CHAPTER 20

It had taken Alyssa over an hour to go back to the hospital and sneak into the parking lot to retrieve the car she’d rented when she’d arrived from Italy. She’d wasted another half-hour going to the French Quarter only to find a coven of reporters outside Aunt Thee’s house. She hadn’t bothered going inside. She called Clay’s house from a pay phone and found out Phoebe was spending the next several days at her parent’s home.

The guard at the gate of Audubon Street, where she had once lived with the LeCroix family, still remembered her and waved her into the compound of expensive homes. The LeCroix home was at the far end of the street, where Jake’s father had bought a mansion. The other night when Alyssa had been there, she’d blotted out memories of her youth, but now they rushed back into her consciousness with a vengeance.

A small child walking up the street alone, not realizing this was among the most exclusive neighborhoods in New Orleans. Nothing was going to bound out from behind the immaculately clipped shrubs to pounce on her. Later, she saw herself as a middle school student trudging her way up the street in the pouring rain, her books in her backpack. In either scenario no one would be there to greet her. Hattie LeCroix was always gone or upstairs resting. Verna, the housekeeper, who was formally in charge of Alyssa, was too swamped with work to be bothered.

Alyssa had been all alone, the way she was today. Now, there was one difference. Someone cared—Aunt Thee.

“They have company,” Alyssa mumbled under her breath as she approached the place she’d called home for so many years. Luxury cars lined the drive. No doubt, Hattie was having a tea or a committee meeting for one of the myriad charities she joined in order to show off her home, her clothes, her jewelry.

Alyssa rang the bell and waited, hearing the faint murmur of voices. Finally, a uniformed maid Alyssa didn’t know answered the door.

“I’m here to see Phoebe Le—Duvall,” she said.

“They’re in a meeting, Miss—”

“Tell Phoebe it’s an emergency. Alyssa Rossi is here to see her.”

The maid backed away, and Alyssa couldn’t tell if she’d recognized her name or if her firm tone had persuaded her. She didn’t care. What mattered now was talking to Phoebe.

After Sanchez had left her in Jake’s loft, Alyssa had paced the rooftop deck with Benson, thinking. Bloated clouds with leaden underbellies had clustered overhead, promising rain soon. Benson had taken his time, but finally left a healthy deposit on the turf that had been planted especially for him.

By then, Alyssa was determined to talk to Phoebe. They’d lived under the same roof—this roof—for all those years, but they hardly knew each other. They looked alike, but had little in common except a father who had rejected them.

And a brother. Wyatt was closer to Phoebe, of course, being her full brother. Still, he was also related to Alyssa. Looking back, she realized Wyatt had been kind to her—in his own way. Hattie had been absorbed with comparing the two girls and ignored Wyatt. She guessed he’d never felt the same level of competition that Phoebe had.

“This way,” the maid said a few minutes later.

She led Alyssa into the small library adjacent to the living room. Alyssa rarely had been in this room when she’d lived with the LeCroix family. It had been Gordon’s exclusive domain even though he was seldom in the house.

She glanced around, inhaling the sweet scent of the Cuban cigars Gordon smoked in here, indulging his bad habit despite Hattie’s disapproval. The shelves were lined with books and golf trophies. She’d forgotten how good a golfer Gordon was. He’d won the club championship several times and had other trophies as well. Among the many photos of his golfing buddies, there wasn’t a single photograph of the family.

“Alyssa … what are you doing here?”

Phoebe spoke in a hushed voice as if she didn’t want the women down the hall to know what was happening. Alyssa faced the person she’d always thought of as her cousin. Her half-sister. Her father’s other daughter.

“I need to talk to you.” She motioned to the two wing chairs opposite Gordon’s desk.

Phoebe took the chair beside Alyssa, like a reigning queen, her back rigid, her chin tilted upward. “Hurry up. The committee is waiting for my report.”

For a heartbeat, Alyssa studied the face that was so much like her own. They were sisters. They shouldn’t be enemies.

“We’re sisters. I just found out.”

Phoebe arched one plucked eyebrow. “You should have realized the truth a long time ago.”

True. Alyssa silently admitted she had been too intimidated to look beyond what she’d been told. She was stronger now, thanks to Aunt Thee’s love.

“Don’t you think it’s time we acted more like sisters?” she asked.

“What?” The single word echoed through the small room like the brittle crack of a rifle. “Don’t you dare come waltzing in here expecting me to welcome you just because you figured out we’re half-sisters. Forget it. You want Clay.”

“I don’t care about Clay. I—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Phoebe’s voice kept getting louder with each word. “You’ve always loved Clay. You’d do anything to break us up.”

