Lovechild

by Metsy Hingle

  Liza blinked. “You spoke to Aimee and Peter?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?” She had been trying to reach the couple all weekend—without success.

  “Last night. They send their love by the way,” he added, smiling. “As I was saying, I understand from Aimee that when you take on a fund-raising project such as this one, it becomes your job until the project is completed. So there is no reason you must hurry back to your office. You are, in essence, working right now.”

  “There is every reason for me to get back to the office. There are dozens of things that still need to be taken care of, including the patron party in a few weeks.”

  “And I am sure you will handle them all without any trouble.” Jacques sank his fork into the creamy calorieladen confection and offered it to her.

  Ignoring his offering, Liza picked up the other fork and took a bite. She couldn’t taste a thing. It was a sin, she decided as she took a second bite, to ingest all these calories and not even enjoy them. And it was all Jacques’s fault—for making her question her decisions, for coming back into her life and stirring up old feelings, for making her want him again when she knew any relationship between them was impossible.

  “Peter tells me you are quite good at this raising of funds.”

  She pulled her gaze away from the sight of Jacques’s mouth as he savored the cheesecake. “I hope he’s right. The Art For Kids’ Sake is my biggest project so far.”

  “Peter is a good businessman. I am sure he would not have hired you if he did not think you could do the job.”

  Liza had to grin at that. “Oh, I think it’s safe to say Aimee may have twisted his arm a bit.”

  Jacques shook his head. “No. Not if Peter did not agree with her. Peter can be quite stubborn when it comes to business.”

  “Yes,” Liza agreed, remembering the rough time her friend had gone through before Peter had been able to accept the fact that Aimee truly loved Peter for himself. It had been during that bumpy period, when Jacques had proven himself to be a true friend to Aimee, that Liza had found herself falling in love with Jacques. “Peter’s the one who suggested I go out on my own and sell my skills as a professional fund-raiser.”

  “When was that?”

  “Almost three years ago.”

  “So this is where you came when you left New Orleans?”

  “Yes.” Liza broke off another bite of cheesecake. She concentrated on swirling her fork in the glazed topping on the plate to avoid looking at Jacques. The last thing she wanted to talk about was New Orleans and the reason she had left the city and him. “When I first moved here, I got a job soliciting money for a charitable organization. I was pretty good at it. Then later when I had to take time off for the—”

  Her stomach pitched when she realized just how much she had come close to revealing. Liza put down her fork and brought her hand to her lap to hide her trembling fingers. “Later, Peter suggested I try selling my services as a fund-raiser to other companies and organizations. Last year when he and Aimee came up with The Art For Kids’ Sake project, he hired me as its fund-raiser.”

  “Neither he nor Aimee ever told me you were here.” Something dark and angry shimmered in his eyes. “They claimed not to know where you were.”

  “They didn’t—not at first. When they found out I was here I asked them not to tell you.”

  “Why?” Jacques demanded, his voice hard with emotion and making his accent more pronounced.

  “Because it was time for us to move on. We wanted different things,” she reminded him, remembering how shattered she had been that last night when she had finally accepted that they could never have any future together. That she could never share with him the wonderful gift he had given her.

  “Yes. I remember. Where you are concerned, there is little I do not remember. For instance, I remember that last time we were together you told me you loved me. You even talked about marriage, children.”

  “And you made it clear that you weren’t interested in any of those things.” Jacques’s rejection had crushed her. Not even her ex-husband’s betrayal and the dissolution of her marriage had shattered her so badly. Even three years later, the memory still hurt.

  “Is that why you left, chérie? Is it because I did not offer to marry you?”

  “No. That’s not why I left. You were always honest with me, Jacques. I knew from the beginning that you weren’t in love with me and that you weren’t interested in anything permanent like marriage.”

  “I cared for you, Liza. I still do.” He caught her hand, brought it to his lips.

  All the old feelings came back to her in a rush, making her remember what it had been like to be in his arms, making her want to be there again, making her wish she could tell him the truth.

  “What we had was very special. We can have that again. I will be here until Christmas. We can—”

  “Do what, Jacques? Resume our affair?”

  What looked like regret flickered in his eyes, sending any hope she’d been harboring to a swift death. Liza pulled her hand free.

  “I explained to you my reasons for vowing never to marry. I had hoped you would understand. You would have my affection and my fidelity. I have nothing more in me to give.”

  “Because you believe all those horrid lies your father told you,” she tossed back. Anger ripped through her at the thought of the man who had poisoned his son’s mind and heart. “You still believe you carry some sort of dark gene inside you and that makes you afraid to love anyone.”

  The warmth in his eyes dissolved, reminding Liza of those winter days when not even the sun could penetrate the bitter cold that blanketed the city. He leaned forward, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Believe me, Liza, such darkness does exist. I have seen firsthand the pain it can cause. While I want you, as I have never wanted another, I refuse to risk passing that darkness inside me on to another—not even for you,”

  Liza wanted to scream. She remained silent instead and buried any second thoughts she had been having about telling Jacques the truth. He would hate her and himself if he were to learn the real reason she had left him, the reason she had to walk away from him now. “But that’s not the reason we’re here, is it? We’re here to decide on the menu. Do you have any preference on the dessert?”

