Читать книгу From Paris With Love Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 54
ОглавлениеSarah came awake to blinding sunshine and the fuzziness that results from too little sleep. She rolled over, grimacing at the scratchy pull of her slept-in slacks and turtleneck, and squinted at the empty spot beside her.
No Gina.
And no note, she discovered when she crawled out of bed and checked the sunny sitting room. More than a little annoyed, she padded into the bathroom. Face scrubbed, she appropriated her sister’s hairbrush and found a complimentary toothbrush in the basket of amenities provided by the hotel.
Luckily, she and Gina wore the same size, if not the same style. While she was content to adapt her grandmother’s vintage classics, her sister preferred a trendier, splashier look. Sarah raided Gina’s underwear for a pair of silky black hipsters and matching demibra, then wiggled into a chartreuse leotard patterned in a wild Alice In Wonderland motif. She topped them with a long-sleeved, thigh-skimming wool jumper in electric blue and a three-inch-wide elaborately studded belt that rode low on her hips.
No way was she wearing her red sweater coat with these eye-popping colors. She’d look like a clown-school dropout. She flicked a denim jacket off a hangar instead, hitched her purse over her shoulder and went in search of her sister.
She found Gina outside on the terrace, chatting with an elderly couple at the next table. She’d gathered her blond curls into a one-sided cascade and looked impossibly chic in pencil-legged jeans, a shimmering metallic tank and a fur-trimmed Michael Kors blazer. When she spotted Sarah, she jumped up and rushed over with her arms outstretched.
“You’re finally up! You got in so late last night I... Omigod! What happened to your face?”
Sarah was more anxious to hear her sister’s story than tell her own. “I got crosswise of a metal strut.”
“I’m so sorry! Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore.”
“Thank goodness. We’ll have to cover it with foundation when we go back upstairs. Do you want some coffee?”
“God, yes!”
Sarah followed her back to the table and smiled politely when Gina introduced her to the elderly couple. They were from Düsseldorf, were both retired schoolteachers and had three children, all grown now.
“They’ve been coming to Lake Lucerne every spring for forty-seven years to celebrate their anniversary,” Gina related as she filled a cup from the carafe on her table. “Isn’t that sweet?”
“Very sweet.”
Sarah splashed milk into the cup and took two, quick lifesaving gulps while Gina carried on a cheerful conversation with the teachers. As she listened to the chatter, Sarah began to feel much like the tumbling, upside-down Alices on the leotard. Had she fallen down some rabbit hole? Imagined the panic in her sister’s voice last night? Dreamed the sobs?
The unreal feeling persisted until Gina saw that she’d downed most of her coffee. “I told the chambermaid to wait until you were up to do the room. She’s probably in there now. Why don’t we take a walk and...and talk?”
The small stutter and flicker of nervousness told Sarah she hadn’t entered some alternate universe. With a smile for the older couple, Gina pushed her chair back. Sarah did the same.
“Let’s go down to Chapel Bridge,” she suggested. “We can talk there.”
The Rebstock sat directly across the street from Lucerne’s centuries-old Church of Leodegar, named for the city’s patron saint. Just beyond the needle-spired church, the cobbled street angled downward, following the Reuss River as it flowed into the impossibly blue lake. Since the Reuss bisected the city, Lucerne could claim almost as many bridges as Venice. The most famous of them was the Chapel Bridge, or Kapellbrücke. Reputed to be the oldest covered wooden bridge in Europe, it was constructed in the early 1300s. Some sections had to be rebuilt after a 1993 fire supposedly sparked by a discarded cigarette. But the octagonal watchtower halfway across was original, and the window boxes filled with spring flowers made it a favorite meandering spot for locals and tourists alike.
Zigzagging for more than six hundred feet across the river, it was decorated with paintings inside that depicted Lucerne’s history and offered wooden benches with stunning views of the town, the lake and the snowcapped Alps. Gina sank onto a bench some yards from the watchtower. Sarah settled beside her and waited while her sister gnawed on her lower lip and stared at the snowy peaks in uncharacteristic silence.
“You might as well tell me,” she said gently after several moments. “Whatever’s happened, we’ll find a way to fix it.”
Gina exhaled a long, shuddering breath. Twisting around on the bench, she reached for Sarah’s hands.
