Page 13

“I’ve taken a suite at Le Crillon,”

Ben said to Maggie as the car roared through the crowded Paris streets.

Though the words went unsaid, each knew they would not be going to Le Palace.

“Why don’t we stop by for a nightcap?”

The offer was for more than a drink, and Maggie knew it.

Until tonight, it was exactly what she’d planned.

There was nothing she wanted more than to forget Jake Sullivan.

An affair with the handsome doctor might be just the remedy she needed.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t in love with Ben.

A fact that an evening with Jake had made all too clear.

“I don’t know.

It’s been a long night, Ben, and I have a tough day tomorrow.”

“That isn’t it and we both know it.

It’s because of Jake.”

“It isn’t.”

She glanced away.

“Well, maybe in a way it is.

My guard is up and I’m having an awful time letting it down again.”

“How long has it been since you slept with a man?”

Maggie’s shoulders straightened.

She might not have answered if it hadn’t been for his look of concern.

“After Les died, there’s only been Jake.”

Ben smiled indulgently and patted her hand.

“You’re a mature woman, Maggie.

With a woman’s wants and needs.

You don’t have to be in love with me—at least not yet. Let me make love to you. Let me soothe your troubles and give you a little release.”

“You make it all sound so clinical.”

Ben’s smile widened.

“I promise it won’t feel that way.”

“I don’t know, Ben.”

“Tell you what.

We’ll start with the drink and see where we wind up.

Fair enough?”

“I guess so.”

“Driver, conduisez-nous a Le Crillon, s’il vous plait,”

Ben said.

Apparently content with her answer, he leaned back against the seat.

It’s only a drink, Maggie told herself.

You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

Streetlights flashed as the car rolled along, braking again and again to avoid the bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Maggie’s nerves returned as they neared the hotel, making her more and more uncertain.

And something else was bothering her.

Something Jake had said to her just as she and Ben were leaving.

They’d all been clustered in the doorway, Ben holding her hand while they waited for the car to arrive.

When he left for a moment, Jake walked up beside her.

“Maggie, I know I’ve caused you nothing but grief.

You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

His eyes held hers, their old familiar power stirring unwanted emotions.

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.”

He glanced at Ben, who stood chatting with the doorman.

“Be sure of your feelings, Maggie.”

As Ben returned, Jake stepped back inside the doorway out of sight.

What had his words meant? Was he just apologizing for the hurt he’d caused, or was he trying to tell her something? Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.

Was Jake in some kind of trouble? She couldn’t believe it, yet the plea in his voice sounded real.

Her woman’s intuition said she couldn’t have been that wrong about the man she loved.

Her common sense said Jake was just covering his bets.

The car pulled up in front of the gray stone exterior of the exclusive Crillon, once a seventeenth century palace.

Maggie let Ben help her out.

She smoothed her yellow chiffon dress, and headed for the revolving door, a warm breeze ruffled her hair as she walked next to Ben.

Though the hour was late, by Parisian standards the evening was still early.

She would make her decision when the time came.

Until then, she intended to enjoy herself.

Jake Sullivan could just go to hell.

Jake instructed the cab to let him out on the Champs-Elysees.

He needed to walk, breathe in some fresh night air, settle his emotions.

He shouldn’t have spoken to Maggie.

He had given up that privilege when he’d ended their affair eight months ago.

Even then, he’d wanted to tell her, explain, ask her to wait.

He hadn’t for only one reason—

He might be forced to do what Nikolai Popov demanded.

He hadn’t mentioned that possibility to Daniel, and he wouldn’t.

But Jake would do whatever was necessary to protect his mother and sister.

The consequences would be his alone.

He wouldn’t allow Maggie and Sarah to get involved. He loved them both too much.

Jake walked along the crowded sidewalk, passing couples strolling arm-in-arm, tourists, and old men walking their dogs.

The impressive Arc de Triomphe rose ahead, its usually glowing lights shrouded by canvas and a honey-comb maze of scaffolding where workers cleaned and repaired the structure.

As he skirted the Place de la Concorde with its beautiful lighted fountain, he thought of the hours he would spend in his room tonight, trying in vain to sleep.

Instead of going back to the hotel, he headed down a side street.

It was one o’clock in Paris, but only eight a.m.

in Washington. Maybe Daniel would have news of Popov.

Checking behind him, he noticed his usual watchdog following some distance away.

Three quick turns, a darting move through traffic, an exit through the side door of a café, and Jake lost him to the teeming Paris throng.

He ducked into a small, crowded bistro and headed toward a pay phone in the rear.

