Dynasties Collection

He could see Erica huddled next to Gavin, one of his two younger brothers, her finger stabbing the air as she emphasized a point. And over to the right, beside the wine-tasting tent where an early-bird charity auction was already happening, his twin brother, Blake, was talking to—

The press of people opened for an instant, long enough for Guy to catch a tantalizing glimpse.

He blinked.

It couldn’t be.

The crowd shifted again.

It was.

His gaze homed in on an achingly familiar blond head and a petite curvy feminine body that should’ve been nine hundred miles away in California.

His twin bent courteously to hear what the blonde was saying, and Guy’s eyes narrowed dangerously when her slim hand pushed a pair of designer sunglasses to the top of her head. The action revealed the curve of a cheek he’d stroked with his fingertips under the cover of darkness, the corner of a lush, smiling mouth he’d kissed until all smiling had ceased and she’d moaned instead.

God, he remembered those moans….

Little mewing sounds that had clawed at his groin and made him go wild with hunger.

So what the hell was Avery Lancaster doing staring up at his twin in that intent fashion?

Without conscious thought, Guy began to move, long strides that ate up the ground. All too soon he was looming over the Barbie-blonde who barely reached his shoulder.

She must have sensed his approach. It took only one startled glance from those wide china-blue eyes for Guy to feel the imperceptible tightening of his skin, the rippling of the muscles below. A slight shudder quaked through him before he remembered to breathe and sucked in a lungful of air. Being this close to Avery had always made him feel invincible, like some kind of superhero.

Not anymore.

Yet, for once, Avery looked rattled, too. “Guy!”

In the month and a half—okay, so he’d kept count—forty-nine days—since he’d last seen her, Avery’s sorcery hadn’t diminished a whit. In her absence, Guy had half convinced himself he’d imagined it. No woman had that much power.

But standing beside her brought home that he hadn’t imagined a thing. A once-over showed that her composure was back—if indeed it had ever slipped. Avery looked like she’d stepped from the pages of a glossy magazine that would have every female reader rushing to buy the floral dress she wore. Her soft honey-gold skin tempted his touch. Only the blond tendrils that had escaped the restraining sunglasses broke the model-like perfection and made her look tousled—and very, very kissable.

“Avery,” he responded with just enough frost to cause Blake to raise an eyebrow.

“You two know each other?”

“Avery helped me review the wine list at Baratin.”

His glare dared her to contradict him. Avery’s gaze fell beneath the force of his—as he’d known it would. Traitor. It felt like a lifetime since the day she’d swept into his life with the force of a hurricane—and proved to be every bit as destructive. In reality little more than two months had passed since the day they’d met. Fourteen hours after that first meeting she’d been in his bed. The next day she’d moved out of the hotel where she’d been staying into his apartment. Two weeks later she’d been gone.

Yet instead of boasting about what a fabulous job she’d done at Baratin, Avery now turned her head away, presenting him with a smooth, flawlessly tanned cheek, and fixed her attention firmly back on Blake.

Over my dead body.

Guy’s lips tightened. She could forget about seducing his brother. One Jarrod would have to be enough.

Blake grinned. “I remember you mentioning employing a freelance sommelier—you didn’t tell me she was gorgeous.”

Avery hadn’t spared Guy another glance—he might as well have been invisible. And his normally brisk-and-businesslike twin hadn’t taken his eyes off Avery. Irritation spiked through Guy as a rosy flush spread over her cheeks.

Could she have faked that?

A dimple appeared beside her mouth, and a little husky laugh followed. “Flatterer,” she said to Blake, her polished fingertips fluttering like butterfly wings against his brother’s arm.

Guy started to frown.

She’d better damn well stop flirting with Blake or he’d drag her away and send her packing back to Napa Valley. He wasn’t having destruction follow in her wake as it had before.

He was onto Avery Lancaster.

She chose that moment to remove her hand from Blake’s arm and flick the bangs off her forehead. The crossover neckline of the dress printed with pink roses—without a warning thorn in sight—pulled tight. Guy’s lip curled. No magical illusion there, just plain feminine wiles, as old as Eve.

It infuriated Guy that even he wasn’t immune. Giving himself a mental shake, he forced his eyes away from temptation, only to discover his charismatic twin still assessing her with amused interest.

