Kitabı oku: «The Saxon Brides», sayfa 8

Nine

Alyssa woke to find pale gray, early-morning light filtering in through the half-closed blinds. Outside the ward she could hear the clank of heavy trolleys, hear the attendants offering patients tea down the corridor.

She started to sit up. A movement in the corner of the still-dim room startled her.

Joshua unfolded himself from an armchair. “Let me help you.”

“Thanks.” She leant forward. He bent over her and immediately his masculine scent embraced her. Sun and earth and a hint of lemon and something a little spicy. He propped a pillow in behind her back.

She couldn’t help thinking how unfair it was. She must look a mess, her hair rumpled, her eyes sleepy. Whereas the hollows beneath Joshua’s eyes gave him a jaded appeal that simply made him more attractive. The events of the past week had added edges and angles to his handsome features. Shadows darkened his eyes to black pits and in the depths she could discern his turbulence.

“Don’t tell me you stayed up all night?” she asked.

He nodded.

She clicked. “You should’ve gone home. That chair must’ve been terribly uncomfortable. Did you get any sleep?”

He came closer, till he stood beside the hospital bed. “Not much. There’s a lot on my mind.”

She could imagine. Joshua took his responsibilities seriously. And right now they must be piling up almost out of control. Saxon’s Folly took up a huge chunk of his time. He had his parents’ emotional well-being to look after … and Kay had told her that he was the executor of Roland’s estate. And beyond that lurked the threat of scandal about the tastings in the wine competition. No wonder he looked drained. All those matters must weigh heavily on his mind.

His eyes scanned her face, inspecting every feature, until Alyssa started to feel self-conscious. “What is it? What are you thinking about?”

The dark eyes met hers squarely. “You told me once that you loved my brother a great deal.”

He seemed to expect a reply. Alyssa swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. At last, she simply nodded.

“But you let me kiss you.” He brushed her lips with his fingertips. “Here. And here.” His fingers skimmed her neck, touching the base of her throat.

“Joshua!” Eyes stretched wide, she objected to his touch.

His hand moved to rest on the covers beside her. “I’d like to think that you would not have responded to me like that if you loved Roland.”

“I loved him.” It was a squeak of sound. Alyssa found that she couldn’t hold his gaze. She glanced down. His hand lay on the crisp white bedcovers. She jumped as he lifted it and placed a finger under her chin.

Tilting her head, he looked down into her eyes and asked, “Did you ever sleep with Roland?”

Her pulse started to hammer. She swallowed nervously. “What kind of a question is that?”

“Answer me.”

She shook her head.

Something gave in the bleak, black gaze. “Now we’re making progress. I don’t believe that you’d sleep with one man, and then respond to me like you did down at the waterfall so soon after his death. Not if you really loved him—not with your black-and-white views of the world. Not even because of grief.”

Trapped, she stared back at him. Better she remain silent.

Five seconds dragged past. “What do you say about that?”

Alyssa thought of her promise to Kay. Not to tell. Ever.

This time when she shook her head, his mouth tightened. “You know what I think? I don’t even think you wanted him to break off his engagement to Amy. I don’t think you were waiting for him to come to you. Because after yesterday, I no longer believe that you loved him.”

“I did love him.” This time the silence stretched until Alyssa’s nerves started to fray.

Joshua finally broke it. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

She believed him. His jaw was set. She had no doubt he was going to do his best. But she had no intention of breaking her word. “The answer is staring you in the face.”

“What do you mean?”

She’d said too much. “I can’t tell you!”

“Why not?”

Because she’d promised. And she never broke her promises. She shuddered and covered her face with her hands. “I just can’t.”

“Staring me in the face.” He narrowed his gaze. “It’s something to do with you.”

She lay unmoving, refusing to look at him.

Taking great care not to hurt her hand, Joshua lifted her hands away from her face and gently set them down. “Help me here.” His eyes held hers. Intent. Demanding answers she could never give.

“This isn’t some game of charades, Joshua.” She sighed. “I can’t help you. I shouldn’t even have said as much as I did.”

“What are you so worried about?”

Again she shook her head. “No more. Don’t ask me.” She closed her eyes, refusing to answer. But when his hands landed on her stomach they shot open. “What are you doing?”

Joshua didn’t respond. Instead he examined his hands moulding her belly. He couldn’t bear thinking of her carrying Roland’s child. After a pause, he said, “You can’t be pregnant with Roland’s child. Not if you never made love. So it’s not that. But it must be physical.”

