CHAPTER 9

Jake took both drinks from the bartender and turned. Alyssa was standing at his elbow. A few seconds ago she’d been with Clay. She had a phony smile on her face, and he decided something Clay had said upset her. He handed her the glass of merlot. “Did you ask Clay why he hid his part in buying your company?”

“Yes. He just said it was a good buy, and he knew I wouldn’t sell if I knew he was part of TriTech.”

“You believe him?”

“I don’t know what to think. He seemed sincere.”

“He has a talent for that.”

Jake figured Alyssa would be the first to know why Clay had acquired Rossi Designs. He wasn’t a betting man—never having had a spare cent to wager until recently—but he’d bet everything he had that the reason was personal.

“Who’s the brunette in the—ah—black dress?” Jake had almost slipped and said “killer” dress. The woman was a looker, but Alyssa had them all beat.

“Her name is Maree Winston. She’s involved with Clay.”

“Involved? As in sexually?”

“Is there any other way?”

He moved closer, stealing a peak at her cleavage, unable to resist teasing her. “We’re involved, right?”

“That’s not what I meant.” She shook her head at him, sending a ripple of blond hair across her bare shoulders. “And stop looking at my breasts.”

“If women don’t want men looking, then why do they make dresses like that?”

“You’re never serious.”

“Wrong. I’m dead serious. Why buy a dress like that—then tell men not to look? Hey, we’re only guys.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. He was pretty sure she wasn’t praying.

“Okay, so what makes you think they’re involved?”

“Women know these things.” She sipped her wine, her gaze casually drifting to where Clay stood talking to Maree and the man with her. “Don’t you see it in her eyes?”

“No, I don’t, but thank you for sharing.”

Her gaze reluctantly swung back to him. “Even if Clay didn’t tell me the truth, coming here was a good idea. Thanks for suggesting it.”

Compliments always made him uncomfortable. “Running into Ravelle was a stroke of luck. I can’t take credit for that.”

“The worst is over, and I feel better. Now I won’t go around dreading seeing the Duvalls.”

She smiled at him again, a tentative smile reflecting how nervous she’d been. He wouldn’t have guessed. She’d seemed cool and had worn a red dress that was bound to call attention to her. He gave her credit for brazening it out. She had more depth to her than he’d first thought.

“Here come Gordon and Hattie LeCroix,” Jake said.

Alyssa looked up and saw the couple walking out of the house. She’d lived with them ten long, miserable years. She hadn’t heard from them since Gordon had called to explain to her that Phoebe would be uncomfortable with Alyssa at her wedding. It was the reason she wasn’t being invited.

If she hadn’t been so hurt, Alyssa would have laughed. Did any of them seriously believe she would have attended? Why torture herself by watching the man she loved marry another woman?

Hattie hadn’t changed much, Alyssa noticed. She still had auburn hair and wore it in a chignon at the nape of her neck. A tall woman who carried herself the way she had when she wore the Mardi Gras queen’s crown, Hattie wrote the book on elitist attitudes.

Gordon, with his blond hair now feathered with silver, and periwinkle blue eyes looked more like Phoebe and Wyatt than Hattie did. A weak man, Gordon allowed Hattie to bully him. Alyssa knew Hattie had forced Gordon into telling her that she wasn’t being invited to Phoebe’s wedding. When Alyssa had been living with them, Gordon had tried to be friendly to her, but when Hattie caught him, Gordon would give up.

“I think she’s spotted you,” Jake murmured.

Hattie stared at Alyssa with hooded, hawk-like eyes that flashed with outrage. She jerked on her husband’s arm and said something to him. Alyssa refused to allow them to intimidate her.

Gordon looked at her as if he’d seen the proverbial ghost. He blinked, then smiled, and Alyssa couldn’t help returning his smile. He actually appeared to be happy to see her.

“One out of two ain’t bad,” Jake said.

“Gordon’s all right,” she said. “But Hattie’s …”

“A bitch. I had dinner with them a couple of times while we were negotiating to purchase Clay’s company. I think my father wanted to impress them. Why, I’ll never understand.”

“It’s a New Orleans society thing.”

Gordon walked toward them, Hattie at his side, her eyes cast downward. A few people turned to watch but most were enthralled with the governor.

“Hello, Alyssa,” Gordon said. “It’s been a long time. Are you here for a visit or—”

“Jake Williams, remember?” Jake extended his hand. “Mrs. LeCroix you look stunning in that dress.”

Hattie was forced to look up. “Thank you.”

“I’m back to stay,” Alyssa informed them.

“Good. Glad to hear it,” Gordon said.

Hattie’s lips parted in surprise, and Alyssa had to admit she was stunned as well. Some things had changed around here if Gordon dared to cross Hattie.