Pulling the heavy glass door closed to shut out the raucous laughter and conversation, he dialed Daniel’s home number.

“About time you checked in,”

Daniel said after the first ring.

“Have you come up with anything yet?”

“So far the news is not encouraging.

Our people in Moscow have confirmed at least one of Popov’s superiors is aware of his moves.

We believe it may go all the way to the top.”

Jake felt sick to his stomach.

If the government was backing Popov, he’d had to do whatever they asked.

“How soon will you know for sure?”

“This whole mess is tricky.

We don’t want to give our people away, so we have to move slowly.

We’re trying to do what’s best for you and your family, but there are other considerations, as well.”

Like the safety and welfare of the team, Jake thought.

After the incident on the plane, he worried he’d already put them in danger.

“Anything further on your end?”

Daniel asked.

Jake took a moment to answer, weighing how much he should say.

“Not so far.

Popov hasn’t made contact again.”

“He’s bound to, sooner or later.

I’m surprised he hasn’t made some offensive gesture to prove his point.”

“Nothing yet,”

Jake lied, making a sudden decision not to report the incident on the plane.

He should have notified the Paris police and those in New York, but he’d suspected it had something to do with the Russian.

Hearing Daniel’s words, he felt more certain than ever.

He had to play for time, get all the facts before he decided what to do.

“Stay in touch,”

Daniel said.

“That means I expect a call every day or two.

If anything unusual happens, let me know.”

“I will.”

“And Jake...? Take care of yourself.

Popov’s no fool.

From what it says in his dossier, he’s taken more than a few men out.”

His stomach knotted.

“Is there anything else in his file I should know?”

“Only that his son died in an assembly line accident about five years after you left the country.

Apparently, the boy was extremely bright, and Popov had big plans for him.

After what happened in Rome, the son was removed from school and placed in an auto factory.

Popov might feel you’re in some way responsible for his death.”

Jake released a slow breath.

“Thanks, Dan.”

“Get some sleep.

You need all your wits about you.

Besides, I expect the American team to win.”

Jake smiled.

After a gruff, “Good night,”

he hung up.

The phone.

Sliding the booth door open, he moved into the hallway, then found a seat at a small table in a far corner of the bistro.

The place smelled faintly of tobacco and perfume.

A piano player plunked out some timeless melody Jake vaguely remembered.

Leaning back in his chair, he ordered a cognac, then pulled a thin Cuban cigar Avery Whitfield had given him from his inside coat pocket.

Though he’d given up smoking, he allowed himself an occasional lapse.

He hoped it would brighten his mood.

But as he inhaled the pungent tobacco and the blue smoke curled around his head, the noise and gaiety swept over him, and his loneliness grew even more intense.

He couldn’t help thinking of Maggie, remembering their evenings together.

They’d discovered they had dozens of things in common: horses, classical music, love of the opera and ballet, an appreciation he owed his Soviet upbringing.

He’d only known her a couple of weeks and he was falling in love with her.

He didn’t want to rush her.

He needed to be patient, give her time to get over the guilt she felt for her husband’s death.

They’d been seeing each other steadily for over a month before she admitted Les hadn’t been the world’s greatest husband.

“We didn’t really have what you would call a romantic relationship,”

she had said.

“My parents introduced us.

Les’s father was the senior partner at a prestigious law firm in Tampa.

Marrying him just seemed the right thing to do.”

“Were you in love with him?”

Jake asked.

“I loved him.

He was a good provider and a good father to Sarah.

I missed him terribly after he was gone.”

“That isn’t quite the same thing.

Your parents wanted you to marry Les, but that’s in the past.

The question now is what do you want?”

She smiled wistfully.

“Pretty much what every woman wants.

Someone who loves me.

Someone I can love in return. I’m getting older, but I’d like to have another child.”

Jake had never considered having children, but with Maggie, the notion felt right.

“I want the kind of love that two people share,”

she finished.

“This time, I won’t settle for less.”

Jake took a sip of his cognac and shoved the painful memories aside.

He wondered if Maggie was still with the handsome Dr.

Jaffe and his grip on the snifter tightened.

Let Daniel and his men find a way to stop Nikolai Popov, he prayed.

And let Maggie Delaine wait for me.

The nightclub echoed to the beat of hard rock music.

Clay sat next to Gabriella across from Ellie and Flex.

Shep, Prissy, Avery, and Chauncey rounded out the table.

Le Palace was considered very “in”

and outrageously chic.

Women in leather mini’s, patrons with violet blue-black hair, men bare-chested beneath expensive leather vests.

