THE BLACKMAILED

BRIDE’S SECRET

CHILD

RACHEL BAILEY

AND

FOR BUSINESS…OR

MARRIAGE?

JULES BENNETT

www.millsandboon.co.uk

THE BLACKMAILED

BRIDE’S SECRET

CHILD

RACHEL BAILEY

“Nico.”

She sounded breathless, as if she’d been running.

“Good morning, Beth. I’ve come to offer you the family’s condolences on the loss of your husband, and to talk about some inheritance issues.”

Her eyes slid to the windowpane in the door then back to him. “Surely any paperwork can be handled by attorneys? You didn’t need to travel all this way.”

“Oh, but I did. I’m here only for the weekend, so we’ll talk today, in one hour. At my hotel room.”

Despite his best efforts, he’d never managed to control his craving for the woman who betrayed him. He’d volunteered to finalize the paperwork in person regarding his dead brother’s share of the family vineyards because he had to see Beth one more time.

To have her in his bed one more time.

About the Author

RACHEL BAILEY developed a serious book addiction at a young age (via Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddleduck) and has never recovered. Just how she likes it. She went on to gain degrees in psychology and social work, but is now living her dream—writing romance for a living.

She lives on a piece of paradise on Australia’s Sunshine Coast with her hero and four dogs, and loves to sit with a dog or two, overlooking the trees and reading books from her ever-growing to-be-read pile.

Rachel would love to hear from you and can be contacted through her website, www.rachelbailey.com.

Dear Reader,

There’s something about a tortured hero, something I find irresistible. And my heroine Beth finds Nico Jordan quite irresistible too—so I knew she’d need a very good reason to have left him seven years ago (though he wasn’t tortured back then, just the plain old garden variety irresistible!). Luckily Nico finds Beth just as tempting.

As for their setting … a couple of years ago, I visited the Marlborough region of New Zealand, famous for its vineyards and wineries. With its landscape of endless rows of vines, and its huge supply of wine-tasting rooms, it’s such a romantic location—the perfect backdrop for Nico and Beth’s struggle to come back together.

I spent quite a bit of time tasting wine … er, researching … for this story, so I hope you enjoy reading Nico and Beth’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Best wishes,

Rachel

To my mother, Noela.

For her support and indefatigable belief in me.

Thanks to

Diana Ventimiglia and Jennifer Schober for their

wisdom and guidance.

Barbara Jeffcott Geris and her gorgeous

husband, George, for the wine information

(though any mistakes are mine).

Lisa, Robbie, Sharon and Barb for their

encouragement and brilliance.

One

Nico Jordan surveyed the front of the ranch-style house where his half brother’s widow lived, and scowled into the frosty morning air. She’d left him for Kent and this pretentious piece of real estate?

Well, to be fair, Kent’s personal fortune had probably bought Beth several houses besides this one, and jewels by the bucket—things Nico wouldn’t have been able to afford back when he was twenty-four.

Things had changed in the last five years.

More things than he cared to remember.

But Kent was dead, Beth was now a widow and Nico had a job to do. He rolled up the pages in his hand and knocked on the door with a clenched fist. He’d volunteered to finalize the paperwork in person regarding his dead brother’s share of the family vineyards because he had to see Beth one more time. To have her in his bed one more time.

Despite his best efforts, he’d never managed to control his craving for the woman who’d betrayed him.

He lifted his fist to knock again but the door opened with a whoosh of warm air and then Beth stood there, more beautiful than he remembered, her so-familiar Cupid’s bow mouth open, her sapphire blue eyes wide.

Suddenly he was transported back five years to the last time they’d made love among the pinot noir vines on his family’s estate in Australia. They’d both pledged undying love that day—the day before she’d left the country to marry his brother.

“Nico.” She sounded breathless, as if she’d been running, but there was no flush on her cheeks. In fact, she looked pale.

Her strawberry blond hair was shorter, in a pixie cut now, which only made her heart-shaped face sweeter. His gaze swept down—she’d lost some weight, leaving her a little too thin, but that didn’t stop the pull of dark desire that flooded his system.

Yet he offered her no more than a cynical smile. “Good morning, Beth. I’ve come to offer you the family’s condolences on the loss of your husband, and to talk about some inheritance issues.”

Beth’s eyes darted to the side and she turned, hurriedly scanning the lavish room. He could see through to a living room beyond—also decorated in tasteful elegance. Then she stepped out onto the porch, closing the door firmly, but quietly behind her. “Thank you for the condolences. That was thoughtful of … your family.”

There was no love lost between his family and Beth—his father blamed her in part for Kent moving here to New Zealand to manage these minor vineyards and cutting most family ties. That wasn’t the crime Nico held her accountable for, however. “No trouble at all for the widow of our dear Kent.”

She had the grace to look unsettled. Though she should feel worse than merely “unsettled” after the anguish she’d caused him.

Her eyes slid to the windowpane in the door then back to him. “Surely any paperwork can be handled by attorneys? You didn’t need to come all the way from Australia.”

He leaned one arm on the closed door, dipping his head several inches closer. “Oh, bella, but I did.”

She flinched at the use of the endearment, the one he’d whispered so often on lazy afternoons in her parents’ hammock, or in the heat of passion when she lay under him.

“If we have to talk, then not here. I’ll meet you somewhere.” Her voice betrayed nerves—and determination.

“Are you telling me I’m not welcome in my own brother’s house?” He didn’t bother to hide the irony in his tone—he knew his brother would have stabbed him in the back rather than invite him into his home. Their lifelong, bitter rivalry had reached its peak after Kent’s marriage to Beth. She had been immediately whisked overseas to sever all ties with her past, but even worse, to maintain the estrangement, Kent’s son had never seen his grandfather or his Uncle Nico. A situation Nico intended to rectify.

He ran his gaze over Beth again. Kent had probably been wise to be paranoid about his wife. Had Beth strayed across Nico’s path after her marriage, he wouldn’t have thought twice about poaching on his brother’s territory. Kent hadn’t bothered with those rules.

But Kent was gone.

Beth darted another look inside and raised a hand to circle her throat. “Nico, do this for me. If we have to talk, meet me another day, somewhere else.”

What was she hiding? Was she continuing Kent’s plan to keep his son from his family? Or did she have a lover stashed away? Perhaps both.

“Five minutes alone and you’re already asking favors, bella.” Nico let his hand fall from the door, considering his options. Despite his determination to harden his heart, the plea in her eyes tugged at him, made it almost impossible to refuse her anything. But he must remember she was a good actress. This was the woman who’d strung him along for eleven months and then left him as soon as she got a better offer from his richer half brother.

And yet …

Deciding to grant this one favor, Nico blew out a breath. “I’m here only for the weekend, so we’ll talk today, in one hour. At my hotel room.”

“In one hour?” She reached behind and grasped the door to support herself. “That will be difficult. Perhaps tomorrow?”

He’d conceded enough. He turned to go. “If you’re not there in one hour, I’ll be back. I’ll also make a petition to the court that your son has access to his grandfather. The papers are drawn up and in the car ready to be lodged.”

He and this small boy were the only family his father had left, which was tragic for a family man like Tim Jordan. Nico had always been exceptionally close to his father and he’d do whatever it took to bring some joy to the older man, especially now he was so ill.

“Nico, you don’t understand—”

Her voice, fraught with panic, didn’t move him. He had no time to listen to her excuses.

“One hour, Beth. I’m staying at The Imperial.” He strode toward his car, not looking back.

One hour later, Beth stood outside Nico’s penthouse suite, barely able to get her fuddled brain to think clearly.

Nico, the only man she’d ever loved, was back. The man she’d protected by sacrificing her own hopes for happiness.

As soon as his car had left her drive, she’d run to find her son and taken him to her parents’ house nearby. Kent had bought the place for them, not out of the goodness of his heart, but to ensure she had no reason to visit Australia again. They were already set to have him for the night and following day, allowing her to attend the launch of Kent’s final white wine blend this evening. They’d been thrilled to have the extra morning with little Marco—or Mark, as Kent had christened him.

Only she called her four-year-old son by the name she used in her heart.

Her parents must have guessed her baby’s true parentage, though—her reddish blond hair and fair skin mixed with Kent’s ruddy complexion could never have made a child with strong Mediterranean coloring. Marco’s olive skin, chocolate eyes and dark hair were so obviously the coloring Nico had inherited from his own mother. However Beth’s parents had never said a word and she’d silently thanked them for that.

But if Nico saw him …

No. Not yet. Beth wrapped her arms around her waist. She couldn’t let him near his own son until it was safe. The consequences for Nico were still too great to tell him. She just needed to keep the secret while he was here on this trip. It wouldn’t be long before she could come clean about everything.

In the meantime, convenient or not, if Nico wanted to see her today, then she’d go along with it. She knew what the stakes were—he didn’t.

With a heavy heart, she rapped on the door.

She heard footfalls across tiles, then the door dragged open.

He stood there, tall and broad and darkly beautiful, and her pulse raced into overdrive without him doing a single thing. His face gave her no indication of his thoughts, no encouragement, but she needed none. The mere sight of him made her a little dizzy with joy, just as it had an hour ago. As it always had when they were younger.

“Give me your coat.” He held out a strong bronze hand.

Beth untied the belt of her long black coat and let it fall to her wrists. He took the garment and hung it from a hook on the wall, then heat flared in his dark eyes as he surveyed her thoroughly. Finally, he smiled in satisfaction and his gaze rested on hers.

She glanced down at her loose, ankle-length, woolen pink dress. Her clothes were all similar—none were fitted, none accentuated her as a woman. For five years, she’d avoided calling sexual attention to herself. For five years … ever since she’d lost Nico.

Although, the hunger in his glittering eyes now seemed to make a mockery of her efforts to disguise herself.

He opened the door wider and let her through.

As she walked across the opulent room to the window, the hair at the back of her neck stood on end and she knew he’d watched her progress. She’d always known when Nico was looking at her. She turned slowly from the bird’s eye view of the wintry vineyards to find him blatantly staring. Her skin tightened and her breasts begged for his skilled touch—but too much was at stake to be swayed by her body’s physical responses. Nico could lose his inheritance, his career, even his identity.

He held up a bottle of champagne. “Drink?”

Now of all times, she needed a clear head. “No, thank you.”

He poured something from the bar for himself. If his tastes hadn’t changed, it’d be a pinot noir.

While he was distracted with his task, she drank in the sight of him—the thick, dark hair she’d once slid her fingers through; face a little too long to be symmetrical, but still more dear to her than anything … except the same face in miniature. Their precious son.

Oh, God, she couldn’t stand this tension one minute longer—she had to know. “Tell me what you came to New Zealand to say, Nico.” Being able to say his name again gave her heart wings, but she wouldn’t let herself forget what she risked by being here.

Seemingly relaxed, he leaned a hip on the galley-kitchen counter. “I want several things, but let’s start with my nephew.”

Her heart stalled and she felt the blood drain from her head. “You want Mark?”

Nico looked down his proud nose, appearing every inch the Italian aristocrat that his mother had been. “He’s of my blood and he’s lost his father. I’d like to build a relationship with the boy.”

