Scowling, Travis picked up a pen from the top of his desk, tapped it on the oak surface, then tossed it aside again. “Actually, yes, she was.”
“Well, then—you’re both getting exactly what she deserves,” the man blustered, a dismissive tone in his voice that sent a blast of protective fury whipping through Travis.
“Doucette tricked my wife,” he said, voice hard. Yeah, he wanted the distribution contract, but he’d be damned if he’d sit here and let someone who didn’t even know her insult Julie. “She’s done nothing wrong and I don’t appreciate your innuendo.”
“Now just one minute…”
“No, Henry,” Travis said, standing up as he allowed his anger to swell inside him. “You wait a minute. It’s true I want your company to distribute my wine, but I can live without it.” He didn’t want to. Hadn’t planned to. But he wasn’t going to sit back and let someone stomp on him, either.
It wouldn’t be easy to find a good distributor if this deal didn’t come through, but he’d find a way and damned if Travis King was going to kiss anyone’s ass just to move along the success train. “You know as well as I do that a deal with King wines would serve you as well as me.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“I could ask the same, Henry,” Travis said and shoved one hand into the pocket of his slacks. His voice was deep and dark and filled with the venom that was coursing through his veins. “I’m not some green kid just breaking in to the wine business. I’ve got one of the top wineries in California and you know it. King wines is growing every year. Now we can work together to build the name into something that will make us both a lot of money—” he paused, took a breath and tamped down the anger nearly choking him “—or you can utter one more insult toward my wife and I hang up and find a new distributor.”
For one split second, Travis wondered if he’d gone too far—if the other man was going to hang up and forget about King wineries. Then that moment passed and the other man spoke up again.
“You’re right,” Henry said thoughtfully. “And I admire a man who stands for his family. I’m willing to discuss the distribution deal. Let’s meet next week to talk it over.”
Success. It tasted bittersweet, but Travis could choke it down. When he hung up, Travis thought about going to tell Julie the good news. Then he reconsidered. After all, it wasn’t as if this was a real marriage.
Upstairs, Julie closed the door to the master bedroom, stepped over to the wide window that overlooked the acres of neatly tended grape vines. White, billowy clouds drifted like sails across a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at it. Sunlight slanted down on the vineyard and just for a moment, Julie took a breath and paused simply to enjoy the beauty of the scene.
But she hadn’t come upstairs to admire the King winery. She’d come for a little privacy. She wasn’t going to be a passive observer in her life anymore. It was time that Julie faced her past and did something about straightening out her future. Flipping open her cell phone, she dialed a number she’d tried to forget. Waiting impatiently as the phone rang, she tugged at the white sheers hanging alongside the window and almost jumped when a man’s voice came on the line.
“Hello?”
God, how she hated that voice.
“Jean Claude,” she said. “We have to talk.”
Eight
J ulie felt like a spy.
Any minute now, she half expected Travis to jump out from the shadows, point an accusing finger at her and shout Traitor!
“This was probably a bad idea,” she muttered and carried her hot cup of coffee to the scratched-up white guardrail at the edge of the lookout over the ocean. She hunched a little deeper into her dark blue windbreaker and turned her face into the wind, letting that icy breeze blow her hair back from her face.
She was alone on the wide, half moon of asphalt, her car the only one parked on the turnout some twenty miles north of the King winery. Highway 1 traveled up the length of California, going through tiny towns, and winding along the rugged coastline. Up and down the state there were wide pullouts just like this one, where tourists could stop, park the car and take photos of the incredible scenery.
Ordinarily, Julie would be just as caught up in the beauty of the place as anyone else. But today, all she saw were the gathering dark clouds on the horizon and the never ending stretch of steel-gray sea. It was as if the whole world were suddenly in black and white. And she knew that’s how Travis would see this little meeting of hers. Black and white.
Friend and enemy.
If he discovered that she’d come to meet Jean Claude of her own accord…“Oh, don’t even go there, Julie,” she told herself, backing away from that thought as she would have from a rabid dog.
She deliberately kept her face turned away from the highway and the forest. For all she knew, there might be reporters and photographers out there, aiming their telephoto lenses and parabolic microphones directly at her. Not that she was paranoid or anything, but over the last two weeks, she’d been dissected for public consumption almost every day.
Which is why she’d asked Jean Claude to meet her here. Even if it was a stupid maneuver, at least she felt as though she was doing something to try to stop all of this.
A car pulled up beside hers and Julie stiffened as she turned to watch Jean Claude park his spiffy, two-seater sports car. He climbed out lazily, a man completely at ease. His blond hair lifted from his forehead and Julie absently noted that it looked thinner than she remembered.