He studied her, searching for something that was staring him in the face. Her colour was good. Her eyes didn’t look dull and lifeless. “You’re not suffering from any dread disease, are you? I helped complete your admission and surgery forms—there was nothing you felt a compelling need to share. So it can’t be that. It’s not linked to any medical condition you have that Roland might have been a match for … blood, bone marrow, kidneys.”

He was fishing now. Alyssa pursed her lips in a straight line. She’d seen through his ploy. Joshua could see that she wasn’t going to tell him a thing.

He stared at her, feature by feature. From this close, he could see the fiery lights in the dark red hair. The pansy eyes were more navy than purple right now. And even lying in a hospital bed the scent of jasmine and some spice—cinnamon perhaps?—clung to her. Joshua noticed something he’d never picked up on before. A feeling of disbelief swept him. “You know something … you share the same colouring as Roland. I never saw it before, because I wasn’t looking for it.”

She tried to laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Good, you’re talking.” He was on the right track. He knew it. He frowned as the implications hit him. He touched her hair. It was soft, silky. “Your hair is red, not the bright shade of Roland’s, but darker. Your eyes are such a dark blue that they appear purple in some lights. Roland’s eyes weren’t black—they were navy blue.” He touched her cheek, the skin was smooth under his fingers. He heard her breath catch. Instantly his blood surged, and heat shot to his head. He fought to stay calm. He needed to. “Your skin isn’t pale, nor does it bear freckles. Nor did Roland’s, despite his red hair. Surprised?” He cocked a brow at her.

At that moment the tea trolley arrived. Relief swept Alyssa’s face, and she accepted a cup of tea with a warm smile to the attendant.

Fingers drumming against the overbed table, Joshua waited impatiently for the attendant and the tea trolley to depart. Why had none of them noticed Alyssa’s resemblance to Roland before? It explained her misery when he died … her insistence on staying for the funeral … and her endless questions about every aspect of Roland’s life—even to the point that she wanted to visit the waterfall he’d enjoyed swimming at.

Once the attendant had left, a simmering silence remained. Joshua broke it. “I’m interested in why you feel you can’t you tell me the truth, Alyssa.”

She gave him a hesitant look from under her lashes. “I made a promise.”

He pounced. “To whom?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“I think it does.” His tipped his head to one side. “Cousins?” he mused. “Am I on the right track?”

“I’m not discussing this.” She turned over in the bed and presented her back to him.

A startling thought struck Joshua. His heart started to pound. It couldn’t be … or could it? Slowly he said, “When we were kids, Roland used to be teased that he was a foundling—the parents didn’t know about it. The teasing stopped because we were three tough boys. Only fools took us on. I haven’t thought about it for years. But now I’m starting to wonder—”

“Don’t.” She rolled back and gazed at him with a horrified expression. “Don’t wonder. He was your brother.”

Triumph surged through him. “But what was your relationship to him, Alyssa?”

“I can’t tell you!”

“So there was a blood relationship.”

She stared at him stonily. “God, you’re sneaky.”

“Brother and sister?”

It had to be that … there was nothing else it could be.

She shut her eyes. “Please go,” she whispered.

“That would mean Roland was adopted.” He paused, weighing it up. It was possible. He considered how he would feel if it were true. Nothing changed. Roland was still—would always be—his brother. But why had they never been told? “Not something that my mother and father were likely to miss. Did you promise my parents you wouldn’t tell?”

The pansy eyes were full of guilt. “They didn’t want you to know.”

“I worked it out. I should have realised something was amiss about Roland. You were so desperate—”

The smile she gave him was twisted. “That’s why you decided that I had to be Roland’s mistress.”

“You loved him.”

“Never in that way.”

“But it was the only explanation that made sense. The truth was too far out of left field for me to even suspect—until I took a damn hard look at you.” He gave her a small smile. “You didn’t break your promise, you never told me anything. But there are questions I need to ask my parents. I want to know if he’s my half-brother—”

“He’s not.” She put her hands over her mouth. “Damn, I shouldn’t have said that. You must ask your parents. But please wait till after I’m gone.”

He nodded. He would ask. Later. He wasn’t allowing Alyssa to leave. Not yet. “I won’t say a word. First you need to recover.”

