The Accidental Mistress (23 page)

"We have to turn in the pellet gun to the
gendarmerie. You let me do the talking, okay?"

He nodded.

Again he didn't speak.

Zuri was growing a bit nervous. "Everything
okay?"

He nodded again.

She sucked in a deep breath. When they
parked. He was the perfect gentleman, getting out the pellet gun
wrapped in a blanket and joining her on the sidewalk. Zuri greeted
the caribinero and explained all that happened. He of course
separated her from Christophe. The next hour she answered questions
and signed a few documents that registered her statement. When she
returned to find Christophe, he wasn't waiting for her. Her heart
sank. An old pitiful wave of doubt seized her and she wondered if
everything she'd done was for naught. That familiar bubble of shame
swelled deeper in her chest and she hurried out of the station to
capture air into her lungs. Why did intimacy always drive him away?
She was stupid to think that sex of all things would make him do
her bidding. Angry, she marched out onto the sidewalk and found
Christophe leaning against the jeep talking on his cell phone. He
ended the call and smiled at her.

"Is it possible that we could have your
attorney speak with mine? They have some questions for him."

"I, well yes, but you said you wanted to see
our records first."

"You can show them to me. It's best to get
the bank to stop collection procedures and keep them from accepting
another bid. Right?"

"Christophe, thank you so much." She went to
him and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you."

"You're right. Montague could learn a lot
from you and your family and you can learn a lot from us. Make your
business stronger."

"I don't know what to say. I know you're
doing this out of kindness, not because of business," she
smiled.

He drew her closer. "Say you will be mine, I
want to spend the rest of my days here on the island with you in my
bed."

Zuri bit down on her bottom lip. The offer
sounded more like a bargain than a proposal for her heart. Was he
giving her what she wanted for the payoff? "Okay," she
accepted.

He smirked. "Umm, let's go."

***

Zuri pushed through the kitchen doors. She
ordered dinner for Christophe and her to be delivered in her suite.
Now she needed to find Jean-Paul. There were things that had to be
said. She found him skimming through a book of hand scribbled
recipes. He didn't see her at first, so she thought. She soon
realized she was wrong.

"
Comment vas-tu?
How are you?" he
mumbled, not bothering to look up.

"Va bien,
merci."

He closed the book and sat
back on his stool. His face was unreadable. Zuri hated that she
hurt him. She loved him dearly. She hated the way he looked at her
too. "I'm sorry about last night. I know you were only concerned
about me."

"Do you know what you're
doing, Zuri?"

"No," she admitted. "But
I'm doing what I have too."

"I want to kill him," Jean-Paul said. "I
want to throw him and that ape that follows him around out of here.
But what would that do?"

"JP."

"
J’en ai ras-le-bol!
I can't stay here
and watch this. I called Maurice. He will have my recipes and the
menu for the week is prepared
—
"

"No. Please, I need you to stay."

"No. No, Zuri. You made your choice. I don't
like it but I understand why you're doing this. Don't ask me to
help you. I can't."

Zuri walked over to him. He was so angry and
hurt. There was more he wanted to say, but his pride wouldn't allow
it. She knew that. Why hadn't she chosen him years ago. He was
everything a man should be, kind, gentle, loving. And she had never
seen him past a brother. "Can you hold me?"

He looked away at first.

"JP, I love
you
. Je t'aime
."
She tugged on his arm. He sighed and brought her into his arms. She
held on to the forgiveness in his embrace. She could tell him that
she and Christophe were more than what he thought. But even she
wasn't sure. And it wouldn't matter either way. The damage was
done. "Please stay. It's a week and..."

He pushed her off. "I'll make sure
everything is taken care of. I will be reachable by phone." He
turned and walked off deeper into his kitchen. Zuri sighed. What
choice did she have but to leave? As she left, she considered going
in search of Joi, but she didn't think she could go through the
inquisition again. Instead she went to her suite. Alone, she fell
over on the bed exhausted. What she needed more than anything was
sleep.

