Harlequin Superromance February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: His Forever GirlMoonlight in ParisWife by Design

by Liz Talley

A pain unlike anything she’d ever experienced sliced through her and lodged in her chest.

  * * *

  “NO.”

  Garrett read the word on Tara’s lips, and watched the question in her eyes dissolve into anguish. Her look speared him from across the room, but he ignored the warning and moved closer.

  “Monsieur Hughes, I advise you to leave, and take your girlfriend with you.” The threat was evident in Martin’s tone. “I have lost my patience with you both.”

  “Give me a minute, will you?” Garrett shot a look the man’s way, but continued moving toward Tara, needing to touch her, hold her. Her look chilled him and, with every step, the wall of ice between them grew thicker.

  “Tara,” he said gently. “I can explain. You just need to hear me out.” He held out his hand, but she stepped around him, out of reach.

  “You...both—” her eyes darted from him to her father “—should be ashamed.”

  The words brought an eerie moment of silence to the room, and then Martin sneered. “Her mother spread her legs easily,” he said in French. “The daughter of the whore should be ashamed. And you have had your minute. Now go say goodbye to your Soulard beer.”

  A double helix of anger and frustration spiraled through Garrett, twisting everything in its path. “I didn’t tell her. I kept my word.” He bit out the words through clenched teeth. “Tara, tell him how you found him.”

  “Mama got your address from one of her sorority sisters at Murray.” Tara addressed Martin with her chin lifted, but the defiant pose couldn’t mask the hurt brimming in her eyes. “I should’ve listened to her. Coming here was a mistake.” With a dismissive toss of her head, she stalked toward the door.

  “Wait, Tara,” Garrett called after her, but she ignored him. He would run to catch up in a minute, but first he would have his say.

  Garrett locked gazes with Martin and dared him to look away. “You’ve just thrown away what would’ve been the best thing to ever happen to you, Monsieur Martin. Something that would’ve given depth to your shallow existence.” He pointed to the closing door. “And you may think you’re all big and powerful because you can crush Soulard for no reason. But nothing you have makes you deserving of Tara. She was a gift of love, and unlike that one—” he nodded toward Yvette “—wanted nothing but love in return.”

  He left, keeping his dignity until the office door closed. Then he broke into a jog.

  Tara wasn’t in the corridor, as he’d expected, nor was she anywhere in sight. He ran through the lobby, looking this way and that. People stared at him as he jostled past groups and bumped into those standing in his way.

  Where was she? His gut clenched into a knot. How could she have disappeared so quickly?

  He exited the building at full speed and spotted her standing at the curb. “Tara!”

  She ignored him and waved at an approaching taxi. It swept by her, giving him a chance to catch up.

  He touched her shoulder and felt her flinch. When she spun around, he could see the wetness on her cheeks, and the accusation in her eyes made him flinch in return.

  “How could you, Garrett?” She ran her hand through the top of her hair, sweeping off the band that was keeping the curls back. They sprang loose in a wild riot around her face that animated her speech as she punched a finger in his direction. “How could you do this to me?”

  He caught her hand in midair. “I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.” She winced, and he realized he’d squeezed her injured hand. He loosened his grip, and she jerked her hand from his. “When I found Martin, he didn’t want to meet you. In fact, he threatened to ruin Soulard if I didn’t keep you away.”

  “And you didn’t tell me? Why?” She pinned him with narrowed eyes.

  “I should have.”

  “But you didn’t. Why?”

  “I was concerned, if we ever broke up, you might retaliate by going to him anyway....” He shrugged, refusing to dig himself any deeper into the ridiculous hole he’d started.

  Her look was incredulous. “You really think I could ever be that vindictive? That I would try to ruin your career over a failed relationship? What kind of person do you think I am?”

  “I didn’t think. I reacted like I would’ve with Angie.”

  “Because Angie and I are so much alike...with the tattoos and piercings and all.” She shook her head in disgust and a deep breath shook her chest.

  Garrett pressed on, wanting to get the whole story out so she’d have a clear picture. “Martin refused to see you, but I thought, if he could just meet you, he’d fall in love with you like I have.” Her eyes filled with tears again, but she didn’t say anything. “So I arranged for him to meet us in the park, and I gave him my word I would leave it up to him to contact you.”

  Her chin quivered and Garrett felt the tremor deep inside. “But he didn’t contact me.” She sniffed, fighting the tears. “And he wasn’t going to, was he? Why? Would I be so terrible to claim as a daughter?”

  “It’s not you, baby.” Garrett laid his hands on her shoulders and leaned down until his eyes and hers were even. “It’s his wife. The receptionist.” Tara frowned, but understanding dawned through the shimmer of her tears. “He’s giving money to two other out-of-wedlock children. His wife, who is his third and younger than you, by the way, is jealous the kids are taking too much of his wealth. She threatened divorce if it happened again.”

  “So the freak had a price tag attached.” Tara wiped a hand down her face.

  “What does that mean? You lost me.”

  She cut her eyes away and waved her hand. “Never mind.”

