Читать книгу What The Millionaire Wants...: What the Millionaire Wants... / Spencer's Forbidden Passion - Brenda Jackson - Страница 9

Four

Jack stood on the corner outside the restaurant where he’d gone for dinner and waited for the light to change. Still restless despite the long walk, he hit the speed dial for Fitzpatrick Investigations. When it went to voice mail, he grimaced. “It’s Hawke. I need you to get me whatever you can find on Matthew Peterson, both personal and business. And I need it ASAP. Send whatever you find to my e-mail address.”

Hitting the off button, he considered calling his assistant at home, then opted against it. Unless it was an emergency, Dotty would not be at all happy to have him calling her at home on a Sunday night. As she’d told him often enough, weekends were for family.

Instead, he holstered his cell phone and when the light changed, he headed back down Saint Charles Avenue in the direction of the hotel. The air was cool, but not cold like New York. Not that you could tell by the way the people were dressed with their gloves and heavy coats, he thought. And given the number of red-and-green scarves he’d seen, people were already into the Christmas frenzy. December was still a few days away, but the storefronts and restaurants were already trimmed in lights. Christmas trees filled several windows and wreaths hung from doors. Even the lobby of the Contessa sported pots of red and white poinsettias and a huge tree.

Jack frowned as he thought of how all the Christmas craziness was going to impact him getting business done. He hated the distraction the holidays caused almost as much as he hated weekends. And he really hated weekends, Jack admitted. Nobody wanted to work on weekends and unless you were in the retail or service end of business, nobody did. That meant there were no stock deals to be done, no bank transactions to be made, no business brokering to negotiate and no attorneys or board of directors available to draw up contracts and vote on his deals. He hated that. He hated wasting time and he hated waiting for the hours to tick by until Monday morning rolled around and he could get back to work.

Sidestepping a couple with a baby stroller, Jack continued toward the hotel. Despite what his assistant claimed, he was not a workaholic who needed a wife. He had all the female company he wanted. As for work, it was mastering the game that drove him. That and the need to win. And having Laura in his bed was a bet he was looking forward to winning. He was thinking about all the delectable ways he intended to enjoy Laura when he neared the hotel and spied her standing under the porte cochere with her back to him and a cell phone at her ear. As he drew closer, he caught the tail end of her conversation.

“No. It’s just that I was hoping we could go tonight to see the Celebration in the Oaks together.”

He knew from the doorman that the Celebration in the Oaks was some big Christmas thing at the park. Was she talking to Peterson? he wondered. Was he in town? Was Peterson the reason he hadn’t seen Laura at the hotel all weekend? Jack clenched his jaw as he thought about Laura spending the past two days with his stepbrother. He had never liked Matt Peterson. Even when their fathers had been partners and friends, the two of them had never gotten along. Two years older than him, Peterson had been a manipulative bully who had gotten his kicks by getting Jack into trouble. Later, when his mother had run off with Peterson’s father, Matt had delighted in taunting him, calling him and his father losers.

“Yes. Of course I understand. Business should come first.”

For a moment, Jack heard his mother’s voice in his head, admonishing him for eavesdropping when he’d overheard her making plans to meet his father’s partner. He didn’t care if it was wrong or rude, he decided, and dismissed the memory. He remained where he was, several feet away from Laura, but close enough to listen to what she was saying. Although he made a show of studying the firs that had been draped with white lights near the hotel’s entrance, his focus remained on Laura and her conversation.

“I know. It’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve seen you and I was looking forward to us spending some time together.”

The disappointment in her voice had envy curling in his gut. The fact that he was fairly sure it was his stepbrother she was pining over made the uncharacteristic jealousy he was experiencing all the more difficult to swallow. It also made him angry—with her and with himself—and all the more determined to wipe every memory of Peterson from her mind when he claimed her as his prize. The admission sent a stab of guilt through him. Just as quickly, he dismissed it. He was not using Laura to exact revenge on Peterson, he told himself. The chemistry had been there between them even before he’d known she was involved with his stepbrother. The fact that he would be taking her from Peterson when he bedded her would simply be an unexpected bonus.

