by Meryl Sawyer
“You’re hopeless.”
“Considering the source, that’s high praise.” He opened the gate. “Think about the birth control. We’re going to need it.”
Without another word, she locked the gate behind him. She stood there a moment, leaning against the gate. Good heavens, what had she gotten herself into?
She slowly walked back into the house and went into the kitchen to clean up. She’d been taking birth control pills for several years to help with her irregular periods, but she had no intention of sharing this information with Jake. He was right about one thing, she silently conceded. If he kissed her again, they probably would end up in bed.
It had been over a year since her last relationship. Her biological clock was ticking well on its way to becoming a time bomb. She’d like to find the right man, and it wasn’t Jake. He was too … Too what?
The buzzer on the front gate sounded. She hurried to the front door, not wanting Jake to ring the bell again in case Aunt Thee had been able to fall asleep. She didn’t know what she was going to tell him, she thought, crossing the shadowy courtyard, but he wasn’t starting anything tonight.
She unlatched the gate and swung it open. “You—”
“I know it’s late, but—”
“Clay. What are you doing here?”
He stepped into the courtyard before she could stop him. “I’ve been in my car down the street, waiting for Jake to leave.”
“What do you want?”
“I’ve waited years to talk to you. I need you to listen to me, then I’ll leave, if that’s what you decide.”
“All right.” She led him across the courtyard, asking herself how she felt about him. With all that had happened tonight, she hadn’t taken the time to examine her emotions.
Initially, she’d reverted and become the awestruck young girl she’d been when they’d gotten together at Tulane. Realizing he’d been intimate with Maree Winston had reminded Alyssa of something she’d known, but hadn’t been able to face when she was in love with him. Clay was an astonishingly handsome man, so much so that women threw themselves at him, and he wasn’t strong enough to resist temptation.
She took him into the antique-filled living room, saying, “We’ll need to be quiet. Aunt Thee is upstairs sleeping. I don’t want to wake her.” She turned on every light; she wanted to look directly into his eyes when he talked to her. “Have a seat.”
She waited until he settled into the love seat then sat down in a wingback chair opposite him. A small coffee table with books on Italian art and an orchid plant in one of Aunt Thee’s porcelain vases separated them.
“I know you’re angry,” he began. “I don’t blame you. I’m responsible for what happened with Phoebe. You know my parents forced me to escort her to the Mardi Gras parties. I usually arranged to meet you afterward, right?”
She let him hang there, not saying a word.
“You would come over to my apartment, and we’d spend the night together. One night when I came home, I’d had more to drink than I should have. My roommate, Alan, said you were waiting for me in my room. I should have realized that was unusual. You’d never come over unless I called.”
Because I was insecure and needed to know you wanted to see me, she silently conceded. She’d grown up with Hattie LeCroix telling her how inferior she was to Phoebe. Back then, she’d believed it. Aunt Thee’s love and support had helped overcome her insecurities.
“It wasn’t until later that I found out Phoebe and Alan had cooked up the plan. They’d bet that I couldn’t tell you two apart. It was dark in the bedroom, music was playing, and Phoebe was in bed naked. Before I knew it, we were … well, you know. When I woke up the next morning, Phoebe was sleeping beside me.”
He’d explained this before, but it had been over the telephone when she’d fled to Italy. Hearing this and seeing him face-to-face caught her by surprise. An almost imperceptible note of pleading mingled with guilt infused his voice. She thought he sounded sincere and almost felt sorry for him.
“I should have explained to you when it happened, but I was embarrassed. I didn’t think anything would come of it. Then Phoebe announced she was pregnant.”
“After one night together? That’s hard to believe.”
He leaned forward, his blue eyes looking directly into hers. “Just once. I swear. I could hardly stand to be with Phoebe after that.”
“You married her.” She marveled at the way his expression changed at the cold edge of irony in her voice. She wasn’t the same young woman he could easily manipulate, and it surprised him.
He rose, crossed the room, and stared out the window at the landscape lights in the courtyard. She wondered what he was thinking, but didn’t ask.
He returned to his seat and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes on her. “You’re right. I did marry Phoebe. I’m not proud of the way I allowed my father to manipulate me. I was young with no money of my own. I had no choice but to marry Phoebe. I was the only one upset about it—except for you, of course—my parents, the LeCroixs, and Phoebe were thrilled.”
She had to admit this much was true. The LeCroixs were close friends with Clay’s family, and more important, Hattie LeCroix envied the Duvalls because the family had more money and a lineage that could be traced back to the earliest Creole families.
“Please believe me, Alyssa. I’m ashamed of what happened, of not being strong enough to tell them all to drop dead and marry you.”
He sounded so contrite that she had to remind herself Clay had a knack for getting what he wanted. “I believe you,” she told him. “But what difference does it make?”
“Things have changed. I sold Duvall Imports to TriTech. I’m my own man now. My career—”
“You’re still married.”
His eyes narrowing, he sighed heavily. “Not for long. We can be together now.”
“Stop. Do not even think about divorcing Phoebe on account of me.”
“Don’t tell me you’re involved with Jake. He’s not your type. He—”
“You don’t know me, Clay. I’m not the naïve young girl I was when I left here. Jake Williams is exactly the kind of man I like. He has something you never had.”
