Page 12

Maggie arrived in Paris late in the afternoon.

She was traveling with her daughter, Sarah, and Sarah’s nanny, Flora Pedigrew, more of a member of the household than an employee.

After the long flight from the East Coast, they’d all slept late that morning, Flora in an adjoining room, Maggie in the room with Sarah.

When the phone rang, Maggie was the first to awaken.

She snatched the receiver up and glanced over to find her daughter still fast asleep.

“This is Maggie.”

“Thought an old trooper like you would be up and at ’em by now.”

She recognized Avery Whitfield’s too-loud voice.

“Good morning, Avery.

I thought you were in Scotland.”

“Was till this morning.

Only a hop, Shep, and a jump, you know.”

Yes, in your Gulfstream, she thought.

“Called to invite you to the little party I’m throwing in honor of the show jumping team.

Dinner at L’Archestrate, a little drinking, dancing at Le Palace—all on me, of course.”

“I have a date.

Can I bring him along?”

“Sure! The more the merrier, I always say.”

“Yes, so you do.”

Maggie was already sorry she’d agreed to go, ashamed of herself for her perverse desire to flaunt her handsome escort in front of Jake Sullivan.

“Go back to your beauty rest,”

Avery said.

“See you tonight at eight.”

The day slipped past.

As evening approached, Maggie dressed for dinner with more care than she had in months, pouring through her traveling wardrobe three times before deciding what to wear.

She settled on a yellow chiffon dress that accented her hair, which she wore loose around her shoulders the way Jake liked it.

She hoped he ate his heart out.

“Will Jake be there tonight, Mama?”

Maggie looked down at Sarah and felt a rush of guilt for allowing him back into her thoughts.

“I suppose so, honey.

Shall I tell him you said hello?”

Sarah started to say yes, then shook her head.

“I don’t think he cares.”

Maggie managed to smile.

“Jake’s just been busy.”

Every time she saw that forlorn expression on Sarah’s face, she wanted to murder Jake Sullivan.

It was one thing for him to break Maggie’s heart, quite another to hurt a nine-year-old child.

“Sometimes I still miss him.

Do you miss him, too?”

Maggie touched her daughter’s cheek, the face a miniature replica of her own except that Sarah’s shoulder-length blond hair was nearly platinum.

“Yes, honey, sometimes I do.

But Jake has the team to think about...and running Pleasant Oaks.

He just didn’t have time for us, that’s all.”

At least that’s what he’d told her.

Maggie hadn’t believed him for a minute.

“He doesn’t love us anymore,”

Sarah said.

“He sent Ransom down, didn’t he?”

And Maggie hadn’t the heart to return Jake’s beautiful horse.

Sarah had been hurt enough already.

Maggie had introduced Jake to Sarah when he’d first visited them in Tampa.

Sarah had adored him from the start, the first person she had responded to after her father’s death.

She’d been isolated and withdrawn, as if she didn’t want to risk loving someone then losing him again.

With Jake she’d been different from the beginning.

Then Jake had called Maggie to say something had come up and he wouldn’t be able to see her that weekend.

The same thing happened the following week.

He made none of his usual calls in between.

When he finally phoned again, he sounded remote and guarded.

“Maggie, I might as well do this now,”

he’d said.

“There’s just no way around it.

We’re going to have to stop seeing each other for a while.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“Things are just too tough right now.

All this traveling back and forth, trying to match our schedules...it just isn’t fair to the team.”

“But I thought...thought we...”

Might get married.

She had been sure he was going to propose.

“Maybe eventually things will calm down.”

Maggie’s throat constricted, the hard lump threatening to choke her. “I see.”

She held the receiver away for a moment, fighting for control.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

Maggie hung up the phone.

Now she knew the truth, that Jake didn’t want her anymore.

It happened to women all the time.

She also knew Jake Sullivan had broken her heart.

Maggie walked out of the hotel elevator to find her escort waiting.

“You look gorgeous, Maggie.

