by Meryl Sawyer
That got them. Wyatt chuckled again, but Phoebe stepped back, confused.
“Jake’s right. I couldn’t care less about Clay. He’s all yours. Unless someone else has already …” Alyssa’s voice trailed off as she pointedly looked at Clay and Maree.
“Who’s that woman?” Phoebe asked her brother.
“I have no idea.”
“Come on, darling.” Alyssa gave Jake a manufactured smile. “Let’s dance.”
His arm still around her, they walked away from Phoebe and Wyatt. “Man, oh, man. I’ve never been in the middle of a cat fight before now.”
“You didn’t have to protect me. I can take care of myself.”
Jake stopped a few feet from the dance floor, where the band was getting ready to play a new song. “Hey! I’m on your side. Don’t get pissy.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that … you wouldn’t understand.”
He set their glasses on a passing waiter’s tray, then led her out onto the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. “Try me. What won’t I understand?”
Alyssa looked directly into his eyes. “Call it women’s intuition, but I think Phoebe knows what happened to her baby.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t seen her since before the baby was born. When she and Wyatt were walking up to me, I expected Phoebe to demand to know what happened to her child. That’s what I would have asked. That’s what most women would have done if they truly believed I had stolen their child. Instead, Phoebe warns me to stay away from her husband.”
“I see your point.”
“Do you? Be serious now. What if Patrick had been your son?”
Jake looked across the backyard to where his father was standing with the governor. Max Williams had married Jake’s mother and they’d had him. For reasons no one ever had explained fully to Jake, they’d divorced before Jake had any memory of his father. Max hadn’t bothered with his son until about nine years ago when he’d suffered a mild heart attack and decided he needed an heir.
“If he’d been my baby, I’d still be searching for him.”
She regarded him with a speculative gaze, and he knew there had been a little more emotion in his voice than he’d intended. He attempted to buffer it with a one-shouldered shrug, then changed his mind. Having a soft spot for children in danger didn’t necessarily reflect on his own life.
“I’m going to hire a private investigator. I—”
Jake cut her off. “Been there; done that What makes you think this time will be different?”
The song ended, and they stopped dancing, but he didn’t let her go.
“The dance is over.” She started to step out of his arms.
“Don’t move. I’m thinking. You’ll ruin my train of thought.” He held her a little closer. “I know just the man to help you out. Rueben Sanchez used to be with the FBI.”
She pulled out of his arms, and he had no choice but to let her go. He ventured another look at her chest.
“Quit that.”
“What?” He winked at her, pretending not to understand. “Oh, that. Did I tell you that you look great?”
She gave him the first genuinely enthusiastic smile he’d ever gotten from her. “Thanks.” Her smile widened. “For everything. Well, almost everything.”
“Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”
“Why did you tell them I’m in love with you?”
“You’re not?”
“Think again.”
“Give it some time. You’ll be crazy about me.”
“Why do I have anything to do with you?”
“You’re into sadomasochism big time.”
This time she laughed, really laughed. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
“Darling, has anything bad happened?” Maree asked Clay.
“What do you mean?”
Neville had wandered off to the bar to get drinks, leaving Clay alone with Maree.
“Remember? Dante told me he had warned you. ‘Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. If God won’t have you, the devil must.’ Something terrible—”
“Come on, Maree. You can’t believe such nonsense.” But he could see that she did, and he remembered only too well her fondness for psychics. He kept his eyes on her, but over Maree’s shoulder he’d been watching Alyssa dancing with Jake. Was something going on between them?
“I miss you, Clay.” She reached into the small handbag she clutched in one hand, then slipped a card into the pocket of his jacket. “I’ve leased a carriage house on Julia Street. Here’s my address and telephone number.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Clay saw Phoebe and her brother watching them. They both saw Maree put the card in his pocket. Great. Now he had even more explaining to do—not that it mattered.
“How did you meet Neville?” he asked.
“I ran into him at a political fund raiser. He’s nice but …”
Clay let her words hang there. She didn’t interest him and hadn’t for a long time. He had no intention of encouraging her. She was better off with Neville.
And he wanted Alyssa.
The last thing he’d expected was for Alyssa to show up tonight and take on her enemies. She was braver now than she’d been when he’d first fallen in love with her. She’d idolized him then. He sensed he might have to win her back, and he was prepared to do it.
“How well do you know that woman?” Maree asked.
Clay realized he’d been quiet for a second too long. Always intuitive, Maree had followed his gaze and read his mind.
“TriTech bought her company.” He didn’t elaborate, wishing Neville would hurry up with those drinks.
“She’s beautiful.”
Clay knew Maree was fishing for a compliment, but he wasn’t in the mood.
“She must be related to your wife.”
“Alyssa Rossi is Phoebe’s second cousin.”
Neville arrived with their drinks, and Clay grabbed his, muttered some excuse, then walked away. He greeted several friends as he made his way through the crowd. Alyssa was still with Jake, and Clay experienced an unwelcome surge of what had to be jealousy when she laughed at something Jake had said.
“Clay, wait a minute.” He turned and saw Phoebe and Hattie bearing down on him with Wyatt in tow.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Alyssa?” Phoebe’s voice was low but charged with emotion.
