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  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Marina Adair. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original St. Helena Vineyard Series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Marina Adair, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  ONE WISH

  T.M. CROMER

  To Deb Diem:

  Thank you for your endless support

  and wonderful friendship.

  CONTENTS

  From Marina Adair

  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

  Epilogue

  A Note From The Author

  FROM MARINA ADAIR

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the St. Helena Vineyard’s Kindle World, where romance is waiting to be uncorked and authors from around the globe are invited to share their own stories of love and happily ever after. Set in the heart of wine country, this quaint town and its cast of quirky characters were the inspiration behind my St Helena Vineyard series, and the Hallmark Channel movie, AUTUMN IN THE VINEYARD. I want to thank these incredible authors for spending time in St. Helena, and all of you readers who are adventurous enough to take the journey with us.

  I hope you enjoy your time here as much as we have.

  Warmly,

  Marina Adair

  CHAPTER 1

  I f Faith Fiore had one wish, it would be to escape from underneath the shadow of her family’s curse. Oh, it wasn’t a real curse, not in the sense of witchcraft and magic, or at least not to her personal knowledge. Although, the idea did have merit. Wouldn’t it be interesting to have some type of magical connection, a metaphysical cause that could be undone? She blew out a sigh.

  There was no such cause and therefore, no easy solution. Generations of her family members had been unlucky in love. A Fiore’s love never lasted. Death, divorce, dismemberment, yeah, all those things had happened and more, cementing the fears of all family members that the curse was real.

  But about a year ago, her sister, Hope, had scoffed in the face of said curse and became involved with her now fiancé, Royce. Around that same time, her brother Valentino and his old flame, Ashley, hooked back up. So far, things had been smooth sailing for both couples. And their successful love stories had given Faith hope. Perhaps now she could risk her heart and find a love of her own.

  The problem: Faith was weird. No one wanted to be around her other than a small number of friends. She found odd things funny and went so far as to laugh during a funeral service. Was it her fault she had a twisted sense of humor? It hadn’t helped that the man in question—Bodean Bartholomew Button—had plunged fifteen feet to his death while fending off a coordinated multiple-monkey attack at the local zoo. Apparently, old Bodean Bartholomew had ventured where angels feared to tread. But really, his drunken ass shouldn’t have been in the primate habitat to begin with, not with a band of horny white-headed capuchins on the loose. A perfect example of a hold-my-beer hillbilly. Oh, and he happened to be a distant cousin. So yeah, to her mind, being warped was a genetic defect. All the other Fiores seemed to be normal—well, maybe not Hope, who took great delight in practical jokes—but still.

  Currently, in front of her loomed the uptight business accountant, Randall Crandall. He hadn’t appreciated when she’d snorted like a fourteen-year-old after he’d introduced himself.

  “Randall Crandall?” She laughed uproariously.

  “Rand,” he bit out.

  Delighted by his pique, she continued. “Who the hell names their poor kid Randall Crandall? Did your parents hate you?”

  “Really, Ms. Fiore, do yo—”

  “Talk about subjecting your child to a beating at school! How many fights were you in as a kid? Go ahead, fess up!”

  His already icy blue eyes became arctic, and the man bowed up to his full height of six-two. “I didn’t.” Any normal person subject to his cold tone would suffer frostbite. Since Faith wasn’t normal, she didn’t take heed.

  “Now I know you’re lying. There is no way on God’s green earth you didn’t get into a fight. The probability has to be—”

  “Ms. Fiore, are you planning to get to the point of your visit anytime today? I have another appointment in five minutes.”

  Randall Crandall wasn’t a very nice man if he couldn’t take a joke. Dude had a stick up his ass. She glanced at his left hand. No wonder he wasn’t married—not with an attitude like that!

  “Well, sure if you’re in a hurry. But first…” She dug into the large canvas bag she’d placed in the visitor’s chair when she first entered. “As a welcome, Mama wanted me to bring you her special lasagna.”

  When she handed him the baking dish, their fingers brushed and she nearly fumbled the container. Lucky for her, the man had the reflexes of a cat. Before she knew what was happening, he had her hands trapped between his and the glass. She hadn’t expected the swift electrical charge his touch elicited and gasped. Those ice-blue eyes warmed a fraction, and a mocking brow lifted. Color, hot and bright, stained her cheeks. Awkward.

  Panic assailed her as she tried to think what to say next. Crikey, small talk was her Kryptonite. And why the hell was he still holding her trapped with those large hands of his? She was about to ask that exact question when she noticed the burn scars on the back of his forearms.

  “What happened? That looks pretty nasty.”

  Without missing a beat, he replied, “As you said, my parents hated me.”

  The type of scars registered. Cigarette burns. Blood drained from her face as she realized he wasn’t purposefully mocking her. He spoke the truth.

  “Ohmygod! Mr. Crandall, I’m so sorry. I…”

  Expression closed off, he shifted to remove the dish from her hands and place it on his desk. “It’s past history. May we please get back to why you are here?”

