For the Love of You

by Donna Hill

  Craig turned and got a quick I told you so look from Anthony. He ignored it.

  The trio rounded the building and found themselves in a mini paradise.

  “You did good, Paul,” Craig said, slapping him heartily on the back.

  “Thanks, boss. Ron was the one that actually found it,” Paul said of his assistant.

  Craig pressed his lips together and nodded. What he appreciated about his staff was that they never hesitated to spread their support and share the credit. He set the clipboard down on a circular white metal table that was shaded by a huge umbrella. There was a half cup of tea on the table and a newspaper that had fallen to the ground. He reached down, picked it up and placed it back on the table. He turned at the sound of a door opening behind him.

  The woman didn’t simply walk through the door. She swept in like a character from a novel. Every nerve in Craig’s body vibrated. Like the filmmaker that he was, he cataloged every inch of her, from the riotous swirl of cinnamon curls that seemed to want to break free from the knot on the top of her head to the high cheeks, wide expressive honey-toned eyes, sleek arching brows and full pouty lips all set on a flawless canvas of nut brown. The loosely flowing sundress that bared her shoulder and reached her ankles did nothing to camouflage the curves beneath.

  Jewel stopped in front of him. “Mr. Lawson?”

  “Yes. And you must be Ms. Fontaine.” He extended his hand.

  Jewel placed her hand in his, and Craig felt the heat of their contact race straight to his groin. He shifted his stance slightly and cleared his throat to give himself a moment to recover.

  “Thanks for seeing me.”

  “You didn’t give me much choice, Mr. Lawson.”

  “You’re right. I realize you were expecting me—us—tomorrow, but I wanted to see the estate for myself and meet you as soon as possible. I hope we can talk for a few minutes, go over the details and work out the schedule.”

  Jewel lifted her chin ever so slightly, a move that Craig had seen his sister use whenever she was ready to do battle. He reflexively clenched his jaw. Craig glanced over his shoulder and angled his body. “Ms. Fontaine, this is my business partner and a producer of the film, Anthony Maxwell.”

  Anthony stepped in between the standoff and extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Fontaine. Your home is better than any pictures.”

  She offered up a hint of a smile. “Thank you.” She turned her attention to Craig, and he felt her stare right in his center. “We need to talk, Mr. Lawson.”

  His radar went on full alert, and every instinct told him that this was not going to go well. “Of course.”

  Jewel stepped down off the back porch and walked toward the brook that ran behind the house. Craig fell in step next to her and wondered what that incredible scent was that floated around her.

  “Mr. Lawson—” She stopped and turned to him, and he was hit in the chest again by the depth of her eyes. “I don’t know how to say this, but—” She paused, looked at the water and then at him. “I’m going to have to back out of this arrangement.”

  He’d expected a discussion about more money, no Mondays or eating in the kitchen, or whatever other quirky thing homeowners wanted when they rented out their property, but not this.

  Craig bent his head toward her in an almost combative move. “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve changed my mind. This may be a great opportunity, but it will be too disruptive and... I can’t allow this.” She folded her arms beneath the swell of her breasts. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  Craig was totally thrown. It took him a minute to process what she was saying. Months of work would go down the drain; the time it would take to find a new location would cost thousands and set the production schedule back by any number of days, possibly weeks. As the scenario played in his head, his level of pissed off rose. He’d never been one to take no for an answer, and now wasn’t the time to get started.

  “Listen—” He reached out to touch her, and the instant his fingertips touched her bare arm he knew it was a major mistake. What felt like electricity brushed across his skin. “I, uh, totally get it that having a film crew in your home is a pretty big imposition.” He gave her his best Oscar-winning smile, coated with Nawlins drawl. He held up his hands. “I promise you we will totally respect your home. Whatever rules you set down...that’s what it will be.”

  He watched the pink tip of her tongue peek out and stroke her bottom lip. He swallowed.

  “It’s much more complicated than that, Mr. Lawson,” she said softly, the hard stance that she’d taken earlier seeming to ease somewhat. “I deeply apologize for any inconvenience—”

  “If it’s about money, we can work that out. It’s a big imposition, and you should be compensated accordingly.”

  “What makes you think I need or want your money!” Her hands dropped to her sides, and her fingers curled into her palms.

  The 360 in her tone and body was so sudden, Craig actually took a step back. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you did,” he said, keeping his voice low and even in the hope of rescuing this rapidly sinking ship. “I’d really like to talk this out. I’m sure we can do whatever it is that you need to be comfortable.”

  Jewel slowly shook her head. Her lids fluttered rapidly, and her nostrils flared even as she turned her lips inward and tightened them.

  Craig took a cautious step closer. There were two things he was really good at: finding movieworthy material and noting the warning signs in a woman’s face. This woman was on the verge of tears, and he was pretty sure that it had nothing to do with the film, at least not directly.

  “I’m sorry,” she managed and stuck out her hand.

  Craig’s gaze ran over her face, but she wouldn’t look directly at him. He took her hand and slowly let his fingers envelop hers. “Thank you, Ms. Fontaine. I’m sorry that things didn’t work out. If you change your mind, you have the number.”

