The Wayward Son. Yvonne Lindsay

I’m a P.A.”

      “You must be pretty important to your boss if he can’t keep from calling you.”

      Anna forced her features to relax into a smile. “I’ve worked for him since I left school. We’re probably closer than most boss/employee relationships.”

      She caught Judd’s piercing look before his eyes resumed their surveillance of the road in front of them. He began to slow the car as they approached a township, and Anna let out an involuntary exclamation of delight as they entered the main road. Lined with massive trees and with quaint tin-roofed buildings, she’d have thought she’d stepped back in time if it hadn’t been for the bustle of people and modern vehicles that lined the street.

      Judd expertly backed the Aston Martin into a car space and came around to open Anna’s door.

      “I’m surprised he let you out of his sight, if you’re so close,” he said, his words weighted with something that Anna couldn’t quite put her finger on.

      “I’m my own woman,” she answered.

      “I’m pleased to hear it,” Judd said in return, taking her hand and tucking it firmly in the crook of his elbow. “Because I don’t like to share.”

      “I’ve heard that trait was reserved for only children,” Anna said with a soft laugh, trying to defuse the heady rush of excitement his words stimulated inside her.

      “What makes you think I’m not an only child?”

      Oh, Lord, she’d nearly stepped right in it. She scoured her memory quickly, although deep down she knew that no one here in Adelaide had mentioned his estranged family to her.

      “Oh, I don’t know. I just assumed, since you grew up here surrounded by your cousins, that sharing was a natural part of your life.”

      She held her breath, hoping he’d be satisfied with her reply. To her surprise, he let out a short laugh.

      “Yeah, I suppose that’d be a natural assumption.”

      “So, are you?” she probed, wanting some insight into how he might feel about the sister he hadn’t seen in years.

      “An only child?” He shrugged. “It’s complicated. My parents divorced when I was young, and they split my sister and me up at the same time. I was six, she was just one year old.”

      “Isn’t that unusual? That your father kept your sister?”

      “He didn’t want me—my mother did.”

      Judd’s words, so simply spoken, hinted strongly at the hurt that had to lie behind them. Anna wanted to protest. To tell him that his father wanted him very much indeed, but they weren’t her words to say.

      “Have you ever wanted to see your sister? Get to know her?” she pressed, taking a different tack.

      “Why the sudden interest?”

      “Oh, nothing. It’s just that, as I told you last night, I am an only child and I always wanted siblings.”

      “The human condition, huh? Always wanting what we can’t have.”

      “I suppose so,” Anna admitted, sorry that he’d so deftly avoided answering her question.

      They walked along the shady sidewalk, stopping every now and then to wander into one of the many galleries before they crossed the road to take an umbrella-covered table outside an obviously very popular inn. Anna pulled the pin from her hair and shook it loose from its temporary restraint. She didn’t miss the glow of pure male appreciation in Judd’s eyes as she did so and felt her body warm in response.

      “Would you like a menu, or would you like me to choose for you?” Judd asked.

      “Go ahead and order for me. I eat just about everything.”

      “What would you like to drink? A glass of wine?”

      Anna eyed a nearby patron swigging at a foam-topped beer. “One of those,” she said, pointing.

      “Beer?”

      “Sure. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who don’t think women should drink beer.”

      “Not at all.” He laughed. “In fact, I plan to join you.”

      When the waitress came over he ordered their meals and two beers. They didn’t have to wait long before the food and drinks arrived. Anna gasped when she saw the size of the platter placed before them.

      “It’s their Taste of Germany. You couldn’t come here without trying it,” Judd said.

      “I’ll take your word for it. I sure hope you’re hungry, too,” Anna replied, taking a sip of her chilled beer. “Mmm, that’s good.”

      She grew so engrossed in the meal and their surroundings that she didn’t notice when a family with several children raced by their table. One of the kids lost his balance when his foot hooked into the handle of her bag, which she’d placed on the ground by the table leg. Anna’s hands flew to stabilize the beer mugs on the table as it rocked under the impact of the youngster’s clumsiness.

      “Oh, no! I’m so sorry,” his harried mother said, rushing to pick up the belongings that had scattered from Anna’s bag.

      “Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Anna assured her, reaching for the items the woman had so far gathered and shoving them back in her bag. “Really, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left the strap hanging out like that.”

      Judd had risen from his chair and was helping to collect Anna’s things. Too late she saw the stark-white envelope that had been ejected from its hiding place. His long-fingered hand hovered over it and her heart sank to the soles of her feet as she registered the exact moment he identified the name on the front.

      He settled back in his chair, handing most of her things back to her, but holding the envelope between his fingers as if it contained something dangerous inside. The mother and her son moved on, rejoining the rest of their family, but Anna didn’t even notice. All she could do was stare at Judd and the flat packet in his hands.

      “Care to explain this?” he said, his voice suddenly devoid of the warmth it had contained only moments ago.

      Anna took a deep breath. “It’s a letter.”

      “I can see that. It looks like a letter to me.”

      She couldn’t maintain eye contact and instead dropped her gaze to her lap, where her fingers knotted in anxiety. This was all wrong. She’d wanted to give him the letter when she was ready, when she was in control and when she could better gauge what his reaction would be. Not in a public place like this, with no warning and no chance to prepare him for the letter’s contents.

      “It is,” she said softly.

      She flinched as she heard the envelope tear open. Her stomach tied in a knot of unbelievable proportions as the sound of a single sheet of paper being unfolded overwhelmed the noise of the diners and sightseers around them.

      Anna finally lifted her gaze and watched as Judd read the letter his father had written. The letter that had the capacity to change all their lives. When he’d finished, he neatly refolded the sheet and put it back in the envelope. Still he said nothing. A shiver of fear danced down her spine. He was calm, too calm. She’d seen Charles get like this and she knew that it was only the quiet before the storm. What was coming could only be cataclysmic.

      She reached across the table, touching his forearm. He shook off her touch as if she were nothing more than an annoying insect.

      “Judd—” she started, but whatever she’d been about to say died in her throat when he met her eyes and she felt the full fury of the glacial fire reflected there.

      “Who the hell are you and why are you really here?”