I decide I won’t mention the discovery of my newfound information about Mr. McLachlan. Learning his last name changes nothing for us. I won’t try to find him once I leave Australia. There’s no reason to worry him, so let him continue to believe he still holds this secret from me.
28
Jack McLachlan
Spending the day with Laurelyn stretched out on a lounge chair by the pool is a perfect way to spend New Year’s Day. The view is mighty fine with her barely there black bikini, but I worry her skin isn’t prepared for the harsh Australian sun.
“You should put on sunscreen so you don’t sunbake too much.”
She rises on her elbows and peers over her sunnies at me. “I thought I might get a little sun before I put it on.”
“I’m afraid it’ll sneak up on you.”
“I guess you would know better than I do.”
She sits up and grabs the bottle of SPF 70 from the table and begins to massage it into her skin. “This is a new one for me. I’ve never been swimming on New Year’s Day.”
“I guess lots of things seem backwards to you.”
I can’t see her eyes through her sunnies, but she smiles and I wonder what she’s thinking. “Yeah, a few things.” She holds the bottle out in my direction. “Would you do my back for me?”
I cover her in a generous application. When I finish, I return to thumbing through the summer issue of the Winery and Vineyard Journal. I find the article I wrote on vine grafting and I’m in the middle of it when Laurelyn asks, “Whatcha reading?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“So, you’re working even when you’re not working.”
I’m sure it appears that way to her. “I guess so.”
I place the magazine on the table and she reaches for it. “Maybe I should read this so I can understand more about what you do.”
“Winemaking interests you?”
“Not really, but you interest me.”
She thumbs through the magazine and I see her stop on my article. I panic as I pray she doesn’t recognize me in the photograph. “I’m getting into the pool. Why don’t you join me? You can read all the exciting articles on winemaking later.”
“Vine grafting.” She glances at me. “Is this the same process you’re doing here at Avalon?”
I get up to take the journal and place it on the table. “It is, and you can read all about the thrilling adventures in grafting later. It’s hot. Come into the pool with me to cool off.”
She has no idea how close she is to figuring me out, so I tug on her hands. “Come on.”
She shakes her head and gets up from the lounger. “You always get your way, don’t you?”
Laurelyn follows me into the pool. She takes her hair out of the bun and tosses the elastic band to the sidewalk before she dips her head backwards. She lifts her head out of the pool and pushes the water away from her face.
She’s a magnet and I’m metal. I can’t resist the pull between us so I move closer and put my hands around her waist. She puts her arms around my shoulders and wraps her legs around me, but not in a sexual way. She’s being playful.
“So, Mrs. Porcelli and Daniel travel with you when you’re stationed at different vineyards?”
Stationed. That’s a good word to describe the way I travel with work. “They come with me anytime I stay more than a week, and I try to give them several days to be home with their families before we leave again.”
“What do you think Mrs. Porcelli thinks of you never bringing a woman home?”
I laugh as I picture Laurelyn prancing into the kitchen in nothing but her panties and my T-shirt. “She probably thought I was g*y until you showed up in the kitchen barely wearing enough to cover this.” I glide my hands over the bottom of her bikini.
“It’s not funny, Lachlan.” She pretends to be mad but can’t quite pull it off—not with the underlying grin trying to break through.
“I’m very sorry you were embarrassed, but I did tell you she would be here today.”
“I know, but it slipped my mind because it’s only been the two of us in the house since my first night with you.”
I like the full-time privacy when we’re the only ones here. Perhaps I should give Daniel and Mrs. Porcelli some additional vacation during our stay at Avalon.
I haven’t explained my employees’ routines to Laurelyn. “None of the staff is in the house before eight or after five unless asked to be.”
“Oh. They don’t sleep in the house?”
“No, they have their own quarters in the guest house. They need their privacy as well.”
I see the relief on her face. “Of course they do.”
Mrs. Porcelli comes out of the house carrying a serving tray with two plates. “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought some sangers and fruit.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Porcelli. We’ll have lunch at the patio table.” She leaves the food and returns inside the house. “Are you hungry?”
Laurelyn winks at me. “I had a late breakfast, but I could eat again.”
“You always have brekkie late, sleepyhead.” She retaliates by splashing water in my face. I lift my hand and make a production of wiping the water from my eyes. Laurelyn lets go of me and begins backing away because she knows what’s coming. “Oh, you asked for this. There’s no backing out now.”
I catch her by the arm and pull her to me. I lock my arms around hers, holding them by her side as I prepare to dunk her.
“Please, don’t,” she screams and I hear hysteria in her voice.
I release my grip so I’m able to turn her around. I’m shocked by the pure terror I see in her eyes. “What’s wrong, Laurelyn?”
She drops her face. “Nothing.” She pushes away, so I let her go. She gets out of the pool and wraps a towel around her body before sitting at the table where lunch is waiting.
I get out to join her, but I’m not sure if I’m welcome. Her eyes continue to avoid mine and it’s because something isn’t right with her. “Lunch looks good.”
“Uh-huh.” That’s all I get.
I begin to eat while she ignores the food on her plate. “Mrs. P. will think you don’t like her food if you don’t eat something.” This isn’t my happy, carefree Laurelyn in front of me. This one is guarded and withdrawn. I want the other one back. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”