He gritted his teeth and surveyed the room of people cheerily drinking his wine, toasting the old man whose presence just across the fence line had cast a shadow over Hugh’s whole life. He wouldn’t be joining in the celebration. He’d get on with his life, just as he had all these years. And maybe now his long-held plans to possess the Waterford Estate would finally come to fruition.
There was just one fly in the ointment. She was sitting across the room from him right now, a strained smile on her face.
Watching Zoe, he was again struck by the difference between the wild child he’d known and the woman who appeared before him. A woman who, if she’d been anyone else, Hugh could admit he found attractive. Very attractive.
Her hair was its natural shiny brunette, none of the bright purple or fire-engine red she’d experimented with from time to time back at school. There were some lighter streaks in it now, probably the result of the California sunshine. Her makeup was restrained, no dark circles of kohl. She’d once liked to draw those on him, as well. She’d insisted it looked cool and that all the male rock stars wore makeup, but Hugh knew Tangawarra and knew that the town wasn’t ready for boys in eyeliner. He’d always washed it off before anyone else had seen.
A smattering of freckles had appeared across her nose—they were new. Otherwise, her skin was still the pale creamy porcelain that he remembered.
Very pale.
A surprising stab of sympathy for Zoe shot through him as Frank appealed to her to get up and speak. He knew she’d hate doing anything of the sort. When he looked across at her, the stark terror on her face sent an unexpected wave of protectiveness through him. Even as he told himself to stay out of it, he found himself stepping forward, about to take the microphone from Frank to save Zoe from the spotlight.
But then she stood up and the blood drained from her face. Hugh knew what was going to happen a moment before it did. It was just like that day right before she’d left town when she’d had fainted in the corridor—only this time he wouldn’t be carrying her to the school nurse.
In a few quick strides he was by her side, scooping her into his arms as her knees collapsed and she fell.
Hugh took no notice of the collective gasp or the mutterings of concern in the room. Heading straight for the side door, he carefully maneuvered them out onto the small walkway that led into the Lawson Estate homestead and to his personal suite of rooms at the back.
He was aware of footsteps following him, but he didn’t pause until he had carefully lowered Zoe onto the navy blue quilt of his bed.
“Is she all right?” Hugh turned and saw that Patricia was watching nervously from the doorway. She seemed to have adopted her neighbor for the time being.
“I think she’s just fainted,” Hugh said. “I’ll just get Morris to—”
“I’m here.” A burly man with a weathered face, Lawson Estate cap and graying beard appeared in the doorway clutching the estate’s sizable medical kit. Morris was Hugh’s foreman, in charge of the day-to-day operations of the Lawson Estate vineyards and had been for as long as Hugh could remember. He’d tended every kind of emergency Hugh could imagine, from tractor and machinery accidents to the scrapes and bumps of guests who’d overindulged and overbalanced. The man had also been witness to all the ins and outs of the Lawson family—from the minor to the traumatic—over the years.
Hugh stepped back to let Morris look over Zoe, while Patricia nattered on about Zoe not eating and having had a stressful day.
Hugh’s stomach churned with a concern he didn’t want to admit to. He sucked in a breath and blew it out, hating the faint nausea that had begun to stir in his gut.
He’d honestly thought he’d put everything to do with Zoe Waters and their tempestuous relationship behind him. The strength of his reaction to her was a surprise. Maybe he hadn’t been so successful at processing all that history as he’d thought.
On one level it was impossible to comprehend that Zoe was lying on his bed, her hair on his pillow, her skin against his sheets. She was no longer the sixteen-year-old girl he’d seen lying like this in the nurse’s office. She’d gained weight in the past ten years, but that wasn’t quite the right way of putting it. It was more like she’d filled out—the curves that her teenage body had hinted at were fully developed now. A lush, hourglass figure was outlined by her clingy top and tight skirt, cinched at the waist with a skinny, patent leather belt. The skirt had hitched up as he’d carried her and a set of stunning legs in black stockings were on display.
Part of him wished she was just another customer—someone who’d overindulged on chardonnay or stayed out in the sun too long. He could patch her up, get her on her feet again, then ask for her phone number. They could go on a date and have the kind of short-lived, intensely physical relationship he preferred.
He cursed under his breath. He shouldn’t have brought her to his bedroom—he wouldn’t have brought any other guest here.
“She’ll be all right,” Morris declared matter-of-factly, bringing Hugh back from his daydream. “I’d say her blood sugar’s a bit low. Just needs to eat and drink something when she comes ’round. I’ll get the kitchen to organize something.”
“Good,” Hugh said, feeling a genuine rush of relief at Morris’s words.
“You need me to hang around awhile?” Morris asked. There was a strange inflection in his words and Hugh looked at him sharply.
“Why?”
“No reason. Just askin’. You look like you—”
“Everything’s fine,” Hugh interrupted harshly. He had no desire to hear what Morris thought. Unusual, because Morris was one person whose opinion Hugh trusted implicitly.
Thankfully, Morris didn’t do more than twitch an eyebrow at Hugh’s imperious tone before giving a short nod acknowledging his boss’s bidding.
“You must be busy, Hugh. I’ll sit with her,” Patricia offered.
“No.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated to be once again losing his usual cool because of Zoe Waters. “I mean, it’s fine. Patricia, please go back and tell everyone that Zoe’s okay, but that it’s time for the party to come to an end.” He turned to his foreman. “Morris, once you’ve placed the order with the kitchen, show everyone out and then organize the staff to get the dining room cleared and reset before the dinner crowd arrives.” The world calmed a little as he gave orders and took control.
“Of course.” Patricia shuffled out with a pleased look on her face. Hugh knew she couldn’t wait to get back to the restaurant and have her little moment of fame as everyone hung on her news. Patricia meant well and did a lot for the town, but sometimes her tendency to gossip overwhelmed her common sense.
Morris gave a brusque nod and went off to carry out his orders.
Hugh pulled up a chair and sat heavily. He waited for a moment, watching Zoe’s breasts rise and fall, trying hard not to wonder whether they’d changed, too. He made his voice as unaffected as it could be. “It’s okay, they’re gone now.”
Zoe blinked, and after a moment shuffled on the bed a little, rearranging her skirt more modestly and propping her head up on the pillow. “How did you know?” she asked, not looking at him.
“You started holding on.” She’d been a dead weight until they’d reached the bedroom, then she’d stirred against him; the arm that had been thrown around his shoulders had gripped him tightly.
“Ah.” She didn’t sound surprised.
“It’s just like last time,” he said, not understanding the impulse.
She stiffened. “No, it’s not.”
One of his staff members appeared with a tray. “Mr. Lawson? Morris asked me to bring this up. Is the