Lovechild

“Fine,” Carstairs replied. “Nice to have you aboard, Gaston.”

When the other man was gone, a fresh bout of nerves attacked her system. Annoyed with herself for her response to Jacques’s presence, Liza took a deep, calming breath and released it, then turned to face him again. Marshaling her most businesslike voice, she said, “I’ll get right to the point, Jacques. There’s really no need for you to stay for this meeting. I’m sure you would find it to be a waste of your time. So, I—”

“A waste of my time?” he repeated. “Peter and Aimee tell me the work your committee does is very important.”

“It is, but—”

“Then, it would not be a waste of my time to help.”

“You would find it boring,” she insisted.

He smiled, the movement caused the dimple in his cheek to wink in a rakish way that had always made Liza’s pulse scatter. It did so again. “I doubt that I would find anything where you are concerned boring, ma chérie.”

“Please stop calling me that!”

“Ma chérie?”

“Yes,” Liza hissed, her nerves growing more frayed by the second.

“It means my darling—”

“I know what it means. Just please stop calling me that.” He had explained the endearment the first time they had made love. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, striving to regain her composure despite the pounding in her head. Opening her eyes, Liza stemmed the urge to massage her temples. “I’m sorry,” she said more calmly. “Seeing you today has been a bit of a shock.”

“For me as well,” he told her, his expression growing serious for the first time: “Those first few weeks after you had left and I could not find you, I was frantic. I was afraid I would never see you again. Later, once I realized you did not wish for me to find you,” he continued, his voice growing hard, void of the carefree and seductive charm, “I simply hoped I would not.”

Liza fought the urge to wince. She didn’t want his comment to hurt. She had prayed that if fate ever caused their paths to cross again, seeing him wouldn’t hurt.

The prayers hadn’t worked. She tucked the pain away, vowing to deal with it later—when she was alone. “I’ll give Aimee and Peter a call this evening and explain that everything is under control where the committee is concerned and have them release you from your promise to serve on the board.” She forced a smile that she knew was overbright and probably looked just as phony. It was the best she could manage at the moment. “Goodbye, Jacques,” she said. “And good luck.”

“At least this time you have managed to say goodbye.”

Liza sucked in her breath, feeling the slash of his words like a knife. “I guess I deserved that. Whether you believe me or not, I never meant to hurt you. In truth, I didn’t think my leaving could hurt you.”

“Well, you were wrong.”

At the hardness in his voice, Liza wondered not for the first time if she had made a mistake by following her instincts to flee as she had. But what else could she have done? The truth hadn’t been an option. It still wasn’t. Besides, it was far too late for second-guessing herself.

“No comment, Liza? You have always been quite good with words. Surely you have something more to say. Some explanation.”

She tipped up her chin, refusing to allow him to goad her like this. “What would be the point? I could tell you I’m sorry, but somehow I don’t think that would be enough.”

“You are right. Pretty words would not be enough. Especially not now. Not when I have discovered that despite the way you used me, the way you lied to me,” he said, his voice even more dangerous because it had dropped to a whisper. “Despite everything you have done, I still want you. I want you every bit as much now as I did three years ago. Perhaps more. Because this time I know what it will be like between us.”

A shiver of pleasure skittered down Liza’s spine, despite the fear his words evoked. It was a pleasure she couldn’t risk. “You don’t want me, Jacques. You want revenge because I bruised that oversized ego of yours by being the one to end things between us before you did. Well, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I’m not going to give you a chance for revenge. What we had was over a long time ago. It’s better if we forget it and just leave it in the past where it belongs.”

“But it is not in the past. We both know that.” He stepped a fraction closer. “The passion is still there between us, ma chérie, like the embers of a fire that have been fanned back to a hot blaze.”

“You’re wrong,” Liza said, swallowing.

“Am I?”

Her heart thudded in her chest as he moved another step closer. Liza had to fight the urge to step back. To do so would be a sign of weakness, would give credence to what he was saying. Instead she tipped up her chin and met his gaze. “Yes. You’re wrong.”

