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  WINE COUNTRY COURIER

  Community Buzz

  It seems that our wrongly accused Grant Ashton is doing an awful lot of running—to the side of one Anna Sheridan, that is. Who can blame him? After all, she did jump to his rescue and tell the world that he couldn’t have commited Spencer Ashton’s murder because he was with her at the time. And it’s not like she didn’t have a lot to lose. Anna is raising her late sister’s son, and I’m sure she would never do anything that would threaten her custody of the little boy. It certainly will be exciting to see what happens next between the prodigal son and the mistress’s sister.

  But here’s the big surprise…. Sources have confirmed that Spencer’s estranged daughter, Grace Ashton, and her husband have been located. That can only mean trouble for the Ashtons. And for Grace’s twin brother, Grant. Because she has been nothing but trouble for that man. You can be sure this compelling story will continue to get more and more juicy!

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  SAVOR THE SEDUCTION

  Laura Wright

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Laura Wright for her contribution to the DYNASTIES: THE ASHTONS series.

  This book is dedicated to all of the Ashton Ladies. You are the

  best. And to MJ, for giving me this opportunity in the first place.

  Books by Laura Wright

  Silhouette Desire

  Cinderella & the Playboy #1451

  Hearts Are Wild #1469

  Baby and the Beast #1482

  Charming the Prince #1492

  Sleeping with Beauty #1510

  Ruling Passions #1536

  Locked Up with a Lawman #1553

  Redwolf’s Woman #1582

  A Bed of Sand #1607

  The Sultan’s Bed #1661

  Her Royal Bed #1674

  Savor the Seduction #1687

  LAURA WRIGHT

  has spent most of her life immersed in the world of acting, singing and competitive ballroom dancing. But when she started writing romance, she knew she’d found the true desire of her heart! Although born and raised in Minneapolis, Laura has also lived in New York City, Milwaukee and Columbus, Ohio. Currently, she is happy to have set down her bags and made Los Angeles her home. And a blissful home it is—one that she shares with her theatrical production manager husband, Daniel, and three spoiled dogs. During those few hours of downtime from her beloved writing, Laura enjoys going to art galleries and movies, cooking for her hubby, walking in the woods, lazing around lakes, puttering in the kitchen and frolicking with her animals. Laura would love to hear from you. You can write to her at P.O. Box 5811, Sherman Oaks, CA 91413 or e-mail her at [email protected].

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  On the eighteenth floor of the Ashton-Lattimer building located in San Francisco’s Financial District—in a very spacious, though sparsely furnished executive office—sat a silver-haired man with green eyes and a lean, athletic build that was revealed spectacularly well in one of his many custom-made Italian wool suits.

  As always, he sat behind the Andies Grey marble desk he’d had specially made five years ago, the fingers on his right hand drumming meditatively beside the phone as if he were eagerly awaiting his next call, while the fingers on his left hand caressed his chin.

  It was nine-thirty in the morning, and he should’ve been working. But his foolish secretary had allowed an unwelcome visitor inside his inner sanctum. His mouth slipped into a frown. He did not want her here, and it irritated him beyond measure to have the control he so frequently enjoyed stripped from him.

  But it would return, he assured himself.

  And soon.

  “Spencer, we need to talk.”

  Contempt snaked through his blood as Alyssa Sheridan ran a hand over her flat belly. Dressed in plain virginal-white, her long auburn hair pinned back in a bun, she looked the part of a disadvantaged woman. Her large brown eyes were liquid with tears as she gazed at him. At one time, he’d thought she was beautiful. Now, even in her prim attire, she looked used.

  His lips twisted into a cynical smile as he leaned back in his black leather armchair. “What is it you think those crocodile tears will get you, Alyssa?”

  She stopped biting the inside of her cheek and released a breath. “All I want is for you to be a father to this child.”

  “I have enough children.”

  “Surely you have room in your heart for one more.”

  “I have no heart,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Spencer, please—”

  “I am Mr. Ashton here,” he cut her off with a sneer, then eyed her belly. “How do I know that it’s my child you’re carrying?”

  A muscle quivered in her jaw. “Of course it’s your child.” She shook her head. “I haven’t been with anyone else.”

  “So you say. You fell into my bed easily enough.”

  She made a slow, sallow sound, like a whimper. “I don’t understand this.”

  “What is it you don’t understand?”

  “Where’s the man I knew? The man I thought cared about me, wanted to take care of me—the man I fell in—”

  “Stop right there.” He leaned forward, whispered menacingly, “Let’s not mistake a few nights of sex for anything more than the minor distraction that it was, shall we?”

  She went white as the walls. For a long moment she said nothing, then she lifted her chin a fraction and said softly, “What about your wife? Maybe she’d like to know about your little…” Tears pricked her eyes once more. “Distraction.”

  He chuckled sardonically. “How clever of you to think of that, but alas, my wife is fully aware that I dip my pen in a few other inkpots from time to time.”

