by Sandra Field
“The finishing touch,” he said with a wolfish grin.
“Whatever you buy, I’m not going to keep,” she said, hands on her hips.
“You haven’t seen it yet. So how do you know? And I’m certainly not going to return it the next day—so you might be stuck with it.”
“You drive me crazy—you know that?”
“It’s entirely mutual,” Judd replied.
She looked at him through her lashes. “Wow—finally we have something in common.”
“Oh, we have more than that in common,” he said, his gaze skimming her body. “Here we are.”
In Vaison’s the level of personal attention Judd received was again an eye-opener for Lise. He showed the swatch of fabric, made a quick sketch of the neckline of her dress, and said, “A pendant, I think. Something simple. Emeralds and sapphires, perhaps?”
“I believe we have just the thing, monsieur.”
The pendant brought from the vault was a single faceted emerald flanked by two sapphires, the stones inset in gold and hung from a delicate gold chain. Lise, beyond speech, again looked at herself in the mirror and knew intuitively that it was the perfect jewelery for her gown. Emerald earrings were produced; as the salesman retreated to the vault again, she hissed, “Judd, you can’t do this! What am I going to do—wear them when I’m grooming a dog? Or cleaning out cages? You mustn’t! You’ve spent far too much money already.”
“The dress needs jewelery,” he said inflexibly. “You can sell them afterward. It’ll help pay for your course.”
“You can’t give them to me! I won’t let you.”
“The women who come here generally don’t argue with the men who—Lise, what’s wrong?”
She was near tears. “This is a travesty,” she said incoherently. “I really hate it, Judd.”
“Travesty of what?” he demanded.
“Of what gift giving should be. Two people who care for each other choosing something the other will like. It’s not one-sided. It’s nothing to do with money and power. Don’t you see?”
“Don’t you like the pendant?”
“I love it. But that’s not the point.” As the salesman approached, she muttered, “Never mind. I knew you wouldn’t understand,” and stood by mutely as the jewels were wrapped and paid for. After Judd again requested delivery, he and Lise went outside. “I made a hair appointment for you at Gautier’s, two-thirty,” he said. “They’ll give you a manicure as well.”
People jostled her on the sidewalk; the sky was a heavy gray, the air milder and thick with rain to come. Lise felt very tired. She said, “I’ve had enough of this. More than enough. I’m going to walk home, I need to be alone for a while. But I’ll be there for Emmy at lunchtime.”
“Lise,” Judd said deliberately, “about the pendant. Seeing you at home with Emmy, whose life you saved, is gift enough for me. Watching the two of you play in the snow or share a joke together…nothing you could buy me can equal that. And emeralds are nothing in comparison.”
She gazed at him in silence. She wanted to bawl her head off, she wanted to scream and yell and stamp her feet; as if she were three years old, not twenty-eight. “I— I’ll see you this evening,” she muttered.
“I want you to know something else. It’s very clear to me—it always has been—that you’re not one bit interested in my money.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I like that. Very much.”
The wind ruffled his black hair; his smile made her heart melt. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “The way we were in bed—that had absolutely nothing to do with money.”
“I may be like a bull in a china shop where you’re concerned, but I did understand that much.”
“I can’t imagine why I said that. This is a crazy conversation.”
“Maybe it’s a real conversation.”
As she made an indecipherable sound, Judd rested his hands on the shoulders of her jacket. “The pendant—I want you to keep it, Lise. Three stones, an emerald and two sapphires. Think of Emmy and you and me—there might so easily have been no emerald.”
But you and I—we’re not a couple. We’re not a matched pair of sapphires. “Oh,” she said.
“Will you keep it? It’s important to me that you do.”
Her green eyes were full of confusion. “I—I guess so.”
He kissed her swiftly on both cheeks. “Good. Off you go, or you’ll be late for lunch, and I’ll miss my conference call.”