  She bobbed her head, and he released her hand, turned and headed back to where he’d left Anthony.

  “Let’s go,” he snapped, storming past Anthony.

  Anthony double-timed it to catch up. “Yo, what happened?”

  Craig slid on his shades. “We’ll talk back at the hotel and Paul can start looking for a new job.”

  * * *

  By the time the crew returned—very subdued—to the hotel, Craig’s ire had diminished by a fraction. At least he’d stopped cussing and tossing death stares at his crew.

  “Look,” Anthony said, pulling Craig off to the side once they’d entered the suite, “go easy. We’ve been in tighter situations. We have some alternate locations on tap. We’ll find the right venue and keep it moving. Every one of us has screwed up at some point,” he added with a knowing look.

  Craig grunted. “Yeah. I know. It’s just when you feel something in your gut...” He let his words drift away and wondered if he meant the location or Jewel Fontaine. He clapped Anthony on the arm. “You’re right. We’ll work it out.” He slung his hands into his pants pockets and turned to the crew, whose gazes were glued to the floor.

  “Okay, look...it appears that we’re not going to be able to use the Fontaine location for the shoot. For whatever reason, the lady of the house has changed her mind.” He tossed a look in Paul’s direction.

  Paul shifted his weight and looked appropriately contrite.

  “Mr. Lawson...”

  Craig turned his attention toward Diane Fisher, one of the assistant location scouts. “Yes?”

  She cleared her throat, glanced briefly at Paul then focused on Craig. She lifted her dimpled chin. “It wasn’t Paul’s fault. He gave me my first assignment. I should have had her sign the contract.” She swallowed. “I didn’t. I guess I was a little starstruck when I realized who she was. I’m sorry. But this isn’t Paul’s fault.”


  Craig held back a smile. He admired loyalty among his friends and his working crew. It was clear to him, however, that there was just a little something more than work between Paul and Diane, which was cool as long as it didn’t interfere with the job. He’d give them both a pass on this one.

  “Thank you for telling me that, Diane. You’ll know for next time.”

  The wave of relief in the room was palpable. There would be a next time instead of a goodbye.

  “In the meantime I want Paul and Diane to get busy with the secondary locations. We can’t afford to have this project fall behind schedule.” He paused. “Thanks, y’all.” He tugged in a breath and exhaled. “I know how hard you work, and you’re some of the best in the business. I don’t say it much, but I appreciate each of you.” He turned and walked into his adjoining room, totally missing the look of outright shock on the faces of his crew.

  * * *

  Craig closed the door to his room and crossed the plush carpeted floor to the minibar. He poured himself a shot of bourbon on the rocks. He took a deep, satisfying swallow and allowed the smooth liquor to seep into his veins, warming them before he went to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. His eyes cinched at the corners while he rocked his jaw from side to side and looked out on the city that he’d once called home. Had anyone asked him a year ago if he would ever return, he would have said, “Hell, no.” But here he was, back home, doing the very thing that had sent him away in the first place. He snorted a laugh at the irony of it all. The prodigal son had returned. By now his father would know that he was back. Why did it still matter?

  He turned away from the past, crossed back to the bar and refilled his shot glass. Jake Lawson had been very clear when Craig announced that he was uninterested in learning about, participating in or ultimately running his father’s global real estate firm. As far as Jake Lawson was concerned, Craig was on his own, cut off from the family.

  It had been ten years, and though he would never admit it, even with all the success he’d attained since he’d left, what he missed was his father and his blessing on all that he’d accomplished. What hurt him the most was not understanding his father’s near irrational disdain for Craig’s chosen profession. Growing up, Jake had instilled in each of his children the belief that they could achieve anything that they wanted in this world—apparently as long as it was what Jake Lawson wanted his children to achieve.

  Wallowing in self-pity and reflection was never Craig’s MO, and he didn’t plan to start now. What he needed to concentrate on was getting his movie filmed and produced. His work was what was important. It was his validation. Nothing else mattered.

  His thoughts shifted to his meeting with Jewel Fontaine. She’d flat-out told him no. No was a word that never sat well with him. If he didn’t take it from his father, he wouldn’t take it from her, either. Everyone could be persuaded. Everyone had a button that could be pushed. He simply had to discover what her yes button was.

  He tossed back the rest of his drink, a plan formulating in his head. He smiled. Tomorrow was another day. He might have lost the first battle, but the fight was far from over.

  * * *

  The house was blissfully quiet. Jewel walked out onto the back veranda and sat on a cushioned lounge chair. She placed her cup of tea on the table beside her and tucked her feet beneath her. The sound of cicadas peppered the night, and the scent of lavender from her garden helped to soothe her unsettled soul. Her nerves were still on edge, a combination of the unannounced visit by Craig Lawson and her father’s latest episode. It was hard to distinguish which event had the greater effect on her. Meeting Craig Lawson had had a visceral impact. She felt as if every sense, every nerve was suddenly jolted awake when they met eye to eye and he took her hand. It still seemed to tingle. But that was silly. It was no more than her overwrought emotions at work.

