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The deep, intensely male voice sent shivers up Mila’s spine, and she turned slowly to face its owner. Jordan Thomas’s eyes were the most captivating she had ever seen—a combination of gold and brown that made her think of the first signs of autumn. They made the masculine features of his face seem ordinary though she knew that, based on the way he made her feel distinctly female, he was anything but ordinary. Light brown hair lay shaggy over his forehead, as though he had forgotten to comb it, but it added a charm to his face that might have been otherwise lost under the pure maleness of him.
She took a moment to compose herself, and then she smiled at him.
Because she was a professional and he was a client.
And because she needed to prove that the effect he’d had on her when they’d first met had been a fluke.
‘Thanks. All a part of the job.’
‘Consoling teenage girls is a part of your job?’
The smile came more naturally now. ‘When the teenage girl is the headline act at my event, yes.’
He shoved his hands into his pockets and the action drew her attention to the muscles under the black T-shirt he wore. Heaven help her, but she actually thought about running her hands over them before she could stop herself.
‘It looks great.’
She blinked, and then realised that he was talking about the event. She nodded, and then peeked out of the tent to where people were beginning to fill the seats of the amphitheatre.
‘It’s come along nicely.’ She noted that the wine stalls were already busy, and she could smell the waft of food from the food vendors. ‘You should pat yourself on the back. It was your idea after all.’
She glanced back at him, saw the slow, sexy smile spread on his face, and thought that she needed to get away from him as she had almost fanned herself.
‘It may have been my idea to host the event here at the vineyard, but I could never have arranged a concert and a movie screening in one night.’
‘It pulls in fans for the concert and romantics for the movie,’ she said, as she had to Greg Thomas so many times before. ‘Who can resist either of those events—or any event, really—under the stars, with delicious Thomas Vineyard wines on tap, on the most romantic day of the year?’
His eyes sparkled, as though her words had given him some kind of idea, and then he smiled at her. A full smile that was more impactful than a thousand of his slow, sexy ones.
‘I need to check everything one more time. If you’ll excuse me?’
Jordan nodded, and then said, ‘I’ll find you later.’
She frowned as she walked away, wondering what on earth he’d meant by that.
* * *
When the movie was about ten minutes in, she found out.
He had come to her and claimed that there was a problem with the wine delivery for those who had pre-ordered boxes to take home with them. Like a fool she had followed him, her mind racing to a million different ways of solving the problem. Only when he led her through a gate past the Thomas house did it occur to her that there might not be an emergency.
‘What is this?’ she asked quietly, even though they were far enough away from the guests that no one would hear her.
‘It’s a picnic. Under the stars.’
A part of her melted at that—the pure romance of it made her feel as giddy as a girl on her first date. But it didn’t change the way her heart raced in panic as she took in the scene in front of her.
A blanket was spread out overlooking the vineyard, and in the moonlight she could see the shadow of the mountains. For a brief moment she wondered what it would look like during the day, with its colours and its magnitude and the welcoming silence.
She shook her head and looked at what was spread on the blanket. A bottle of wine—she couldn’t read the label, though she thought she saw the Thomas Vineyard crest—cooled in an ice bucket with two glasses next to it. A variety of the foods that she hadn’t had time to taste accompanied the wine.
Although she really didn’t want to, she found herself softening even more, her heart racing now for completely different reasons than a man expressing interest in her.
‘Are you going to stay or run?’
She looked up at him, and though his words sounded playful, his expression told her otherwise.
‘Are those my only two options?’
‘I could offer you another.’
She saw the change in his eyes and her body heated.
‘What would you do if I ran?’ she asked, hoping to distract him.
‘I’d run with you.’
She resisted the urge to smile at his charm, and wondered why someone like Jordan Thomas would be interested in her? First, she was his employee. And second, she didn’t have much to offer him. What could a woman with no family and no foundation offer a man like Jordan Thomas of the Thomas Vineyard?
Still, she found herself saying, ‘Pour me a glass of wine, Jordan.’
He handed her a glass with a smile that had her shaking her head.
‘You don’t agree with my methods?’
‘You mean lying to get me to share a drink with you?’
‘Yes.’ He grinned. ‘But you can’t tell me this isn’t a welcome change to having to run around all day?’
‘No, I can’t.’ She sighed, and took a sip from her wine. ‘Drinking wine after a long day with a handsome man should be the only way to unwind.’
She didn’t realise what she’d said until she saw him smiling at her, and then she blushed furiously.
Where had that come from?
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘To tell me I’m handsome?’
She set her wine down. ‘Yes. It’s been a long day.’
‘So I could ask you anything now and you would answer it?’
‘Maybe,’ she said softly, caught by the expression in his eyes.
And then she wondered who this person who was flirting with this gorgeous man was. Because surely it couldn’t be tame, safe Mila. How often had she heard those comments from boys she had dated? From her foster siblings, who’d had no interest in hanging out with a girl who couldn’t bring herself to try drugs or go out drinking every night, no matter how desperately she’d wanted to be liked?
She closed her eyes at the pain, and picked up her wine glass again. It must have been the stress of the event that had her thinking about a past she’d thought she’d left behind.
But before she could drink her wine, Jordan took the glass out of her hand and she froze.
‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ he asked her, and she realised he was a lot closer than he’d been a few moments ago. Her throat dried at the woodsy smell that filled her senses, and suddenly she wished she hadn’t flirted with him.
