Love Is Lovelier

by Jean Brashear

  “There you are,” he said softly. “The Anne who wanted to live in Paris.”

  Her breath caught. “You remember that?”

  “I recall a lot of things about you.” He traced her jaw with one long finger. “And I want to learn more.” He bent and grazed his mouth over hers. “Be with me tonight, Anne. Let me remind you just how young you are.”

  Oh, how lovely that sounded. To abandon herself to his handling, which she was certain would be adroit and masterful, just as the man was. “I don’t know,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

  He brushed her lips again with exquisite slowness. “Say yes. Let me give you this refuge,” he said, as if he’d read her thoughts.

  If only… But Charlotte’s worried face rose before her. Daisy Rose’s trust. All her family, struggling.

  She opened her eyes. “I wish—”

  “Don’t say no,” he ordered, and drew in a deep breath as he refused to release her gaze.

  “I want to, William, but it’s not that simple.”

  “Tell me. Share with me.” Something pained crossed his face. “Trust me.”

  She studied him, wondering if she dared. He was her competitor, in the strictest sense, yet his wealth and holdings were so much more extensive that she didn’t see how her hotel could have any effect on his business. This new ultimatum from the Corbins had disturbed her, but that was a concern she was unwilling to share.

  “Coffee, then.” He withdrew a coin from his pocket. “I’ll settle for coffee.” He grinned. “For now.”

  Trust me. Share with me. Oh, how she wanted someone to confide in, to help her regain perspective.

  “Coffee.” She nodded.

  He tossed the coin twice but didn’t ask her to call it. Instead he shook his head. “Can’t do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “You’re ruining me, you know that, don’t you? I was perfectly happy as a raider, plundering ships and kidnapping maidens, until you came along.” His eyes sparkled.

  She couldn’t resist a smile. “So what have I done now?”

  He proffered the coin. “Here. My lucky coin.”

  She frowned. “You want me to toss it?”

  “I’m surrendering it as a gesture of trust.”

  Slowly, she peeled it from his palm. Closed her fingers over it and felt his warmth lingering there. “I could use a lucky coin,” she said.

  “I know.”

  She had the sense that he did. That what she would confide might not be such a secret, after all. “Thank you.”

  He snorted. “Don’t thank me yet. Look at the other side.”

  She turned it over. Her gaze flew to his face, but instead of the devilment she expected, she found him sober.

  “You were going to cheat.” And he’d asked her to trust him. “You think I’m a coward.”

  His astonishment was too quick to be feigned, and it mollified her.

  “You consider me foolish for not wanting to be alone with you.”

  “On the contrary—” He waggled his eyebrows. “I think you’re very astute.”

  She could be outraged or disappointed, and either was probably wise.

  But a tiger doesn’t change his stripes, and a pirate doesn’t become a shop clerk. The man inside the Savile Row suit was far more complex than she’d realized. Far more fascinating.

  “You could turn it on me,” he offered. “Change the wager to whether or not I have to go home alone as a payback.”

  “I could,” she acknowledged. “And probably should.” But when had she had more fun or had her assumptions so challenged? Had her predictable life turned on its head?

  The woman who’d once been a girl intent on being a bohemian saw the resignation on his face.

  And laughed. “Instead, I believe I’ll be flattered.” Delight danced inside her. “We’ll go to your place.”

  His eyes widened, and he started to speak.

  She placed her fingers over his mouth. “For coffee.”

  His gaze was laser-hot as he waited for her to remove her hand.

  When she did, he spoke, and his voice was just this side of husky. “How about wine?”

  “Coffee.”

  “Well, it’s a start,” he said.

  “It is indeed,” she agreed.

  He handed her into the car, then rounded the hood, his gaze never leaving hers.

  The ride was silent, and with every mile, she listened for regret or remorse to creep into her.

  But they never did.

  “RAM? IT’S LUC.”

  “How are you?”

  In a hell of a mess. “Good. Yourself?”

