The Prodigal Son

She clasped her hands together in front of her. “I realize that each of you may have to give something up in order to take over the Diamond Dust, and I’m sorry for that. I truly am. But there would never be a perfect time for this, and with Lester’s offer on the table…” She shrugged, as if his career, his reputation and everything he’d worked for since leaving Jewell ten years ago meant less than nothing. “I can’t afford to wait.”

“You’re bluffing,” he said softly, watching her reaction carefully. Her expression didn’t change. “There’s no way you’d ever sell the winery—not to mention our home and the Sheppard legacy—to strangers just to force me back to the Diamond Dust.”

“I’d think you would have learned one thing by now, Matthew.” She drew herself up to her full height—and though he had at least eight inches on her, it still seemed as if she was peering down her nose at him. “I never bluff.” She brushed past him only to stop and glance over her shoulder. “I’ll expect your answer by 5:00 p.m. Tonight.”

“MOMMY, SHE WON’T GIVE my Barbie back!”

Standing on the stoop of the two-story brick home that had been converted into offices for the Diamond Dust, Connie Henkel winced at her younger daughter’s whining. Honestly, it was enough to make a person’s ears bleed.

She glanced around to make sure no one else had suffered permanent hearing damage. Thankfully, they were alone. No cars were parked in front of the office building or the Sheppards’ large, plantation-style home, which sat just over a hundred yards away. The surrounding blocks of vineyard were set against a backdrop of rolling hills, bare except for clusters of dull green pine trees.

Her vines weren’t green. Dormant, conserving energy throughout the cold winter months, they were brown and straggly, their crooked, frost-covered, entwined limbs reaching for the sun. Soon they would come back to life. It was up to her and her workers to make sure they thrived.

And she was damn good at her job.

Shifting the folder she held to her other hand, she turned the doorknob, frowning to find it locked. That was weird. Brady usually beat her to work. And more importantly, started the coffee. And if ever there was a morning when she could use the extra kick of caffeine, today was it. After unlocking the door, she stood aside to let her two daughters into the small entryway. Neither one of them moved.

Abby, the brim of her lavender fleece hat pulled down to her eyebrows, stomped her foot. “Mommy!”

Right. Barbie doll kidnapping. Major crisis. Intervention needed from Supermom.

She was on it.

“Payton, give your sister her doll,” Connie said. See? She really was Supermom. How else could she have spoken with such restraint, such remarkable calm, if not for her super powers? After all, a mere mortal would’ve lost her patience by now, considering this was the fifth argument between her two daughters this morning. And it wasn’t even 9:00 a.m.

God help her. She didn’t think she’d make it to ten o’clock without yanking her own hair out.

Eight-year-old Payton swept past her with all the dignity of a four-foot-tall queen, the doll clutched in her gloved hand. “But I still have five minutes left. I let her listen to my iPod for fifteen minutes. So that’s how long I get her Barbie.”

“But I want her back now,” Abby wailed, her gray eyes filling with tears.

“Yeah?” Connie asked. “Well, I want you to come inside so I can close the door.”

“But, Mom—”

“Now.”

Funny. As soon as she’d become a mother, she’d been able to inject a wealth of meaning into one tiny word. Abby, being no dummy, heard the implied threat of loss of privileges if she didn’t obey and scurried inside.

Connie shut the door then crouched so she was eye to eye with her unhappy daughter. “Sorry, kid, but a deal’s a deal. You’ll get Barbie back in a few minutes. Until then, you’re just going to have to be patient.”

Abby’s face scrunched up as if this development was a fate worse than the Disney Channel being removed from their cable company’s lineup. Her head hanging, her toy-filled backpack dragging on the floor, she trudged down the dark hall toward Connie’s office. Payton, smug in her victory, swung poor Barbie by her hair as she followed.

Connie hung her heavy work coat on the antique rack in the corner. Tucking the folder under her arm, she passed Brady’s empty office and a small half bath, then entered the narrow kitchen and got a Diet Coke out of the refrigerator.