“No. Don’t worry about picking me up. I’m just going to take a taxi home and call it an early night.” She paused. “You, too.”

After she flipped the phone closed, she turned around and stopped cold when she saw him. “Hawke, what are you doing out here?”

“I was on my way into the hotel when I thought I recognized you standing over here. I wasn’t sure it was actually you at first since this is the first time I’ve seen you in jeans—which, by the way, look great on you,” he added. It was the truth. Those long legs of hers were made for skirts, but they looked every bit as sexy in the snug-fitting jeans.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Judging by her body language, Jack could see that he was making her nervous and he wasn’t sure if that pleased him or not. He wanted her nervous with anticipation about being in his bed, not nervous because she was afraid of him. “I haven’t seen you around the hotel the past couple of days and was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

“I decided to take the weekend off and catch up on some personal stuff.”

Personal stuff like hooking up with his stepbrother? he wondered and felt that envy burning his gut again. “Have you told your boyfriend about our little bet yet?”

“I haven’t told anyone about our bet,” she informed him.

“Why not? Afraid he won’t like the idea of you sleeping with me?”

“I don’t like the idea that there’s even the remote possibility that I might have to sleep with you. So I’d just as soon no one else know that I agreed to something so stupid.”

Irritated by her response and his need to prove her a liar, Jack inched a step closer. He wanted to haul her up against him, kiss her senseless until she was begging him to make love to her. And because his own need was so great and he feared he wouldn’t stop with a kiss, he did neither. Instead, he reached out and drew the back of his fingers gently down her cheek. His gaze never left her face and he watched her eyes widen, darken at his touch. Then slowly, very slowly, he rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip. Her lips parted. He heard her gasp, felt the warmth of her breath against his fingertips. He was reconsidering kissing her after all when Laura stepped back.

“I need to go,” she said and started to leave.

“Laura, wait,” he called as he followed her toward the hotel’s entrance.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d called her by her name or if she heard the regret in his voice, but she stopped, turned. Before he could apologize for coming on like a Neanderthal, she held up her hand and said, “No, you wait. I don’t know if you’re trying to intimidate me or seduce me, but it isn’t going to work because I’m not going to sleep with you. At least, not unless I have to.”

“Fair enough.”

“I—” Evidently surprised by his answer, she fell silent, leaving the rest of what she’d planned to say unfinished. “Then I guess there’s nothing more to say except good-night. So if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go grab a taxi and head for home.”

“What about the Celebration in the Oaks?” Jack asked as he fell into step beside her. When she slanted a glance his way, he explained, “I couldn’t help overhearing. Sounded like your boyfriend canceled on you.”

He waited for her to confirm or deny his statement. She did neither. Not until they stopped at the end of the line for the taxi stand did she say, “Something came up. I’ll just go another time.”

The disappointment in her voice was also in her expression. And, once again, Jack found himself irritated by the notion of her with Peterson. A burning need to wipe his stepbrother’s memory from her mind and replace it with his spread through him. “Alphonse said this Celebration in the Oaks is some kind of Christmas-lights display in the park. He said that it’s worth seeing.”

“It is,” she assured him as a gust of wind blew down the street. Pulling up the collar of her denim jacket, she brushed the hair away from her eyes. “The gates open at dark every night from now until the end of the year. You should go see it while you’re here.”

“You still here, Ms. Spencer?” Alphonse said as she reached the front of the taxi line. “Evening, Mr. Hawke.”

“Alphonse,” Jack said.

“I thought you were over at City Park looking at the pretty Christmas lights with your—”

“Something came up and we had to cancel,” she told him. “But I’m going to need a taxi to get home.”