“Oh, really. Just what is that?”
“Integrity. He would have immediately told me had he mistakenly made love to my cousin.” She could see the anger simmering in his eyes and the rigid set of his jaw. “He would never rest until he found out what had happened to his son.”
He glared at her, frowning. “You’re assuming the baby was my son.”
“If he wasn’t, why did you marry Phoebe?”
“The LeCroixs ambushed me. I was having dinner with my parents, and they came over. I didn’t have a chance to get my father aside to tell him I had my doubts. When they left, it was too late. Our mothers were planning the wedding, and my father wouldn’t hear of trying to get out of the marriage.”
Alyssa didn’t know what to say. She’d never considered the possibility the baby wasn’t Clay’s. Phoebe always had been an outrageous flirt, but Alyssa wasn’t sure how far she’d carried these encounters. She was extremely careful not to upset her parents, and many times, her brother, Wyatt, covered up when she’d come in very late at night. Alyssa didn’t know how she’d behaved at Old Miss when she’d been unsupervised.
“I believe Phoebe was having an affair with an older married man. He couldn’t marry her—even if he wanted to—without causing a major scandal. That’s why she pinned it on me.”
“DNA tests weren’t as common years ago, but a blood test could have determined—”
“I told Phoebe I wanted tests as soon as the baby was born.”
“Did you explain all this to the police?” she asked, wondering if his threat could have led to the disappearance of the child.
“Yes, but they didn’t think it mattered.”
She gazed at him and unexpectedly thought of Jake. What would he have done in the same situation? She doubted his fat
her could have manipulated him into marriage. Jake would not have such a callous attitude concerning an innocent baby.
“Did you know Gracie Harper was murdered?”
“Who’s she?”
“The nurse on duty the night the baby disappeared.”
“Now I remember her.” He didn’t sound particularly interested. “What does this have to do with us?”
“Jake hired an investigator to do a background check on me. This raised questions about the disappearance. It might have made someone nervous about what Gracie might say.”
“What would make her change her story after all this time?”
Alyssa didn’t want to tell Clay the nurse had called the investigator and had arranged to meet him. She wasn’t sure it had been made public. “I have no idea what the nurse was thinking.”
“Let’s talk about us.” There was an edge to his voice now. “I want you to give me another chance.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you, Clay. That’s final. I’ve arranged to deal directly with Jake in business matters.”
“You’re in love with him.” It was clear he’d expected her to take him back, and since she hadn’t, she must be in love with someone else.
“I’m not sure how I feel, but I know there isn’t anything between us.” She was sure she knew the answer, but she asked, “Why did you buy Rossi Designs?”
Clay stood up; anger etched his patrician features. “You know why.”
CHAPTER 11
Jake glanced up from his video conference call monitor and saw his father walking into his office unannounced. Max usually stopped by once a week for lunch and to ask what was happening, but he always called first.
“I’ll be off in a minute,” Jake mouthed.
Max paced the length of the bank of windows facing the Mississippi, clenching and unclenching his right hand. From the set of his jaw and the agitated movements with his fist, Jake knew something was wrong. Just what he didn’t need, thought Jake.
The conference call finally ended, and Jake hung up asking, “I wasn’t expecting you. Is something the matter?”
Max turned and faced him, Not for the first time, Jake thought he’d look like Max when he was older.
“I need to talk to you. Let’s go to lunch.”
Jake really couldn’t spare the time, not if he wanted to finish the pile of work on his desk and show Alyssa the shop he thought she should take, but he followed Max out the door. He paused long enough to tell Spencer to reschedule his appointments.
“I want to talk to you about Rossi Designs,” Max said while they waited for the elevator.
“What about it?”
“I think you should get rid of it.”
Once Jake would have agreed, but not now. They stepped into the elevator, and Jake had to remind himself this was a state-of-the-art elevator. It wasn’t likely to get stuck.
“Don’t you agree?” asked Max.
“No, I don’t. It’s profitable with the potential to be even more profitable.”
“Well, I don’t like the company.”
The high-speed elevator reached the lobby and the doors slid open. As they walked out of the building, it occurred to Jake that his father hadn’t asked to see the file on Rossi Designs.
“What don’t you like about the company?” asked Jake, more than a little irritated. This was the second time his father had interfered in the company since retiring. He’d promised to step aside and allow Jake to run the show. Then Max had unexpectedly reappeared, insisting TriTech purchase Duvall Imports.
Max’s dark eyes were exactly like the ones that greeted Jake each morning in the mirror. Right now those eyes were astonishingly troubled. “I don’t like that Rossi woman.”
Jake took a quick breath, surprised. He’d been prepared to hear his father say a jewelry company wasn’t a good fit for TriTech. “Last night you seemed to like her. What changed your mind?”
“I’ve been talking to people. Alyssa Rossi is trouble.”
“Why in hell would you listen to gossip? You told me people gossiped about you and called you a Redneck. They snubbed you until you had so much money they couldn’t.”
“Yeah, well, this is different.”