David Townsend, Wine Watch’s editor, took the news of Alyssa’s continued absence from the office far better than she’d expected. But there was a price, David warned her. He’d be expecting a terrific exposé about the Golden Harvest Wine Award tastings to show for her absence from the office.

A hollow weight settled in the pit of Alyssa’s stomach as she found herself telling David that she would do her best. She couldn’t refuse him anymore. He’d let her extend her leave, now he hadn’t complained about her accident leave. She had to pay the price—and he would expect her to pull out all the stops.

It was enough to make her feel queasy.

On Wednesday morning, packed, her head still ringing with the doctor’s discharge instructions to start physical-therapy sessions as soon as possible, Alyssa glanced up as footsteps slowed outside the door of the private ward.

Joshua stood in the doorway. He wore a pair of chinos and a white button-down shirt. He appeared tall, dark and totally overwhelming.

“I’ve come to take you home,” he said. With the truth about her relationship to Roland out in the open, the tenderness that shone from his eyes jerked at her heartstrings.

Home to Saxon’s Folly.

A complex mix of emotions raged through her. Relief … guilt that she’d had no choice about the story … and beneath it all shimmered the confusing hot need that Joshua’s proximity evoked. Alyssa knew she should flee back to Auckland at supersonic speed. Before she reached the point of no return. Instead, she let him take the bag of toiletries and feminine fripperies she’d accumulated and followed him out to the Range Rover.

Back at Saxon’s Folly a welcoming committee awaited her on the stone stairs in front of the homestead. Kay. Phillip. Megan. Caitlyn. And even Heath Saxon.

“Really, I’m fine,” Alyssa protested as they ushered her into the living room where Ivy waited with a tea tray. “Oh, a cup of tea will be lovely.”

“Shouldn’t you go to bed?” Kay asked.

“After two nights in hospital, I’m tired of being in bed,” Alyssa said with brutal honesty.

“You can rest here.” Joshua patted the chaise lounge beside the window.

“I’ll feel like a Victorian invalid,” Alyssa objected.

Kay and Caitlyn started to laugh. Then Caitlyn said, “The Saxon’s are determined to cosset you, I suggest you give in gracefully.”

Alyssa shot the winemaker a sparkling look. “You’re saying I should surrender?”

Caitlyn nodded emphatically. “Enjoy it while you can.”

Alyssa settled onto the chaise lounge, then Joshua claimed the armchair beside her. Again the wariness resurfaced. She had to take care. It would be all too easy to be seduced by this softer Joshua … particularly when he was being thoughtful and caring. And there was the seductive charm of his wonderful family.

It was vital to remember that Joshua would never fall in love with her. His view of her as an ambitious hack writer, out to get a story at any cost, hadn’t changed. He still blamed her for blackening his—and Saxon’s Folly’s—name.

It lay between them like an unscalable abyss. Not even the new tenderness he showed to her, or the knowledge that she wasn’t Roland’s lover would change that. No doubt about it, falling for Joshua would be crazy. A sure road to heartbreak.

Hurriedly, to get her mind off him, she said to the room at large, “I can’t wait until all these dressings come off.” She held up her left hand. “I’m supposed to start physical therapy in a day or so.”

“Let me know when your appointments are, I’ll take you,” Joshua said, his eyes smiling down at her.

Alyssa couldn’t look away. “No need for that.”

Joshua glanced pointedly at her bandaged hand. “Your hatchback has a gear shift. How do you propose to drive?”

He had a point. “I’ll call a cab.”

“I could drive you, too,” Megan volunteered.

“Thanks.” Alyssa smiled at her in gratitude.

The warmth faded from his eyes. Alyssa felt the absence. “I don’t want to be a burden,” she said lamely.

“You’re not a burden,” said Joshua firmly. “The accident should never have happened.”

His eyes held hers. Alyssa’s breathing quickened and happiness rushed through her at his caring expression. The knowledge that she was playing with fire, risking the danger of being painfully burned sank in.

If she had any sense, she’d keep herself busy. The story for Wine Watch would be a start. But Joshua didn’t know that she’d agreed to do it.

Her contentment faded a little. He would not be pleased when he discovered that. Better to let him think she was otherwise occupied. “Is there anything I can do? I’m bored out of my skull.”

“You could help with some press releases I need written,” Megan said.

Joshua shook his head. “Alyssa needs rest.”

His refusal stung. Did it stem from concern for her? Or distrust? What did he believe she could do to harm Saxon’s Folly? The reality sunk in. He was justified in distrusting her. She’d agreed to write the article David wanted.