For a crazy moment, she’d thought he wanted to take her son away. But—she swallowed—this was almost as bad. “You know that’s not what Kent would have wanted. You two had sworn to never set eyes on the other again.”

It’d been the breach that sent Nico off on his own for three years—making his own millions on the stock market, becoming a tabloid darling as one of Australia’s richest playboys. She’d tormented herself by reading the magazines, insanely jealous of any woman photographed on his arm, yet praying he was happy.

“What Kent wanted is irrelevant at this point. Do you think he wanted to die and leave his son fatherless?” He waved away her protest. “I will see the child and I will become an uncle to him.”

As much as Nico may believe that, if she allowed the contact, the truth would come to light too soon, and he wouldn’t thank her for the consequences. He would more likely resent her, possibly blame her.

“He might be fatherless, but he has his mother. Decisions about who my son will know, and when, are mine. He’s happy with his life here and he’s close to his grandparents and friends.” She bit the inside of her cheek hard, knowing she had to be cruel to be kind, but still hating saying the words. “He doesn’t need you.”

Nico took a deliberate sip of his drink then rested his glass on the bench he still leaned on. “Regardless of whether he needs me or not, he has a heritage. His family has been in the wine industry for generations, it’s in our blood, in our DNA. Mark will inherit his share of that business one day and he needs to grow to understand it.”

It’s in our blood, in our DNA.

Beth flinched. Nico believed it was in his blood.

How often had she heard him talk of his heritage this way when they were together? It would destroy him to know the information detailed in letters Kent had obtained, that Nico was an illegitimate son—not a son at all. The vineyard was no more in his blood than it was in hers.

And it would crush him to find he had no biological connection to the father he loved. She’d always thought Nico and Tim seemed more like brothers as they worked together on their estate. Their love and admiration for each other was beautiful to see.

When Kent had ambushed her with the letters—using them to blackmail her into marriage—she’d known she had no choice. Tim Jordan had suffered three major heart attacks only eight months earlier and the whole family had been cautioned by the medical staff that he needed to avoid stress.

If she’d refused to comply, Kent would have released the pages, maybe even splashed them through the tabloids. Nico would have been destroyed and Tim’s stress at finding out Nico wasn’t his son could have brought on another heart attack. She’d known Kent didn’t care about jeopardizing his own father’s life—he was still bitter that Tim had divorced his mother for Nico’s more than twenty years earlier.

Kent had never forgiven any of those involved—Nico and Nico’s mother, or their father—for the marriage that had usurped him and his mother, Minnie. The marriage that had seen them moved from the main house to a cottage next door.

It had been up to Beth to stop Kent the only way she could—by agreeing to his proposal.

That very day, she’d left the country without a word to the man she loved like no other. The man standing before her.

But everything was different now. Kent was dead. She hadn’t yet found where he’d hidden the letters, but that was only a matter of time.

From this point on, decisions were hers alone.

After an agonizing amount of thought, Beth had decided to come clean and tell Nico everything … but not until after Tim passed away. According to medical opinion, that would likely be in the next twelve months. Severe stress might tragically shorten that time period and that was a chance she couldn’t take.

She walked to the windows, needing a greater distance between them for this conversation. “Mark will be fine. He spent time with Kent on the vineyards here and in the cellar.” Though, in truth, that time had been rare.

Nico straightened, eyes determined. “But who will continue that education now? You have an obligation to your son to let him know his family. It’s his birthright to learn from a Jordan about our legacy.”

She rubbed her upper arms, chilled to the bone by the truth in his words. Marco did deserve time with his real father. Tearing her gaze from Nico’s, she turned to look at the view of the naked vines waiting in limbo for spring before they could burst forth with life again. She’d been in that same limbo for five years.

She felt him move behind her. “But let’s not fight, bella.” His voice was deeper, seductive.

His searing hands rested on her almost bare shoulders and smoothed a path to her upper arms and back again. The touch ignited sensations in her body that she hadn’t felt since he had last lain his hands on her skin. Five long years. His palms trailed down to her wrists and he moved a step closer so she could feel his body heat from behind.

She’d dreamed so often of this moment, of being here with him again … but this was wrong—nothing like her fantasies at all. This wasn’t the sweet, tender Nico of years ago.

Though why would he be? As far as he was concerned, she’d betrayed him. And he was right—no matter how pure her motives, she had betrayed him. Even acknowledging that, it hurt to know he no longer loved or trusted her.

She stepped away from his touch and faced him. “What are you doing, Nico? You can’t turn up out of the blue and assume rights that ended when we broke up.”

“When we broke up.” He reached out and gently took her hands in his. “I’m not sure we is the right word when talking about the end of our relationship.” His alluring tone belied the meaning of his words, but his eyes didn’t lie. They were pained, tormented.

Her knees weakened, seeing the hurt she’d caused him, so she locked them to stop from swaying and firmed her resolve. “This is not the best time to get into that. You said you had paperwork to discuss.”

“You have a good point,” he said, voice dark. He ran his thumbs in circles on her palms, setting off a domino effect of sparks throughout her body. “When will be an appropriate time to discuss our relationship, do you think?”

With great effort, she wrenched her hands away and tucked them under her crossed arms. “I have no interest in the topic at all. I consider it closed.”

Eyebrow raised, he stepped back to retrieve his wineglass. “I beg to differ.”

“It takes two to have a conversation.”

He sank down into an armchair and sipped his wine. “It takes two for many things. Conversations. Relationships. Love.”

She raised her chin a little. “I said I won’t discuss this.”

Nico shrugged, but there was a gleam in his eye. “Then we’re at an impasse. Take a seat.”

Warily—Nico didn’t normally give up once he’d decided he wanted something—she sat in the farthest chair from him, a dining stool near the kitchenette.

“There are papers that you need to sign as Mark’s guardian. I don’t know what Kent arranged for the personal fortune his mother gave him, but you probably know he didn’t yet own any stocks in the family business.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding once. “Your father still owns them.” Kent had never shared much about his financial status beyond the allowance he gave her to run the household, but the lawyer acting as Kent’s executor had explained this much.

“The shares in Jordan Wines were to be divided equally between us, his two sons, in four years’ time or on his death, whichever came first. The three of us had already signed a Deed of Gift to that effect.” He picked up a sheaf of papers from the coffee table. “Now he wants Kent’s share to go to Mark and he doesn’t want to wait. He’s been deeply affected by Kent’s death,” he said, his gaze fierce, “especially as they’d been in a semi-estrangement that he still doesn’t understand.”

Beth swallowed. They both knew her marriage had been the start of those tensions. But she’d never wanted this—any of it. In fact, they were the two people she’d been trying to protect—Nico and his father. If Nico knew the truth, he’d be put in the untenable position of choosing between two evils: his strong sense of right and wrong would compel him to tell his father the truth, which could lead to him being disinherited, and bringing on another heart attack, endangering his father’s life. To say nothing of his father being haunted in his final days, knowing his dearest son wasn’t even his.

Or, Nico could choose to keep the truth from his father and the secrecy would eat at him like acid. His relationship with Tim would never be as close, as solid, ever again. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Beth couldn’t put Nico in that situation.

He swirled the deep red liquid in his glass. “Dad wants to divide the company between Mark and me in the next few months.”

Beth felt her jaw slacken. “But Mark is a little boy!”

He shook his head dismissively. “No one expects a three-year old to inherit this kind of fortune right now.”

Kent had told his whole family that Mark was born a year later than he had been—not wanting Nico to put two and two together. And since none of the family in Australia had ever met her son, it’d been a relatively easy charade to pull off. She wouldn’t comment on that particular problem yet—she’d find a way to fix this.

She spread damp hands over the pink fabric on her lap. “I think it would be better for Mark if your father leaves all this for now. It’s too much weight on small shoulders, even to just know it’s coming.”

“We agree at least on that. But it’s my father’s money and his decision to make. He’s naming you and me as joint trustees for Mark’s share until he’s twenty-one.”

Suddenly, Beth couldn’t breathe. Joint trustees? After Kent’s death, she’d started to rebuild the pieces of her life. Had made a plan to expose all the secrets once Tim passed away. Then Nico had knocked on her door and scattered all her plans—and her thinking—just by his presence.

And now this. It was too much, too soon. She labored to draw in enough air but still couldn’t fill her lungs.

Nico’s expression changed almost imperceptibly from arrogance to guarded concern. “Beth? Are you all right?”

She needed air, fresh air, and to be away from the man of both her dreams and her nightmares. She dashed for the door, picked up her bag and coat and ran as fast as she could.

Two

Nico gave her twenty minutes head start before jumping into his rented Alfa Romeo, gunning the engine, and following.

Twenty wasted minutes where he’d thought she was genuinely upset. His first impulse had been to follow her, make sure she was okay, but he’d tamped that down, knowing he was the last person she’d want to see. Given their estrangement and current situation, he’d only distress her more.

Then he’d remembered what a consummate actress she was.

Any woman who could make him believe she was in love with him—and he’d believed it to the bottom of his soul for almost a year—was a world-class performer.

He thumped the heel of his hand on the steering wheel as he sped past fields of bare grapevines. He couldn’t believe he’d been taken in again, and so quickly!

Hot air blasted from the heater; already boiling from the inside, he jabbed the off button. Her show of distress had called to a fiercely protective streak—one he thought had died five years ago—and he’d let her walk out. But from now on he wouldn’t let his guard down even an inch. He was here to meet his nephew, find Kent’s copy of the Deed of Gift … and lure the woman who haunted his dreams back into his bed. For one night.

The torment of Beth’s betrayal had never left—through each successful venture, each new woman that came and went within days or weeks, the pain of losing the woman he’d loved had buried itself deeper inside his chest, festering. And the occasional news through the family grapevine—such as the birth of her son to his brother—had ensured the humiliation, the pain, never healed.

Nico ground his teeth as he held the steering wheel in a death grip. He knew it’d been slowly killing him—so it was essential he purge it all now. He needed to make love to her one last time.

He roared into her tree-lined driveway deep in the winery’s estate, and cut the engine.

Striding to the entry, he reined in his emotions. The key to success was to stay on top of his game. No outbursts from his hair-trigger temper.

He thumped on the door. “Beth, let me in.”

Noises came from inside the house but none from the other side of the door. More noises, more movement—she was home, just not letting him in.

He thumped on the heavy wooden door again. “Beth, I’m not going away.”

The door wrenched open to reveal Beth barefoot, in the same shapeless pink dress. Though it was shapeless, it nevertheless showed enough of her figure to fire his passion, as it’d done at his hotel room door.

She seemed troubled, but not surprised, to see him. “Nico, please leave me alone. The papers can be dealt with by our lawyers.”

Not a chance. He strode past her into the warmth of her house.

Turning, he took in the room with its roaring fireplace, decorated in colors that were pure Beth—delicate pinks, pale greens and ivory. Either Kent had trusted her sense of style, or he hadn’t cared.

His gaze rested on the woman who’d closed the door, but still gripped the handle behind her, as if for support.

The want, the need for her that always lurked below the surface surged up to flood his system. “I can’t leave you alone, even if I wanted to.”

“W-why?”

