Love Is Lovelier (13 page)

“And so I decided to paint myself red and march through the Quarter naked.”

William snapped to attention. “What? What are you saying?”

“Gotcha,” she said. “Where did you go?”

“Sorry.” He seized on teasing. “Plotting how to move you upstairs. That bed is bigger.”

But he’d alerted her, damn it.

“What time is it?” She glanced around. “Oh, dear. It must be very late. I have to go.”

He grasped her shoulder. “Stay. Sleep with me, Anne. I’d like that.”

“Oh, William.” She sighed. “I would, too, I think.”

“Then it’s simple.”

She kept her eyes steady on him, and her answer was evident. “There’s nothing simple about you. Or…this. Whatever it is.”

He cautioned himself not to push. Sometimes you lost what you wanted most by gripping it too tightly.

“I’ll take you home,” he said. “But don’t expect me to like it.” He summoned a smile.

Her answering one was filled with relief. “If it helps
you, I don’t care for it much, either.” She rose and gathered her clothes. “I’ll just go and change.”

He watched her progress through the conservatory. Took heart from how her fingers trailed over a blossom here, how she paused to sniff there.

I’ll have you back here
, he promised himself as much as her.
Permanently, if I have any say about it.

And because he was worried that he wouldn’t, he spoke before she reached the door. “Anne.”

She turned, and the yearning in her face heartened him.

“Love is what this is. Remember it.”

She gnawed at her lip for a second. He could almost see the argument rising.

But instead, she blew him a kiss.

He was still grinning long after she was out of his sight.

“S
HE’S BACK
at the hotel,” the man reported. “She and Armstrong look pretty cozy— Whoa!”

“What?” Mike Blount snapped into his phone. “What’s going on?”

“She’s a grandma, for chrissake. They’re wrapped around each other like—” The man chuckled over the line. “Gotta give Armstrong credit. Old dude’s got some moves.”

“Shut up,” Blount ordered. “You’re not there for a peep show. Is he staying the night?”

“Sorry.” A pause. “Doubt it. He’s got his car parked on the street. You don’t leave a Jag out like that.”

“Follow him.”

“Him? Not her?”

“Just do as you’re told.”

“Yes, sir. If he goes home, then what?”

“Stay with him.”

“What about her?”

“I’m switching coverage. I want everyone fresh. No missed details. Everything will speed up soon.”

Mike Blount clicked off. Pondered the idiots who posed his biggest trial. This punk was an irritant, but he had a sharp eye.

The Corbins were beginning to be more than a pain in the ass, but he didn’t have time to replace them. The deal was getting complicated. Armstrong was one wily bastard. They’d never had dealings, but word got around. Unfortunately, he was also strictly aboveboard. No place to find leverage, as far as Blount’s sources could tell.

Could be he was playing the Marchand woman. A smart idea, at that. His background made him suitable for a woman with her pedigree.

But whatever his motivation, his interference couldn’t be allowed. Timing was too critical, and this second offer threw a wrench into the works.

Damn good thing he’d been keeping surveillance on everyone surrounding the Marchands, including Armstrong. His tail had seen Armstrong meet with an attorney, Jud Lawson, not his usual firm. Blount had pulled that thread and found Armstrong engaged in some covert activities of his own.

Too bad for Armstrong that his mole inside the hotel had a weakness for the ponies.

Mike Blount smiled, cold as a shark.

William Armstrong was smart and powerful.

But so was he.

L
UC’S PHONE RANG
in the wee hours. He looked at the display and groaned. Clicked it on. “Yeah. What?”

“William Armstrong has made an offer on the hotel.”

“Are you kidding?” His sluggish brain snapped to alert. Armstrong had picked up Anne for a date earlier. Brought lilacs with him. What was he—

“A better one, from what I hear.”

Then you’re screwed, aren’t you?
Luc couldn’t help but smile. “But you’re not certain, right?”

“That’s where you come in. You have to find out the terms.”

“That’s not in my area. It would make no sense for me to know about it, much less expect anyone to tell me the details.”