“New car?” she asked. A splashy one, too. Leave it to Jean Claude, to whom appearances meant more than anything else. He used to love talking about his grandfather, who had been a minor member of the aristocracy. No doubt, Jean Claude was just loving being the center of a media storm. Everyone wanted to talk to him. Tabloids and TV stations were willing to pay him to smile on camera and dish out dirt that made him look like a forgotten lover.
All he’d had to do was sell her out and make her and Travis’s lives a living hell. Julie’s insides twisted as she watched him shoot a loving glance at the sports car.
He trailed one finger along the shining red hood. “Yes, lovely little thing, isn’t it?”
Obviously, Jean Claude was enjoying the money he’d made both from the blackmail and the constant streams of interviews he’d given.
He walked toward her, a smile on the face she’d once thought so handsome. “Julie, ma chérie, what a delight it is to see you.”
She backed up, keeping a safe distance between them. She didn’t think she’d be able to stand it if he got close enough to touch her. How could she ever have convinced herself she loved this man enough to marry him? She was such an idiot.
He smiled again as if he knew what she was thinking. God, was she doing the right thing by setting up this meeting? Would this only make things worse? If Travis found out about this—
“Jean Claude—”
“This is very sexy, no?” He glanced around at the empty area, then shifted his gaze back to her. “Just the two of us. All alone.”
She only hoped they were alone and that there were no reporters or photographers hiding somewhere nearby.
“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “I mean, yes, we’re alone, but no, it’s not sexy.”
The wind whipped his blond hair back from his forehead, displaying a
lot more forehead than she remembered. Apparently being a full-time jerk caused premature balding. Small consolation.
“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “If you do not wish to enjoy a clandestine tryst, why did you want to meet?”
“A tryst?” Her mouth dropped open. “Are you insane?”
“Do you not remember how it once was between us, chérie? ” His voice was low, and what he no doubt considered his “seductive” tone.
But when Julie thought back on her time with this man and then compared it to the nights spent in Travis’s bed, the differences were nearly laughable. Jean Claude thought a lot more of himself than he had a right to.
Obviously, he read her expression clearly because he shrugged again and said, “Fine, then. Tell me what you want from me.”
“I want you to stop what you’re doing to me and Travis.”
“Stop?” His eyebrows lifted and a smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Haven’t you done enough, Jean Claude?” she asked, taking a step toward him before stopping again. “Haven’t you made enough money off of embarrassing Travis and I?”
He straightened. “No. I believe there is much more to be had and I am not finished.”
Her stomach felt as if an invisible someone had dropped a cold rock into it. She had known going into this meeting that he would fight her on this, but she had had to try.
“Jean Claude, you’re ruining a man who doesn’t deserve this. And I’m not going to let you.”
“How will you stop me?”
“I’ll go to the police. Travis won’t, he wants to handle this himself. But I’ll have you arrested. For blackmail.”
He smiled at her and clucked his tongue. “Chérie…”
“Stop saying that!” She walked even closer, poked him in the chest with her index finger. “Back off now, Jean Claude.”
“Why should I?” he interrupted with a laugh.
“I’m not the foolish woman who once married you. I’m willing to see you in jail, or deported.”
“You wouldn’t. Besides you have no proof.”
“I can get it. Don’t push me on this.”
“I don’t believe you.” Then he bent his head and kissed her before she could jump out of the way.
Wiping one hand across her mouth as if she’d been poisoned, Julie stumbled backward, her gaze fixed on his. “You stay away from me, Jean Claude. And you back off of Travis before you end up behind bars.”
“Is that a threat?” He laughed and folded his arms over his chest. “Perhaps I should alert the papers that now Travis King is threatening me—the poor, set-aside lover.”
“Travis didn’t threaten you, Jean Claude. I did.” She glared at him and it only irritated her further that he didn’t look the least bit worried. “Blackmail is a crime, Jean Claude.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling and perfectly at ease. “Bigamy is also a crime, ma chérie. Do you really wish to meet me in a court of law?”
What Julie really wanted was to strangle him, but unfortunately, that was a crime, too. Though she was willing to bet that a jury of women would exonerate her. She could just kick herself for ever setting up this meeting. She’d so hoped she could somehow end this lingering nightmare. Now all she wanted was to get as far away from this man as she possibly could. She stalked across the lot to her car and when she opened the driver’s side door, she stopped and looked back at him. “Don’t push me, Jean Claude. Take what you have and disappear. Leave us alone.”
“I will see you soon,” he called back and gave her a wave.
When she left, spinning her wheels on the asphalt, Julie looked into her rearview mirror and saw Jean Claude on his cell phone.
