by Abbott, Alex
“The instigator of the revels, huh? I bet Bill doesn’t like him very much either.”
“No, he doesn’t. In fact I think he hates Mike’s guts even more than mine. If that is at all possible.”
“It was just a college kid prank, Jack. You’re not that guy anymore.”
He was surprised to hear her say the words. And relieved. “That’s—thank you. Now could you tell Officer Rattner? He seems to think I should suffer eternal damnation for the dumb stunt.”
“So you and Mike are still close, huh?”
“Well, yes, we are.” He decided not to mention they still attended monthly reunion parties devoted to the good old days. “I mean, he’s not a bad guy, you know. A bit wild perhaps.”
She laughed. “From the sound of him a lot wild.”
She was right. There was no denying that Mike DeLucas was a bit of an animal, all things considered, but he’d always been a loyal friend, and Jack was devoted to his friends.
“I wonder if I have friends like that.”
“Wild ones?”
She gave him a quick smile. “Good friends. Like Mike.”
He took her hand. “I bet you have plenty. I bet you’re the life and soul of a very tight group of friends.”
“Then why aren’t they out there looking for me?” she said softly.
“Perhaps they are. Perhaps they’re scouring the countryside for you right this minute, papering towns all over France in search of you.”
She shook her head. “If they were, they would have found me by now. Bill consulted the missing persons database for anyone matching my description. Nothing. It’s as if no one even knows I’m gone, Jack. Or maybe they just don’t care.”
Her voice broke and Jack gave her hand a tight squeeze. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation why you’re not in the database, Mel. And once we land in Paris we’re going to do whatever we can to find out, all right?”
She suddenly turned to him with tear-filled eyes. “Thank you, Jack. Thank you so much. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I can’t thank you enough. For caring, for...”
He trailed his finger along her cheek, then dabbed at her tears. “Hey. Everything’s gonna work out fine. Soon you’ll be home with your family and friends. You’ll see.”
She squeezed his hand between her cheek and shoulder, tears streaming down her face. “You’re my friend, Jack. From where I’m sitting you’re my only friend.”
“I love being your friend, Mel. I love...”
At the mention of the word, their eyes met, and she gave him the sweetest smile, then nodded.
He leaned over, and placed a gentle kiss on her wet lips. He could feel it all the way to his toes, that tingling sensation. He didn’t know what it was, but if anyone had asked, he would have said he belonged. In that moment, he belonged with Melanie Harper and she belonged with him. At least for that brief moment they belonged together.
The next moment, the car had pulled over, and the limo driver announced their arrival at Brussels Airport.
Reluctantly, he tore himself away from Melanie, and they exited the car while the driver went in search of the administrator in charge of their flight documents.
They were whisked through one of the smaller airport terminals, and before long were walking along the tarmac to the modest plane Jack’s dad kept fueled and ready at all times. Reminding himself to thank his old man for the favor, Jack graciously stood aside to allow Melanie to climb aboard before following suit.
Ten minutes later the small aircraft was trundling along the runway, and when the wheels were swallowed up by the plane’s belly with a signature bump, he felt a mix of exhilaration and fear tug at his stomach. Exhilaration to be sharing this adventure with Melanie. Fear that at journey’s end, they would part, their roads leading in different directions.
If there was one thing he knew, it was that he wanted to be with her for a little while longer still. In fact a whole lot longer.
To his own considerable surprise, he found that the prospect of saying goodbye to her caused his heart to tremble.
For the young investment banker, this was a first.
Chapter 14
The moment we stepped off the plane, I knew what had to be done. I just didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it sooner.
We were walking down the tarmac on our way from the plane to the terminal building, Rufus excitedly yapping all the way. I caught up with Jack, whose long legs had an advantage on me. “We should have contacted the Paris police and sent them a description of Linda Soakes and her partner. If they really did kidnap me they must have a criminal record. Or something.”
“I thought of that. Argosy checked into those two but found nothing.”
“Oh.” I deflated a little, seeing my bright idea being smashed to smithereens. But then I was rewarded with another one. “Why don’t we contact Interpol or Europol or whatever they’re called? Perhaps they know something?”
“Argosy—”
“—already did that, huh?”
“Afraid they did.”
“And nothing?”
He shook his head. “Zilch.”
My mood plummeted. If the Belgian, French and European police forces couldn’t figure out what was going on—or Jack’s detective agency for that matter—what hope was there for two amateurs such as ourselves?
He threw me a sideways glance. “Don’t worry. We’ll find out what’s going on.”
Even though I didn’t share his optimism, his words did much to buck me up. “Do you really think so?”
He switched his carry-on to his right hand and took mine in his left. “I really think so.” He then fixed me with those clear blue eyes of his. “Trust me.”
My heart made a sudden leap in my chest at both his touch and reassuring gaze, and I felt my mood make an abrupt about-face and start its ascent.
“Thanks, Jack,” I murmured.
We’d reached the terminal and, like in Brussels, were quickly whisked through on our way to the exit. The perks of the rich, I thought, as I tried to keep up with Jack, who’d clearly done this many times before.
As if answering my unasked question, he said, “The jet isn’t a bad way to travel, but usually I prefer taking the Thalys.”
