Iris Johansen

by The Ugly Duckling

  He stroked her hair. “I want only what’s best for you. You know how hard I work to make sure you and Jill have a good life. Just help me a little, Nell.”

  He was going to do it, she realized in despair. “I try to help you.”

  “And you do.” He pushed her away and looked down into her face. “But I’m going to need more from you.” A flicker of excitement lit his face. “Kavinski’s the key, Nell. I’ve been waiting for six years for an opening like this. It’s not only the money, it’s the power. There’s no telling how far I can go now.”

  “I’ll work harder. I’ll do everything you tell me to do. Just let me keep Jill.”

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He kissed her on the forehead and turned away. “Now I’d better get downstairs. Kavinski will be here any minute.”

  She stared numbly at the door after it closed behind him. They would talk tomorrow and he would be gentle and firm and a little sad that he couldn’t do what she wanted. He would make her feel guilty and helpless and, when they returned to Paris, he would buy her favorite yellow roses and take care of the interviewing of the nanny himself in order not to distress her.

  “Mama, my bathwater’s getting cold,” Jill said reprovingly. She stood barefoot in the doorway, wrapped in a huge pink towel.

  “Is it?” She swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. She would enjoy this precious time with Jill and try not to think of tomorrow. Maybe they wouldn’t get the Kavinski accounts. Perhaps Richard would change his mind. “Then I guess we’d better warm it up and get you in it.”

  “Yep.” Jill turned on her heel and vanished into the bathroom.

  “You look like a princess.” Jill rocked back and forth in her bed, hugging her knees.

  “Not likely.” Nell gently pushed her down on the pillows and pulled up the blanket. “Now, don’t try to stay awake. Take a nap and I’ll wake you when I bring our picnic. One of the maids will be right outside in the sitting room.” She teasingly ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Just in case you see any monsters.”

  “I did see him, Mama,” Jill said gravely.

  “Well, you won’t see him again.” She kissed her forehead. “I promise you.”

  She had reached the doorway when Jill called, “Remember the wine.”

  Nell chuckled as she shut the bedroom door. Jill would never suffer from either shyness or inability to assert herself.

  Her smile vanished as she passed the mirror in the hall. Only her daughter would see anything princesslike in her appearance. She was a little over five seven but definitely plump rather than Junoesque. Plump and boring and plain as grass. Her features were nondescript except for a nose that turned up instead of fading into the boring sameness as the rest of her face. Even her short brown hair was boring, the same pale acorn shade of Jill’s without childhood’s sheen. Plain.

  Well, Jill thought she was beautiful, and that was enough for her. Not that Richard didn’t think she was attractive. He had once told her she reminded him of a country quilt—enduring, traditional, and beautiful in its simplicity. She wrinkled her nose ruefully at her reflection before moving quickly toward the door. She didn’t know one woman in the world who wouldn’t rather be a glamorous silk sheet than a country quilt. But plain women had one advantage; no one ever noticed when they entered or left a room. She would have no trouble escaping the ballroom with Jill’s picnic supper.

  She stood at the top of the marble stairs, looking down at the crowded foyer.

  Music.

  The scent of flowers and expensive perfume.

  Laughter and conversation.

  Dear God, she didn’t want to go down there. The tall, carved doors leading to the ballroom were thrown wide open, and she could see Richard standing in a corner, talking to a tall, bearded man with a ribboned chest. Kavinski? Probably. Martin, Sally, and Nadine were also crowded around him, and Sally’s expression was almost fawning. Nell would be expected to meet Kavinski later, but she would only be in the way now.

  Her gaze searched the room, and she finally spotted Madame Gueray in the shadow of the French doors. Elise Gueray was fiftyish, thin, and trying desperately to blend into the white velvet drapes. Nell felt a swift rush of sympathy. She knew that frozen smile and hunted expression; she had seen it in her own mirror.

  She started down the stairs. Let Richard charm Kavinski and wheel and deal with everyone else in sight. Helping Richard by making that poor woman less miserable was much more to her taste.