“No problem,” he said and whistled for the next cab to come forward. “Sorry you didn’t get to go see the Oaks, ma’am. I know how much you loved going to see them with your grandfather.”

“Thanks, Alphonse. But I’ll just go see them another time.”

The taxi arrived and Alphonse opened the door. But before Laura got in, Jack caught her arm and said, “Why wait? Why not go now? With me.”

Laura still wasn’t sure what had possessed her to agree to accompany Jack to view the Celebration in the Oaks. Granted, her moods had been all over the place for nearly a week now—ever since Jackson Hawke had walked into her office and pulled the rug from beneath her high heels. Her emotions had run the gamut—from anger to despair and fear, from hatred to outrage and lust—and every one of those emotions had been ignited by Hawke. But of all of them, it was her attraction to the man that worried her the most. When she’d found herself wanting him to kiss her, she’d realized just how dangerously close she’d come to making a monumental mistake.

The man was her enemy, she reminded herself. He was a thief out to steal her legacy. And whether she won or lost the foolhardy bet they’d made, she’d be an idiot to risk losing her heart to the man. Yet, when he’d asked her to come with him to the Celebration in the Oaks, there had been something in his eyes, a loneliness, that had touched something deep inside her. She’d remembered the staff telling her that he’d ordered room service and spent Thanksgiving Day alone in his room. It made her realize how fortunate she’d been because she’d never spent any holiday alone. It was one of the advantages, she supposed, of her parents’ multiple marriages. There was always family somewhere and she was always welcome. Last year had been one of the few times she hadn’t celebrated Thanksgiving with her own family, opting instead to join Matt and his family.

She thought of Matt, realized she hadn’t called him back as she had promised. And while she had used her sister, Chloe’s, visit as an excuse for cutting the conversation short, the truth was she hadn’t wanted to go another round with Matt. While she cared deeply for him, she didn’t love him—at least it wasn’t the kind of love that her grandparents had shared, the kind of love that she wanted. And despite his claim, she didn’t believe that Matt really loved her that way, either. If he did, he would have understood why the Contessa meant so much to her. He didn’t. Nor did he understand why she’d left California and returned home to try to salvage the hotel. He certainly wouldn’t understand her desperation now to save it from falling into the hands of Jackson Hawke.

Shifting her glance, she took advantage of the dimly lit backseat and studied Hawke. In the jeans and bomber jacket, he seemed far less forbidding, she thought. With his black hair mussed from the wind and the beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow darkening his jaw, he was, surprisingly, even more handsome. But even dressed casually, there was an air of alertness, a fearlessness and determination that exuded power. There was also something inherently sensual about him that told her this was a man of passion, a man of strong appetites. The fact that he’d made it clear he wanted to indulge those appetites with her should have appalled her. And it did. But it also ignited a longing inside her that had desire curling in her belly whenever she was near him.

Embarrassed by the admission, Laura stared out of the taxi window and warned herself what a mistake it would be if she were ever to let Hawke know just how tempting she found him. Her silent warning was still ringing in her head when the taxi swerved to avoid a pothole and sent her body careening sideways, nearly into Hawke’s lap. Pressing her hands against his chest to right herself, Laura looked up and made the mistake of glancing into his eyes. The heat simmering in them set off a tingling sensation inside her. Suddenly aware that his arms were cradling her, she straightened and scooted back to her side of the seat. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“No problem,” he told her, the husky timbre in his voice only adding to the charged atmosphere.

“Sorry about the rough ride, folks,” the driver said, his eyes meeting theirs in the rearview mirror. “These here streets took a real beating in Katrina, and being under water for all those weeks didn’t help.”

“We understand,” Hawke told him, but his gaze remained fixed on her.

“The streets weren’t in the best of shape even before the storm and now they’re a whole lot worse,” she commented, trying to diffuse the moment. As though to prove her point, the car hit another rut that had her body bumping against his again. He made no comment as she returned to her side of the taxi and this time, she held on to the hand grip above the door.