  Jacques sighed and leaned back in his seat. “The cheesecake.”

  “I agree. I’ll let Mr. Newberry know what we’ve decided on.” Liza stood, eager to get away and regain the emotional ground she had lost. “And I’d appreciate it if you would make some suggestions on what wines to serve. Mr. Newberry can let you know what type of budget we have to work with.”

  “Liza, wait.”

  “I really do have to get back to my office, Jacques.”

  “Then I will take you,” he said determinedly.

  She started to argue, but didn’t bother when she saw that stubborn set of his jaw. Too emotionally drained to argue further, she allowed him to steer her to the catering office to finalize the arrangements.

  Forty-five minutes later when they exited the hotel’s restaurant, Liza welcomed the sting of cold air that greeted her. She handed the valet the ticket for her car, then turned to face Jacques. “Thanks for your input with the menu and the suggestions on the wine,” she said, eager to keep things on a business footing.

  “We both know that you did not need my help with the menu and it is not the reason I came.” He smiled. “You are.”

  Liza’s heart did a flutter kick and she glanced away from the devilish grin. “All the same I appreciate your help,” she managed to say coolly while silently chiding the valet for taking so long with her car.

  Jacques fingered the lapels of her wool coat, pulling up the collar. He caressed her cheek with his finger, forcing her to face him. “Stop fighting me, Liza. Stop fighting yourself. Why not enjoy each other while we can?”

  “I can’t”

  “Why not?”

  Liza looked up into his eyes. “Because...bec
ause there’s someone else.”

  Four

  “I do not believe you,” Jacques said, his voice hard. “You are not in love with Carstairs.”

  “No, I’m not. But it’s not Robert I was referring to. It’s...it’s someone else.”

  Jealousy clawed at him, making him feel as though he couldn’t breathe. “Who?” he demanded, grabbing her arm. Liza looked down at the fingers circling her arm, and Jacques released her at once, appalled by his actions. “Tell me his name.”

  “You...you don’t know him.”

  Jacques narrowed his eyes, noting the slight tremor in her fingers as she continued to clench and unclench the strap of her purse and the way she refused to meet his gaze. He’d never known Liza to fidget. That unflappable calm of hers was as much a part of her as her blond beauty. In all the time he’d known her, only twice had she shown any signs of anxiety—the night she had decided they would become lovers and the last night they were together. In both instances she had been nervous about something, holding something back.

  She was holding something back now. He was sure of it. She was every bit as tense now as she’d been that last night before she’d left him. Why? Jacques wondered. He’d known Liza had secrets and had sensed from the beginning that she’d been running from something in her past. Since he had spent a lifetime trying to escape from his own dark secrets, he’d never pressed her for details. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps he still should.

  The valet driver pulled up to the curb and hopped out of the car. After tipping him, Jacques opened the door for Liza. Silence stretched between them as he watched her slide onto her seat and strap herself in with the seat belt. With his arms resting on the open door and roof of the car, he leaned down to look at her face.

  “Goodbye, Jacques,” she said, obviously waiting for him to move so she could close the door.

  He didn’t budge. “Things are not over between us, Liza. You and I both know that.”

  “I told you, there’s someone else.”

  “And I told you, I do not believe you.”

  “Then that’s your problem. Not mine. Now, if you don’t mind, I want to leave.” She tipped up her chin haughtily and stared straight ahead.

  “Ah, but I do mind, chérie. I mind very much. If there is another man, he is no more your lover than Carstairs is.”

  “And how would you know that?” she demanded.

  Jacques grinned, which, judging from the tightening of her lips, only angered her more. “I know because nothing has changed between you and me. If there were another man, you would not still want me. And you do want me, Liza, just as I want you.” He brought his face closer to hers, watched the awareness register in her eyes. “Nothing can change the fact that the fire is still there between us. Accept it, Liza. I have. Do not deny us this second chance that fate has offered us.”

  Jacques started to kiss her, but Liza whipped her head to the side, causing his lips to feather her hair instead of her mouth. “Fate had nothing to do with our meeting each other again and you know it. This is all Aimee’s doing.”

  “Fate takes many forms,” Jacques informed her. “You and I were destined to be lovers, Liza. We will be lovers again. You only lie to yourself if you think otherwise.”

  Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m amazed that you can get your head through the door with that ego of yours.”

  Jacques eased back and sighed. “It is not ego, ma chérie. I am simply stating what we both know is true.”

  “And I hate to burst that bubble of yours, Jacques. But you’re deluding yourself. I told you, there’s someone else.”

  “Then who is he?”

  “You don’t know him,” she said, her voice filled with exasperation.

  “Is it that I do not know him? Or is it that he does not exist?”

  She looked up at him then. Her eyes were dark with an emotion he couldn’t identify, with a vulnerability he had only caught glimpses of in the past. “Oh, he exists, all right.” A bittersweet smile curved her lips. “He’s very real. You can take my word for it.”