“I do not think so.” He smiled, causing the dimple in his cheek to wink at her again. “And despite your generous offer to free me from my promise to Aimee and Peter, I think I will decline. I will be here in your city for the next six weeks for my lecture series anyway, so I will work with you and your committee.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, grateful to hear the tap on the microphone and Robert calling the meeting to order.

“As you may remember, I generally do.” Smiling, Jacques reached out and traced his finger along the lapel of her jacket. “And it suits me that you and I will be seeing a lot of each other while I am working on your committee.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” she said, her voice flat as she stepped away from his touch.

“Ah, but I am counting on it, ma chérie. In fact, I am looking forward to it.”

Two

“Don’t forget, we’ll be sending out the invitations for the auction and dinner dance the first week of December,” Liza reminded the board members, while she carefully avoided looking at Jacques. But it didn’t stop her from being aware of him. How could she not be? Even without their past history, he would have been difficult to ignore. He had asked intelligent questions, offered good suggestions and had charmed the socks off the other board members. Or perhaps stockings was more appropriate, given the flurry of feminine interest that had buzzed through the room after Jacques had introduced himself.

“That means I’ll need each of you to get your lists of potential ticket buyers to me as soon as possible. Of course, no one here has to wait for an official invitation. We’ll be happy to take your order for tickets and your checks tonight. Remember, the more tickets we sell, the more money we raise for the summer camp for the kids.” Liza smiled despite the hammerlike pounding in her head. “Once again, I want to personally thank each of you for coming this evening and for all of your help and support. I’m looking forward to seeing each of you at the patron party next month.”

Chairs scraped across the tiled floor as the meeting disbanded. For the next ten minutes, Liza smiled and gratefully accepted ticket orders and checks.

“Great job, Liza,” Robert said fifteen minutes later as he handed her his own check for tickets. “Looks like we’re off to a good start. Just about everyone has committed to purchase a full table for the dinner. I’ve never seen this group so eager to part with their money before.”

“Let’s hope the rest of Chicago responds the same way.”

“They will,” he assured her. “With you in charge, I have no doubt about that.”

“Thank you.”

“What about my offer to buy you dinner? We could celebrate tonight’s advance sales with a good bottle of wine and a nice Chateaubriand.”

Guilt lanced through Liza as she realized she had been so distracted by Jacques’s presence that she’d forgotten all about Robert and his invitation to have dinner. “Would you mind terribly if I took a rain check? I was hoping to go over my notes for the patron party tonight. I’m meeting with the caterers tomorrow.”

“Of course not,” he said, but Liza could see the disappointment in his eyes. “Everything okay? You don’t seem yourself tonight.”

“Everything’s fine. I just have a monster headache and I’m afraid I’d be lousy company.”

“You couldn’t be lousy company even if you tried,” he said, his voice filled with affection and warmth. Lines of concern etched his handsome face. “But I think you’re pushing yourself too hard. Stop worrying about the patron party and the gala. It’s going to be a great success. What you need is a good night’s rest.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I know I am. Would you like me to drive you home? I can have your car sent to you in the morning.”

“No. I’ll be okay. But thanks anyway.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He gave her hand a light squeeze. “All right. Just let me have a quick word with Harvey Adams and then I’ll walk you to your car.”

What was wrong with her? Liza demanded silently as she watched him walk away. Robert Carstairs was everything she could want in a man—kind, patient and generous to a fault. Only a week ago she had convinced herself she was ready to take their friendship to the next level. After all, it had been more than three years since her affair with Jacques had ended—more than enough time to get over him. And she had thought she was over him.

Until he had walked through the door tonight. A shiver skipped down Liza’s spine as she recalled the heat in his eyes when he had told her he stilt wanted her. Then suddenly it was as though it was only yesterday that she’d been in his arms, wild with a hunger and need that only he seemed able to fill.

No! Liza screamed silently. Drawing a deep breath, she reached for the meeting files and began packing them away. She wouldn’t allow herself to fall into Jacques’s sensual trap again. She couldn’t. She had too much to lose—even more than she had when she’d run away three years ago.

