“The vines are the heart of Saxon’s Folly.” Leaping down from the vehicle, he opened the passenger door for her to alight, then bent and picked up a handful of red soil and let it trickle through his fingers. “And this is the lifeblood.”
Some hidden place deep within her responded to the passion in his voice. Standing a little distance from him, she fought it as she’d fought the hold he wielded over her senses. But she suspected this ability that Joshua Saxon possessed to get under her defences, deep into the heart of her, was more dangerous than the way her body responded so wantonly to his.
What was it about this man?
She examined him. Sure, he was tall, dark and dangerously gorgeous. But she’d never been one for looks alone. And, yes, the slanting morning sun struck his almost-perfect features giving his skin a rich, golden glow as he dusted his hands off. But it wasn’t that alone that made her heart leap.
“This block was originally planted in 1916. Strange to think about it, isn’t it?” He glanced at her. “Men from Napier, a few miles away were going off to fight in Europe during the Great War, and here, on this piece of land a world away from the war, a dozen Spanish monks planted vines. Even during times of death, life must go on.”
And just like that he held her captive. Alyssa knew Joshua was talking about more than the vines that he touched with careful fingers. He was talking about Roland. About grief. About life continuing on the other side.
She resented him for it. Resented him bitterly for this uncanny ability to get through to her on the most elemental level, to hold her in his thrall.
In an attempt to break the sudden tension that snapped like a pulled string between them, she said, “What cultivar is that?”
“The monks thought they were planting Cabernet Sauvignon. Only years later when the grapes were ready to harvest did they discover their mistake. They’re Cabernet Franc. Too late then to pull them out. They made their wine.”
She assessed him. The way his Driza-Bone hat tipped over his forehead, the way he stood with his legs planted hip-width apart on the soil. Master of all he surveyed. “You love it out here, don’t you?”
“Who wouldn’t?” Pleasure lit up his eyes. A flash of white teeth transformed his face into breathtaking sexiness. Her stomach dropped as desire swept her. “Before Dad decided he wanted to step down as CEO of Saxon’s Folly, I managed the vineyards. I never wanted to make the wine. I wanted to grow the fruit that winemakers like Heath and Caitlyn so magically transform into a nectar fit for the ancient gods.”
The sheer beauty of the picture he painted touched Alyssa on a primal level. Here was a man with roots, who knew who he was. A man so solid, so confident in his own skin that she couldn’t help but admire him … and want him.
Alyssa suppressed the yearning. She couldn’t afford the distraction that Joshua presented. Drawing a shuddering breath, she said, “So you miss it?”
He nodded. “I still keep an eye on the vineyards. But I’ve appointed two vineyard managers. One here, and one for the blocks over at Gimblett’s Gravels where most of the grapes for our reds are grown.”
After an instant of hesitation, she asked daringly, “Do you miss having Heath to work with since he walked out?”
A frenetic buzz caused Alyssa to pull a vibrating cell phone out of her handbag. She glanced at the caller ID. David. She killed the call.
“Sorry.” She smiled sunnily at Joshua. “You were about to say?”
His face expressionless, he said, “That last question sounded a little too much like an inquisition. Alyssa Blake in journalist mode. You should’ve taken your call.”
Heavens, he was perceptive. Thank goodness he had no idea who had been calling. “I’ll ring back later.” Changing the subject, Alyssa gestured to the rolling vineyards around them. “And how did all this end up in your family’s hands?”
“After the Great War the monks decided to move on. The land was sold. My Saxon forefather won it three years later in a poker game. The monks had planted vines for sacramental purposes—everyone laughed when Joseph Saxon said he was going to grow wine in commercial quantities. The land was barren, people told him. But he was determined to prove them wrong.” Joshua’s mouth slanted wryly. “Stubborn old bastard. The locals called it Saxon’s Folly. The name stuck.”
“So that’s who you get it from.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The name Saxon?”
She laughed appreciatively. “The stubbornness. The hard-nosed streak.”
He touched his nose. “Soft as butter.”
“Sure,” she said, smiling up at him. And warmth rose within her as he smiled back at her.
But Alyssa was no longer smiling when, back in her bedroom, she managed to sneak a call back to her editor later that afternoon.
“I’ve been hearing things about Saxon’s Folly … rumbles in the jungle,” David said without preamble. “Let me see what more I can find out. I’ll get back to you to see if there’s enough for a story.”
A story about Saxon’s Folly?
Alyssa’s heart sank. “I haven’t heard anything … and I don’t want to do a story now. Isn’t there anyone else available?” She was no longer certain she could guarantee an impartial perspective. “I’m on leave, David.”
“Maybe you won’t need to use up your leave,” he said cryptically. “I’ll call you once I know more. And don’t forget to send that obituary through by tomorrow.”
Alyssa killed the phone. Oh, heavens, Joshua would have conniptions if he discovered David was considering assigning her a story about his precious vineyard and family. It would be best to say nothing. After all, David’s rumbles might turn out to be nothing more than unsubstantiated rumours.
With that conclusion, Alyssa’s step lightened. For now, she would put it out of her mind and concentrate on learning about her brother’s life for her own satisfaction. Nothing more.
“Jump in,” Joshua called to Alyssa late the following afternoon as he throttled back the engine of the Range Rover and drew up behind her.
A quick hello and she clambered into the cab, slinging her handbag at her feet. His rapid sideways glance showed long, feminine legs encased in dark blue denim and a purple T-shirt moulding curves that caused his chest to constrict and heat to shoot downward.
He forced his gaze away from her. “My meeting was unavoidable.” His voice was suddenly husky. He cleared his throat. “What have you been doing?” Better, Joshua decided.
“Nothing much.” Alyssa paused, pulling a notebook and pencil from her bag. “After you left I took a walk around the winery—Caitlyn kindly showed me around.”
Joshua relaxed a fraction. He’d been uneasy about leaving Alyssa alone, uncertain what mischief she might wreak left untended. But he’d had no choice. Work came first. He risked another glance at her. Her hair was blowing around her face and her rosy lips tilted up.
Another surge of lust hit him. Shaken by the force of it, he tightened his fists around the steering wheel