  “And she’s supportive of that kind of behavior, is she?”

  He stiffened with arrogance at the question. “Let’s just say, she can’t do anything about it. No one controls me.” He raised one sharp eyebrow. “No one.”

  Tears fell onto her cheeks, but all that concerned Spencer was where they would fall next. If she leaned forward, even an inch, his desk would be directly below her chin, and salt could be tricky on marble.

  “If there’s nothing else…” he began hastily.

  “Just this.” She swiped at her eyes. “You’re a bastard, Spencer Ashton.”

  He snorted. “Perhaps I am, but if you don’t get rid of that—” he gestured to her belly “—you’ll be caring for your own little bastard soon enough, and with absolutely no help from me.”

  Her hands flew to her stomach as if to protect the life growing there from his words.

  “Goodbye, Alyssa,” he said casually, his gaze returning to the files on his desk. “And if you try to break into my office again I’ll have you arrested.”

  He didn’t look up until he heard the door slam. But when he did, he smiled.

  One

  Red curls, large green eyes and a smile to make you weak.

  “Love you, Mama.”

  And then there was that, Anna Sheridan mused, her heart melting as she opened her arms to her boy.

  Her boy.

  She’d gotten entirely too used to calling him that. True enough, he wasn’t her son. He was her nephew, her sister Alyssa’s child. But her sister’s death, and the baby’s father’s lack of interest, had forced A
nna and Jack together—had tragically, though wonderfully, made them mother and child from the first day of his life.

  Of course, Jack was too little to understand the truth behind their relationship, but Anna knew that someday she would have to tell him. Right now, she thought as he came flying at her, pouncing on her with one of his all-encompassing, orange-Popsicle-flavored kisses, she was just going to protect him, love him and mother him the best way she knew how.

  Anna glanced heavenward. Alyssa was watching over them both, making sure Anna was giving Jack the life he deserved. It was only right. Regardless of her indiscretions, weaknesses and faults, Alyssa was a good person at heart, and she would’ve wanted only the best for her child. No doubt she had expectations of Anna, and Anna would meet them, gladly, happily. After all, she’d always managed to follow others’ expectations of her. A lifetime of expectations.

  But, of course, with Jack, being the best she could be was a pure pleasure.

  “Run, Mama?” Jack asked her hopefully, his eyes wide and full of excitement.

  Anna smiled. There was nothing Jack loved more than running, except maybe pizza, and he was awfully lucky to have such an amazing expanse of space to indulge in that love. Well, maybe not lucky. For Anna and Jack, it had been a necessity for them to come and stay at the Vines. After the media had gotten wind of who Jack’s father was, they hadn’t let up on Anna. They wanted their questions answered and had gone to ridiculous lengths to gain an interview.

  And then there had been the threats.

  Anna shivered. Thank goodness for Caroline and Lucas. They had been truly wonderful, amazingly generous—as had Jack’s half brothers and sisters. Everyone at Louret Vineyards had showered Anna with support, while making sure Jack had a ton of attention.

  Anna and Jack hadn’t been staying there for too terribly long yet, but already her sweet toddler was completely at home at the Vines. His mother, on the other hand, had never felt so unsure of herself, and had never felt so beholden in her life.

  From her spot on the blue woolly blanket underneath a beautiful oak, Anna gazed out over the rolling hills of Louret Vineyards, the amazing French-style home, the small lake and stables, and the lush sixty-five acres of vines. Growing up the way she and Alyssa had, in a one-bedroom apartment with cheese sandwiches for both breakfast and dinner, she could never have imagined that a world like this existed. And, unlike her sister, had never sought it out. All she’d wanted to do was better. And thankfully, through education, through her beloved teaching, she had.

  “Run, Mama? Run,” Jack repeated.

  “I’m sorry, love. Mama’s a little under the weather today.” Anna hated to deny him anything, but she just wasn’t herself today. Her stomach had been churning since breakfast, and she felt really exhausted. “But I have a ball. I can throw it and you can run and get it and bring it back to me.”

  This seemed to appease him, and he chanted, “Ball, ball, ball,” until she finally tossed it over the grass.

  Jack sure did love it here. Surrounded by space and wildlife and more family than he could count. It wasn’t going to be easy for him to leave when Spencer’s murder was finally resolved, to return to their cramped apartment in the city.

  She paused, her heart squeezing. It wasn’t going to be easy for her to leave, either. True, she wasn’t as at home here as Jack, but there was something—someone she would miss very dearly.

  Despite the crisp November day, heat moved through her body, and she wondered if the cause was the coming fever or the thought of the man who dwelled in her thoughts 24/7. She glanced past Jack and swallowed tightly. The man who was walking toward her at this very moment. The tall, self-possessed man with a crop of dark brown hair and hooded green eyes—the man who made her forget her name with just one touch.

