Mila was the hardest thing Jordan’s ever had to do. However, when fate brings them back together, he’s reminded of what drew him to his beautiful wife in the first place, and he wonders if it’s ever too late to try again?
To my husband, Grant. Thank you for showing me what
a strong relationship is. It’s knowing that we can face
whatever comes our way that has helped me to write
about a relationship that survives after the unthinkable.
You are my inspiration. I love you.
And for the incredibly strong women in my family.
Your courage in facing the most heartbreaking of losses
inspired this story. Your determination in facing the
future inspired these characters.
I hope it brings you a measure of comfort.
JORDAN THOMAS COULDN’T take his eyes off his event planner.
Well, he supposed he couldn’t exactly call her ‘his’ when his father had been the one to hire her. But since he had inherited his mother’s half of the vineyard—which he would have gladly traded to have her back—he figured his father’s decision went for the both of them.
‘Are you going to keep staring at her, or are you going to introduce yourself?’
His father, Gregory, barely glanced at him as he said the words. The serious tone Greg had used would have alarmed anyone who didn’t know him—would have made him seem almost angry—but at twenty-seven years old Jordan knew the nuances of his father’s voice. Greg was baiting him.
‘I’m still thinking about it. I’m not sure I want to bother her an hour before the event,’ Jordan answered.
When his father didn’t reply, he sighed.
‘Maybe you should call her over so that I can introduce myself, Dad.’
His father nodded his approval. ‘Mila! Would you come over here for a second?’
The minute she started walking towards them, Jordan’s heart raced. She was absolutely beautiful, he thought as he took in the perfectly designed features of her face. A small nose led to luscious lips, pink as a cherry blossom and which curved into a smile when she saw his father. The smile kicked his heart up another notch even though her brown eyes watched him carefully, surrounded by the fullest, darkest eyelashes he had ever seen.
He wondered idly if they were like that with help from cosmetic enhancements, but something told him that everything about her was natural. She made him think of the fields where his grapes grew in the vineyard—of the vibrancy of their colours and the feeling of home he always felt looking at it.
He didn’t have time to ponder the unsettling thought when she stopped in front of them.
‘Mila, you haven’t had the chance to meet my son yet.’ Greg nudged Jordan, and if Jordan hadn’t been so mesmerised by the woman in front of him, he might have wondered at his father pushing him towards her.
But all thoughts flew out of his head the minute he introduced himself and she said, ‘Mila Dennis,’ and took his outstretched hand.
He’d thought there would be heat—a natural reaction to touching someone he found attractive. But he hadn’t expected the heat to burn through his entire body. He hadn’t expected the longing that curled in his stomach, the desire to make her his. But most of all he hadn’t expected the pull that he felt towards her—a connection that went beyond the physical.
She pulled her hand away quickly, tucking a non-existent piece of hair behind her ear, and he knew she had felt it, too.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Thomas.’
Her voice sounded like music to him and he frowned, wondering at his reaction to a woman he hadn’t even known for five minutes.
‘Jordan, please. Mr Thomas is my father.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched as a smile spread across Greg’s face. Jordan felt his eyebrows raise.
‘Actually, Mila doesn’t call me that,’ Greg said, and Jordan realised Greg’s smile was aimed at Mila. It was a sign of affection that made their relationship seem more than that of employer/employee. It was almost...familial. Almost, because Greg didn’t even share his smiles—a rare commodity—with his family. With his son.
He would have to ask his father about it, Jordan thought when Mila’s lips curved in response. But then she looked at Jordan and the smile faltered.
‘Well, I think it’s best that I get back. We have hundreds of people coming today. It was a great idea to host a Valentine’s Day Under the Stars event.’
‘It was mine.’ Jordan wasn’t sure why he said it, but he wanted her to know that he was responsible for the idea that had brought the two of them together.
He had a feeling it would be significant.
‘Well, it was a great one.’ She frowned, as though she wasn’t sure how to respond to him. ‘I’ll see you both a little later then. Greg...’ She smiled at Jordan’s father, but again it faltered when she turned her attention to him. ‘Jordan...’
She said his name carefully, as though it was a minefield she was navigating through. He watched her, saw the flash of awareness and then denial in her eyes, and something settled inside him.
‘What was that?’
His father had waited for Mila to leave before asking, and Jordan turned to him, noting the carefully blank expression on Greg’s face.
‘I think I’ve just met the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.’
Greg’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under the hair that had fallen over his forehead. And then came another nod of approval.
‘I knew you were a smart boy,’ he said, and a warm feeling spread through Jordan’s heart at what he knew was high praise coming from his father.
* * *
Meeting Jordan Thomas had unsettled Mila so much that she’d almost lost her headline act.
When she heard the commotion in the tent they’d set up behind the amphitheatre stage—and saw the sympathetic look Lulu, her assistant and long-time friend, shot her on her way towards the sound—Mila knew she was about to walk into a drama.
‘Why would you do this to me on Valentine’s Day?’ Karen, the pretty singer that the whole of South Africa had been raving about since she’d won the biggest singing competition in the country, was wailing. ‘You couldn’t wait one day before breaking up with me? And right before a performance, too!’
Wails turned into heart-wrenching sobs—the kind that could only come from a