  “Fine also.”

  “What’s this about the Corbins?”

  “The authorities in Bangkok—I have it from good source that they are preparing charges of fraud against them.”

  “No shit.” Luc seldom swore, but this news was breathtaking. Terrific. The most encouraging thing he’d heard in weeks. Months.

  “They will lose all their holdings here. Face serious time in prison.”

  Great if they were in Thailand, but they weren’t. “What about extradition?”

  “They are not in the country?” Ram asked. “Perhaps their property in Lafayette?”

  Careful, Luc. No one knows about your deal with them.

  “How should I know? I just remember they traveled a lot.”

  “I have heard that they have perhaps turned their eyes on further expansion in America. I thought I should warn you. Richard and Daniel are not good men, Luc.”

  Tell me about it. But for Ram, he adopted a breezy tone. “America’s a big place, pal. But I appreciate the heads-up. If you hear anything else…”

  “I will gladly phone you. I did not care for my stay in their employ.”

  Then you were smarter than me, my friend. “I hear you. Thanks, and give my best to your family.”

  “I will. Goodbye, Luc.”

  “Bye, Ram.”

  He closed his phone and stared at nothing while his mind raced.

  “ON SECOND THOUGHT, let’s go to my place,” Anne said abruptly.

  They were a block from his house. He glanced over at her. Even the moonlight didn’t account for how pale she was.

  He chose the path of discretion. She looked ready to run. “All right. I’d like to pick up something from my house first, though, if you don’t mind.”

  Her eyes were dark holes. If possible, she paled further. “Oh.” She stared straight ahead. “I hadn’t thought…” She seemed to visibly steady herself. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For remembering about….” She shrugged, and if anything, her voice grew quieter. “Precautions.”

  What she meant took a moment to sink in. William choked back the laughter that was his immediate reaction. The need to protect her, even from her own mistaken assumptions, swamped him. Sweet heaven, how he wanted to hold her. Kiss her. Keep anything from ever worrying her again.

  He’d only wanted to grab a bottle of wine he’d been saving for a special occasion, not the condoms she obviously thought he meant.

  He pulled into his driveway and stopped. He had to handle this gingerly; he wouldn’t embarrass her for the world. “Anne, look at me.”

  Slowly, but with obvious reluctance, she complied.

  He took her hand. “I want you. I’ve been clear on that.”

  When he didn’t continue, she nodded hesitantly.

  “I’m doing my damnedest not to rush you, though I suspect you’d disagree.”

  A faint curve of her lips.

  “I want to spend time with you, whatever that involves. I’m not going to pounce on you.”

  There was such hope in her eyes that he buried a rueful smile against her fingers.

  “You respond to me. I can feel it. Please don’t deny it.”

  Once again, her courage showed in the way she met his gaze. “I won’t.”

  “Good,” he said. “That’s good.” With the unerring sense of human nature that had made him a rich man
, he broached a topic that she might find easier to discuss in the darkness. “You haven’t been with anyone since Remy?” he asked.

  He felt the flinch. “Or…before.”

  “Or—” Good God. He was going to lose his mind from lust before this was over. He was toast. He swallowed hard. “Before.” His voice cracked like a teenager’s from sheer, vicious arousal.

  It was her turn to smile. “Men like that, don’t they? That sense of possession. I’m hardly a virgin, William, even if I have only been with one man. I’ve borne four children.”

  “Pity us. We’re the weaker sex. I admit it.”

  At last she laughed, and the tension was dispelled.

  “I’m not a virgin, either,” he said. “But I will confess to a little more…experience.”

  “A lot is more like it, I’d bet.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m older than you. I didn’t marry early.”

  “But you’ve been widowed, eight years, is it?”

  “Eight, yes.”

  “You’ve dated. A lot.”

  “Probably not as much as you seem to believe. And not many of those extended past dinner or a ball.”

