Читать книгу From Paris With Love Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 44
ОглавлениеIf Dev hadn’t just run past a gauntlet of snickering females, he might have been amused by the almost identical expressions of surprise on the faces of his fiancée and her boss. But he had, so he wasn’t.
Alexis Danvers didn’t help matters by looking him up and down with the same scrutiny an auctioneer might give a prize bull. As thin as baling wire, she sized him up with narrowed, calculating eyes before thrusting out a hand tipped with scarlet talons.
“Mr. Hunter. Good to meet you. Sarah says you and she are engaged.”
“Wish I could say the same, Ms. Danvers. And yes, we are.”
He shifted his gaze to Sarah, frowning when he noted her reddened eyes and tearstained cheeks. He didn’t have to search far for the reason behind them. The grainy color photo on Danvers’s desk said it all.
Hell! Sarah had hinted the crap would hit the fan if some magazine other than hers scooped the story. Looked as if it had just hit. He turned back to the senior editor and vectored the woman’s anger in his direction.
“I’m guessing you might be a little piqued that Sarah didn’t clue you in to our relationship before it became public knowledge.”
Danvers dipped her chin in a curt nod. “You guessed right.”
“I’m also guessing you understand why I wasn’t real anxious for another avalanche of obnoxious publicity.”
“If you’re referring to the Ten Sexiest Singles article...”
“I am.”
“Since you declined to let us interview you for that article, Mr. Hunter, everything we printed was in the public domain. Your military service. That cargo thingamajig you patented. Your corporation’s profits last quarter. Your marital status. All we did was collate the facts, glam them up a little, toss in a few pictures and offer you to an admiring audience.”
“Any more admiration from that audience and I’ll have to hire a bodyguard.”
“Or a fiancée?”
She slipped that in with the precision of a surgeon. Dev had to admire her skill even as he acknowledged the hit.
“Or a fiancée,” he agreed. “Luckily I found the perfect one right here at Beguile.”
Which reminded him of why he’d made a second trek to the magazine’s offices.
“Something’s come up,” he told Sarah. “I was going to explain it to you privately, but...”
“You heard from Gina?”
Her breathless relief had Dev swearing silently. Little Miss Gina deserved a swift kick in the behind for putting her sister through all this worry. And he might just be the one to deliver it.
“No, I haven’t.”
The relief evaporated. Sarah’s shoulders slumped. Only for a moment, though. The St. Sebastian steel reasserted itself almost immediately. Good thing, as she’d need every ounce of it for the sucker punch Dev was about to deliver.
“But I did hear from the CEO I’ve been negotiating with for the past few months. He’s ready to hammer out the final details and asked me to fly over to Paris.”
She sensed what was coming. He saw it in the widening of her green eyes, the instinctive shake of her head. Dev ignored both and pressed ahead.
“I told him I would. I also told him I might bring my fiancée. I explained we just got engaged, and that I’m thinking of taking some extra time so we can celebrate the occasion in his beautiful city.”
“Excuse me!” Danvers butted in, her expression frigid. “Sarah has an important job here at Beguile, with deadlines to meet. She can’t just flit off to Paris on your whim.”
“I appreciate that. It would only be for a few days. Maybe a week.”
Dev turned back to Sarah, holding her gaze, holding her to their bargain at the same time.
“We’ve been working this deal for months. I need to wrap it up. Monsieur Girault said his wife would be delighted to entertain you while we’re tied up in negotiations.”
He slipped in that veiled reminder of one of his touchiest problems deliberately. He’d been up front with her. He wanted her to provide cover from Elise Girault. In exchange, he’d let her light-fingered sister off the hook.
Sarah got the message. Her chin inched up. Her shoulders squared. The knowledge she would stick to her side of the bargain gave him a fiercer sense of satisfaction than he had time to analyze right now.
“When are you thinking of going?” she asked.
“My executive assistant has booked us seats on a seven-ten flight out of JFK.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight. You have a current passport, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I can’t just jet off and leave Grandmama!”
“Not a problem. I also had my assistant check with the top home health-care agencies in the city. A licensed, bonded RN can report for duty this afternoon and stay with your grandmother until you get back.”