***

"Enjoy yourself?" Elliot walked inside.

Christophe settled back into the wicker
chair. His scotch was hitting the spot. He was exhausted and in no
mood for his cousin's pouting. "What do you want, Elliot?"

"To tell you that you're a hypocrite."

Christophe sipped his scotch. "And exactly
how am I a hypocrite today?"

"You go on about me using the company to wax
my dick and look at you. I know who Zuri Baptiste is for you."

Christophe frowned.

Elliot spat a mean laugh. "That's right,
some piece of ass you got in Chicago."

Setting his glass down Christophe sat
forward. "Careful, Elliot. You don't want me to remind you of your
manners."

"I asked you for one thing.
One thing. And you wouldn't do it for me. Not because it's best for
Montague and all that bullshit you yap about. No. You want to fuck
some native whore
—
"

Christophe rose.

Elliot stepped back. "I'm done playing
second fiddle to you."

"Let me help you out, Elliot. You're done
playing altogether." He grabbed him by the arm and shoved him
toward the door. "I want you on a flight out of here. Tonight. And
if you say one word to Zuri or her sister on your way out, I'll
have you cleaning toilets in one of our mountain ranches in
Georgia. Now get the fuck out!"

Elliot stumbled outside of the door. He
glared in disgust. "Fucking hypocrite!" he said and walked off.
Christophe shook his head and slammed the door. He was selfish and
a bastard. He was even a hypocrite, but he was done babysitting his
cousin. Zuri had shown him something today. He could be much more
if he wanted to. And he did want to. Desperately.

***

Zuri rolled over. She looked to the window
and saw the sun had disappeared into night. Sitting up, she was
surprised it was close to eight. "Shit!" she jumped up and quickly
shed her clothes. She told Christophe she would be in his room at
eight thirty. Zuri had no intention of sleeping so long. Undressing
and rushing into the shower as soon as the water hit her face and
shoulders she groaned. She'd sunburned leaving her skin raw and
sensitive. "Damn it."

Zuri bathed as best she could. She dried,
herself and rubbed two different lotions over her body. In the past
four hours she'd slept and hadn't heard a word from her sister. She
wondered if she should call Joi and check on her. Pressed for time,
she abandoned the idea. She would seal this deal and then deliver
the good news to her family. Unable to tame her hair she smoothed
the edges back behind a rhinestone headband and let the rest remain
wild like a huntress. Her skin was three shades darker. She only
applied light eye makeup and lip-gloss. All the while, she smiled
as the day's events flashed in her mind. What did Christophe think
of them now? Once the deal was signed and in effect she wouldn't be
opposed to seeing him again.

"Stop it, Zuri." She shook her head. "The
man doesn't want a girlfriend. He wants sex. Remember that."

Sure she'd try to remember, but part of her
struggled to disbelieve in what the day they spent meant

Chapter
Thirteen

Christophe opened the door to allow the
staff to roll in their meal. He'd been on the phone most of the
afternoon. He had his best attorney's on the case. They did inform
him of the fact that they'd been approached in the past on the Blue
Oasis. He found that odd. The paperwork had Elliot's name on it,
and that too was odd. He told them to email everything Montague had
on its Oasis file. He'd read it tomorrow. Tonight was meant for
more. Tonight was about her.

"
Merci
." He gave the young woman and
man a generous tip. They set everything up nicely, uncorking the
wine and lighting the candles. He checked his watch. She was ten
minutes late. He couldn't believe that he was actually nervous.
Pacing back and forth he rubbed his hands together. He stopped and
looked at himself. He went back through the suite to the bathroom
and flicked on the light. He'd chosen a black shirt and slacks. His
face and neck were raw but not as sunburned as he thought. He
managed a clean shave. He sniffed his armpits. He showered, but
maybe a bit more of aftershave. No, maybe. He put a dash in his
palms and slapped his face.