“I had no idea she was here.” This was half true. If it weren’t for his investigator, he wouldn’t know Alyssa had arrived in New Orleans.
“Did you handle the negotiations?” demanded Hattie.
“TriTech hired a consultant to handle the purchase. I was too busy and Jake was in Patagonia.” He resented having to explain himself, but he knew it would happen sooner or later. It was better to do it here than at home, where Phoebe would really pitch a fit.
“You could have stopped it,” hissed Phoebe.
“Stop Jake Williams. Are you serious?”
He’d intentionally made it sound as if acquiring the company had been Jake’s idea. He pointedly looked at Jake and Alyssa.
“Don’t blame Clay,” Wyatt told Phoebe. “They’re in love. Jake said so, remember? That’s why he bought Alyssa’s company.”
In love? Since when? Clay asked himself. Jake wasn’t her type—not at all.
“What are we going to do about her?” Hattie asked Phoebe.
“Nothing,” Clay responded. “Leave her alone.”
“I don’t expect we’ll see too much of her,” Wyatt said. “Jake isn’t the most social guy around.”
“True,” Clay reluctantly admitted. “He’s nothing like his father.”
“I need to talk to Ravelle,” announced Hattie in the self-important tone his mother-in-law often used.
“I’ll see you at home,” Phoebe told him.
Clay planned on spending the night at the Mayfair Club to give Phoebe time to cool off, but he didn’t mention it Instead he watched the trio walk away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alyssa wit
h Jake.
He couldn’t believe they’d gotten together so fast. Something must have happened in Florence that he hadn’t counted on. His temper flared as he imagined Alyssa and Jake in bed. Clay knew he was better looking than Jake, but he had to admit Jake had a certain something that was hard to define. Masculine virility, he decided. He had a presence about him that women would find appealing.
Clay decided he had to act—fast—before he lost the opportunity he’d waited so many years to get.
CHAPTER 10
“Good night,” Alyssa said to Jake as she opened the gate to Aunt Thee’s town house.
“I’ll walk you to the door.”
“This is the same as the door.”
“Check again. It’s a gate.” He held the gate open for her.
She wasn’t going to argue with him, but she had the sneaking suspicion he planned to kiss her good night. He had a disturbingly sensual way of looking at her, or maybe it was just her imagination.
She found him appealing in a way that was difficult to define. She hadn’t thought about it until tonight when she’d taken the chance to compare Clay to Jake. Clay seemed too polished, too sophisticated, she thought. Too much of a stereotype, which made her suspect he had a dark side and kept it concealed.
Jake had a compelling quality, Alyssa decided, a hint of aggressiveness and determination. His stance, legs slightly apart, suggested the readiness of a fighter. His head canted slightly to one side and his eyes were alert, missing nothing.
No matter how intriguing she found Jake, she was interested in him only as a friend. She had no intention of encouraging him to think otherwise.
“Great place,” Jake said when they stepped inside. “That’s what I like about the French Quarter. You never know what’s behind the walls.”
She crossed the courtyard and unlocked the French doors to the main house, then turned to Jake. His head dipped toward her.
“Stop!” she cried, but it was too late.
His mouth overpowered hers as he pulled her against him. The mounds of her breasts flattened, his chest meshing against hers. His tongue traced the soft fullness of her lower lip, then edged inside to caress the tip of her tongue. Alyssa’s pulse skittered alarmingly, a fluid warmth seeping through her body.
“Let me go,” she said, pushing him away and telling herself that her knees were not weak.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m going to kiss you again.”
“No, you’re not.” She tried to free herself, but he was too strong for her.
“Go on. Admit it. You like kissing me.”
She refused to give him the satisfaction of saying he was right, but she had to admit—to herself—she did like it. Actually, she more than liked it.
This time when he lowered his head, she couldn’t force herself to turn away. Their lips met, and her arms reflexively circled his neck. In a scorching kiss, his tongue aggressively mated with hers, and her breasts swelled with pleasure.
She wanted him to stop kissing her. She honestly did, but her long dormant sex drive had kicked into high gear. It couldn’t help thinking what a great body Jake had. She’d noticed the first moment she set eyes on him, but nothing could compare with having the muscular length of him pressed against her. Nothing.
He had a devastating effect on her that she hadn’t anticipated. True, she’d been kissed many times but not like this. The way Jake kissed triggered a core meltdown that baffled her. No denying it. She was returning the kiss, enjoying every second of it.
He inched away, saying, “There’s something I’ve been dying to do all night.”
She wanted to come up with a sarcastic remark, but it was all she could do to breathe somewhat normally.
He lowered his head and kissed the bare skin where the top of the sheath exposed the slope of her breasts. With soft, moist kisses he sampled the smooth skin. His tongue edged into the hollow between her breasts, caressing first one side, then the other. Desire, pure and elemental, shafted through her. A low moan erupted from her throat before she could stop it.
He lifted his head and flashed her the wicked grin she’d come to expect. “You taste every bit as good as you look.”
“I—I—”
Suddenly, Aunt Thee swung open the door. “Alyssa? Is that you?”