But then you always do.”

In his expensive Italian suit, Dr.

Benjamin Jaffe looked pretty gorgeous himself.

“How old did you say you were?”

he teased, “twenty-five?”

“I’m thirty-eight, and you know it.”

“Well, you look twenty-five.”

He extended his arm and Maggie took it.

They swept through the lobby, turning heads as they passed.

Ben Jaffe was tall and blond, Riviera-tanned and handsome.

A plastic surgeon from Florida, Ben was in France on a sabbatical. He’d been lounging on the beach in St. Tropez.

“I’ve missed you, Maggie.”

She’d been dating Ben for almost a month before he’d left for France.

They’d discussed meeting in Paris, and Ben had phoned last week to confirm the date of her arrival.

She had yet to sleep with him.

She should have accepted his invitation for a weekend in the Bahamas. But Jake was the only man she’d ever been with besides her husband. She simply wasn’t ready yet.

And there was Sarah to consider.

Now Ben was in Paris.

He’d been patient so far, but she knew he intended to press his suit.

Smiling down at her, he shoved open the glass door leading out to the sidewalk in front of the hotel.

With the long line of people pursuing a night on the town, getting a cab was always a problem.

Ben had a private car waiting at the curb.

“Always efficient,”

Maggie said.

“Just like you.”

He smiled, his gaze approving as it moved over her yellow chiffon dress.

He helped her into the car, and they set off.

A doorman waited in front of the expensive restaurant on the Rue de Varenne.

As he opened her door and helped her out, Maggie felt her nerves beginning to build.

She hadn’t seen Jake since the party at the Burbages in North Salem, and only then for a few brief moments.

Afterward, she hadn’t been able to eat for three days.

But she hadn’t had a handsome escort then.

“Thanks for coming, Ben.”

“My pleasure,” he said.

Inside L’Archestrate, Maggie caught the sound of Avery Whitfield’s raucous laughter before they rounded the first corner toward the dining room.

The restaurant was crowded, but the plush brown carpeting and textured beige wallpaper kept the noise subdued.

They passed huge sprays of orange gladiolas, and the tables were set with fine china and crystal.

The waiters all wore black.

Entering the main dining salon, Maggie spotted Avery seated at the head of a single long table next to a sleek-looking blonde.

Avery always preferred blondes, she recalled.

Clay sat on his right next to one of the most stunningly beautiful women Maggie had ever seen.

She was nearly as tall as Clay, thin, but not skinny, with a bone structure any artist would love.

She had thick black hair coiled in a tight chignon but was surprisingly fair complexioned.

Her high-necked black silk sheath with its stark white collar and cuffs reeked of expensive good taste. The entire package was stunning. There was simply no other word for it.

Shep Singleton sat on her left, elegant with his silver hair and black gabardine suit.

Ellie Fletcher sat across from Clay next to Flex McGrath, who sat beside Prissy Knowles.

Jake Sullivan sat near the two vacant chairs at the end.

Dear God, either she or Ben would have to sit beside him.

Sensing her plight, Ben took control, pulling out the velvet chair next to Shep.

Grateful for his thoughtfulness, Maggie stepped in front of the chair but didn’t sit down.

“I’d like you all to meet a friend of mine, Dr.

Benjamin Jaffe.”

She introduced him to each person seated and surprised herself by introducing Jake with no noticeable inflection.

At least he wasn’t with a date.

“This is Gabriella Marchbanks,”

Clay said.

“She’s here for a photo layout for Harper’s.”

“And this is Chauncey Reed,”

Avery added with a leer at the blonde.

They took their seats and Maggie ordered a vodka martini, which she rarely drank.

Tonight, she needed all the courage she could get.

Avery had arranged the meal.

An appetizer of Mousse de brouchet, pike mousse with lobster sauce served with a delicate Riesling Cuvee Frederic Emile.

Maggie just picked at her plate.

“Relax,”

Ben whispered in her ear.

“You’re doing great.”

