Keely enjoyed the steadying arm he put across her shoulders, even if it was by accident. They’d all had several celebratory wines with dinner and it wasn’t until they were out in the fresh air that Keely had felt the full effects. Maybe Flynn was feeling it too.

“There’s plenty of moonlight.” She looked up at the night sky sprinkled with glittering stars. There were only a few clouds and a full moon. “I told everyone I’d be fine. It’s not as if I don’t know my way to the studio by now.”

“I needed to clear my head, anyway. It’s been quite a day.”

She glanced at his face, which was silhouetted by the moonlight. He was looking ahead but she could see his lips were turned up in a smile. He was right. Day one of the Divine Wine and Dine weekend had gone exceptionally well and they’d just topped it off with another of Maggie’s delicious meals and a couple of bottles of wine. Keely’s head was buzzing.

“I like your wine but it goes to my head quickly,” she said.

“It’s partly yours, you know,” Flynn said, as they rounded the studio and stepped onto the verandah.

“Now I know you’ve drunk too much.” She chuckled and moved past him to open the door. “I had nothing to do with making your wine.”

He took her arm and gently turned her back to face him. “You have your artwork on the label, which you helped to stick on dozens of bottles. You’ve cooked and cleaned and run the kitchen for our first cellar door where Scarecrow Dry White has sold very steadily. And you believe in it.” He dropped her arm but continued to look into her eyes. “I’d say that showed clear involvement.”

She couldn’t look away. He was right. She had done all those things and it had been easy to believe in something he was so passionate about. He took a small step closer. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. She saw some kind of longing there. Surely not for her but Kat wasn’t here. She turned away from him to reach for the kitchen light. “I’m going to have a tea. Would you like one?” She held her breath, waiting for the reply.

“Thanks.”

He followed her in and she was conscious of him moving about the room as she filled the kettle and got out the teabags and the cups. To have some time alone with Flynn was appealing but she felt guilty, as if she was betraying Kat with her thoughts.

“There’s money in this, you know.”

She turned to see him flicking through her sketchbook.

“They’re personal. I wouldn’t want to sell them.”

He closed the book quickly.

“I’m sorry—”