Love Is Lovelier (7 page)

It was her turn to smile. “Men like that, don’t they? That sense of possession. I’m hardly a virgin, William, even if I have only been with one man. I’ve borne four children.”

“Pity us. We’re the weaker sex. I admit it.”

At last she laughed, and the tension was dispelled.

“I’m not a virgin, either,” he said. “But I will confess to a little more…experience.”

“A lot is more like it, I’d bet.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m older than you. I didn’t marry early.”

“But you’ve been widowed, eight years, is it?”

“Eight, yes.”

“You’ve dated. A lot.”

“Probably not as much as you seem to believe. And not many of those extended past dinner or a ball.”

She was quiet for a long time. Then she spoke. “Were you faithful to Isabel?”

He caught her gaze and wouldn’t release it. This, he understood, was critical. “Yes. Always.”

She nodded. “I’m glad.”

“I’ve taken a lot of risks in my business life, Anne, but I’m not a careless man. Even my gambles are calculated.”

“So what have you calculated about me?”

“It wouldn’t matter.” He chuckled. “You blow every blasted assumption out of the water.”

This smile was the most genuine yet. “Don’t expect me to be sorry.”

“Before we leave this topic, I want to ease your mind. One, I wasn’t going after condoms.” She tried to draw away, but he wouldn’t let her. “And two, we don’t need them. I’ve been very careful and I’ve been tested often.”

“I didn’t think you were—” She pulled at her fingers again.

“Oh, you absolutely did.” He drew her clenched fist open, gently but firmly. “You still don’t really trust me.” He placed a kiss to her palm. “I will change that if it takes the rest of my life.”

“William, it’s not that I don’t—” She shook her head. “And it’s not you, not really. I just have a lot on my mind. A great deal to worry over.”

“I know that. I want to help you, Anne. I’m aware that the hotel is in trouble, and you’re worried sick.” He pulled back and let her hand go, though he didn’t want to. “Won’t you come inside with me—hands off, swear on my mother’s head—and talk it over? If anyone would understand what you’re up against, it’s me. We’ve discussed your hotel’s situation before.” He grinned. “I’m not doing my goal of getting you into bed any favors to admit this, but I truly do enjoy listening to you and talking to you as much as trying to get you naked.”

Her soft laughter warmed him. “You’ve been wonderful to let me natter on in the past, but—”

“You never natter. What’s happened now?”

She studied him in silence. Finally, “The prospective buyers have threatened to withdraw their offer. They want an answer.”

“You don’t want to sell, anyway.”

“We may not have any choice.”

She looked so small and heartbroken, it was all he could do not to sweep her up in his arms, but that would only complicate things for her.

“Anne, you know I have money. I could help.”

Her eyes flashed. “I can’t take it.”

“Can’t…or won’t?”

“William, the hotel is Remy’s legacy to his girls. You and he—”

Were rivals. “That was a million years ago.”

“What did he tell you every time you tried to buy the hotel in the past?”

Her tone had cooled. If he weren’t careful, the night would be a total loss, and he instinctively knew he’d have a hell of a time getting her this close and open again.

“He said no, of course. But I’m not talking about buying it now.” Trying to, yes, but if he told her that, she’d be gone without waiting to hear why he’d put the pieces in place. He had to think how best to handle things, but regardless, he wasn’t letting her go until he figured it out. “Come on.” He put his car in gear and drove under the porte cochere, then parked and switched off the engine. Without waiting for her to agree, he emerged and headed for her door. “Rewind the tape, and we’ll do the last few sentences over. I wouldn’t offer you money if my life depended on it.” He found a grin and hoped it passed muster. “Convincing?”

She rose so slowly that he expected her to sprint off at any moment. She wouldn’t have to go far to escape him—her mother’s house was only a block away.

Not that he wouldn’t recapture her before she hit the end of the driveway.

The pirate metaphors were getting out of hand. That made him smile genuinely.