“She’s right,” the taxi driver commented, apparently oblivious to the tension. “A lot of the streets are still a mess. But the people are starting to come back. And mark my words, New Orleans is gonna be just fine. It’s just gonna take more time than most folks thought.”

While the driver answered a call from his dispatcher, Jack said, “He’s right about it taking longer for the city to recover. I imagine leaving a hotel like the Stratton West to take over operation of the Contessa wasn’t an easy decision.”

“It was for me,” she said, grateful that he was focused on business and not on her.

“Really? Most people in your position wouldn’t have given up a big paycheck with a growing operation so easily.”

“I’m not most people,” she informed him.

“No, you’re not. Maybe that’s why you intrigue me, Laura Spencer.”

Unsure how to respond, Laura chose to remain silent and spent the final minutes of the drive looking out the window, trying to ignore the man seated beside her. Eager to escape the intimacy of the darkened car, she was already unbuckling her seat belt as the taxi pulled up to the entrance of the park.

“This is as far as I can take you, folks,” the driver informed them as he parked the car. “No driving tours allowed anymore, not since Katrina.”

After paying the taxi driver, Jack joined her in line.

“Since you paid for the taxi, I’ll take care of the entry fees.”

But before she could even open her wallet, he handed the admission clerk a crisp fifty-dollar bill. “I’ve got it,” he said. “You can buy us coffee later.”

Too eager to see the display to argue with him, Laura said nothing. Once they had their hands stamped, they walked into the park and she entered a virtual wonderland of lights. She tried to take in everything at once—the towering oak trees dripping with white lights that looked like stars, the Christmas trees and storybook characters fashioned from lights, the delight on the faces of the children as they spied Santa Claus.

“Is it like you remembered it?”

Laura glanced to her side and realized Jack was watching her. “Yes. And no. A lot of it’s the same, but it’s different, too. There used to be more trees, more lights,” she explained as the two of them began to walk through the park. “There was a road over there where cars could drive through and see all the lights. On the really cold or rainy nights, that’s what a lot of people did. There were also horse-drawn carriages you could take the tour in. When Chloe and I were younger, we used to sing ‘Jingle Bells’ and pretend we were riding in a one-horse open sleigh.”

“A sleigh, huh?”

She didn’t have to look at him. She could hear the smile in his voice. Laughing, she shrugged. “What can I say? We’re snow-deprived Southerners.”

He laughed.

The sound surprised her. It was the first time she’d actually heard him laugh. Unable to resist, she sneaked a peek up at him. He was smiling, and not just that slight twitch at the corners of his mouth, but an honest-to-goodness smile that revealed perfect teeth and radiated in his eyes. For the first time since she’d met him, Jackson Hawke actually looked happy, she thought. And she wasn’t sure why, but knowing that she was responsible made her feel warm inside.

“Is that a train I hear?” he asked.

“Yes,” Laura told him, suddenly enjoying herself. “There’s a miniature train ride that goes through the park and there’s this huge elevated train exhibit that has these tiny replicas of the streetcars and historic buildings and landmarks around New Orleans. It’s like a mini-version of the city. Come on, I’ll show it to you.”

Laura showed him the train exhibit. She showed him Storyland. She showed him the vintage rides in the Carousel Gardens, sadly pointing out that several were no longer working because of the damage they’d sustained in the storm. She showed him the gallery of Christmas trees decorated with handmade ornaments made by local schoolchildren that lined the walkways of the Carousel Gardens. Finally, she showed him her favorite part of the exhibit—the antique wooden carousel. “It’s more than a hundred years old,” she told him and explained how the severity of the storm and the exposure to water had left the carousel inoperable. “I know it doesn’t look all that great now because the paint is faded and chipped and so much of the gilding still needs to be redone, but you should have seen it before the storm. It was beautiful.”

“I’m sure it was. It’s amazing it even survived the storm.”

