A Taste of Heaven (Billionaires' Secrets Book 3)

by Jennifer Lewis

  She’d already raised over a million dollars, not including the raffle, for the World Refugee Fund. She should be ecstatic.

  Instead she felt...desperate.

  “Samantha, sweetheart!” She swung around to kiss another powdered cheek, this one belonging to her friend, Kitty. “Congratulations on snagging an art show.”

  Sam blushed. “It’s just the church hall.”

  “It’s not any old church hall, it’s on Madison Avenue and I’m bringing all my art world friends.”

  “You’re sweet. I just started experimenting with oils and I’m not sure I’m ready, but Margo insisted. And if anyone’s foolish enough to buy one, it’ll help pay for the church’s new roof.”

  “Everyone will want one. Mark my words. I’m not the number-one selling agent for Darcy and Maclaine for no reason. Who knew you had so much talent hidden under that well-sculpted exterior?”

  Not me, that’s for sure. A few lessons with Louis’s friend Margo had unlocked something inside Sam that had her up in her new studio day and night, diving into a turpentine-scented world of light and color.

  “I do enjoy painting so much.”

  “Trust me, we can tell by looking at your work. That big one of the Louisiana bayou at dusk...” Kitty shook her head, which had no effect whatsoever on her spiky blond tresses. “It’s magic.”

  Sam gulped. She’d been reluctant to include that in the show, given all the potboiler publicity over her affair with Louis. But Margo insisted that was all forgotten. And she was pretty much right. Since Sam never responded to the accusations and Louis had left for Europe, people assumed it was just more lies.

  So she’d agreed to include the painting of Louis’s special place. “That was my first painting.”

  “You’re kidding?” Kitty’s hazel eyes widened.

  “No, it formed in my mind one morning and I couldn’t put down the brush until it was done. It took me three days and nights. Anna brought me meals in my studio.” She touched Kitty’s forearm. “Lucky thing I’m a lady of leisure, huh?”

  Kitty stared. “First of all, I’ve never met anyone in my life who works harder than you. Second of all...wow. I’m going to be keeping an eye on you as an investment, as well as a friend.”

  Sam flushed with pride. It seemed she actually was good at painting. Louis had been right about that.

  Ugh, why did he keep sneaking into her mind when she least expected? Even painting and lunching and making phone calls around the clock didn’t squeeze him out of her consciousness.

  Especially at night. When she was in bed. Alone.

  She excused herself from Kitty and hurried to the green room to see how the speakers were doing, then checked with the caterers on whether the take-home gifts were ready.

  Everything in place. All going smoothly.

  “Sam-mee!”

  Sam tried not to roll her eyes at the annoying name only one person called her. “Hi, Bethanne,” she said and kissed her on both cheeks. “How’s the house in Amagansett coming?”

  “Appallingly slow, but what do you expect? Apparently the marble shipment from Italy got impounded by customs or some such nonsense. But never mind that, where are those dangerously handsome young men you rounded up to be your lifelong consorts?”

  Sam blinked. “Oh, you mean Dominic and Amado and—” Her throat closed as she tried to say Louis’s name.

  “Of course I do. What a marvelous idea to have sturdy young knights at your disposal and you don’t even have to sleep with them. Honestly, some aspects of marriage are better left unexplored after a certain age.” She winked a heavily mascaraed eyelash. “I don’t imagine you’ll remarry, dear, will you? Too much trouble defending your fortune from young turks, what with prenups being overturned in the courts every day. No, I wouldn’t, either, in your shoes.”

  Bethanne Demarist leaned in, until her horrid scent threatened to choke Sam, “But just between you and me, I could quite understand enjoying the talents of those adorable young men.”

  “Dominic and Amado are both married,” stammered Sam.

  “That’s not who I was talking about,” replied Bethanne, with a knowing look.

  “I...I...I must see if the hors d’oeuvres are being circulated.”

  “Come on, Sammy. I saw that picture in the paper.”