‘No,’ she answered quickly, her breathing becoming more heavy than she thought could be healthy.
‘Good. That makes this much easier.’
‘What are you talking about?’ She couldn’t take her eyes off him, and knew she should be worried that the realisation only caused the slightest bit of alarm in her.
‘Us.’ He pulled the clip out of her hair so that it fell to her shoulders. ‘I’m glad you won’t have to break another man’s heart so that we can be together.’
‘That’s presumptuous of you,’ she replied, though for the life of her, she couldn’t think of one reason why that was a problem. Even when he had her speaking her mind without the filter she usually employed with every word.
He didn’t respond immediately, and she wondered if she’d said something wrong.
And then her heart stopped completely when his hand stilled on her neck and he said, ‘It should be. Everything inside me is saying that feeling this way about someone without even knowing them is crazy. And yet I can’t help myself.’
His hand moved to her face, and she thought that even if the sky fell down on them she wouldn’t be able to look away from him.
‘So tell me whether I’m being presumptuous when I say I know you feel it, too?’
She couldn’t speak because the pieces that had been floating around in her head since they’d met—and the feelings that had become unsettled the moment he’d introduced himself—told her there was truth to his words.
‘You did all of this to...to see if I felt the same way?’
‘No.’ He smiled, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. ‘I did this to make you realise that you did.’
‘Jordan, I—’
His lips were suddenly on hers, and she felt herself melt, felt her resistance—her denial—fade away. Because as his mouth moved against hers, her heart was telling her that it wanted to be with him. She ignored the way her mind told her she was being ridiculous, and instead ran her hands over the muscles she had admired earlier.
With one arm he moved everything that was on the blanket away and she found herself on her back, with Jordan’s body half over hers. But she pulled away, her chest heaving as though she’d run a marathon.
‘This is crazy,’ she said shakily, but didn’t move any further.
‘Yes, it is,’ he replied, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness.
She raised a hand to his face, pushing his hair back and settling it on his cheek. He turned his head and kissed her hand. And in that moment, under the stars that sparkled brightly on Valentine’s Day, she realised that she might have just fallen in love with a man she had only known for a few hours.
Even as her mind called her foolish she was pulling his lips back down to hers.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_6a9018e1-0012-5e39-b29c-ae8c30cc23a0)
Two years later
JORDAN STOOD OUTSIDE his childhood home and grief—and guilt—crashed through him.
The house was like many he had seen in the Stellenbosch wine lands—large and white, with a black roof and shutters. Except he had grown up in this house. He’d played on the patio that stretched out in front of the house, with its stone pillars that had vines crawling up them. He and his father had spent Sunday evenings watching the sun set—usually in silence—on the rocking chairs that stood next to the large wooden door.
He turned his back on the house and the memories, and looked out to the gravel road that led to the rest of the vineyard.
Trees reached out to one another over the road, the colour of their leaves fading from the bright green of summer to the warm hues of autumn. From where he stood he could see the chapel where he’d married Mila just three months after they’d met.
He shook his head. He wouldn’t think about that now.
Instead he looked under the potted plants that lined the pathway to the front door for the key he knew his father had kept there. When he found it he began to walk to his father’s house—except that wasn’t true any more. He clenched his jaw at the reminder of the new ownership of the house—the house he had grown up in—and the reason he was back, and turned the key in the lock.
He heard it first—the crackling sound of fire blazing—and he set his bags down and hurried to the living room where he was sure he would find the house burning. And slowed when he realised that the fire was safely in the fireplace.
He turned his head to the couch in front of the fire, and his heart stopped when he saw his ex-wife sitting in front of it.
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded before he could think, the shock of seeing her here, in his childhood home, forcing him to speak before he could think it through.
She jumped when she heard him, and shame poured through him as the glass of wine in her hand dropped to the ground and the colour seeped from her face.
‘Jordan... What...? I...’
In another world, at another time, he might have found her stammering amusing. Now, though, he clamped down the emotions that filled him and asked again, ‘What are you doing here, Mila?’
Her fingers curled at her sides—the only indication that she was fighting to gain her composure. He waited, giving her time to do so, perhaps to make up for startling her earlier.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked him instead, crossing her arms and briefly drawing his attention to her chest. He shook his head and remembered how long it had taken him to realise that she took that stance whenever she felt threatened.
‘You want to know why I’m here? In my father’s home?’
‘It’s not your father’s home any more, Jordan.’
His heart thudded. ‘Is that why you’re here? Because you’ll own part of this house soon?’
She winced, and it made him think that maybe he wasn’t the only one unhappy with his father’s will.
‘No, of course not. But I do live here.’
‘What?’
The little colour she had left in her face faded, but her eyes never left his. If he hadn’t been so shocked he might have been impressed at her guts. But his mind was still very much focused on her revelation.
‘I live here,’ she repeated. The shakiness in her voice wasn’t completely gone, but the silken tone of it came through stronger. The tone that sounded like music when she laughed. That had once caressed his skin when she said, ‘I love you.’ The tone that had said ‘I do!’ two years ago as though nothing could touch them or their love.
How little they had known then...
He pushed the memories away.
‘I heard that. I want to know why,’ he said through clenched teeth, his temper precariously close to snapping.
‘Because your father asked me to move in with him after...after everything that happened.’
The reminder of the past threatened to gut him, but he ignored it. ‘So after we got divorced you thought it would be a good idea to move in with my father?’