He turned, walking back in the direction of the parked limo. Lise set off the other way. Just when she had Judd all figured out, he said something that threw her, that made her see him in a different light. As a result of which, she’d just accepted a hugely expensive gift from a man who didn’t know she was carrying his child. She was purposely deceiving him, and simultaneously accepting jewels of a beauty and extravagance beyond her imagining.
Jewels and gratitude, she thought with painful honesty. That was all Judd was offering her. Along with a healthy dose of lust.
He wasn’t offering love. Or commitment.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AT EIGHT o’clock that evening Lise was dressed and ready for the gala. She and Emmy had shared supper on a tray in Lise’s room, and Emmy was now curled up on Lise’s bed along with Plush; the bear Angeline had given her was conspicuous by its absence. As Lise put the finishing touches to her makeup, Emmy said with undoubted sincerity, “You look like a fairy princess.”
The one who gets the prince? But the prince didn’t want her. Or, at least, only in his bed.
Maybe, just maybe, this dress would change his mind?
The thought had come from nowhere. I don’t want Judd, Lise thought in panic. I don’t love him. Of course I don’t.
Or do I? Would I give a hundred pendants to have him hold me in his arms and tell me he loves me?
She dragged her attention to the mirror. Her hair was piled high on her head, exposing the creamy length of her throat; the dress fit her like a glove, its shimmer of dark greens and blues subtly emphasizing the deep green of her eyes. The pendant glittered above her cleavage, while the earrings sparkled and shone. She looked poised and very elegant.
The poise was fake.
But the dress was real. Could it, perhaps, make Judd look at her with new eyes? Eyes that went deeper than her body?
The body that was carrying his child. She didn’t want her baby to be fatherless; she herself had loved her father deeply, and had missed his steadfast presence for years. So was that it? She wanted Judd simply so her child would have a father?
With her usual incurable honesty, Lise knew she was evading the truth. She wanted Judd for himself. Body and soul. She wanted his ardor, his tenderness, his laughter and intensity. For herself. As well as for her child. So was that love?
Emmy said with a pleasurable shiver, “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Lise’s gaze jerked back to the little girl on the bed. “I— I was daydreaming.”
“I bet my dad will think you look like a princess, too.”
“Your mother will outshine me, Emmy.”
“But you’re nicer,” Emmy said naively.
Lise fought down a smile. “Thank you for putting the pendant on for me,” she said; she’d found the clasp too intricate to manage on her own.
“It’s jazzy. Dad must like you a lot to give it to you.”
Lise said gently, “He’s grateful to me, Emmy, that’s all. You mustn’t build castles in the air.”
Which is precisely what she herself had been doing.
Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow she must somehow break the news to Emmy that she’d be leaving very soon. That she was moving away and severing any connection between the two of them. She dreaded it. But it had to be done, and done with all the sensitivity and care she could muster.
“I’d better go down,” Lise said, “it’s time to leave.”
Emmy bounced off the bed and tucked her hand in Lise’s. “I’ll come, too.”
&
nbsp; To feel Emmy’s warm fingers curled around her own was the most bittersweet of sensations. She loved Emmy. No question of that. It was going to hurt horribly to say goodbye to her. Pushing these thoughts aside, Lise smiled down at the little girl. “Thanks for all your help.”
So when Lise descended the circular staircase to the foyer, where an austerely designed Belgian chandelier cast pools of golden light, she had Emmy’s moral support to give her courage. Judd and Angeline were standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for her. Judd looked startlingly handsome in a tuxedo and pleated white shirt; as for Angeline, her silver gown made her look like a real princess: the one who did get the prince, Lise thought with a wrench at her heartstrings.
Judd said spontaneously, “You look magnificent, Lise.”
His smile was so high voltage that Lise felt her fragile composure tremble. “Thank you…how are you, Angeline?”
Angeline was staring at Lise as if she’d never seen her before; when she noticed the pendant, she looked like a schoolgirl who’s just found out someone else has beaten her to first prize. “I presume Judd chose your dress,” she said with the nearest thing to malice she was capable of. “He always did have good taste.”
“Actually I picked it out on my own,” Lise replied.
