Nine Lives

by Danielle Steel

  “I don’t want to see you get killed.”

  “I won’t. Nine lives, remember?” He said it like a true gambler. They always thought they would win, or they wouldn’t take the risk.

  “If that were true, my father and brother would still be alive,” she said soberly. “I wish Brad had had just two lives.”

  “Fate plays a part in it too,” he said gently. “I’m a good driver. I won’t get killed.”

  “I hope not, for you.”

  “There’s no one it will matter to, if I do. I’ve kept it that way, so I can do what I want.”

  “It would matter to me, now that we’ve found each other again. Even as a friend, I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t,” he said with certainty. He didn’t want to lose her again.

  They talked until ten o’clock, and then he drove her back to her hotel. On the way, he stopped at the casino and asked her if she wanted to go in. She looked shocked.

  “Like this?” She was wearing white jeans and a white sweater and sneakers. “Will they let us in?”

  “They’d let me in naked with a rose in my teeth. I spend a lot of time here,” and a lot of money. He loved to play blackjack and it evened out for him. He won and he lost, in large amounts, as she had seen the night before.

  She followed him into the casino, and much to her amazement, no one complained about the way they were dressed, although she knew there was a dress code. He took a seat at the blackjack table and pointed to the seat next to him. She slid onto it and watched him play. He appeared casual and relaxed, and bought a stack of expensive chips. He lost them quickly and then made a big win. He bet all of it, doubled it, and then lost it all, and stood up with a smile. He looked at Maggie. “The table’s cold. Time to go home.” She had a feeling that he had just lost and won thousands of dollars, and broke even in the end.

  He walked her into her hotel. “I had a great day,” he said happily.

  “Me too,” she said, smiling at him.

  “I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning.”

  “Thanks for letting me hitch a ride,” she said, and he left a minute later. It was nice being with him, and odd too. It was a flashback in time, with the benefit of everything she’d learned since. She wasn’t sure how much Paul had learned. He was still risking everything, at the blackjack table, on the racetrack, and in life. She wasn’t willing to do that. Her mother’s words had stuck with her, no matter how appealing he was. But it would be fun seeing him in London. Now she had a friend to have dinner with.

  She packed her bags, and got ready for the trip, and then lay in bed thinking about the day on Paul’s boat. It had been fabulous. She wanted to call Helen, but didn’t feel comfortable telling her, she might make too much of it. Aden didn’t need to know either, that she had run into her first love. So for now Paul was her secret, just as he had been before, when her mother forbade her to go out with him, and she had anyway. She reminded herself as she fell asleep that men like him were a dangerous secret to have. Maybe even as friends. But she knew she was smart enough not to fall in love with him again. He was a wild one, just as her mother had said. But there was no reason why they couldn’t be friends. And there was no one to stop them. They were grown-ups this time. Or at least Maggie was. Paul was never going to grow up, but he made her feel like a kid again. Seeing him was like a trip back in time to a very sweet place she had almost forgotten, and remembered now, like a warm summer breeze from the past.

  Chapter 7

  Paul picked Maggie up right on time the next morning. She had checked out by then, and her bags were waiting in the lobby when he arrived at eight a.m. and put her suitcases in the Lamborghini.

  “I was worried you might have more luggage.” He grinned at her and she laughed. The trunk was very small, and her suitcases just fit in it.

  “I’m traveling light this trip. I didn’t think I’d be doing anything fancy.” She had decided to buy a dress in London for dinner with him that night. He had already seen the only proper dress she had. The rest was all jeans and slacks, sweaters, and a peacoat in case it got chilly. She hadn’t planned to dress up.

  Having seen the Lady Luck, Maggie was not surprised when she saw his plane, which was a sleek G5 jet, luxuriously appointed inside in beige cashmere and leather. It was supremely comfortable. This was not the way she had expected to travel, but it was undeniably pleasant.