The building was over a hundred years old with dark, ornate woodwork, wide-planked floors and high ceilings. While the first floor was converted into office space, the second had been kept as bedrooms for seasonal workers who needed a place to stay. Since the winery was nearing the end of its off-season, the bedrooms were currently empty, but within a matter of weeks she planned on hiring at least half a dozen workers to help plant new vines.

Popping the tab on the can, she took a drink as she made her way to her office at the back of the building. No sooner did she step into the room than Abby flounced onto the brick-red sofa, her long, dark brown ponytail swinging with the momentum. She sent Connie a defiant look and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

Connie shut her eyes. That was it. Her next husband was going to be an orthodontist. It was the only way she’d ever be able to pay to have Abby’s bite corrected. Too bad the only orthodontist in town was sixty years old. And a woman.

Taking another sip of her soda so she wouldn’t snap at her daughter about her thumb-sucking, she set the folder on the glossy surface of her maple desk and sat back in her leather, ergonomic chair. Diane Sheppard had decorated Connie’s office. The cream-colored bead-board below chocolate walls, hardwood floor and built-in bookcases gave the room warmth and charm.

“I’m bored,” Payton grumbled.

“The two most dreaded words on the planet,” Connie murmured as she turned on her laptop. “How will you ever survive?”

Payton tossed the doll over to her sister, who clutched it to her chest as if Barbie had just returned from war. “Mom, I’m serious.”

“Payton,” Connie said, mimicking her daughter’s exasperated tone, “so am I. Read your book.”

“I don’t feel like reading,” she said, glancing derisively at the copy of The Lightning Thief next to her.

“Then maybe you should’ve brought something else to keep you occupied.”

“If we could’ve brought the dollhouse, I wouldn’t be bored,” she muttered.

Right. Lug the three-foot-tall, sixteen-room monstrosity—complete with furnishings—across town? “Yeah, well, that didn’t happen, did it?”

“Daddy would’ve let me.”

At her daughter’s challenging tone, Connie jabbed the delete key, ridding herself of an email touting the secret to getting a larger penis. “I’m sure he would have. But he’s not here. I am.”

Paul, her ex-husband, felt so guilty about not being able to see the girls as often as he’d like that he and his too-good-to-be-true second wife, Sarah, let them do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Every time Payton and Abby came back from their once-a-month weekend visits with their father, it took Connie almost a week to deprogram them from acting like mini prima donnas.

The front door opened and shut. “Hello?” a familiar voice called. “Anyone here?”

“In my office,” Connie said, sliding the folder she’d set on her desk into the top drawer. Yeah, it was stupid to feel nervous or, worse, embarrassed by the information she’d put together, but she felt both just the same.

“I thought I saw your car pull in,” Diane Sheppard said from the doorway, her chin-length hair windblown and her cheeks pink from the walk across the yard. “What’s this? No school today?”

Abby scrambled off the couch and wrapped her arm around Diane’s leg. “Nuh-uh. It’s President’s Day.”

“And you get the day off?” Diane asked, as if President’s Day was some new and exciting development. “Since it honors two very important men, we should celebrate it, don’t you think?”

“Like a party?” Payton asked.

“Exactly like a party. Why don’t we go over to the house and make plans over some hot cocoa?” Keeping a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders, she smiled at Connie. “You don’t mind if I steal them for a little bit, do you?”

Mind? She had to stop herself from begging Diane to do just that. She had pruning to start, a job that could take her small crew of three anywhere from a few weeks to an entire month. Plus, she had to go over the results of the soil sample she’d sent out last week for the new block of land she wanted to plant this spring.

Abby clapped her hands. “Can we, Mommy?”

“Please?” Payton added, pushing her glasses back with one finger.

“You two have been at each other’s throats all morning,” Connie was forced to point out. After all, the girls weren’t Diane’s responsibility. No matter how much work Connie had to do. “I couldn’t, in good conscience, subject Diane to your whining and fighting.”

“We won’t fight,” Payton said, and then she pulled Abby into a hug.

Abby nodded vigorously, her head bumping Payton’s chin. “See? We’re best friends again.”

“It’s a President’s Day miracle,” Connie murmured.

“I raised three boys,” Diane said. “I think I can handle a little bit of whining and fighting. Besides, if we’re going to throw an impromptu party, I’ll need their help.”