“Gordon,” Hattie barked his name. “Have you forgotten this slut is the reason we don’t have our grandson?” Hattie towed him away.

Jake said, “Now, that was fun.”

He had no idea how much “fun” it had been living under the same roof with Hattie. Could pain be transformed into a positive experience, preparing you for the other tragedies in store for you? Perhaps. Confronting all these hostile people hadn’t been nearly as difficult as she would have thought.

“Just when we thought we’d had all the fun we could have,” Jake remarked wryly and she saw Phoebe and her brother, Wyatt, approaching.

“How’d you get along with Wyatt?”

“Better than I did with Phoebe. Hattie insisted on sending him off to military school, not because he was troublesome, but because he was a normal boy who made noise and got into things. At least he’d talk to me when he was around.”

Phoebe and Wyatt walked closer. “Uh-oh. Looks like they’re on the war path. Hold your ground.”

Alyssa looked right at them, and he put his hand on the back of her waist for moral support, not just because he liked having an excuse to touch her.

He saw Wyatt whisper something to his sister. He’d met Wyatt a few times when they’d been negotiating for Duvall Imports. Wyatt LeCroix owned the accounting firm that handled the books for several local businesses including Duvall Imports. He’d seemed to be an okay guy, but then, Jake hadn’t really paid too much attention to him.

“Hello, Alyssa, it’s been a long time,” Wyatt greeted her.

Alyssa replied politely, and Jake couldn’t help stepping in, “You three look so much alike. It’s amazing. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall.”

“Her eyes aren’t blue.” Phoebe hissed out the words. “They’re—”

“You’re right,” Jake cut her off. “They’re an unusual shade that’s hard to describe, not ordinary blue.”

“I’m taller.” Wyatt’s eyes were on Alyssa, and at his side, Phoebe’s mouth was crimped into a tight line.

“All three of you are tall,” Jake pointed out, attempting to infuse a note of humor into what had the potential of becoming an ugly confrontation. “Wyatt, if we put makeup and a blond wig on you, then—hell—you’d look like Phoebe in drag.”

Wyatt chuckled, but Phoebe appeared to be sucking on a lemon. Alyssa laughed but he wouldn’t bet the farm she was laughing at his joke.

Phoebe stabbed the air in front of Alyssa with her finger. “I know what you’re trying to do, but you’re not getting away with it.”

“Just what am I trying to do?”

“You came home because you’re in love with Clay. You think you can get him back. You won’t—”

“Hold it.” Jake pulled Alyssa flush against his side. “She’s in love with me.”

That got them. Wyatt chuckled again, but Phoebe stepped back, confused.

“Jake’s right. I couldn’t care less about Clay. He’s all yours. Unless someone else has already …” Alyssa’s voice trailed off as she pointedly looked at Clay and Maree.

“Who’s that woman?” Phoebe asked her brother.

“I have no idea.”

“Come on, darling.” Alyssa gave Jake a manufactured smile. “Let’s dance.”

His arm still around her, they walked away from Phoebe and Wyatt. “Man, oh, man. I’ve never been in the middle of a cat fight before now.”

“You didn’t have to protect me. I can take care of myself.”

Jake stopped a few feet from the dance floor, where the band was getting ready to play a new song. “Hey! I’m on your side. Don’t get pissy.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that … you wouldn’t understand.”

He set their glasses on a passing waiter’s tray, then led her out onto the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. “Try me. What won’t I understand?”

Alyssa looked directly into his eyes. “Call it women’s intuition, but I think Phoebe knows what happened to her baby.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t seen her since before the baby was born. When she and Wyatt were walking up to me, I expected Phoebe to demand to know what happened to her child. That’s what I would have asked. That’s what most women would have done if they truly believed I had stolen their child. Instead, Phoebe warns me to stay away from her husband.”

“I see your point.”

“Do you? Be serious now. What if Patrick had been your son?”

Jake looked across the backyard to where his father was standing with the governor. Max Williams had married Jake’s mother and they’d had him. For reasons no one ever had explained fully to Jake, they’d divorced before Jake had any memory of his father. Max hadn’t bothered with his son until about nine years ago when he’d suffered a mild heart attack and decided he needed an heir.

“If he’d been my baby, I’d still be searching for him.”

She regarded him with a speculative gaze, and he knew there had been a little more emotion in his voice than he’d intended. He attempted to buffer it with a one-shouldered shrug, then changed his mind. Having a soft spot for children in danger didn’t necessarily reflect on his own life.

“I’m going to hire a private investigator. I—”

Jake cut her off. “Been there; done that What makes you think this time will be different?”

The song ended, and they stopped dancing, but he didn’t let her go.

“The dance is over.” She started to step out of his arms.

“Don’t move. I’m thinking. You’ll ruin my train of thought.” He held her a little closer. “I know just the man to help you out. Rueben Sanchez used to be with the FBI.”