Alyssa couldn’t believe how stubborn and irrational Phoebe was. “I’ve lived in Italy for years now. There’s nothing between Clay—”

“Really? Then what were you doing last night at Check Point Charlie’s?”

Alyssa had known better than to appear at such a public spot. Obviously, someone had seen them and reported it to Phoebe. “I wanted to talk to Clay about you.”

Phoebe sat up straighter—if possible—and trained her eyes on Alyssa. “You did. Why?”

“I wanted to ask him if he’d known we were sisters not just cousins.” She waited for a response from Phoebe, but received nothing more than a hostile stare. “He said he’d known for years.”

“So what?”

“I also asked him if I should try to patch up our differences.”

Phoebe leaped to her feet, yelling, “It was just an excuse to be with Clay.”

Alyssa motioned for her to calm down and kept her voice low so they didn’t disturb the meeting. “This isn’t about Clay. It’s about us.”

“What’s going on?” Hattie asked as she burst into the room followed by several other women.

“She’s after Clay,” Phoebe insisted.

Hattie leveled Alyssa with the censuring glare she’d remembered from her childhood. “Leave now.”

Alyssa looked beyond Hattie and saw Ravelle Renault standing in the hall. Criminy! Clay was right. This had been a terrible idea.

“Get out!” screamed Hattie.

Alyssa rose slowly and left, ignoring the hostile stares of the women gathered in the hall. What had she hoped to accomplish? For years, Phoebe had known the truth. What had made Alyssa think that Phoebe would now be willing to discuss their differences?

She wanted to go home and change clothes, but a bevy of reporters was standing in front of Aunt Thee’s town house. Suddenly, heavy plops of rain pummeled the windshield of the car. Within seconds the rain became a torrential downpour, the kind that often flooded New Orleans.

She had no choice but to go back to Jake’s. She drove over to the Warehouse District and spotted a parking space a pizza delivery van had just vacated. She pulled in, grateful she was less than a block from Jake’s loft.

She slipped out of the subcompact and dashed for the loft. She found the key she’d hidden—just in case—under the fifth pot on the way up the stairs.

“Jake? Jake?”

No one answered when she unlocked the front door. Benson greeted her with an excited bark and a slather of kisses on her extended hand. It was too early to expect Jake to be home. She could take a hot shower while drying her soaked clothes before having to deal with him.

She knew Sanchez was right. Jake didn’t give a hoot what people thought. He was giving her the deep freeze for some other reason. She was going to ask him and hope she had more luck than she’d had with Phoebe.

Rain hammered the skylight and filled the huge loft with the racket. She flicked on the lights and walked across the room. Benson trotted behind her as she went into the kitchen to use the telephone.

Alyssa called Aunt Thee’s room, but a nurse answered and told her Aunt Thee was sleeping. Her condition had improved and they expected her to be released tomorrow. She hung up, hoping by tomorrow she’d be yesterday’s news and she could bring Aunt Thee home without having to run a gauntlet of reporters.

Jake left the office early. He wanted to see what the fax from Overton and Overton revealed. He’d arranged to have Sanchez meet him here instead of the office. He unlocked the front door and expected Benson to greet him. The retriever wasn’t anywhere in sight. A female voice coming from the bathroom was singing “Amazing Grace.”

Alyssa. Aw, hell. He thought she would have gone home by now. He didn’t want to deal with her. Too much was happening, too fast He didn’t want to believe Troy, his main man, had done this, but there wasn’t any other explanation for the altered report Jake had seen. Disillusionment and a bone-deep sense of betrayal left him tight-lipped, repressing his anger, his hurt.

Worse, he didn’t want to find out Max had been behind the scheme. They didn’t have much in common, but Jake had become accustomed to having a father. He wanted to believe Max trusted him to run the company on his own.

If the emotion Jake was riding had been simple anger, he might have cooled down by now. But it wasn’t. They’d turned on him.

Would he be forced to go back to Mobile’s docks? Possibly. Would he give a damn? Yes … and no. He’d grown these last few years. Mobile and the sport fishing fleet he still owned seemed like a distant memory, a life that had belonged to someone else. Yet Mobile was a safe harbor. He could go home again, but he’d always ask himself if he’d missed something.

He put down his briefcase and hung up his raincoat on the hall tree he’d purchased at Aunt Annie’s Antique Shoppe down the street. He shrugged out of his sport coat and removed his tie.

What was he going to do about Alyssa? Before he could answer his own question, she came out of the bathroom at the far side of the loft.

Wearing nothing but a towel.

Like a siren, she called to him, urging him to come closer and be destroyed. Fool that he was, Jake had been prepared to do anything for her.