The hum of voices grew around her, but Liza ignored them. Ordinarily she would have joined in the after-meeting chatter. She enjoyed these people, and a number of them were potential clients. In fact, she had even planned to follow up on several inquiries about her services as a fund-raiser. But not tonight, she told herself, as she retrieved another handful of folders from the table and stored them in her briefcase. Not when the shock of seeing Jacques again was still so fresh. Not when she was so keenly aware of his presence in the room. She’d have to face him again. Of that much she was sure. But not yet, not before she had figured out what to do.

“I think I’m in love.”

Liza looked up from the stacks of papers to Jane Burke, her friend and co-worker on the committee. At just over five feet, with jet black hair and dark eyes, Jane was her direct opposite in appearance and philosophy. The other woman was as reckless and romantic as Liza was cautious and pragmatic. Yet the two had become fast friends. “Again?” Liza asked casually, used to her friend falling in and out of love at the drop of a hat.

“Don’t be snide, Liza.”

“Who is it this time?”

“The committee’s new co-director, Jacques Gaston.” At the arch of Liza’s brow, she insisted, “This time it’s the real thing.”

“Need I remind you that’s what you said three weeks ago when you met that Bobby What’s-his-name from Texas?”

“I know.”

“And let’s not forget about Beauregard Jefferson Davis from Mississippi.”

Jane laughed, the sound light and carefree. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a fellow with an accent.” As if on cue, the deep rumble of Jacques’s voice carried across the room to them. “Who could blame me? Can you imagine what it would be like to hear him whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”

She didn’t have to imagine, Liza thought at the sound of the deep voice, heavily accented by his native French. Memories came rushing back to her of those nights she’d spent wrapped in his arms, listening to his stories about the vineyard in France where he’d lived as a boy. She had envisioned him easily, a handsome boy with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, racing through the vineyard, laughing as he swiped grapes from the vines and popped them into his mouth. For a short time during their brief affair, she had even been foolish enough to fantasize that the two of them would travel there together one day. She had so wanted to see the valleys he had described to her, the place he had painted for her so vividly with his words.

But that had been before she had realized that Jacques didn’t love her. That he would never permit himself to love her or any woman. And even worse that there was no place in his life or his heart for her love.

“I wonder if it’s true what they say about Frenchmen,” Jane murmured. “You know, about them being better lovers.”

Unbidden, Liza’s gaze followed her friend’s to where Jacques stood flanked by three of the female board members. One of the trio murmured something to him and Jacques tossed back his head and laughed. A swift pang shot through Liza and she jerked her gaze away. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be too anxious to find out—not if you still want marriage, motherhood and that white picket fence.”

“Why not?”

“Because unless he’s changed a great deal, you’ll never have any of those things with Jacques. He’s allergic to even the thought of marriage or commitment.” After all, she should know, Liza added silently.

Jane wrinkled her nose. “Don’t you know that no man ever wants to settle down? They fight it tooth and nail until the right woman comes along and changes their mind for them.”

“You make marriage sound like ... like taming a pet. Trust me, Jane. Jacques Gaston is no domestic house cat. And I wouldn’t count on changing his mind on the subject, either. There certainly have been enough women who’ve tried.” Not that she had been one of them. She had only wanted to love him and be loved by him. But even that had proved too much for Jacques.

“I didn’t realize you knew him so well,” Jane said, a curious gleam in her dark eyes.

“I don’t.” Despite the fact that they had been lovers, she had never really known Jacques. She had been too caught up in their passion to discover the sad, lonely man that had lain beneath the happy-go-lucky facade he presented to the world. Until it had been too late. “We met a few years ago in New Orleans while I was working for Aimee Gallagher. Jacques was one of her tenants.”

“So, then you two are old friends?”

“More like adversaries. We didn’t get along very well.” Except for that short time when they had been lovers. But even then, their relationship had remained volatile. And despite the fact that she had fallen in love with him, she and Jacques had never quite managed to become friends. If they had, perhaps things would not have ended as they did. “We still don’t.”