  Her heart dropped piteously into her weak stomach and continued to sit there and pound away. Dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a blue-flannel shirt he looked slightly out of place in the fancy vineyard landscape. But the supreme confidence that hummed from him stated differently. This man belonged wherever he wished. On this vineyard, driving cattle, driving a tractor or making love to a woman who adored him.

  Yes, Grant Ashton looked impervious now, as he picked up Jack and tossed him in the air, but it wasn’t always so. Just a few months ago, he’d been locked up in a San Francisco jail, his freedom revoked. Both he and Anna had wondered if he’d ever see daylight again. His confidence had surely waned during that precarious time, and Anna had felt his pain and fear in her soul. That’s why, despite his command that she keep their night of passion a secret, she’d told the police exactly where Grant had been the night of Spencer Ashton’s murder.

  In her bed.

  Grant handed the ball back to Jack and headed over to Anna. Despite her aches and waves of weakness, she longed to jump up and run at him, wrap her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. But she remained where she was. Over the past few days, she’d been avoiding him. Not because she didn’t want to be with him. But over the last several weeks, as time passed and her feelings grew stronger, she’d realized that she needed to start protecting herself. When he left California for his home in Nebraska, her heart was going to bleed.

  The thing was, they’d gotten too close, too fast. Making love to him, curling herself up in his arms, talking about nonsense and matters of importance to them both had become addictive. So when that dreadful, unavoidable day did come, she didn’t want to hate him for leaving, hate herself for allowing things to go even further, having expectations of a future that he’d never offered. A future he couldn’t even think about right now with Spencer Ashton’s murder still in the forefront of his mind, life and soul.

  A bout of exhaustion came over her, adding more weight to her already queasy stomach. “Jack, hun, we should get going soon. It’s almost time for your nap.”

  “Bird, Mama. Birdie,” Jack squealed, pointing to a tree branch, completely ignoring her suggestion.

  “I see it, baby. It’s blue, right?”

  “Blue, blue.”

  “Yes, baby.”

  “Gwant, Gwant, Gwant,” shouted Jack, now pointing at the man in front of her.

  “Yes, baby,” she said, staring up into eyes that she’d seen tender, hot, unsure and humor-filled, but never as they were right now—irritated.

  As Jack went to inspect the birdie in the tree, crunching over brittle brown leaves, Anna mustered up a friendly, noncommittal smile. “Hey, Grant.”

  But he didn’t return the easy welcome. He wasn’t a man to mess around. He got to the point whether you wanted to go there or not. “Are you avoiding me?”

  “No,” she lied.

  “No?”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  “Not exactly?” He hunkered down next to her, and as they talked they watched Jack play with his ball. “C’mon, Anna. You know I don’t like games.”

  “This isn’t a game.”

  “Then what is it? What’s going on?”

  With an enormous exhale, she flipped up her hands. She wasn’t all that good at small talk and avoidance, either. “I wanted to give you some space, that’s all.”

  “Space for what?” he asked darkly.

  “To work out your feelings regarding your family, and the situation surrounding your father’s—”

  “Please don’t call him that,” Grant muttered tightly.

  “Sorry. I just thought you might need some breathing room.”

  “Well, I don’t. And I don’t have any feelings to work out, either.”

  She sniffed. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Why? Because I’m still hanging around Napa?”

  “For starters.”

  “Dammit, Anna. You know I can’t go until Spencer’s murder is solved. The cops won’t let me and I won’t let myself.”

  She despised the severe dip in her heart at the main reason he remained at the Vines. Of course he wasn’t staying for her. She had to get a grip and realize they were on
ly having an affair—and a short-lived one at that. “I’ve got to go,” she said, her head feeling suddenly heavy as a rush of chills raced up her spine.

  Grant studied her. “You look a little gray.”

  “Thanks,” she said, coming to her feet, zipping her sweater all the way up to her chin.

  He stood quickly and helped her. “Are you sick?”

  “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  He looked as though he didn’t believe her, looked as though he knew her better than that. “I need to see you later.”

  The chills were coming in daunting waves now. She needed to lie down. “What for?”

  “Do I really need a reason, Anna?”

  His green eyes moved over her face—not in a sexual way—but in a restless, desperate way.

  “Listen, Grant,” she began, her patience, her pride and her thin veil of self-preservation dropping away as all her energy went to combat her chills and rocky stomach. “For a while, I was willing to be that soft place for you to fall. But my feelings for you are getting stronger and…well, I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Spinning my wheels. You know how I feel about you. I’m plain as day when it comes to that.”

  “Anna…”

  “I know you have a huge weight on your shoulders right now. The last thing you can think about is where a relationship is going. But I can’t help thinking of it. I’m a woman who wants a future for me and my son, and you’re…not…” What? Ready? A man in love?

  He held her shoulders gently. “I’m sorry, Anna. I wish I could give you what you need—what you deserve.” He shook his head. “God knows I do, but right now—”

  “You don’t need to say it—and honestly, I don’t need to hear it.”