She’d seen it in his eyes, he knew she had—the unadulterated lust he felt had made her stammer. He took a step toward her, slowly, softly. “Because we have unfinished business.”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Nico, people break up all the time. Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

“Here’s the thing, bella. I don’t remember us breaking up. I remember making love to you in the vineyards under the light of a full moon.” He took another step forward. “I remember you pledging yourself to me for eternity, and I remember driving you home.”

“Nico, please—”

He held up his hand to stop her, then he snapped his fingers in her line of vision. “The next thing I know, you’ve left the country to marry my brother.”

Her face twisted in an impersonation of guilt. “I wish I could have talked to you—”

“I can see why you didn’t, though. Wouldn’t want any messy situations with Nico.” He planted his hands on his hips, the agony and shame of that day still raw in his chest. “Wouldn’t want him to ask for an explanation or, God forbid, plead with you not to leave.”

And the disgrace of it was, he would have pleaded. At least he’d been spared the indignity of baring his weakness. Now he would not be weak.

“Nico, I—”

“One thing I wondered, though—” he prowled another step closer, eyes narrowed “—was it a spontaneous decision when a better offer came up? Or were you using me all along to get to the richer brother?”

Like a switch had been flicked, her eyes became arctic. “Which did you decide I’d done?”

“Kent told me that he offered you money to marry him, so I’m thinking it was probably a combination of the two.” And hadn’t Kent been gleeful in delivering that news? In delivering the final checkmate in their lifelong rivalry. “You must have thought all your Christmases had come at once when your target offered you money to do something you’d been planning anyway.” He laughed but it sounded bitter even to his own ears.

The color drained from her face—a reaction she couldn’t have faked, so he’d obviously hit the nail on the head. Pain ripped through him—more pain, when he’d thought he’d felt all the agony he could. He pushed it away so he could continue and took a step forward. “He bought you fair and square. So tell me, Beth, what will it cost me to get you into my bed? I expect the price has gone up since then.”

She pressed her hands to her chest. “Nico, don’t do this, please.”

He raised a sardonic eyebrow and closed the last distance between them, leaving their bodies almost touching. “Is it purely a cash transaction, or do you prefer real estate and jewels?”

She slid sideways, moving across the room to put a couch between them as a teardrop fell and traced a path down her cheek. “Nico, I’m sorry.”

He swallowed, making himself remember that crying was an easy feat for an actress.

A second tear followed the path of the first. “You’ll never know how sorry I am for what you went through.”

He watched her hands turn white as they clasped together. So, perhaps she had a conscience about betraying him after all? But words came easily, and these did nothing to assuage the ache in his chest.

He took off his suit coat and threw it over the couch she was hiding behind. “You’re sorry.” He shook his head slowly. “You finally said it. For all it’s worth.”

Beth heard the dismissal in his tone and bit down on her lip. She’d once known Nico as well as she’d known herself—but this man was a stranger. “Will you accept my apology?”

Nico walked through an archway into her living room and paced before coming to lean a shoulder in the doorway to the hall leading to Marco’s room. Thank God her son was gone for the weekend.

Nico crossed one polished black shoe over the other. “You wounded my pride by leaving with my brother. That’s not an easy thing to forgive.”

“I understand that.” She softened her voice. “Honestly, I do.”

He pushed off the doorway to stand tall and proud. “Do you really? You’re sorry for humiliating me in front of my family? For selling yourself to a man who hated me from the day I was born?”

She knew the real hurt that he wouldn’t voice. For breaking his heart.

If her heart hadn’t stopped bleeding since being wrenched from its home with his, how much worse must it have been for him to be left behind?

Then, as if a veil lifted from before her eyes, she glimpsed deep inside him to the real Nico, so loving and sweet beneath the hard man. The Nico he hid from everyone, even himself.

Before she could change her mind, she went to him, but she didn’t do it for the bitter man before her. She did it for the Nico she’d loved more than life itself—for the pain she’d unwillingly caused. She did it for the Nico who was still somewhere inside him, hurting.

An arm’s length away, heart racing, she stopped.

He watched her closely, face inscrutable.

Being this close to him made her ache to move the last step. To touch him. To taste his skin. To feel his touch. Her body reacted to him as if no time had passed. As if they still belonged to each other.

But that time of belonging was long gone. And she was more sorry for that than he could ever know.

She held out her hand, a peace offering, trying to convey the regret that overwhelmed her without using words, which he now distrusted.

Heat flared in his brooding eyes and his jaw clenched, but he didn’t move.

He felt it, too.

The explosive sparks they generated when they were together. It’d been there again since he’d knocked on her door earlier this morning. Perhaps what she was doing would set a match to the tinder, but she remained standing, arm outstretched, offering him her hand.

Then his gaze softened and he came to her, wrapping her in his embrace and pressing her close. His body felt different to her memories—more solid, he’d filled out beautifully. She felt him shudder as she wound her arms around his neck, and they stood there, motionless for timeless minutes.

But then she pulled away, not meeting his eyes.

He didn’t make a move to stop her.

She turned and walked away, needing space from the waves of emotion and desire still rolling through her.

“Beth,” he rasped, but she couldn’t turn back or she knew she’d take him to her bed and that would only make everything so much more difficult … make his leaving utterly unbearable.

She’d always worn her heart on her sleeve with him, and if she was to keep the secret from him about his illegitimacy until after his father passed away, then shemust keep emotional distance.

She’d apologized, and that was the last time she could afford to drop her guard around him.

If he caught her in a moment of vulnerability, and asked her the right question—could she be sure she wouldn’t blurt out the secret that could hurt him and his father so deeply? She’d been incredibly fond of Tim Jordan, and for him to lose the son of his heart while he was terribly sick would be cruelty. The only solution that was fair to Tim and Nico was to wait.

The phone rang in the next room and she had to restrain herself from running to the kitchen for the salvation of the call.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Jordan, it’s Noela from the winery.”

Kent’s secretary. As Beth leaned back against the bench, she caught sight of Nico from the corner of her eye. He stood in the doorway, leaning a hand against the top of the frame, watching her.

Beth swallowed and looked away. “What can I do for you, Noela?”

“I’m just checking to see if you’re coming to the launch of Trio tonight.” Noela paused, then continued in a gentle tone. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, losing Mr. Jordan, and we’d understand if you decided you’d rather not come.”

Beth grimaced at the thought of attending the grand event tonight—the last place she wanted to be was with a huge crowd now Nico had turned her world upside down. All she really wanted to do was crawl into bed with a tub of chocolate ice cream. But she’d made a promise. “I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jordan. I know the staff will appreciate it.”

Beth hung up the receiver and poured herself a glass of water. She needed Nico out of here, now, before he found out about the festivities at the winery.

Knowing Nico, if he’d heard about the evening he’d have mentioned it by now, and she thanked the fates she’d be able to attend alone. This impromptu reunion was hard enough to handle without it being played out in front of one hundred of New Zealand’s high society.

Nico pushed off the doorframe. He took three steps forward and leaned his hands on the bench on either side of her, trapping her with his body. “You walk away from me too often.”

Heat radiated from him, reaching out and encircling her. Something she’d never forgotten about their precious time together was that she was never cold with him—his body heat had been enough for both of them when he held her.

Would it be so bad to close her eyes and sink into his heat now? To forget the crazy situation they were in and let herself have one more night with the man who still owned her unwise heart?

His breath was warm against her ear, and she heard the moment it changed to a shallower, more uneven rhythm.

No matter what tricks her body was playing on her, she couldn’t let herself forget this wasn’t her Nico. This was a different man, one she had no future with. She couldn’t survive their separation a second time. She might be protecting him by not telling the truth about her marriage, his son, his heritage, but she had to protect herself, too. Guard her heart.

She placed her palms flat on his muscular chest, feeling his racing heart beneath, and looked up into his unfathomable, black-lash-fringed eyes. “Nico, you have to go. You’ve got your apology, now we have to move on with our lives.”

Slowly, he straightened. Then he smiled. “You’re right. It’s time for me to go. I know you’ll need plenty of time to get ready for tonight’s launch. Shall I pick you up at seven?”

The blood drained from her head. He knew! But of course he knew—the head office of Jordan Wines in Australia would know about any event one of the wineries held, let alone one on this scale. It seemed Nico was better at holding his cards close to his chest these days.

But she couldn’t go through with her final performance as Kent’s wife if Nico attended. Playing Kent’s wife was difficult at the best of times, but with Nico in the same room, affecting her so intimately, it would be near impossible.

Nico would be a center of attention—there hadn’t been a visit from Nico or Tim Jordan to this winery in over five years, despite their regular visits to the other Jordan Wines’ estates. And people would be watching her, concerned for her. So any interaction between her and Nico would be witnessed by everyone present. Any undercurrents between them would be seized upon.

She schooled her features to casualness. “You don’t need to put in an appearance.”

“And forfeit a chance to honor my late brother? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He smiled with no hint of humor. “I did read the amendment to the program correctly, didn’t I?”

The confident set of his shoulders, the raised eyebrow told her that he knew very well that the winery had changed the publicity for the launch of the new wine, Trio, into an event to both celebrate Kent’s life and unveil what had become his final blend.

She moistened lips that were suddenly dry. “The seating arrangements and catering have been finalized.”

“I sent an RSVP before I left Australia,” he said over his shoulder as he strode into the receiving room and picked up his jacket. “Seven o’clock, or do you have to be there earlier?”

She followed, with rising panic scrambling her thoughts. She only had one line of reasoning left. “Nico, we can’t go together.”

He slid his arms into the jacket and straightened his tie. “Nonsense. We’re Kent’s family, they’ll expect us to arrive together.” He checked his watch. “It’s two o’clock now, I’ll be back in five hours.”

In two steps he was beside her, dropping a kiss on her cheek. It lasted a little long to be platonic, and his lips moved almost imperceptibly on her skin, but before she could react he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Beth collapsed into the couch and dropped her head to her hands. The hundred guests attending tonight would include Kent’s grieving friends and colleagues. Nothing improper could happen.

And her reaction to their embrace had proven one thing: if resisting Nico was her strongest line of defense, she was in deep trouble.

Three

The sound she’d been dreading came at precisely one minute to seven. Beth walked on trembling legs to the front door. She knew it was Nico—no one else could make a simple knock so commanding. As her hand rested on the brass knob, she took a last glance at herself in her full-length peach gown. It was hardly a dress of mourning, but she loved the skirt of gossamer layers and sheer sleeves in the same shade of peach—and she needed every thread of help she could get tonight to feel strong. Between the celebration of her late husband’s life and her wildly unsettling escort, she’d be lucky to still be sane by the end of the evening.

She smoothed a trembling hand over the bodice, took a deep breath, then opened the carved wooden door.

In an instant, her mouth went dry. Nico stood before her, tall and broad, wearing a tuxedo and a come-to-bed smile. The only time she’d ever seen him in a tuxedo before now was in magazine photos—when they were younger, he’d mainly worn jeans and T-shirts, the clothes he worked in at the vineyards.

But now he was a mature man, and the intense reality of the promise in him called to a place deep inside her, the girl she’d been and the woman she was now. His jaw was shadowed, despite having been freshly shaved. His thick, black hair, though neatly combed, still twisted in the rebel waves she remembered so intimately.