“Y—yes. I’m just saying good night to—”
“Jake Williams. I saw you two on television.” She cinched her lavender bathrobe more tightly around her thin body. “Come in. I’ve just made herbal tea.”
Alyssa said, “Jake’s leav—”
“Tea sounds great.”
Alyssa had no choice but to go inside with Jake. The aftershock from kissing him still had her rattled, but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered. He was chatting with Aunt Thee as if he’d known her all his life, asking her questions about the town house’s history.
In the kitchen, her aunt hovered over Jake, helping him select an herbal tea—blackberry—while she brewed Sleepy Time tea for herself. Alyssa wondered what Jake was up to. He was not the kind of man to drink blackberry tea and chitchat with an old lady.
“What did you see on television?” asked Alyssa as soon as her breathing became more normal.
“I couldn’t sleep,” explained Aunt Thee as she sat down at the oak kitchen table next to Jake. “So I turned on the eleven o’clock news. That dreadful woman Ravelle came on interviewing people at the party.” She looked over to Alyssa, who was leaning against the counter sipping her tea. “I was surprised to see you with the Duvalls.”
“What did you think of the interview?” asked Jake.
“Ravelle reminded viewers about the missing baby just before she spoke to you. Letting everyone know Clay had purchased Rossi Designs certainly made it seem as if they no longer blame you for the baby’s disappearance.”
“I hope you’re right. I don’t want it hanging over my head forever.”
“I’m having an investigator I use look into the case,” Jake told Aunt Thee. “He’s a former FBI agent. I’m sure he’ll get results.”
“That’s wonderful.” Her aunt beamed at Jake, and unexpectedly she appeared less frail, less tired.
Oh, great, thought Alyssa. Just what I need. Jake’s managed to charm the socks off Aunt Thee.
“I see why you’ve fallen for him,” Aunt Thee told her.
“What?” Alyssa set her coffee mug down on the counter with a thunk.
“Ravelle said you two were—now, how did she put it?—an item. Yes, that’s it. An item. She claimed you two were telling everyone you were in love.”
“She announced it on the news?”
“That’s what Thee just said,” Jake told her.
“I wish I’d known—”
“Aunt Thee, there’s nothing to know. Phoebe accused me of still being in love with Clay. Jake said I was in love with him just to get rid of Phoebe. It was a joke.”
“Was it?” Jake asked.
She permitted herself a withering glare. “Stop. The joke is getting old.”
Aunt Thee’s amber eyes twinkled with delight. She was really getting a big kick out of this.
Jake put down his cup. “Seriously, there’s something I want to talk to you both about. After the nurse’s murder—”
“What nurse?” her aunt wanted to know.
Jake gave her the details of Gracie Harper’s death, including the investigator’s suspicion that his questions might have led to the killing. Alyssa had put off telling Aunt Thee, but now she knew. The furrows in her brow deepened as she listened to Jake.
“I think you should have a security camera at the street and another inside the courtyard,” he advised. “In other words, a state-of-the-art security system.”
“I suppose it’s a good idea considering,” Aunt Thee responded. “Do you really think Alyssa’s in danger?”
“I don’t know what to think, but it doesn’t hurt to take precautions.”
“I’ll make arrangeme
nts tomorrow.” Aunt Thee studied Jake a moment, then asked, “Why did you look into the baby’s abduction?”
“I wanted to know why Clay bought Rossi Designs. It didn’t fit into our profile.”
“He’s still in love with Alyssa. That’s why.”
“That’s not what he said tonight,” Alyssa told her. “He claims Rossi Designs was a good buy.”
“I doubt if he would have told you the truth with all those people around,” said Jake.
Aunt Thee rose, a bit unsteady on her feet. Alyssa took her cup from her. “I’m going up to bed. I think I can sleep now.”
Jake stood up and gallantly escorted her aunt out of the kitchen, saying, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Alyssa.”
Aunt Thee looked over her shoulder and winked at Alyssa. Criminy. The guy was bent on causing problems for her.
Jake helped her aunt up the stairs to the second floor, where the bedrooms were. When he returned, Alyssa was waiting for him, holding the front door open.
“I swear, Jake. I’m going to kill you.”
“I live in fear.”
“Stop telling everyone I love you.”
He walked through the door into the courtyard. “Why?”
“Because it isn’t true. You’re causing trouble.”
“Trouble is my middle name.”
“I’ll go with you to the gate. I want to make sure it’s locked.” Walking beside him, she added, “Don’t get any funny ideas about kissing me again.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Just saying the word “kiss” reminded her of how marvelously he did kiss. It hadn’t been just any erotic kiss. It had been a soul kiss most definitely. A prickle of anticipation tiptoed down her spine. They were almost at the gate.
He stopped, his hand on the wrought iron latch. His eyes scaled her body from the toes of her vampy red pumps to her lips.
“Don’t even think about it.”
His wicked grin would have tested a nun’s vows. “What are you doing for birth control?”
For a second she was too astonished to speak. “It’s none of your business.”
“Sure, it is. I’m not kissing you again until we work out the birth control. Because next time I kiss you, we’re going to end up in bed.”