Nico Jordan surveyed the front of the ranch-style house
where his half brother's widow lived, and scowled into the
frosty morning air. She'd left him for Kent and
this pretentious piece of real estate?
Well, to be fair, Kent's personal fortune had probably
bought Beth several houses besides this one, and jewels by
the bucket—things Nico wouldn't have been able to
afford back when he was twenty-four.
Things had changed in the last five years.
More things than he cared to remember.
But Kent was dead, Beth was now a widow and Nico had a job
to do. He rolled up the pages in his hand and knocked on the
door with a clenched fist. He'd volunteered to finalize the
paperwork in person regarding his dead brother's share of
the family vineyards because he had to see Beth one more
time. To have her in his bed one more time.
Despite his best efforts, he'd never managed to control his
craving for the woman who'd betrayed him.
He lifted his fist to knock again but the door opened with a
whoosh of warm air and then Beth stood there, more beautiful
than he remembered, her so-familiar Cupid's bow mouth open,
her sapphire blue eyes wide.
Suddenly he was transported back five years to the last time
they'd made love among the pinot noir vines on his family's
estate in Australia. They'd both pledged undying love that
day—the day before she'd left the country to marry his
brother.
"Nico." She sounded breathless, as if she'd been
running, but there was no flush on her cheeks. In fact, she
looked pale.
Her strawberry blond hair was shorter, in a pixie cut now,
which only made her heart-shaped face sweeter. His gaze
swept down—she'd lost some weight, leaving her a
little too thin, but that didn't stop the pull of dark
desire that flooded his system.
Yet he offered her no more than a cynical smile. "Good
morning, Beth. I've come to offer you the family's
condolences on the loss of your husband, and to talk about
some inheritance issues."
Beth's eyes darted to the side and she turned, hurriedly
scanning the lavish room. He could see through to a living
room beyond—also decorated in tasteful elegance. Then
she stepped out onto the porch, closing the door firmly, but
quietly behind her. "Thank you for the condolences. That
was thoughtful of…your family."
There was no love lost between his family and Beth—his
father blamed her in part for Kent moving here to New
Zealand to manage these minor vineyards and cutting most
family ties. That wasn't the crime Nico held her
accountable for, however. "No trouble at all for the
widow of our dear Kent."
She had the grace to look unsettled. Though she should feel
worse than merely "unsettled" after the anguish
she'd caused him.
Her eyes slid to the windowpane in the door then back to
him. "Surely any paperwork can be handled by attorneys?
You didn't need to come all the way from Australia."
He leaned one arm on the closed door, dipping his head
several inches closer. "Oh, bella, but I did."
She flinched at the use of the endearment, the one he'd
whispered so often on lazy afternoons in her parents'
hammock, or in the heat of passion when she lay under him.
"If we have to talk, then not here. I'll meet you
somewhere." Her voice betrayed nerves—and
determination.
"Are you telling me I'm not welcome in my own brother's
house?" He didn't bother to hide the irony in his
tone—he knew his brother would have stabbed him in the
back rather than invite him into his home. Their lifelong,
bitter rivalry had reached its peak after Kent's marriage to
Beth. She had been immediately whisked overseas to sever all
ties with her past, but even worse, to maintain the
estrangement, Kent's son had never seen his grandfather or
his Uncle Nico. A situation Nico intended to rectify.
He ran his gaze over Beth again. Kent had probably been wise
to be paranoid about his wife. Had Beth strayed across
Nico's path after her marriage, he wouldn't have thought
twice about poaching on his brother's territory. Kent hadn't
bothered with those rules.
But Kent was gone.
Beth darted another look inside and raised a hand to circle
her throat. "Nico, do this for me. If we have to talk,
meet me another day, somewhere else."
What was she hiding? Was she continuing Kent's plan to keep
his son from his family? Or did she have a lover stashed
away? Perhaps both.