“That’s the problem. I came here to fix it. But at the last minute, I couldn’t go through with it.”
“Go through with what?”
“Terminating the pregnancy.”
Sarah managed not to gasp or groan or mangle the fingers entwined with hers, but it took a fierce struggle.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Barely. I peed on the stick even before I missed my period. I thought... I was sure we were safe. He wore a condom.” She gave a short, dry laugh. “Actually, we went through a whole box of condoms that weekend.”
“For God’s sake, I don’t need the details. Except maybe his name. I assume we’re talking about your ski instructor.”
“Who?”
“The cuddly ski instructor you texted me about.”
“Oh. There isn’t any ski instructor. I just needed an excuse for my sudden trip to Switzerland.”
That arrowed straight to Sarah’s heart. Never, ever would she have imagined that her sister would keep a secret like this from her.
“Oh, Gina, why did you need an excuse? Why didn’t you just tell me about the baby?”
“I couldn’t. You’ve been so worried about Grandmama and the doctor bills. I couldn’t dump this problem on you, too.”
She crunched Sarah’s fingers, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“But last night... After I canceled my appointment at the clinic...it all sort of came down on me. I had to call you, had to talk to you. Then, when I heard your voice, I just lost it.”
When she burst into wrenching sobs, Sarah wiggled a hand free of her bone-crushing grip and threw an arm around her.
“I’m glad you lost it,” she said fiercely as Gina cried into her shoulder. “I’m glad I was close enough to come when you needed me.”
They rocked together, letting the tears flow, until Gina finally raised a tear-streaked face.
“You okay?” Sarah asked, fishing a tissue out of her purse.
“No, but...but I will be.”
Thank God. She heard the old Gina in that defiant sniff. She handed her the tissue and hid a grin when her sister honked like a Canadian goose.
“I meant to ask you about that, Sarah.”
“About what?”
“How you could get here so fast. What were you doing in Paris?”
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s focus on you right now. And the baby. Who’s the father, Gina, and does he know he is one?”
“Yes, to the second part. I was so wigged-out last night, I called him before I called you.” She scrunched up her nose. “He didn’t take it well.”
“Bastard!”
“And then some.” Her tears completely gone now, Gina gave an indignant sniff. “You wouldn’t believe how obnoxious and overbearing he is. And I can’t believe I fell for him, even for one weekend. Although in my defense, he gives new meaning to the phrase sex on the hoof.”
“Who is this character?”
“No one you know. I met him in L.A. My company catered a party for him.”
The bottom dropped out of Sarah’s stomach. She could have sworn she heard it splat into the weathered boards. She stared at the snow-covered peaks in the distance, but all she could see was the surveillance video of Gina. At Dev’s house in L.A. Catering a private party.
“What’s...?” She dragged her tongue over suddenly dry lips. Her voice sounded hollow in her ears, as though it came from the bottom of a well. “What’s his name?”
“Jack Mason.” Gina’s lip curled. “Excuse me, John Harris Mason, the third.”
For a dizzying moment, Sarah couldn’t catch her breath. She only half heard the diatribe her sister proceeded to pour out concerning the man. She caught that he was some kind of ambassador, however, and that he worked out of the State Department.
“How in the world did you hook up with someone from the State Department?”
“He was in L.A. for a benefit. A friend introduced us.”
“Oh. Well...”
Since Gina seemed to have finally run out of steam, Sarah asked if she’d eaten breakfast.
“No, I was waiting for you to wake up.”
“The baby...” She gestured at her sister’s still-flat stomach. “You need to eat, and I’m starved. Why don’t you go back to the hotel and order us a gargantuan breakfast? I’ll join you after I make a few calls.”
“You’re not going to call Grandmama?” Alarm put a squeak in Gina’s voice. “We can’t drop this on her long-distance.”
“Good Lord, no! I need to call Paris. I raced out so fast last night, I didn’t pack my things or check out of the hotel.”
Or wait for Dev to hotfoot it back to the Hôtel Verneuil. Sarah didn’t regret that hasty decision. She wouldn’t have made the Swiss Air flight if she’d waited. But she did regret the anger that had flared between them.
No need to tell Gina about Dev right now. Not when she and Sarah were both still dealing with the emotional whammy of her pregnancy. She’d tell her later, after things had calmed down a bit.
