched her sisters’ eyebrows rise and scratched her nose. “Mac’s asked me to marry him.”
Chapter Thirteen
“WAIT,” GINGER SAID. “What?”
Sandi’s eyes couldn’t have opened any wider. “You’re kidding me?”
“Nope.” Fred was enjoying the effect of her news now her own shock had worn off a little. “He proposed to me this morning.”
“What... how... why...” Ginger couldn’t seem to form a sentence.
“Do you... love him?” Sandi looked bewildered.
That made Fred laugh. “No! I’ve only known him two days. Look, he suggested it as a business deal, to save the vineyard. I’d be able to get my hands on the fifty grand, which would go a good way to starting us off on the right foot. Imagine what we could do with fifty thousand dollars!”
“Yes, but... marriage? It’s a bit... extreme,” Sandi said.
“It’s mental,” Ginger added. “I’m guessing you turned him down straightaway?”
Fred turned her mug around in her hands. “No. In fact, I’m considering it.”
If Ginger was a cartoon character, her eyes would have fallen out of her head and rolled along the table. “Fred!”
“Look, I was as shocked as you when he first said the words, but he’s right, it makes perfect sense.” The more Fred thought about it, the more sense it made. “It’s just a contract, a signature on a bit of paper.”
“No, it’s not.” Sandi looked suddenly upset. “Since when did we take marriage so lightly?”
“Since our father left all our money tied up in that stupid clause,” Fred snapped. “This is the twenty-first century, not the nineteenth. He had no right to place such constrictions on our inheritance, and I’m not going to feel bad for not taking it seriously.”
“Would it even work, legally?” Ginger asked. “I mean, would t
he lawyers accept the marriage if it was so obviously contrived? They will realize it’s just a set up to get the money, wouldn’t they?”
“Mr. Lyttle joked about it, don’t you remember?” Fred referred to their lawyer in the U.K. “He actually said we ought to go out and grab a guy off the street. All they will care about is the signed document, I’m sure of it. I’d check, of course, before we tied the knot, but I’m certain it won’t matter. How are they to know we haven’t fallen in love in a week and decided to get married, anyway?”
Her two sisters studied her, Sandi worried, Ginger bemused.
“I haven’t said yes yet,” Fred said softly. It was important to her to get their approval on this. “But it would be a business deal, Mac made that very clear. And in that sense, it’s part of the pact we made when we came out here. If either of you is dead set against this, I won’t do it. But I want us to discuss it with our heads, not our hearts. This isn’t about love or forever—it’s a way to access the money, that’s all.”
She mustn’t think about his broad shoulders. About the intriguing tattoo that curled around his arm, how his muscular body gleamed when he worked in the warm sunshine, or how his ocean-blue eyes heated her from the inside out.
She mustn’t think about the stolen kiss, the way he’d slipped his arm around her waist to pull her against him. The soft touch of his lips on hers.
“It would be strictly business,” she reiterated, to convince herself as much as her sisters.
“Hmm,” Ginger said. “I saw the way he looked at you.”
“Bullshit.” Fred’s face burned. “He doesn’t look at me any different from the way he looks at you.”
Ginger met Sandi’s eyes, and they both pursed their lips.
Fred wasn’t having that. The kiss had been a thing of the moment, born out of too much wine and the fact that neither of them had kissed anyone for eons. If he’d been out walking with Ginger, he would probably have kissed her.
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