“It’s a miracle. I just hope they’ll be able to get the funds they need to restore it. Since the park doesn’t get any state or federal funding, the only money for repairs has to come from donations and admissions. With the population half of what it was pre-Katrina, there’s less money.” She sighed. “It would be such a shame if other little girls and boys never got to ride on it like I did.”

“Boys, don’t run,” a harried-looking and very pregnant woman called out to the twin boys wearing green jackets and matching hats who were streaking toward them. “Please, would you catch them for me?”

“Whoa,” Jack said, reaching out and corralling them. “Hey, buddies, what do you say we wait for your mom?”

“You’re big,” one of the boys said. “Are you a Saints football player?” he asked, referring to the city’s beloved team.

“Afraid not. But you guys are so fast, I bet you could play for them when you get big.”

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said as she reached them. She smoothed a hand over her stomach. “Their little sister makes keeping up with them harder than it used to be.”

“Not a problem,” Jack told her. “We were just chatting about football. I think you’ve got yourself two running backs in the making here.”

The woman laughed and ruffled their heads. “Their daddy would love that. In fact, he’s home watching Sunday-night football right now. I must have been out of my mind to not make him come with me.”

“We’re going to see The Cajun Night Before Christmas exhibit,” one of the boys said.

“Are you now?” Jack replied.

Both boys nodded. “It’s supposed to be just like the book. If you want to see it, you just need to follow this road.”

“Over there?” he asked, pointing in the direction they’d indicated.

“Yeah.”

Still hunkered down beside the boys, Jack lowered his voice and said, “You know, I could have sworn I saw one of Santa’s elves hiding up in one of those trees over there.”

Both boys’ eyes grew wide as they looked toward the trees. “Really?”

Jack nodded. “I figure they must be here, checking out the boys and girls and reporting to Santa which ones are extra good. You boys might want to walk with your mom so they can tell Santa how good you two are.”

“Come on, Mom. You’d better hold our hands and take it slow.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t run. You might trip or something,” the other twin added.

“Thanks,” the woman mouthed as she and her sons headed in the direction of the trees with the elves.

“That was really sweet of you. I’m sure their mother was very grateful,” Laura told him, touched by his actions.

“Hey, I was telling the truth. I think I did see an elf in those trees,” he said, smiling once again.

“Which tree?”

“That one right over there,” he said and, grabbing her by the hand, he brought her several yards back from the road and pointed up to a huge oak. “That one. I saw a pair of little green eyes peeking out of those branches.”

Laura peered up at the branches in question. “I don’t see anything,” she told him and when she turned to look at him, the smile dissolved on her lips. He was still holding her hand and he was watching her with an intensity, with a longing, that stole her breath.

She didn’t know how it happened. She didn’t know if he took another step toward her or if she moved toward him. Then his mouth was on hers. The kiss was gentle, slow, just a simple brushing of lips against lips. Then she felt the tip of his tongue. Sighing, she opened her mouth to him. Heat exploded inside her and just when her senses hit overload, he was easing back, ending the kiss. Still dazed and wondering why he had stopped, she heard the voices. A family was approaching on the path near them.

“I didn’t think you would want an audience,” he said simply.

He was right. She wouldn’t and it embarrassed her that she had been so engrossed in the kiss that she hadn’t heard them. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. For a moment there, I considered not stopping,” he told her as he brushed his thumb along her jaw.

Confused and shaken by his effect on her, Laura stepped back and in doing so pulled her hand free. She walked back over to the carousel to take another look at it before leaving.

Jack followed and stopped beside her. “So tell me about the carousel.”

“What do you want to know?”

“About the history of it. How long it’s been here. How old you were the first time you came to see it.”