“What on earth could you possibly find funny?” Her eyes glistened in the light spilling from his windows. “I’m here with a man who hated my husband, who’s tried to snatch his dream from him more than once in the past, and now you’re trying to—”

“I didn’t hate Remy,” he interrupted.

“Don’t you lie to me, William Armstrong. You and he nipped at each other’s heels for years.”

“It wasn’t hate.” He clasped her shoulders. “It was envy.”

She frowned. “You won. You had your father’s empire all to yourself. I still don’t understand why you walked away from it. What did Remy have for you to envy?”

“First of all, I left because I was sick of being manipulated for my father’s ends. He had this need to control everything and everyone around him. He had no love in him.”

“You were the prince. New Orleans was yours for the taking.”

“Some of New Orleans,” he corrected, locking his gaze on hers. “Not the part I wanted.”

“No,” she whispered. “You don’t mean—you can’t—it was just a foolish notion of our mothers’, a pipe dream of two best friends, to have their children marry. You had no more intention of following through than I did.”

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I was too full of my own plans.” He drew her closer. “But that doesn’t mean that I had no regrets when you took one look at Remy and forgot I existed.”

“It’s all about claiming rights with you males, isn’t it? Marking your turf.”

“It was once,” he conceded. “And a healthy dose of showing Remy that I could win in my own way, rather than by default when he abandoned all my father’s designs for him.” He tilted up her chin. “But not now, Anne. Don’t even think it. This thing between us has nothing to do with competition. It’s more. Much more.”

Before she could protest, he swung her around to face the door without letting go. “But at the moment, we’ll pretend we’re just friends who walk each morning. I’ll make coffee or open wine, your choice, and we’ll sit in the conservatory, since it’s your favorite place, and we’ll just…talk.”

“Does anyone ever tell you no? Or better, I should ask, do you ever listen when they do?”

He gave her what he hoped was a companionable one-armed hug and winked. “I take the fifth.”

Then he led her inside.

L
UC LAY IN BED
, unable to sleep. With the Mardi Gras deadline the Corbins had given him approaching in little more than a week, the pressure would only increase. This new threat would mean he’d hear from the Corbin brothers very soon. They were growing increasingly frustrated with him, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could drag his feet.

He needed leverage, and he might have just found it. They weren’t in Lafayette, best he could tell, but they were nearby. He’d figured that from bits and pieces he’d picked up in their conversations.

He could drop a dime to the authorities and tip them off to the Corbins’ proximity. Somehow he had to figure out what agency would be most interested, and there wasn’t much time left to act. Extradition took a long time, too long for the Marchands, but maybe he could cast enough suspicion the Corbins’ way to keep them too busy to make more mischief for his family.

His family. He liked the sound of it, even as he recognized that his aunt and cousins would hardly feel warm and mushy about him if they had the slightest idea what he’d done already.

What a hell of a mess he was in.

Oh, Papa, I wanted to avenge you
. As things stood now, Luc’s quest could, at a minimum, cost him his job, and probably result in jail time of his own.

No permanent damage had been done, however, except to the hotel’s reputation. If he could find a way out of this coil and remove the Corbins in the bargain, perhaps he could figure out a means to make the rest up to his aunt. Work for lower wages. Longer hours. He was an excellent concierge, that he knew. He would put his back into it, devote himself to making the Hotel Marchand stronger than ever.

Yeah, right. Like they would actually care about having the family black sheep’s son anywhere around. He was nothing to them, however much he wished things were different.

Maybe he should just split. If he weren’t around, the Corbins would have to give up on—

Who was he kidding? They’d replace him with someone much worse, someone who had no emotional ties to these women and their struggle.

He had to stay.

And he had to find some answers.

Quick.