Jake heard the stubborn tone in his father’s voice, but he was just as obstinate. “Doesn’t seem any different to me.”
They were outside now walking along the boulevard toward the nearby Windsor Court Hotel. His father liked to have lunch upstairs in the pricey Grill Room. Moss-green streetcars crowded with tourists clanged by, and vendors strolled along, hawking souvenir voodoo dolls and Mardi Gras beads along with T-shirts. The spring air was warm and laden with moisture. Jake loosened his tie and waited for his father to say more.
“I hear you’re in love with her.”
“Great. Ravelle strikes again.”
“Is it true?”
“No, I’m not in love with Alyssa Rossi.” True, he silently told himself. He wasn’t falling in love or anything so stupid, but he was interested. Okay, okay, more than just interested, but not in love.
“Glad to hear it. She’s nothin’ but trouble.”
Jake was stunned at how his father had let gossip persuade him to hate Alyssa, but then, did he really know his father? He’d appeared out of nowhere and wanted to make up for lost time. Jake had told him to drop dead. Where had Max been when he was growing up?
Against his better judgment, Jake had gone to New Orleans for a trial visit. He found he liked TriTech and stayed. The business world fascinated and challenged him. He’d worked from the crack of dawn until well after midnight, playing catch up. He didn’t have the education most men did when they headed a company as large as TriTech.
“Clay Duvall handled the acquisition. You told me to delegate, and I have. I wouldn’t want to undermine Duvall.”
Max didn’t respond, and they entered the lobby of the posh Windsor Court Hotel. As usual they took the stairs to the second floor where the Grill Room was located. On the way up, Jake decided this was bound to happen sooner or later. TriTech was his father’s business, and no matter what he’d said, Max had been unable to resist meddling.
“Right this way,” said the maitre d’ when they walked into the Grill Room.
A knot like a cement fist formed in Jake’s stomach. How was he going to handle this? In the years they’d been together, they’d had a few disagreements, but never a fight. They got along, but they weren’t close.
Max had tried to be friends with Jake, but they soon discovered they shared few interests. Jake figured he looked like his father, but his personality was more like his mother’s. She’d been a loner and so was he.
Jake sensed this would prove to be more than a simple disagreement. Max had built TriTech from nothing into a powerhouse. He hadn’t done it by being petty. This seemed to be very important to him. Why?
As they approached the window table they were always given, Jake spotted Phoebe Duval sitting at it, sipping a martini. What in hell?
The sexy blonde was wearing a dress that matched her blue eyes. It was cut low enough to reveal an impressive cleavage. She knew how to make the most out of what she had. Jake would give her that.
“Phoebe’s joining us for lunch,” announced Max.
“You’re lookin’ great. Just great.” Max bent over and kissed Phoebe on the cheek.
Max sat down beside Phoebe, and Jake had no choice but to sit looking directly at Phoebe. Aw, shit. How stupid could he be? Phoebe—not gossips—had turned his father against Alyssa.
“Aren’t you going to say hello to Phoebe?”
Jake raised his eyebrows and went into his joking mode. “Hello, Your Majesty.”
“She was the best lookin’ Mardi Gras queen New Orleans has ever had.”
Jake tried for another joke, but his brain refused to cooperate. His father had courted the Duvalls for years. Their social status, their connections, impressed him. He’d insisted TriTech acquire Duvall Impor
ts to get closer to the family, but Jake noticed the Duvalls hadn’t bothered to show up at the party last night. They were at their condo in Sarasota.
“I know you don’t like me,” Phoebe said to Jake, “but—”
“What gave you the first clue?”
Max’s voice boomed. “I won’t have you talking to her like that!”
Several heads turned to look at their table. Jake didn’t give a rat’s ass. He had a suspicion he knew where this was going, and he didn’t want to go there.
“Why don’t you like me?” Phoebe’s sultry voice threatened tears.
She’s missed her calling. Phoebe should have gone to Hollywood instead of hanging around New Orleans living on past glory.
“Let’s just say I’m old-fashioned,” Jake responded. “I like women who are faithful to their husbands.”
“I am faithful to Clay.” Phoebe directed her response to Max. “You know that.”
“Could have fooled me. You come on to every man who crosses your path.”
Max smiled reassuringly at Phoebe. “It’s just harmless flirting.”
“Yeah, right.”
The waiter came by, gave them menus, and took their drink order.
“I’m not staying for lunch,” Jake told them. “I assume you two want to talk to me about something. Let’s talk.”
Phoebe hesitated, looking imploringly at Max as if she was too timid to say what was on her mind. Damn, she was good. His father was buying it big-time. Just goes to show you even the toughest self-made man had an Achilles’ heel.
“It’s about Alyssa Rossi,” Max said for Phoebe.
“Why am I not surprised?”
Max shook his finger in front of Jake. “Don’t be such a wiseass.”
“The apple never falls very far from the tree.” Jake knew he should handle this differently. Okay, more maturely. But he was too royally pissed. How could his father allow Phoebe to manipulate him?
Their drinks arrived and the waiter rattled off the day’s specials oblivious to the tense silence. Jake drank his coffee and waited for them to make the next move.
“Act your age,” his father said. “Just listen to Phoebe.”