Suspicions: A Twist of Fate\Tears of Pride (38 page)

“My father’s company.”

“Ben Wilder is
your
father?” A note of genuine respect and surprise entered Jeff’s voice.

“That’s right.” Noah didn’t return Jeff’s growing smile.

“Oh…so you’re here because of the winery…as a business partner to Sheila?” Jeff assumed. He seemed relieved.

“Partly.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Noah is Mommy’s friend,” Emily interjected.

“Is that right?” Jeff’s thin eyebrows raised, and his accusing dark eyes impaled Sheila.

There was an awkward silence while Sheila struggled with the proper words. Both men regarded her intently. From the corner of her eye, Sheila noticed that Sean was walking toward the orchard, away from the uncomfortable scene. An embarrassed flush crept up her neck, but her eyes never wavered, and her voice was surprisingly steady. “Yes, that’s right. Noah is a friend of mine, a very good friend.”

The nasty retort forming on Jeff’s lips died under the power of Noah’s stare and the innocent, wondering eyes of his child. He didn’t want to appear the fool. “I see,” he returned vaguely, as if he really didn’t understand at all. Then, as if dismissing the entire conversation as something that should have been swept under the rug, he pulled at the crease in his pants and bent on one knee to talk to his daughter. He took one of Emily’s little hands and pressed it between his own. He considered it a very fatherly gesture. “So tell me, Emmy, how’re you feeling?”

“Fine.” Emily was suddenly shy as she found herself the center of attention.

“You’re sure now? How about that ankle?”

“It’s okay.”

“Good…that’s good. Are you going to tell me all about your fall in the creek?”

“Do you really want to know?” Emily asked skeptically.

Jeff’s thin smile wavered. “Of course I do, precious,” he replied, patting the top of her hand nervously. He led her over to the chaise lounge and indicated that she should sit with him. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?” He pressed the tip of his finger awkwardly against her nose.

Noah felt his stomach lurch at Coleridge’s stumbling attempts at paternity. While the man turned all of his attention upon his child, Noah took his leave, heading in the direction of the west wing.

Sheila watched Noah stride angrily across the yard, and she had to suppress the urge to run after him. Until she was assured that Emily was comfortable with Jeff, Sheila felt her responsibility was to remain with her child.

Noah was soon out of sight and Sheila swung her eyes back toward Jeff and Emily. Her gaze met the brittle dark stare of her ex-husband. “How long has
he
been here?” he sneered.

“About a week.”

“Do you think that’s such a good idea?”

“He’s helping me reestablish the winery.”

“I bet he is.” The insinuation in Jeff’s flat statement couldn’t be ignored.

“Look, Jeff. I like Noah…. I like him a lot. Not that it’s any concern of yours.”

“He’s an arrogant SOB, don’t you think?”

Sheila’s eyes flew to Emily’s young face and then back to Jeff, silently warning him against any further derogatory remarks while Emily was close at hand.

“I think he’s a very kind and considerate man.”

“And I’m not?”

“I didn’t say that.” Sheila shot Jeff another threatening glance. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Somehow she had to change the course of the conversation, for Emily’s sake.

Jeff tried to relax and appear comfortable. “Got anything stronger?” he inquired, running a shaky hand through his neatly combed hair.

“I think so.”

“Good.” He let out his breath. “Make it a vodka martini.”

“All right. It will take me a few minutes.” He didn’t argue. He, too, must have been looking for a way to avoid further disagreement. Sheila turned toward the house, her eyes still searching for Noah, when Jeff’s voice reached her. “With a twist, okay?”

She nodded curtly without glancing back in his direction, muttering under her breath, “With a twist…with a twist.” Sheila had forgotten how demanding Jeff could be—a real pain in the neck. Damn him for ruining the peaceful afternoon. Damn him for interrupting what she had hoped would be an intimate
family
meal.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? She considered Noah and Sean as part of the family, while she looked upon Jeff as an outsider, an intruder who would only cause trouble.

Her chestnut hair swept across her shoulders as she shook her head at her own foolishness. What had she expected? she asked herself as she walked into the den.

She was startled to find Noah sitting at the desk, going over the original blueprints for the west wing of the château. A pencil was in his hand, its lead point tapping restlessly on the yellowed paper. He didn’t move when he heard the sound of Sheila’s sandaled feet enter the room, nor did he speak. Instead he stared broodingly at the blueprints, seemingly engrossed in the faded drawing. Sheila could feel the rift between them deepen, and she wondered if she had the courage to bridge it.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” she began as she moved across the room to the bar to pull out a bottle of vodka. The pencil stopped its erratic tapping on the desk.

