Authors: Katy Regnery
Margaret took a deep breath and held it. There wasn’t a formal commitment between them, and
technically
Saturday would be their first date. He was expecting sex on their first date? Hmm. Was she the sort of girl who had sex on the first date? She certainly never had been before.
Then again, she’d never felt about anyone the way she felt about Cameron. She was traversing foreign territory with him, and all of it—every last bit—felt wonderful. Maybe it was time to stop questioning everything in her life, and let life happen to her.
Cameron Winslow: Baby?
M. Story: See you on Saturday.
Cameron Winslow: Sweet dreams, Meggie.
M. Story: Sweet dreams, Cam.
***
Notwithstanding Sunday night’s phone sex escapade with Margaret, it had been a long, boring week, filled with tough decisions, difficult phone calls, interminable hours of filing, and endless meetings with English & Sons as Cameron signed the appropriate forms to finalize the sale of his father’s business to his good friends.
Cameron’s only potential roadblock was his siblings, who, in fairness, had never shown any interest in the business. But before he signed the final-sale contract, he felt it only right to share the news with them before C & C Winslow was formally absorbed by English & Sons. He called his mother, sister, and brothers on Friday morning and asked if they could meet for dinner at Westerly, and although Brooks was away on a cruise, his mother, Olivia, and other siblings, Preston, Christopher, and Jessica, all agreed to be at Westerly as requested.
The drive to Westerly took twice as long as he expected because of a monsoon-like thunderstorm, but Jessica greeted him at the front door when he arrived, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek with a smack once they were safely inside.
“How’s my favorite brother?”
“We all know that Chris is your favorite.”
“Wrong. Brooks.”
“Brooks isn’t your brother. He’s your surrogate dad.”
She shrugged, then leaned forward and kissed Cameron again. “I do love you like crazy, you know.”
“I know.”
“You saved the day. You saved the biggest day of my life.”
“You’re my only sister. What else could I do?”
“Alex and I were out at The Five Sisters on Wednesday. It’s starting to look beautiful, Cam. I can’t believe you’re building a winery just for me.”
He put his arm around her and let her lead him down the hallway to the dining room.
“You’re forty minutes late,” she said. “You missed cocktails. Mummy just asked for dinner to be served.”
“Have you seen the weather? It’s raining cats and dogs outside.”
Entering the grand dining room at Westerly, Cameron beelined for his mother’s seat at the head of the table and leaned down to kiss her cheek.
“Sorry I’m late, Mum.”
“You could have called, Cameron Pembroke.”
Like the rest of his brothers’, his middle name had been taken from the names of the colleges at the University of Cambridge, where his parents had met a hundred years ago. He slapped Preston Downing and Christopher Sussex on their backs before taking his seat and grinning at his mother. “Don’t tell me you were worried.”
“About you? Unlikely. You’re my cat with nine lives who always lands on his feet.”
“And what am I?” asked Preston.
“Less moody than you were a few weeks ago,” answered Olivia smoothly, gesturing to the maid to serve the soup.
Cameron looked across the table at Christopher. “How goes the campaign?”
Christopher shrugged. “Running for controller was simpler, that’s for damn certain.”
“Yes, but you’ll get more girls as a congressman,” said Jessica, grinning at him as she took a slurp of soup. “And we all know how important ass is to you.”
“Don’t be disgusting, dear,” said Olivia.
“Sorry, Mummy,” said Jessica, sticking her tongue out at Christopher, who snickered.
“Cameron, not that I don’t love an excuse to have four of my five children around a table for dinner, but you’ve piqued my curiosity by calling us all together.”
Cameron took another sip of soup and put down his spoon. “It’s C & C Winslow. I’m selling it.”
Typical of his mother’s stiff-upper-lip character, her face didn’t register any emotion upon hearing this news, but she did lift her chin a hair. “Oh?”
Christopher’s spoon clattered across the table, and Cameron jerked his head to look at his little brother. “What the hell, Cam?”
“It was Dad’s company,” said Preston softly, looking at Cameron with wounded eyes.
Cameron turned his glance to Jessica, who gave him a sympathetic smile before casting her gaze down at her soup.
“Why?” asked his mother.
Cameron looked at her, then shifted his eyes to Christopher. “You know how many accounts we’d pulled in. It was too much for one person.”
“So hire someone! Don’t
sell
it!”
Cameron felt his temper rising and tried to keep it in check. “
You
hire someone. How about that, Chris?
You
quit the election,
you
come to C & C Winslow, and
you
hire someone to give you a hand.”
Christopher narrowed his eyes before looking down at the table. He withdrew his napkin from his lap and slapped it on the table. “I’ve lost my appetite, Mum.”
“Calm down, Christopher,” said Olivia.
“There’s no way to salvage it?” asked Preston.
“
You
want it?” asked Cameron.
Preston shook his head. “No.”
Cameron looked at Chris. “You?”
“You know I’m locked into an election. I couldn’t do anything even if I wanted to.”
“And yet you did,” said Olivia gently. “You chose to run for office and leave C & C Winslow to your brother.”
“Cam,” said Jess. “What are you going to do?”
He turned to face his sister. “I’m going to sell it to English & Sons for thirty-five million dollars. We’ll each take seven.”
Her face, which had been sad, suddenly brightened. “Oh, well, that’s wonderful.”
“I didn’t realize you were so mercenary, Jess,” said Preston, shaking his head with disappointment. “Doesn’t your trust fund cover your expenses?”
“Mercenary?” she exclaimed. “My feelings have nothing to do with money. I’m happy Cameron found a way to keep the business in the family.”
“The
family
? How’s that, Jess?” demanded Christopher.
