One Night, Two Consequences

Ana.

So little time as man and wife and he ached remembering that their marriage hadn’t been the happiest time of their relationship. As always, before he forced those thoughts away he consoled himself with the reminder that he’d known her and loved her one way or another all his life. She’d been his childhood friend, his first girlfriend, his prom date. They’d broken up during college but had reconnected in their mid-twenties when she’d become his live-in lover, his fiancеe, and finally, for far too short a time, his wife.

And, to date, the only woman he’d ever loved. Would ever love.

Ignoring the issue that cropped up after they married, he deliberately remembered that they had suited each other perfectly. He was ambitious and dynamic and driven, able to take control and to be in charge. He had grounded her. She’d been sanguine and scatty, easy-going and happy to let him do what he did best—which had been to make the decisions and to chart the course of their lives. They’d been the perfect example of opposites attracting, and lightning, Bo thought, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stared out of his office window at the sun setting over the western vineyard, didn’t strike twice. He’d had the real thing. The only thing …

They said that memories of the people you’d lost faded, but even after four and a half years Bo didn’t need to look at the large black-and-white photograph that dominated the credenza next to his desk to visualise Ana. The long blonde hair he’d used to love wrapping around his fists as he slid into her, her dirty laugh, her wide blue eyes. Sometimes he swore he could still smell her.

She was still as much a part of him as she had been … she always would be. Love didn’t die with death. Or because of a rolling, on-off six month argument.

‘I’ll love you to the end …’ he’d told her as the light of life had faded from her eyes, as she’d lain in his arms, battered and broken, in that driving rain. She’d needed to hear it and he’d needed to say it.

She’d managed a final tiny smile. ‘Promise?’

‘Yeah. Always.’

He glanced at the photograph and his heart contracted. He was still in love with his wife—would always be in love with his wife. Despite everything that had happened, he’d never stopped loving her. As a result he liked women but he didn’t engage with them emotionally … financially. When you’d had something so amazing nobody else could compete—and he wasn’t prepared for them to try.

And if the fact that he was still in love with his wife wasn’t enough to put him off getting involved with a woman, then his job was. His career demanded eighty-hour weeks or more—when would he have time to date, for a relationship?

Nah, he was happy to play it cool, skimming along the surface …

Then his thoughts veered off on a tangent, as they often did lately, and the image of Remy—naked, looking down at him, her pale eyes warm with laughter—appeared behind his retina. Remy, his hot-as-hell, over-before-daylight, one-night lover. He could remember every kiss, every touch, every smell and he wished he could forget. One of these days he’d stop thinking of her … of that mind-blowing night.

Hopefully it would be sometime soon, so that his life could go back to normal. He hadn’t seen another woman, hadn’t had sex for six weeks, and it was time—way past time—to replace those hot memories of the champagne-eyed witch with the very bad pickup lines.

A hand slapping his desk jerked him back to the present. Eli and Ginny were on the other side of his desk, looking at him expectantly. When had they come in? He hadn’t even noticed.

‘Hi … what’s up?’

Ginny and Eli exchanged a long, weird look. ‘You called us to a meeting, Bo,’ Ginny said, pushing her hair behind her ears. ‘Are you okay?’

That would be a negative.

‘Sure,’ he lied, hating the feeling of operating on only one or two cylinders. He ran a multimillion-dollar company—it was time he acted like the super-sharp businessman he was reputed to be. Remembering his wife was normal—to be expected, even—but daydreaming about a hot night with a woman he wouldn’t see again was not. It was utterly ridiculous …

Irritated with himself, he located the file he needed from a pile to his right and tossed it across the table to where his sister and cousin were now sitting.

Dropping into his leather chair, he leaned back and placed his feet on the corner of his desk. ‘Bella’s Folly.’

Ginny leaned forward, clasping her hands around her knees. ‘The land with no owner?’