“You need help planning a party like the Pope needs help praying.” Connie crossed her arms and realized her burgundy scarf was still wrapped around her neck. Unwinding it, she narrowed her eyes at her boss. “You know, it is possible for the girls to keep themselves occupied while I’m here. You don’t have to entertain them every time I bring them with me to work.”

“I realize that,” Diane said with a wave of her fingers, as if she didn’t find some excuse to take the girls off Connie’s hands whenever she could.

The sunlight filtering through the picture window caught on Diane’s new engagement ring, making the large, square-cut diamond sparkle. Even though she wore the ring of another man, a man she planned to marry in a few short months, Diane hadn’t removed the wedding band and engagement ring from her first husband. She’d just shifted them to her right hand.

Connie rubbed the pad of her thumb against the base of her ring finger. She hadn’t felt anything when she’d taken her wedding ring off four years ago. Well, except relief. She’d wanted to feel more. Sadness. Loss. Anger. Even a sense of failure would’ve sufficed. Instead, she’d remained numb.

Maybe she really was as cold and unfeeling as Paul had accused her of being.

“Please, Mommy,” Payton repeated. “We’ll be really good.”

“And we’ll help Diane a whole lot,” Abby piped in.

“Okay, okay. Stop with the begging already. You can go. Stay as long as Diane wants you, but you—” she pointed at Diane “—need to promise me you’ll send them right back here if they misbehave.”

Diane adjusted the barrette in Payton’s wavy, light brown hair. “Of course.”

Connie rolled her eyes. The only way her kids would be sent back was if they set the kitchen on fire. And even that wasn’t a guarantee.

“Come on, girls.” Diane zipped up Abby’s coat even though she was more than capable of doing it on her own. “We have lots of work if we’re having a party today.”

When they were gone, Connie swiveled in her chair to watch them through the window as they crossed the brown grass toward the house. Abby held Diane’s hand while Payton skipped ahead. Aidan’s Irish setter, Lily, bounded out of the woods, joining the group.

It was a picture-perfect scene, one straight out of a hokey holiday commercial. Like they were all one big happy family.

Which they were. Sort of. They belonged here, she and her girls. And there was one way to make it permanent.

Her stomach rolling, she tugged open the top drawer and pulled out the folder with the plan she’d outlined showing Aidan why they should partner up and take over the Diamond Dust.

It was a crazy idea but one she hadn’t been able to shake since Christmas Eve when Diane got engaged and mentioned that she wanted to retire in the near future. And when that happened, who better to take over than Connie and Aidan? They were the ones who’d been with the winery ever since Tom got sick. Who loved it as much as he had.

Nerves and excitement dancing in her stomach, Connie pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Aidan’s number before she changed her mind.

When he picked up after two rings, she cleared her throat. “Hey, it’s me,” she said. “Do you have any free time this morning? I need to talk to you about something important.”

CHAPTER THREE

STILL FUMING OVER HIS conversation with his mother, Matt walked into Aidan’s office only to skid to a stop as if he was a dog and had reached the end of his leash. “What is this, the Tom Sheppard shrine?”

Sitting behind their father’s enormous desk, Aidan didn’t even look up. “I’m working.”

Matt shook his head as he slowly took in the large room. A room he’d managed to avoid since his father’s death.

But why did it look exactly as it had when Tom was still alive? Same dark colors, oppressive furniture and—he narrowed his eyes—was that…yeah…same ugly bronze frog on the bottom shelf of the built-in bookcase.

“I hate this room,” he muttered.

“How can you hate a room?” Aidan asked as he continued to work on a financial report or inventory sheet or some such mind-numbingly boring item.

“If I ever end up behind that desk, do me a favor and just shoot me.”

He did hate this room. Not just the decorating, although if he ever got stuck playing desk jockey, he wanted a space that was all his. Not someone else’s leftovers. No, what he really hated about his father’s office was that stepping into the room was like stepping back in time. He couldn’t count the number of times his father had called him in here only to rip him up one side and down the other. Hell, he’d spent most of his teenage years slouched in the leather chair across from the desk, forced to listen to his old man lecture about responsibility, making good choices and the importance of doing his best no matter what the situation.