  He slid his grip down her arms and attempted to pull her into a hug, but she shook her head and pulled away. “So you were going to let me go home...go on for the rest of my life...never knowing I’d met my birth father?”

  “I thought he would come around eventually, and that, until then, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Augh!” The sadness in her eyes morphed into anger. “How could you do that? You took the choice away from me, and gave it to him. And neither of those choices was yours to make.”

  Her logic made his own seem horribly flawed in hindsight. “I’m sorry. I screwed up.”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “How did you find him, anyway? This address wasn’t on my list.”

  His promise to Henri flashed through Garrett’s mind. Damn it! “I can’t tell you. I promised I wouldn’t because it could get someone in a lot of trouble.”

  Her eyebrows shot up, and it seemed as if her face became all eyes. “Ah! More knowledge about my father that I can’t be trusted with.” She threw her hands in the air, which brought a taxi to a screeching halt at the curb beside her.

  When she jerked the door open, Garrett moved to join her, but she blocked the way, shaking her head. “No, Garrett. I need to be alone.”

  “We haven’t finished talking.” He held the door as she climbed in, his jaws aching with tension.

  “We have for now.” She pulled the door closed, and he heard the lock snap.

  The sound caught in his ear, its finality jarring loose memories that ran a shudder up his spine.

  He touched his phone, poised for the text message he feared might follow in the taxi’s wake.

  None came.

  He raised his hand to hail a taxi, wondering whether Tara was going home or if she was headed somewhere else.

  They would talk later when they both had clearer heads.

  Right then, he needed to get back and talk to his bosses at Soulard and hope he hadn’t signed a death sentence for the company.

  * * *

  TARA HELD HER COMPOSURE fairly well as the taxi careened through the streets of Paris. She didn’t go back to her flat. Couldn’t. Not yet.

  The hurt she felt woul
dn’t let her listen to Garrett’s explanation again right then. Wouldn’t let her get into what was sure to bloom into an argument in front of Dylan.

  Tears glided from her eyes, but she held in the sobs.

  The taxi dropped her off at the Tuileries—the gardens adjacent to the Louvre. The place brimmed with people, but she felt protected in her anonymity. Everyone here had cried at one time or another, and she likely wasn’t the only one crying there even at that moment.

  She found a small space at the end of a crowded bench and allowed the tears to continue falling, confident they weren’t too noticeable behind her large sunglasses.

  They slowed, and while she wasn’t feeling better, she at least got her breathing under some control. So when the phone rang and she saw it wasn’t Garrett but her dad, she answered with a modicum of confidence that she could handle this conversation.

  Boy, was she wrong.

  “Hi, lovebug.”

  Just the sound of her dad’s voice brought all of the wicked pain to the surface.

  “Oh, Daddy...” She cried, channeling her inner four-year-old with giant sobs that garnered looks of curiosity and pity from the people near her. “Jacques Martin didn’t want anything to do with me. Told me to get out. And his wife called me a fr-fr-freak.”

  “Hey...hey,” the familiar, gentle voice soothed across the line. “Calm down. It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay,” she blubbered. “Nothing’s okay. Garrett found him a week ago, but he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me how. And then he set up a secret meeting between Jacques and me, but he didn’t trust me enough to tell me the man I met was my father. He left it all to Jacques...who doesn’t want me.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m not following all this, but it sounds like you’ve been treated badly. Just tell me how I can help.”

  “You can’t. Nobody can. My birth father doesn’t want anything to do with me, and the man I’m in love with doesn’t trust me.”

  “But we love you. Your family...your friends...your students. The people here love you and trust you. You’re in a strange place with strange people, but your life is back here. Nothing about the way we feel about you has changed.”

  That made her cry harder.

  Tension infused her dad’s voice when he spoke again. “Tell you what...I’m going to have your mom call you, okay? I think she might be better over the phone than I am.”

  “O-okay. Isn’t she there?”

  “No, she’s at Mom’s. I’ll call her right now and have her call you, okay? It’ll just take a couple of minutes.”

  “Okay. Th-thanks, Dad.”

  “Love you, baby.”

  “I know.” She broke down sobbing again, words not coming in response to her dad’s goodbye. She waved pitifully, knowing he couldn’t see her, but wishing he was there.

  When her phone rang again, she answered her mom’s call with another loud sob.

  * * *

  FAITH’S HEART ACHED AS only a mother’s could.

  If she could’ve gotten her hands on Jacques Martin at that moment, she could’ve easily rendered him incapable of fathering any more children with just a few twists—and thoroughly enjoyed herself in the process.

  She didn’t pass judgment on Garrett for his part in this. It sounded as if he’d tried, though his attempts to help were obviously misguided.

  She cried in sympathy for Tara’s disappointment and hurt and for her own frustration that this was not in the realm of things she could kiss and make all better.

  As Tara talked, her desolate tone chilled Faith’s soul. It wasn’t fair that Garrett was involved. Her daughter needed someone’s arms around her.

  She needed someone’s arm around her, too. She longed for Sawyer’s quiet calm.

  “And he actually threatened Garrett’s company?” Faith broke into Tara’s lengthy blow-by-blow of what had happened, incredulous at the extent of Jacques Martin’s vindictiveness. Obviously, life had changed the pleasant young man who always had a smile for everyone.