Angeline produced the moue made famous on many a billboard. “We’re getting my mother on the way to the Gagnons’, she’s coming, too. She was wrong when she said you’d never be beautiful like me.”
It was impossible to dislike Angeline, Lise thought ruefully; although the prospect of Judd and Marthe in the same car made her shudder. “That’s very generous of you,” she said, and meant it.
Angeline glanced over at her daughter. “I’d love a hug, petite—although don’t muss my dress.”
Emmy complied dutifully. Then she said, “You look cool, Dad.”
Judd picked her up and swung her high over his head. “Thanks, sweetheart. You’ll be fine with Maryann, she’s going to stay in the guest wing all night.”
“She said I could watch TV until nine-thirty.”
“Just go easy on the chocolate-coated popcorn.”
I wish I was staying home and watching TV, Lise thought. And fifteen minutes later when Marthe, in ice-blue satin, joined them in the limo, wished it even more sincerely. Marthe was frigidly polite to Judd, overly solicitous with her daughter and, after one affronted look that took in the designer gown and the jewels, ignored Lise completely.
That was fine with Lise. There were enough potential pitfalls in the evening ahead without adding Marthe’s acid tongue. Nevertheless, she couldn’t suppress a quiver of anticipation when they drew up outside the Gagnons’ huge—and, in her opinion, hugely ugly—medieval-style castle. Pillars, archways, buttresses and turrets, it had them all. As for the inside, she swiftly gained an impression of a decorator-perfect and soulless house, with none of the individuality of Judd’s eclectic collection of cherished objects.
The Gagnons, however, were gray-haired, rotund and friendly; their only son, Roland, who was visiting from New York, was blond and sleekly handsome. He kissed Angeline, whom he obviously knew, on both cheeks, gave Judd a look of cool assessment that rather puzzled Lise and shook Lise’s hand with enthusiasm. “Delighted to meet you,” he said, his boyish grin laden with charm. And just before the concert began in an anteroom to the elegant ballroom, he slipped into the seat next to Lise. She’d managed—rather successfully, she thought—to lose Judd and Angeline in the crush; and Roland’s company was certainly preferable to Marthe’s.
“Didn’t think I’d ever get to stop shaking hands,” he whispered. “Once this is done, the dancing begins. Real music.”
“You don’t like classical music?”
“It’s okay if you’re over sixty-five. The Viennese waltz crowd will be in the ballroom after this concert’s over. But the real action—disco and hip-hop—will be in the great room at the back of the house. I want to dance with you, Lise.”
“Thank you,” she said limpidly. “How do you know Angeline?”
“Oh, I met her a couple of years before she left for France,” he said vaguely. “What’s with you and Judd?”
“He’s my employer.” As Roland gave her a knowing look, Lise added more sharply than she’d intended, “I look after his daughter.”
“Okay, okay…oops, here comes the piano player. I’d better shut up, Mum can’t stand it when I talk through her kind of music. What’s the difference, I say, cover one kind of noise with another.” He grinned. “Makes her very cranky.”
Roland might be a lightweight, thought Lise, but at least he was keeping her mind off the way Angeline had been commandeering Judd’s attention all evening. She inspected her gilt-embossed program, settling down to enjoy herself as best she could. The pianist was world-class and the music did calm her; but afterward Judd tracked her down, insisting she accompany him, Angeline and Marthe to the ballroom, where an orchestra was tuning its instruments and white-jacketed waiters were passing champagne and delicious hors d’oeuvres. Roland vanished, having promised to rescue her in half an hour. With grim determination, Marthe engaged Lise in conversation.
So it was Angeline Judd led onto the dance floor first. They made a strikingly handsome couple, Lise thought with a painful twist of her heart; despite her own beautiful dress and her jewels, Judd had been nothing but punctiliously polite to her. Wishing she was sitting on her perch at the back of the fire truck, where at least she’d know who she was, she said, “Angeline looks lovely, Marthe.”
Marthe said in a staccato voice, “She’s left the count. She’s coming home to stay. She and Judd will remarry. For Emmy’s sake.”