“Adversaries, huh? I guess that explains why he’s looking at you like a hungry cat eyeing a tasty little mouse.”

Liza looked up. Her eyes tangled with the tawny-colored ones staring back at her. For a moment she forgot to breathe. When Jacques winked, she jerked her gaze away. “Don’t read anything into it. Jacques takes his role as a Frenchman seriously. He thinks it’s his duty to flirt with any female from eight to eighty.”

Her friend gave her a speculative look, then went back to sorting papers. She handed Liza a pile of the agendas that had been scattered on the table. “Still, it sure would be interesting to find out if what they say about Frenchmen is true.”

“And just what is it they say about Frenchmen?” Jacques asked.

Liza whipped around. Her heart thundered in her chest.

Jane’s face split into a welcoming smile. “Why that they’re—”

“That they’re very...French,” Liza offered quickly, while struggling to keep the color from crawling up her cheeks. Noting the amused look in his eyes, Liza tipped up her chin. “Jacques, I’d like you to meet Jane Burke. Jane, Jacques Gaston.”

“Mademoiselle Burke.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. The other woman practically swooned.

“Jane is the person responsible for organizing the committee’s volunteers,” Liza continued, unsure which irritated her more, the dazzled expression on her friend’s face or Jacques’s easy charm. “I was explaining to Jacques earlier that it really wasn’t necessary for him to take Peter’s place on the board and suggested he might want to work with your group of volunteers.”

“Why, of course, we would love to have you work with our group, Mr. Gaston.”

“Jacques,” he corrected.

“Jacques,” she repeated, her face beaming. “And please, you must call me Jane.”

“A lovely name for a lovely lady,” Jacques said smoothly. “And I am sure you will understand, Jane, that as much as I would enjoy working with you, I believe my time would be better served working with Liza to ensure the success of the fund-raiser.”

“Why, of course I understand,” Jane agreed, her cheeks flushed. “And you’re right. Despite what Liza says, I know she can use your help—especially with Peter and Aimee both out of the picture.”

“Is that right?” Jacques shifted his gaze to Liza.

“Oh, yes,” Jane assured him and then launched into a list of the many details for which Liza was responsible all of which would certainly benefit from any help that Jacques would offer.

Resisting the urge to strangle both her friend and Jacques, Liza crammed the remaining meeting paraphernalia into her briefcase. She snapped it shut and removed it from the table. “If you’ll both excuse me, need to speak with Robert about the patron party before I leave.”

Ten minutes later, after declining Robert’s offer to see her to her car, Liza slipped out of the meeting room. At least she had managed to avoid another encounter with Jacques, she told herself as she walked down the hallway toward the exit. Judging by the way Ashley Hartmann had been clinging to his arm when she had seen him last, he would be fully occupied for the rest of the evening.

Not that it made any difference to her, Liza decided. After all, she and Jacques were history. What he did and who he did it with were of no concern to her.

Then why did the image of the redheaded divorcée laughing up at him and clutching at his sleeve leave such a foul taste in her mouth and an achy feeling in her chest?

Because you’re an idiot, Liza O’Malley. You always were, where Jacques was concerned. Frowning, Liza turned the corner and headed toward the elevators.

“Such a long face. Problem, ma chérie?”

Liza stopped. Her gaze shot over to where Jacques stood lounging against the wall next to the elevators. “Not at all,” she finally managed to say despite the rush of nerves that tightened like a knot in her stomach. Shifting her briefcase from one hand to the other, she continued over to the bank of elevators and pushed the button for the lobby. “I’m just surprised to see you leaving so early.” Or alone, she added silently.

“Why is that?”

“Well, since you’re so eager to serve on the committee’s board, I thought you would take advantage of this opportunity to become better acquainted with the other board members.” And Ashley Hartmann in particular.

“I would much prefer reacquainting myself with the committee’s fund-raising coordinator.”