By morning Alyssa was back on her feet, dressed and ready to accompany Joshua to work. Spending the day in the winery and driving around the vineyards would be far easier than being cooped up in the intimacy of the homestead with Joshua.

But Joshua had other ideas.

“You’re staying home. You’re hand needs to heal … and the bruises on your back, too.”

“The pain is much better,” Alyssa said. “If I spend another day lying on the chaise lounge, I’ll go stir-crazy.”

“Rest,” he barked out.

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. They were still arguing when Joshua’s cell phone rang. After a few moments, he pocketed the phone. “That was Caitlyn. There’s a problem with one of the stainless steel vats. I’ll see you later.”

Alyssa sank onto the chaise lounge, relieved at her unexpected reprieve. Joshua popped in intermittently through the day to make sure that she had everything she needed. Over the next week Alyssa felt like a total fraud as everyone took turns to sit with her and keep her amused.

Megan drove her into town for a check up, and took her to two physical-therapy sessions. While Kay had decided to create a Roland scrapbook out of photos and mementos and had asked for Alyssa’s help. Although Alyssa suspected it was a ploy to keep her occupied, she was thrilled to when she saw how much joy the project gave Kay. It brought her even closer to Roland’s mother.

But Alyssa found that she couldn’t relax. She was worried about Joshua’s reaction to the story she was already working on.

Since he’d discovered that Roland was her brother, the barriers between them had been collapsing. She didn’t want to deceive him. She couldn’t go on like this, she decided, as she put away the notes that she’d compiled. When he came home that night, she cornered him in the lobby and said abruptly, “I need to talk to you. Alone.”

Joshua slung an arm around her shoulders and guided her through the French doors of the salon. Outside, in the rosy light of the evening sun, she trembled beneath his touch.

He released her and leaned against the railing, radiating a relaxation he didn’t feel. “Okay, what’s on your mind.” Whatever it was, was clearly worrying her.

“I’ve told Wine Watch that I’ll do an investigative piece on the tastings.” Her face was tense as she waited for his response.

Joshua nodded slowly. So much for her claim that she had no intentions of doing the story. Disappointment edged through him, chilly and sharp. Alyssa would never change—the story would always come first.

“I tell you what, I’ll cooperate and answer any questions you choose to pose about the competition tasting.”

Alyssa pinned him with a sharp glance. “You’ll answer all my questions? No holding back?”

He nodded. “But there’s one condition: all your questions must be directed at me. No one else at Saxon’s Folly is to be badgered.”

“I have your word? You won’t back out?”

He nodded again. “Why should I back out?”

“You might not like the angle I take.”

“I doubt you’d write anything to sully Roland’s memory.”

She looked at him. The slanting light turned his handsome features into a mask of gold. Then she looked past him to where the Nikau palms whispered in the breeze. Her fears about Joshua’s reaction when he found out she’d agreed to take the story, dissolved. He was going to cooperate. She let out a shaky breath and brought her attention back to him. “I’ve already sent in the tribute I wrote for Roland. This is an investigative piece. About the rumours that the samples provided for tasting in the Golden Harvest Wine Awards differ from what’s available in the stores. My editor won’t go for a romantic, rose-tinted article,” she said warningly.

“You can’t do that without compromising your brother, too.” His jaw was thrust forward. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

Alyssa considered that. Anything negative she wrote about Joshua or Saxon’s Folly, would rub off on Roland, her brother, too. Which was exactly why she’d felt her objectivity for this story was compromised from the outset. It was a pity that her promise to Kay hadn’t allowed her to share that insight with David. “I have no choice but to take that risk. I’m not known for being soft,” she warned again. But despite her tough words, the delight was spreading. She could hardly believe that Joshua had conceded, that the solution had come so easily.

He narrowed his eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to scare me off.”

She threw him a smile that revealed some of her pleasure. “If there’s one word I’d never use to describe you, Joshua, it would be cowardly.”

“Thanks.” His jaw relaxed slightly. “I think. Do I want to know what words you will use to describe me?”

Gorgeous. Sexy. Endearingly protective.

But those gave away too much.

“Hmm, let me think.” She tilted her head to one side, and assessed him. Finally she said, “Suspicious …”

His eyes sparked. “You bet! And I’m not going to let you out of my sight while you pursue that story. I intend to watch every move you make.”

