Judd’s unspoken acceptance of her refusal.
“I’ll pick you up in the morning about nine,” he said, letting her go and taking a step away. “Sleep well.”
She watched him leave, his long legs eating up the distance along the wide track that led back to the main house. When he was out of sight, she finally let her body sag against the door frame.
Just hours ago, she’d arrived in Australia with one goal in mind—to convince Judd to come with her to New Zealand and reunite with his father. She still wanted—needed—to achieve that goal, but another need was taking over. A need to make the most of her time with Judd, to follow through on the attraction between them and see where it led.
But she knew she couldn’t give in. So much rested on how Judd reacted when he learned why she’d come. If things between them got out of hand and he learned the truth too soon, she could inadvertently ruin all of Charles’s hopes for reconciliation. She couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down like that. Even if it meant closing the door on any chance to explore the sizzling attraction between her and Judd.
Her fingers fluttered to her lips. She could still feel him, still taste him. And God, she still wanted him. How on earth was she going to get through an entire day in his presence without giving in?
The V8 engine of his Aston Martin Vantage roadster purred as Judd drove slowly along the private road that led toward Anna’s cottage. A quiet smile of satisfaction played across his face—a total contrast to the frustration that even now held his body deliciously taut with expectation.
He hadn’t felt this depth of attraction to a woman in a very long time. Actually, to be completely truthful, he’d never felt quite this level of need in relation to anyone else before.
Today was going to be interesting, very interesting indeed. And tonight? Well, that had the potential to be even better.
The faint burr of his cell phone distracted him. A quick look at the caller ID saw him ease his car to a halt and press a button on his hands-free kit to respond.
“Good morning, Mother. I didn’t expect to hear from you this early.”
Cynthia didn’t waste any time on pleasantries. “I know where she’s from.”
“Who? Anna?”
“Who else? I was certain she looked familiar, and now I know why. I knew her mother. She worked at Wilson Wines. She was just an office dolly back then—flirted outrageously with the traveling reps. She left when she married one of them, pregnant of course, but I always suspected your father had his eye on her. About three years after we got here I heard that when her husband died, Charles employed her as his housekeeper—like anyone expected that was the truth.”
Judd tensed. Every time Cynthia mentioned Charles Wilson there was a tone to her voice that set his teeth on edge.
“Did you hear me, Judd?”
“Yes, I heard you. What do you expect me to do about it?”
“Well, confront her, obviously. Her mother was living with Charles, ergo, so was Anna. Find out what she’s doing here, because I’d wager she isn’t here on holiday. It has to be something to do with your father.”
He hated to admit it, but his mother could be right. Ever since they’d met, he’d suspected that Anna was hiding something. And the way she’d looked at him right at their first meeting was as if she was searching his face for a resemblance to someone. Had she been comparing him to his father? He stilled the curl of anger at that thought and at the possibility that his family might be being used by Charles Wilson again. Instead, he channeled his heated emotions into a tool to hone his thinking.
“I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry.”
“I knew she was trouble the second I laid eyes on her,” his mother continued. “She’s probably working for him, you know. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised, if she’s anything like her mother, if she is warming his bed. He always did prefer younger women.”
His mother’s words were acid in his ears. Cynthia had never let go of the bitterness she felt toward the man she’d left behind in New Zealand. He could still remember the first day he and Cynthia had arrived at The Masters’ and she’d pointed to the shell of the mansion up on the hill.
Their house in New Zealand had been an identical replica of the original Masters home—a wedding present built under Charles’s orders for his beautiful bride. Seeing a wrecked, charred ruin of a house that looked so very much like the one he’d always known had been a deeply unsettling experience for Judd, especially when Cynthia told him that the ruin would be a constant reminder of what they’d all lost when his father had rejected them both and banished them back to Australia. And it was to be a constant target for all that he should strive to regain.
His six-year-old mind had been unable to fully understand what she was saying, hadn’t grasped the depth of her obsession with the home she’d lost not once, but twice, and every day at The Masters’ he’d learned what it meant to be rejected by the man who’d fathered him. Whether it was the pitying gaze of his uncles and their sometimes overzealous attempts to be a father figure in his life, or the overheard remarks made by the staff from time to time when they didn’t know he was listening, he knew exactly what it felt like to be a cast-off. He snapped his mind back to the present.
“I said I’ll deal with it, Mother. By the end of today we’ll know exactly what she’s up to.”
“Good. I know I can rely on you, Judd. Be careful, my darling.”
Careful? Oh, he’d be more than careful. He disconnected the call and guided his car once more toward Anna’s cottage. He’d be so careful that Anna Garrick would hardly know what had hit her.
Anna stood waiting for him on the patio of the cottage. She looked deceptively fresh and innocent, dressed in layers of light clothing. He knew she was anything but innocent, especially if her response to him last night had been anything to go by. He hoped she was up to a little heat, because today promised to be warm in more ways than one.
She walked toward his car as he got out and opened the passenger door for her.
“Nice wheels,” she commented.
“I was always a James Bond fanatic as a kid.” He smiled. “Some things never get old.”
She laughed and settled in the red leather bucket seat, its color a perfect foil for her chestnut-brown hair, he thought as he swung her door closed. As he got back behind the wheel she rummaged in her handbag, pulling out a long bamboo hairpin before twisting her long hair into a knot and securing it at the back of her head.
“I can put the top up if you’d rather,” he said, his eyes caught on the elegant line of her neck, the perfection of her jaw.
“No, it’s a beautiful day. Let’s make the most of it,” she answered with a smile that hit him fair and square in the gut and reminded him of just how uncomfortable it had been to walk back to the main house last night.
“Good idea,” he agreed and maneuvered the highperformance sports car onto the