  Tara, who seemed calmer now and could put several sentences together without her breath snubbing, filled in missing details of the backstory.

  As Faith listened, a noise outside pulled her attention to the window.

  Sawyer had pulled into the driveway.

  Bless him! He knew she needed him, and he’d come to be with her.

  The ache in her chest eased, knowing in a few minutes she wouldn’t be alone. He would be in here with her. Would hold her. Comfort her. And together they would lift Tara up and hold her from across the distance.

  This was it. This horrible incident was the catalyst meant to reunite them.

  Healing would begin. Maybe already had begun.

  Then she noticed what she hadn’t before.

  Sawyer hadn’t pulled into the driveway. He’d backed in.

  She watched in disbelief as he got out of the truck and gingerly hooked up the trailer to his bass boat.

  He was going fishing!

  At a time like this? When she needed him? Knowing that she and Tara both needed him?

  He made quick work of the task as Tara continued to talk. Faith only added supportive, guttural phrases, “uh-huh...right,” at the appropriate lulls.

  Sooner than she could’ve imagined, he pulled out of the drive, bass boat in tow.

  Tara’s story gave an excuse to cry openly, so she did.

  But she cried not only for her daughter now, but also for herself.

  Sawyer’s action this time, even more than his inability to make love to her, screamed the message she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge but which came through now with horrible clarity.

  Their marriage was over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE LAST TIME GARRETT had endured a day this bad was when Angie died.

  For the past five hours since leaving Jacques Martin’s office, he’d been sequestered with the cadres supérieurs, the upper management at Soulard, who’d brought in the president-directeur général after one hour. And a couple of hours later, the owners had been pulled in via teleconference from Brussels.

  When all was said and done, they’d decided to do nothing at this point. The initial panic that stemmed around the possible identity of Martin’s powerful friends gave way to logic that there was simply no way of knowing who these people were without confronting the man himself. That idea was vetoed because it would push the power in Martin’s direction. Plus there was always the chance he would come to his senses and not do anything.

  Garrett’s gut told him otherwise.

  But for now, a wait-and-see attitude had been adopted.

  The construction worker in Garrett’s brain had a jackhammer running full bore as he made his way home. His temples throbbed, his throat ached, he was starved, and talking with Tara was still on the agenda.

  He did get to utter his one bit of good news to Henri’s pale expression when his friend met him at his apartment door. “You can relax, Henri. I told them a private investigator found Martin for me, which isn’t a lie. You did your investigation in private. That subject never came up again.”

  Henri’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Merci beaucoup, Garrett. I also spoke with Tara when she got home. I told her the truth about generating the list.”

  “Thanks, man.” Garrett shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the couch. “And thanks for watching Dylan—was he good for you?”

  “Dylan is always good for me. He played with the new puppy downstairs, ate a good dinner and fell asleep quickly.”

  “And Tara? How is she?”

  Henri tilted his head with a shrug. “Sad.”

  Garrett glanced across the terrace. “Better than angry, I suppose.” The lights of her flat were still on.

 
“I am not so sure of that.” Henri’s look was guarded and fretful, and neither boded well for what lay in store. “So tell me...what is the plan at Soulard?”

  Garrett pressed his fingers into his forehead and rubbed hard. “It’s difficult to know what to do because we don’t know what direction Martin’s strike will come from, if it comes at all. So, for now, we’re going to sit tight and not do anything.”

  Henri’s pursed lips curved down at the corners. “I suppose that is all we can do.” His eyelids drooped with exhaustion. The past few hours had been hell for him, as well.

  “Go on home, Henri.” Garrett clapped his friend’s back, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll get Tara to talk with me here or on the terrace.”

  “You are certain she will?”

  “No,” he answered honestly. “But, if she’ll talk to me at all, we need to be alone.”

  “Je comprends.” Henri laid his suit coat gingerly over his arm. “Bon chance, mon ami. À demain.”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Garrett saw him out and then wasted no time heading for Tara’s.

  She evidently had been watching for him because she came out on the terrace and met him halfway. He hoped that was a good sign, but one glance at her red, swollen eyes told him it wasn’t.

  The pounding jackhammer shifted into high.

  Her rigid stance, with her arms locked across her chest as if it were freezing out rather than ninety degrees, held no welcome, and the hug he’d wished for didn’t come, so he shoved his hands into his pockets for lack of anything better to do and waited for her to begin the conversation. Giving her control of the situation was a must, even though it went against every fiber of his being.

  The fact was he’d gone behind her back, good intentions notwithstanding. He had to face the consequences.

  “Henri told me what he did.” Her voice was quiet and low, her tone calm. “How he found my fa—Jacques Martin. I’m grateful for the lengths you both went to, and I’m sorry my actions put Soulard in jeopardy. If I’d had any inkling, I wouldn’t have gone to see him.”

  Garrett pulled his hands from his pockets, opening his arms to her. But she ignored the gesture, so he rested them on his hips. “I should’ve told you everything. Should’ve leveled with you from the start.”