Which was why she waited until her sister was almost to the exit of the wooden tunnel to whip out her phone. And why frustration put a scowl on her face when Dev didn’t answer his cell.
She left a brief message. Just a quick apology for her spurt of temper last night and a request for him to return her call as soon as possible. She started to slip the phone back into her purse, but decided to try his hotel room. The house phone rang six times before switching to the hotel operator, as it had last night.
“May I help you?”
“This is Sarah St. Sebastian. I’m trying to reach Monsieur Hunter.”
“I’m sorry, Lady Sarah. Monsieur Hunter has checked out.”
“What! When?”
“Early this morning. He told Monsieur LeBon an urgent business matter had come up at home that required his immediate attention. He also instructed us to hold your room for you until you return.”
For the second time in less than ten minutes, Sarah’s stomach took a dive.
“Did he...? Did he leave a message for me?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure, ma’am.”
“I see. Thank you.”
The hand holding the phone dropped to her lap. Once again she stared blindly at the dazzling white peak. Long moments later, she gave her head a little shake and pushed off the bench.
Gina needed her. They’d work on her problem first. Then, maybe, work on Sarah’s. When she was calmer and could put this business with Dev in some kind of perspective.
* * *
The scene that greeted her when she walked into the Rebstock’s lobby did nothing to promote a sense of calm. If anything, she was jolted into instant outrage by the sight of a tawny-haired stranger brutally gripping one of Gina’s wrists. She was hammering at him with her free fist. The receptionist dithered ineffectually behind the counter.
“What are you doing?”
Sarah flew across the lobby, her hands curled into talons. She attacked from the side while Gina continued to assault the front. Between them, they forced the stranger to hunch his shoulders and shield his face from fifteen painted, raking fingernails.
“Hey! Back off, lady.”
“Let her go!”
Sarah got in a vicious swipe that drew blood. The man, whom she now suspected was the overbearing, obnoxious ambassador, cursed.
“Jesus! Back off, I said!”
“Not until you let Gina go.”
“The hell I will! She’s got some explaining to do, and I’m not letting her out of my sight until...”
He broke off, as startled as Sarah when she was thrust aside by 180 pounds of savage male.
“What the...?”
That was all Mason got out before a fist slammed into his jaw. He stumbled back a few steps, dragging Gina with him, then took a vicious blow to the midsection that sent him to his knees.
Still, he wouldn’t release Gina’s wrist. But instead of fighting and twisting, she was now on her knees beside him and waving her free hand frantically.
“Dev! Stop!”
Sarah was terrified her sister might be hurt in the melee. Or the baby. Dear God, the baby. She leaped forward and hung like a monkey from Dev’s arm.
“For God’s sake, be careful! She’s pregnant!”
The frantic shout backed Dev off but produced the opposite reaction in Mason. His brown eyes blazing, he wrenched Gina around to face him.
“Pregnant? What the hell is this? When you called me last night, all weepy and hysterical, you said you’d just come back from the clinic.”
“I had just come back from the clinic!”
“Then what...?” His glance shot to her stomach, ripped back to her face. “You didn’t do it?”
“I...I couldn’t.”
“But you couldn’t be bothered to mention that little fact before I walked out on a critical floor vote, jumped a plane and flew all night to help you through a crisis you also didn’t bother to tell me about until last night.”
“So I didn’t choose my words well,” Gina threw back. “I was upset.”
“Upset? You were damned near incoherent.”
“And you were your usual arrogant self. Let me go, dammit.”
She wrenched her wrist free and scrambled to her feet. Mason followed her up, his angry glance going from her to their small but intensely interested audience. His eyes narrowed on Sarah.
“You must be the sister.”
“I... Yes.”
His jaw working, he shifted to Dev. “Who the hell are you?”
“The sister’s fiancé.”
“What!” Gina’s shriek ricocheted off the walls. “Since when?”
“It’s a long story,” Sarah said weakly. “Why don’t we, uh, go someplace a little more private and I’ll explain.”
“Let’s go.” Gina hooked an arm through Sarah’s, then whirled to glare at the two men. “Not you. Not either of you. This is between me and my sister.”
It wasn’t, but Dev yielded ground. Mason was forced to follow suit, although he had to vent his feelings first.