“Distrustful …”

“Hey, I’m letting you do the story … I’m even cooperating,” he protested.

It didn’t take Alyssa long to discover that Joshua meant what he’d said. He watched her like a hawk and clearly had no intention of letting her talk to anyone other than him on the estate.

She’d barely taken out her pocket Dictaphone in the vicinity of Caitlyn, when Joshua came bearing down on her, a frown blackening his expression, making him look like a gorgeous—but fearful—fallen angel.

“This is not what we agreed, Alyssa.” His anger was molten.

Caitlyn gave her an apologetic smile and disappeared with a mutter about getting to work before the boss fired her.

Joshua didn’t even grin.

And once Alyssa met his fulminating glare, trepidation filled her. “Hey, Caitlyn didn’t refuse.”

“She likes you. You took advantage of her good nature.”

“She’s a grown woman.”

“But she’s not nearly as wary of you as she should be. She thinks you’re her friend. She sees the whiteness of your smile, but misses your hunger for a story.”

Ouch. Alyssa’s shoulders started to sag. Then she squared them, refusing to let him get to her. “I only want to find out the truth. Caitlyn has become a friend. I wouldn’t take advantage of her by asking her questions that would be a problem.”

“Ask me. That was our deal. I’m available now.”

She gave him a speculative look. He’d calmed down a little. Alyssa let him lead her to the rough-hewn, heavy wooden table and benches that sat under a trio of silver birch trees on the southern side of the winery. Her Dictaphone hit the wooden tabletop with a thud.

A challenge, Joshua decided.

The impression was reinforced when Alyssa said, “You don’t mind if I record, do you?” And her pansy eyes dared him to object.

“I don’t mind.”

“That way you can’t accuse me of putting words in your mouth.” Her grin was edged.

Joshua suppressed his retort and contented himself with raising an eyebrow. “Feel better?”

“My hand is not as sore as yesterday.” She looked mollified.

Joshua didn’t have the heart to point out that he’d been referring to her barbed comment—and whether that had made her feel better. He let her take his comment at face value.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Joshua was relieved that she seemed to have bounced back to her confident self. He watched her fumble one-handed with the Dictaphone and switch it on.

“So Saxon’s Folly would never deceive the public?”

Joshua picked his words carefully. “When you’re producing the volume of wine that we do, it’s virtually impossible to guarantee that each batch will be identical. This is wine we’re talking about, not manufactured widgets. There isn’t a mould to make it from. It’s science mingled with art. A fluid process. The winemaker will strive to bring out the best in the harvest, to make it consistent with the character that the winery is renowned for.”

Alyssa paused the recorder. “I need to talk to Caitlyn—otherwise I’m not going to get a full picture.”

“No!”

His face was tight. His jaw hard. Alyssa could see she wasn’t going to move him. This was the Joshua Saxon who’d gotten under her skin. Arrogant. Opinionated. Certain that he was right.

Always.

“How can it hurt?” she wheedled.

“Plenty.” He laughed. It held no amusement.

Alyssa gave up with a sigh and asked a string of questions. The answers he gave were insightful. It was going to be a great article. Finally, the sun prickling on her back, she brought the interview back to the point that was central to her story. “I’m aware that there might be certain subtle differences between vintages … but that’s not what we’re talking about. Here the issue is deliberately misleading the public. What do you say about that?”

“Saxon’s Folly would never do that.”

Looking at Joshua, Alyssa felt her conviction waver. “So you would never try to win awards with a superior batch of wine and flood the stores with an inferior version?”

He shook his head. “Not deliberately. As I said before there might be variations between batches, but only a very experienced taster would be able to detect the minuscule differences.”

“I’m not talking about subtle differences.”

“I’ve tasted them—I assure you they’re substantially the same. But I’m certain you won’t accept my word.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I bet you wouldn’t be able to taste the difference.” He warmed to his topic. “I challenge you to a blind tasting, so that you can taste for yourself what the judges get and what the public buys. Let’s see if your palate can detect the difference you believe exists.”

Alyssa didn’t hesitate. “Fine! I’ll take you up on that—as long as I get the same samples you sent the judges.”

“Of course.” He inclined his head. “You’ll be eating your words. In print. For all the world to see.”

The look on his face was implacable. For the first time, apprehension shuddered through Alyssa. What if there was no difference? David would be expecting a story with substance. Then she straightened her backbone. Whatever happened, she would tell the truth.

