She hadn’t been the one to go and identify Paul after the accident three years ago; that onerous task had fallen to her father. Jane had been admitted to a private nursing home almost as soon as she’d learnt of the accident, delirious with pain as she lost the baby she had only carried for nine weeks.
It was a time in her life she tried very hard not to think about—Paul’s death, his betrayal nothing in comparison with the loss of her baby.
The pregnancy couldn’t have happened at a worse time in their marriage: Paul was rarely at home any more, and Jane was no longer bothered by his long absences; in fact she felt relieved by them.
But when she’d found out about the pregnancy she had known that she wanted her baby, wanted it very much, and had thought that perhaps there was something to be salvaged from their marriage after all. But Paul had easily disabused her of that fairy tale, laughingly informing her that he was leaving her to be with Jennifer Vaughan.
Which was what he had been doing at the time of the accident…
The scandal that had followed the two of them being killed together in Paul’s BMW had been too much for Jane on top of what she had already suffered. The newspapers had been full of it, her own photograph, as Paul’s wife, and that of Gabriel Vaughan, as Jennifer’s husband, appearing side by side together in a stream of speculation that had gone on for days on end.
Jane had been too emotionally broken to deal with any of it, and it had been weeks before she was even aware enough to realise that Gabriel Vaughan was looking for her. And as far as she was concerned there had been only one conclusion to draw from his search: somehow he blamed her for the fact that her husband had been involved in an affair with his wife!
That was when she had decided Janette Granger had to disappear, not just for the months she had already been secluded away because of her ill health, but for always if she were ever to make a life for herself.
And so she had disappeared.
But her fear of Gabriel Vaughan had not! Oh, not the Gabe who teased and kissed her; that Gabe was all too easy to like. But the Gabe who had been to visit Daphne and David Smythe-Roberts last week, the Gabe who could still talk so contemptuously of his believed selfishness of Janette Granger; he was definitely a man still to be feared!
And, while Janette Granger might have been able to disappear without apparent trace, Jane Smith knew better than not to heed that fear…
“GOOD MORNING, Jane. Lovely morning for a run, isn’t it,” Gabe said conversationally as he fell into stride beside her.
Jane faltered only slightly at the unexpected appearance of her running companion, continuing her measured pace.
And Gabe was right about the morning being lovely; it was one of those crisp, clear days so often to be found in England in mid-December, and with the snow now melted it was perfect for her early morning run. Although its perfection had now been marred somewhat by the advent of Gabe at her side! Gabe was the last person she had expected to see running in her park at seven o’clock in the morning…!
They ran on in silence, Jane determined not to have her routine disrupted. She enjoyed these early morning runs, putting her brain in neutral, just concentrating on the physical exercise, unhindered by cares or worries.
And this morning was no different as she continued her run round the park. Gabe, at her side, seemed to have no trouble at all keeping pace with her, for all that he must spend most of his time sitting behind a desk.
“I run too when I’m at home.” He seemed to read her thoughts. “And when I’m not at home I usually find a gym where I can work out.”
She should have known, by the width of his shoulders and the hard muscles of his stomach and legs. “I’m honoured,” she shot back dryly, looking to neither right nor left as she continued her run.
She didn’t believe for a moment that his presence here, at this time, was a coincidence. She had told him last week that she ran in the park near her apartment, and now that he knew the location of that apartment it couldn’t have been too difficult for him to work out where it was that she ran. It was the fact that he was here, obviously waiting for her, at seven o’clock in the morning, that had surprised her. And still did.
Gabe glanced sideways noting her concentrated expression. “I’ve had some very strange looks while I’ve been waiting for you!” Again he seemed able to read her thoughts.
Jane could well imagine he had! The only people here at this time of the morning were the homeless who had managed to find—and keep—one of the benches on which to spend the night, and other dedicated runners like herself, exercising before they prepared to go to work. Gabe, in his expensive, obviously new trainers, designer-logo shorts and sweatshirt top, did not fit into either of those categories.
“I’m not surprised,” she drawled, continuing her pounding on the tarmacked pathway.
It was beautiful here at this time of the morning. The birds were singing in the treetops, the sounds of the early morning traffic muted. Ordinarily Jane enjoyed this time of day, but with Gabe for a companion her enjoyment was as muted as the traffic noise!
She stopped once she reached the gate through which she had made her entrance earlier, having worked up a healthy sheen of perspiration, her breasts heaving slightly beneath her white vest-top. Gabe’s breathing was much heavier, his chest moving as he took in long gulps of air. Not so untroubled by the exercise as she had assumed!
He looked up at her with a rueful frown. “Okay, so I haven’t managed to find a gym since I arrived two weeks ago; I’ve been too busy chasing after the most elusive woman I’ve ever known!” he said irritably as there was no change in her mockingly knowing expression.
Jane stiffened. “Janette Granger?” she said warily.
“You!” he corrected impatiently. “Give me a break, Jane. Haven’t I proved to you yet that I’m not as ruthless as you initially thought I was?”
Her eyes narrowed, still slightly shaken by his earlier remark. “Is that what it was all about? Your change of heart where Richard Warner’s company was concerned,” she explained scathingly. “Was it done to impress me?”
