room with tables laden with finger food failed to reveal Roland.
Roland must’ve taken his fiancée—Amy—upstairs. Alyssa hesitated, eyeing a staircase that appeared to lead to another wing. The bedrooms must be up there. What if she disturbed them in an … intimate moment?
Her teeth played with her bottom lip. She’d come so far, she couldn’t chicken out now. Drawing a deep breath, she moved toward the stairs.
But before she got there, the door on her right swung open and a brunette burst out. Amy. Her colour was high, her hair mussed. Alyssa stopped, and then Roland came rushing into the corridor, his eye patch in his hand, his expression determined.
“Amy, listen to—”
“Roland?” Like a sleepwalker Alyssa reached out and touched his arm. “Roland Saxon?”
She knew exactly who he was but she couldn’t help enunciating the name that had been imprinted on her mind for years.
He gave her an impatient glance. “Yes?”
“I’m—” She hesitated, her mind suddenly blank. Everything she’d planned to say withered under the attack of doubt devils. Dare she reveal herself as Alice McKay? He hadn’t responded to any of her letters or e-mails, so why should he be any more welcoming now?
He glanced past her to where the brunette had taken the main stairs and disappeared in the direction of the ballroom.
Concerned that he would brush by her and vanish again, Alyssa thrust out her hand and said, “I’m Alyssa Blake. I’m—”
Recognition flared in the eyes that met hers in astonishment. “The journalist who did that hatchet job on Saxon’s Folly. Yes, I know who you are.”
No, you don’t.
Finally, to her immense relief, he took her hand and shook it, before letting it drop. “What are you doing here?”
Alyssa found she was shaking. Roland had touched her. His skin had been warm and solid. Real. She’d met him. At last.
Struggling for composure, she said, “I’d like to arrange to interview you for a feature in Wine Watch.”
Now she had his full attention, but his expression had shifted to wariness. “What would the focus of the story be?”
“I’m doing a story on how some of the strongest brands in the industry have been built. As the marketing director of Saxon’s Folly Wines, I’d like your comments.”
“You haven’t been too complimentary about Saxon’s Folly in the past, Ms. Blake.”
“Maybe I’ve had a change of mind.” Please, God, let him believe it. She needed a chance to meet with him one-on-one. They had so much to talk about.
“I don’t know—”
“Please.” She was practically begging now. “It will be a positive article. I promise.”
“Why should I trust you? Joshua believed you were going to do a feature on the estate. Instead you lambasted his management methods.”
“Joshua Saxon had it coming,” she said heatedly. “He’s the most aggravatingly uncommunicative man I’ve ever interviewed.” The man had refused to see her in person, had given her precisely ten minutes of his time on the phone. And during each miserable second of those minutes his terse voice had made it clear that he was doing her a favour. A very junior cellar hand who’d been in the job for less than a week had shown her around the winery. Alyssa had asked him about his job and discovered that the previous cellar hand had been fired under very hush-hush circumstances. A few calls to the disgruntled former employee and she had a different story from the one she’d planned to do. Now she told Roland, “The facts bore me out.”
“Joshua didn’t think so.”
“I did my job.”
He looked her up and down. “Some job.”
“I tell the public what they ought to know.” She knew that sounded pious. So she drew a steadying breath. “Look, this is getting us nowhere. The piece I’m working on now is different. You can even see the copy before it goes to print.” Something she’d never offered but she had to see him privately.
He looked dubious. “Why the change of heart? And why ask me now, here at the ball? Why not contact me by more conventional ways, telephone—or even e-mail—to set up an appointment?”
I tried.
You never responded.
She’d tried as Alice McKay. She’d reveal Alice tomorrow. All she could do now was tempt him with the promise of a great profile. He was a marketing man. Unlike his arrogant brother, he knew he needed the goodwill of the press. “It will be great publicity for you, for Saxon’s Folly.”
But already he was moving past her. Time to give him an ultimatum. She spoke to his back. “Yes or no?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
Alyssa knew she’d lost his attention. “When?” Alyssa switched into the familiar role, closing the escape route. “I’m in the area tomorrow. Shall we meet at The Grapevine—” she named a popular café “—in town?”
He turned his head and gave a slow nod, and her heart leapt. At last! Quickly she confirmed a time. Alyssa wanted to punch a fist in the air and yell, “Yes.” After all the years …
But instead she smiled sedately and banished her impatience. Time enough tomorrow to celebrate.
Joshua Saxon was frowning. The fascination that his mystery lady in red held for him was fast becoming a compulsion. He’d been holding the two bottles of Perrier, and positioned himself so that he wouldn’t miss the lady when she reappeared. But she hadn’t.
Either he’d missed her. Or she hadn’t been as desperate to go to the cloakroom as she’d led him to believe.
He made for the balcony on the off chance that she’d passed him and gone outside.
As soon as he stepped outside he wished he hadn’t. Roland, no mask concealing his features, had Amy pinned against the balcony rail, trying to say something. But Amy was shaking her head wildly, her mask askew, telling Roland she was going home.
Under the hanging party lights Joshua caught a glimpse of tears streaking her cheeks. Roland growled that she wasn’t going anywhere.
None of his business. Neither of them would thank him for the interference.
Then he spotted a flash of dark red in the gardens below and all thoughts about his brother’s romantic problems fled. Alice. He leapt down the stairs that led to the garden.
“You aren’t leaving already, are you?”
She turned, her rich red dress swirling around her legs, every line of her body revealing her surprise.
“Umm …”
“You were.” Outraged,