  “I feel very spoiled,” she said, as a stewardess served them breakfast after takeoff.

  “My tax shelters allow me to lead a good life. I have a complicated corporate setup. It’s all legal, but it protects me from the IRS. And I discovered a long time ago that I like living well. I have no one to be responsible for, or to, so I can spend it however I want. The first thing I did when I made real money, in a killing I made in commodities,” he said. He wasn’t afraid of high-risk investments either, and they had done well for him. “The first thing I did was buy my mother a decent house, instead of that shit shack she lived in. My father never sent her a penny. She thought she had died and gone to heaven. She died a year later, but she spent her last year in a beautiful home. It was the least I could do for her.” He had a huge heart, and was very generous, even when he had nothing. Maggie had forgotten that about him, but remembered it now. The story about his mother touched her, and confirmed her faith in him as a person.

  They talked about other things for the rest of the flight. He was intelligent and well informed and good company. As soon as they landed, he started making calls. He didn’t have time to talk to her on the way into the city. He dropped her off at her hotel with a wave, and she checked in and got a cozy, very English room with flowered chintz and an old-fashioned mirrored dressing table. She wanted to call Aden that afternoon. She hadn’t spoken to him in a few days, and he hadn’t called her either. She didn’t want to hound him. She knew he was busy.

  She took care of her shopping needs first. She went to Harrods and bought a chic black dress and a pair of high heels. Then she did a little shopping for Aden, so she’d have something to bring him from the trip. She bought him a navy blue cashmere sweater and a warm black scarf. She bought a red wool scarf for Helen too. It would be freezing in Lake Forest soon.

  After Harrods, she went to the Tate Britain and spent several hours there. She had her driver take her past Buckingham Palace, and it gave her a thrill when she saw the royal standard flying, which meant that the queen was in residence.

  She went to the Tower of London, and saw a fabulous exhibit of the Queen’s jewels, and to Westminster after that. She was saving the Victoria and Albert Museum for the next day. And she had a proper English tea at her hotel when she got back. She called Aden and caught him between classes. She got Helen while she was on the way to pick up her youngest son at school.

  Aden told her about ice hockey practice, and she asked about his classes. He seemed to like his professors, and he told her how much he liked Boston. There were so many colleges in the area that it was a city full of young people. He had met lots of students from other schools too. They didn’t talk long, but he sounded good to her. She could always tell if he had a problem, but he didn’t seem to at the moment. Helen asked her a million questions about Paris and Monte Carlo. She wanted to know everything. Maggie didn’t want to tell her about Paul Gilmore and had promised herself not to. It would make it seem too important when it was just a chance meeting with an old friend. Helen would try to make more of it than it was.

  “Why Monte Carlo?” Helen was surprised at that and had never been there on any of her trips.

  “I saw a brochure for it at the Ritz, and it looked like fun. It was. I went to the casino, played the slot machines for ten minutes, and won a hundred euros.”

  “You went to the casino alone?” Helen was surprised, and then Maggie decided not to lie to her and make a clean breast of it. She had nothing to feel guilty ab
out, but she felt awkward anyway.

  “Actually, I ran into an old friend from high school I hadn’t seen since we graduated.”

  “How fun. What’s she like?”

  “It’s not a she, it’s a he. He’s just an old friend, but it was nice to see him.” Maggie sounded casual about it.

  “Bingo!” Helen said, sounding triumphant. “That’s exactly how it works. Most people our age who remarry run into an old friend from college, or a high school sweetheart, and they reconnect. Usually online, like on Facebook. That’s perfect.” It was exactly the reaction Maggie had expected and wanted to avoid.

  “I’m not looking for a husband, and I don’t want to remarry,” Maggie reminded her.

  “What does he do?”

  “He’s a race car driver.”

  “That sounds glamorous.”

  “Until he gets killed,” Maggie said and meant it. “He raced motorcycles when we were in high school. He upgraded after that. My mother warned me to stay away from him then, and she was right.”