“You, Eugenia Amalia Therése St. Sebastian, are the most irresponsible, irritating, thickheaded female I’ve ever met.”
Her nostrils flaring, Gina tilted her chin in a way that would have made the duchess proud. “Then aren’t you fortunate, Ambassador, that I refused to marry you.”
* * *
Her regal hauteur carried her as far as the stairwell. Abandoning it on the first step, she yanked on Sarah’s arm to hurry her up to their room. Once inside, she let the door slam and thrust her sister toward the sofa wedged into the turret sitting room.
“Sit.” She pointed a stern finger. “Talk. Now.”
Sarah sat, but talking didn’t come easy. “It’s a little difficult to explain.”
“No, it’s not. Start at the beginning. When and where did you meet Dev?”
“In New York. At my office. When he came to show me the surveillance video of you lifting his Byzantine medallion.”
Gina’s jaw sagged. “What Byzantine...? Oh! Wait! Do you mean that little gold-and-blue thingy?”
“That little gold-and-blue thingy is worth more than a hundred thousand pounds.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I wish I was. What did you do with it, Gina?”
“I didn’t do anything with it.”
“Dev’s surveillance video shows the medallion sitting on its stand when you sashay up to the display shelves. When you sashay away, the medallion’s gone.”
“Good grief, Sarah, you don’t think I stole it, do you?”
“No, and that’s what I told him from day one.”
“He thinks I stole it?”
The fury that flashed in her eyes didn’t bode well for Devon Hunter.
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Sarah lied. “What matters is that the medallion’s missing. Think, sweetie, think. Did you lift it off its stand? Or knock it off by accident, so it fell behind the shelves, maybe?”
“I did lift it, but I just wanted to feel the surface. You know, rub a thumb over that deep blue enamel.” Her forehead creased in concentration. “Then I heard someone coming and... Oh, damn! I must have slipped it into my pocket. It’s probably still there.”
“Gina!” The two syllables came out on a screech. “How could you not remember slipping a twelfth-century Byzantine medallion in your pocket?”
“Hey, I didn’t know it was a twelfth-century anything. And I’d just taken the pregnancy test that morning, okay? I was a little rattled. I’m surprised I made it to work that evening, much less managed to smile and orchestrate Hunter’s damned dinner.”
She whirled and headed for the door. Sarah jumped up to follow.
“I’m going to rip him a new one,” Gina fumed. “How dare he accuse me of...” She yanked open the door and instantly switched pronouns. “How dare you accuse me of stealing?”
The two men in the hall returned distinctly different frowns. Jack Mason’s was quick and confused. Dev’s was slower and more puzzled.
“You didn’t take it?”
“No, Mr. High-and-Mighty Hunter, I didn’t.”
“Take what?” Mason wanted to know.
“Then where is it?”
“I’m guessing it’s in the pocket of the jacket I wore that evening.”
“So you did take it?”
“Take what?”
Sarah cut in. “Gina was just running a hand over the surface when she heard footsteps. She didn’t want to be caught fingering it, so she slipped it into her pocket.”
“Dammit!” the ambassador exploded. “What the hell are you three talking about it?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Gina returned icily. “Why are you in my room, anyway? I have nothing more to say to you.”
“Tough. I’ve still got plenty to say to you.”
Sarah had had enough. A night of gut-wrenching worry, little sleep, no breakfast and now all this shouting was giving her a world-class headache. Before she could tell everyone to please shut up, Dev hooked her elbow and edged her out the door. With his other hand, he pushed Mason inside.
“You take care of your woman. I’ll take care of mine.”
“Wait a minute!” Thoroughly frustrated, Gina stamped a foot. “I still don’t know how or when or why you two got engaged. You can’t just...”
Dev closed the door in her face.
“Ooh,” Sarah breathed. “She’ll make you pay for that.”
He braced both hands against the wall, caging her in. “Do I look worried?”
What he looked was unshaven, red-eyed and pissed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked a little breathlessly. “When I called the Hôtel Verneuil a while ago, they told me you had some kind of crisis in your business and had to fly home.”
“I had a crisis, all right, but it was here. We need to get something straight, Lady Sarah. From now on, it’s not my sister or your business. We’re in this together. Forever. Or at least until we deliver on that promise to give kid number four a cruise on the Seine.”