  And damned if she hadn’t already forgotten! Perhaps her blank expression clued him in, because he took the lead.

  “I’m assuming you intended to discuss hiring our firm. Let me save you some time and trouble, Ms. Fiore. We’re not interested in having you as a client. Kindly thank your mother for the gift of food. I’m sure my staff will enjoy it. I’ll have my assistant, Sascha, return the cleaned dish if you’ll leave your address with her.” He’d circled around to the door and held it open for her to leave. “Good day.”

  Upset by his rude behavior, she had no comeback. She did the one thing she probably shouldn’t have and sat down, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “You can’t just deny me as your client. That’s bad form!”

  “Bad form?” he mocked. “What, are we in Victorian England?”

  In that moment, Faith seriously disliked the man.

  RAND WATCHED the play of emotions chase across Faith Fiore’s face. His rejection was justified. Any woman who was rude enough to poke fun at another person didn’t deserve his consideration. He’d been in this town for enough time to know who did what at their family vineyard. If he decided to accept their business, he’d be stuck working with this bizarre, outspoken woman for the duration of their arrangement. No way in hell did he intend to be within two feet of her if he had anything to say about it. Within five minutes of her setting foot in his office, she’d set his teeth on edge and ha
d him ready to wring her neck.

  “Why?”

  The confusion in her voice confused him. Surely she had to know she’d been condescending and rude, right? Rand had one fast-and-hard rule for his firm: professionalism at all costs. So, it was a great surprise to himself when he said, “I don’t like you, Ms. Fiore.”

  “I see.” Her initial crushed expression shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did. But when she straightened her shoulders and carefully blanked her features of any emotion, he had to wonder if she’d been through this before. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Please be sure to leave your address with Sascha for the baking dish,” he reminded her, needing something to say other than his standard “it’s my pleasure” because clearly, it wasn’t. No point in lying about it now.

  “Yeah, I kinda got that the first time you said it.”

  The snark was unmistakable and made him feel happier for hearing it. It proved she was able to bounce back. Why that pleased him, he refused to examine.

  He followed her to the door. As he shoved down his relief that she would be leaving, she turned to him instead. Regret registered in those soft, mocha eyes of hers. “I’m sorry for what I said about your parents. And I’m sorry for what they did to you. No child should have to experience abuse of any kind.”

  While he churned over what she’d said and tried to put it together with who she’d appeared to be ten minutes ago, she disappeared. Why was he suddenly the one feeling like an ass? He had a strange desire to call her back, but because he liked order, he let her go.

  Ever so carefully, he shut his office door and strode to his desk. There on the corner was the container of lasagna her mother had taken the time to bake him. Him, a total stranger. Jealousy flared. He could only imagine her childhood. The type of childhood he’d always dreamed about; loving parents, siblings to play or fight with, and a virtual playground on vast acres of land on the proper side of the tracks.

  Oh, grow up, Rand! He was a thirty-four-year-old man who ran his own CPA firm. One he’d worked long and hard to cultivate. Hadn’t he already told her the past was the past? He’d buried it long ago. Why was he allowing what had happened to affect the present?

  With a curse under his breath, he charged for the outer office in hopes of catching her before she left. He came up short to find her occupying a chair in the reception area.

  “I knew you’d change your mind.”

  Her relieved grin floored him and had his eyes nearly popping from his head.

  “Who said I changed my mind?”

  She stood and moved to within a foot of his tall frame. The urge to back up a step took all his strength to curb.

  “Haven’t you?”

  He turned on his heel and started back for his office. “Follow me.”

  Trotting to keep up, she said, “I knew it had to go one of two ways. Either you were going to see I was out on my ass or you were going to cave. I guess there was a third option, but you don’t seem the type.”

  He halted in his tracks and glared down at her. The woman was infuriating. Hadn’t she realized he was consenting to allow her to be a client of the firm? His prestigious firm? You’d think she’d shut the hell up and be grateful.

  “Fine. I’ll bite. What was the third option?”

  “You could always abduct me and force me to become your sex slave.”

  A titter drifted to him from Sascha’s desk. He was careful to not look his assistant’s way and effectively ignored her amusement. He couldn’t take his incredulous eyes from the outrageous woman in front of him. The worst part was that his mind had stuttered to a halt when she said the words “force me to become your sex slave.” The visual had him debating doing just that.

  CHAPTER 2

  F aith wasn’t sure how she’d ever considered his eyes icy. At the moment, they singed her as they raked her from head to toe. His heavy-lidded countenance forced her to mentally roll up her tongue and shove it back into her mouth. For the longest time, he remained fixated on her lips.

  Like a large, bewildered lion, he shook his head then took all that bottled-up grace and stalked toward his inner office. Helpless to do otherwise, she followed.

  “Do you work out? Because you don’t look like any accountant I’ve ever seen.”

  He stumbled before he continued on. Another snorting laugh sounded from the direction of Sascha. Faith inwardly cringed. Gah! There she went with her weird shit again. By tomorrow, her stupid comment would be all over town.