She was glad Ben thought so.

Her stomach was tied in knots and every time she glanced to her left, she found Jake’s eyes on her, the vivid blue unreadable.

“Are you pleased with the way the team’s shaping up?”

Ben asked Jake as the waiters served the soup, crème de legumes.

“They’re some of the best riders in the world.

They’ll be competing together for the first time on Tuesday, which will help their confidence and give the horses a chance to get back on their feet.”

Jake flicked another glance at Maggie.

“How’s Caesar?”

Flex asked, worried about Prissy’s horse and the trouble he’d had on the plane.

“He looked fine this morning,”

Jake said.

“Whatever they gave him wasn’t meant to do permanent damage.”

“And Zodiak?”

One of Clay’s horses, a big Hanoverian, had cut himself deplaning.

“The wound was minor.

He’ll be able to compete on Thursday.”

The European horse shows usually lasted from Thursday through Sunday, a little less grueling than the American shows, but no less demanding.

The conversation continued and Maggie forced herself to eat.

Dear Lord, she’d be glad when the evening was over.

“Zodiak’s a great horse,”

Ellie said to Flex.

“Clay’s done a great job of bringing him along.”

The minute she said the words, Ellie wished she hadn’t spoken.

She’d caught Clay’s attention, the last thing she wanted to do.

Even in her new two-piece cocktail dress, a pale sea green silk bought hastily that afternoon, she felt shabby in comparison to the woman on Clay’s left.

God, was there no end to his list of beautiful women? Every time Ellie looked at the beautiful New York model she felt like throwing up.

“Thanks for the compliment.”

Clay cast her a grin that dimpled his cheeks.

“I believe it’s a first.”

“Don’t be silly, darling,”

said Gabriella.

“There are dozens of things you do well.”

There was no mistaking her meaning, or the seductive look she cast Clay.

Stifling the reply Ellie wished she had the courage to make, she was relieved when the waiters arrived with the main course, Grenadine de Veau Normande, sautéed veal medallions with mushrooms and crème fraiche glazed with Calvados and slices of apple.

With it, Avery had chosen a Chateau Beychevelle ’76.

Ellie took a courage-boosting sip of the rich red wine, and over the rim of the glass, she watched Clay.

Dressed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt that showed off his tan, he looked every bit the sophisticated playboy, his date the epitome of elegant chic.

Thank God, she’d had enough courage to ask Flex to escort her.

The man was a gem.

“I don’t want Clay to think I can’t get a date,”

she said.

“Do you think you could pretend to be interested in me? Just for tonight?”

Flex grinned from ear to ear.

“This is rich.

I’d love nothing better than to see Clay Whitfield get his comeuppance.

I’ll have him convinced we’re red-hot lovers, if that’s what you want.”

“I thought you two were friends.”

“We’re good friends.

But we’ve been rat f-ing each other for years.

If he thinks I’ve gotten you in bed and he couldn’t, it’ll drive him crazy.”

Ellie hadn’t really intended to carry things that far, but the more she thought about it, the better is sounded.

“That’s exactly what I want.”

Even with his red hair and freckles, Flex was a good-looking man.

He never lacked for female companionship, and his taste in women was impeccable.

She’d heard Clay say so more than once.

“This’ll be a gas,”

Flex said.

“He probably won’t even notice.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Ellie.

You’re one sexy lady.

Clay’s got the hots for you, and he’ll damn well notice.”

Flex grinned and chucked her under the chin.

“It’ll do him good to stew.”

Now, sitting here looking at Clay, she didn’t think their plan had the slightest effect.

Not when Clay had walked into the room with the most beautiful woman Ellie had ever seen.

Thank goodness for Flex, who’d been charming and attentive all evening.

Clay had looked surprised, then skeptical, but Flex had ignored him, holding her hand, whispering in her ear, tickling the back of her knee beneath the table until she giggled.

When the waiter brought dessert, a light Grand Marnier soufflé accompanied by bottles of ’76 Dom Perignon, he kept her glass filled and she downed the champagne until she was dizzy.