CHAPTER SIX

A
NNE GAVE UP
on sleep at 3:00 a.m. and rose from the bed that had once been a refuge. At the moment, she wished she’d kept the one she and Remy had shared. Replacing it had been one of those futile efforts a widow makes, trying to signal—to herself as much as her ghosts—that she is ready to move on. That she has gotten over losing the man who inhabited it with her.

Blast it, Remy, why did you go off and leave me?
But her lips curved faintly as she could almost hear his response.
Now, chère,
he’d drawl with that cocky grin that had first charmed her and never quit,
you’re a sensible woman. Surely you see that I would never leave ma doucette, less’n that ole devil Satan catch up with me. For as sure as sin, it’s lovin’ you more than le bon Dieu that’s gonna get me in trouble, but you are worth the price, chère.

He’d said it a thousand times, that he was damned for loving her more than God, but it was a price he’d gladly pay.

She didn’t believe it, though. Remy Marchand was many things, but chief among them, a good man with a huge heart. The God in whom she placed her faith would have seen that and welcomed him to heaven with open arms.

They’d talked about being alone a few times, but mostly she’d dodged a subject she couldn’t bear to think about. It still hurt her that he had died with her thousands of miles away, no matter that she’d taken Melanie to Italy at Remy’s urging, to help their daughter recover from her divorce. Not being able to say goodbye was a cruelty that was still a ragged tear inside Anne’s heart. Her only consolation was that they’d told each other many times a day how much each was loved, and showed it in a thousand other ways.

Remy had forced her to listen, more than once, to something she hadn’t wanted to hear.
You are a woman with so much love to give a man. When I am gone, don’t stay alone long.
He’d grinned and continued,
of course you will miss me, doucette—how could you not? I am a magnificent specimen
.

She’d laughed and tried to change topics, but on one occasion, he’d insisted that she hear him all the way through. With serious eyes, he’d held her in place.
I’m not sayin’ I like the idea of you with another man—and heaven help the ones who might try while I’m still here—but it would hurt my heart, ma belle, for you to be alone when I know what it is to see you happy and safe. Mais yeah, you can take care of yourself, but if some good man comes along who knows how to love you, you take him up on it, écoutes?

She’d refused to agree, had distracted him with kisses flavored with the tears that erupted whenever the slightest thought of losing him appeared. But when her sorrow had quieted and she’d settled into his strong embrace, he’d whispered to her once more.
I mean it, Annie Belle. You don’t have to agree now, but you remember I said it.

She took up her favorite picture of him, snapped in Tuscany during one of the few vacations they’d taken.
Oh, Remy, why didn’t we spend more time playing?
The snapping blue-green eyes, bright with laughter, seemed to answer her.
We were building something, chère, and there was fun in doing it.

That was Remy. Worked hard, played hard. Sometimes difficult to distinguish the two, as he was never happier than in a steamy kitchen, unless it was surrounded by his girls.

Or making love to her.

There is a man
, she told his picture.
A good man who wants to love me, I think. Who tries to take care of me already. He would be wonderful at it, if only I’d let him. But Remy…it’s William. How would you feel about that? Would you still mean what you said?

The face in the photo belonged to a man who had confronted life, head-on, and had done his best to wrest everything possible from it. He’d never flinched from reality, had made her acknowledge it, as well, time and again.
Don’t look through the eyes of your fear, ma belle. See what is and deal with it.

Oh, Remy
. Tears gathered in her eyes.
I am afraid. Afraid to love him because it means letting you go.

She sat there quietly, clutching his picture to her breast, weeping tears she thought she’d exhausted long ago, for the man who’d been her first love, her long love, what she’d believed was her forever love.

But William’s face kept popping up, the blue eyes both kind and commanding. The visage that of an older man, something Remy would never be.

See what is and deal with it.

So she held on to Remy’s picture for courage and dared to think of another man. And found the end of her tears…the lightness that followed the storm of them.