“Dear God, no!” A shudder shook her. “Grandmama would absolutely hate that invasion of her privacy. I’ll ask our housekeeper, Maria, to stay with her.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Since I’m springing this trip on you with such short notice, please tell your housekeeper I’ll recompense her for her time.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said stiffly.
“Of course it is.”
She started to protest, but Dev suggested a daily payment for Maria’s services that made Sarah blink and her boss hastily intervene.
“The man’s right, kiddo. This is his gig. Let him cover the associated costs.”
She left unsaid the fact that Dev could well afford the generous compensation. It was right there, though, like the proverbial elephant in the room, and convinced Sarah to reluctantly agree.
“We’re good to go, then.”
“I...I suppose.” She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “I need to finish the Sizzling Summer Sea-escapes layout, Alexis.”
“And the ad for that new lip gloss,” her boss put in urgently. “I want it in the June edition.”
“I’ll take my laptop. I can do both layouts on the plane.” She pushed out of her chair and faced Dev. “You understand that my accompanying you on this little jaunt is contingent on Maria’s availability.”
“I understand. Assuming she’s available, can you be ready by three o’clock?”
“Isn’t that a little early for a seven-ten flight?”
“It is, but we need to make a stop on the way out to JFK. Or would you rather go to Cartier now?”
“Cartier? Why do we...? Oh.” She gave a low groan. “An engagement ring, right?”
“Right.”
She shook her head in dismay. “This just keeps getting better and better.”
Her boss took an entirely different view. With a hoarse whoop, she reached for the phone on her desk.
“Perfect! We’ll send a camera crew to Cartier with you.” She paused with the phone halfway to her ear and raked her subordinate with a critical glance. “Swing by makeup on your way out, Sarah. Have them ramp up your color. Wouldn’t hurt to hit wardrobe, too. That’s one of your grandmother’s Dior suits, right? It’s great, but it needs something. A belt, maybe. Or...”
Sarah cut in, alarm coloring her voice. “Hold on a minute, Alexis.”
“What’s to hold? This is exactly what we were talking about before Hunter arrived.”
Sarah shot Dev a swift, guilty glance. It didn’t take a genius for him to fill in the blanks. Obviously, her boss had been pressing to exploit the supposed whirlwind romance between one of her own and Number Three.
As much as it grated, Dev had to admit a splashy announcement of his engagement to Sarah St. Sebastian fell in with his own plans. If nothing else, it would get the word out that he was off the market and, hopefully, keep Madame Girault’s claws sheathed.
“I’ll consent to a few pictures, if that’s what Sarah wants.”
“A few pictures,” she agreed with obvious reluctance, leveling a pointed look at her boss. “Just this one time.”
“Come on, Sarah. How much more romantic can you get than April in Paris? The city of light and love. You and Hunter here strolling hand in hand along the Quai de Conti...”
“No, Alexis.”
“Just think about it.”
“No, Alexis.”
There was something in the brief exchange Dev couldn’t quite get a handle on. The communication between the two women was too emphatic, too terse. He didn’t have time to decipher it now, however.
“Your people get this one shoot,” he told Danvers, putting an end to the discussion. “They can do it at Cartier.” He checked his watch. “Why don’t you call your housekeeper now, Sarah? Make sure she’s available. If she is, we’ll put a ring on your finger and get you home to pack.”
* * *
Sarah battled a headache as the limo cut through the Fifth Avenue traffic. Devon sat beside her on the cloud-soft leather, relaxed and seemingly unperturbed about throwing her life into total chaos. Seething, she threw a resentful glance at his profile.
Was it only two days ago he’d stormed into her life? Three? She felt as though she’d been broadsided by a semi. Okay, so maybe she couldn’t lay all the blame for the situation she now found herself in on Dev. Gina had certainly contributed her share. Still...
When the limo pulled up at the front entrance to Cartier’s iconic flagship store, the dull throb in her temples took on a sharper edge. With its red awnings and four stories of ultra high-end merchandise, the store was a New York City landmark.
Sarah hadn’t discovered until after her grandmother’s heart attack that Charlotte had sold a good portion of her jewels to Cartier over the years. According to a recent invoice, the last piece she’d parted with was still on display in their Estate Jewelry room.
Dev had called ahead, so they were greeted at the door by the manager himself. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hunter. I’m Charles Tipton.”