“Because one day Alex and I will have children. And those children, half English and half Winslow, will have the option of working for English & Sons, a company that was partially built by their grandfather Taylor Winslow.” She smiled gently at Cameron. “It was the perfect solution, Cam. I love it.”
“Jessica makes an excellent point,” said Olivia. “Well done, Cameron.”
Cameron took a deep breath and exhaled, looking across the table at his brothers. “Can you two live with it?”
Preston nodded. “I never had much interest in it. I hate to see it sold, of course, but if it’s going to anyone, I’m glad it’s the Englishes.”
Cameron turned to his younger brother. “Chris?”
“I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Not really.”
“Then I guess it doesn’t matter.” Christopher looked at his mother. “Please excuse me.” Then he got up and left the table.
Olivia gave Cameron a small, tired smile and reached out her hand to him. “Give him time. He feels bad that he couldn’t save it while he attempts to save the world instead.”
“I know,” said Cameron, squeezing her hand. “I’m sorry too. But I wasn’t happy, Mum, and I finally figured out a way I can be.”
“Doing what, dear?”
Cameron smiled down at his soup, a joy bubbling up inside him as he looked back up at his mother. “Building wineries.”
***
By morning, the torrential rain from the night before had subsided, leaving behind bright sunshine to flood Cameron’s bedroom with possibility and cheer.
He swung his legs over the bed, grinning. His business was sold. His family was—mostly—on board. And today was Saturday. In an hour or so, he was going to meet Margaret in the lobby and drive her out to The Five Sisters, where he intended to carry her into her cottage, up to her bedroom, and have his way with her. All. Weekend. Long.
Cameron’s phone, which had died during dinner at Westerly, was all charged up on his bedside table. He was surprised to see that he’d missed several phone calls and text messages. He clicked on the text icon and realized they were all from Margaret, starting at ten o’clock last night.
10:04 pm
M. Story: You’re not picking up your phone, and I don’t know how else to get in touch with you. You’re not at your office or downstairs in your apartment.
10:26 pm
M. Story: I know you asked me not to stay at the cottage without you, but Shawn’s called twice. He and Owen have been working for hours, but this rain is eroding some of the vines, and I need to get out there and help.
10:52 pm
M. Story: I’m getting on the road now. I’m sure whoever broke into the cottage isn’t coming back anytime soon. Please don’t worry about me. I’m a little worried about you, though. I was sure you’d call me back by now. Please let me know you’re okay, Cam.
5:12 am
M. Story: Going to bed for a few hours. We did our best, but we lost some of the vines. I’m so tired and pretty discouraged too. Are you coming to me today? I am worried about you.
Cameron’s heart clutched at the sorrow and exhaustion in her tone, and he glanced at the top of his phone to check the time: seven forty-five.
Quickly, he typed:
Cameron Winslow: I’m coming, baby. I’ll be there soon.
Throwing the covers off his body, he crossed the room in two strides and grabbed a pair of boxers from his bureau, pulling them on with one hand as he found a pair of jeans in another drawer and threw them on too. He brushed his teeth, grabbed his razor and toothbrush and tossed them into an overnight bag. He pulled a navy polo shirt over his head and slid his feet into a pair of old boat shoes sitting by his bedroom door.
Five minutes later, he stood in the lobby, waiting for his car to be brought around.
“Mr. Winslow!” greeted Franklin. “It’s a fine day for an outing. Where are you headed?”
“Out to Miss Story’s vineyard,” he said, impatiently waiting to see his car appear at the curb.
“Is that right?” Franklin moved around the concierge desk quickly and called down the service hallway: “Diego! Diego, come on back here with that FedEx!”
A moment later, a frowning Diego walked into the lobby with a FedEx box under his arm.
“Mr. Winslow is headed out to Miss Story’s vineyard. Why don’t we give him the package?”
Diego took a step back, clutching the package to his chest. “Uh. No. I got it. I go leave it in her apartment.”
“Might be time sensitive, Diego,” said Franklin, holding out his hand. “Better we get it to her today.”
“Maybe she don’t want him bringing it to her. You ever think of that?”
“Diego! What’s gotten into you? Give it to me now.”
Diego thrust the package at Franklin, turned on his heel, and stomped back down the hallway.
Franklin handed the package to Cameron. “Dang, but he’s a moody little son of a bitch sometimes. Oh,” he said, seeming to remember himself. “Sorry, Mr. Winslow. Didn’t mean to speak out of turn.”
“Maybe he’s just having a bad day,” said Cameron distractedly, taking the box. It was another package addressed from Baja California, where Margaret wanted to buy grapes.
Just then, his car arrived at the curb.
“Have a good day, Franklin.”
“Oh, you too, Mr. Winslow,” said Franklin with a knowing grin. “And say hi to Miss Story for me.”
Cameron threw his overnight bag and the FedEx box in the backseat and stepped on the gas.
His woman needed him. Damned if he would let her down.
***
As he turned into the dirt road that led to The Five Sisters, Cameron passed Shawn and Owen in their pickup truck. Both were filthy and looked beyond weary. Shawn shared that they’d done their best to cover and save the grapes they could.
“Miss Margaret did the work of three men,” he said in his usual surly voice, to which Cameron had become accustomed.
“She’s a real nice lady,” said his brother, who, for all of his towering strength, Cameron had learned, was really more of a gentle child–man.
“She sure is, Owen,” said Cameron, giving him a grin, which Owen quickly returned.
“Tasting room looks good,” said Shawn. “All framed now. Roofing started. Coming along.”
“Thanks for keeping an eye on it this week,” said Cameron. “Couldn’t make it out here to check on the progress, but I intend to be here a lot more from now on.”