Some champagne slopped from Lise’s glass onto the skirt of her dress. Her lashes flew down to hide her eyes. Of course. Why hadn’t she guessed there was a motive behind Angeline’s sudden appearance? And that it would be tied in with Emmy?
Angeline and Judd a couple again. Angeline, Judd and Emmy a family.
Her fingers trembling, Lise scrubbed at the damp stain on her dress. In a totally artificial voice, she said, “Look what I’ve done, how silly of me. Please excuse me, Marthe, I’ll try toweling it dry in the ladies’ room.”
She pushed back her chair. The myriad lights from the crystal chandeliers blurred in her vision; frantically she held back tears that if they once started might never stop. Asking one of the waiters for directions, she fled the ballroom.
The washroom was adorned with vases of red roses in front of gold-framed mirrors. Perhaps she could hide in here for the rest of the evening, Lise thought crazily. At least Judd couldn’t come after her.
He wasn’t going to come after her. He was going to remarry Angeline, Emmy’s mother. Thank God she, Lise, had had the sense to keep her pregnancy to herself. But what would it be like giving birth to Judd’s child and knowing that Judd was forever lost to her?
Other women came and went, chattering and laughing. Eventually Lise got up, repaired her lipstick and headed for the great room where strobe lights flashed and the heavy beat of the bass throbbed through her body. As she edged further into the room, Roland waved at her. “Been looking everywhere for you,” he said. “Even braved the ballroom, how about that? Let’s dance.”
Anything was better than the numb despair that had her in its grip. So Lise began to dance, her limbs feeling heavy and awkward. The noise level was too loud for conversation; the pulsing lights both hid and revealed her.
When the band stopped for a break, Roland led her toward the buffet table, which was laden with an array of food that at any other time would have taken her breath away. She was picking at some tiger shrimp when she saw, across the width of the room, Judd’s broad shoulders. She ducked behind another couple, but it was too late: he’d seen her. She could run, once more, for the washroom. But a stubborn kind of pride kept Lise where she was.
He strode up to her; in the intermittent light, she saw that he was in a towering rage. He rasped, “Where the hell have you been?”
“Dancing. With Roland.” Who, she noticed, was applying himself to his braised scallops as if Judd didn’t exist.
“It’s time you danced with me.”
“I don’t think so, Judd. You may have clothed me. But you don’t own me.”
His breath hissed between his teeth. “I’ve danced with Angeline twice. I’ve danced with her mother, which was an interesting experience. I’ve danced with Roland’s mother and two of his sisters. And now I’m going to dance with you.”
“I don’t want to dance with you!”
He took her by the arm, his fingers digging into her bare flesh. “We’ll discuss this somewhere else.”
Briefly Lise contemplated staging a full-blown scene. It was tempting; it might even make her feel better. But the Gagnons had welcomed her with genuine hospitality, and Roland had been kind to her in his own way; they deserved better of her than that. “Let go of me,” she said. “I’ll come of my own free will or not at all.”
Unwilling admiration flickered over Judd’s face. “You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” he said, and slid his hands with lingering sensuality down her arms to her wrists. Lightly clasping the fingers of one hand, he raised them to his lips, and kissed them one by one.
Lise stood rooted to the spot, fury and desire exploding in her veins. She snatched her hand back, said to Roland, “I’ll be back. Very soon,” and marched across the dance floor. But before she could reach the far side of the room, the percussionist struck three heavy chords, and the band picked up the beat. She pivoted to face Judd. “You wanted to dance. Then dance.”
The beat echoed the racing of her heart. She threw herself into the music, moving her body with overt sensuality and no caution whatsoever. Pouring her turmoil of emotion into the music, she danced as she’d never danced before, her eyes glittering, her hips gyrating, her cheeks flushed from far more than exertion. The whole length of the song, Judd’s eyes never left her, as in pagan invitation she flaunted herself in front of him. The song ended in a flourish from the electric guitars. Judd whirled her into the circle of his embrace and kissed her full on the mouth.