Gabe became suddenly still, aqua-blue eyes narrowed angrily. “You know something, you really are the most—” He broke off abruptly, his mouth a thin, straight line. “Do you mean to be insulting, Jane, or does it just come naturally to you?” he grated harshly.
She had been thrown by what she had thought was a reference to her past self, and in retrospect she had just been incredibly insulting. After all, it had been three years; she had changed, so why shouldn’t he…?
“I’m sorry,” she told him tersely, not quite meeting his own suddenly mocking gaze.
Gabe relaxed slowly, a rueful smile finally curving his lips. “So what happens now?” He lightly changed the subject. “Do you go home and take a shower? Or do you have some other form of physical torture—exercise,” he amended dryly, “in mind first?”
Jane smiled—as she knew she was supposed to do—at his deliberate slip. “Coffee, croissants, and the newspapers,” she reassured him teasingly.
“Now you’re talking!” He lightly grasped her elbow as they turned towards the road. “I could do with a coffee and a sit down.”
“Oh, we aren’t going to sit down yet,” Jane turned to tell him smilingly. “I pick up the croissants and newspapers, and then I run home for the coffee. Usually,” she added mockingly as she saw his instantly disappointed expression. “As you’ve obviously had enough running for one day, I’ll make an exception today,” she conceded, leading the way to the little patisserie down one of the side streets away from the park where she usually stopped to buy her croissants on the way home.
As usual the door to the patisserie was already open and the smell of percolating coffee was wafting temptingly out into the street. Several people were already seated at tables as they entered, sipping their coffee, and indulging themselves with the best croissants Jane had ever tasted—her own included.
It wasn’t much of a
place to look at from the outside, and Jane could see Gabe’s eyes widen questioningly as she led the way through the serviceable tables and chairs to the counter beyond.
“Trust me,” she told him softly.
“Without question,” he conceded as softly.
The man behind the counter glanced up from his newspapers as he heard their approach, his handsome face lighting up with pleasure as he saw Jane was his customer. “Jane, chérie,” he greeted in heavily accented English, moving around the counter to kiss her on both cheeks. “Your usual?” he prompted huskily.
“Usual?” Gabe murmured beside her with dry derision.
She gave him a scathing glance. “I’ve brought a friend with me this morning, François.” She spoke warmly to the other man as he looked speculatively at Gabe. “Two ‘usuals’, to eat in this morning, and two cups of your delicious coffee,” she requested before leading Gabe firmly away to sit at a table by the window.
“First an Italian and now a Frenchman,” Gabe muttered, with a resentful glance towards the handsome François.
Jane looked across the table at him with laughing, sherry-coloured eyes. “Multinational Jane, that’s what they call me!” she returned laughingly. “Although I’m having more than a little trouble with a certain American I know!”
Gabe returned her gaze with too innocent aqua-blue eyes. “Me?”
She laughed softly at his disbelieving expression. “The part of the injured innocent doesn’t suit you in the least, Gabe!”
“I—” He broke off as François arrived at their table, expertly carrying the two cups of coffee, two plates containing croissants, and the butter and honey to accompany them. “That looks wonderful, François.” Gabe spoke lightly to the other man. “I’m Gabe Vaughan, by the way.” He held out his hand.
François returned the gesture once he had divested himself of the plates and cups. “Any friend of Jane’s is a friend of mine,” he returned a little more coolly.
A coolness that Gabe had obviously picked up on as he gazed speculatively across the table at Jane once the other man had returned to the counter to continue reading his newspaper. “Exactly how well do—”
“He’s a married man, too, Gabe,” she put in curtly. “Now eat your croissants!” she advised him exasperatedly, already spreading honey on one of her own.
“Yes, ma’am!” he returned tauntingly, turning his attention to the plate of food in front of him.
“At last,” Jane breathed softly seconds later. “I’ve found a way to shut you up!” she explained as she watched the expression of first wonder, and then bliss, as it spread across his face after the first mouthful of croissant. As she knew from experience, the pastry would simply melt in his mouth, in an ecstasy of delicacy and taste.
“This guy could make a fortune in the States!” Gabe gasped wonderingly when he could speak again.
“This ‘guy’ is doing very nicely exactly where he is, thank you very much,” Jane told him warningly. “Tempt him away from here at your peril!” She simply couldn’t envisage a morning now without François’s croissants to start her on her way!
Gabe took another bite of the croissant, as if he couldn’t quite believe the first one could have been quite that delicious. “I’d marry him myself if he weren’t already married,” he murmured seconds later. “How are you on croissants, Jane?” he added, brows arched hopefully.
“Not as good as François,” she answered abruptly. She didn’t find any talk of marriage, even jokingly, in the least bit funny!
“Pity,” Gabe shrugged, spreading more honey on what was left of his first croissant. “I guess I’ll just have to stick to François!”
He most certainly would!
Not that she didn’t realise he had meant the remark to be a teasing one; it just wasn’t a subject she could joke about. And certainly not with Gabriel Vaughan.
Of all people, never with him…!