Damn.

“You two must be brothers.” The breathy voice that had once made him shiver with longing held a note of discovery.

Guy suppressed an annoyed growl as Blake instantly responded, “Guy is my twin.”

“I knew there was something familiar about you—”

“Fraternal twins,” Guy bit out, determined to make Avery stop examining Blake as if he was a juicy cut of filet mignon. “Not identical.”

The gaze that switched to meet his with startling directness was carefully blank. “Funny, I didn’t even know you had a brother, much less a twin,” she murmured. “Or that you were one of the Aspen Jarrods.”

Funny? They’d had an affair. Passionate. Explosive. Nothing remotely funny about it. Then she’d walked away. There’d been no obligation to bare his soul, dammit.

“Now you know—and, since you’re obviously interested, I have two more brothers as well.” Gavin and Trevor were every bit as eligible as Blake.

Despite the curve of her lips, her vivid blue eyes had dimmed, and held none of the sparkle he remembered. Only an unfamiliar wariness.

She should be worried.

Unless she was a fool. And, despite the sexy-Barbie exterior, Avery had never been dumb. In truth, the way it had played out he’d been the dumbass; she’d played him for the fool.

Guy snorted at how he’d fought a primal, gut-deep fear and tried to do romance. For her. How he’d planned the most romantic birthday gift he could dream up. An extravagant meal of all the foods he’d learned Avery loved. Shrimp tempura. A light salad with walnuts, blue cheese, pear and a hint of ginger. Cherries. Tiramisu. Baratin’s frenetic Friday night bustle had been replaced with the intimacy of soft candlelight. Twenty-seven white candles—to match her birthday—glowed around one solitary table, with all the other chairs and tables packed away.

Surrounded by the aroma of the fluffy rolls he’d baked himself and the fragrance of cut flowers in tall vases filling the air, Guy had waited.

And waited.

And while he waited, his heart more exposed than he’d ever allowed, Avery had been seducing Jeffrey Morse.

The big romantic gesture had cost Guy more than a night’s takings. It had cost him a week’s sleep and most of his self-respect. And nearly two months later his pride still smarted.

Of course, if Avery had known he was one of the Jarrods from Jarrod Ridge, Aspen, Guy doubted she would have switched her attentions to Jeff, his Go Green business partner, so readily—despite Jeff’s sizeable trust fund.

But the subject of his family had simply never come up. There hadn’t been time. They’d either been talking about wine and work—or tumbling into bed. And Guy was suddenly, savagely glad that she hadn’t known before he’d gotten a chance to discover exactly what she was.

Gold digger.

Well, there’d be no Jarrod gold for her here….

Forcing himself to ignore her considerable physical endowments, he speared her with a cold stare. “What are you doing at Jarrod Ridge?”

The instant he bit out the words Guy wished he’d kept his mouth shut. What the hell did he care why she was here? He despised her. It was obvious that she’d come to Jarrod Ridge to prospect for another wealthy fool at a festival renowned for attracting the rich and famous. Jeff had sent her packing once guilt at the way he’d betrayed a friend had set in. Guy knew he should be grateful for his own lucky escape, that he’d found out Avery was looking for nothing more than a wealthy man.

Except gratitude was not the emotion that filled him as Avery’s pink tongue slid across her pouty kiss-me-senseless bottom lip. In another woman the gesture might have suggested anxiety; in Avery it was pure feminine seduction. Her tongue retreated and Guy breathed again. Then her lush lips parted. Guy couldn’t have glanced away if there’d been a gun against his head. Right now all he cared about was sexy Avery and her provocative, pink mouth.

Clenching his fists at his sides, Guy swore a silent streak.

Poor Jeff hadn’t stood a chance.

And this time her wiles were clearly directed at his twin. Eyes narrowing, Guy leaned closer. If Blake was to be her next target, she’d miscalculated. Yet, as he opened his mouth to growl at her to back off, he caught a whiff of the sweet, intoxicating floral scent that was all she ever wore to bed. Hot blood rushed through his veins, pooling in his lower belly.

Ah, hell!

If only his body hated her, too.

With grim realism, Guy shut his mouth with a snap and decided it was just as well the resort was full to capacity. The crowds would make it easier for him to avoid her.