  “Is he a nice guy?”

  “Very, but it is what it is.”

  “Is he single?”

  “Yes.” This was precisely why Maggie hadn’t wanted to tell her. She knew Helen would make too much of it and decide it was kismet or fate or something. Running into him in Monaco was just a coincidence, and she was telling herself that too. Once she went home, she would probably never hear from him again. She didn’t think the ski trip he was offering was real either. It was still three months away, and something else would come up by then. Another girl or a business deal or a race or some death-defying challenge.

  “Why don’t you want to go out with him?” Helen sounded puzzled.

  “Because my mother was right. Men who’re in love with danger and high-risk pursuits are heartbreakers.”

  “Maybe he’d give it up for you. He can’t drive race cars forever.”

  “Guys like him just find other ways to kill themselves. Believe me, I know the breed.” But she had bought a dress to wear for dinner with him, and it was a sexy one, so she wasn’t sure she trusted herself either. Men like Paul were so hard to resist. They were appealing in so many ways.

  Helen said she couldn’t wait for Maggie to come home and tell her all about the trip.

  “I can’t wait to see you too. I still have another week here. Actually, he brought me here. He let me hitch a ride with him.”

  “He drove you there?” Helen was impressed by that.

  “No, he gave me a ride on his plane.”

  “He has a plane?” Helen was even more impressed.

  “He has a lot of things. When I knew him he was dirt poor. He’s done well in thirty years.”

  “It sounds like it. I think you need to reconsider.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m not looking for a guy with money.” She didn’t need to. She had her own, but she didn’t want to tell Helen that. She was still uncomfortable about it. “If I were interested, I’d want some simple, normal guy like Brad, but I’m not. I probably won’t see this one again for another thirty years.”

  “You will if you want to. He sounds interesting.”

  “Why? Because he has a plane?” That annoyed Maggie. It sounded so greedy to her, and she hated women who hit on rich men for whatever they could get. She was in that situation now herself, as a potential target, but at least no one knew about the money. They had kept it confidential for exactly that reason.

  “He’s interesting because he’s obviously been successful, and that’s always attractive,” Helen said matter-of-factly. “Clearly he’s a smart guy.”

  “He acts just like he did when we were kids. It’s kind of refreshing. We knew each other so well, we don’t need to impress each other.”

  “Were you in love with him then?”

  “Yes. Then. Not now.” She hoped that would stay true. After this week they’d be thousands of miles apart anyway. He’d forget her. She was sure of it, and the ski trip he was pushing her about would probably never happen. She didn’t want to make any commitment to him. She didn’t want a man in her life. She was certain of it.

  “Well, keep me posted. You’ve certainly had an exciting trip.”

  “I can see why you love Europe and want to spend a year living here,” Maggie said wistfully.

  “Jeff would never do it. He wants to stay in the States, doing the same things forever. I’ll never get him out of here. Maybe you and I should go on a trip,” Helen suggested, and it sounded like a good idea to Maggie.

  “I’d love it, if you can get away.” That was the problem. Her married friends never could. But the trip on her own had gone well and had proved to her that she could do it and even enjoy it. She wanted to go on another trip in the new year. Maybe with her son, if he was willing.

  * * *

  —

  She showered and changed after that, and she was satisfied when she looked in the mirror. She had found a little evening purse too, and she put on the heels she had bought at Harrods.

  She was ready when Paul arrived at the hotel. He called her room and she came downstairs to meet him. He took her to Harry’s Bar, a club he belonged to, famous for its fine Italian cuisine. She loved the food and the jet-set atmosphere. All the men were extremely well dressed, in beautifully tailored suits, and the women were wearing designer cocktail dresses, many of them with a lot of glitter. It was a chic crowd, and Maggie hoped that the dress she’d bought was nice enough. Paul smiled when he saw her.

  “I love the dress!” he complimented her. “Did you just buy it?”