  “I need you to reschedule my next appointment until after lunch, Sascha.”

  The deep baritone did strange things to Faith’s insides. She was quickly becoming obsessed with the man. But seriously, what wasn’t to be obsessed with? Tall and rugged with mussed mahogany hair, he was every woman’s fantasy. And facts were facts, the way his ass filled out those slacks was driving her mad. The word ‘mad’ brought to mind the Mad Hatter and images of Alice falling down the rabbit hole.

  Have I gone mad?

  I’m afraid so.

  You’re entirely bonkers.

  But I’ll tell you a little secret,

  All the best people are.

  Yes, she must be insane if she was mentally quoting Alice in Wonderland. She giggled.

  “What’s so funny, Ms. Fiore?”

  “Falling down the rabbit hole.”

  He didn’t act surprised. It was as if he’d expected her answer and nodded before he graced her with a half-smile.

  “I have an idea.” She burst out, spontaneous to a fault. “Let’s start over.” Approaching him, she held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Faith Fiore.”

  His large, warm palm enveloped hers. “Randall Crandall.” His tone held a challenge, and she struggled not to break up. Her lips twitched, but she drew on every ounce of willpower she possessed to only nod and sit in the visitor’s chair.

  He continued to play along and asked, “What brings you here today, and how can I help you?”

  She posed like the perfect lady, ankles crossed and hands folded elegantly in her lap. His eyes warmed more with each passing second and were focused on the hem of her pencil skirt where it rested just above her knee. A small, inappropriate thrill shot through her.

  “Well, as you may or may not know, our current accountant has cut back her hours to part-time. Her intention is to decrease her workload and eventually retire by the end of next spring. We need someone able to handle the caseload. I’m hopeful that someone can be you.”

  Never once did he stop studying her, like a bug under a microscope. She broke eye contact and surveyed her surroundings. The office reeked of cold and clinical. Bookshelves were lined with binders resembling soldiers—all perfectly aligned by height, spines straight. A ginormous modern desk sat before a wide expanse of windows with a plush leather chair tucked behind it. The glass top of the desk was supported by chrome legs and gave the whole room an open feel. No getting busy under that desk.

  The thought had her crazy turned on. She shot him a quick glance from under her lashes. He’d cocked his head to the side and eyed her with something akin to bemusement. For the second time in their brief acquaintance, she could feel heat suffusing her cheeks. And for the first time, he all-out grinned.

  The sight stole her breath and left her lightheaded. Dear God! If she’d thought he was gorgeous before, it was nothing compared to the full force of his smile. Thankful she was already sitting down, she leaned back in the chair. In the entirety of her life, she couldn’t recall wanting someone as much as she did this man, this very moment. Her eyes wandered the expanse of his chest, and she envisioned doing naughty things to the uptight Randall Crandall.

  Perhaps working with him wasn’t the best idea. Faith would only screw it up and make him think she was even more of a lunatic than she already seemed. As she opened her mouth to tell him to forget it, forget everything, forget her, he spoke.

  “Okay.”

  Okay? What did that mean? Okay, he was cool with her licking whipp
ed cream off his pecs while—

  “I’ll accept you as one of our clients on the condition all your books are in order and everything looks aboveboard.”

  Oh, so yeah, she’d forgotten about the whole business thing again.

  She bound to her feet and yelled, “Great!” The loudness of her voice echoed off the walls and made her wince. With an attempt to moderate her tone, she tried again. “Um, thanks. Mama will be happy to hear it.”

  He smiled. Gah! Again with the grin. If she didn’t get out of there STAT, she would be too weak-kneed to move. Under his regard, she could feel her knees turning to Jello.

  “Okay… well… now that’s… uh… settled, I’ll… uh… be going.”

  One dark brow rose, and he tilted his head in question. “What’s the rush? I thought I’d take you to lunch.”

  “Lunch?” she squeaked.

  “I take all my new clients to lunch.”

  “You do?”

  For pity’s sake, if she didn’t regulate her breathing, she was going to need oxygen assistance soon.

  “Mmhmm.”

  RAND WASN’T sure why he told the whopper about taking new clients to lunch. He rarely, if ever, fraternized with others outside of the workplace. And he never, ever lied. But he’d come to a realization in the last half-hour since meeting Faith Fiore. She sparked something within him. Call it interest, but whatever the spark was, she intrigued him. He’d never met anyone so zany and open before. He had the feeling she’d head left when she should head right. Such was her twisted way of thinking—which intrigued a man like him. A man who, above everything else, thrived on routine. A man who never set one foot out of place, never dared to.

  Second to the spark of interest came a spark of lust. Perhaps that alone should warn him off. He rarely gave into base desires. Which was not to say he’d never had sex. He did. But there was a time and place for everything, and he stuck to hooking up outside of the St. Helena city limits. That was the appeal of the modern-day phone app. One could meet just for the act of sex, or one could actually go on a date if the desire for companionship was too great.