Noah’s voice was controlled to the point of exasperation. “Don’t apologize to me. It’s none of my concern.”

“But it is,” she disagreed. “And I didn’t mean for it to turn into a circus.”

“Didn’t you? Don’t kid yourself, Sheila. You were the one who invited him here. How could you possibly expect things to turn out differently?”

“I had no choice. I had to tell him about Emily and invite him to visit her.”

“Save it, Sheila. I’ve heard all this before.”

She could read the anger in the crunch of his shoulders, feel his questions begging for answers, see the pride in the lift of his chin. “Please, Noah,” she pleaded, setting the mixed drink aside. “Don’t shut me out.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” He tossed the pencil down on the desk and rubbed his hands wearily against the back of his neck.

“Aren’t you?”

“No!” He got out of the chair and faced her for the first time since she entered the room. Ignoring the pain in her eyes, he wagged an accusing finger in her face. “I’ll tell you what I’m doing,” he stated hoarsely, “I’m sitting on the sidelines, hoping to hold on to my patience, which isn’t exactly my long suit to begin with, while the woman I love clings to some faded, rose-colored memories of a past and a marriage that didn’t exist.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m trying
not
to throw out a conniving jerk whose fumbling attempts at being a father border on the pathetic, for the sake of holding up appearances!”

“Jeff’s just trying to—”

“And,”
his voice increased in volume, “I’m attempting, Lord knows I’m not good at this sort of thing, but I’m trying damn it, to understand how a beautiful, sensitive woman like you could have ever gotten tangled up with a creep like Jeff Coleridge in the first place.” The cords in Noah’s neck were bulging, the muscles in his shoulders tight, the line of his mouth curled in distaste. He looked as if at any moment all of his simmering anger might explode.

Sheila picked up the martini with trembling hands. “I think that’s enough,” she whispered, her wide eyes unseeing. Her voice shook with the wounded tears of pride that had settled in her throat as she turned toward the door.

Noah was beside her in an instant, and his powerful arm reached out to impede her departure. He twisted her back to face him and the drink fell to the floor, breaking the glass and spilling the colorless liquid.

“No, Sheila,” he stated through clenched teeth, “you’re wrong.” He ignored the shattered glass and the pooling liquid. He gave her arm a shake to make sure she was giving him all of her attention. “I love you,” he admitted, the hardness in his gaze beginning to soften. “I didn’t want to fall in love with you. I fought it…I fought it like hell…but I lost.” His grip loosened on her arm, but she didn’t move as she was spellbound by the honesty in his eyes. “And I have no intention of letting you go—not to that snake you once called a husband. Not to anyone.”

Sheila felt her anger beginning to wither. Her gray eyes were colored by her conflicting emotions. “Then, please…please try and understand that I’m only putting up with Jeff because of Emily.”

“Do you think you’re fooling that child?”

“I’m not trying to fool her. I’m just trying not to bias her opinion of her dad.”

“By letting him intrude where he’s not wanted?” His eyes left hers to stare at the spilled drink. “By jumping at his every whim?” He touched her cheek tenderly. “Or by covering up his mistakes and omissions?”

“By letting her make her own decision.”

“Then let her see him as he really is.”

The muscles in his jawline tensed. “How important to you is Jeff Coleridge?” he demanded.

“He’s the father of my child.”

“Nothing more?”

“He once was,” she admitted. “I can’t deny that, and I wouldn’t try to. But that was a long time ago. Please believe me, Noah, I’m not in love with him. I don’t know if I ever was.”

Noah wrapped his arms tightly around her slim shoulders, and she could feel the warmth of his body where his arms touched her. Tenderly he brushed the smudge of soot from her cheek. “All right, Sheila,” he said with a reluctant sigh. “I’ll try and tolerate that jerk. But, believe me, if he gets obnoxious with you
or Emily,
I’m not going to apologize for throwing him out on his ear. Fair enough?”

Sheila’s smile spread slowly over her lips, showing just a hint of her white teeth. “Fair enough,” she agreed.

“Now, why don’t you work on dinner, let Jeff and Emily alone, and I’ll finish up with the blueprints.”

“Only if you promise to clean up this mess,” she suggested, flipping her open palm toward the spilled drink, “and pour Jeff another vodka martini.”

“Not on your life, lady. Doting on that man is where I draw the line. If he wants a drink badly enough, he can damn well come in and mix his own.”

Sheila laughed and clucked her tongue. “Not very hospitable, are you?” she teased.

Noah raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Can you blame me?”

“No,” she admitted with a trace of wistfulness, “I really can’t. But, do
try
to be civil.”

“If that’s what you want,” he conceded. “But for the life of me, I don’t understand why.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her toes. “It won’t kill you,” she pointed out.