His eyes swept over her, and every square inch of flesh he touched with his gaze quivered, begged for his hands to follow, then his mouth.

“You’re a princess.” His voice was low, husky.

She couldn’t speak, could barely think. Then he leaned in to kiss her cheek, and her eyes drifted closed to savor the feel of his lips as they lingered. In a distant corner of her mind, she was surprised by his tenderness but she refused to spoil the moment by dwelling on his about-face. When he broke the contact, her eyes opened and rested on his mouth.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make an appearance at all tonight. Which is fine by me.” His head angled and began another descent.

Without thinking, she raised her face to meet his kiss, then froze. What was she doing? She blinked once, twice, then pulled back, slowly shaking her head. This was a bad idea on so many levels, from Nico’s coldness since his arrival this morning, to her attending the launch tonight—the winery staff had worked hard for months to put this event together, and since Kent was gone, the least she could do for them was attend.

“We should go.” Her voice was a cracked whisper.

He lifted a brow, yet gave no other reaction, just stood there, filling the doorway with his intensely masculine presence.

Ignoring the heavy lassitude of arousal in her belly, she grabbed her coat and bag from the entrance table and closed the door behind her. Nico didn’t say a word, but his eyes smoldered. She swallowed, then, knowing it was now or never, she headed for his car.

In the ten feet to the passenger side, he overtook her and held open the door.

Careful to avoid touching him in case she set off another sexual showdown, Beth slid into the seat then watched him walk around to the driver’s side, mesmerized.

He moved with such a casual confidence, as if he was so sure of his place in the world. Yet, what would happen when she revealed the secret she held? He could lose that place, lose everything he held dear.

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. In some ways she wished she never had to tell him at all. He was the only man she’d ever loved. He meant too much to her to be unaffected by his pain. At least by waiting until his father passed away, she was saving him from heartache on that score … but only if she made no slips between now and then, and not let herself forget the stakes for even one moment. She had to ignore the fact she desired him like no other and keep her distance, stay out of his bed.

As he took his seat, he raised an eyebrow at her. “I told you to be careful about looking at me like that.”

She dropped her gaze to her lap, trying to bring her emotions under control. Five years ago, she’d shared her every thought, her every emotion with him, but now was the time for self-discipline. If she let herself fall under his thrall again, she might ruin everything.… One lapse when she wasn’t thinking straight, one careless comment about things that couldn’t be spoken, and he’d know there was more. And he wouldn’t rest until he knew everything.

He started the Alfa and pulled onto the private road around the vineyards. They traveled in silence for several minutes before he causally said, “Tell me about Mark.”

The air leeched from her lungs. Did he know? His eyes remained on the road, as if he hadn’t asked a loaded question.

“Why would you want to know about my son … Kent’s son?”

He spared her a hard glance. “Regardless of my feelings about his parents, that boy is my nephew. There’s nothing more important than family.” He squared his shoulders.

“Nico—”

“Tell me about Mark.”

Her hand snaked up to circle her throat. “He turned three last April.” Luckily, she’d remembered to lower his age by a year to maintain Kent’s story, and keep the secret of Marco’s paternity safe for now. “He’s bright and full of energy. He loves my parents’ Dalmatian, Misty—I suspect he’s conned them into letting Misty sleep on his bed tonight. He usually does.”

“Why doesn’t he have his own dog?”

She owed Kent no loyalty, but she wouldn’t speak ill of the dead. “It hasn’t been … suitable for us to have a dog yet.”

Nico’s jaw tightened. “Kent wouldn’t let him.”

She shrugged. “Kent didn’t like dogs much.”

“Every boy should have a dog.” He smoothly took a corner, then glanced over at her. “I noticed something strange at your house today.”

Dear God, the trip from her house to the winery on the other side of the estate had never seemed so long. “You did?”

His fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel and a frown line appeared between his brows. “There wasn’t one photo on display of your son. I know Kent wouldn’t send photos to our father, but none in your own home? That strikes me as odd for a woman who had albums full of us when we were together. And albums more of family—and your dog.”

Her stomach clenched painfully. She’d rushed around and taken down all photos of Marco when she’d arrived home from Nico’s hotel room. She knew chances were high he’d follow her—he always had when they had fought. He’d never let anything between them remain unfinished. Now she suspected he’d always follow, because he had to win. And the only way to protect Marco from this mess was to keep him hidden—in reality and in photos—until all secrets were out.

Kent had been careful that Nico or his father had never seen a photo of Marco. The seemingly petty denial had been the last straw leading to the complete breakdown of his relationship with Tim Jordan—but completely necessary for Kent’s twisted plans of blackmail.

She clasped her hands together in her lap until her knuckles went white. Just a weekend. Nico would be gone soon, and in a year or so all secrets would be out in the open.

For now, she needed an excuse. “I’ve taken them down and sent them away to have duplicates made for my parents.”

“How thoughtful. I’m sure my father will appreciate his copies when they arrive.” His voice was tight with leashed emotion. “It’s broken his heart to never meet or even see a photo of his only grandson.”

“Of course.” She closed her eyes for a moment, silently cursing herself for not thinking of a better excuse. Naturally his father would want one—as would Nico. And then everyone’s lives would explode.…

Nico pulled into the driveway of the winery, and braked in front of the familiar and beautiful sandstone building now lit up with thousands of fairy lights for the launch.

Uniformed attendants opened their doors before one took the keys from Nico and drove the Alfa away. Nico’s arm came around her waist. “Shall we?”

She wanted to melt into his warmth and solidity but that would be a bad idea at the best of times. Here, at a dinner to honor Kent’s life, it was the worst of times. “I don’t think you should touch me here, tonight.”

He stiffened, and didn’t remove his arm. “You belong to Kent here, is that your point?”

“It’s not a matter of belonging to anyone. It’s a matter of propriety. Of respect for the dead. Respect for your brother.”

“Respect for my brother,” he murmured, his eyes unreadable. Without warning, he swooped down and gave her one brief, hard kiss. It was over before she had time to react, but she knew exactly what it meant—he’d just reminded her that Kent was gone … and Nico was here.

She stood motionless, a little dazed, and glad now for the support of his arm at her waist as her body clamored for more—more of the kiss, more Nico.

Then he released her, stood back and swept a hand toward the entrance. “After you.”

She walked in on unsteady legs, a little in front of him, and though she only looked forward, her whole attention remained riveted on the man behind her, as he’d no doubt intended. The kiss might have been devoid of emotion, but her entire body had reacted to the touch of his lips. Was still reacting, from the warmth rising under her skin, to her aching breasts.

But through her physical reaction, she had the worst feeling regarding the way he’d repeated her words about respecting Kent—he’d taken it as a challenge. What he’d do about it was anyone’s guess, it was hard to know anything with this new Nico—he wasn’t the openhearted, giving and impulsive boy she’d once loved. He’d become a rich, handsome, cold enigma.

One she was still finding difficult to resist, and more so by the hour.

As she stepped through the door to the function room already filled with guests, a huge display caught her eye. A photo of Kent dominated the room, twice as big as life-size. An assortment of flowers sat in baskets at its base, and tributes to his life and achievements lined the wall.

On the other side of the room was the publicity for the new white wine, Trio, a blend of three grape varieties. Arrangements of olive green bottles covered the tables and a banner of the blend’s label was strung across the room.

The strains of modern classical music filled the air and open fires blazed in the six fireplaces built into the walls. The crowd was broken into small clusters of people, their conversations more subdued than at other launches she’d attended, but given the circumstances, she supposed that was to be expected. Nico had joined a group of three men in tuxedos on the other side of the gathering, but she knew he watched her from the corner of his eye. She felt it.

She looked back to the tribute to her late husband. The man who’d made her life a misery.

Noela, Kent’s former secretary, glided across from a group nearby and grasped Beth’s hands, offering a sympathetic smile. “We’re so pleased you could make it tonight, Mrs. Jordan.”

Grateful for the friendly greeting—a greeting without the hidden meaning Nico’s words often took—Beth returned the smile. “Thank you, Noela.”

“We asked Mr. Jordan if he’d like to say a few words about his brother, and he’s kindly agreed. I know you’re probably not up to it, but if you’d like, then you’d be more than welcome to speak, as well.”

Beth’s mouth went dry. “Speak?”

“About your husband.” Noela squeezed her hands. “Only if you want to.”

“Um, no—” Beth swallowed hard “—I don’t think I could.” She was having enough trouble keeping her secrets from Nico without having to convince a whole roomful of people that she was grieving for Kent.

“That’s understandable, I knew it would be too soon. I’ll just go and get everyone together for Mr. Jordan.” After one final squeeze of her hands, Noela slipped away.

Beth’s stomach twisted as she watched Noela pass through the crowd, pointing toward a podium at the front of the room, guiding people across. What would Nico say to these people about a brother who had tormented him his whole life? It was hard to imagine why he’d even agreed to speak—he could only have been thinking of Jordan Wines and keeping up appearances.

Her eyes sought Nico through the people milling about and found him near the podium, talking to Andrew, the acting winemaker. At that moment, Nico looked up, met her gaze and arched an eyebrow. Her pulse stuttered. He was planning something.

Noela took the podium and waited until the mur-murings of the crowd died down. “Thank you all for coming tonight. As you’ll be aware, we’re not only launching our latest wine blend, Trio, but we’re paying tribute to the blend’s creator, Kent Jordan, who passed away recently. Kent’s brother Nico Jordan has flown out from Australia, and has generously offered to share some memories of his brother with us tonight.”

Polite clapping rippled through the crowd as Nico walked the short distance to the podium, his face appropriately somber.

He looked around the crowd, taking them in, nodding as he acknowledged their support. Then he found her, blinked slowly, and held her gaze as he began speaking. “On behalf of Kent’s family, I’m touched that you’ve come here tonight to show your respect for my brother.”

Beth froze. He’d opened his remarks with her phrase about respecting his brother. He was planning something. She folded her arms tightly under her breasts, hoping against hope he would behave decently.

“Losing Kent has been a tragedy to our family,” his deep voice rumbled across the room, “made worse by our father being too sick to travel to the funeral. Since I stayed with him to offer comfort in his grief, I’m glad for the opportunity tonight to say a few words about a brother unlike any other.”

Nico turned, making connections with people in the audience—a consummate public speaker. But she knew he was speaking to her tonight. She dragged in a breath, held it, on edge about what was to come.

“Kent was a formidable force, a man who always achieved his goals, letting nobody and nothing stand in his way. He pursued his beautiful wife with that same sense of purpose, not being deterred until he had his ring on her finger.” His gaze speared hers and she almost swayed on her feet with the shock. She knew he’d planned something, but he’d dared to reference the way she’d left him? Sheer force of will made her stand taller and meet his gaze without flinching. Even though no one else would understand his meaning, it still galled her that he’d be so bold.

Nico continued in the same deceptively solemn tone. “It’s tragic that such a young and strong marriage has been severed.” Eyes from around the room turned to her, and she met some of them, accepting their sympathy, concealing the rising tension in her body.