“I don’t give a damn what makes sense!” Richard Corbin screamed. “They’re screwing up our deal, and there’s no time. We can’t lose our position. Find out what we’re up against, or—”

Luc was heartily sick of the Corbin brothers. “Or what?”

“You don’t want to know, trust me. Pray you never find out what happens if you let this go down the tubes. I don’t care what you have to do. Break into Charlotte Marchand’s office or knock her old lady upside the head and beat it out of her—I don’t care, do you hear me? Get me that answer—now.”

“It’s risky. I can’t just go in there and—”

“I told Dan you were gutless. You’re down to your last chance, you hear me? If you can’t get this information fast, then we don’t need you. And what we don’t need, we ditch. Got it?”

The connection was severed with a decisive click.

Oh, he got it all right. The day the Corbins were out of his life couldn’t come too soon. Break into Charlotte’s office? The guy was a head case.

But a more violent one than Luc had ever imagined. He had to buy time.

And he needed answers. A new offer threw a big unknown into an ever more complicated chess game.

He rose from his bed and paced as he tried to reformulate the board.

I
T WAS WRONG
to be having so much fun in the midst of such worry, Anne thought as she rose too late for her swim.

But, oh my, this was delicious. William wasn’t the only one who felt like a kid again, all breathless and eager the way she remembered being on summer mornings, when a whole day spread before her, hours and hours bright with possibilities. Adventures to share with her friends or—

Her mood dipped. With Pierre. Her beloved younger brother, so long gone.

So much missed. She crossed to the secretary in the corner and withdrew a favorite photo of the two of them, taken when he was about eight and she, twelve. “Oh,
mon frère,
” she said. “Where are you?”

There was a knock on her door. She frowned. Who, at this hour?

A peep into the hallway had her shaking her head. Still, she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking you to breakfast,” William said. “I missed you.” From behind his back, he withdrew more flowers. Daisies this time, bright as the morning.

She clutched them to her, ridiculously pleased. “You just saw me.”

Again, the eyebrows. “I did. I’m ready to see more.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’?”

He gathered her close. Nipped at her bottom lip. “It’s been hours. Days.”

“You are insane.” But she sank into the kiss. “Mmm…” She licked the taste of it from her lips.

His eyes darkened. He began to back her toward her bedroom.

“Stop.” She plastered a hand to his chest. “Don’t you have business to conduct?”

He waltzed her in a circle, ever closer to the bed. “So perceptive of you to notice. Though, strictly speaking, not the same sort of business I care to share with my associates.”

He had her off her feet then, swinging her in dizzying arcs.

She clutched him tightly. And let herself revel, just for a minute, in an adventure she would never have dreamed of as a girl.

Next thing she knew, she was flat on her back on her mattress, and her robe was parted. William delivered a series of devastating kisses to the flesh revealed, an expanse that seemed to increase with each passing second.

It was daylight, if only weak morning sun. She should be paralyzed by worry.

Instead, she was shivering with delight. Moaning in a most unladylike manner. “William, I—”

Whatever she might have said, had she been able to
think straight, dissolved under the assault of his mouth. His hands. Oh, those hands, they made her absolutely…hot.

She had to smile. Who would have imagined? Her daughters would be scandalized. They were right here in the hotel—or would be—very soon.

She tried to summon the will to stop William. Send him away.

Then he shot a jolt right through her veins that scrambled the last vestige of her logic.

Think…later.

William…now.

She gave herself up to the ministrations of a man who did indeed understand everything about…finesse.

“Y
OUR SHIRT IS WRINKLED
,” Anne said, some time later, following him into the living room as he knotted his tie.

“I have an extra at my office.” But he thought he might keep this one for a trophy. Her scent clung to it.

He was hopeless. What’s worse, he didn’t much care. If there were any way to cancel his next meeting, he’d scoop her up and spirit her away. He had a cabin in Montana, where it was still winter. Long, cold nights in front of a fire.

“Get that look off your face,” she said.

“What look?”