The elevator arrived, saving her from the need to respond. Liza stepped inside the half-filled car, and Jacques followed. The doors slid shut, enclosing them in the small space. The short ride to the lobby suddenly seemed to stretch endlessly. Even with a half dozen other people inside the car, Liza couldn’t help being keenly aware of Jacques standing beside her. She could smell the scents of summer sunshine and damp clay, of pine woods and man—a unique mingling of scents that she had always associated with Jacques. And with the scents came back the memories—the feel of his hands shaping her, his mouth tasting and teasing.

Liza’s breath snagged in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory.

“Liza?”

At the sound of his voice, Liza opened her eyes immediately. Her body tense, she tightened her fingers around the handle of her briefcase.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” she said quickly.

Moments later when the elevator doors opened, she raced through them and out into the lobby.

“Liza, wait.”

She kept moving down the polished corridor, eager to reach the parking garage elevator and escape Jacques and the rush of memories plaguing her.

He gripped her arm, bringing her to a halt. Gently, too gently, he caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “What is wrong? Why do you run from me?”

“I’m not running from you,” she lied. “I have a headache, and I’m just anxious to get home.”

He hesitated, and Liza grew uncomfortable under his probing gaze. “Then I will take you home.” Still holding on to her arm, he took her briefcase from her and continued toward the parking garage elevators.

“I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary.”

“You are ill.”

“I have a headache,” she said, and tugged her arm free. “I promise you I can manage. Besides, I don’t live in the city. ‘Home’ is more than an hour’s drive outside of Chicago.”

“I do not mind the drive.”

“But I do.”

“I will see you to your car,” he insisted, following her into the garage elevator despite her protests.

“That really isn’t necessary.”

“I said I will see you to your car. Which floor?”

Under the harsh lighting of the elevator, his roughly hewed features and dark gold hair reminded her of a Viking warrior. The fact that he towered over her own considerable height only added to the image. But it was the determination in his leonine gaze that made her decide it was pointless to argue further. She punched the number three for her parking level.

Moments later when the doors opened, Liza stepped out into the cold, shadowed garage. Jacques walked beside her, his silence making her even more anxious. Finally she reached the dark blue sedan. “Well, this is it,” she said with more cheerfulness than she was feeling. After unlocking her car and allowing him to store her briefcase on the back seat, she turned to him. “Well, thanks again.”

“Aren’t you at least going to offer me a ride?”

“But I thought... What about your car?”

His mouth kicked up at the corners in what she had always considered his lady-killer grin. “I do not have one. Peter had someone meet me at the airport when I arrived this morning, and I took a taxi to the meeting. I have not yet called the rental agency.”

Liza narrowed her eyes. “And I suppose there’s a reason you can’t take another taxi now?”

“Perhaps I am still the struggling artist with big dreams and little money.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

The smile in his eyes died. So did the one on his lips. “No. It is not. I have done well since our time together in New Orleans. Perhaps if my fortunes had come sooner, you would not have chosen to leave me as you did.”

The words hurt, as did the bitterness she detected behind them, but Liza didn’t bother to deny his accusations. It was better he thought she had deserted him because of his lack of money than for him to know the truth.

“Now it seems fate has brought us together again. I am looking forward to working with you on this fund-raiser.”

Panic shot through her at his words. Liza’s gaze shot up to meet his. “Why are you doing this, Jacques? What are you up to?”

“Ah. I see you are still a suspicious soul.” Instead of the underlying bitterness she had detected moments earlier, she glimpsed an intensity in him that she found far more disturbing. “Surely two old friends such as you and I can work together.”

“We were lovers, Jacques. Not friends.”

“Yes. And you were a spectacular lover, ma chérie.” He moved a step closer, caging her between the car door and his body. He skimmed his thumb along the line of her cheek, across her bottom lip. “So responsive.”

Liza shivered, unable to quell her reaction to his touch, unable to look away.

“Did you think I had forgotten?” he asked, his voice rough with some emotion she couldn’t decipher. “I wanted to. God knows I tried to forget you. But I could not. Just as I cannot stop myself from wanting you now.” Heat flared in his eyes, turning them to molten gold.