  “We weren’t kissing. It was a trick of the light.”

  Bethanne narrowed her eyes. “A trick of the light, huh?”

  “Yes, and you’d be amazed what they can do with digital photography these days.” And how easily I can tell a boldfaced fib on this topic.

  She really should be ashamed to outright lie about it. But it was in self-defense. And people got off even for murder when it was in self-defense, right?

  “Ah, well,” Bethanne’s expression slipped into a smirk. “I have seen him pictured with a lot of beautiful women since then.”

  Sam blanched. She had, too. Over the winter he’d opened another restaurant, competed in a prestigious yacht race and even hosted a multi-episode TV show about food of the American South. The pictures of Louis entwined with a succession of gorgeous starlet types had tied her stomach in knots for days on end.

  Which was ridiculous. She should be glad to see him enjoying himself.

  “Exactly,” Sam stammered. “He’s got a busy life. That’s why he’s not here tonight.”

  “Trick of the light. I’ll have to remember that one.” With a wink, Bethanne melted into the crowd.

  Sometimes she could barely remember the feel of his hands on her skin. Then, all at once, her skin would hum with sensation and she’d feel like he was right there.

  Which he wasn’t. Trick of the senses.

  Everything in her life was going better than she could have dreamed. She’d visited Argentina for Christmas and Amado and Susannah had shared that they were expecting their first child. She’d already spent many happy hours fondling toy catalogs and she was secretly making a quilt.

  Dominic had taken the retail sector of Hardcastle Enterprises to a whole new level by combining it with his own chain of stores, and his genius wife, Bella, had come up with a revolutionary sunblock that protected the skin from harmful rays, but allowed valuable vitamin D production.

  She should be over the moon to be part of—even a catalyst behind—all the wonderful things going on around her.

  Instead she felt hollow and empty inside. Even the joy of creating new worlds on canvas didn’t fill the hole that seemed to gape a little wider each day.

  She missed Louis.

  Maybe she should just call to say hi. This long silence between them was awkward. Unsettling. It undermined everything she’d hoped for about drawing the Hardcastle family closer.

  They could chat and everything would be more...normal.

  Right?

  “Wrong.” Sam’s heart sank as she looked up at Fiona. They sat curled up on the sofa in the Plum Room at the mansion. “The number, that is. Not in service.”

  “Maybe Louis got a new cell?”

  “Could be. I tried the house first, and I keep getting the machine. I don’t want to leave a message. You never know who could hear it and start trouble. He must have staff coming in and out since he’s out of town so much.”

  “You’re just going to have to go down there and find him.” Fiona scrolled through her iTunes playlist, as if she could care less either way.

  “How would I even know if he’s in town?”

  “He’s in town.” Fiona grabbed her PDA off the floor, pressed a few keys and handed it to Sam. “Party at his restaurant in the Quarter last night. Big jazz honchos all there.”

  Sam peered at the image on the tiny screen. Sure enough, there on a Web site called “Glitterati” was Louis, surrounded by smiling people she didn’t recognize.

  Her pulse picked up. So, he was down in New Orleans, right now.

  “You could be at LaGuardia in forty-five minutes,” murmured Fiona without looking up.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Sam bit her lip
. “I really should go, don’t you think? For the good of the family?”

  A sly smile crept around Fiona’s mouth. “Absolutely.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A light mist of rain fell through the dark as Sam rang Louis’s doorbell. Her heart thudded and her palms were damp, but a sense of resolve and determination straightened her back. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She was human, and so was Louis. Life was short and meant to be lived.

  And she wanted to live hers with Louis.

  A light shone from the back of the house, and she could imagine Louis sitting upstairs in his office, or maybe eating a late dinner in the elegant dining room she imagined overlooking a garden.

  She peered through the small squares of glass behind the scrolled wrought iron on the door, and saw a shadowy figure moving along the hallway. The door swung open to reveal an elegant older woman with her hair swept up into a white bun on top of her head.