That night Alyssa came downstairs to find the grand salon full of people. She paused at the high double doors, instantly aware of Joshua standing by the large sash window talking earnestly to his father.

Then the crowd dissolved into familiar faces. Megan sitting with Kay, and a quiet Amy. Caitlyn and Heath were chatting to the only man in the room who Alyssa didn’t recognise, while Ivy bustled around setting down platters with hors d’oeuvres on the side tables.

Alyssa noticed that the discussion between Joshua and Phillip had come to an abrupt end with her arrival. Her journalist instincts went on full alert.

“What can I get you to drink?” Joshua came toward her.

She gave him a careless smile, determined not to show her curiosity. “I’ll have a tall glass of lime and soda please.” And glided across to stand beside Caitlyn.

Heath gave her a welcoming smile. And Caitlyn said, “Alyssa, did you meet Barry Johnson at the winery this afternoon?”

The stranger grinned at her and answered for them both. “We didn’t have that pleasure.”

Quickly Alyssa said, “I had a rest this afternoon.” And held up her bandaged hand.

“Barry’s here to investigate some ludicrous claims that Saxon’s Folly entered fraudulent samples in a wine-tasting competition,” Megan said, joining them. “I’ve no doubt that you’ll tell the organisers what a bunch of rubbish that is, Barry.”

Barry’s smile was noncommittal before he requested a recount of Alyssa’s accident. The next few minutes were spent talking about the dangers of horse riding—with Megan laughingly labelling Barry’s more outrageous recounts of his own youthful experiences as urban legends.

“Alyssa’s fall was certainly not funny while it was happening,” Joshua broke in from behind Alyssa. “I blame that stallion. He caused Breeze to bolt. He’s been an accident waiting to happen for a long time. I don’t know how many times I told Roland to get rid of him.”

“What happened to me wasn’t the horse’s fault,” Alyssa objected as she took the drink he held out. “The two guys upset him.”

“Yes. And I’ll deal with them as soon as they’re caught.”

Alyssa shivered at the slashing tightness of Joshua’s mouth. She had no doubt he would. She almost found a little pity for them—despite the lingering ache in her hand.

“Is there a possibility that they came to taste the wines?” Alyssa asked, taking a sip before setting the drink down on a nearby table.

“No. There’s closed-circuit surveillance in the tasting shed and we didn’t catch any footage of them. The investigating officer suspects that they’re young hoods, part of a gang that has been causing some problems recently. They’re determined to apprehend them.”

“Good,” Megan sounded fierce. “As long as they don’t take too long about it.”

Alyssa caught Joshua’s eye and both of them started to grin.

“What are you two laughing at?” Megan eyed them suspiciously.

“You sound so bloodthirsty.”

Megan snorted. “They could’ve hurt Breeze … or that black devil horse.”

“That black devil can look after himself. It’s Alyssa who could’ve died.” Joshua gave her a brooding look. “She didn’t escape unscathed.”

A surge of warmth swept through Alyssa. For a moment the outlandish thought crossed her mind that Joshua really cared.

“I’m feeling a lot better,” she said softly.

“I’m glad.” His voice was smooth and deep.

Out of the corner of her eye Alyssa caught Megan’s start of surprise. She felt herself flush a little with embarrassment. She didn’t need another witness to this insanity she felt about Joshua Saxon. It was an infantile infatuation. All about sex. About being too long without a man. It was totally crazy. And it had no hope of surviving. Heavens, he didn’t even trust her to do a story.

Joshua lifted his Baccarat wineglass and took a sip of Saxon’s Folly’s Pinot Gris. His meal finished, he watched Alyssa flick back the fall of spectacular hair that glowed in the dim lighting. Instantly his senses were assaulted by the memory of the last time he’d tasted the full-bodied wine.

On Alyssa’s lush lips, mingled with strawberries.

Damn!

“Joshua?” He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. “Sorry, I startled you.”

He moved his high-backed chair a little as Caitlyn slid into the unoccupied seat beside him.

“Barry was asking me questions earlier.”

“About what?” Disquiet rocked Joshua. The hairs on the back of his neck started to rise.

“That this isn’t the first time that Saxon’s Folly has been suspected of misrepresenting samples,” Caitlyn murmured, keeping her voice low.

“That’s bull.”

“Is it?” Caitlyn’s eyes were wide and worried. “What if Roland did submit a better batch?”