  But he wouldn’t take her word for it, Jacques decided as he stepped back and watched Liza drive away. She was lying, he told himself, biting back the niggling doubt that had begun to gnaw its way into his consciousness, when he’d heard the conviction in her voice. She had to be lying. He had known enough women to recognize the difference between a response that was genuine and one that was fake. And Liza’s response to him when they had kissed, the desire he had seen in her eyes, had been very real indeed. He was sure of it. He could feel it in his gut.

  No, there was no other man. He had known that first time they had made love that no other man had tapped the passion in her that she kept so well hidden—not even her ex-husband. Just as there had never been any other woman who could make him feel as Liza did.

  Liza was wrong if she thought things were over between them. They weren’t. The two of them would be lovers again, Jacques promised himself as he watched the taillights of her car wink before she exited the building. It was fate.

  Fate.

  Jacques considered the word and the impact that it had had on his life. Retrieving the ticket for his rental car from his pocket, he made his way to the valet. He handed the stub to the young man. Frowning, Jacques considered Liza’s response to his statement about fate. Perhaps Liza didn’t believe in fate, but he certainly did. After all, it had been fate that had cursed him to be born with Gaston blood in his veins. And it had been the knowledge of the darkness that flowed through him that had made him vow to end the curse with himself.

  It had been fate that had given Liza to him once and it had been fate that had brought her to him again. And she would be his again—at least for a while. And when they parted again, he would finally know peace. There would be no more sleepless nights lying awake hungering for a cool blonde with green eyes that sparkled and skin that smelled like gardenias. When they parted next time, he would be free.

  “In addition to the centerpieces, I thought we could sprinkle some of these little red and green confetti Christmas trees along the center of the table,” Liza explained to the florist. She held up the packages of metallic confetti cutouts that she had found in a craft store.

  “Good idea. These will pick up the colors in the floral arrangements and add to the festive tone of the room.” The other woman made a notation in her book. “Now what about the Christmas tree? Is there a particular kind you prefer? Frazier fir? Blue spruce? Scotch pine—”

  “The biggest one you can find.”

  Liza stiffened at the sound of Jacques’s voice. A shiver of awareness tripped down her spine as he walked across the room and joined her at the conference room table.

  “If memory serves me correctly, Ms. O’Malley likes the tip of the tree to touch the ceiling,” Jacques announced to the florist.

  Liza swallowed at his reference to the first and only Christmas that they had shared together and her insistence that they purchase a tree that had been far too large for her small apartment. But it had been a magical time, a time for miracles, for new beginnings. She had been wildly in love with Jacques. During those months they were together, he had helped to free her from the sense of failure that had plagued her since her divorce. He had made her feel like a woman again. And although he hadn’t given her his love as she’d hoped, he had given her something far more precious. A miracle that she had never thought to know.

  “Well, I’m not sure about touching the ceiling,” Emily Robbins, the owner of Emily’s Flower Gardens said. “But I did get in several large blue spruces that might come close.”

  Liza pulled herself back to the present. “Actually, the hotel’s already agreed to provide a Christmas tree for the ballroom, Emily. So we won’t need to worry about one for the gala.” Offering a smile that she knew was far too stiff, Liza turned to greet Jacques. “Jacques, this is Emily Robbins, the proprietor of Emily’s Flower Gardens. She’s handling the floral arrangements for the gala.
Emily, this is Jacques Gaston, one of the committee’s co-directors.”

  In typical Jacques fashion, he kissed Emily’s hand. “My pleasure, Mademoiselle Robbins. Sorry I am late for our meeting,” he told the florist. “Evidently I failed to make a note about the change of place and went to your shop by mistake. Your lovely assistant reminded me we were meeting here at Liza’s office.”

  Liza caught the mocking note in his voice. He knew darn well there had been no mistake. She hadn’t bothered to notify him until the last minute about the change on this meeting or the other two appointments that she had rescheduled. As a result, she had successfully avoided seeing or speaking with Jacques for more than a week.

  Evidently, her luck had just run out.

  “Oh it’s no problem,” Emily Robbins replied. “And please, call me Emily.”

  Liza narrowed her eyes at the sudden warmth in the other woman’s voice. What had happened to the tough-as-nails businesswoman she had been negotiating with on prices for the past several months? While the woman hadn’t been cold, she hadn’t been exactly friendly. Judging by the look on Emily Robbins’s face at the moment, the thirtysomething, no-nonsense entrepreneur had just fallen victim to the Jacques Gaston charm.

  “Would you like me to go over the selections that Liza and I have already made?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Liza informed the florist, slightly miffed by the offer. “I’ll bring Mr. Gaston up to speed on our meeting at another time.”

  “But I really don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure you don’t. But as I said, it isn’t necessary.”

  “Liza is right,” Jacques told the florist, favoring her with another of his engaging smiles. “I have complete faith in you two lovely ladies. I am sure whatever you and Liza have decided will be perfect.”

  Liza bit back her irritation at the other woman’s beaming expression. “I know how busy you are, Emily, so I won’t take up any more of your time. Thanks again for agreeing to meet me here on such short notice.”