  “Yes?” The woman looked her up and down, which made Sam self-conscious. Her dress was wrinkled from travel and already damp from the rain.

  “Is Louis here?” Sam tried to stop her voice from shaking.

  “He’s not expected back until morning.” The woman raised a brow. “Can I take a message?” She had an air of wariness, like she’d spent all night taking messages from forlorn women.

  Which maybe she had.

  “Um, do you know where he is?”

  The woman’s lips pursed. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Gone until morning. Which meant he was staying the night somewhere else. And why would he do that if there wasn’t a woman involved?

  Sam’s heart clenched like a fist. She’d come too late. She’d seen those pictures of him with other women, but somewhere, deep inside, she’d assumed they were just pictures. Standing there, with rain dripping off the balcony behind her, she realized that all along she’d imagined Louis waiting patiently for her to come to her senses.

  But now that she had, he was gone.

  “Could you tell me the address of his fishing cabin? I’d like to visit it again before I go and I can’t remember the way.” Her lip quivered. At least of she was going back to New York alone she could drive to the dock and get one more look at the bayou that had inspired her to start painting.

  But the woman crossed her arms over her ample chest. “I’m afraid that address is strictly private. Would you like to leave a message for Mr. DuLac?”

  Clearly she wanted to sweep Sam off her doorstep and get back to her quiet evening inside. But what message could Sam leave? It would only be awkward if Louis knew she’d come looking for him and had learned he was out all night with another woman.

  “No message, thanks. Sorry to bother you.”

  “No problem, good night.” With a forced smile, the woman closed the door, leaving Sam alone in the damp, dark street. She let out a shuddering sigh as disappointment soaked through her like rain.

  As she wrapped her fingers around the handle of her rental car, ready to head back to the airport, she resolved to at least drive to the bayou to say goodbye. Even if she couldn’t find the spot where Louis took her, she could sit out there for a while and listen to the rain. Maybe even wait for the sunrise. If nothing else, another painting might come to her. The ability to create a private place and make it come alive on canvas was a surprising comfort in an unpredictable world, and her world was nothing if not unpredictable.

  Louis swerved to avoid a large box turtle on the road. The tires skidded a little on the rain-soaked asphalt and he struggled to stay on the pavement.

  Damn! Katie said she’d left hours ago. She hadn’t even intended for him to find out she’d come. But when Katie described a tall, skinny woman with big blue eyes in a crazy looking dress and high heels, he could only picture one person.

  In all likelihood, Sam was on a plane back to New York right now, but instinct drove him deeper into the bayou country. Katie said she’d asked for the address of his cabin. Fiona had told him about the painting Sam did—the swamp afire with light—and that everyone was raving about her talent and begging for more of the same. Would she seek the scene of her inspiration in hope of finding more?

  Maybe that was why she’d come down here in the first place.

  He shouldn’t delude himself that she’d come down here looking for him. Lord knows he’d done his best to get her out of his mind, opening the new cafe in Nice, keeping busy with friends.

  With women.

  A thick rope of sensation tugged at his chest. Nothing had helped. He only wanted one woman, and she’d shoved him out of her life like yesterday’s garbage.

  As a member of New York’s high society she must be used to doing that. Probably changed her friends as often as she updated her expensive wardrobe.

  Louis stuck his arm out the window of the car into the mist of rain hovering over the bayou. The drops felt cool and peaceful on his sweaty skin.

  He’d told himself he’d get over her.

  Eventually.

  But so far it hadn’t happened, and if tonight’s high-speed chase along rain-streaked bayou roads was anything to go by, he was a long, long way from over her.

  He turned onto the side road that led to the cabin just as the first silvery streaks of dawn rose above the swamp. For some reason he already felt closer to her. Which was ridiculous. There was nothing for miles but swaying grass and overgrown trees on a blue-gray haze of rain.

  But he’d never really managed to banish memories of her bright smile, her hopeful gaze, the warmth that emanated from her like the steam rising from his car engine.