  “Mon Dieu, the man should have a rose in his teeth,” Elise Gueray murmured.

  “What?” Nell put a lemon tart on the tray. She had promised Jill a chocolate eclair, but she couldn’t see any on the buffet table.

  “You know, like Monsieur Schwarzenegger in that movie where he played the spy who could do everything except fly?”

  She vaguely remembered the movie and huge Schwarzenegger tangoing with a rose in his teeth. “True Lies?”

  Elise shrugged. “I never remember titles, but Schwarzenegger is hard to forget.” She nodded at someone across the room. “And so is he. Do you know who he is?”

  Nell glanced over her shoulder. The man Elise was indicating did not have Schwarzenegger’s height or bulk, but she could see what Elise meant. Dark-haired, middle thirties, with a face more arresting than good-looking, he exuded total self-confidence. He would never be caught in a situation he could not control. No wonder Elise found him fascinating. For people like her and Nell, such assurance was as appealing as it was unattainable. “I’ve never seen him before. Perhaps he’s in Kavinski’s entourage.”

  Elise shook her head.

  She was right, Nell realized. This stranger would not travel in anyone’s wake.

  “Are you that hungry?” Elise’s gaze had shifted to Nell’s tray.

  Heat scorched her cheeks. “No, I thought I’d take a selection up to my daughter.”

  Elise looked stricken. “I did not mean—”

  “I know.” Nell made a face. “I don’t exactly look underfed.”

  “You look very nice,” Elise said gently. “I did not mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t.” She grinned. “It’s my predilection for chocolate cake that hurts me. It’s as comforting as a security blanket.”

  “And do you need comforting, my dear?”

  “Don’t we all?” she evaded, then said more firmly, “No, of course not. I have everything I could possibly want.” She added softly, “If you have time, I’d like you to meet my daughter tomorrow.”

  “I would enjoy that very much.”

  “Oh, there are the eclairs. She loves eclairs.” She added the pastry to the treasures on the tray before turning back to Elise. “Will you excuse me? I’d like to take these up to Jill. I told her to take a nap, but she’s probably still awake.”

  “Certainly. I’ve taken too much of your time. You’ve been very kind.”

  “Nonsense. I’ve enjoyed it. I should be the one to thank you.” It was the truth. Once her shyness was dispersed, Elise Gueray revealed herself to possess both humor and wit. She had made the past few hours pass pleasantly enough. Nell picked up the tray. “If I don’t see you later this evening, I’ll call you after breakfast tomorrow.”

  Elise nodded, her gaze going to her husband across the room. “I doubt if I’ll be here when you return. Henri will be ready to leave soon. He only thought it important he meet Kavinski.”

  Nell edged around the crowd, her brow creased in a frown of concentration as she balanced the heavy tray.

  The wine.

  She stopped short outside the ballroom doors.

  Oh, why not? A few sips wouldn’t hurt Jill; Europeans fed it to their babies all the time. She wanted Jill to be happy tonight. Who knew how many more opportunities they’d get to just be together?

  She ducked back inside the ballroom. Champagne. Even better. As she grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, the tray she was balancing in her other hand wobbled.

  The tray was
taken from her. “May I help you?”

  Arnold Schwarzenegger. No, at closer range he resembled no one but himself. Very high-impact. That confidence was overpowering and she instinctively wanted to escape it. She pulled her gaze away from his. “No, thank you.”

  She tried to take the tray, but he held it out of her reach. “I insist. It’s no trouble.” He strolled out of the ballroom and she was forced to hurry after him. “Where is this assignation to take place?”

  “Assignation?”

  He glanced down at the tray. “He must have a hearty appetite.”

  She felt the heat sting her cheeks. Twenty-eight years old and she was blushing. She muttered, “It’s a treat for my daughter.”

  He smiled. “Then I assume the assignation is still to take place in a bedroom, and you’ll never make it up the steps with the champagne and the tray.” He moved across the foyer and started up the staircase. “I’m Nicholas Tanek, and you are …?”

