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Sheila’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and her fingers stopped toying with the collar of her robe. “I just want to know why you’ve been avoiding the issue of the fire and the rebuilding of the west wing.”
“Because I hadn’t made a decision.” His honest blue eyes begged her understanding and patience.
“But you have now?”
“I think so.”
“Well?”
The corners of Noah’s eyes twitched. I’m going to transfer a quarter of a million dollars into an escrow account from Wilder Investments when I get back to Seattle. The money will be in escrow for the express purpose of rebuilding Cascade Valley.”
Sheila’s smile froze on her face as she read the hesitation in his gaze. “But what about the insurance company . . . and that report by Anthony Simmons?”
Noah waved off her questions as if they·were bothersome insects. “Don’t worry about that end of it; that’s my problem.”
Sheila held back a million questions, but the one nagging doubt in her mind refused to die. Her voice was hoarse. “But what about my father’s name? Will you be able to clear it?” she asked cautiously. The look of sincere concern in her light gray eyes pierced him to the soul, and he found his deception entrapping him. He had decided not to tell her anything about the fire or Simmons’s report, knowing full well that what he would have to disclose to her would only cause her more pain. In his mind she had borne more than her share. He couldn’t add to it.
“I hope so,” he whispered, damning himself for his duplicity.
She sighed with relief and closed her eyes.
“We do have another problem to consider.”
She smiled wryly and opened her eyes to study him. “Only one?” she asked sarcastically.
He laughed aloud. How long had it been since he’d laughed in the dawn? The thought of leaving Sheila sobered him, and he realized it was an impossible task. She sat across the room from him, her toes peeking out from the folds of creamy fabric, her hair beautiful in its coppery disarray. And her eyes, a warm gray, the color of liquid silver, surrounded by thick, sexy black lashes, watched his every movement. “Maybe we have two problems,” he acquiesced with a slow smile. “The first is simple. If construction of the west wing is incomplete by harvest time, I’ll lease a facility nearby and we’ll still bottle under the Cascade label. It will be expensive, but better than selling our crop to the competition.”
Sheila thoughtfully nodded her silent agreement.
“So that brings us to our next dilemma.”
“If you come up with another blockbuster solution, like you did for the first problem, I doubt that there will be any dilemma at all,” she quipped, smiling radiantly. At last she knew for certain that the winery would reopen. She couldn’t help but smile.
Noah rubbed the edge of his chin before he tossed off the sheet, stood up and strode over to the chair in which she was sitting. Positioning his hands on either arm of the chair, he imprisoned her against the peach-colored cushions. “The solution depends entirely on you.”
The corners of her mouth twitched, and a light of interest danced in her eyes. She cocked her head coquettishly and let the chestnut sheen of her hair fall over one cheek. “On me? How?”
His voice was low and serious, his gaze intent as it probed her eyes. “Sheila, I want you to marry me. Will you?”
Her playful smile disappeared as the meaning of his words sunk in. An overwhelming sense of ecstasy overtook her as her heart flipped over. “You want to get married?” she repeated, her voice filled with raw emotion.
“As quickly as possible.”
Her self-assurance wavered. “Of course . . . I mean, I’d love to . . .” She shook her head. “This is coming out all wrong. I guess I just don’t understand what’s going on here.”
“What’s to understand?” His lean muscles entrapped her, and his lips nuzzled softly behind her ear. When he spoke, she could feel his warm breath against her hair. “Because I love you, Sheila. Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying to you for the better part of the week?”
“But . . . married?” she stammered. Visions of her first marriage filled her mind. She remembered the hope and the love, a gorgeous ivory lace gown that had yellowed with the lies and the faded dreams. She had rushed into marriage once, and though she loved Noah with all her heart, she was wary of making the same mistake again. The thought of losing him was too agonizing to her. “I . . . I don’t know,” she said, and the confusion she felt was reflected in the gray depths of her eyes.
The muscles of his arms tensed as he gripped the chair more savagely. “Why not?”
There were probably more than a dozen reasons, but Sheila couldn’t think of them. Memories of Jeff closing the door in her face kept closing in on her. “Have you thought about the kids? How is this going to affect them?” She was grasping at straws, and they both knew it. He provided the perfect response.
“Can you honestly think of any better arrangement for Sean or Emily?”
“But that’s no reason to get married . . . to provide another parent for your child.”
“Of course it isn’t. Think of it as a fringe benef it,” he suggested. His hand had been touching the collar of her robe, gently rubbing the delicate bones surrounding her neck. Suddenly he stopped touching her and took a step backward. “Are you trying to find a polite way of telling me no?” he challenged, his features growing hard.
