Lovers' Lies
Authors: Shirley Wine
| Lovers' Lies | |
| Shirley Wine | |
| Shirley Wine (2012) | |
| Rating: | ***** |
For single mum, Victoria Scanlan, a visit to the luxurious country house of Darkhaven, is a rare chance to combine work with pleasure. If she can secure the commission for the flowers for the upcoming society wedding it would be a huge boost for her floral boutique.
Arriving at Darkhaven, Victoria is stunned to discover the groom, banking tycoon Keir Donovan, is the man she knew as Seth Donahue, her young son's father.
Wealthy and powerful, Keir, after a lifetime of being betrayed by every female in his life, has settled on a calm future with the glamorous Davina Strathmore, heiress of media mogul James Strathmore. Davina, Keir's fiancée, has her own devious reasons for accepting his offer of marriage and Victoria threatens her plans.
Victoria knows she has to tell Keir about their son, but decides to wait until they're no longer visitors in the Donovan family home, a decision she quickly comes to regret.
Too late, she realises she's made a mistake and it's too late to go back and start over.
A lie by omission is still a lie, and after a lifetime of being lied to, Keir's has no tolerance for lies...
The attraction between her and Keir re-ignites and flares brightly, and Victoria quickly discovers that by not being up front with Keir about their son, she's woven a tangled web of deceit.
And when the inevitable happens, and they succumb to a passion neither can deny, Victoria realises by not telling Keir about his son...she's given him good reason to suspect her every action...
Lovers' Lies
By
Shirley Wine
For more information on this author visit
Lovers' Lies
Copyright© 2012 by Shirley Wine
Publisher: Shirley Wine 2012
Cover Design
Copyright 2012©Philip Pearson
Photo from Dreamstimes
ISBNKindle:978-0-473-22449-3
ISBN
PDF:
978-0-473-22418-9
ISBN ePub:
978-0-473-22448-6
All rights reserved
. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning to a computer disc, or by any other informational storage and retrieval system without express permission in writing from the author and publisher. This work is protected under the statutes of the copyright act.
Disclaimer
The characters and events in this book are the creation of the author, and resemblance to persons, whether living or dead, is strictly coincidental. Towns and places are used as settings and have no relation to any event or actual happening outside the author’s imagination.
Dedication
This one is for my late father, Jim Molony.
You taught me to dream, to reach for the stars, to have faith in myself, and that to err is human, to forgive divine. It's been a tough journey, Dad, but I've finally reached that goal.
I love and miss you so much.
Chapter One
V
ictoria Scanlan leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed, toes tapping in time to the rhythmic beat of an African quartet's jazzed up version of a classical tune that belted from the car's stereo system.
The subtle scent of leather, Logan's spicy cologne and the music drained the tension of her hectic day.
She'd closed her florist shop in Cambridge later than usual after a flurry of last minute customers. It seemed that everyone wanted flowers for Easter and left their purchase until almost closing time.
God, but she needed this break.
Four blissful days. No telephone. No demanding clients. No five-year-old to entertain. No housework or cooking.
"This sure as heck beats listening to Connor's music."
"No kidding." Logan tapped to the beat on the steering wheel. "I know you love that little tyke but don't you ever crave some real freedom, Tori? After five years of single parenting?"
Startled, she turned to look at him, frowning. "Freedom from Connor?"
"I didn't mean that exactly."
Eyes wide, Victoria jerked upright. What was Logan getting at? "Then what
exactly
did you mean?"
"You work too hard." His grin faded. "All day at
Victorian Grace
, come home to housework and being Connor's mum, and when he's in bed, you work on the shop's books. Where in this workload is
your
time?"
Victoria shrugged. "That's just the way it is?"
"What I'd like to know, where's Connor's father in all of this?" Logan glanced at her. "While you're working your tail off, what's he doing?"
Apprehension leached her relaxation. Why was Logan resurrecting this old argument now? "Connor's father is out of the picture, and may I remind you
Victorian Grace
provides a home and income for me and my son."
And gives me a very precious independence.
But nothing was more important to Victoria than her son. Nothing. And no one. Nor was her relationship with Connor's father up for discussion.
"It's not right."
Maybe, but that's the way the dice had rolled in her life. She glanced at his profile, but the dimness of the car made it difficult to discern his expression.
"Let it go, Logan. Don't make me regret accepting this invitation to spend the weekend with your family at Darkhaven."
"If you married me, you'd never need to work."
Victoria's hands clenched in her lap. Marriage to Logan would merely exchange one yoke for another.