“In fact,” Nico said, eyes not leaving her, “I don’t feel I can properly pay tribute to my brother without his beautiful wife here with me. Beth, if you wouldn’t mind?” He held out a hand to her and the entire room turned, offering encouraging smiles, propelling her forward.

Her heart raced double-time, her hands were damp, but there was nothing she could do—short of rudeness—to avoid joining Nico at the podium.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, finding the composure she’d need, then the crowd parted for her and she walked to the front of the room. When she reached him, he pulled her close, placing a brotherly arm around her shoulders, but his eyes were full of the devil.

“Nico, please—” she whispered but he turned back to the crowd, some of whom were discreetly wiping away tears at the beauty and the heartbreak of the scene before them.

“The depths of emotion that Kent’s dear wife and I share right now can’t be put into words.” His hand moved from her shoulder to her neck, a kind, comforting move … except for the thumb that moved in sensual circles at the nape of her neck, hidden from the crowd, but sending shivers across her skin.

“Kent’s death was a shock for all his friends and family. And for those of us left behind, for my father, Mark, Beth and me—” he turned and looked into her eyes as he spoke “—all I can say is that at a time like this, at least we have each other.” He pulled her into a hug and the audience clapped their approval.

The embrace launched a flood of sensation in her body—her skin heated, her muscles quivered. This was so very different from the tender way he’d held her this morning—it was …more. More fervent. More intimate. More bone-melting.

And, it was lasting too long. An entire audience watched this embrace. She tried to discreetly push him away but he wouldn’t budge.

“Nico, stop it,” she said in his ear.

“But, my Beth, I’m enjoying it immensely,” he murmured. “Why would I stop?”

But he released her and, still grasping her hand, led her away to another sympathetic round of applause from their well-wishers.

As soon as they’d cleared the main crowd, she whirled on him. “How could you?” she whispered fiercely.

“How could I what?” he said, low, as he nodded to a man across the room. “The winery wanted a touching scene and I gave them one. It’ll be good PR for Trio.”

“You know what I’m talking about.” She narrowed her eyes. “I hope you’re satisfied with the show you put on.”

One corner of his sensual mouth kicked up into a grin. “Actually, I’m not satisfied. Yet.” He dug his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, all cool unconcern. “I’ve had enough of the business talk and the homage to my half brother. One drink and we’re leaving.”

Leaving? They’d barely been here half an hour. She kicked up her chin a fraction and stood still. “I can’t leave. This is to honor my husband. People are mourning here. I should be seen to be mourning.”

Nico stopped beside her, his eyes narrowed, seeing more than she wanted him to. “But you’re not, are you, Beth?” He smiled, smug at his realization. “There are no secrets between you and me—you had no love for him, never did.”

She looked around. Too many people would be eager to hear this and make something of it. “Not here, Nico.”

“Not here? You think this is going too far?” He moved closer, his eyes on her face. “Oh, bella, I could do much worse than this.”

Her body yearned to move that last few inches and lean into him, ached to be held. But it couldn’t happen, especially not here. “You said your speech would help the PR for Trio. If you create a scene, it’ll undermine that.”

He shrugged one shoulder, a casual, dismissive gesture. “You misunderstand the nature of publicity. If I hadn’t said anything up there, it would have been disappointing for the guests. People hate disappointment. But you and I creating a scene …” His voice was low, beguiling. “The kind that’s quiet, unobtrusive, but watched by every person in the room. Our guests would find that delicious and Trio would quickly become infamous.”

This was about making Jordan Wines’ guests happy? No, the predator in his eyes was too marked to miss. This was all about the two of them. About the simmering chemistry that was still between them despite how she fought it. She swallowed hard and took a small step back. “They won’t have anything to watch if I walk away.”

His hands snaked out and captured one of hers, holding it platonically between them, a concerned brother-in-law comforting the bereaved. But the heat of his palms made her skin sizzle, and sparks danced up her arm before heading to her core.

And he knew, damn him. The corner of his lips curved ever so slightly, relishing his victory. Though she was pleased to see he wasn’t unaffected himself—the pulse at the base of his throat beat strongly.

He began a discreet sensual massage of her palm, her fingertips. “All I’d have to do is reach over and run one finger down your cheek, and I could have you in my arms. You still react to me, I saw that today.”

Beth shivered. She couldn’t let that happen. She disengaged her hand and took another small step back. “This night should be as sacred as a wake.”

He glanced around the room. “I’m not sure if anyone here is mourning Kent—his nasty streak wasn’t saved just for me. It ensured he never earned much respect or popularity.”

“Be that as it may, this is still wrong.” She turned and walked across the room needing as much distance from Nico as she could get. Because he’d hit the nail on the head—she still reacted to him. And that was a luxury she couldn’t afford when she needed to hold secrets close to her chest for everyone’s sakes.

As she took a proffered glass of wine from a waiter, Noela appeared at her side. “I wanted to check if you’re all right.”

Beth plastered a smile on her face. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Noela leaned in, concern in her features. “You seemed very affected on the stage. I hope we haven’t pushed you beyond endurance.”

Beth held back a grimace and looked over at the back of Nico’s head as he charmed a group of staff on the other side of the room. Noela and the winery weren’t the ones pushing her limits tonight. That distinction went to the man whose broad shoulders looked like pure sin in his tuxedo. “I really am okay,” she assured Noela.

After Noela left, she was quickly replaced by a stream of people offering their condolences and marveling at her strength in attending tonight. After twenty minutes, Beth was suffocating. She excused herself and walked out to the terrace, sipped her wine and looked over the moonlit vineyard. Below the distant twinkling lights of the town were rows and rows of bare vines. There was something comforting about the order of it, the neatness and … rhythm. She took a deep breath of the brisk night air and leaned the cool glass against her flushed forehead, glad for the respite from people, noise and the expectation of conversation.

“It’s a striking view.” The voice from the shadows was low and smooth and achingly familiar.

Beth wrenched around. At the end of the balcony, obscured by the dark, was a faint shape. If she hadn’t heard the voice, she wouldn’t have known for sure if someone was there.

But there was.

Nico.

Her heart tripped over itself as she nonchalantly leaned a hip on the stone balustrade that edged the terrace, facing him. “You’ve spent your whole life around vineyards and wineries. I’m amazed you still see past the hard work to the beauty.”

“There’s not much that’s more beautiful than a fertile, lush grapevine.” He paused and she heard the sound of a glass being deposited on the stone tiles. “Except perhaps a beautiful, lush woman.”

Now her eyes had adjusted to the blanket of darkness, she could faintly discern his outline. He sat on the wide balustrade, his back to the view. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one else was watching before taking one step closer, flirting with danger. There was something about Nico being hidden in the dark that seemed deceptively safe. A dangerous illusion, she knew, and yet she took another step forward.

Simulating a casual pose, she swirled the wine in her glass. “I expected you’d be inside, working the room.”

“They don’t need me for that. I made the speech, the winemaker and other staff can take care of the rest.”

She remembered the few events she’d attended with him years ago where he’d been happy to let others get the most attention. “You don’t like the limelight, do you, Nico?”

“Come down here and I’ll tell you the answer.” It was the voice of Lucifer, tempting her with the apple.

“No,” she said simply and sipped her wine. She’d come far enough.

“I think you will.” She could hear a smile in his voice and it sent a frisson of heat across her skin.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you don’t want to go back inside.”

That was true. As much as she wanted to avoid another scene with Nico here at Kent’s tribute, she wanted to go back into that crowd even less. She cast another look around—this was technically a public place, so nothing improper could happen. It had the added benefit of having no audience—he might have put on a show earlier, but he had no spectators for his wordplay out here. A public place that had no audience—it might seem like a contradiction, but it served as the best protection she could ask for tonight.

She moved down, to within a few feet of him. “Tell me about the limelight.”

“Closer.”

Even this close, she couldn’t see him clearly in the blackness.

“I think here is just fine.” She wrapped her free arm around her middle and lifted the wine to her lips, taking the last sip.

“For now,” he conceded and she could see the moonlight glint on his teeth as he smiled. “I don’t seek limelight the way Kent did. I don’t hate it, either. I don’t have strong feelings about it one way or another.”

“If you don’t hate it, why not stay inside tonight and make use of it for Jordan Wines?”

He held out his hand for her empty glass and placed it beside his. “I had something on my mind and wanted space.”

“Kent?” she whispered.

His eyes were strangely reflective, the predator that had lurked there earlier absent. “You.”

He reached out and snagged her hand, dragging her closer, until she stood in the vee made by his thighs. A rush of heat pooled low in her belly, goose bumps erupted across her skin.

Head cocked to the side, he looked up into her eyes, his expression pensive. “Why are you on my mind so much?”

Their gazes held for an eternity and her breathing quickened. There was an honesty in his eyes that reached out to her heart, as if in the darkness of the balcony, the world could disappear and leave them cocooned in shadows. It was that dangerous illusion at work again.

Attempting to break the spell, Beth casually shrugged a shoulder. “Because you’re here in New Zealand to see me.”

“Not just now,” he said quietly. “Always.”

How she wanted to believe it was because he’d never stopped loving her, but if that had been true, he’d have come for her. Would have at least checked on her after Kent took her out of the country. It was a senseless fantasy she’d only let herself have on dark, lonely nights—she knew if he’d come for her, her sacrifice would have been for nothing. It was far better that he’d stopped loving her when she left.

So instead she smiled and offered the only plausible reason. “Probably because I’m the only woman to walk away from you.”

His mouth hooked up at one corner. “Maybe.”

He laced his fingers in hers and tugged her closer still, into the circle of heat that surrounded his body. A shiver raced over her skin, as if her flesh recognized his was close.

“Nico, what was between us is long over,” she said, knowing it was to convince herself as much as him.

“Really?” he asked lazily, and abruptly the reflective mood morphed into an electric simmer.

Beth began to step away, but he held her hands firm. “If it’s over,” he said, “why are you standing here in the dark with me?”

She could smell his clean scent, wanted to bury her face in his strong neck, but kept her voice even. “Because we were talking.”

“Would you be standing this close to any of the men inside if you were talking to them?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Would you let them do this?” He encircled her in his arms and brought her flush against his seated body, his chest against her stomach, his face in line with her breasts. Her breath caught at the hard, erotic feel of his erection pressing against her thigh.

“I’d say no, probably slap them.” Her eyes drifted closed.

A hand crept up the back of her neck and brought her head down. “Tell me no,” he said against her lips.

“No,” she said and kissed him.

He tasted of wine and Nico and she couldn’t get anywhere near enough. For one perfect moment, she was back five years ago, kissing the boy she loved on her back porch. Then he growled and nipped on her bottom lip, and she was jolted back to the present. Kissing this dangerous Nico was a new experience, in some ways more darkly alluring. She threaded her fingers through his hair, and he arched his neck back further to deepen the kiss.

She leaned into him, over him, resting most of her weight on his broad chest as she looked down into eyes as dark as the night that hid them. A shiver ran down her spine when he broke the kiss and watched her for a beat.

“Nico,” she whispered, but wasn’t sure if she said it aloud or if it was only in her head.