Her gaze narrowed. “That…panther sizing up prey expression.”

“Guilty as charged.” He grinned. “But you’d like it, I promise you that.”

Her cheeks went pink. Charmed the hell out of him. “I’m sure I would, more’s the pity. But you have an empire to run, and I have a hotel in trouble. I’ve been unconscionably negligent.”

“You had dinner. You have to eat.”

“We also had breakfast.” She all but wrung her hands. “And…you know. Sex.”

His amusement fled. “It was more than sex. Don’t deny it.”

“No.” Her voice was very quiet. “I won’t. And maybe someday, when this is all over—if it ever is—I’ll figure out what to do about it. About you.”

He reached for her.

“Keep your hands to yourself. They should be classified as lethal weapons.” She was striving to tease, but he heard the strain.

“I refuse,” he said, as he reeled her in, keeping his gaze locked on hers. “But I will let you get to work, after this one thing.”

“What thing?” Suspicion colored her tone.

“Just this.” He throttled back on the gnawing need he had for her and set himself to soothe, wrapping her in his arms and simply holding her. “Not so bad, is it?”

She sighed and settled. “Not bad at all.”

“I love you,” he murmured. “I wish that didn’t trouble you.”

Her arms tightened. “Maybe it won’t much longer.”

He would have to be content with that progress, limited as it felt. “I can only live in hope,” he said dryly.

Her faint chuckle—and the snuggle that accompanied it—was his reward.

After a few precious moments, he released her, if grudgingly. Slipped on his suit jacket, reached for his keys on the entry table. Saw the photo. “What’s this?” He answered his own question. “You and…your brother?” He turned to her. “Still can’t find him?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry to say that I haven’t had a chance to look for a new investigator after the previous one failed to turn up anything useful.”

This he could do for her. “Let me. I have a firm that’s top-notch.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Please, Anne.” He fought to keep the annoyance from his voice and only partially succeeded. “I want to help. For God’s sake, at least let me do this.”

He saw the struggle within her. Waited for the refusal.

But she surprised him. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

He swooped in, planted a quick kiss. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

She let out a breath. “Yes.” She gifted him with a smile. “But maybe with practice, I’ll get better at it.”

“You’re going to catch up, aren’t you?” he said quietly, one hand on the knob.

She met his gaze full-on. “Probably, yes.”

Cheered, he stole one more kiss. “That’s my girl. Pick you up at seven.”

And was out the door before she could argue.

He heard her laughter ring behind him as he strode down the hall.

L
UC WAS IN
Charlotte’s office when they heard Anne outside with Charlotte’s assistant Julie.

“She sounds happy,” he remarked.

“She does.” Charlotte smiled.

“The date must have gone well last night,” he said.

“What date?” Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me. William Armstrong.”

Luc thought about Anne’s voice on the phone last night. How she’d told him William could have full access from now on.

Then he remembered Corbin’s call.

“Yes.” His heart sank. When she found out…

Charlotte’s mouth pursed, but whatever she’d meant to say was lost to Anne’s entrance.

“
Doucette,
I—oh, Luc, I’m sorry. Julie didn’t say there was a meeting.” Her smile was blinding. “But then, I didn’t give her much chance.”

“We’re done here,” Charlotte responded.

Luc wasn’t, but he’d managed all the surreptitious examination of the papers on her desk he could while carrying on a coherent conversation about a tour group set to arrive tomorrow.

Anne’s expression turned serious. “Is anything wrong? Anything else…happen?”

At the loss of her joy, Luc experienced his strongest pang of regret to date. He’d done this to her. To them. His grandmother deserved any pain that could be meted out, but his aunt and his cousins had done nothing. The more time he spent around them, the more certain he
was that he and his mother would have been welcomed by this part of the Robichaux clan.

And now, the man who’d made her so happy was double-dealing her. He had to warn her, but how did he explain that he knew? If he blew his cover, he was useless to them.

“No, nothing,” he hastened to add. “Just last-minute details on the Sun West group.”