“Art sent me.”

“Art sent you?”

The question must have betrayed his dazed disorientation because Blake spoke from beside him, reminding Guy that he and Avery were not alone and that he’d asked Avery what she was doing here. “Avery is Art Lloyd’s niece—even though she doesn’t resemble him in the least.”

Avery flashed a quick smile at Blake, and Guy could’ve sworn the woman fluttered her eyelashes at his brother. Damn her.

“You’re Art’s niece?” Disbelief was certainly better than following through on the overwhelming impulse to shove her away from his brother.

“Uh-huh.” Avery nodded, and the wispy bangs shimmered with the lustre of gold in the sunshine. “I’m sure you’re aware he was scheduled to speak at the gala, but he’s ill. Flu on top of asthma and a weak chest. The doctor says he can’t possibly fly in that condition.”

He could’ve sworn he read apprehension in her wide, Barbie-blue eyes. Not that he blamed her. Even now, seven weeks after she’d run out on him, he wanted to shake her.

Instead he shoved his fists into his pockets and said, “I’m sorry to hear he’s ill. I like Art.”

He didn’t need to add that he detested her. Avery wasn’t stupid—if she didn’t see it in his face, she’d be able to draw that inference herself.

She inhaled sharply.

Guy couldn’t help himself, he looked down. The pink roses moved, her sweet floral scent surrounded him, and he could’ve sworn his world tilted, too.

From a distance he heard her say in that breathy, bedroom voice that drove him crazy, “Well, I’m here to speak in Art’s place.”

Hell!

Inside the snowy-white bower of the grand marquee the Friday night oyster-and-champagne cocktail party that launched the Food and Wine Gala each year was in full swing. Waitresses circulated with trays piled high with hors d’oevres, while dinner-jacketed waiters refilled tulip glasses that glinted in the light of the glittering crystal chandeliers overhead.

“Erica has outdone herself,” Guy said with grudging approval to Blake as he scanned the chattering crowd who’d paid top dollar for tickets to tonight’s event.

“It’s the food that’s got the crowd talking,” said Blake, “and that’s your domain.”

Guy inclined his head in acceptance of the compliment. “It helps that every available ticket was sold,” he pointed out. “The more people here tonight, the more media coverage the festival will get, and the more word-of-mouth buzz will spread.”

“She’s certainly better at public relations than we ever expected,” his twin conceded. “But I was always certain there wouldn’t be any tickets left over to give to the local business suppliers as Erica suggested.”

“The gesture would’ve won Jarrod Ridge plenty of local goodwill.” Guy had joined his twin in vetoing the suggestion when Erica had made it. Deep down Guy suspected he’d done it more because he resented his illegitimate half sister’s very existence, rather than for sound business reasons. It was a suspicion that made him decidedly uncomfortable, one that he was not yet ready to confront.

“Anyway it would’ve made the function too big—lost the exclusivity.” Blake sounded certain.

“We could’ve limited the number of speakers who gained complimentary entry.” Guy’s brooding gaze settled on the woman whose arrival earlier had turned his hard-won peace on its head. Avery didn’t look like she had a care in the world. But he would’ve breathed a lot easier without her here tonight.

“Dad always gave festival speakers free entry to the opening night cocktail party. Mom set the tradition.”

Blake’s point hammered the final nail in the coffin. And Guy resisted the urge to argue that none of them had done what Don Jarrod wanted in life. So why the reverence for his opinion now that he was dead?

But the night of the official opening of the Food and Wine Gala was certainly not the time for friction with his twin.

Particularly not with Avery nearby. A sideways jerk of her head warned him she’d seen them. Guy edged closer to his brother. He fully intended to save his twin from Avery’s irresistible advances tonight. And damn irresistible she was, too, in a dress the color of summer sunshine. Every time she moved diamond drop earrings sparkled through the pale gold feathers of her hair. Even in this celebrity-studded crowd she attracted attention.

After giving them a brief smile of greeting, Avery showed none of this morning’s interest in Blake. From the corner of his eye Guy watched her intercept a tall, well-built stranger. His mouth twisted as she flung her arms around the man and kissed him on the cheek, before stepping away with a beaming smile.