“Oh, my God!” she shrieked, jumping to one side. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, remember?”

“I know. You frightened me.” She clutched the towel around her. “I wasn’t expecting you to come home so early. I got caught in the rain, so I put my clothes in the dryer and took a hot shower. I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s too late if I did.” He knew he sounded like a real prick, but he couldn’t help himself. Just thinking of Alyssa with Clay sent a rush of scalding fury through his body.

“Is there a robe or something I could put on while my clothes dry?”

Without a word, he walked into his bedroom and took his robe off the hook inside the large armoire he used as a closet. He walked back into the living area where she was waiting for him. Benson, the traitor, was beside Alyssa, gazing up at her with adoring eyes, tail wagging. He handed her the robe and turned to go into the office area to check the fax.

She caught his arm. “I need to talk to you.”

“So talk.”

She slipped into the robe and belted it without taking off the towel. “Let’s sit down.”

He sat in the chair to prevent her from sitting beside him on the couch. “I’m in a hurry. I’ve got work to do.”

She sat on the sofa opposite him, her expression concerned. What did she expect from him?

“I can tell you’re upset with me. I want to know why.”

He wanted to blow off this whole situation. He knew better than to get involved with a woman who worked for him. Trying to think of something to say, he gazed at her. He hated liars and refused to demean himself by not telling the truth.

Still, male pride, or whatever, kept him silent. He did not want to admit he was jealous of Clay Duvall. Doing so would give Alyssa power over him, something he’d never given a woman before now.

“I don’t like being in the middle of a mess like this,” he said.

“I know what you mean. I’ve been nothing but trouble. I’m sorry,” she replied, sounding genuinely upset. “You’ve been very understanding. I would never have expected as much from … anyone in your position.”

He nodded, unsure of what to say.

“Forgive me for embarrassing you—embarrassing TriTech with my problems.”

“Embarrassed? I’m not embarrassed. Why would you think I am?”

“I know this is a difficult time, but you keep distancing yourself from me.” She leaned across the coffee table as if to close the space between them. “Even though I’ve thought we had become close.”

“Close?” He spit it out as if it were a four-letter word.

She studied his face intently, her eyes narrowing. “Is this about my being with Clay last night at Check Point Charlie’s?”

He considered denying it, but knew he’d be pissed with himself if he did. “No. Not exactly,” he hedged. “You claim you can’t stand Clay. You pitched a fit when you found out he was part of TriTech. Yet every chance you get, you’re with him.”

“No, I’m not! He came by the hospital last night, and I was very upset over the Code Pink. I had this terrible feeling, and I was right. I would be blamed. Something else happened, and I wanted to talk to you in the worst way.”

“What about?”

“It doesn’t matter now. You don’t want to get involved. I understand.” She stood up. “I’m sure my clothes are dry by now. I’ll get dressed and go.”

He watched her walk away. Getting sex had always been a cinch. He never looked beyond the moment. He’d never wanted a lasting relationship until now. Face it, schmuck, she’s got your number.

A bolt of lightning arced across the sky and flooded the loft with searing blue-white light. Half a second later a crack of thunder like an explosion rattled the windows. He couldn’t let Alyssa go out in this storm. He lunged to his feet and followed her to the laundry room concealed behind screens at the far side of the loft. The dryer was still running, and he thought her clothes weren’t done.

He stepped around the screen and stopped. Alyssa was standing there stark naked. His heart seized, and he couldn’t draw a breath. Sweet Jesus.

He’d never seen her without clothes, but he’d imagined it once or twice. Okay, more than once or twice. Too many times to count. His wildest dreams were nothing compared to the real deal.

Time halted, seconds fractured. Neither of them looked away. In the shadowy darkness her eyes seemed greener than usual. She made no attempt to cover up even though his robe and the towel were on top of the washing machine close by.

His eyes roved over her body. Not centerfold material but damn close. High full breasts crowned by dusky nipples. A small waist. Slim tapered hips. A triangle of downy golden hair. Long, showgirl legs.

A jolt of quivery heat spread through his body. Every muscle in his body tightened with primal need. Aw, hell. He was achingly hard.

Inwardly cursing his own weakness, he reached out and touched her bare shoulder. His fingertips skimmed downward, barely maintaining contact as he traced the soft curve of her breast. The nipple formed a tight bead. He cradled her warm breast in the palm of his hand and brushed his thumb across the taut nipple.

“Jake.”

Something about the erotic way she whispered his name, so softly he could barely hear it above the rain pummeling the skylight, extinguished what remained of his willpower. He smothered her lips with his. He didn’t want to hear what she might say. He didn’t want to think or rationalize or anything. He intended to lose himself in her. Regrets could come later.