William’s face was a strong one, less angular perhaps than the young man she’d known, but more compelling with the power inherent in someone who has found his place in the world. He was forceful, yes, but not humorless—far from it. Laugh lines fanned out from his eyes and around his mouth. His features were carved by time and battle; he’d fought in an arena she could only imagine and emerged victorious. That he was not ruthless with her, when he was obviously a man who obtained whatever he really wanted, was to his credit.

Then she was forced to smile. Okay, he was a little ruthless, but he was also gentle into the mix. Determined but thoughtful, and had shown more understanding of her dilemma than she had of his.

All right, you…Cajun
, she thought with the affectionate epithet she’d thrown at Remy often.
You win. I’ll give love another chance
.

She pressed a kiss to his picture, but, instead of replacing it by her bedside where she’d moved it for comfort after his death, she returned it to its original spot on the shelves in the living room.

Then, finally sleepy, she climbed into her bed.

And out again as an idea occurred to her. With a smile, she set the alarm.

She owed William an apology for the detour she’d forced in his plans tonight.

In the morning, she would make a start on finding their way back.

F
RESH FROM THE SHOWER
, William lifted a cup of his housekeeper’s excellent coffee—leaded this time, as opposed to last night’s decaf—and took a grateful sip. He hadn’t slept well. “You are a goddess, Estelle.”

She flicked a dish towel at him. “Oh, go on with you, Mr. William. You’re too easy. Sit down, and I’ll have your breakfast finished in a jiff. That Bo is ready to walk.”

“Always is.” He settled in with the morning’s paper, but his thoughts were troubled over more than last night’s rocky date with Anne, though that was concern enough.

He replayed yesterday’s meeting with Glen and didn’t like the results any better now. He’d always been an excellent judge of people; the success of his organization was testament to his ability to select the cream of the crop as employees.

Glen was one of those, handpicked to succeed William at some point. He was sharp and savvy and driven, much as William himself had been. Had his argument concerned any other hotel property, William would have agreed with Glen’s assessment completely.

But this was Anne’s hotel, and every moment spent in her presence only reinforced what a blow the loss of it would be to her.

Glen’s value to Regency Corp., however, lay in his ability to divorce himself completely from emotion and consider only the effect on the company’s bottom line. He’d been right to jump on Judith’s concept of melding the two properties together. William’s daughter was proving herself to be every bit as bright and promising as he ever could have hoped.

But without bringing Anne—and his hopes for their future—into the picture, William could not expect to garner Glen’s or Judith’s understanding of why he would not allow that cut-rate offer to be made.

His refusal would make a heretofore smooth business relationship rough, and foreclosing the possibility of the takeover stood to rob his daughter of a much-needed success.

All of this, he thought, with an urge to bang his head on the table, for a woman who resisted him at every turn. Who was attracted to him but refused to acknowledge it, much less act on it. And if she actually felt for him a fraction of what he did for her, she was fighting every opportunity to let that bond grow.

If he had a lick of sense, he’d go back to the socialites lying in wait to snatch up the catch he represented.

Too bad he found Anne and her obstacles catnip to a retired raider. He felt twenty years old again and itching to take on all comers.

Damned if he didn’t love the juice the challenge of her gave him.

Estelle put his plate in front of him. “Now what’s got that cat with canary look on your face?”

He snapped the unread paper closed. “It’s a great day, don’t you think, Estelle?”

Her gaze narrowed. “I knew I smelled a woman’s perfume this morning. You get lucky last night, boss?”

Estelle championed the notion that he needed a permanent woman in his life, and she wasn’t afraid to stick her nose right in his business.

“Not really.”

“Then why you smilin’?”

He finished chewing a bite of her wickedly good French toast. “Maybe it’s just your cooking, ever think of that?”

She snorted as she wiped her hands on her apron. “You been eatin’ my cookin’ for seven and a half years now, but I haven’t seen that particular smile ever before. It’s got
woman
written all over it.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Though he’d learned long ago that secrets from Estelle were few and far between.