Gray-haired and impeccably attired, he shook Dev’s hand before bowing over Sarah’s with Old World courtesy.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. St. Sebastian. I’ve had the honor of doing business with your grandmother several times in the past.”
She smiled her gratitude for his discretion. “Doing business with” stung so much less than “helping her dispose of her heritage.”
“May I congratulate you on your engagement?”
She managed not to wince, but couldn’t help thinking this lie was fast taking on a life of its own.
“Thank you.”
“I’m thrilled, of course, that you came to Cartier to shop for your ring. I’ve gathered a selection of our finest settings and stones. I’m sure we’ll find something exactly to your...”
He broke off as a cab screeched over to the curb and the crew from Beguile jumped out. Zach Zimmerman—nicknamed ZZ, of course—hefted his camera bags while his assistant wrestled with lights and reflectors.
“Hey, Sarah!” Dark eyed and completely irreverent about everything except his work, ZZ stomped toward them in his high-top sneakers. “You really engaged to Number Three or has Alexis been hitting the sauce again?”
She hid another wince. “I’m really engaged. ZZ, this is my fiancé, Devon...”
“Hunter. Yeah, I recognize the, uh, face.”
He smirked but thankfully refrained from referring to any other part of Dev’s anatomy.
“If you’ll all please come with me.”
Mr. Tipton escorted them through the first-floor showroom with its crystal chandeliers and alcoves framed with white marble arches. Faint strains of classical music floated on the air. The seductive scent of gardenia wafted from strategically positioned bowls of potpourri.
A short elevator ride took them to a private consultation room. Chairs padded in gold velvet were grouped on either side of a gateleg, gilt-trimmed escritoire. Several cases sparkling with diamond engagement sets sat on the desk’s burled wood surface.
The manager gestured them to the chairs facing the desk but before taking his own he detoured to a sideboard holding a silver bucket and several Baccarat flutes.
“May I offer you some champagne? To toast your engagement, perhaps?”
Sarah glanced at Dev, saw he’d left the choice up to her, and surrendered to the inevitable.
“Thank you. That would be delightful.”
The cork had already been popped. Tipton filled flutes and passed them to Sarah and Dev. She took the delicate crystal, feeling like the biggest fraud on earth. Feeling as well the stupidest urge to indulge in another bout of loud, sloppy tears.
Like many of Beguile’s readers, Sarah occasionally got caught up in the whole idea of romance. You could hardly sweat over layouts depicting the perfect engagement or wedding or honeymoon without constructing a few private fantasies. But this was about as far from those fantasies as she could get. A phony engagement. A pretend fiancé. A ring she would return as soon as she fulfilled the terms of her contract.
Then she looked up from the pale gold liquid bubbling in her flute and met Dev’s steady gaze. His eyes had gone deep blue, almost cobalt, and something in their depths made her breath snag. When he lifted his flute and tipped it to hers, the fantasies begin to take on vague form and shape.
“To my...” he began.
“Wait!” ZZ pawed through his camera bag. “I need to catch this.”
The moment splintered. Like a skater on too-thin ice, Sarah felt the cracks spidering out beneath her feet. Panic replaced the odd sensation of a moment ago. She had to fight the urge to slam down the flute and get off the ice before she sank below the surface.
She conquered the impulse, but couldn’t summon more than a strained smile once ZZ framed the shot.
“Okay,” the photographer said from behind a foot-long lens, “go for it!”
Dev’s gesture with his flute was the same. So was the caress in his voice. But whatever Sarah had glimpsed in his blue eyes a moment ago was gone.
“To us,” he said as crystal clinked delicately against crystal.
“To us,” she echoed.
She took one sip, just one, and nixed ZZ’s request to repeat the toast so he could shoot it from another angle. She couldn’t ignore him or his assistant, however, while she tried on a selection of rings. Between them, they made the process of choosing a diamond feel like torture.
According to Tipton, Dev had requested a sampling of rings as refined and elegant as his fiancée. Unfortunately, none of the glittering solitaires he lifted from the cases appealed to Sarah. With an understanding nod, he sent for cases filled with more elaborate settings.
Once again Sarah could almost hear a clock ticking inside her head. She needed to make a decision, zip home, break the startling news of her engagement to Grandmama, get packed and catch that seven-ten flight. Yet none of the rings showcased on black velvet triggered more than a tepid response.
