For Jessie's Sake. Kate Welsh

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Dedication

      Daddy,

      You lived your final days as I wrote this book, ever unselfish, always gracious. You showed me so much just by the way you lived your life. You are my first hero and some of you lives in every hero I create. You taught me what a man should be, how a husband should love, how a father should protect, teach and nurture. You showed me that a legacy happens only by a life well lived. You told everyone who visited in those last years that you were the happiest man in the world – and you meant it. You always told us if you stood on the top of a mountain and looked back at your life, at every fork in the road, you’d know you’d made the right choice. I don’t know if I’ll be able to say that at the end of my life, but I do know I started on my road from the best place anyone could – from your loving arms. You will be forever missed. There will never be another like you because the Lord broke the mould the day you were born. I will be forever grateful that you were here for me and with me for so long.

       Tatter

      Acknowledgement

      I would like to thank everyone at Sand Castle Winery, especially Joseph, for their invaluable information and lovely winery and vineyard. Without your vision, mine would never have been born.

      Chapter One

      Colin McCarthy had returned to Hopetown, and Abby Hopewell’s world had tilted off its axis.

      Life as she’d known it—as she’d carefully recreated it—had just ended in a flash of thunder and lightning.

      He stood in Cliff Walk’s gleaming foyer, dripping on her carefully restored hardwood floors. Worse, he still looked every bit as gorgeous as the last time she’d seen him.

      Same thick mane of mahogany-colored hair. Same stormy blue eyes. She still felt the same electricity just being in his presence, the overwhelming need to feel his arms around her.

      She clenched a fist under her desk. He was still the same man who’d become her first and only lover, then turned into a coldhearted stranger within minutes.

      “Abby,” Colin said, and stared, clearly as shocked to see her as she was to see him. For a moment, his expression was gentle and loving, then hot and hungry the way it had been that one time…but then his lips tightened, his jaw hardened. His eyes went glacial. “What’s an illustrious Hopewell doing working as a desk clerk in a backwater bed-and-breakfast?”

      The change puzzled her now as much as it had then. She’d done nothing but admit to loving him. Nothing but give him all she was—all she had to give. He was the one who’d changed. Who’d hurt her.

      Nevertheless, hearing the tone in his voice tore her heart in two all over again, reminding her of the most painful moments of her life.

      She’d stepped out of Colin’s bedroom that long-ago night they’d made love, still feeling cherished yet prepared for a bit of awkwardness. That would have made sense. What she hadn’t been ready for was Colin’s harsh dismissal of her and the feelings she’d thought they shared.

      Abby had spent years rehearsing for this moment but, by showing up on her doorstep out of the blue, he’d taken her by surprise. She reached inside herself, searching for the calm she desperately needed, clearing her senses of the longing he’d always made her feel.

      She wasn’t less nervous but she was in control, her tone cool and collected. She said in her frostiest tone, “Cliff Walk is actually a very successful and highly acclaimed establishment. And since I happen to be part owner and manager here,” she went on, her voice managing somehow to chill even further, “I have the right to ask you to remove yourself from the premises. Good night.”

      The Hopewells didn’t have the money they’d had before her father’s death and the subsequent lawsuit that had all but bankrupted his estate. But they were no longer so badly off financially that she had to put up with having someone so detestable under her roof.

      She looked back down at the receipts she’d carefully sorted. They’d been stirred like leaves in a hurricane when Colin had opened the door. With an annoyed huff Abby began resorting her piles, pretending his presence was of little consequence. She hoped he didn’t notice the way her hands shook.

      Then a small voice brightened the stormy night while making Abby’s heart ache. “Oh, Daddy! I was right. It is a palace. And you bringed me to meet Snow White!”

      Abby looked up to see a tiny cherub about four years old clinging to Colin’s leg under his dripping slicker. Without warning, the child broke away and zipped across the foyer to the Victorian desk where Abby sat rooted to her chair.

      The little girl wore an expression of complete and total awe. Like Abby, she had pitch-black shoulder- length hair, but hers looked as if it hadn’t seen a comb in a week. Unlike Abby, who’d often cursed her fair skin, the child had a soft olive complexion that happened to be smeared with some undeterminated food. She had big, deep brown, nearly-black eyes—the left sporting a genuine black eye. Right then they were wide and adoring as she stared at Abby. The child’s clothes were rumpled, spotted with raindrops and more suited to a boy than a girl.

      She was adorable.

      And had her father not turned out to be the scum of the earth, she might have been Abby’s child. The night of Abby’s high school graduation had caused her so much grief that nine years later she still loathed the entire month of June.

      And, of course, Colin McCarthy.

      “Do you live in this palace?” Colin’s daughter asked, still apparently confusing Abby with a fairy- tale character.

      Colin advanced and put his hands protectively on the child’s shoulders. “The lady just runs this bed-and- breakfast, Jessie. She lives in a big fancy house by the river.”