Probably not a good sign.
Two hours later, Travis jumped down from the driver’s side of his truck and slammed the door behind him. The sun was hot, but the breeze was cool. Not cool enough to take the edge off the fury currently burning his insides like a brushfire out of control, though.
Seemed he’d been angry ever since he’d come up with the insane idea of getting married. And there was no end in sight. Now he was getting phone calls from a Realtor about his “wife” looking for property she hadn’t bothered to talk to him about.
He didn’t see her car, but Main Street was crowded. She could be parked just about anywhere. Birkfield was small, but bustling. Local residents usually did their shopping here, rather than take the freeway into one of the bigger cities more than an hour away. Plus, the town got a good share of tourist business as well, with people driving up the coast and stopping for a little break at the many wineries nearby.
Main Street was filled with antique stores, specialty shops, restaurants and the kinds of stores small communities all required. Hardware, groceries, post office—all crowded together on both sides of the two-lane street. Birkfield was small, true, but Travis had always loved that about the place.
At least, until recently. Now there were way too many people who felt as though they had a proprietary interest in his life. And thanks to the newspapers, tabloids and weekly trashy magazines, there was plenty of fodder to feed the local gossips.
Just what he needed.
“Afternoon, Travis,” a familiar voice called from the sidewalk in front of the local hardware store.
He muffled a groan, turned and forced a smile. Speak of the gossip. “Mrs. James. How are you?”
“Fine, fine. Been real exciting around here lately, thanks to you and Julie.”
“Yeah.” Too exciting. Just standing here, he felt as though he were under a microscope. His friends and neighbors, people he’d grown up around, people he’d known his whole life, were now watching him with avid interest.
Funny, all the times he’d gotten his picture in the paper by dating some model or actress had never gotten him the kind of attention marrying a hometown girl/bigamist had.
The older woman shook her head and gave a cluck of her tongue. “But then, you knew Julie was a caution even before you married her, now didn’t you?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer because the woman who had once been his fifth grade teacher just rolled right on.
“Of course, as I recall, you two used to be thick as thieves when you were children.” She tipped her head back and studied the sky. “I told that nice young reporter about the time I had to chase you two out of the janitor’s closet. Of course, you were both just kids then, but Julie was so sweet on you—though it was inappropriate, of course.”
He’d been nodding along, just to hurry the woman up until that last sentence caught his attention. “Inappropriate?”
“Well, you know. With her mother being your family’s cook and all.”
Travis just stared at her. He couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t come out rude, so he decided it was best to just keep nodding and move along. Still, it amazed him the things people came up with.
Inappropriate? “Good seeing you, Mrs. James.”
He hadn’t taken more than a step when she called out, “Are you looking for Julie?”
Closing his eyes, Travis took a deep breath and said pleasantly, “Yes, I am. Do you know where she is?”
“I should say so. Didn’t I see her only five minutes ago, down at the old tavern?” She clucked her tongue again in disp
leasure. “They ought to tear that eyesore down is what they ought to do, but does the town council listen to me?”
He sympathized with the town council.
“Thanks.” He shoved one hand through his hair, nodded to Mrs. James and turned for the far side of the street.
He did a lazy run across the two lanes of traffic, lifting one hand to the cars who stopped to let him pass. At the far end of the street, he spotted a news van and hoped they hadn’t spotted him. He would have thought there would be something more interesting than his life happening somewhere. But no, reporters and photographers were still dotting the streets of Birkfield, waiting for the latest installment in the King drama.
Travis kept his gaze focused straight ahead of him as he darted in and out of strolling pedestrians on his walk up the sidewalk. The scent of something delicious wafted out of the diner and his stomach grumbled in response. He’d been out working the vines all morning with his crew, just to get away from the damned phones, and his hunger marched in time with his anger.
The long-vacated bar stood between a candle shop and an art gallery featuring the work of local artists. The wide front window was covered in grime, but the door was unlocked. Travis threw a glance over his shoulder, opened the door and stepped into the dimness.
Almost no sunlight at all made it through that front window and the overhead light boasted one low-wattage bulb. Shadows clung to the walls and hid behind stacked boxes left behind by the last tenant. There was no sign of life here, but Travis could sense Julie’s presence. He didn’t even want to think about why that was.
“Julie?”
“Back here!” Her voice sounded muffled and he cursed under his breath as he walked toward it. What the hell was she up to, anyway?
He stepped through another open door into what must have passed for the kitchen, only to spot Julie, on her knees, sticking her head into an oven that looked older than him. “What’re you doing here?”
Marrying for King's Millions Page 10