When her face cleared, it was a gift he hadn’t earned. “We’ll do fine.” She patted his arm. “Have we told you lately, Luc, how lucky we are to have you? Mrs. Davis caught me yesterday after her massage. The woman couldn’t say enough about you.”

Lower than a snake’s belly, he felt. “She found me again last night.”

“Oh, yes. William told me about it. Said our future bookings should reflect her satisfaction.”

“Did you have a good time, I hope?”

Color rushed to not only Anne’s cheeks but her entire face, her throat. “Um, yes. It was…lovely. Good food.”

He and Charlotte exchanged glances. Charlotte’s brows snapped together. The most protective of Anne’s daughters, she was clearly unhappy.

The moment was awkward. He decided on rescue. “So what did you have to eat?”

A relieved Anne launched into a description of the restaurant, its decor and the dishes they’d sampled. She seemed ready to move to a comparison with their own menu.

“Luc has to go,
Mère,
” Charlotte interrupted. Her glance at him was pure dismissal.

He had the urge to remain to protect Anne from her daughter’s disapproval. But Charlotte was the boss. “I do, I’m sorry to say. Perhaps you could drop by later to chat more?”

“Oh. Well, I—” Anne Marchand, always composed, was clearly discombobulated. It endeared her to him more than ever.

“You’re busy, too, of course.” He let her off the hook. “I’m glad you had a good time. It’s much-deserved.”

“Why, thank you.”

“That will be all, Luc.” Charlotte’s tone was nearly as crisp as the glare she shot at him.

“Good day, ladies.” If he hadn’t heard about Armstrong’s offer, he’d be grinning.
You go, Aunt Anne
.

Instead, his mind was in an uproar, trying to sort out a viable solution. He understood so little about the dynamics of a close family like this. There’d only been his mother and himself for most of his life. She’d loved him, but she’d been so beaten down by the struggles and consumed by her bitterness over Pierre’s betrayal and his family’s disdain that he’d never experienced anything like what the Marchands shared, that powerful family tie that no amount of disagreement could unravel. That sense of always having someone at your back. A rock-solid understanding of who you were and where you belonged.

And he’d bought into the assumption of Anne’s and his grandmother’s guilt without questioning. He’d been bent
on avenging wrongs against his father that now appeared to be only due to his grandmother’s unforgiving nature.

He could have belonged to this family under different circumstances.

Now he never would.

He was so intent on his thoughts that he knocked into a passing maintenance man. “Excuse me.”

The man, built like a fireplug, moved past. “No problem.”

Luc looked back. Frowned. A new employee he hadn’t met—

I’m sending in a team. They have a lot of skills besides arson
. Just then, the man rounded a corner, and Luc realized what he should have seen before. The man was wearing street shoes—shiny shoes, not work boots—with a hotel uniform.

He stood, frozen. If he stopped the man, the Corbins would hear, all too soon, and he’d be out of the loop, powerless to protect Anne or her daughters.

But if he didn’t, there’d be a fire, sometime soon. Without notice.

Or worse.

He could follow the guy discreetly, but he was no spy.

A mirthless laugh erupted. Of course he was. Just not a very good one. An idiot who’d gotten himself tangled up with some very bad people. And if the man he’d just seen caught him following, the result would be the same. The Corbins would cut him out of the picture.

Pray you never find out what happens if you let this go down the tubes
. Richard’s threat.

He had to figure a way out. In the meantime, he needed to warn the Marchands about Armstrong’s offer. But how?

Then a solution hit him. An anonymous note to Charlotte would tip her off. Each employee had a mailbox, and he had easy access to accomplish that. Maybe Anne knew who was behind the offer, but he had no way to ask that question, as it was clearly not his business. Maybe she was fine with it.

But if not, Charlotte was relentless. She would track down the details and guard her mother, to boot.

And he would stall for time with the Corbins. In nine days, it would be Mardi Gras, and this would all be over.

Nine days for him to work out some way to make the Corbins change their minds.

And leave the Hotel Marchand alone.