  She was quiet for a long time. Then she spoke. “Were you faithful to Isabel?”

  He caught her gaze and wouldn’t release it. This, he understood, was critical. “Yes. Always.”

  She nodded. “I’m glad.”

  “I’ve taken a lot of risks in my business life, Anne, but I’m not a careless man. Even my gambles are calculated.”

  “So what have you calculated about me?”

  “It wouldn’t matter.” He chuckled. “You blow every blasted assumption out of the water.”

  This smile was the most genuine yet. “Don’t expect me to be sorry.”

  “Before we leave this topic, I want to ease your mind. One, I wasn’t going after condoms.” She tried to draw away, but he wouldn’t let her. “And two, we don’t need them. I’ve been very careful and I’ve been tested often.”

  “I didn’t think you were—” She pulled at her fingers again.

  “Oh, you absolutely did.” He drew her clenched fist open, gently but firmly. “You still don’t really trust me.” He placed a kiss to her palm. “I will change that if it takes the rest of my life.”

  “William, it’s not that I don’t—” She shook her head. “And it’s not you, not really. I just have a lot on my mind. A great deal to worry over.”

  “I know that. I want to help you, Anne. I’m aware that the hotel is in trouble, and you’re worried sick.” He pulled back and let her hand go, though he didn’t want to. “Won’t you come inside with me—hands off, swear on my mother’s head—and talk it over? If anyone would understand what you’re up against, it’s me. We’ve discussed your hotel’s situation before.” He grinned. “I’m not doing my goal of getting you into bed any favors to admit this, but I truly do enjoy listening to you and talking to you as much as trying to get you naked.”

  Her soft laughter warmed him. “You’ve been wonderful to let me natter on in the past, but—”

  “You never natter. What’s happened now?”

  She studied him in silence. Finally, “The prospective buyers have threatened to withdraw their offer. They want an answer.”

  “You don’t want to sell, anyway.”

  “We may not have any choice.”

  She looked so small and heartbroken, it was all he could do not to sweep her up in his arms, but that would only complicate things for her.

  “Anne, you know I have money. I could help.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I can’t take it.”

  “Can’t…or won’t?”

  “William, the hotel is Remy’s legacy to his girls. You and he—”

  Were rivals. “That was a million years ago.”

  “What did he tell you every time you tried to buy the hotel in the past?”

  Her tone had cooled. If he weren’t careful, the night would be a total loss, and he instinctively knew he’d have a hell of a time getting her this close and open again.

  “He said no, of course. But I’m not talking about buying it now.” Trying to, yes, but if he told her that, she’d be gone without waiting to hear why he’d put the pieces in place. He had to think how best to handle things, but regardless, he wasn’t letting her go until he figured it out. “Come on.” He put his car in gear and drove under the porte cochere, then parked and switched off the engine. Without waiting for her to agree, he emerged and headed for her door. “Rewind the tape, and we’ll do the last few sentences over. I wouldn’t offer you money if my life depended on it.” He found a grin and hoped it passed muster. “Convincing?”

  She rose so slowly that he expected her to sprint off at any moment. She wouldn’t have to go far to escape him—her mother’s house was only a block away.

  Not that he wouldn’t recapture her before she hit the end of the driveway.

  The pirate metaphors were getting out of hand. That made him smile genuinely.

  “What on earth could you possibly find funny?” Her eyes glistened in the light spilling from his windows. “I’m here with a man who hated my husband, who’s tried to snatch his dream from him more than once in the past, and now you’re trying to—”

  “I didn’t hate Remy,” he interrupted.

  “Don’t you lie to me, William Armstrong. You and he nipped at each other’s heels for years.”

  “It wasn’t hate.” He clasped her shoulders. “It was envy.”

  She frowned. “You won. You had your father’s empire all to yourself. I still don’t understand why you walked away from it. What did Remy have for you to envy?”

  “First of all, I left because I was sick of being manipulated for my father’s ends. He had this need to control everything and everyone around him. He had no love in him.”