  She nodded.

  “Today. Just for you,” she added, and then was sorry she said it. She didn’t want him to think she was interested or pursuing him. She wasn’t, but he was so good-looking and the setting was so romantic that she found herself flirting with him, and he appeared to be thoroughly enjoying it.

  He took her to Annabel’s afterwards to go dancing, and by the end of the evening, it felt like a date to both of them. She was relieved when he told her with regret that he had a commitment the following night that he couldn’t get out of, but he wanted to see her again the next day. She thought they both needed to cool off, but two days later, he looked like they had been apart for years when he saw her and said he had missed her. He took her to his apartment for a drink before taking her out to dinner. He had a fabulous penthouse apartment in Knightsbridge that was the ultimate bachelor pad, with every kind of comfort, a remarkable sound system, and some magnificent art. He collected Old Masters. Maggie said she had never seen such a beautiful place, and she meant it.

  “I don’t spend much time here,” he admitted, “but I enjoy it when I do.”

  He had three bedrooms in all, with beautiful furniture and art throughout the apartment. He said a decorator had helped him. In addition, he had a wood-paneled library, an enormous living room, a home office, a state-of-the-art kitchen, a dining room, and a small but perfect movie theater. Maggie loved the apartment. Everything he owned was elegant, luxurious, in great taste, and expensive. For an instant the memory of the dilapidated shack he had lived in crossed her mind. He had come a long, long way from there, but he was still simple and unpretentious. She admired him for it.

  “Whatever happened to the cute boy on the skateboard?”

  “I just bought a motorized one that goes thirty-five miles an hour,” he said sheepishly.

  “Let me guess,” she said cynically, “you don’t wear a helmet.”

  “How did you know?” He laughed guiltily.

  “I know you. You think a helmet would spoil all the fun. It would lower the risk factor.” She suddenly wished he wasn’t so crazy, and such a danger to himself. It made him unsuitable for any role in her life, even friendship. She didn’t need any more losses. One day Paul would miss the mark and lose the bet and something terrible would h
appen. It was inevitable. It made her sad thinking about it.

  He took her home that night and asked her to lunch the next day, but she had a museum tour set up, so he said he’d rearrange his dinner plans. She had no idea what they were doing, seeing each other every day. She had three days left in London, and she was flying back to Chicago on Sunday.

  She finally asked him about it the following night.

  “I don’t think it’s smart for us to see each other every day. Do you?”

  He looked disappointed.

  “Am I boring you?” He seemed crushed, and she laughed at the question.

  “No. I love seeing you. But then what? This is no more suitable for either of us than it was thirty years ago. You’re every bit as exciting and fun to be with as you were then, but you said yourself the risk factor in your life makes you ineligible for a serious relationship. I don’t want another heartbreak if something happens to you, and it will, sooner or later. So what are we doing? We’re tempting fate here.”

  “Maybe it could be different this time.”

  “I married an accountant so I wouldn’t have to deal with someone like you. I never forgot you either,” she said honestly, “but we’re not seventeen anymore. We know how the story ends. And I don’t want to wind up like my mother. You’re the role model for everything I was trying to avoid when I married Brad.”

  “You won’t wind up like your mother. You couldn’t. Let’s just slow down a little, and take a breather. I have to go to Switzerland for meetings tomorrow. Have dinner with me when I get back on Saturday, before you leave. I don’t want to lose you again, Maggie.”

  “I’m still mourning Brad. It hasn’t even been a year yet. I don’t want a relationship and I can’t afford another risk-taker in my life.” She had been saying it to him all week, but he didn’t want to hear it. She was relieved that she was going home. She agreed to see him on Saturday for her last night, for old times’ sake, but she promised herself that she wouldn’t fall for him again. It was all smoke and mirrors with him, with a keg of dynamite under the mirror, concealed by the smoke. He would blow them sky high if she let him, and her heart and life with it.