He kissed down her neck, pressed his tongue into the pulse point at the base of her throat, arms still holding her tightly to him, thighs closing to hold her in place. Trying to regain her breath, Beth looked out over the top of his rumpled hair to the distant lights of the town. They looked like a fairy tale. She looked down at Nico trailing moist kisses along her dé colletage—if she was in a fairy tale, this was not the prince. The Beast, perhaps.

Gently, he slid one of the sheer sleeves down her shoulder, his lips following the path he created until he reached the top of her breast. He paused and laid his cheek against her, breathing heavily.

“Beth,” he groaned, then arched his head back. She could no more resist the invitation than she could stop breathing; she leaned down and met his mouth, kissed him again, pressed her length as close to him as she could.

Voices near the terrace door sharply interrupted the haze she’d slipped into. They both froze as two women walked through the door. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “They won’t see us.”

“Oh, I know!” said a woman in a tight-fitting red sheath. “I just about cried when he hugged her up there. After all she’s been through, I’m glad someone is looking out for her.”

Beth felt Nico’s grin against her cheek and now she did feel like slapping him.

“I wouldn’t mind him looking out for me,” a second woman replied in a high voice. “He is seriously gorgeous.”

Beth felt a hot, moist tongue run along the arc of her ear before Nico sucked her earlobe into his mouth. Her knees wobbled but he held her firm.

“Isn’t he ever?” Red Sheath said. “I’d buy as many bottles of wine as he told me to. They should have him on the label.”

The joint sensation of gentle tugging on her earlobe and Nico’s warm breath in her ear was as bone melting as the kiss had been. Beth absentmindedly thought that the women at the door had no inkling of just how sexy this man really was.

“Look,” the second woman said, “there’s John Willis standing on his own. I’ve been dying for an introduction to him, come and talk me up.”

The voices faded as the women rejoined the party.

Beth squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. She knew she should leave too or she’d end up doing much worse than making out on the darkened terrace. This time enveloped in the shadows was like a fairy tale. It wasn’t real.

She pulled her sleeve back onto her shoulder. “I need to go back inside.”

“I need you here,” he said, voice rough, sending her pulse racing again.

Nothing in the world could be more appealing than Nico in a tuxedo, hair rumpled from her fingers, telling her that he needed her. But she couldn’t stay.

She pulled together all the self-will she could muster to resist him. “Nico—”

“Okay, you’re right.” His eyes were as full of the devil as they had been at the podium. “Let’s go back.”

He stood and straightened his tuxedo, finger-combed his hair.

Wary of his swift about-face, Beth took a step away, but couldn’t afford to waste the opportunity for a scandal-free end to this tryst. “I’ll go first,” she said, adjusting her dress and feeling around her mouth for smeared lipstick.

Nico wrapped an arm tightly around her waist. “We’ll go in together.”

Before she could protest, he led her to the large doors and over the threshold, into the edge of the crowd. He was all confidence and composure while she struggled to catch up with the abrupt change of both mood and scenery. One moment she’d been kissed senseless by Lucifer himself, the next she was again in the middle of her husband’s wake.

He grabbed two glasses of Trio from a passing waiter and handed one to her, letting his fingers linger on hers a second too long. “As I said, one drink then we’re leaving—feel free to mingle while you have it. I’ll be back for you. Soon.”

The heat in his eyes as he turned and walked away was unmistakable. He intended to seduce her, to make love to her, tonight. Her skin quivered and tightened, her belly felt heavy with desire still simmering from his kiss on the terrace moments ago.

Although, she corrected herself, lovemaking wasn’t a part of his plans. He had sexual plans for her, yes, but they’d be fuelled by lust and passion alone. Not love.

And, shockingly, even knowing that was no protection. Fighting her attraction for Nico was as futile as it had ever been.

But … what if she gave in? Stopped fighting the inevitable? If she went to his bed, it would all be over by tomorrow. He’d leave never knowing the truth about Marco, about the blackmail … and she’d have one more memory of him to cherish.

Yes, her body whispered. Do it.

Under her clothes, her naked skin felt the caress of the soft fabric of her gown; the tips of her sensitized breasts strained against the bra cupping them. Every step she took, every movement, became part of a sensual dance.

She spoke to several winery and vineyard workers, sipping her wine as she mingled. Then called Andrew the acting winemaker over. “I’m so sorry, but I have a headache—it feels like a migraine coming on. I need to go home.”

His face was a picture of concern, causing a ball of guilt to form in her stomach. “Of course—it’s too soon. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. As I’ve said before, anything we can do for you, let me know.”

“Thank you, you’re too kind.” Her voice cracked with the force of her desire—she could feel Nico behind her, waiting. Fortunately, people would assume it was raw grief. No one could see what she was thinking, what she was about to do.…

“May I call a taxi for you?”

She offered a small smile of thanks. “No need. My brother-in-law is here, I’ll ask him to take me home. Please tell the other guests I wasn’t feeling well?”

“Certainly.”

She walked back to Nico and looked him calmly in the eye, determined not to give away how fast her heart pounded, not to anyone in the room—including him. “I’m ready to go.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised. His eyes searched her face again, and she felt the heat flash right through her. She knew what she wanted, and he knew she wasn’t fighting it anymore.

Finally, he nodded. “Good.” He took her hand and tucked it into his elbow, marking her as his—if only for tonight—as he walked her from the memorial of her husband.

Taking her to his bed.

Four

As Nico guided her through the hotel-room door and took her coat, Beth caught sight of the interior and hesitated.

Every surface was filled with flickering candles, enough to light the expansive room with a soft glow. Vases of out-of-season honeysuckle scented the air with their perfume, and—

And it was obvious he’d planned the whole thing. Had planned it before he’d picked her up for the evening. Before she’d agreed to come here.

Panic clawed at her chest. What was she doing here? She wanted him to make love to her, but she wanted it to be making love. This had nothing to do with love. It was unfinished business to him. Perhaps even some kind of challenge to lure her back to his bed.

The man who’d seemed reflective—emotionally exposed—for a few minutes on the winery’s terrace was long gone. Maybe she’d imagined him. This Nico was the one who’d knocked on her door this morning, the man with a heart of granite and eyes alive with sin. She was out of her depth, playing games with the devil.

The tension of this moment, this night, this entire day, threatened to overwhelm her, but she couldn’t let it. Praying some vestige of the Nico she’d loved still existed inside—the man who would have moved mountains to save her from pain—she turned.

She faced him with what she hoped looked like resolve, when it was anything but. “I’ve changed my mind.”

He prowled toward her, his eyes glittering. “Are you asking me to believe you could walk away from this?”

He cupped her face and when she met his heated gaze the lines blurred, past and present and loss and need blending until even she didn’t know if this would be heaven or hell—all she knew was it was inevitable.

He lowered his mouth to hers and she parted her lips without thought. His tongue plunged inside as he gripped her upper arms and she fell into the kiss, fell into him.

She’d been starving for him these long years, and now his mouth was on hers, she wanted more, needed it all. It was more than a kiss. It was coming home.

His arms crushed her into his solidness, held her tight, but not close enough, so she pulled at his bow tie, opened buttons and slid her hands across his scorching skin.

He groaned and shuddered, but didn’t break the kiss. How had she lived without this? Apart from the joy of motherhood, she’d been a dead woman walking since she’d last lain with him.

Pushing the sides of his shirt apart, she touched as much of him as she could, relearning his body, discovering new planes and angles. His biceps were larger than they’d been, and she scraped her nails along their firm bulk, needing to know his changes. His abdomen felt as flat and hard as it’d always been, his skin as warm as she had remembered.

He pulled away, breathing ragged, eyes closed as if regaining control. Then he dispensed with his shirt and dangling bow tie in one motion. Her breath hitched. He’d always been magnificent, but now he was beyond even that. A Roman god far from home; a sculpture by an Italian master come to life.

There was a smattering of chest hair on his golden-brown skin where once he’d been smooth. She reached to feel, tentative at first, but then more boldly—there had been more changes but this was still the chest she knew. The one she’d loved so many times in her bed, in his, in the open air of the vineyard, in the barrel rooms of the winery late at night … wherever they’d found moments of privacy when their passion rose to undeniable heights.

She stroked across his pectorals, hungry for as much skin as she could touch, then lower, trailing her fingertips along the ridges of his abdomen.

“Your fingers have magic in them.” His voice was rough, strained.

Lips like velvet skimmed hers, the darkly alluring taste of him engulfed her. His kiss was beyond the physical; it bordered a mystical experience, and she was powerless to do more than be swept along with its intensity.

Without breaking the connection, he unzipped her dress and the peach fabric slid to the floor, pooling at her feet. Then he wrenched his mouth away, captured her hands. “Just give me a moment to see you.”

She arched her body, trying to make contact with his heat, his solidness … just him. Even touching his naked chest was more than she thought she’d be granted again in this life and the thought of it all being almost within her reach made her a little dizzy.

“Nico,” she moaned, “touch me. Don’t stop touching me.”

With one hand, he unhooked her apricot lace bra and threw it behind him to land on the couch. He filled his hands with her breasts, cupping gently, rubbing his thumbs across their undersides. “Exquisite,” he rasped. “Every square inch of you is utterly exquisite.”

Then he knelt, and slowly—agonizingly slowly—he pulled down her panties. She leaned forward and ploughed her hands into his hair as he continued the measured descent of her last remaining piece of clothing. When he reached the floor, she lifted one high-heeled foot, then the other so she could step out of the panties, before he threw them to join her bra.

She was naked but for her three-inch silver heels and she reached for them to complete the task.

He stopped her hand. “No. They stay.”

Past caring about shoes, she reached for his belt, but again his hand denied her. “Nico, let me—”

“We need to slow down,” he said, his voice husky with want. “I’ve thought about this—wanted this—for so long, I don’t want the experience to disappear in a blur of frenzied need.”

She blinked. He was right. This would be their only night together—she couldn’t afford to waste it.

She sucked in a long breath to steady her voice. “All right. We savor this.”

A wolfish smile on his face, he picked her up and carried her to his bed, before carefully laying her on the satin quilt. He remained leaning over her for long moments, resting on fists on either side of her, his eyes holding a remnant of the tenderness he used to show her without disguise, and her heart caught in her throat.

Then it was gone, and, as he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself over her—but still not touching, the only emotion in his eyes was raw lust. The strength of that desire for her melted her inside and out. She quivered and clutched at his back, trying to bring him down to her. She’d been ready for him since she’d first opened the door to find him on her porch twelve hours ago. She’d been aching with arousal since he’d picked her up for the launch only four hours ago. And she’d been in an almost mindless haze of need since his kiss on the winery’s terrace. Now she was well past ready to take him into her body, needed it more than all else.

“Now,” she breathed. Her nails dug into his buttocks through his trousers, trying to draw him closer.

He didn’t relent, even an inch. “You agreed. We slow it down.” She pushed harder on his buttocks, not caring what she’d agreed to. He grabbed both her wrists, raised them above her head and secured them with one large palm, half his mouth twisted into a grin. “I won’t be able to savor for long if you keep doing that.”

His mouth dipped to hers, his tongue sliding between her lips with the confidence of a man assured of his welcome. Without her hands, the only greeting she could give was with her mouth, and by arching her hips up to meet his, still held above her like a burning magnet.