Laura filled him in on the history, or as much of it as she knew. She told him how it had been her grandfather who had first brought her to see it. “I was four at the time,” she told him. “My mom was married to Jeffrey Baxter, the soap star, then, and we were living in California. She had just had Chloe and was finding a four-year-old and a newborn a lot to handle. So she sent me down here to visit my grandfather. I was feeling a little homesick, so he took me to see the Christmas lights in the oaks to distract me. And the minute I saw the carousel, I fell in love with it.”

“Which one was your horse?” he asked.

Laura looked over at him, surprised at his perceptiveness. “The palomino over there, with the red saddle,” she said, pointing out the horse she had always ridden. “I named him Pegasus.”

“The flying horse, huh?” he remarked because it was one of the horses crafted with its legs in flight.

“Yes,” she said and laughed at herself. “I really did think he could fly. In fact, I had myself convinced that the carousel was enchanted and that when everyone left for the night all the horses and animals would come to life.”

“Ever test your theory?”

“Yes,” she admitted proudly and smiled at the memory. “When I was six, I snuck away from my grandfather just before closing time and went and hid in the carousel house.”

“What happened?”

“None of the carousel animals came to life, but everyone else did. My grandfather and the security guards and staff were looking for me. My grandfather thought I’d been kidnapped and everyone was upset. I got in a lot of trouble with my granddad and wasn’t allowed to have any desserts or treats for an entire week after that.”

He let out a whistle. “No desserts for a week? That must have been really tough,” he said, but from the grin on his face, it was clear he didn’t think it had been tough at all.

“Trust me, it was torture,” she assured him with a laugh. “I’d have sooner given up my favorite doll than give up dessert for a week.”

“Have a sweet tooth, do you?” he teased.

“I was six,” she pointed out. Then recalling how his appearance had caused her to hit her candy stash, she amended her answer by saying, “I’ve gotten better.” But the memory of why she’d hit the candy stash in the first place brought reality crashing back. The man she had been sharing such tender moments with was Jackson Hawke. Her enemy. The man who was trying to foreclose on her hotel. The man with whom she’d made the crazy bet and agreed to sleep with if she lost. “It’s getting late. I’d better see about getting a taxi and heading home.”

“What about the rest of the exhibit?” he asked.

“I think we’ve seen everything.”

“What about that new one—that Cajun story one.”

“The Cajun Night Before Christmas. It’s an animated children’s story by a local author and artist. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be interested,” she said honestly. In fact, she wouldn’t have thought he’d be interested in any of the exhibits, but he’d seemed to genuinely enjoy himself. And if she were honest, she had enjoyed sharing them with him.

“I wouldn’t have thought I’d be interested, either, but I am.”

The man confused her. He was a mass of contradictions. Just when she had him pegged as a rich and arrogant man who would wager a fifteen-million-dollar note against a night with her in his bed, he spendt an evening looking at Christmas lights with her and listening to stories about her childhood. On the one hand, she despised the businessman who threatened to take away a part of her heritage. On the other hand, she liked the kind man who had been so gentle with the little boys and considerate of their mother. She liked the man who had laughed with her, the man who had made her first visit to the carousel since her grandfather’s death a happy one.

“Laura?”

The sound of him calling her by her first name snapped her out of her reverie. “Yes?”

“You zoned out there for a minute. Either that or I shocked you into silence. Which is it?”

“Both,” she admitted.

“So what do you say? Do you want to see that other exhibit with me?”

Laura hesitated. Spending more time with this man wasn’t a good idea, she told herself. She was beginning to like him, feel drawn to him. The last thing she could afford was to lose her focus when the Contessa was at stake. “I think I’ll pass. But you go on ahead.”

“Maybe another time, then,” he said. “I’ll head back to the hotel.”

But when the taxi arrived, Jack insisted on sharing it with her. He also insisted the driver take her home first. Once they reached her place and she’d tucked her share of the cab fare into his hand, she said, “Good night.”

He touched her arm. “Laura?”

She paused, turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Thanks for tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And in the morning, he would be her enemy again, she reminded herself as she quickly exited the taxi and raced up the steps to her house.