Beauty from Pain (Beauty, #1)(57)

“Thank you. May I pour you some coffee?”

“I’m not much of a coffee drinker. I’ll have juice, but I can get it. You’ve already done so much.”

“I’m happy to get it for you, dear.” I don’t argue and take my seat at the bar where my omelet awaits. She places a tall glass of orange juice in front of me and I feel uneasy about allowing her to serve me.

“Thank you.”

I begin to eat while she cleans the mess from preparing my breakfast. This makes me feel even guiltier. “I can do that when I’m finished eating.”

“Miss Beckett, relax and enjoy your omelet.”

Miss Beckett isn’t my name. “Okay, but will you please call me Laurelyn?”

“Okay, Laurelyn.”

“How long have you worked for …?” Oh, shit. I don’t know his name. At least not the one Mrs. Porcelli would use.

“I call him Mr. McLachlan, dear. He’s my employer and although I’m old enough to be his mother, I wouldn’t feel right calling him by his first name.”

McLachlan. I laugh to myself because it appears as though we had the same idea when we chose our aliases. I have to wonder. Is this a slip-up in his carefully orchestrated plan or is he relaxing his unbending relationship rules?

Surely, he considered this possibility. He must’ve known Mrs. Porcelli would say his name in front of me at some point since I’m staying here full-time.

I decide I won’t mention the discovery of my newfound information about Mr. McLachlan. Learning his last name changes nothing for us. I won’t try to find him once I leave Australia. There’s no reason to worry him, so let him continue to believe he still holds this secret from me.





28

Jack McLachlan

Spending the day with Laurelyn stretched out on a lounge chair by the pool is a perfect way to spend New Year’s Day. The view is mighty fine with her barely there black bikini, but I worry her skin isn’t prepared for the harsh Australian sun.

“You should put on sunscreen so you don’t sunbake too much.”

She rises on her elbows and peers over her sunnies at me. “I thought I might get a little sun before I put it on.”

“I’m afraid it’ll sneak up on you.”

“I guess you would know better than I do.”

She sits up and grabs the bottle of SPF 70 from the table and begins to massage it into her skin. “This is a new one for me. I’ve never been swimming on New Year’s Day.”

“I guess lots of things seem backwards to you.”

I can’t see her eyes through her sunnies, but she smiles and I wonder what she’s thinking. “Yeah, a few things.” She holds the bottle out in my direction. “Would you do my back for me?”

I cover her in a generous application. When I finish, I return to thumbing through the summer issue of the Winery and Vineyard Journal. I find the article I wrote on vine grafting and I’m in the middle of it when Laurelyn asks, “Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“So, you’re working even when you’re not working.”

I’m sure it appears that way to her. “I guess so.”

I place the magazine on the table and she reaches for it. “Maybe I should read this so I can understand more about what you do.”

“Winemaking interests you?”

“Not really, but you interest me.”

She thumbs through the magazine and I see her stop on my article. I panic as I pray she doesn’t recognize me in the photograph. “I’m getting into the pool. Why don’t you join me? You can read all the exciting articles on winemaking later.”

“Vine grafting.” She glances at me. “Is this the same process you’re doing here at Avalon?”

I get up to take the journal and place it on the table. “It is, and you can read all about the thrilling adventures in grafting later. It’s hot. Come into the pool with me to cool off.”

She has no idea how close she is to figuring me out, so I tug on her hands. “Come on.”

She shakes her head and gets up from the lounger. “You always get your way, don’t you?”

Laurelyn follows me into the pool. She takes her hair out of the bun and tosses the elastic band to the sidewalk before she dips her head backwards. She lifts her head out of the pool and pushes the water away from her face.

She’s a magnet and I’m metal. I can’t resist the pull between us so I move closer and put my hands around her waist. She puts her arms around my shoulders and wraps her legs around me, but not in a sexual way. She’s being playful.

“So, Mrs. Porcelli and Daniel travel with you when you’re stationed at different vineyards?”

Stationed. That’s a good word to describe the way I travel with work. “They come with me anytime I stay more than a week, and I try to give them several days to be home with their families before we leave again.”

“What do you think Mrs. Porcelli thinks of you never bringing a woman home?”

I laugh as I picture Laurelyn prancing into the kitchen in nothing but her panties and my T-shirt. “She probably thought I was gay until you showed up in the kitchen barely wearing enough to cover this.” I glide my hands over the bottom of her bikini.