“No, I suppose not. But watching him drool over you might.”

“You’re imagining things.” She kissed him lightly on the lips.

The muscles in his body reached out to hers. She felt his thighs straining against hers, his chest flattening her breasts, his arms pressing against the small of her back. “The kinds of things I imagine with you are very private. They have nothing to do with your ex-husband.” His lips brushed against hers and his tongue rimmed her lips. “Let’s get rid of him and put the kids to bed early.”

Sheila laughed against his mouth. “Somehow I don’t think Sean would take kindly to going to bed at six-thirty.”

“Spoilsport.” Slowly he released her.

She started toward the door, but paused to look over her shoulder at him and give an exaggerated wink. “Later,” she promised throatily.

The rest of the evening was uncomfortable but tolerable. Jeff stayed for dinner and looked stiff and ill at ease with Noah, Sean and Emily. His perfectly pressed suit had become wrinkled, his hair unruly and his eyes begged Sheila to find some excuse to get him away from Noah’s intense, uncompromising stare. Noah was polite but quiet, and his blue eyes very rarely strayed from Sheila’s ex-husband. It made Jeff uncomfortable; the man’s stare bordered on the eerie.

Jeff made his excuses, begged off dessert and was back on his way to Spokane long before eight o’clock. Even Emily seemed relieved that she didn’t have to go back to her father’s sterile apartment and persnickety old wife, Judith, at least for a few more weeks.

For the first time in over a week the dark cloud of argument between Sheila and Noah had disappeared, and they made impassioned love without the shadow of Jeff Coleridge hanging over their heads.

Chapter 12

The end of Noah’s stay came much too quickly for Sheila. The fact that he hadn’t been clear about his decision concerning the status of the winery worried her. She knew that he wanted to rebuild the west wing—the construction crew that had been razing the old structure was proof enough of that—but still he was hesitant. It was as if he were keeping something from her. She could feel his reluctance whenever she would broach the subject of the fall harvest. As far as she could tell, it had to be something to do with the fire.

It was morning on Noah’s final day at Cascade Valley when Sheila summoned the courage to bring up the fire and Anthony Simmons’s report. Over the past week Noah had managed to dodge the issue, but this morning Sheila told herself she had to have answers—straight ones.

The first rays of dawn filtered through the terrace doors to bathe Sheila’s room in a golden aura of dim morning light. Dewdrops clung to the underside of the green leaves of the clematis that grew against the glass doors, and the chill of the mountain night hadn’t disappeared.

Noah was still asleep, his face pressed against the pillow. Sheila slowly extracted herself from his embrace, and while still lying near to him on the antique bed, stared at his sleeping form. The dark profile of his face, etched in relief against the ice blue sheets, seemed innocent in slumber. The powerful muscles were relaxed, the corners of his eyes soft. His near-black hair was unruly and would seem almost boyish if it hadn’t been for the contrast of his shadowy beard.

Sheila felt her throat tighten at the sight of him sleeping, oblivious to any of the anxieties that aged his face. He seemed incredibly vulnerable, and it touched the deepest, most feminine part of her. She wanted to smooth back his hair and comfort him.
I love him,
she thought to herself. I love him too much. This is the kind of blind love that can be dangerous, the kind of self-sacrificing, unreturned love that can only cause pain. It’s a love that causes dependency and inspires jealousy, like a drug addiction. More than anything else in the world, I want to be with this man, to be a part of him. I want my life to blend with his, my family to be one with his, my blood to run in his body.

She bent over and kissed him softly on the forehead. I know he cares for me—he says he loves me—but I know that he is hiding something from me. He won’t let himself trust me.

She drew herself away from him and got out of the bed. After snuggling into the downy folds of a cream-colored velour bathrobe, she once again sat on the edge of the bed, content to watch the even rise and fall of Noah’s chest as he lay entwined in the sheets. Why won’t you tell me, she wondered. Why won’t you tell me everything about the fire? What are you hiding from me?

Noah rolled over onto his back and raised an exploratory eyelid against the invading morning sunlight. His dimpled smile slowly emerged as his gaze focused on her. “God, you look incredible,” he growled as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down beside him on the bed.

“Noah,” she whispered, trying to ignore the deliciously warm feel of his lips against her throat. “We have to talk.”

“Later.” His fingers found the zipper on her bathrobe and slowly lowered it.

Against the yearnings of her body, she put her hand over his to impede the zipper’s progress. “Now.”

“Let’s not waste time with talk,” he grumbled as he kissed the exposed tops of her breasts. The zipper slid lower, and the downy robe parted. “This is my last morning here,” he murmured against her bared skin. Sheila felt her pulse jump and the blood begin to heat in her veins.