She pointed a finger at him. “And don’t you think I won’t. Now you gonna invite Miss Anne in, or shall I?”

His head jerked up. “Anne? She’s here?” He rose.

“Right out on the porch.”

He dropped his napkin and rounded the table. “How long has she been there? Why didn’t you let her in?”

“’Cause she just this minute walked up the steps.”

He was nearly to the dining room door when she called after him. “Miss Anne better be some part of that smile you had, is all I got to say. I like that woman. She’s different from those bottle blondes always pantin’ after you.”

But William wasted no time arguing; instead, he called for Bo.

“Wait—you didn’t finish. And Miss Anne might need to eat, too.”

She was right on both counts, but he didn’t want their first encounter after last night to be in the presence of others.

Bo didn’t count; he wouldn’t carry tales. William had no idea why Anne would be here this morning.

“Estelle, I apologize for wasting that good food.” He faced her as Bo wriggled beside him. “But I need to see Anne alone first.”

She waved him off. “I can make more. You go on and bring her back with you, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All right, then. Have a good walk. And you mind your manners, Bo. Miss Anne’s a lady, through and through.”

William returned her wave and opened his front door.

Anne turned at the sound, one hand against the white Doric column as if she needed bracing. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes.

“Are you all right?” He closed the distance between them.

She didn’t quite smile as she met his gaze earnestly. “You always think of me first, don’t you?” Before he could answer, she went on. “I didn’t sleep well. I owe you an apology.”

This wasn’t how he’d anticipated their next encounter proceeding. “For what?”

“Where shall I start? For crying on your shoulder but refusing to let you help with my business concerns?”

“Changed your mind?”

“No.” She did smile then. “But I appreciate the gesture more than you can imagine. It’s wonderful just to be able to voice my worries to someone who understands their context, someone who can help me put them in perspective. I’ve never had that.”

“Never?”

She took a deep breath, let it out. “Remy and I were partners in everything, but not equal ones. He had too much on his plate with running the restaurant and being its chef. He had to be both manager and culinary genius. He was superb at both, but—” She shrugged.

“That left you running the hotel. A daunting task on its own.”

Her smile was grateful. “We made the big decisions together, but the day-to-day…”

“Can be a real grind.”

She seemed surprised.

“You weren’t there to see it, but I did that on my first two hotels. It was a few years before I could afford to step back from the day-to-day and assume a strictly oversight position.”

“No wonder you understand so much.” She glanced away. “But there’s another apology I must make, and it’s a harder one. About…last night…”

“You don’t owe me anything. I pushed, and you weren’t ready.”

She straightened. Cocked her head. “I led you on, so maybe we’re even.”

A dull ache settled in.
Led you on
. She might never be ready for more than friendship, and he had to accept that.

“We’re still friends, aren’t we?” he asked. “We’ll leave it at that. Bo’s ready for his walk, as you can see.” Bo had, by now, wound his leash around both of them. “So, after you, madame.” He began to untangle them.

“Wait.” She stopped him with one slim hand on his arm. “You’re giving up? Just like that?”

What the hell do you want from me, woman?
he wanted to roar. “Anne, you’ve made yourself clear. You enjoy my company, but that’s all you’ll commit to. That’s fine. I’m a realist. I value—”

Whatever he’d thought to say was swallowed up when she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Hard.

William didn’t waste time asking questions. He dropped Bo’s leash and grabbed her. Kissed her back.

Whoa
. The kiss went on and on, and every last thought but one drained from his head.

He’d go to his grave wanting her. And damned if he was giving up.

He was on the verge of sweeping her into his arms and charging up the stairs to his bedroom when Bo barked.

“Anne Robichaux, what on earth are you doing?”

Her battle-ax mother Celeste stood on the sidewalk, hands on her hips.

William swore in three languages. But he didn’t let her go. “She’s kissing me, Celeste.” Anne’s head was buried against his chest, and he felt her shaking.