It certainly hadn’t taken her long to find company.

“Who’s the man beside Avery Lancaster?” he demanded. His twin knew everyone worth knowing. Blake’s networking skills and business acumen were unsurpassed.

“Looks familiar.” Blake frowned with concentration. He snapped his fingers. “Got it. A vintner. From California—I think. But I can’t recall his name.”

“Which winery is he with? Does he grow good grapes?” It seemed important to establish a flaw in the stranger who stood too close to Avery for Guy’s comfort.

Blake shook his head. “Can’t remember. It will come to me. Why the interest?”

Guy refused to admit that he was fishing. Whoever Avery’s quarry was, his highly polished Italian shoes and the avantgarde designer-label tuxedo he wore were a testimony to his wealth. It would be good to know that he had some weakness that could be exposed when needed. “Always good to know who’s making the best wines.”

“Information always gives us an edge over the competition,” agreed Blake.

At that moment Avery threw her head back and laughed at something the Californian said. Her earrings danced and her eyes sparkled.

Unexpectedly, anger ignited in Guy’s belly.

He swung away and told himself he should be relieved to be rid of a gold digger like Avery. So why the hell was he so damned annoyed? He’d always been easygoing about relationships, shrugging philosophically when they ended. And usually remaining friends with his former lovers.

But this time it was different.

Blake asked him something. He grunted his assent without any idea about what he’d agreed to. Then he told himself Avery had declared war by running out on him in New York without an explanation of why she’d seduced his business partner, his friend. He’d deserved to know. She might think it was over between them. But he wasn’t through with her yet.

Not by a long shot.

No one betrayed him, then ran out on him … and Avery was about to learn that.

When Erica joined him and Blake, Guy shifted to get a clear view of Avery again as she accepted a glass of champagne that a waiter offered. She didn’t take a sip.

A heartbeat later, Avery’s head turned his way. Guy found himself blurting out to Erica that she’d done a great job with tonight’s cocktail party before Avery could catch him staring at her with puppy-dog eyes. He didn’t even notice his half sister’s flush of surprised pleasure or Blake glaring daggers at him, reflecting the uneasy relationship between the Jarrod brothers and their new-found half-sister.

Another furtive glance showed that Avery had set her untouched glass of champagne down on the edge of the table behind her and was talking, gesturing with both her hands to illustrate what she was saying. When her fingertips settled on her companion’s jacket sleeve, anger stabbed deep in Guy’s chest. Forgetting to pretend disinterest, he assessed the easy familiarity of the gesture through narrowed, bitter eyes.

Maybe not a stranger after all.

A former lover? Someone she’d been pursuing even while she passed time in his own bed?

Bile rose in the back of Guy’s throat. “What’s wrong?”

Guy started. Erica was gazing at him with concerned eyes.

He glanced around.

“Don’t worry, Blake’s not here. He’s gone to fetch me a glass of water. I’m hot and thirsty. It’s been a long day.”

That made him feel curiously uncomfortable. He hadn’t been aware of Erica’s discomfort. Or his twin’s departure. Because he’d been too damned busy devouring Avery with his eyes. Was he so transparent that even the half sister he barely knew could read him like a book? He pressed his lips together and glanced away without responding, discomforted by the sudden flush that heated his face.

“Who is she?”

“Nobody,” Guy bit out.

Erica blinked. “Hey, I only wanted to help. You looked … unhappy.”

Unhappy? Not at all. Instantly Guy forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Truly, I am.”

“Okay, I’ll butt out.” A smile softened the words.

His own smile widened into a relieved grin. “Thanks.”

The lines of strain around her eyes eased, and a wave of remorse flooded him. It was time to cut Erica some slack. She’d done a damn fine job with the festival so far. Yet before he could offer an olive branch he caught sight of Avery and her companion heading for the exit. The tension that had been winding tighter ratcheted up another notch.

She wasn’t ending up in the other man’s bed tonight. Not under his nose, on his turf.

A well-known food writer stepped forward to greet Avery’s companion, causing him to pause. Guy made his move.

“Excuse me,” he murmured to Erica, before rapidly shouldering his way through the throng, unaware that his half sister watched him go, a bemused look on her face. His sole focus was on Avery.