He groaned as her pelvis brushed his arousal, and he followed her as she sank back into the bed, grinding himself against her, releasing her hands to stroke down the side of her body.

The feel of his weight on her almost brought her to the edge. “Nico,” she breathed. “God, Nico.”

He leaned in, his free hand cupping her breast as he captured its peak between his teeth and tugging gently. The pulse at her core throbbed in the rhythm of his mouth; her body writhed beneath him of its own volition. Her mind was lost, her sanity possibly lost with it, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. All that mattered—all that existed—was Nico.

His hand left her breast and traced a lazy trail down her ribs, across her abdomen, the coarse pads of his fingers generating exquisite sensations. She quivered with the desire that was alive in her belly, between her legs, longing to take him, to be taken.

His hand came to rest at the juncture of her thighs, dipping to glide across the spot that ached for him more than any other. A sound ridiculously like a whimper escaped her mouth, so she bit down on her bottom lip to contain further outbursts.

Nico’s mouth moved across to her other breast just as one finger slid inside her, then a second, his thumb still caressing the point above them. He was assailing her from every front, overwhelming her with sensation.

Beth bunched the quilt in her fists, wanting more. The sensations he was producing weren’t enough, but so much she was about to combust.

Breathing choppy, she reached to touch his chest, his arm, whatever she could connect with. She was dissolving, vanishing in a cloud of desire, rational thought had fled, only need for Nico remained.

She moaned, tossing her head from side to side, unable to stand another second. “Nico, please,” she gasped.

Victory gleamed in his dark chocolate eyes for a split second before he lowered his mouth to the center of her desire and took her over the edge with his tongue. She exploded in wave after wave of tormenting pleasure, climbing higher still, to a place so blindingly high, nothing else existed. And through it all, she felt Nico’s arms around her, knew she was safe, knew she was in the one place she belonged more than any other.

When she floated down slowly from far above the ground, sweet ripples still coursed through her body. Nico held her while she was limp and breathless until, awareness returning, she nuzzled into him. Then he discarded his trousers, rolled a condom down his length and with one, smooth, powerful motion, he was inside her. Air hissed through his clenched teeth and his eyes drifted closed. In the moment of stillness, she reveled in the feel of him filling her, joining with her, making love to her again.

Then he withdrew and, desperate, she couldn’t restrain an incoherent cry of protest.

He lifted one of her knees, then gripped her foot still wearing the three-inch heel, and pressed a hot, wet kiss to the inside of her ankle. He lifted her leg to rest over his shoulder. Her body trembled at the eroticism of the move, but her heart beat powerfully for the man who looked deep into her eyes. They shared a connection, it’d always been unmistakable, but after this, surely neither of them would ever be able to deny it again. They fit together—belonged together.

He slid again into her slick hot depths, supporting himself on the strength of his arms, her leg over his shoulder moving in his rhythm, and within seconds she lost herself in his strokes. Her nails dug into the taut muscles of his back and he dipped his head to kiss her, their heated breaths mingling into one.

She was already so close to the peak again that for a moment, she tried to hang on, to make this last as long as she could. if this was all he offered her, this one night, then she wanted to squeeze every last drop of beautiful pleasure—every moment of this intimate contact with her Nico.…

But his sensual invasion continued, took her higher, and his hand slid between them, to where their bodies joined, and with a skilled flick of his thumb her body imploded in sparkling glory, melding, merging with him, with the universe.

Within moments, Nico followed, then lay beside her, gasping for air.

“I don’t think I can move,” she whispered. Boneless, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to move again.

His eyebrow arched. “You’d better recoup quickly,bella, because you’ll be telling me you want me again very soon. All night long, in fact.”

And when he reached for her, she surprised herself by moving to meet him, her recovery complete already.

Tomorrow she’d analyze how this night changed things between them, but here and now was for one thing only, and she met his kiss, his hands, willingly, ready for whatever he had planned.

Five

Nico woke slowly, wrapped around Beth. He blinked at the early morning sun slanting through the windows, feeling warm and content for the first time in years. Other women hadn’t given him anything like this, nor had financial success.

He pressed his face into her neck, smelling her alluring musky scent. Beth and heat and sex and wanting him. God, he’d missed this. Missed her.

Ever since she sold herself to his brother.

The contentment he’d felt only moments earlier evaporated, leaving the dark, heavy ache that had been his constant companion for five years. The ache of betrayal. Every muscle tense, he edged away from her sleeping form.

He’d badly needed one more night with her, but that had to be the end of it. He could never allow a relationship with her again.

Beth sighed in her sleep, nuzzling into the white pillow, her tousled pixie-cut hair partly covering her face. She looked so innocent as she dreamed in his bed, so vulnerable. A spark of doubt flared in his heart—could he walk away? Something in his chest shifted. Would she misunderstand their night together and expect more? Would she be hurt when he left?

He shook his head to clear it of worthless sentimentality. This was the woman who’d walked out on him without a backward glance. He would not let himself be fooled again. Clenching his jaw, he slammed the door to his heart closed. He wasn’t the same trusting person he’d been. He’d made sure of that, had built barricades and fortifications around himself that no one had penetrated. And they never would.

Without making a noise, he slipped from the room, grabbing his trousers on the way. He dialed the concierge while he zipped his pants.

“Good morning, Mr. Jordan. How may I help you?”

“I’d like a cab.” He glanced at his watch. Ten past eight. “To arrive in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m afraid there was a big event at one of the wineries last night and all the taxis are on airport runs. I rang them a few minutes ago for another guest and they said there’ll be a two-hour wait.”

Nico swore low and hard.

“Would you still like me to make the booking?”

“No, I’ll organize something else.” He hung up and rubbed his still-sleepy eyes with the heels of his hands. He should have thought of that—it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known about the function. Hell, he’d attended the damn thing with Beth.

He’d have to take her home. How could he face her after the night they’d shared—drive her all the way home, then say goodbye at her door? When he’d woken ten minutes ago, he’d come dangerously close to forgetting her betrayal—he couldn’t make that mistake. A clean break—sending her home by cab would have been perfect.

He’d just have to create a clean break himself.

He stalked back to the bedroom, slid on a shirt and leaned against the door frame as he buttoned it. The sight of her sprawled under his sheets triggered his groin to harden for her again, bringing back memories of the night before under those same sheets. And in the shower. And against the wall.

He bit back a groan. It was over and he needed her gone ASAP—before he did something stupid, like crawl back into that bed and make love to her again.

“Beth,” he croaked. Then cleared his throat and called again. “Beth.”

She stirred and stretched and he clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her. Slowly, she sat up and the sheet fell to expose breasts he’d worshipped last night.

“Nico.” One hand pushed her hair from her eyes and her lips curved into an uncomplicated smile. He tightened his mouth and watched the warmth and joy suddenly vanish from her expression and he knew she was aware things were different this morning. She blinked and gathered the sheet to cover herself.

He blew out a hard breath. “I’ll drop you home.”

She nodded, cynical understanding in eyes as blue as the ocean’s depths. “Of course.” She sighed, then cast a look around the room. “Just let me get dressed, or would you prefer to throw me out on the street wrapped in a sheet?”

He stared blankly at her. She was trying to get a rise out of him, but he wouldn’t let her get the upper hand—she’d had it five years too long. Realizing his hand was clenched, he deliberately released it.

“Your decision.” He shrugged to show her how little it meant to him. “I’ll be downstairs, starting the car.”

He grabbed his keys, phone, wallet and a jacket before slipping on his shoes. Then he walked out the door, not letting himself turn back. He hated that she still had so much power over him that he couldn’t even trust himself to stay in the same room as her and not make love to her again. But in five long years, he’d never let anyone—especially a woman—have any power over him. Beth had taught him the danger in that.

He pulled on his jacket in the elevator down to the underground car park. When the doors opened, he strode over to the Alfa and thumbed the keyless lock. After sliding into the driver’s seat, he began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. How long would she take? Maybe she’d string out getting dressed to make him wait. To take back control. The old Beth wouldn’t have done that.…

His stomach dropped as he amended the thought—the person he’d thought she was wouldn’t have done that. How much of the persona she’d shown him had been real and how much fabricated? The question had tormented him to the brink of madness when she’d first left, but he’d buried it so deep that the only times he’d allowed himself to ruminate over it was when he woke in the early hours of the morning after dreaming of her.…

The elevator pinged its arrival and annoyingly, his pulse spiked. If that was her, she would have done little more than slip on her clothes before following him. The doors slid open to reveal Beth in the peach gown she’d worn the night before, her hair not brushed. Desire stirred at her just-from-bed look, but he suppressed it. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by lust now.

She walked toward the car, her heart-shaped face expressionless, as if she’d erected a wall of protection around herself as effectively as he’d done only minutes earlier. She sat in the passenger seat, head regally tilted, refusing to make eye contact with him.

Good. His hands tightened on the wheel before he turned the key and the car roared to life. He didn’t want small talk, either.

They traveled the short distance to her house in complete silence, the mood inside his car icier than the cold winter morning outside. The town was quiet this early on a Sunday morning, but he supposed it was never as busy as any place he’d lived. Its lines of suburban houses were modest, yet charming in their leafy streets. They passed a small school with murals of laughing children painted down one side. Was that where his nephew would go to class? He pressed his lips together. Another of his agendas for this trip. He wasn’t leaving until he’d met the child.

In coming to New Zealand, he’d intended meeting his nephew, and this time neither Beth nor Kent would stand in his way as they had done since Mark’s birth. The boy deserved to know his family, and as soon as Nico made contact, he’d ensure the next step happened quickly—his father, Tim, would meet his only grandchild as he longed to do. Nico would do anything for his father.

He pulled into the edge of the winery estate where Beth lived, then down her tree-lined driveway. When he reached the house, he left the car idling. He had a pithy exit line ready, but his attention was caught by another car and an older couple at Beth’s front door. He recognized her parents immediately, as they waved across to his car. Beth had said Mark was with them this weekend, which meant the boy was probably inside the house this minute. Triumph surged.

Finally.

He cut the engine, got out and made his way over to the older couple, Beth rushing behind him.

Too late to keep him from meeting his nephew now.

He held out his hand to her father. “Mr. Jackson.”

Her father didn’t move as he took in Beth’s disheveled appearance, then turned to Nico, his face a picture of rage and disapproval. “So you’ve come sniffing around again.”

Nico withdrew his hand, realizing a moment too late that he was dropping this man’s daughter home after having obviously loved her all night. Any father would be prickly. Nico squared his shoulders. “I want you to know—”

Her father’s stance was rigid as he cut Nico’s words off. “You abandoned our daughter when she—”

Tucking stands of mussed hair behind her ears, Beth inserted herself between them and grabbed her father’s hand. “Dad, Nico was just leaving. We don’t want to hold him up.”

She glared at Nico—which was obviously supposed to be his cue to leave. Nico looked from daughter to father. There was something missing here.

Mrs. Jackson looked flustered. “We just dropped in for Mark’s spaceship. It’s his favorite and he forgot to bring it for the weekend.”

“Nico,” Beth said, eyes determined, “don’t let us hold you up. I’m sure you have a million things to do at the winery before you leave.”