"Five minutes alone and you're already asking favors,
bella." Nico let his hand fall from the door,
considering his options. Despite his determination to harden
his heart, the plea in her eyes tugged at him, made it
almost impossible to refuse her anything. But he must
remember she was a good actress. This was the woman who'd
strung him along for eleven months and then left him as soon
as she got a better offer from his richer half brother.
And yet…
Deciding to grant this one favor, Nico blew out a breath.
"I'm here only for the weekend, so we'll talk today, in
one hour. At my hotel room."
"In one hour?" She reached behind and grasped the
door to support herself. "That will be difficult.
Perhaps tomorrow?"
He'd conceded enough. He turned to go. "If you're not
there in one hour, I'll be back. I'll also make a petition
to the court that your son has access to his grandfather.
The papers are drawn up and in the car ready to be lodged."
He and this small boy were the only family his father had
left, which was tragic for a family man like Tim Jordan.
Nico had always been exceptionally close to his father and
he'd do whatever it took to bring some joy to the older man,
especially now he was so ill.
"Nico, you don't understand—"
Her voice, fraught with panic, didn't move him. He had no
time to listen to her excuses.
"One hour, Beth. I'm staying at The Imperial." He
strode toward his car, not looking back.
One hour later, Beth stood outside Nico's penthouse suite,
barely able to get her fuddled brain to think clearly.
Nico, the only man she'd ever loved, was back. The man she'd
protected by sacrificing her own hopes for happiness.
As soon as his car had left her drive, she'd run to find her
son and taken him to her parents' house nearby. Kent had
bought the place for them, not out of the goodness of his
heart, but to ensure she had no reason to visit Australia
again. They were already set to have him for the night and
following day, allowing her to attend the launch of Kent's
final white wine blend this evening. They'd been thrilled to
have the extra morning with little Marco—or Mark, as
Kent had christened him.
Only she called her four-year-old son by the name she used
in her heart.
Her parents must have guessed her baby's true parentage,
though—her reddish blond hair and fair skin mixed with
Kent's ruddy complexion could never have made a child with
strong Mediterranean coloring. Marco's olive skin, chocolate
eyes and dark hair were so obviously the coloring Nico had
inherited from his own mother. However Beth's parents had
never said a word and she'd silently thanked them for that.
But if Nico saw him…
No. Not yet. Beth wrapped her arms around her waist. She
couldn't let him near his own son until it was safe. The
consequences for Nico were still too great to tell him. She
just needed to keep the secret while he was here on this
trip. It wouldn't be long before she could come clean about
everything.
In the meantime, convenient or not, if Nico wanted to see
her today, then she'd go along with it. She knew what the
stakes were—he didn't.
With a heavy heart, she rapped on the door.
She heard footfalls across tiles, then the door dragged open.
He stood there, tall and broad and darkly beautiful, and her
pulse raced into overdrive without him doing a single thing.
His face gave her no indication of his thoughts, no
encouragement, but she needed none. The mere sight of him
made her a little dizzy with joy, just as it had an hour
ago. As it always had when they were younger.
"Give me your coat." He held out a strong bronze hand.
Beth untied the belt of her long black coat and let it fall
to her wrists. He took the garment and hung it from a hook
on the wall, then heat flared in his dark eyes as he
surveyed her thoroughly. Finally, he smiled in satisfaction
and his gaze rested on hers.
She glanced down at her loose, ankle-length, woolen pink
dress. Her clothes were all similar—none were fitted,
none accentuated her as a woman. For five years, she'd
avoided calling sexual attention to herself. For five
years…ever since she'd lost Nico.
Although, the hunger in his glittering eyes now seemed to
make a mockery of her efforts to disguise herself.
He opened the door wider and let her through.
As she walked across the opulent room to the window, the
hair at the back of her neck stood on end and she knew he'd
watched her progress. She'd always known when Nico was
looking at her. She turned slowly from the bird's eye view
of the wintry vineyards to find him blatantly staring. Her
skin tightened and her breasts begged for his skilled
touch—but too much was at stake to be swayed by her
body's physical responses. Nico could lose his inheritance,
his career, even his identity.