She pulled out of his arms, and he had no choice but to let her go. He ventured another look at her chest.

“Quit that.”

“What?” He winked at her, pretending not to understand. “Oh, that. Did I tell you that you look great?”

She gave him the first genuinely enthusiastic smile he’d ever gotten from her. “Thanks.” Her smile widened. “For everything. Well, almost everything.”

“Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”

“Why did you tell them I’m in love with you?”

“You’re not?”

“Think again.”

“Give it some time. You’ll be crazy about me.”

“Why do I have anything to do with you?”

“You’re into sadomasochism big time.”

This time she laughed, really laughed. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

“Darling, has anything bad happened?” Maree asked Clay.

“What do you mean?”

Neville had wandered off to the bar to get drinks, leaving Clay alone with Maree.

“Remember? Dante told me he had warned you. ‘Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. If God won’t have you, the devil must.’ Something terrible—”

“Come on, Maree. You can’t believe such nonsense.” But he could see that she did, and he remembered only too well her fondness for psychics. He kept his eyes on her, but over Maree’s shoulder he’d been watching Alyssa dancing with Jake. Was something going on between them?

“I miss you, Clay.” She reached into the small handbag she clutched in one hand, then slipped a card into the pocket of his jacket. “I’ve leased a carriage house on Julia Street. Here’s my address and telephone number.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Clay saw Phoebe and her brother watching them. They both saw Maree put the card in his pocket. Great. Now he had even more explaining to do—not that it mattered.

“How did you meet Neville?” he asked.

“I ran into him at a political fund raiser. He’s nice but …”

Clay let her words hang there. She didn’t interest him and hadn’t for a long time. He had no intention of encouraging her. She was better off with Neville.

And he wanted Alyssa.

The last thing he’d expected was for Alyssa to show up tonight and take on her enemies. She was braver now than she’d been when he’d first fallen in love with her. She’d idolized him then. He sensed he might have to win her back, and he was prepared to do it.

“How well do you know that woman?” Maree asked.

Clay realized he’d been quiet for a second too long. Always intuitive, Maree had followed his gaze and read his mind.

“TriTech bought her company.” He didn’t elaborate, wishing Neville would hurry up with those drinks.

“She’s beautiful.”

Clay knew Maree was fishing for a compliment, but he wasn’t in the mood.

“She must be related to your wife.”

“Alyssa Rossi is Phoebe’s second cousin.”

Neville arrived with their drinks, and Clay grabbed his, muttered some excuse, then walked away. He greeted several friends as he made his way through the crowd. Alyssa was still with Jake, and Clay experienced an unwelcome surge of what had to be jealousy when she laughed at something Jake had said.

“Clay, wait a minute.” He turned and saw Phoebe and Hattie bearing down on him with Wyatt in tow.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Alyssa?” Phoebe’s voice was low but charged with emotion.

“I had no idea she was here.” This was half true. If it weren’t for his investigator, he wouldn’t know Alyssa had arrived in New Orleans.

“Did you handle the negotiations?” demanded Hattie.

“TriTech hired a consultant to handle the purchase. I was too busy and Jake was in Patagonia.” He resented having to explain himself, but he knew it would happen sooner or later. It was better to do it here than at home, where Phoebe would really pitch a fit.

“You could have stopped it,” hissed Phoebe.

“Stop Jake Williams. Are you serious?”

He’d intentionally made it sound as if acquiring the company had been Jake’s idea. He pointedly looked at Jake and Alyssa.

“Don’t blame Clay,” Wyatt told Phoebe. “They’re in love. Jake said so, remember? That’s why he bought Alyssa’s company.”

In love? Since when? Clay asked himself. Jake wasn’t her type—not at all.

“What are we going to do about her?” Hattie asked Phoebe.

“Nothing,” Clay responded. “Leave her alone.”

“I don’t expect we’ll see too much of her,” Wyatt said. “Jake isn’t the most social guy around.”

“True,” Clay reluctantly admitted. “He’s nothing like his father.”

“I need to talk to Ravelle,” announced Hattie in the self-important tone his mother-in-law often used.

“I’ll see you at home,” Phoebe told him.

Clay planned on spending the night at the Mayfair Club to give Phoebe time to cool off, but he didn’t mention it Instead he watched the trio walk away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alyssa with Jake.

He couldn’t believe they’d gotten together so fast. Something must have happened in Florence that he hadn’t counted on. His temper flared as he imagined Alyssa and Jake in bed. Clay knew he was better looking than Jake, but he had to admit Jake had a certain something that was hard to define. Masculine virility, he decided. He had a presence about him that women would find appealing.

Clay decided he had to act—fast—before he lost the opportunity he’d waited so many years to get.