“I want to speak to you.” He cut Avery away from her partner as neatly as a wrangler.

“Guy! What are you doing?”

Placing his arm around her, he bent his head toward her. To an onlooker it would have appeared intimate. Even cozy. But his growled warning was anything but lover-like. “Now’s not the time for a scene, Avery.”

“Scene? I’m not making a scene—you are,” she objected, her voice rising as he swept her along with him. “Let go of me.”

He leaned closer still—and instantly her sweetly sexy floral scent surrounded him. Savagely fighting the sudden blast of raw desire, Guy lowered his voice and murmured into her ear, “Hush. I have no intention of kidnapping you.”

Two

Avery wasn’t so sure.

It only took one glance to reveal that there was a determined—even ruthless—set to Guy’s jaw that she didn’t recognize. His arm, heavy and unwelcome, tightened around her waist. She would’ve given anything not to be so spine-tinglingly aware of his proximity as he hurried her away from Matt.

She’d known this confrontation was coming from the moment he’d realized she was here to speak in Uncle Art’s place. She’d tensed, waiting for the outburst that had never come.

If she’d realized that her Guy Jarrod was one of the Aspen Jarrods she’d have done whatever she could’ve to avoid coming here. Heck, even though it would’ve meant breaking her word to her uncle, she’d pleaded with Matt this afternoon to take his dad’s spot so that she could catch the first flight out. But Matt had to be back in Napa Valley by tomorrow. And not even her desperate pleas had swayed him.

As she shot her nemesis a sideways glance, her breath snagged in her throat. From the opposite end of the grand marquee he’d been eye-catching, but up close Guy Jarrod was utterly devastating. His six-foot plus height suited the tailored tuxedo, the broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist, while the white dress shirt only emphasized the masculine perfection of his handsome profile.

I should hate him … he deserves it.

To hide the humiliating effect his body had on her, she wrinkled her brow, hoping she looked convincingly puzzled. “What did you want to talk about?”

Guy clearly wasn’t fooled. His lips firmed into an impatient line as he stopped in the back corner of the marquee beside a table laden with trays of oysters. He turned to face her. “You taking Art’s place.”

“Is it a problem?”

Of course it was. His reaction earlier had shown that. What she couldn’t work out was why he didn’t want her speaking at the Food and Wine Gala. Well, she was no doubt about to learn.

Avery forced herself to smile faintly—and very politely—at him before helping herself to a glass from a passing waiter to give her hands something to do. She took a delicate sip of the pale liquid and pretended to savor the crisp dryness on her tongue.

Guy’s gaze dipped to her mouth. The eyes that met hers a moment later had gone dark. In the past he’d sometimes poured a glass of champagne for them to share after—

No! She wasn’t thinking of the countless abandoned glasses of untouched champagne or the passionate encounters that had followed.

Her lashes fell, and Avery fixed her attention on the square black snaps of his dress shirt. She recognized those snaps … one evening she’d yanked them all loose—

Oh, heavens!

She jerked her head back and focused on his jaw instead. It was a hard jaw, a determined j—

“You’re not listening.”

“Of course I’m listening.” Please don’t let him ask her to repeat whatever he’d just said.

“You’re not even interested.”

“Not in you,” she muttered rebelliously.

Only a few inches separated his mouth from the area of jaw line she’d been examining, and she watched his beautiful lips flatten into a hard line. To her exasperation, her heartbeat kicked up. This close he smelled so familiar. Of sandalwood soap, a green hint of moss … and man. But this recklessly rash awareness of the man didn’t alter the fact that he was a first-class bastard.

One she would be wise to avoid at all costs.

“How typical of a woman not to be able to separate her emotions from her work.”

What? “That’s not true—” Avery broke off. Or maybe it was. She’d made it personal by disavowing any interest in him. “Okay, I shouldn’t have made that crack.” Especially when her reaction suggested it was patently, horrifyingly untrue.

She was pathetic.

Hadn’t she learned what kind of scum Guy Jarrod was, despite the fancy French restaurant he owned in New York and his high-society family?

God help her….

He rocked back on his heels and the extra inches of space allowed her respite to breathe again without drowning in his scent. For an awful moment she thought he was going to pursue exactly how much of a lie her denial had been.