  “You were the prince. New Orleans was yours for the taking.”

  “Some of New Orleans,” he corrected, locking his gaze on hers. “Not the part I wanted.”

  “No,” she whispered. “You don’t mean—you can’t—it was just a foolish notion of our mothers’, a pipe dream of two best friends, to have their children marry. You had no more intention of following through than I did.”

  “You’re right,” he admitted. “I was too full of my own plans.” He drew her closer. “But that doesn’t mean that I had no regrets when you took one look at Remy and forgot I existed.”

  “It’s all about claiming rights with you males, isn’t it? Marking your turf.”

  “It was once,” he conceded. “And a healthy dose of showing Remy that I could win in my own way, rather than by default when he abandoned all my father’s designs for him.” He tilted up her chin. “But not now, Anne. Don’t even think it. This thing between us has nothing to do with competition. It’s more. Much more.”

  Before she could protest, he swung her around to face the door without letting go. “But at the moment, we’ll pretend we’re just friends who walk each morning. I’ll make coffee or open wine, your choice, and we’ll sit in the conservatory, since it’s your favorite place, and we’ll just…talk.”

  “Does anyone ever tell you no? Or better, I should ask, do you ever listen when they do?”

  He gave her what he hoped was a companionable one-armed hug and winked. “I take the fifth.”

  Then he led her inside.

  LUC LAY IN BED, unable to sleep. With the Mardi Gras deadline the Corbins had given him approaching in little more than a week, the pressure would only increase. This new threat would mean he’d hear from the Corbin brothers very soon. They were growing increasingly frustrated with him, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could drag his feet.

  He needed leverage, and he might have just found it. They weren’t in Lafayette, best he could tell, but they were nearby. He’d figured that from bits and pieces he’d picked up in their conversations.

  He could drop a dime to the authorities and tip them off to the Corbins’ proximity. Some
how he had to figure out what agency would be most interested, and there wasn’t much time left to act. Extradition took a long time, too long for the Marchands, but maybe he could cast enough suspicion the Corbins’ way to keep them too busy to make more mischief for his family.

  His family. He liked the sound of it, even as he recognized that his aunt and cousins would hardly feel warm and mushy about him if they had the slightest idea what he’d done already.

  What a hell of a mess he was in.

  Oh, Papa, I wanted to avenge you. As things stood now, Luc’s quest could, at a minimum, cost him his job, and probably result in jail time of his own.

  No permanent damage had been done, however, except to the hotel’s reputation. If he could find a way out of this coil and remove the Corbins in the bargain, perhaps he could figure out a means to make the rest up to his aunt. Work for lower wages. Longer hours. He was an excellent concierge, that he knew. He would put his back into it, devote himself to making the Hotel Marchand stronger than ever.

  Yeah, right. Like they would actually care about having the family black sheep’s son anywhere around. He was nothing to them, however much he wished things were different.

  Maybe he should just split. If he weren’t around, the Corbins would have to give up on—

  Who was he kidding? They’d replace him with someone much worse, someone who had no emotional ties to these women and their struggle.

  He had to stay.

  And he had to find some answers.

  Quick.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ANNE GAVE UP on sleep at 3:00 a.m. and rose from the bed that had once been a refuge. At the moment, she wished she’d kept the one she and Remy had shared. Replacing it had been one of those futile efforts a widow makes, trying to signal—to herself as much as her ghosts—that she is ready to move on. That she has gotten over losing the man who inhabited it with her.

  Blast it, Remy, why did you go off and leave me? But her lips curved faintly as she could almost hear his response. Now, chère, he’d drawl with that cocky grin that had first charmed her and never quit, you’re a sensible woman. Surely you see that I would never leave ma doucette, less’n that ole devil Satan catch up with me. For as sure as sin, it’s lovin’ you more than le bon Dieu that’s gonna get me in trouble, but you are worth the price, chère.