Rancher's Wild Secret. Maisey Yates

       About the Publisher

       One

      The launch party for Maxfield Vineyards’ brand-new select label was going off without a hitch, and Emerson Maxfield was bored.

      Not the right feeling for the brand ambassador of Maxfield Vineyards, but definitely the feeling she was battling now.

      She imagined many people in attendance would pin the look of disinterest on her face on the fact that her fiancé wasn’t present.

      She looked down at her hand, currently wrapped around a glass of blush wine, her fourth finger glittering with the large, pear-shaped diamond that she was wearing.

      She wasn’t bored because Donovan wasn’t here.

      Frankly, Donovan was starting to bore her, and that reality caused her no small amount of concern.

      But what else could she do?

      Her father had arranged the relationship, the engagement, two years earlier, and she had agreed. She’d been sure that things would progress, that she and Donovan could make it work because on paper they should work.

      But their relationship wasn’t…changing.

      They worked and lived in different states and they didn’t have enough heat between them to light a campfire.

      All things considered, the party was much less boring than her engagement.

      But all of it—the party and the engagement—was linked. Linked to the fact that her father’s empire was the most important thing in his world.

      And Emerson was a part of that empire.

      In fairness, she cared about her father. And she cared about his empire, deeply. The winery was her life’s work. Helping build it, grow it, was something she excelled at.

      She had managed to get Maxfield wines into Hollywood awards’ baskets. She’d gotten them recommended on prominent websites by former talk show hosts.

      She had made their vineyard label something better than local.

      Maxfield Vineyards was the leading reason parts of Oregon were beginning to be known as the new Napa.

      And her work, and her siblings’ work, was the reason Maxfield Vineyards had grown as much as it had.

      She should be feeling triumphant about this party.

      But instead she felt nothing but malaise.

      The same malaise that had infected so much of what she had done recently.

      This used to be enough.

      Standing in the middle of a beautiful party, wearing a dress that had been hand tailored to conform perfectly to her body—it used to be a thrill. Wearing lipstick like this—the perfect shade of red to go with her scarlet dress—it used to make her feel…

      Important.

      Like she mattered.

      Like everything was put together and polished. Like she was a success. Whatever her mother thought.

      Maybe Emerson’s problem was the impending wedding.

      Because the closer that got, the more doubts she had.

      If she could possibly dedicate herself to her job so much that she would marry the son of one of the world’s most premier advertising executives.

      That she would go along with what her father asked, even in this.

      But Emerson loved her father. And she loved the winery.

      And as for romantic love…

      Well, she’d never been in love. It was a hypothetical. But all these other loves were not. And as far as sex and passion went…

      She hadn’t slept with Donovan yet. But she’d been with two other men. One boyfriend in college, one out of college. And it just hadn’t been anything worth upending her life over.

      She and Donovan shared goals and values. Surely they could mesh those things together and create a life.

      Why not marry for the sake of the vineyard? To make her father happy?

      Why not?

      Emerson sighed and surveyed the room.

      Everything was beautiful. Of course it was. The party was set in her family’s gorgeous mountaintop tasting room, the view of the vineyards stretching out below, illuminated by the full moon.

      Emerson walked out onto the balcony. There were a few people out there, on the far end, but they didn’t approach her. Keeping people at a distance was one of her gifts. With one smile she could attract everyone in the room if she chose. But she could also affect a blank face that invited no conversation at all.

      She looked out over the vineyards and sighed yet again.

      “What are you doing out here?”

      A smile tugged at the corner of Emerson’s mouth. Because of course, she could keep everyone but her baby sister Cricket from speaking to her when she didn’t want to be spoken to. Cricket basically did what she wanted.

      “I just needed some fresh air. What are you doing here? Weren’t you carded at the door?”

      “I’m twenty-one, thank you,” Cricket sniffed, looking…well, not twenty-one, at least not to Emerson.

      Emerson smirked. “Oh. How could I forget?”

      Truly, she couldn’t forget, as she had thrown an absolutely spectacular party for Cricket, which had made Cricket look wide-eyed and uncomfortable, particularly in the fitted dress Emerson had chosen for her. Cricket did not enjoy being the center of attention.

      Emerson did like it. But only on her terms.

      Cricket looked mildly incensed in the moonlight. “I didn’t come out here to be teased.”

      “I’m sorry,” Emerson responded, sincere because she didn’t want to hurt her sister. She only wanted to mildly goad her, because Cricket was incredibly goadable.

      Emerson looked out across the vast expanse of fields and frowned when she saw a figure moving among the vines.

      It was a man. She could tell even from the balcony that he had a lean, rangy body, and the long strides of a man who was quite tall.

      “Who’s that?” she asked.

      “I don’t know,” Cricket said, peering down below. “Should I get Dad?”

      “No,” Emerson said. “I can go down.”

      She knew exactly who was supposed to be at the party, and who wasn’t.

      And if this man was one of the Coopers from Cowboy Wines, then she would have reason to feel concerned that he was down there sniffing around to get trade secrets.

      Not that their top rival had ever stooped to that kind of espionage before, but she didn’t trust anyone. Not really.

      Wine-making was a competitive industry, and it was only becoming more so.

      Emerson’s sister Wren always became livid at the mere mention of the Cooper name, and was constantly muttering about all manner of dirty tricks they would employ to get ahead. So really, anything was possible.

      “I’ll just run down and check it out.”

      “You’re going to go down and investigate by yourself?”

      “I’m fine.” Emerson waved a hand. “I have a cell phone, and the place is heavily populated right now. I don’t think I’m going to have any issues.”

      “Emerson…”