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Tears pricked her eyes. She missed her father. He’d looked good last night when they’d spoken, his face fuller. Their conversation had been the best they’d had since she’d run off to New York City. In one week they’d be reunited, when she and Adrian returned for the party. And then, regardless of whether she was named director or not, she wouldn’t leave her dad’s side again. Not until...
The aching sense of loss she’d tried to keep at bay since sleeping with Adrian returned with a vengeance, creating a lump in her throat so thick she could barely gasp for breath. How could she be falling in love, be thinking about her future, when her father was dying?
A strong breeze blew through the vineyard and stirred the leaves. The landscape darkened and a coolness chased away the late spring heat. She looked up in time to see large clouds the color of slate move over the tops of the mountains.
“A storm’s coming.”
She froze. That voice—so deep, so husky, sofamiliar—wrapped around her and cradled her with such warmth it brought tears to her eyes. How cruel was it that she’d only had one night with him? Just one night to touch him, to feel him move inside her with such tenderness as he stared into her eyes, seeing and accepting every part of her?
She swallowed hard, stuffing her emotions as far down as they’d go, and turned to face Adrian.
Everleigh was trying to keep her face neutral. But Adrian didn’t miss the flatness in her eyes, the slight strain about her lips.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly.
His eyes drifted to the clouds, billowing into thunderheads over the mountain peaks, then moved back to her.
Clad in a white sundress and silver sandals, her golden hair falling in waves past her shoulders and her violet eyes focused on him, she looked like a Greek goddess. The material hugged the slope of her breast and teased him with the sight of her long legs. Legs he desperately wanted to be wrapped around him as he sheathed himself inside her...
She crossed her arms over her middle, as if comforting herself against whatever darkness had invaded.
“Are you okay? Is it your father?” he asked.
She nodded. “He actually looks well. He’s in New York right now. I know he’s not going to get better, but...” Her voice trailed off and she ran her hands through her hair. “I can’t help but imagine that something’s different.”
So Richard hadn’t told her about the clinical trial.
“Maybe he’s just feeling better.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah. I should probably just be glad he’s doing well.”
The day after they’d slept together Adrian had called Dr. Nathaniel Pratt, a world-renowned hematologist based in New York. The doctor had been the guest speaker at a fundraiser Adrian had attended in London—the brains behind a clinical trial with late-stage chronic leukemia patients, during which all his patients had gone into remission or seen a reduction in cancer cells. Two more phone calls and a seven-figure donation to Dr. Pratt’s research later, Richard had been on a plane from Fox Creek to New York to become a participant in Dr. Pratt’s trial.
In between profuse thank-yous that had made Adrian uncomfortable, Richard had issued one stipulation about accepting Adrian’s offer.
“Don’t tell Everleigh. Not until I know if there’s a chance.”
It hurt Adrian now, to see her continue to worry about her father. He wanted to be the one to comfort her, to reassure her that there was hope as he smoothed the lines of worry from her face. He never wanted to let another man touch her—wanted to have Everleigh always be his and his alone.
All things that should terrify him.
These past few days of living under the same roof as Everleigh had been sheer hell—even worse than after they’d first slept together. He’d managed to avoid her at work, leaving for his office as the sun was rising and not returning until the dark of night crept over the city streets.
Home, however, was a different matter. He avoided the guest wing of the house, but he could still hear her laughter echoing down the hallway, smell her sweet floral scent on the air. The commitment he’d made that night in the gardens, to let her go and keep himself safe, was no match for the need that had planted its roots deep in his heart.
He blinked. He was staring at her, but he couldn’t help himself. After the long hours, the distance he’d struggled to maintain, he drank in the sight of her.
That delicate pink rose in her cheeks again and set off a spark of desire that burned through him with wicked intensity. He wanted to follow that blush with his lips, down her neck to the swells of her breasts, over her stomach and down to her thighs. He would bring her to the edge of reason, kissing her as he tasted her sweet body until she was sobbing his name.
“How did the interview go?” He managed to keep his voice professional.
“Well, I think. It took over an hour. I felt confident walking out.” She frowned. “Didn’t your mother say the two of you were grabbing lunch in town?”
“We rescheduled for tomorrow.”
Another risk he was about to take. Isabella had stopped by his office and asked if they could have a talk over lunch.
“A long overdue talk,” she’d said, her voice raw.