  Then there was her father. Her heart ached as if it had been pounded and abused then shoved back into her chest. Watching the man that she loved, admired and worshipped slowly disappear was, on some days, more than she could manage. Today was one of those days.

  Jewel got up from the lounge chair and walked over to the railing that embraced the veranda. She gazed out on the star-filled night. If only she could cast a wish upon a star. She would wish that she had her career back. She would wish that she had her father back, and she would wish that Craig Lawson had never entered her life to remind her of what she’d left behind.

  The choices and sacrifices she’d had to make over the past few years had begun to pile upon her soul, weighing it down, an anchor determined to tug her into the depths of no return.

  Her stomach twisted with resentment and the guilt of it. She had no right to feel those emotions. But she did. She begrudged the world that had turned its back on her. She cursed fate that had leveled its will upon her father and locked them both in a spinning cycle of decline.

  She sighed heavily and searched out the heavens for a star. If only it were that easy. In another six months, she would lose the home she’d grown up in. She’d lose the ability to take care of her father. Opportunity had knocked today—literally—and yet she couldn’t let it in. What was she going to do?

  Chapter 2

  Jewel had spent a sleepless night tossing and turning as dozens of unattainable scenarios played in a loop inside her head. Finally giving up on sleep, she rose with the sun, checked on her father to find him comfortably sleeping, and then puttered around in the kitchen, determined to find a solution to her untenable situation.

  Making something always seemed to help clear her thoughts. Had it been at an earlier phase of her life, she would have been found in her studio, sculpting her next piece of art or creating her next abstract on canvas. She couldn’t remember when she’d last molded a piece of clay or chiseled granite or stroked vibrant colors with a paintbrush. Instead her hands and her mind realigned themselves and found a new purpose in baking. The same artistry that she’d used in her work transferred itself to create unique and sumptuous cakes, pies, cookies and muffins. She sold some of her confections to a local baker from time to time and had even prepared one-of-a-kind wedding cakes. Minerva, her father’s home attendant and Jewel’s pseudoconfidante, had for the past year been encouraging her to pursue her baking—take it to the next level, build a business, she’d said. But Jewel couldn’t. She was an artist—at one time a renowned artist who traveled the world and held standing-room-only launches in galleries here in the States and abroad. Baking was a poor second cousin, an outlet for her idle hands and nothing more.

  Today felt like a blueberry muffin day, she reasoned, and while the house remained under the blanket of slumber, Jewel created her other brand of magic.

  By the time the sun was in full bloom, Jewel’s kitchen was filled with the warmth and aroma of a high-end bakery. She eased the tray from the oven and placed it on the counter to cool then prepared a pot of chamomile tea. With her cup of tea, she took and a plate with a muffin and homemade jam to the veranda and picked up the newspaper en route.

  Nestled in her favorite spot, she opened the paper and was hit in the center of her being by the virile image of Craig Lawson, whose face graced the cover with the caption New Orleans Prodigal Son Returns.

  The two-page article went on to talk about his meteoric rise in the movie industry and of course the iconic Lawson family, of which he was a part. It hinted at a rift between father and son, but the details were sketchy, giving way to more questions than answers. The one steady theme was that his return and the ensuing project would bring business to the city, as the article indicated that Lawson was a staunch supporter of employing local talent for his projects.

  “A regular saint,” Jewel murmured around a mouthful of muffin. She washed it down with a healthy swallow of tea.

  She gazed off into the distance. Craig Lawson. He was like many of the stars that peppered hi
s films—larger than life. There was a magnetic pull about him, a swagger and self-assurance that was nearly impossible to resist. She’d felt it when they faced each other, when he clasped her hand in his. She’d felt herself become trapped in the undertow of his dark eyes, and it had taken all that she had to pull herself free. But at what cost?

  “There you are.”

  Jewel glanced up and over her shoulder and smiled. “Good morning.”

  “I see you’ve been busy.” Minerva stepped fully onto the veranda.

  “A little.” She laughed, but then her expression turned somber. “How’s Dad?”

  “Resting. I’m going to get him his breakfast shortly. I know he’ll be happy to get one of your famous muffins to go with it.”

  “Hmm.” She lowered her gaze.

  Minerva sat down next to Jewel and placed a comforting hand on her knee. “There are going to be bad days,” she said softly. “You can’t let it overwhelm you. And...as hard as it is for us to accept, there will be more bad days than good.”

  Jewel dragged in a breath. “I know,” she whispered. She turned to Minerva. “I’m scared, Minny.”

  “Of course you are. But it’s going to be all right. It will. What you have to do is remember that and be the strong woman that he raised you to be. That’s what he needs now.”

  Jewel slowly shook her head. “I don’t know if I can. We’re going broke, and fast. How will I take care of him, this house—you?”

  Minerva frowned. “I thought you were going to let them do the film. They were willing to pay a pretty big sum, from what I remember you telling me.”

  “I turned them down.”

  “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “After yesterday’s episode with Dad, I realized that it would be too much for him, too much disturbance. I couldn’t risk that.”

  Minerva was pensive for a moment. “It that the real reason?”

  “What do you mean? Of course it is. What other reason could I have?”