All important lessons, Matt acknowledged grudgingly. And ones he deserved to hear, just as he probably deserved most of the punishments his father had doled out in response to his youngest son’s wild ways.

Then again, maybe if Tom hadn’t been such a hard-ass, Matt wouldn’t have rebelled so much.

Aidan finally set his mechanical pencil down. “Don’t tell me, you hate that chair, too.” When Matt raised an eyebrow, Aidan continued, “You look like you’re ready to rip it apart with your teeth.”

That was why he’d avoided this room ever since his dad died. It was too full of memories. And memories only caused problems. Better to focus on the present. And the current hell he was living through.

“We need to discuss this…situation we’re in,” Matt said, keeping his tone neutral.

“I take it you’re referring to our conversation earlier, the one that caused you to take off like the devil himself was riding your ass.”

He’d rather deal with the devil. Old Satan had nothing on Aidan Sheppard. “I needed some fresh air. Time to clear my head. I went back to the cottage but you’d already left.”

Aidan leaned back in his chair. “Once again, I’m working. Some of us can’t get by logging in twenty hours a week then heading off to climb some mountain or jump off a cliff.”

He wished his brother would jump off a cliff. Preferably without a bungee cord. So what if he took time off now and again? Life was an adventure. One he planned on getting the most out of.

Matt shoved his hands into his pockets and walked to the window to stare out over the backyard. But that didn’t mean he didn’t take his jobs seriously. His family had no idea what his life was really like. Up at 4:00 a.m., logging up to eighty hours a week in order to help the wineries who hired him produce the best wines possible.

“I realize your time is valuable—more so than that of us mere working stiffs,” Matt said, “but I’d think you could spare a few minutes to discuss the future of the Diamond Dust.” He faced his brother, leaning back against the wall. “What’s Mom trying to prove?”

“You’d have to ask her.”

“I did. She admitted she’s doing this for Dad. I bet he put some stipulation in his will so this would happen.” Matt wouldn’t put it past the old man. Even dead he was trying to run Matt’s life.

“He didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I, unlike you or Brady, was actually there for the reading of Dad’s will,” Aidan said. “Trust me, this is all Mom’s idea.”

Matt fisted his hands. The betrayal was like a punch to the chest. Why would she do this to him? They’d always been close. She’d been the one person he could count on to see the real him. She’d known, better than anyone, how badly he’d wanted to escape Jewell. How he’d wanted nothing more than to go out and make something of himself. Something important.

He crossed to the leather sofa against the opposite wall. Guess her reasons didn’t really matter. Not when all he could do now was deal with this situation.

“So what’s it going to be?” Aidan asked.

Matt lay down, propping his feet on the armrest. “I need time to think it through.”

“We don’t have time. Mom wants our decision today.”

“Yeah, she told me. Eight hours to decide my entire future? How generous.”

“Suck it up. Some of us only got five minutes.”

True. Aidan had to drop out of law school and move back to Jewell to take over the Diamond Dust when their father passed away. And Brady’s plans had been altered when he’d lost his fiancée to some other guy and his career to an injury sustained in Afghanistan. Both Aidan’s and Brady’s futures had taken turns neither had expected, but that didn’t make the possible annihilation of his own plans any easier to swallow. Especially since they both seemed to be doing fine now.

“Well, since I do have eight hours, I’m going to take them. I’ll let you know my decision then.” Maybe he could talk his mother out of this insane idea before tonight. Or at least get her to agree to let him be a partner in name only. There had to be a way out of this.

His jet lag catching up to him, he linked his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes. It wasn’t much time and he had a lot to think about. Damn it, he had plans. Commitments. His reputation as a world-class vintner was growing—the proof was his contract with Queen’s Valley.

But as much as he didn’t want to be in Jewell, he also didn’t want to see his father’s business sold to some stranger.

More than that, he didn’t want to let his brothers down.

And he’d French-kiss Aidan’s dog before he admitted that out loud.

He yawned. His brothers might think he slid by in life, but the truth was, he’d busted his ass building his reputation as a winemaker. He wasn’t afraid of hard work, and along the way he’d learned from some of the best experts in the world how to run a winery.