‘That we know of. If there isn’t a will, then the estate will pass on to her nearest relative. If there is a will, then it’s simple. Either way, we need to find the heir first,’ Eli said, placing his ankle on his knee.

‘Yeah. There is going to be a lot of interest in the property.’ Bo leaned further back in his chair. ‘Moving on from one folly to another … The renovations for the bistro and coffee shop are nearly finished, and I’m flying to New York tonight and will be back tomorrow evening. I need to see some customers, talk to some distributors, and I’ll also interview a couple of chefs for the position of the bistro chef/manager while I’m out there.’

Eli frowned. ‘No candidates from California?’

‘A couple,’ Bo answered. ‘These are better qualified.’

‘We met someone today who had real potential. Someone who knew food and whom we really liked,’ Ginny mused. ‘She could be just what we’re looking for.’

Bo lifted his eyebrows. ‘Is she applying for the job?’

Ginny pulled a face. ‘She’s not sticking around that long—which is a pity, because I think she would’ve been perfect for the bistro.’

Comme ci, comme ?a … Bo shrugged. ‘I’ll find someone in New York.’

Ginny shook her head. ‘Just remember that we need the right personality. Someone who will fit in here at Belleaire with us. We want someone who is warm and funny, who can talk to kids and adults alike. Someone who has brilliant people skills and a solid sense of humour,’ Ginny insisted.

The last person he’d come across with a solid sense of humour had turned out to be the best sex of his life.

Better than Ana? Really?

Different from Ana, he quickly amended. Very different.

I thought we were done thinking about her, moron?

‘It would be nice if she was a looker, too.’ Eli added.

Remy had been a looker …

Enough, Tessier!

Bo looked at his watch. ‘I need to get going. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m away, okay?’

Eli sent Ginny a sardonic look. ‘How old are we? Ten?’

‘One of these days he’ll realise that he isn’t actually the boss of us,’ Ginny replied.

‘Somebody needs to keep you two in line,’ Bo told them, and held up his hand as mouths opened to protest. ‘Yeah, I know. I’m arrogant, annoying and bossy.’ He smiled at the two people he loved best. ‘Now, get out of my office. I’ve got a lot to do before I head to the airport.’

Eli and Ginny, not in the least offended, stood up. Ginny, being Ginny, walked around his desk to give him a hug goodbye. It didn’t matter if he was going away for two days or two years. Ginny would hug him as if he was leaving for ever.

CHAPTER THREE (#u04077917-1ef9-5558-9c93-98f7a295b025)

THE BELLEAIRE WINE estate was dominated by a triple storey blue stone mansion—and how could it not be? Remy thought, pulling to the side of the broad, Spanish-oak-tree-lined driveway so that she could spend a minute admiring the house.

It had turrets and bay windows galore, balconies and buttresses, and was three storeys of pure whimsy. It looked like a grand old lady who’d had too many glasses of wine at suppertime and had decided to kick up her heels and dance a jig. It was loud and ostentatious and a tad over the top—and she absolutely loved it.

Her type of mansion, Remy thought.

The entrance to the hotel was just behind a massive square fountain, and there were discreet signs directing visitors to the art gallery, the craft shop, the potters’ studio. In the other direction was the tasting room, and if she looked to the land there were rows of vines as far as the eye could see, heavy with grapes. It was late summer and autumn was on its way. Some of the trees were starting to turn and she knew that the harvest was fast approaching.

Remy, as directed by Ginny, took the path to the gallery and walked through the luscious gardens to her destination. God, it was pretty. How lucky were Ginny and Eli to own this, to be part of this? Remy looked around. The place was elegant, rich, tasteful … and Remy was still surprised that Ginny had invited her to see Belleaire up close and to join her and Eli for supper that night.

Remy felt heat in her cheekbones, still felt humiliated and foolish. After her mortifying display in the diner she’d shrugged off Ginny’s company in the hotel reception area and stumbled up to her room, deathly tired and intensely humiliated, and had instantly dropped to her knees in front of the toilet.