She could never marry a man she didn't love.
"Logan, I value your friendship—"
"— but you don't love me. I know. You prefer to work like a slave. Even here, for a rare weekend of relaxation, you're bringing work."
Her misgivings over accepting this invitation escalated.
"Listen up, Logan Sinclair.
You
suggested I bring my portfolio. And
you
paved the way for me to make this presentation to your mother and the bride."
And Victoria was the first to admit, it
was
the chance of a lifetime.
If she could secure the commission for the flowers for the Donovan-Strathmore wedding it would be
such
a coup for
Victorian Grace.
Logan's stepbrother, Keir
Donovan, on his recent return from America had announced his engagement to Davina Strathmore, daughter of media mogul James Strathmore.
Their spring wedding promised to be the highlight of Cambridge's social season. And Victoria knew if she could secure a commission that size it would boost
Victorian Grace's
business and she could afford to employ an assistant.
Now, Logan's less than subtle complaints had her relaxation giving way to jitters.
The Donovans were
old money
and big landholders in New Zealand’s rich Waikato hinterland. Logan Sinclair and his stepfather, Caine Donovan, ran
Darkhaven, one of the most successful racing stables in Cambridge, their family, leaders among the fashionable society of the racing fraternity.
And Victoria sure as hell had never mingled in their elite social circle.
The car headlights outlined the imposing pillars of the entrance to Darkhaven.
As they drove up the wide, sweeping drive, the headlamps illuminated the ghostly shapes of shrubberies and flowerbeds. She strained to see, but only caught tantalizing glimpses.
Logan parked beneath the portico and came around to open her door. He had charming manners, was personable and attentive. So why couldn’t she fall in love with him? Lord knows he’d asked her to marry him more than once.
Because he has very big boots to fill, he’s not Seth.
Victoria shoved the old hurt back inside the closet of unfulfilled dreams, a closet damn near bursting at seams.
She stepped out of the car and took stock of her surroundings while Logan retrieved her suitcase from the trunk and gave the parking valet the keys.
Ground lights illuminated neatly trimmed box hedges and white flowered standard roses. Sweetly scented white nicotiana released an intoxicating perfume on the evening air.
Victoria inhaled appreciatively.
Logan carried her suitcase and they walked up the wide half-moon steps. She was far too aware of her heart's uncomfortably fast beat and bone dry mouth.
Victoria ran a trembling hand down the severely tailored skirt of her business suit. Was it the correct choice? Or should she have opted for something more casual?
The impressive oak door was opened by a short, rotund man, impeccably attired in a dark suit, white shirt and black bow tie. She released a soft relieved sigh; she'd made the right choice.
"Good evening, Wilkins, where’s the family?" Logan handed the man her suitcase.
"They've assembled in the Ruby Lounge."
Wilkins was exactly what she'd imagined a Victorian butler to be like. And as formal. He held out a hand for her satchel.
More than a little reluctant, she surrendered it. That satchel held her livelihood.
Wilkins placed both cases neatly beside an antique Buhl table topped with an elaborate floral arrangement. Victoria blinked, took a step closer and looked again—yes they were silk flowers. And that quickly her nerves settled.
The use of artificial flowers was so—well artificial.
"Which room has Mother given Victoria?"
Logan’s question pulled her attention from the flowers.
"She’s been allocated the Emerald Suite."
Logan stiffened and his pale, ice-blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "Is Mother afraid I’ll walk in the night?"
Wilkins carefully ignored Logan's question, turned on an immaculately shod heel, and preceded them down a wide corridor.
"What was all that about?" she asked in a whisper, too anxious to notice more than the blur of opulence.
"You're next door to the suite Keir uses on his rare visits here," he said in a biting murmur. "And that's as far from everyone as it's possible to get."
"How does this concern me?"
"Since returning from the States, my stepbrother has been as intimidating as all get out. Don’t let him get to you."
"I’m here to quote on flowers,
not
seduce you."
Logan flushed, his smile held more than a little edge of guilt.
She gripped his arm, fingers digging into hard muscle, halting him mid-stride. "What don’t I know, Logan?"
He turned on his most charming smile. "I told them you were much more than a friend, Tori."
"You had no right," she said in a furious undertone. "What about the flowers?"
A guilty flush spread up under his tan. "Hey, it’s only a weekend. And you know I want to move past being just friends."
And that swiftly, all her doubts about the wisdom of accepting this invitation to spend Easter weekend at Darkhaven, shrieked in unison.