“Take it easy,”

Flex whispered.

“You’re doing great.

I never thought I’d say this, but I think he’s really jealous.”

“You’re crazy.

Look at the girl he’s with.

She’s gorgeous.

Why would he care about me?”

“I’m telling you, I’ve known Clay for years, and I’ve never seen him like this.

Here, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Before she could move, Flex bent down and kissed her.

Just a soft, quick kiss.

Not enough to draw attention, but enough to make Clay’s eyes darken.

Ellie saw it and her heart leaped. Until he turned to the beautiful brunette and kissed her full on the mouth.

Flex chuckled softly.

“What’d I tell you?”

“I’m leaving,”

Ellie said.

Flex tightened his hold on her arm, keeping her firmly in her chair.

“No, you aren’t.

We’re going to see this through.

Something’s going on here, and I’m going to help you find out what it is.”

Ellie sighed.

Why the hell not? She took a deep breath, a drink of champagne, and smiled up at Flex, the most seductive smile she could manage.

Flex squeezed her hand and flashed her a grin.

“Everybody having fun?”

Avery asked.

Shep Singleton lifted his glass.

“To our host, Avery Whitfield, for a marvelous evening.”

“To winning the gold in Seoul,”

Avery countered, “and to my son, Clay, who makes me so proud.”

Clay’s scowl faded at his father’s praise, and everyone drank heartily.

Glasses were refilled, and by the end of the meal almost everyone was drunk.

“I say it’s time we head to Le Palace,”

Avery said.

“Time to work off some of these calories.

Wouldn’t want you all to break training any worse than you already have!”

Ellie managed not to roll her eyes.

They all left in taxis, Ellie trying to convince Flex to let her go back to the hotel, Flex staunchly refusing.

“We’re seeing this thing through.”

He laughed.

“I can’t wait to see how it all turns out.”

“I can tell you how it’ll turn out.

Clay will take Ms.

Marchbanks back to the hotel and screw her all night.

I’ll go home alone. And you...? Well, I don’t know exactly what you’ll do.”

“Probably the same as you.

I’m thinking about getting serious with someone.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Who is she? Do I know her?”

“Nobody knows her.

We met at the Tucson show early this year.

We’ve been seeing each other off and on ever since.

Her name’s Carrie Schweitzer. She’s not a rider. She was there with a friend.”

“Flex, that’s wonderful.”

“I’m thinking of flying her over for Seoul.”

“That’s great.

I really wish you the best.”

“I know you do, Ellie.

That’s one of the things I like about you.

You want the best for everyone.

Even Clay.”

“I want the worst for Clay.”

She glanced down, her gaze catching a spring poking through the cab’s worn seat.

The taxi driver honked his horn, shook his fist out the window, and cursed at another driver.

“You don’t want the worst for Clay,”

Flex said.

“I bet if you thought he’d be happy with that model, you’d be glad for him.”

“Probably.

I never was very smart.”

“You’re plenty smart.

I think that’s one reason Clay’s so attracted to you.”

“He isn’t attracted to me.”

“Bullshit.

He’s been watching you all evening.

He’s hardly looked at the gorgeous brunette.”

“Did you have to bring her up?”

“I’m telling you something’s up.

Clay never acts like this.”

“He just wants to sleep with me.

I’m just another challenge to him.”

“I bet a hundred French francs, you’re wrong.

But with Clay, you never know what he’s thinking.”

“He’s thinking about getting laid.

That’s all he ever thinks about.”

“He might surprise you.”

“Oh, he’s done that several times already.”

Flex just laughed.

The cab screeched to a halt, slinging them against the seat.

Flex got out, then helped Ellie.

“Can you dance?”

She smiled.

“It’s a little-known secret, but I’m a terrific dancer.

I use dance routines for aerobics.

I don’t usually strut my stuff unless I’m drunk.”

Flex grinned.

“Perfect.”