He just didn’t want to use that knowledge to run the Diamond Dust.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Matt’s eyes flew open at the husky feminine voice. Too bad he wasn’t the one being propositioned. Which was probably a good thing, he realized, as Connie Henkel walked past him without so much as a glance.

She was long and lean with sharp features, and her dark hair was cut shorter than his, with messy layers on top and wisps around her ears. She didn’t wear jewelry or makeup, and in her usual uniform of faded jeans and a T-shirt, if you didn’t take the time to look carefully, she could’ve passed for a teenage boy.

One side of his mouth kicked up. Luckily, Matt always looked carefully. So he noticed the subtle curve of her hips, the slight rise and fall of her small breasts, the feminine arch of her dark brows.

He noticed, he just didn’t linger.

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered,” Aidan said, “or terrified.”

Connie winced. “First of all…eww. You’re like the brother I never had and never particularly wanted. And second of all, if you were that lucky, you wouldn’t be terrified. You’d be grateful.”

Quietly sitting up, Matt couldn’t help but grin. He’d always enjoyed Connie’s smart-ass ways. “I’d sure begrateful if it was me.” He winked at her. “And believe me, so would you.”

Connie didn’t move. Her face was white, her mouth open. Hell, she didn’t even blink.

It was that blank stare and the fact that he’d known Connie since he was twelve and he’d never seen her stay still for more than a few seconds that had Matt standing and walking toward her. “You okay?” he asked. “You’re not having some sort of seizure or anything, are you?”

And just like that, she snapped back to life. Before he could decipher the play of emotions across her face, she smiled, though it seemed forced.

“Hey. I didn’t know you were in town.” She stepped forward as if to give him a hug, only to tuck her hands, and the bright purple folder she held, behind her back.

“Got in Saturday night,” he said, leaning against Aidan’s desk, his hip hitting a pile of papers and causing them to slide. He could’ve sworn he heard Aidan muttering under his breath. Knowing it would drive his brother crazy, Matt slowly slid his gaze over Connie. “Did you miss me?”

“It was all I could do to get through each day,” she said somberly.

Even with the weight of his pending decision on his chest, making it difficult to take a full breath, he couldn’t help but enjoy her. “What say we leave Aidan to his paperwork and go catch up over a cup of coffee?”

What better way to pretend his entire future wasn’t on the line than with the distraction of a smart, funny, attractive woman?

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Aidan said before Connie could respond. “Besides, Connie has something she wants to discuss with me, so why don’t—”

“No,” she blurted, her cheeks turning pink when he and Aidan stared at her. Taking a step back, she cleared her throat. “I mean…that…that was nothing. The thing I wanted to discuss. It can wait.”

“Are you sure?” Aidan asked.

“Believe me, I’m positive. I don’t want to interrupt your discussion so I’ll just go.”

And she turned and walked out.

“How do you do that?” Aidan asked.

Matt watched Connie’s backside as she walked away. “Do what?”

“Flirt with my vineyard manager when I know what you really want is to rip someone’s head off.”

Straightening, he shrugged, making sure the gesture seemed casual despite the tightness in his shoulders. “None of this is Connie’s fault,” he said, heading back to the sofa. “Why take it out on her?”

Never let them see you sweat.

He lay down again and closed his eyes, shutting out the searching look Aidan was giving him. His brother’s unspoken questions. Matt knew what his family thought of him. How they perceived him. To them he was just a charming playboy—albeit one with a small amount of talent. Talent he used when he wasn’t busy white-water rafting, mountain climbing or seducing women.

All he did was give them what they wanted to see.

COWARD.

Connie slowly descended the stairs, the folder with her proposal bent in her clenched hand. So she’d chickened out. Who could blame her? She could hardly be expected to pitch a business deal to Aidan while Matt flirted with her.

Not that she took him seriously. He flirted with every female regardless of her looks or age. But him being there had thrown her.

And made her lose her nerve.

Crap.

It was probably for the best. This way she could take a few more days, look over her proposal. Make sure it was as good as it needed to be to convince Aidan to take her on as a partner.

As if tweaking the damn thing for the past eight weeks wasn’t enough.

She sighed. Yeah, she really was a coward.