  “Nell Calder.” She found herself running after him. “But I don’t need help. If you’ll give me—”

  “Calder? Richard Calder’s wife?”

  He was surprised. They were always surprised Richard had chosen her. “Yes.”

  “Well, he appears too busy to help you. Permit me to substitute.”

  He was clearly not going to be dissuaded. She might as well let him have his way. It would be the quickest way to rid herself of him. She followed him up the steps and found herself watching the smooth flexing of his shoulders and buttocks. Both were sleekly muscled and extremely admirable.

  “How old is your daughter?”

  Her gaze guiltily flew upward, but he was still looking straight ahead, she realized with relief. “Jill’s almost five. Do you have children, Mr. Tanek?”

  He shook his head. “Which way?”

  “Right.”

  He asked, “Are you with Continental Trust too?”

  “No.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Nothing. I mean—I take care of my daughter.” When he didn’t comment, she found herself continuing on. “I have quite a few social duties.”

  “I’m sure you’re very busy.”

  But not like the women in his world. She was sure they were all sleek and gifted and as confident as he.

  “You’re American?”

  She nodded. “I was raised in Raleigh, North Carolina.”

  “That’s a university town, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, my parents taught at Greenbriar University just outside Raleigh. My father was president of the college.”

  “It sounds like a very … secure life.”

  He meant boring. She bristled. “I enjoy small towns.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder. “But, of course, it can’t compare to the life you lead now. I’m told Continental Trust’s European headquarters is in Paris.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “And it must be pleasant being able to visit places like this. Luxuries can be very important.”

  “Can they?”

  “I was speaking to your husband earlier in the evening. I’d judge permanent life in a palace would suit him very well indeed.”

  “He works hard to earn any luxuries we enjoy.” His idle probing was beginning to annoy her. He couldn’t really be interested in either Richard or her. She changed the subject. “Are you in banking, Mr. Tanek?”

  “No, I’m retired.”

  She stared at him, puzzled. “Really? You’re very young.”

  He chuckled. “I had enough money and decided not to wait for a retirement party and a gold watch. I now own a ranch in Idaho.”

  He had surprised her again. She would never have thought he was the type to wander far from the urban life. “You don’t seem—”

  “I like the solitude. I grew up in Hong Kong, surrounded by people. When I was in a position to choose, I opted for wilderness.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”

  “No problem. I have nothing to hide.”

  She would wager he had a great deal to hide, she thought suddenly. He was a man who buried everything beneath that smooth surface. “From what business did you retire?”

  “I dealt in commodities.” He asked, “Which door?”

  “Oh, the last one on the left.”

  He moved swiftly down the corridor and stopped before the suite.

  “Thank you. It wasn’t necessary, but I—”

  He had opened the door and was striding in, she realized in astonishment.

  The Greek maid hurriedly sat upright in the chair.

  “That will be all,” Nicholas Tanek said in Greek. “We’ll call you when we need you.”

  The maid walked out of the suite and closed the door.

  Nell stared at him, stunned.

  Tanek smiled. “Don’t be alarmed. My intentions are above reproach.” He winked. “Well, unless you call avoiding a very boring party reproachful. I saw you bolting out the door and I needed an excuse to get away for a while.”

  “Mama, did you bring—”Jill stood in the doorway, her gaze on Tanek. “Who are you?”

  He bowed. “Nicholas Tanek. You’re Jill?”

  She nodded warily.

  “Then this is for you.” He presented the tray with a flourish. “Mead and ambrosia.”

  “I wanted eclairs.”

  “I believe we have those too.” He swept toward her. “Where will we dine?”

  Jill studied him for a moment and then capitulated. “Mama and I are going to have a picnic. I put a blanket on the floor.”

  “Excellent idea. You’re obviously ahead of us.” He started setting the paper plates down on the blanket. He said over his shoulder, “You forgot the napkins. We’ll have to improvise.” He disappeared into the bathroom and returned a minute later with a pile of tissues and two embroidered hand towels. “May I, madam?” He draped the hand towel around Jill’s neck and tied it in the back.

