The Saxon Brides: Mistaken Mistress

He shot her a dark look. “Maybe.”

“Hey, that was a joke.”

“It wasn’t funny.” But his lips curled into a smile inviting her to smile back.

“Why aren’t you married, Joshua?” That sounded so blunt. But it had been on her mind since Friday night when she’d seen how at ease he and Caitlyn were in each other’s company. “Or at least attached. You’re an attractive man—”

“Thank you.” He gave her a slow smile.

She felt herself flush. “Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a proposition. I’m—”

“In journalist mode?” This time the smile held an edge. “Don’t worry, I never did consider it a come-on.”

“What a relief,” she said, a little barb to keep him from realising how interested she, Alyssa the woman, not Alyssa the journalist, really was. “So are you going to answer?”

“Always the journalist,” he said, and the irony was not lost on her.

She didn’t respond.

Finally he sighed. “I’ve never found anyone that I want to spend my life with.” He gave her a crooked smile. “My parents set a tough example to follow. They met each other at a dance and knew from the first moment.”

“You expect the same?”

He gave her a strange look. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps their romance has grown in the telling.”

“They love each other. They always have. There’s never been anyone else for either of them—ever.”

Alyssa felt a moment of envy at his certainty. “I hope you find it—the once-in-a-lifetime love that you’re looking for.”

He shrugged. “I’m not looking for it. But if I find it, I’ll recognise it and embrace it. And in the meantime I’m not settling for second best.”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

He shrugged again. “Not really. I date. I’ve got friends—”

“And family.” Joshua had friends, he was highly respected, he ran a successful winery. Yet more than anything Alyssa coveted his family.

“Yes, my family is important to me.”

“And your staff …” She waved a hand around the tasting shed.

He nodded, his eyes softening. “Saxon’s Folly is more than a workplace, more than a winery. It’s home.”

“If you ever marry, your wife is going to have to love this place.”

“It’s in my blood,” he said with a simple acceptance that she envied.

“What about Caitlyn?”

He blinked at the sudden question. “What about her?”

“Have you ever dated her?”

“Caitlyn?” He gave a surprised laugh. “What makes you think that?”

“It seemed like such an obvious partnership. The winemaker and the winery boss.”

“I like Caitlyn. She’s smart—a great winemaker. But she’s always been one of the boys. There’s no chemistry.”

“One of the boys?” Caitlyn? Alyssa stared at him in astonishment. Was he blind to the other woman’s tall, slim strength? Granted, she wore jeans and boots and men’s shirts that gave her a tomboy look. But her light blue eyes, dusting of Celtic freckles and strawberry-blond hair had an undoubted charm even if her hair was always pulled back in a no-fuss ponytail and she wore no make up, but she hardly resembled a boy.

Men! Alyssa shook her head in disbelief, but she couldn’t prevent the relief that flowed through her that he’d never been attracted to the other woman.

Joshua leaned toward her. “Here come your first customers. Are you ready?”

She looked up to see three women and two men in their late twenties approaching. Alyssa gave them what she hoped was a welcoming smile and waved them onto the barstools in front of the counter.

“What would you like to taste?” She lined up five tasting glasses. One of the women and the two men chose the Cabernet Merlot, the other two women pondered indecisively. Alyssa poured the red wine into the three tasting glasses and watched as they picked up and swirled it around.

“I’ll try the Semillon,” said one of the two who had been undecided.

“Sav Blanc for me, please,” said the other.

“Black currants,” said one of the men, sniffing at the dregs of the red in his glass. “It smells of black currants.”

The others laughed. “I tasted red grapes,” said the blonde who had tasted the red.

“You wouldn’t be wrong to say black currants,” Joshua’s voice was low and serious.

“And I suppose the Sav tastes of grapefruit?” The woman with the Sauvignon Blanc gave him a flirtatious look from under her lashes.

Unaccountable annoyance rose within Alyssa. “The Saxon’s Folly Sauvignon Blancs are known for their stone fruit flavours.” She forced herself to smile blithely at the flirt.

“Stone fruit?” The woman gave her a blank look.

“Yes, peaches and nectarines.” Alyssa poured a little more wine in her glass.

“Can you tell the difference between a Sauvignon Blanc and a Chardonnay,” asked one of the men, giving her an interested look.

“Yes.” Alyssa took out two clean glasses and placed them before him. She poured a little Chardonnay in the one and a sample of Sauvignon Blanc in the other. “You’re looking for taste on the palate. The Chardonnay will have hints of oak—it’s been barrel fermented—not in the bottle. It’s also a little buttery, whereas the Sauvignon Blanc is fruitier. Have a taste of each.”

“Ooh, can I try, too?” one of the women asked.

“Sure.” Alyssa repeated the ritual for her.

“I taste a hint of peaches,” said the woman.