Spaniard's Seduction / Cole's Red-Hot Pursuit. Brenda Jackson

the wine, he realised belatedly, jerking himself back to reality, to the glass in front of him, to the dining room in the Saxon homestead, and to the conversation dominated by weather and Brix.

      A conversation that he would normally command. But not tonight. Tonight turbulence raged within him. He sensed resentment from his half siblings. Not that he blamed them. Anger lingered against Phillip—his dishonourable father—who blatantly offered around sherry, boasted about the awards he’d garnered, from a process he had stolen from a vulnerable, loving woman. Some of his dark emotion spilled onto Caitlyn; her name had been listed alongside Phillip Saxon’s as winemaker.

      He pushed himself to his feet. “Excuse me, please.” Rafaelo stalked to the tall doors that led outside. For the first time in years he craved a cigarette. But he’d given them up a decade ago. He felt her presence before she stepped outside.

      “I needed a breath of fresh air,” he felt compelled to explain.

      Then Caitlyn smiled and the blackness eased inside him. Rafaelo told himself that he was being too harsh. She’d been an employee, acting under instructions…Phillip Saxon’s instructions. And the desire for her that had been tamped down ignited again.

      “So how did you come to work for Saxon’s Folly?” he asked Caitlyn to get his head out of that dark black pit it was stuck in.

      “Heath tutored me during my first year at university—we became friends. He organised a vacation job for me at Saxon’s Folly. After I finished studying, the family offered me a full-time position as a cellar hand.” And she’d always wondered what had motivated that offer.

      Rafaelo tilted his head sideways studying her. “What made Heath single you out?”

      “He’s a kind man. I think he felt sorry for me.” Caitlyn laughed without humour.

      Sorry for her? What was wrong with the man? Rafaelo wondered. “But why?”

      She hesitated. “I was a swot.”

      “A swot?” Rafaelo asked, puzzled by the word.

      “I studied too much. I came out of university with a first class honours degree, a willingness to learn and not much else. I always had my nose in a book.”

      “Ah.” Had she seized the opportunity to work at Saxon’s Folly because of Heath Saxon? Such a smart woman, so besotted over such a dumb ass.

      Through the glass doors, Rafaelo cast his clueless half brother a damning look. Didn’t he see under the worn jeans and sneakers to the woman she was?

      “Heath was already winemaker here,” Caitlyn was saying. “He’d taken over from Phillip, who had worked at a killing pace for the past ten years and wanted to start slowing down. Joshua studied locally and ran the vineyards, while Roland looked after the marketing side.”

      “That was around the time he—” Rafaelo couldn’t bring himself to use Saxon’s name “—decided to give his sons shares equal to those that his wife held in Saxon’s Folly, while retaining the largest share himself.” Only to the legitimate sons, of course.

      Caitlyn’s eyes widened in surprise.

      “I made it my business to find out such things,” he said in reply to her unanswered question.

      “He gave Megan a share equal to her brothers’.”

      “Only later, once she’d finished her studies.”

      “She was younger.” Caitlyn came instantly to Phillip Saxon’s defence.

      “So why did Heath leave Saxon’s Folly?” That was one question Rafaelo wanted answered.

      Caitlyn lifted her shoulders in a small movement and let them drop. “Heath and Phillip had had a bitter fallout. I was assistant winemaker by that time. Heath suggested that Phillip and Kay offer me the top job, winemaker at Saxon’s Folly.”

      He read the pride in her eyes, the disbelief that still lingered. “Didn’t you think you could do it?”

      “It had been my secret dream, so deeply buried that I never saw any chance of it coming true.”

      “Especially not with a Saxon already in the winemaker role,” he said drily. “You needed Heath to move on.”

      “I never wanted that!” Her eyes sparked with anger. “That’s a horrid thing to imply. Heath’s always been fantastic to me. Supportive, encouraging. I…” Her voice trailed away.

      Rafaelo didn’t need her help to join the dots.

      Caitlyn shook her head. “Oh, what’s the use of trying to explain? You’ll never understand.”

      He understood. More than she thought. She fancied herself in love with Heath Saxon.

      Caitlyn saw his mouth tighten. She wished he could get over this stupid antagonism that he and Heath shared.

      How could she explain what it had meant to her to be promoted to chief winemaker? That had been Mount Olympus back then. Attaining such lofty heights had seemed more farfetched than the hope of catching Heath’s attention—a dream which she was starting to realise had been nothing more than the crush of a bookish late developer. She turned away from Rafaelo, unwilling to think about what had prompted such a ground-shifting revelation, and made for the tall glass doors.

      “I’m going back inside.” After a long moment, she heard him follow and tried to tell herself that she didn’t care what he did—as long as he didn’t harm the Saxons.

      Later, after murmuring farewells to Phillip and Kay, Caitlyn glanced to where Rafaelo stood listening to Alyssa and Joshua argue about whether Saxon’s Folly should be sponsoring a newly created food and wine TV show. Since their conversation, Rafaelo hadn’t said much. Hell, he’d even declined dessert—no one ever refused a helping of Ivy’s pavlova.

      But then she’d been silent, too, caught up in the discovery that she wasn’t in love with Heath Saxon—that it had been nothing more than a very convenient crush that had prevented the need for a boyfriend when she hadn’t wanted one. And later…

      Well, later it had meant there’d been no pressure on her to come to terms with what had happened.

      Her breath hissed out. A whole new world opened ahead of her. One filled with men and passion and all the things she’d spent five years avoiding. She glanced toward Rafaelo.

      In one of those freakish tricks of timing, Alyssa and Joshua stopped arguing and looked toward the French doors. Rafaelo’s gaze followed. Caitlyn was caught staring. She gave them a little wave and mouthed, “Good night.”

      Rafaelo came toward her. “I’ll walk you home.”

      “That’s not necessary.” Caitlyn gave a breathy little laugh. “Goodness, I’ve walked home often enough. This isn’t the city. This is Saxon’s Folly, I’m hardly in any danger of getting mugged. If I’d thought that, I’d have called Pita, the guard, to walk me home.”

      “I thought you might like the company,” Rafaelo murmured. “I’m on foot, too. The stables are on my way home.”

      Coming up behind him, Alyssa said, “Caitlyn’s right. Saxon’s Folly is as far removed from the city as you can get—ask me, I’m the original fast-lane gal, aren’t I?” And she gave Joshua a loving smile that had him hurrying to her side, his dark eyes melting.

      For a raw instant Caitlyn felt a tearing of envy. She wanted to be loved like that. For a fraction of time she let her gaze rest on Heath, then she swung her attention back to Rafaelo.

      His eyes were piercing. Caitlyn felt as if he could see all the way to her soul, to the need that lay there, beneath the frozen wastes.

      “Thank you.” Her voice sounded strangled. “I’d like you to walk me home.”

      Rafaelo glanced at Heath and back to her. “Would you?”