The Cheating Vines

M A Prins

Description

It has been said.

A winemaker can make good wine from good fruit.

A lover can turn a good wife bad.

A winemaker can turn good fruit into bad wine.

Carla's husband Nick is a good man. But the pop of their marriage had long since lost its fizz between the sheets of suburban humdrum. One phone call, and the realization she needed her kids more than they needed her changed everything.

Forever.

Leaving behind his cushy life in the city for the stunning beauty of wine country, Matt sniffs, sips, swirls and spits all in the hope of one day unleashing the gifted winemaker he dreams to become.

When confronted with the choice of his marriage or a coveted job at Sleepy Cloud Winery the decision was as easy as drinking a glass of good Syrah.

Sujets

• Romance contemporaine
• Fiction
• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 10 janvier 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456624125
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Cheating Vines

Love and betrayal at Sleepy Cloud Winery


By

M.A. Prins
CONFIDENTIAL © Magdalena VandenBerg

Digital Edition
All Copyright to Magdalena A VandenBerg
All Rights Reserved
Disclaimer/Rights:
Most of my work is fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Written under pseudonym by Magdalena Vandenberg
80 Rochfort Road
Havelock North 4130
New Zealand
[phone]
[e-mail]

www.maprins.com

The Cheating Vines is a revised adaption of Love in the Vines written by and under the name of Magdalena VandenBerg.
Thank you Mum xxx
Thank you Split Shire Free Stock Photos for the beautiful cover photo. Made with love in Italy.
It has been said.
A winemaker can make good wine from good fruit.
A lover can turn a good wife bad.
A winemaker can turn good fruit into bad wine.
Carla’s husband Nick is a good man. But the pop of their marriage had long since lost its fizz between the sheets of suburban humdrum. One phone call, and the realization she needed her kids more than they needed her changed everything.
Forever.
Leaving behind his cushy life in the city for the stunning beauty of wine country, Matt sniffs, sips, swirls and spits all in the hope of one day unleashing the gifted winemaker he dreams to become.
When confronted with the choice of his marriage or a coveted job at Sleepy Cloud Winery the decision was as easy as drinking a glass of good Syrah.
TABLE OF CONTENTS


CARLA
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
NICK
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
MATT
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
FRANCE
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Carla



Chapter 1


F rom day one I knew he was dangerous. The fire of lust burned deep in his ocean- green eyes. Resistance was futile knowing his glistening body would soon melt into mine. Running my fingers through his dark, tousled curls I closed my eyes against the cloaked shadow of deceit.
This wasn’t my husband.
Surrendering into the softness of his kiss stirred a blistering longing for the man I barely knew. ‘Take me now,’ I murmured in a rush of fervent desire long since extinguished by faded wedded bliss.
I’d all but lost the joy of intimacy with Nick, my husband of fifteen years. Once blooming with promise, our love had wilted between the sheets of disinterest covering our marriage bed.
On this stolen afternoon, Matt had, in one masterful stroke, scorched his name across my heart.
Bathed in love’s smouldering glow, Matt teased. ‘Maybe we have time, what? It can’t be!’ In a glance I watched as his mood changed from amorous to mild panic. ‘Oh no, I don’t believe it.’ His voice tensed with concern.
‘What? What is it?’ I stammered in confusion.
‘Carla, it’s gone six! Don’t you have to be home by five?’
His question startled me into action.
‘Oh no, damn it!’ I cursed while gathering my clothes lying in guilty abandon on his bedroom floor. With no time to shower I dressed in record time. Snatching a quick glance in the mirror, a harried reflection stared back at me.
With the scent of infidelity lingering on my skin I snapped back to the certainty I would be late. Ramming my size nine feet into blue, scuffed sneakers all I could think about was the lie I’d spin to my husband.
With no time to plan our next rendezvous I kissed Matt goodbye and drove the country roads home. I was careful not to let haste get the better of me, the last thing I needed was the unwanted evidence of a speeding ticket. By the time I walked through the front door, my agitation had morphed into a dress rehearsal of weaving my version of the truth into a believable story.
‘Hi! I’m home. Sorry I’m late,’ I gabbled to Nick who was busy at the kitchen bench washing vegetables. ‘Can you believe it? While out shopping I bumped into an old school friend of mine, Alexa. Next thing I know, we’re in a café talking up a storm! I completely forgot about the time.’
‘Oh! When did you last see Alexa?’ Nick asked while peeling carrots.
‘Years ago! We figured we were about ten years old. I still can’t believe she recognized me,’ I fudged.
‘Would I know her from school? Her name doesn’t ring a bell. How about asking her over for dinner?’ Nick suggested.
‘Unfortunately she flies back to Sydney first thing in the morning.’ By now, I hoped my story garnered enough disinterest.
It hadn’t.
‘So why don’t I remember Alexa from school?’ Nick queried.
‘I think she left before you moved into the area. Her Dad got a job transfer to Melbourne. She’s been living in Australia ever since. Anyway, I know I should have called, but Alexa, well, she likes to chat!’ Skilfully I had shifted the blame to my fictional long lost friend.
‘I wasn’t too worried. I thought your phone battery must have died. Besides, it’s not the first time it’s happened. It wouldn’t hurt to remember to send me a quick message,’ Nick said sounding only a tad miffed.
‘I know.’ I sighed.
Nick finally kicked my tardiness to the curb by talking about the kids, and the rosemary-infused lamb slow roasting in the oven.
Despite knowing everything was mine to lose, I crossed over the rickety bridge of lies in the hope of finding true love with Matt.
My husband? I’d never truly loved him.
Sometimes fate isn’t written in the poems of our dreams, or in the musings of the stars.
Sometimes fate is splattered on the wall of broken promises.
Chapter 2