He held up a bottle of champagne. "Drink?"
Now of all times, she needed a clear head. "No, thank
you."
He poured something from the bar for himself. If his tastes
hadn't changed, it'd be a pinot noir.
While he was distracted with his task, she drank in the
sight of him—the thick, dark hair she'd once slid her
fingers through; face a little too long to be symmetrical,
but still more dear to her than anything…except the
same face in miniature. Their precious son.
Oh, God, she couldn't stand this tension one minute
longer—she had to know. "Tell me what you came to
New Zealand to say, Nico." Being able to say his name
again gave her heart wings, but she wouldn't let herself
forget what she risked by being here.
Seemingly relaxed, he leaned a hip on the galley-kitchen
counter. "I want several things, but let's start with my
nephew."
Her heart stalled and she felt the blood drain from her
head. "You want Mark?"
Nico looked down his proud nose, appearing every inch the
Italian aristocrat that his mother had been. "He's of my
blood and he's lost his father. I'd like to build a
relationship with the boy."
For a crazy moment, she'd thought he wanted to take her son
away. But—she swallowed—this was almost as bad.
"You know that's not what Kent would have wanted. You
two had sworn to never set eyes on the other again."
It'd been the breach that sent Nico off on his own for three
years—making his own millions on the stock market,
becoming a tabloid darling as one of Australia's richest
playboys. She'd tormented herself by reading the magazines,
insanely jealous of any woman photographed on his arm, yet
praying he was happy.
"What Kent wanted is irrelevant at this point. Do you
think he wanted to die and leave his son fatherless?" He
waved away her protest. "I will see the child and I will
become an uncle to him."
As much as Nico may believe that, if she allowed the
contact, the truth would come to light too soon, and he
wouldn't thank her for the consequences. He would more
likely resent her, possibly blame her.
"He might be fatherless, but he has his mother.
Decisions about who my son will know, and when, are mine.
He's happy with his life here and he's close to his
grandparents and friends." She bit the inside of her
cheek hard, knowing she had to be cruel to be kind, but
still hating saying the words. "He doesn't need you."
Nico took a deliberate sip of his drink then rested his
glass on the bench he still leaned on. "Regardless of
whether he needs me or not, he has a heritage. His family
has been in the wine industry for generations, it's in our
blood, in our DNA. Mark will inherit his share of that
business one day and he needs to grow to understand it."
It's in our blood, in our DNA.
Beth flinched. Nico believed it was in his blood.
How often had she heard him talk of his heritage this way
when they were together? It would destroy him to know the
information detailed in letters Kent had obtained, that Nico
was an illegitimate son—not a son at all. The vineyard
was no more in his blood than it was in hers.
And it would crush him to find he had no biological
connection to the father he loved. She'd always thought Nico
and Tim seemed more like brothers as they worked together on
their estate. Their love and admiration for each other was
beautiful to see.
When Kent had ambushed her with the letters—using them
to blackmail her into marriage—she'd known she had no
choice. Tim Jordan had suffered three major heart attacks
only eight months earlier and the whole family had been
cautioned by the medical staff that he needed to avoid stress.
If she'd refused to comply, Kent would have released the
pages, maybe even splashed them through the tabloids. Nico
would have been destroyed and Tim's stress at finding out
Nico wasn't his son could have brought on another heart
attack. She'd known Kent didn't care about jeopardizing his
own father's life—he was still bitter that Tim had
divorced his mother for Nico's more than twenty years earlier.
Kent had never forgiven any of those involved—Nico and
Nico's mother, or their father—for the marriage that
had usurped him and his mother, Minnie. The marriage that
had seen them moved from the main house to a cottage next door.
It had been up to Beth to stop Kent the only way she
could—by agreeing to his proposal.
That very day, she'd left the country without a word to the
man she loved like no other. The man standing before her.
But everything was different now. Kent was dead. She hadn't
yet found where he'd hidden the letters, but that was only a
matter of time.
From this point on, decisions were hers alone.