  Jill giggled.

  Nell felt a ripple of resentment as she saw that Jill was enjoying the novelty of attention from a stranger. This was supposed to be her time with her daughter and he was spoiling everything.

  “Thank you for helping me with the tray, Mr. Tanek,” Nell said formally. “I know you want to get back to the party.”

  “Do I?” He turned to her, and the smile faded from his lips as he searched her face. He nodded slowly. “Yes, perhaps I should return.” He bowed to Jill. “But I’ll wait to take back your tray, madam.”

  “Don’t bother,” Nell said. “The maid can get it in the morning.”

  “I insist. I’ll wait in the sitting room. Call me when you’re ready.” He strode out of the bedroom.

  “Who is he?” Jill whispered, her gaze on the half-open door.

  “Just a guest.” She was surprised that Tanek had given up so easily. Well, he had not given up entirely. It was clear he didn’t want to return downstairs and was using the suite as a haven. Whom was he avoiding? A woman, probably. He was the kind of man who would have women chasing him. Well, she didn’t care as long as he stayed out of the way and didn’t bother them.

  “I like him,” Jill said.

  Nell didn’t doubt it. Tanek had made sure Jill felt like an empress in those short minutes.

  Then Jill’s gaze fastened eagerly on the crystal goblet, and she instantly forgot about Tanek. “Wine?”

  “Champagne.” Nell dropped to the floor and crossed her legs. “As you commanded.”

  Jill’s radiant smile lit her face. “You brought it.”

  “It’s a party.” She handed her the glass. “One sip.”

  Jill took a huge swallow and then made a face. “Sour. But it’s kind of warm and bubbly going down.” She lifted the glass again. “Jean Marc says that—”

  Nell snatched the glass from her. “Enough.”

  “Okay.” Jill reached for the eclair. “But if it’s a party, we should have music.”

  “Right.” Nell crawled over to the nightstand, reached for the music
box, and wound it. She set it down on the blanket, and they watched the two panda bears spinning slowly on the lid. “Much better than the orchestra downstairs.”

  Jill inched closer, lifted Nell’s arm, and fitted herself beneath it. As she munched on the eclair, pastry flakes fell on Nell’s blue lace gown, and Nell knew that before Jill was through, chocolate icing would be all over both of them.

  She didn’t care. To hell with the gown. Her arm tightened around her daughter’s small, warm body. Moments like this were rare and precious.

  And might become even rarer.

  No, she couldn’t let them do it. Richard was wrong and she must convince him that Jill needed her.

  But what if she couldn’t convince him?

  Then she would have to fight him. She felt panic and despair rise at the thought. Richard always made her feel as if she were being both unreasonable and cruel when she disagreed with him. He was so certain of everything and she wasn’t sure of anything.

  Except that it was wrong to make her give up her daughter to a faceless stranger.

  “You’re squeezing me too tight,” Jill said.

  She loosened her hold but kept Jill close. “Sorry.”

  “S’okay.” Her mouth full of pastry, she rubbed against Nell forgivingly. “Didn’t hurt.”

  She had no choice. She would find the strength somewhere. She must fight Richard.

  He had come for nothing, Nicholas thought in disgust as he gazed down at the surf crashing on the rocks below. No one would want to kill Nell Calder. She was no more likely to be connected with Gardeaux than that big-eyed elf she was now lavishing with French pastry and adoration.

  If there was a target here, it was probably Kavinski. As head of an emerging Russian state, he had the power to be either a cash cow or extremely troublesome to Gardeaux. Nell Calder wouldn’t be considered troublesome to anyone. He had known the answers to all the questions he had asked her, but he had wanted to see her reactions. He had been watching her all evening, and it was clear she was a nice, shy woman, totally out of her depth even with those fairly innocuous sharks downstairs. He couldn’t imagine her having enough influence to warrant bribery, and she would never have been able to deal one on one with Gardeaux.