Christophe had to chuckle to himself. He
hadn't been this excited about anyone in years. He felt alive.
Dropping his hands on the sink he leaned forward and sucked down a
few breaths. "Calm down. It's just dinner and a little something
afterwards. Nothing heavy."

There came a knock.

Christophe blew out a deep breath then went
back through the suite, turning off the lights as he did, except
the tall lamp near the outdoor terrace that faced the beach. He
looked over to the swaying candle flames and smiled at what the
moonlight and calm breeze added to the setting. Everything was
perfect.

She knocked again.

"Shit," he mumbled realizing he had her
waiting. He hurried and opened the door right before she turned
away. Zuri looked back. Her smile made her face radiant. She looked
breathtaking. For the evening she'd chosen to wear a yellow
strapless dress that lifted her bosom and slimmed her waist. The
skirt, which flared off her hips like an upside down teacup was
short and stopped mid-thigh. Her feet were delicately wrapped in
strappy rhinestone sandals like the headband that pushed back her
crinkly hair from her face. Large sparkling hoops hung from her
ears.

"Hi."

"
Bonsoir
," she smiled.

"You look beautiful," he
said, letting his eyes sweep her once more.

"Can I um, come
in?"

"Oh, yes,
right."

She walked in smelling like
roses. Christophe closed the door. His eyes latched to her swaying
hips. Zuri cast him a seductive look over her shoulder then walked
a straight line to the small table set for two. "Ah, I see they
brought the food. I hope you don't mind but I ordered for us," she
said.

"I figured you'd know
what's best on the menu. So far you've fed me well." He pulled out
the chair for her to sit. Zuri smiled up at him and his anxiety
melted. It was so easy to get lost in her smile. "Wine?" he asked,
lifting the bottle to pour her a glass. "How about a
toast?"

"For?"

"For new beginnings," he
said after pouring and setting the bottle down. He lifted his wine
goblet to hers and clinked it against hers in agreement.

"To new beginnings," she
nodded, taking a sip.

He watched as the rim of
the glass was brought to her rose colored lips. Dark long lashes
shadowed her large round eyes while she held his gaze. She lowered
the glass. "Today had become quite an adventure. I have to say that
I've never enjoyed the Caribbean this way."

"I had fun too,
Christophe."

"Do you hike often?" he
asked, picking up his fork and knife. The lobster tail was filleted
down the middle stuffed with a rice spicy mix of lobster meat and
oyster that smelled divine.

"When we were kids, Joi and
I loved to hike, swim, fish with our father, but when we hit our
teens those adventures lessened. My mother said young girls
shouldn't be found in trees or playing in mud."

"He sounds like quite a
man."

"Oh he is," she said
between bites. "He's Haitian. He moved here when he was seven or
eight. He was adopted."

"Interesting. And your
mother?"

"Oh she's Martinician. They
married when she was seventeen, with the blessing of her family of
course."

"I'd like to meet them
someday."

Zuri looked away. He got
the impression that she wasn't open to it. Considering their
courtship he didn't quite blame her. She held her family in high
regard. The jury was still out on how she felt for him. "What about
you, your parents?" she asked.

Christophe wasn't sure how
to describe his mother and father's courtship. It was over and done
before he reached puberty. "My father's name is Andre Davenport.
He's American. He met my mother and married her a few months before
I was born." he shrugged.

"Wait. Davenport? Your last
name is Montague?"

"My mother's family is
Montague, even after my birth it was expected that I'd take the
Montague name. Elliot is the same. His mother and my mother were
sisters."

"Were?"

"Elliot's mother died when
he was ten. He was pretty much raised as my brother."

"And his
father?"

"His father's Scottish. He
hasn't had contact with him much after his mother died."

"That's awful."

"So is the way of Montague
men. My father said my lineage was a curse not a privilege. My
father had a lot of bitterness. Mostly aimed at my
mother."