He held her gaze and found something deeper behind her determination. Her eyes had always been so clear to read, at least to him, and even though she fought now to keep her emotions covered, he could still sense a smothered desperation. Desperation to stop him.

Nico crossed his arms over his chest. “Firstly, I’m not going anywhere until I’ve met my nephew—”

“Nephew?” her father repeated, eyes narrowed.

“And secondly,” Nico continued, “I want someone to tell me what I’m missing here that—”

A small face peeped around the corner and lit up when he saw Beth. “Mummy!” He threw himself into her arms. “I forgot my space cruiser.”

Beth picked the child up and held him tight, her strawberry blond hair buried beside his mop of darkest brown. Nico frowned. That picture didn’t seem right. He had always visualized Beth and Kent’s child to be fair, like them.…

His stomach went into free fall and only his iron will stopped him stumbling backward as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. It couldn’t be possible, surely, and yet.

The boy struggled to be let down and when Beth complied, he grabbed his grandfather’s hand and tugged. “Let’s go, Granpa. You said we could go to the park when I got my cruiser.”

Mark’s eyes were the color of espresso, his face almost a replica of Nico’s own childhood photos. Could it be possible?

His mind flew back to their last night together before Beth had left, making love in the vineyard, her body bathed in moonlight. To the nights before that. Had they used protection? Every time? Could this small child be the product of his and Beth’s love all those years ago?

More than instinct told him he was right. Mark washis child, regardless of the age Kent and Beth attributed to him. Obviously a lie to keep him from the truth. To keep him from his son …

As the body blow slammed into him and the world tilted, Nico struggled to remain standing.

His son.

He had a child.

A small boy of his own flesh and blood. A thick ball of emotion filled his throat and he swallowed again and again, trying to move it. That perfect little person tugging on his grandfather’s hand was his. He’d wanted children so badly when he was younger, had wanted children with Beth.

It seemed his wish had been granted—goose bumps broke out across his skin as he felt a sudden chill—it’d just happened without his knowledge.

Mind reeling, he focused on Beth. “We have to talk. Now,” he said through gritted teeth.

Frowning, Mr. Jackson looked from him to Beth and back again. “You didn’t know, did you?”

“No,” Nico ground out.

For a suspended moment, everyone seemed shocked, either by the secret or its release. No one spoke a word or moved a muscle. Even Mark seemed to notice the unnatural stillness and froze, barely blinking.

Then, breaking the spell, Beth’s mother leaned over to kiss her daughter on the cheek. “We’d better get going.”

Her father held out his hand, offering the handshake he’d rejected only minutes earlier. Nico took the proffered hand and shook it once in recognition that this man hadn’t been part of the conspiracy of lies and secrets. He was glad of that at least—he’d always respected Beth’s father, both her parents.

He watched as the older couple bundled Mark into the car and drove away, too furious to dare look down at Beth.

Once they were gone and there was no chance of upsetting his son—his son—Nico turned to the woman who’d betrayed him on so many levels. “Well?”

In the distance, a falcon screeched as it flew up into the blue sky, possibly disturbed by the car carrying their son. Trying to hold back her panic at the menace in Nico’s voice, in his eyes, Beth’s gaze was momentarily drawn to the bird.

Then, resigned to the confrontation that surely must follow, she drew in a breath of icy air and nodded. She turned and led him through the door into her living room.

They were barely inside when he spoke through stiff lips, his eyes cold. “I want a paternity test.”

Beth felt her throat constrict. Of all the reactions she’d expected, she’d never considered this one. “You’re questioning his parentage?”

“Of course he’s mine,” he all but hissed. “But you’ll provide confirmation of the fact.”

She nodded. It was a reasonable request under the circumstances, even if it hurt that he’d ask. “I’ll call a lab first thing tomorrow morning.”

Then, all pretence of control gone, Nico threw his arms in the air and words exploded from his mouth. “How could you keep my son from me?”

Beth stood her ground, refused to flinch but, oh, how could she explain the unforgivable? “If I’d had a choice—”

Nico held up a hand, eyes blazing. “We always have choices.”

Every muscle in her body went limp. He was right.She had to tell him, despite the consequences.

At least part of the story—enough for him to understand. Heart racing, she walked on unsteady legs to one of the antique brown armchairs and sank into its soft comfort, trying desperately to compose words in her head. Words that had to make sense despite the trembling in every muscle and nerve of her body.

She took a deep breath and met Nico’s eyes. “Kent blackmailed me into marrying him. I had to leave that night and never contact you again.”

Two steps and he loomed over her, a wild intensity in his every feature. “So Kent didn’t pay you?”

Money? She felt sick. How could he have believed she’d been for sale? Though how could he not, given how she’d left.

“No,” she whispered. “All the money in the world …” Her voice trailed off as she felt the shame that he thought so little of her, when she still loved him.

Nico scrubbed both hands through his hair and dropped into the other armchair. “He told me that he bought you.” But it was no longer an accusation; instead he seemed to be analyzing the information.

“I’d never be with a man like Kent if I had a choice. And … and I didn’t know I was pregnant then.”

“Would it have changed your mind?” His eyes zeroed in, trapping her with his demand.

Would it? She pressed her fingertips to her temples. Pregnancy or no, Nico and his father would still have been in as much danger from Kent’s information. And yet family meant so much to him.…”I honestly don’t know. Once Kent found out I was pregnant, he added that as another condition to the blackmail. If I told you about our son, or if I had any contact with you, or if I told you what he blackmailed me with, then …”

Her voice trailed off, but Nico supplied the ending. “Then he’d make public whatever it was he was holding over your head.”

“Yes,” she whispered. And no matter how bitter and cold Nico had become, she couldn’t be responsible for robbing him of all he held dear. Or robbing his father of peace in his last days.

He leaned forward, forearms on his knees, eyes hard and suspicious, obviously still unwilling to believe her completely. “Tell me what he had on you.”

She’d known the question was coming, but still it sent a shiver down her spine. It would be so easy to tell him here and now, such a relief to share the burden she’d carried alone for five years. She licked dry lips, tempted almost beyond endurance.

But telling Nico he was illegitimate would be the ultimate act of selfishness. Robbing him of his family, heritage, career, everything, just so she could feel better? That would make her no better than Kent—not caring how actions impacted others. If she told him before Tim passed away, Nico would feel compelled to tell his father the truth, to allow his father to change his will—and stress could shorten Tim Jordan’s life, according to the doctors. If Nico couldn’t bring himself to stress his father, then their last days would be tainted by secrets not shared. How could she do that to either of them? At least if she held the secret for now, Nico and Tim’s goodbyes would be untainted and full only of the love they shared. It was what they deserved, and she wouldn’t let Kent’s manipulations ruin that.

“Beth, tell me what he had on you,” Nico repeated.

A hand crept up to circle her throat and she thought of the letters, still hidden somewhere. After Kent’s passing, she’d turned his bedroom upside down looking for them, before checking his office at work when she’d gone in to clear his personal items. The letters had been nowhere to be found, but she hadn’t given up yet. She couldn’t let them be found by someone else, just as she couldn’t let Nico know their contents.

“I can’t,” she said, trying to hide the anguish it caused to deny him. “Please don’t ask me that.”

Nico flung exasperated hands in the air. “But he’s dead! Anything you had to fear from him has expired.”

She shook her head in jerky movements. She understood his frustration at the situation—she’d lived with it day and night for so long she barely remembered how it felt to be free.

She exhaled and met his gaze. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” The set of his shoulders, the way his eyes bored into hers, the twist of his mouth all proclaimed his distrust of her words, and she had no weapons to challenge it.

She closed her eyes for several seconds, searching for composure in the face of his onslaught. How to make him understand? To let her tell him only once it was safe? “Not yet. One day …”

“That’s absurd.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Kent is dead.”

“I know … but—” She swallowed hard. “Nico, it’s so much more complicated than it seems.”

His jaw clenched and released before he spoke, as if gathering himself. “I won’t stay away from Mark. He’s mine. I wasn’t giving up when I thought he was my nephew—now I know he’s my own son, nothing could make me walk away.”

Her heart glowed with pleasure that Marco’s true father would fight for him even as it wept for the irrevocable damage in the relationship between his two parents.

Nico paced across the room and stood in front of the fireplace, which housed only ashes. The central heating had taken the edge off the air, but the fireplaces were what gave the house the perfect warmth and a sense of home. She hadn’t been here overnight to stoke them. That it was now full of cold cinders seemed appropriate.

Nico leaned an arm on the wall above the brick hearth, his back to her as he spoke in a rough voice. “I’ve already missed his first steps, his first smile—I can never recapture that. Betrayal has cost me seeing my son learn to walk and run.” He turned to face her again, eyes blazing. “And I’ve lost forever the chance to be the one to teach him to throw a ball. I won’t pass up any other firsts.”

His strong sense of family would never let him do anything else. Before this insanity had begun she’d dreamed of having children with Nico, and even then she’d known his commitment to those of his blood would be absolute. At the time she’d been thrilled by the thought. Now it was no less honorable, but the intensity of his devotion to family was bound to complicate everything dreadfully.

However, Marco would get to know his father, Nico would spend time with his son. It was the right thing to do, the best for both child and father. “I won’t ask you to leave him behind.”

But how would she survive being that close? Loving Nico and not having him. Wanting him and keeping a secret from him. It would be the worst kind of torture.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Nico, promise me you’ll leave things between us alone. You’ll have access to Mark, but you won’t push me on details from the past.”

His eyes widened as if she’d asked for the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I’ll promise no such thing.”

Oh, God. Rising panic squeezed her lungs. He had no idea how hot the fire he played with really blazed; she needed to make him see without giving away the secret that would destroy him. She had only one bargaining chip left. “Nico, please. Do it for Marco.”

He paused, eyes scanning hers. “Marco? I thought his name was Mark.”

Beth dragged in a shuddering breath and nodded. She owed Nico this information. “It is, officially.”

She walked to a carved wooden chest and opened the latch, revealing the collection of photos that were usually displayed around the room. The ones she’d rushed to take down yesterday after visiting Nico’s hotel. Part of her futile attempt to hide Marco’s paternity a little longer.

With tenderness, she picked up a framed print of Marco running in the park with her parents’ Dalmatian. It had always been one of her favorites, for the unbridled joy on her son’s face, and for the way he resembled his true father in it.

She walked to Nico and handed it to him, a peace offering. “In my heart, and when he and I are alone, I’ve always called him Marco. He thinks it’s my pet name for him. It was as close as I could come to naming him after you.”

As Nico raised the photo, his throat worked up and down.

Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back—this was Nico’s moment. “It was all of his father I could give him.”

He dragged in a breath, then another before meeting her gaze, his eyes filled with resolve. “But now he will have more. Marco will have me,” he vowed. “You’ve kept him from me for this long, don’t even think about standing in my way as I get to know my son.”

Emotion stung the back of her nose as she shook her head. “I won’t, I swear.”

Barely acknowledging her response, he continued. “And I won’t be a once-a-year father. You’ll have to share him equally.”

He meant it as a warning, she knew, and she took it as one … but not the way he intended. How would she cope with the amount of contact required to share custody? To be so close to the man she loved, yet so far away.

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