  Even now, longing crept through his muscles and made his nerves kick with desire.

  He pulled up by the boathouse. Was that a gleam of something in the dark? He jumped out of the car and strode toward the wood structure that stood silent and invisible in the damp darkness. Rain soaked through his shirt and cooled his skin, but it didn’t ease the dull ache in his chest. The constant sense of yearning for the one thing he wanted and couldn’t have.

  “Sam.”

  His voice echoed around the empty swamp. He must be delusional to come here looking for her. Still, as he walked around the boathouse, he could almost feel her. He could swear he smelled her expensive scent hovering in the air like the haints the old people whispered about.

  His hand brushed against something hard and cool—metal. He struggled to adjust his eyes to the thick darkness while his hands spread over the hood of a car. Cool already, its engine must have been off for a while.

  “Sam?” Was she out there in the swamp alone? It was a dangerous place, with alligators and quicksand and sudden patches of deep water that could take you by surprise. “Sam!”

  Panic ratcheted through his system, stoked by desire and painful longing. “Where are you?” He stood still, listening.

  Patterns of sound played around him, rain on the leaves and grasses, and the hum of insects.

  Louis.

  His skin prickled with goose bumps. He could almost swear he heard someone call his name. He didn’t actually hear it with his ears. He felt it.

  Louis.

  “I’m coming, Sam. Call out to me!” Urgency rang in his voice as he splashed around the boathouse and pulled the doors open. “Call for me, Sam. I’ll find you.”

  Louis.

  Again, he didn’t hear her voice so much as feel it vibrate through him. “I’m coming for you, Sam. Keep calling.” He didn’t start the engine because it would drown out all sound. Instead he picked up the wooden paddle from the floor of the boat and started to row in the direction his instincts told him.

  His muscles strained against the heavy, still water. He pushed the prow of the boat through the grasses thickening the dark, glistening surface as his whole being yearned and struggled toward Sam.

  “Louis, I’m over here.” At last her voice rose over the sound of raindrops. It was edged with desperation. He could hear her clear as a birdcall, about a hundred yards to his left.

&nb
sp; In a split second he started the engine and chugged toward her. Moonlight picked out a slender female form, standing waist-high in tall grasses.

  His heart leaped like a flying fish.

  He cut the engine and paddled the last few yards, then reached out into the rain to grasp her hand in his. Powerful sensations surged through him as her fingers threaded through his, small and slippery with rain.

  Her hair clung to her scalp and her flowered dress molded to her body. A fierce wave of emotion crashed over him at the sight of her.

  In a single, swift motion he seized her around the waist and tugged her into the boat, then found that he couldn’t unlock his arms from around her, but kept clutching her closer and closer to his chest.

  Sobs racked her small frame. “Oh, Louis. I had to see you. I tried, I really did. I’ve been painting and everything, but nothing could stop me from—” Her voice rose to a high whine that cascaded into a shuddering sob.

  “Shh.” He put a finger to her quivering lips. “I’ve felt just the same. I couldn’t get you out of my mind and it’s driving me crazy.” He pressed his cheek against her cool, wet one as feelings beyond words churned through him.

  “Sorry.”

  Her wavering apology sent his chuckle rippling through both of them. “You should be. Driving us both half-mad when you knew all along that we’re meant to be together.”

  Sam’s eyes opened wide and stared into his. Rain and tears wet her lashes. “We are, aren’t we? Meant to be together.”

  Fresh joy burst through him, so rich and sweet he couldn’t help sassing her. “I could have told you that from day one. In fact, I think I did.” He cocked his head. “But some people just won’t listen to sense.”

  “And what you said, about having kids...” Her voice shook. “I might not be able to. I did try for three years with Larry and even though the tests didn’t find anything, it’s quite possible that—”

  Louis crushed her to his chest. He couldn’t stand to hear her doubt and fear, all of it so unnecessary.