The music was loud, and strobe lights flashed above the dance floor.

“Lots of young pussy, ”

Avery whispered to Clay.

It was just the sort of place his father loved.

Clay figured being there made his dad feel younger.

Chauncey seemed enthralled.

She simpered over Avery and played with his thigh under the table.

They danced again and again, guzzling champagne in between songs.

Clay danced with Gabriella and with Prissy. Shep had returned from his sojourn around the bar, looking for fun of a different sort than Clay enjoyed, though his friend had become more selective over years.

The waitress brought a fresh round of drinks, Clay another scotch and soda, Avery and Chauncey more champagne.

Flex whispered something in Ellie’s ear, she giggled and flashed him a smile, and they got up to dance.

Clay’s stomach tightened and his ulcer began to gnaw.

Ellie had been drinking all evening.

It was obviously not a common occurrence, and she was more than a little drunk.

Flex seemed delighted. Every time her glass was empty, he refilled it. He’d been nibbling her ear, rubbing her thigh, running his fingers through her hair all evening. It was all Clay could do to keep from pulling him across the table and punching him in the face.

The feeling astonished him.

He’d never been jealous a day in his life.

He and Flex had sparred off and on over the same women for years.

It was a hobby, an amusement, nothing more. Tonight, Clay wasn’t amused.

The beat of the music throbbed low and sensuous.

On the dance floor, Flex pulled Ellie close and settled his cheek against hers.

Clay’s fury mounted.

When had Ellie taken an interest in Flex? Until tonight, Clay had been certain sooner or later she would be his.

“Dance with me, darling,”

Gabriella whispered in his ear.

Her throaty voice alone was usually enough to arouse him.

Tonight, he couldn’t summon enough interest for a kiss.

Clay helped her up and drew her onto the dance floor.

Nearly as tall as he, Gabby pressed against him, grinding her hips in a sensual rhythm that finally achieved what usually came easy.

“You wouldn’t want to embarrass me, would you?”

he teased.

“But of course, darling.”

She laughed in that throaty way that used to drive him crazy.

“If you prefer, we can do this back in your suite.”

Clay’s eyes fastened on Ellie.

“Not just yet.”

Ellie laughed uproariously at something Flex said while his hand moved lower, curving over her sexy derriere.

Damn him! Clay pulled Gabby closer.

He massaged her slim hips, but his mind stayed on Ellie.

What was it about her that attracted him so strongly? She wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Gabby, yet she seemed more so.

He watched her smile up at Flex, and his stomach turned over.

She looked enchanting, so fresh and warm and sweet.

Earlier he’d caught the whiff of White Shoulders, the orange blossom perfume she always wore.

It fit her somehow, nothing cloying or heavy, just pure and honest, the way Ellie was herself.

The dance ended and the tempo of the music increased.

Clay started back toward the table, preferring music with a slower beat.

“Please, darling?”

Gabby pleaded.

Clay glanced at Ellie and his mouth dropped open.

She swayed to the music, her legs braced a little apart, her skirt riding up and her head thrown back.

Flex danced across from her, grinning from ear to ear.

Clay stayed on the dance floor.

Gabby danced wildly in front of him while Clay danced unconsciously, ignoring her and watching Ellie in disbelief.

She was good.

He’d give her that.

Every movement was fluid, practiced, and flawless.

She seemed alive in a way he’d never seen her. He felt a surge of desire like nothing he’d ever known. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He was rock hard and throbbing.

Ellie swayed and circled, using her hips suggestively, running her hands through her thick mahogany hair.

It cascaded over her shoulders, and heavy red-brown strands fell over one eye.

She looked like a beautiful gypsy.

Clay swallowed hard.

It was all he could do to breathe.

In his mind she danced for him naked, swirling and turning, displaying her full breasts for him alone.

The music increased its tempo.

Flex put his hands on Ellie’s waist and lifted her onto a table near the edge of the dance floor.

Ellie seemed not to notice.

She continued her gyrations in perfect rhythm, swaying to the music, her small feet never nearing the edge of the table. What in God’s name would she be like in bed?

The people on the dance floor stopped dancing and surrounded the table.

The riders and even his dad started clapping.

Flex just stood there, grinning like a fool.

“Looks as though the little church mouse isn’t such a mouse after all,”

Gabby breathed in his ear.

The beat went faster.

Ellie whirled and closed her eyes, slid her hands down her body, and began to unbutton the top of her two-piece dress.

Clay’s control snapped.

“Go back to the table,”

he told Gabby, then made his way to the front of the crowd where Flex stood clapping and grinning.

