had been something of a burden for her. And Maura had been envious of friends who were lucky enough to have a loving, caring father.
Learning that her own father was alive and living in California had rocked her to the core, and she knew she would never rest until she’d met him face-to-face and asked him why he’d turned his back on her and her mother all those years ago.
She needed to know. She deserved to know.
Reentering the bedroom, she noticed the tasteful decor. A cream-colored carpet covered the floor, and the bedroom furniture, made from mahogany, consisted of a dressing table with matching nightstands and a beautifully carved headboard on the queen-size bed.
The bedspread reminded Maura of a field of wild-flowers, and the walls, painted a pale shade of apricot, gave the room a cool ambience.
Crossing to her suitcase she lifted it onto the bed and proceeded to unpack.
Spencer stood at the wet bar in the dining room and poured himself a generous serving of whisky. His parents were in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal.
Ten years ago his father had handed the business of running the ranch over to Spencer. Since then his father derived a great deal of pleasure from puttering around in the kitchen.
During the years he and his brother and sister had been growing up, his mother had hired a cook. And once they’d all left home for college or a career, his mother hadn’t had the heart to let Mrs. B. go. Mrs. B. had taught her new and apt pupil, Elliot Diamond, everything she knew, while his mother had happily encouraged her husband to take over in the kitchen.
Spencer smiled. After more than forty years of marriage his parents were still very much in love and truly enjoyed each other’s company. And when Spencer had married Lucy, he’d been sure that theirs would be the kind of marriage that would last.
He’d been wrong. His marriage had been nothing short of a disaster, souring his dreams and leaving him adrift on a sea of pain and bitterness.
A faint sound caught his attention, and he turned to see Maura standing in the doorway dressed in a cream blouse and rainbow-colored skirt that reached her ankles. Her coppery hair was tamed into a severe knot at the base of her elegant neck.
“Come in,” he invited, aware once more of a swift jab of attraction at the sight of her. “May I pour you a drink?” he asked, deciding he liked her much better with her hair flowing free, the way he’d seen her the first time they met. He was sorely tempted to walk over and remove the pins.
“Soda water would be nice, thank you,” she replied. She came toward him, stopping on the other side of the bar.
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in a glass of Chardonnay? Or a Riesling perhaps? California wineries produce some of the best wines in the world.”
She nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip, and instantly his stomach muscles clenched and an emotion, long dormant, stirred deep inside him.
“Thank you. I’d love to try a California Chardonnay.”
“Good choice,” he replied. Setting his glass on the bar, he opened the small fridge below the counter and brought out a bottle of wine.
With practiced ease he stripped off its foil cover and withdrew the cork with the aid of a big brass corkscrew clamped onto the bar.
“Now there’s a clever device,” Maura commented. She watched him pour the pale gold liquid into a wineglass.
“And very efficient,” he said, handing her the glass.
“Thank you.” Her fingers brushed his and at the fleeting contact, a shiver of sensation darted up her arm. She threw him a startled glance, and as their gazes collided, her heart lurched painfully and her breath froze in her throat.
“There you are, Maura,” Nora Diamond’s greeting shattered the tension-filled silence. It was with some relief Maura turned to her hostess. “Is your room comfortable?” Nora asked.
“It’s lovely, thank you,” Maura responded.
“Be sure and let me know if you need anything,” Nora said with a smile. “Is that Chardonnay you’re drinking?”
Maura nodded. “Your son kindly poured me a glass.”
“Spencer, dear. I’ll have one, too,” his mother said. “Oh…and, Maura, when it comes to mealtimes, they’re usually a casual affair. My husband told me to announce that dinner’s ready, so please take a seat anywhere at the table,” she went on. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and give Elliot a hand.”
Careful to avoid Spencer’s gaze, Maura crossed to the oak dining table. Setting down her glass she pulled out the nearest chair.
“How’s the wine?” Spencer asked coming up behind her. He held the chair for her, and as she sat down she could feel his warm breath fanning the back of her neck.
Awareness danced across her skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. It took every ounce of control to stop her hand from shaking as she reached for her wineglass.
She sipped the Chardonnay, more to steady her nerves than to taste, and as the silky coolness slide down her throat, the tension inside her slowly began to ease.
“Hmm.…it’s lovely. Refreshing, with a crisp fruity taste,” she said brightly.
“I’m impressed.” Spencer placed the glass his mother had ordered next to a place setting. “And here I thought folks from Kentucky only drank bourbon.”
“Oh…we do.” Maura heard the humor in his voice and fought to hide a grin. “And it’s the best bourbon in the world, as you know. But there are some of us who have actually been known to recognize a decent glass of wine when we taste one.”
Spencer emitted a low rumble of laughter. The sound sent a fresh flurry of sensation chasing down her spine.
Suddenly Elliot appeared carrying a steaming platter to the table. He flashed Maura a smile as he set down a dish of chicken breasts drowning in a creamy mushroom sauce.
Nora followed with two serving dishes, one containing steamed potatoes, the other a variety of vegetables.
Once they were seated and the food served, conversation drifted easily from one subject to another as they ate.
Spencer occupied the chair directly across from Maura, and she found it both annoying and disconcerting that each time their gazes met her heart skipped a beat.
“Did you say Michael is due home tomorrow?” The question came from Spencer, and Maura quickly shook off the feeling of fatigue slowly descending on her and, holding her breath, waited for a response.
“I believe he gets in sometime in the afternoon,” Nora reported.
“Where exactly was he cruising to?” Maura asked hoping to keep the subject of her father in the forefront.
“The Caribbean,” Elliot replied. “Though I don’t recall which ports of call he was visiting.”
“Does he travel a lot?” Maura asked, her tone light.
