The Wayward Son. Yvonne Lindsay
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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 driveway that led off the property. “You mentioned yesterday that it’s your first time in Adelaide,” he probed. “What made you decide to come here for a break?”
She remained silent for a moment. From the corner of his eye he could see her press her lips together, as if she was holding back her instinctive answer and taking the time to formulate another.
“It was suggested to me,” she said, averting her gaze out the side window.
Oh, he’d put money on the fact it was suggested to her, and by whom. Even without the insight his mother had offered, it was Anna’s evasiveness that gave her away. He’d known that she had something to hide, and now that he suspected it involved his father, he was absolutely determined to find out what it was before the day was out. In the meantime, there was nothing, absolutely nothing, stopping him from having a good time along the way.
As they turned out the driveway that led from the vineyard and out onto the main road heading toward the hills, he saw her gaze pulled up onto the ridge and to the silhouette of the devastated building that stood there. He waited for her to say something, to ask about what had happened. Everyone did, eventually. But she remained silent. The expression on her face was pensive. Some devil of mischief prompted him to comment.
“It was magnificent in its day, you know.”
“I beg your pardon?” She turned to face him.
“Masters’ Rise, the house up there.” He let go of the steering wheel with one hand and gestured up toward the hills.
“It was your family home?”
Did she really not realize, or was she just bluffing? “Not that one, although I lived briefly in a replica of it back in New Zealand when I was young.” When she didn’t comment on that, he pointed back up the hill. “Masters’ Rise was destroyed before my time. My mother and uncles lived there as youngsters, though. I don’t think the family pride ever quite recovered from its loss. I know for a fact that my mother’s didn’t. And it wasn’t just losing the house—a good bit of the vineyard was destroyed, as well.”
“It wasn’t as if they could have done anything to stop it, though, was there?”
“Done anything?”
“Well, it was a bushfire, wasn’t it?”
He shot her a piercing glance.
“At least that’s what I think I read somewhere,” she added hastily.
Oh, good cover, he thought before slowly nodding.
“They were lucky to escape with their lives,” he said. “Unfortunately, they didn’t have much else—well, not much else but the Masters’ tenacity. Rebuilding the house wasn’t an option—not when they had to recreate their entire livelihood, as well. It would have taken everything they had left and they were forced to choose between rebuilding their home or reestablishing the vineyards and winery.”
“Tough choices. It’s a shame they couldn’t do both.”
“Yeah.”
Judd lapsed into silence. Wondering, not for the first time, how different life might have been if the Masters family hadn’t been forced into that decision. It couldn’t have been easy for his mother and her brothers, starting over from scratch, seeing the life of ease and plenty they’d enjoyed vanishing in a flash. Was that why it had been so easy for Charles Wilson to sweep Cynthia off her feet? Was the life of wealth and luxury he offered truly impossible for a girl, who’d spent so long struggling, to resist?
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Anna asked, her voice artificially bright. “Last night you mentioned Hahndorf, right? Where and what is it?”
Judd flashed her a smile before transferring his attention back to the road in front of them.
“It was originally a German settlement, established in the early eighteen hundreds. Much of the original architecture still survives and is used today. It’s not far from here, but I thought I’d take you a couple of other places first and then we’ll head back into Hahndorf for lunch.”
“Sounds lovely, thanks. Really, I appreciate you taking time out of your schedule for me.”
Judd reached out and caught her hand in his, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“I want to get to know you better, Anna. Can’t do that stuck in my office, now, can I?”
To his surprise, a flush of color spread across her cheeks. She blushed? The ingenuousness of the act was totally at odds with the wanton he’d held in his arms last night. Yeah, there was no doubt about it. Anna Garrick intrigued him, and he liked being intrigued—even if it was by someone with a hidden agenda.
Her fingers tingled beneath his touch and Anna felt heat surge through her body, staining her cheeks. God, this effect he had on her would be her undoing. She gently withdrew her hand, distracting herself by poking about in her handbag for a tissue. Her fingertips brushed against the envelope holding the letter from Charles and she pulled her hand out of the bag so rapidly she elicited another one of those piercing looks from Judd.
“So,” she said, forcing her heartbeat to resume a more normal rate with a few calming breaths, “where are you taking me first?”
He gestured to the highest peak ahead of them.
“Mount Lofty. From there you’ll see the whole of Adelaide spread out before you.”
Judd proved himself to be a very efficient tour guide. That he knew the area like the back of