Like it mattered. Just get this over with, she told herself grimly.
She picked up a square cut surrounded by glittering baguettes. Abruptly, she returned it to the black velvet pad.
“I think I would prefer something unique.” She looked Tipton square in the eye. “Something from your estate sales, perhaps. An emerald, for my birth month. Mounted in gold.”
Her birthday was in November, and the stone for that month was topaz. She hoped Hunter hadn’t assimilated that bit of trivia. The jeweler had, of course, but he once again proved himself the soul of discretion.
“I believe we might have just the ring for you.”
He lifted a house phone and issued a brief instruction. Moments later, an assistant appeared and deposited an intricately wrought ring on the display pad.
Thin ropes of gold were interwoven to form a wide band. An opaque Russian emerald nested in the center of the band. The milky green stone was the size and shape of a small gumball. When Sarah turned the ring over, she spotted a rose carved into the stone’s flat bottom.
Someone with no knowledge of antique jewelry might scrunch their noses at the overly fussy setting and occluded gemstone. All Sarah knew was that she had to wear Grandmama’s last and most precious jewel, if only for a week or so. Her heart aching, she turned to Dev.
“This is the one.”
He tried to look pleased with her choice but didn’t quite get there. The price the manager quoted only increased his doubts. Even fifteen-karat Russian emeralds didn’t come anywhere close to the market value of a flawless three-or four-karat diamond.
“Are you sure this is the ring you want?”
“Yes.”
Shrugging, he extracted an American Express card from his wallet. When Tipton disappeared to process the card, he picked up the ring and started to slip it on Sarah’s finger.
ZZ stopped him cold. “Hold it!”
Dev’s blue eyes went glacial. “Let us know when you’re ready.”
“Yeah, yeah, just hang on a sec.”
ZZ thrust out a light meter, scowled at the reading and barked orders to his assistant. After a good five minutes spent adjusting reflectors and falloff lights, they were finally ready.
“Go,” the photographer ordered.
Dev slipped the ring on Sarah’s finger. It slid over her knuckle easily, and the band came to rest at the base of her finger as though it had been sized especially for her.
“Good. Good.” ZZ clicked a dozen fast shots. “Look up at him, Sarah. Give him some eye sex.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks but she lifted her gaze. Dev wore a cynical expression for a second or two before exchanging it for one more lover-like.
Lights heated the room. Reflectors flashed. The camera shutter snapped and spit.
“Good. Good. Now let’s have the big smooch. Make it hot, you two.”
Tight lines appeared at the corners of Dev’s mouth. For a moment he looked as though he intended to tell ZZ to take his zoom lens and shove it. Then he rose to his feet with lazy grace and held out a hand to Sarah.
“We’ll have to try this without an audience sometime,” he murmured as she joined him. “For now, though...”
She was better prepared this time. She didn’t stiffen when he slid an arm around her waist. Didn’t object when he curled his other hand under her chin and tipped her face to his. Yet the feel of his mouth, the taste and the scent of him, sent tiny shock waves rippling through her entire body.
A lyric from an old song darted into her mind. Something about getting lost in his kiss. That was exactly how she felt as his mouth moved over hers.
“Good. Good.”
More rapid-fire clicks, more flashes. Finally ZZ was done. He squinted at the digital screen and ran through the entire sequence of images before he gave a thumbs-up.
“Got some great shots here. I’ll edit ’em and email you the best, Sarah. Just be sure to credit me if you use ’em on your bridal website.”
Right. Like that was going to happen. Still trying to recover from her second session in Devon Hunter’s arms, Sarah merely nodded.
While ZZ and his assistant packed up, Dev checked his watch. “Do you want to grab lunch before I take you home to pack?”
Sarah thought for a moment. Her number-one priority right now was finding some way to break the news to the duchess that her eldest granddaughter had become engaged to a man she’d met only a few days ago. She needed a plausible explanation. One that wouldn’t trigger Charlotte’s instant suspicion. Or worse, so much worse, make her heart stutter.
Sarah’s glance dropped to the emerald. The stone’s cloudy beauty gave her the bravado to respond to Dev’s question with a completely false sense of confidence.
“Let’s have lunch with Grandmama and Maria. We’ll make it a small celebration in honor of the occasion, then I’ll pack.”