She attempted to clutch the robe together. “Precisely why we have to talk now.” She tossed her hair away from her face and looked him steadily in the eye as she disentangled herself from his persuasive grip. Her breath was uneven as she eased her body off the bed.

After somewhat shakily taking a seat in one of the chairs near the terrace, she nervously ran her fingers over the open neckline of her robe. Noah propped himself on one elbow, raked his fingers through his dark hair and stared at her with amused, but smoldering, blue eyes. The sheet was draped across his body, exposing the hard muscles of his chest and leaving his lower torso covered. “All right, Sheila, out with it.”

“What?” She really didn’t know where to begin.

“The inquisition.”

“You’re expecting one?” She was surprised.

“I’d have to be a fool not to know that before I went back to Seattle, you and I would have a showdown about the fire. That is what this is all about, isn’t it?”

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 benefit,” 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.

Sheila shook he head, tears of happiness welling in her eyes. He misread them.

“Then what is it? Certainly you’re not satisfied with a casual
affair?
”

“No, no, of course not.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, his blue eyes intent on hers. “Has this got something to do with Coleridge? Damn it! I knew he was still in your blood.”

“He isn’t…. It’s just that I’m overwhelmed, Noah. I didn’t expect any of this…. I don’t know what to say.”

“A simple yes or no will do.”

“If only it were simple.” She wrapped her arms around herself as if protecting her body from a sudden chill. “I’d love to marry you…”

“But?”

“But I think it’s all a little sudden.” Why was she making up excuses? Why couldn’t she just accept his vow of love?

As she looked into Noah’s brooding eyes and honest, angular face, Sheila’s doubts fled. If she knew nothing else, she realized that Noah Wilder wasn’t the kind of man who would stoop to deceit. She shook her head as if shaking out the cobwebs of unclear thought that had confused her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized shakily as she touched her fingertips to the solid wall of his chest. “It’s just that you surprised me. The truth is that I love you and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Thank God,” he declared prayerfully. He folded her into the strength of his arms and pressed his hungry lips to hers. A warm glow of happiness began to spread through her as her lips parted to accept the promise of his love. She closed her eyes and sighed against his mouth as she felt the robe slip off her shoulders and the chill of morning touch her skin when Noah guided her to the bed.

“Woman,” he groaned against her skin, “I need you so desperately.” She shivered in anticipation as she fell against the cool sheets and was warmed only by the gentle touch of the man she loved.

* * *

Sheila’s life became a whirlwind. Between scanning blueprints submitted by architects, attempting to organize the interior designers sent by Wilder Investments and working with Dave Jansen on the fall harvest, Sheila had little time to dwell on the distance that kept her apart from Noah. She fell into bed exhausted each night and was up at the crack of dawn each morning. One hot summer day bled into another as June flowed into July.

Though Sheila was working herself to the bone, it was worth it. Everything seemed to be going her way. Jeff had called earlier in the week, and when Sheila had explained that Emily had reservations about visiting with him in Spokane, Jeff didn’t press the issue. In fact, he had almost sounded
relieved
that he wouldn’t have to entertain his child until later in the summer.

Emily missed Sean, but Sheila took that as a positive sign. She prayed that the two children would continue to get along after the marriage, whenever that was. Noah had been pressing Sheila for a date, even had gone so far as to suggest eloping. Sheila admitted to herself that running off to get married might be the best solution for all involved. She had once been married in an elaborate ceremony; it hadn’t guaranteed success.

Perhaps this weekend, she mused to herself as she pressed her foot more heavily on the throttle of the car. The auto responded and climbed the Cascade Mountains more quickly. For the first time in four weeks, there had been a break in the work. The interior of the château was nearly completely restored to its original regal design. Only a few details remained unfinished. The fabric for the draperies was woven in Europe, hence the delay. But the walls had been resurfaced and painted, new wallpaper hung and the old stained burgundy carpet replaced by a new, elegant champagne-colored pile.

Emily was spending the weekend with her grandmother, and Sheila decided to visit Noah. He would be surprised, no doubt, as he hadn’t expected to see her until all of the legal papers surrounding the refurbishing of the winery were complete, but when she hadn’t been able to reach him by telephone, Sheila had thrown caution to the wind, packed a few clothes and jumped in her car.

It was a beautiful summer day, the mountain air fresh with the scent of wildflowers and pine trees, and Sheila had the confident feeling that nothing could ruin the feeling of exhilaration that claimed her. The prospect of spending a quiet weekend alone with Noah made her smile to herself and hum along to the pop music coming from the radio.