Harvest Moon Read Online Free

decline her invitation.
    Turning gracefully, she walked out of the living room, leaving him to follow. He followed numbly, staring at the wealth of curling black hair falling to her narrow waist.
    Regina led him outdoors to a patio overlooking the lighted courtyard. A small, round table had been set for two. A dozen blackened antique iron lanterns, suspended from stanchions, bathed the space in a warm yellow glow. She extended her left hand, and the light caught the circle of diamonds on her third finger.
    “Please be seated.”
    He did not sit, but walked around the table and pulled out a chair for her. “Thank you,” she murmured softly, permitting him to seat her.
    Aaron lingered over her head, feasting on the soft swell of her breasts rising above the dress’s décolletage and the sensual fragrance of her body before he reluctantly rounded the table and sat down opposite her.
    She removed the cover of a soup bowl, watching Aaron follow suit. It was only a week ago that she had shared her last supper with Oscar. There were days when he hadn’t been able to tolerate eating solid food, but he awoke one morning complaining that he was hungry. They’d shared breakfast in his bedroom, and an early supper on the patio. Oscar was more animated than he had been in weeks. They’d laughed and danced together, humming to their own music before he returned to bed, complaining offatigue. That night was the last time his feet would ever touch a solid surface.
    Aaron spooned the rich, flavorful fish soup into his mouth, watching his stepmother closely. She ate as if in a trance, and he knew she went through the motions because it was necessary to sustain her life. Laying aside his spoon, he reached over and picked up a bottle of chilled white wine.
    “Regina?” Her head came up quickly. “May I serve you some wine?”
    “No, thank you.” Her husky voice had dropped an octave, and he was enthralled with its cloaking pitch. “I don’t drink.” She picked up a goblet with mineral water and took a sip.
    Tilting his head at an angle, he narrowed his gaze. “Are you recovering?”
    She laughed softly, the sound floating up in the warm, summer night air. “No. I just have no tolerance for anything alcoholic.”
    “How does it affect you?”
    “Migraine.”
    He nodded. “That’s enough reason not to drink.”
    They ate in silence, both content to listen to the strumming of a flamenco guitar. After twenty minutes a woman joined the guitarist, her clear, lilting voice lifting in song and sending chills throughout Aaron’s body. He had forgotten why he’d flown from Brazil to Mexico. He wanted the reason to be different from the fact that he would bury his father without having cleared his conscience, to let Oscar Spencer know how deeply he had hurt him. And if he had to sit across from Regina, he didn’t want it to be because she was his stepmother. He didn’t want to be reminded that she had and still belonged to his father—a man he had not forgiven for his deceit, not even in death.
    He finished the fish entree, dabbing his lips with a cloth napkin while watching his stepmother. There was a weariness about her that should not have been apparent with someone her age. And he wondered about that. She said his father had beenill for ten years, which meant she probably had been in her early twenties when she and Oscar had become involved with each other.
    How could she?
he mused. How could she sleep with a man old enough to be her father, possibly her grandfather? What was there about Oscar Spencer that young women could not resist? Had Oscar seduced her, or had Regina seduced him? There were a lot of questions he needed answers to with regard to Oscar and Regina’s marriage, but he decided they could wait.
    “Where did my father die?”
    She went completely still. It was the first time Aaron had mentioned Oscar, and she had to remind herself the reason she was meeting with Aaron Spencer was because Oscar had died.
    “He