‘A re you sure you won’t come?’ Nick asked shrugging his jacket over his shoulders.
‘After such a delicious dinner I can’t move. I’m going to be lazy and stay put and read. Enjoy yourself. You’re not driving are you?’
‘No, I’m walking. See you later.’ Nick called out before leaving to join his mates for a few quiet drinks at the local pub.
With the children asleep, peace and quiet snuggled around me. Mine to treasure, the silence soon skimmed ripples of disquiet across the pages of my book. Reading did nothing to lighten the burden of my secret. I craved Matt.
Covering the truth with lies exhausted me, as did the weight of guilt. But our marriage couldn’t survive the hint of an affair. For Nick, infidelity struck a raw nerve. He loathed its duplicity, and above everything else, he’d hate being made a fool of again.
I should know.
Years ago on a cold winter night Nick and I made a vow of another kind. With our wedding date set and the dress of my organza dreams hidden from the groom, we huddled around a roaring fire and vowed not to let the ghosts of lovers past haunt the promise of our future together.
My confession of a relationship choked in the hype of believing he loved me too, burned on the dancing flames. His name escaped me. Brant or Brandon? Nick visibly blanched at the memory assault of Celia.
He thought they were exclusive. A couple, no longer swimming in the shallow waters of the dating pool. The sight of a man hurriedly dressing his middle aged spread shattered everything. According to Celia, it was nothing! A fling! That afternoon with the husband of the economics professor was only their second time. Heartbroken and duped, Nick vowed never to be anyone’s sloppy seconds. Chasing the excitement of an affair did nothing but leave him breathless from the absurdity.
Our marriage couldn’t bear the haunting of Celia.
Three sharp beeps rescued my dread. Grabbing my phone from the coffee table I hoped it wasn’t a message from my mother-in-law. Only this morning I’d phoned Violet feigning the lightness of a happy wife confirming lunch. I don’t even know why I bothered to call. Tradition commanded our presence around her beautifully-set table groaning under the weight of Sunday fare.
The simplicity of Matt’s name complicated everything.
<Matt here. Next week Wednesday I’ll be at Chateau Summerset for a nine o’clock meeting. I’m keeping the room for the day. Join me – strictly pleasure no business. Promise to have you home by five>
His message cast a spell of wicked intent.
I couldn’t.
<Yes>
In the darkest corner of my mind trouble heeded a warning. The might of that one short word could fell a family tree.
<Details later>
The phone, the keeper of secrets, lay forgotten on the couch next to my abandoned book. Charged with nervousness I paced together sentences of the story I would tell. After treading a pathway into the beige carpet I’d fooled myself into believing Nick wouldn’t question my reason for skipping work next Wednesday.
A dental appointment always garners a sympathetic "rather you than me" nod.
I needed a glass of wine to fuel the brave.
Flowing a river of loveliness, I was onto my second glass when Nick arrived home earlier than expected. Tipsy from one beer too many, I couldn’t escape the want in his eyes.
‘Darling, let’s go to bed.’
‘Let me finish this.’
‘The wine can wait.’
His kiss, hungry and desperate, wanted more.
‘You taste delicious,’ he murmured.
‘And you smell of a brewery!’ I said harshly.
‘Okay! No need to be so snarky! I get the hint,’ he said sulking off to the bathroom.
Delay stalled the inevitable. As Nick strolled back into the lounge there was no mistaking my rebuke hadn’t dimmed the glint in his eye.
He kissed me all the way to bed.
That night my husband’s hands, normally so tender and knowing, rasped sandpaper strokes on my skin.
Chapter 3


A n innocent request made first thing Monday morning flawed the normalcy of another day. Using domestic trivia, and a visit to the dentist as an excuse I asked my boss for the day o