“You stop her, or I will.”

His hands fisted as he tried to control his fury.

“Be my guest,”

Flex said.

Ellie tossed the top of her dress into the crowd with a throaty laugh.

Standing in her skirt and a lacy white chemise, she shook her shoulders in rhythm to the music.

She seemed not to notice the others in the room.

When she moved sideways, bending down provocatively, and shaking her shoulders, Clay’s arms snaked out, and with one quick tug, he pulled her over his shoulder, her hair falling down his back like a silky curtain.

Ellie didn’t fight him, just let him carry her across the dance floor and out onto the street where he propped her up against the wall of the building.

“What in the name of heaven do you think you’re doing?”

Ellie smiled up at him, unable to focus.

“I love to dance, don’t you?”

Clay just growled.

“You’re drunk, and you’re going back to the hotel.”

“Is the party over?”

“It’s over for you.”

Turning to the doorman, he motioned for a taxi.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Ellie swayed on her feet.

Clay helped her around to the side of the building, but she didn’t throw up and eventually some of her color returned.

“I’m all right,”

she told him with a crooked smile. “Thanks.”

“What are friends for?”

he said sarcastically.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her to a cab that had arrived at the curb.

Settling her inside, he instructed the driver to wait until he got back, then went back into the bar.

“I’m taking Ellie back to the hotel,”

he told Flex, who clutched the top of Ellie’s dress like a trophy.

“You bring Gabby.”

Flex shook his head.

“No way.

I’ll take Ellie back.”

“Are we leaving?”

Gabby asked, walking up beside Clay, martini in hand.

“Yes.”

Clay set the glass aside, took her wrist and towed her out to the cab, Flex following in his wake.

Settling Gabriella in front, both men climbed in back, one on each side of Ellie.

On the ride to the hotel, Clay snatched the top of the dress away from Flex and helped Ellie put it on.

He buttoned up the front, trying not to notice the feel of her soft breasts beneath his fingers.

Flex pushed disheveled strands of her hair back out of her face.

Once out of the cab, Ellie clung to Flex’s arm, Gabby clutched Clay’s, and they moved through the lobby, caught the elevator up to the fifth floor.

Flex stopped at the door to his room, his arm around Ellie’s waist.

“Oh, no you don’t,”

Clay said.

“Let her get lucky,”

said Gabby.

“I intend to.”

She nibbled the side of Clay’s neck.

Ellie straightened.

“I’m going with Flex.”

“You’re going to your room,”

Clay said.

“It’s her decision.”

Flex slipped the door key in the lock and turned the knob.

“Come on, darling, I’m horny,”

Gabby said.

Ellie set her jaw.

“I’m a grown woman.

I can sleep with anyone I want.”

“Bravo,”

said Gabby.

Clay gritted his teeth, grabbed Gabriella’s arm, and headed down the hall.

Flex’s door closed softly behind them.

“Are you all right?”

Flex asked once they got inside.

“No.

I’m drunk, thanks to you.

I made a complete ass out of myself, and Clay hates my guts.”

“You look a little better than you did at the nightclub.”

“All that dancing, the cool air, and the cab ride helped.”

She slumped down on the bed, still dizzy, but a lot less drunk.

“Why can’t I just be like other girls, Flex? I’ve wanted Clay since the first time I met him.

Why can’t I just sleep with him and get it over with?”

Flex sat down beside her.

“Sleeping with Clay wouldn’t solve your problem.

I think you’re in love with him.”

“I can’t be!”

“You probably shouldn’t be.

I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, let alone someone I care about.”

Ellie’s eyes filled with tears.

“I’m such a prude, such a stupid, idiotic prude.”

“You’re not a prude.

You’re just particular, that’s all.

I’m sure the men you’ve slept with have all meant something to you.

They weren’t just one-night stands.”

Ellie sniffed.

“What men?”

Flex’s red eyebrows shot up.

“What do you mean, what men?”

He grabbed her shoulders.

“You’re not telling me you’ve never had a boyfriend?”

“Don’t be silly.

I’m twenty-four years old.

Of course, I’ve had boyfriends.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’ve just never went to bed with any of them.”

Flex’s eyes widened.

“You’ve got to be kidding.

You’re a virgin? No way.

Not in this day and age.”

“I need to use your bathroom.

I feel rotten.”

Keeping an eye on her, Flex led her to the bathroom door.

When Ellie came out, she felt a lot more sober and a whole lot sicker, her head throbbing with the force of consecutive hammer blows.

“You’re not getting off this easy,”

Flex said.