CHAPTER TEN
“TELL me,” Jane prompted derisively as they lingered over their second cup of coffee, “what would you have done if I hadn’t turned up for a run in the park this morning?” She looked mockingly across at Gabe.
He shrugged. “I have faith in your determination, Jane, no matter what I may have said to the contrary the other evening!”
She put her cup down slowly, her expression wary. “My determination…?”
“You don’t look in the least like a fair-weather runner to me.” He looked admiringly at her slender figure.
And Jane didn’t in the least care for that look.
“After that wonderful meal we had last night, I thought I ought to join you this morning,” he added ruefully. “I just wasn’t sure of your starting time, although I didn’t think it would be too late, not with your work schedule,” he added teasingly.
“You’re certainly a persistent man,” she said distractedly.
Gabe looked unperturbed. “Something I inherited from my father—”
“The politician,” Jane recalled dryly.
“Retired,” Gabe acknowledged ruefully, although he looked pleased that she had remembered.
“So he claims.” Jane remembered that conversation only too well. In fact, she remembered all of her conversations with Gabe. “I usually take a break from running at the weekends,” she explained, still distracted by his persistence. “It tends to be my busiest time anyway. Although, as it happens, I do usually run later in the morning than this; today I’m up and about early because I’m catering for a lunch.”
“To my good.” He huskily acknowledged the breakfast they had just shared together. “It would have been even more pleasurable if we hadn’t parted at all last night—but I realise I can’t have everything!” He looked across at her with teasing eyes.
“You certainly can’t where I’m concerned!” Jane dismissed laughingly as she stood up; she had virtually given up trying to stop Gabe coming out with such intimate remarks about the two of them—he took little or no notice of her protests, anyway! “Time I was going,” she told him briskly. “I have work to do,” she added pointedly.
“So do I, madam, so do I,” he drawled in rebuke as he followed her back to the counter. “Let me—”
“My treat,” she insisted firmly, handing over the correct money to François. “Gabe thinks you should go to the States and make your fortune, François,” she told the other man lightly.
“And deprive myself of the pleasure of paying all these English taxes every year?” François returned with a Gallic shrug. “Besides, I have an English mother-in-law,” he confided to Gabe with a pointed roll of warm brown eyes. “And an English mother-in-law has to be the most formidable in the world!” he added heavily.
“All the more reason to leave the country, I would have thought,” Gabe returned sympathetically, his eyes twinkling with his enjoyment of the conversation.
“There is no way she would let me take her two grandchildren with me, let alone her daughter!” François shook his head with certainty. “Not that my wife would be agreeable to such an idea, either,” he added frowningly. “You know, ten years ago, when I first met her, she was very sweet and very beautiful, always agreeable. But with the passing of time she grows very like her mother…!” He gave another expressive Gallic shrug.
“Did no one ever warn you to look at the mother before marrying the daughter?” Gabe drawled mockingly.
“Er—excuse me?” Jane cut in pointedly on this man-to-man exchange. Did Gabe get on with everybody? It seemed that he was able to put most people at their ease, was able to adapt to any situation. Strange; three years ago she had had an impression of him being a much more rigid individual… “When the two of you have quite finished…?” she added ruefully.
Gabe looked down at her with mocking eyes. “Perhaps it would be a good idea for me to meet your mother…!” he murmured tauntingly.
But he had already done so! And, from the comments he had made to her after that meeting with the Smythe-Robertses, he had obviously liked bo
th her parents.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Jane derided. “But I’m nothing like my mother! She’s sweet and kind, and has been completely devoted to my father from the day she first met him!” She didn’t think she was necessarily un-sweet, or unkind, but she had one failed marriage behind her, and no intention of ever repeating the experience!
The two men laughed at her levity, although Gabe’s smile faded once they were once again outside in the street, his hand light on her elbow. “You know, Jane, we can’t all be as lucky with our first choice of partner as our parents have been,” he told her gruffly. “In fact, I’ve often thought that my own parents’ happy marriage gave me the mistaken idea they were all like that!” He shook his head in self-derision.
He could be right in that surmise, Jane allowed. She knew that she had viewed her own marriage, at age only twenty-one, to be a lifetime commitment to love and happiness. It had taken only a matter of months for her to realise that with Paul that was going to be hard work, if not impossible. But she had made the commitment, and so she had worked at the marriage. Unfortunately, Paul hadn’t felt that same need…
“With hindsight, I’m sure our parents’ marriages are the exception, not the rule,” she said tightly.
“Probably.” Gabe nodded thoughtfully, glancing at his wristwatch. “Now that’s dinner and breakfast I owe you.” He quirked dark brows. “Any chance we could start with the dinner?”
And end up having breakfast together the next morning…!
Gabe certainly had to be given marks for trying. After all, he had waited at the park for her this morning in the hope she would turn up. And she hadn’t thought that a man like Gabe—rich, handsome, and available—would chase after any woman so persistently, let alone one who was obviously so reluctant to be chased! But perhaps that was the appeal…?
“I did tell you this is my busy time—”
“Even Santa Claus has some time off before the big day,” Gabe reasoned persuasively.
The Yuletide Engagement & A Yuletide Seduction Page 26