“I want to hear the story.

There has to be one.”

Ellie released a soft, resigned sigh.

She told Flex about her seeing disorder, the years before her surgery, how hard it was to adjust afterward.

She told him about her love of show jumping and how much she’d wanted to compete.

When she finished, Flex just stared.

“Wow, that’s some story, all right.

And of all the people you could have fallen for, you had to pick Clay.”

“I told you I wasn’t very smart.”

Ellie fell back on the bed.

“My head hurts.

God, how will I ever face Prissy and Shep, let alone Clay?”

“They’ve all done as bad or worse.

Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

Outside her door, Ellie looked up at Flex.

“Tomorrow I’m going to apologize and tell Clay the truth.”

“The hell you are.

You’ve gone this far you’re going to see it through.

Clay’s never once shown an interest in a woman the way he has you.

He went crazy when he saw you up on that table. He feels something for you, Ellie. Give him a chance to sort it out. I know him a hell of a lot better than you do. Let me do my part and you do yours.”

“What is my part?”

“Just be yourself.

You’re not in love with me.

You just wanted a little fun.

I felt the same way. Got it?”

“Whatever you say.”

Ellie opened the door to her room.

Prissy Knowles was fast asleep beneath the covers.

Ellie said a prayer of thanks.

She wasn’t ready to face Prissy or anyone else.

“Good night, Flex, and thanks for being a friend.”

“No problem.

You just get some sleep.”

Ellie nodded, walked in and closed the door.

Lord, what a fool she’d made of herself.

And all because of Clay Whitfield.

How would she ever be able to face him?

“How could you do it?”

Clay said to Flex the next morning at the show grounds.

Dressed in boots and breeches and leading Max toward the practice ring, Clay’s temper remained on edge.

Why shouldn’t it be? He’d sent Gabriella packing while one of his best friends slept with Ellie Fletcher.

Unconsciously, his grip tightened on the horse’s reins.

“How could I do what?”

Flex asked innocently.

“Get her drunk and take advantage of her.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

“I’m a bastard.

You’re supposed to be a nice guy.”

“You mean I’m the nice guy who got in her knickers and you’re the bastard who didn’t.”

Clay made a noise in his throat that sounded like a growl.

“You heard her yourself,”

Flex said.

“She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s na?ve.

Any fool can see that.”

“Look, if it’ll make you feel any better, she’s been sleeping with Gerry Winslow all along.”

“Her groom?”

Clay stopped short, his expression incredulous.

“Don’t look so surprised.

You sleep with Linda Gibbons, don’t you?”

“Yes, but that’s different.”

“Seems to me, what’s good for the gander is good for the goose.

Why is it different for Ellie?”

“Dammit, I don’t know.”

He glanced across the ring at his fellow teammates, who worked their horses over the jumps.

“I guess I just thought Ellie was...Ellie was...”

“Special?”

“I guess so.”

“She is.”

Clay’s head came up.

“She’s a great girl, Clay.

She’s a hell of a rider, and everyone on the team likes her.

On top of that, she’s a terrific lover.

Probably even better than Gabby Marchbanks.”

Clay stiffened.

“If you must know, I sent Gabby back to her hotel.

After your little display, I felt more like decking someone that getting laid.”

“Can I help it if Ellie’s got good taste?”

“So I suppose you two are an item.”

“Not at all.

Ellie and I are just good friends.

Last night was a little diversion.

I don’t think she meant for it to happen, but...”

Flex slapped Clay on the back.

“What do you care, anyway? You’ve got a little black book that resembles the Pac Bell yellow pages.”

Clay just grunted.

“You never minded sharing before.”

“Mind?”

Clay smiled tightly.

“I hope you taught her a few new tricks.”

“She makes love just like she dances, if you know what I mean.”

Flex winked and grinned.

Clay clamped his jaw.

“She isn’t sleeping with Jake, too, is she?”

Flex shook his head.

“Nah.

Jake thinks of her more like a daughter.

He’s a little over-protective, that’s all.”

“Right,”

Clay said peevishly.

“Besides, it appears he’d have to stand in line.”

“Just because the lady had enough sense to choose a handsome, debonair guy like me over a heartbreaker like you...”

Flex grinned again and nudged Clay in the ribs.

“Check you later.

I want to work Sparky on the lunge line.”

Sparky was Flex’s nickname for Sebastian.

Flex headed off toward the chestnut gelding’s stall, and Clay continued toward the ring to work Max.

He noticed Ellie wasn’t around.

I hope she’s hugging the commode, he thought. It would serve her right.