“You like trains, huh?”
“I do. For some reason traveling by train relaxes me. After a long week, I find it soothing to just stare out at the passing landscape and think of nothing in particular. By the time I step out at the Gare du Nord, I’ve forgotten all about the world of finance and am ready to enjoy the downtime.”
I had to confess I’d never figured Jack the working type. He had to laugh at that.
“What did you think I did all day?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Lounge around in the hot tub with half a dozen supermodels? Entertain the jet set on one of your million dollar yachts? Flit from country to country and mansion to mansion like the rest of the billionaire bunch?”
This seemed to amuse him even more. “You mean like the ducks? Traveling South for the winter?”
“Something like that. Though I don’t think ducks like to take in the ski season in Biarritz or spend the summer in Saint-Tropez.”
We’d reached the exit and he graciously held the door for me. Another limo awaited us, its chauffeur a lookalike of the one we’d left behind in Brussels. He opened the rear door and Rufus was the first to hop inside the luxurious ride.
“Do you have a Belgian twin?” I asked the guy uncertainly.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to, Mademoiselle,” he said with a puzzled expression in his dark eyes.
“You remind her of someone,” explained Jack.
A smile broke through the clouds, and I saw that even his perfect row of white teeth closely resembled his alter ego’s. “Thank you, Mademoiselle. You’re not the first to make the connection. George Clooney and I do have certain characteristics in common.”
Now it was my turn to be surpris
ed. George Clooney? If ever a chauffeur resembled the Hollywood hunk less, it was this tall, thin man. With his meticulously shaved bullethead, he looked more like Mark Strong than any other actor I knew.
Then it struck me, and I tapped Jack excitedly on the shoulder. “Hey! I just remembered who George Clooney and Mark Strong are!”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid that’s not all that uncommon, honey. People who suffer from memory loss often remember a lot of things that have absolutely nothing to do with their personal lives. Now, unless either Mr Clooney or Mr Strong are great personal friends of yours, I’m afraid there’s not much reason for optimism.”
I slapped him on the arm for dashing my hopes. Then we were ushered into the car by Mark Strong’s twin, and I gasped at the opulence of our new surroundings. Unlike its Belgian counterpart, this limo sported not only a mini-bar but also a wide-screen TV and was so spacious I half expected it to hold a full-featured bathroom complete with hot tub and jet-stream shower.
I sat back against the soft cream-colored cushions. “You rich really know how to live, don’t you?”
Jack chuckled at this. “I’ll have you know that this is the first time I’ve ridden the limo in months. Usually I just take the subway into town.
“The subway? Like ordinary folk? But why?”
He shrugged. “I guess I don’t like the ostentatiousness. Or the loneliness. I like riding the subway so I can study the faces of my fellow passengers.”
“You’re a weird billionaire, Jack Carter,” I said dubiously.
He spread his arms. “I guess I am.”
I stared out the window as we pulled into Paris traffic, secretly hoping the scenery would ring a bell or stir some memory. Nothing. I could well have been on the other side of the world watching the ritual dance of the Baniwa.
Beside me, I felt Jack stir. Though the limo was big enough to hold a meeting of the entire board of directors of Jack’s company, he’d eased closer to me.
“What are you thinking?” he said softly as his shoulder rubbed against mine.
“The Baniwa tribe in Brazil. Another useless memory.”
“Unless you’re an anthropologist?”
“Something tells me I’m not.”
I let my head rest back against Jack’s chest as I eased lower in my seat. The warmth and comfort of being this close to him did much to dispel the whirlwind of emotions raging through me since our arrival in Paris.
What was I going to find here? What if I didn’t like what I discovered about myself? What if the real me was a truly horrible person? Worse, what if Jack didn’t like Valerie or Virginie or Veronique?
The fact that there was nobody out there looking for me spelled the worst. What kind of woman disappears without a trace? Without her family organizing a search party? Only a person who is universally loathed, that’s who.
I stared at my reflection in the tinted window of the limo. Was I some kind of horrible person that everybody hated?
I closed my eyes and nestled closer to Jack. At least he seemed to like me. Perhaps that was all that I needed.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all,” I whispered.
“Why? Don’t you want to know who you are?”
I shook my head. “I’m starting to think... not. What if I’m some kind of ogre?”
He tenderly kissed the top of my head. “You’re not an ogre, Mel. You’re a truly wonderful person. Trust me on that.”
The softly spoken words brought tears to my eyes and tugged at my heartstrings. Could this be... love?
I swiped at my eyes. Angry at my own ridiculousness. Of course this wasn’t love. Jack was just being nice to me.
“Thanks, Jack,” I mumbled. “You’re very sweet.”
He tilted my chin and frowned at my tear-filled eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head and averted my gaze. “Nothing. Just... confused, I guess.”
He placed a hand on my cheek and lowered his face, then brushed his lips against mine, and murmured, “Soon you’ll be home, safe and sound.”
In spite of my misgivings, I welcomed his lips, and wrapped my arms around him as he probed deeper. I felt so weak, so vulnerable, and Jack’s hot touch was everything I needed in that moment.
I opened my lips to bid him entry, and he darted his tongue inside, playing hide and seek with mine for a moment, then, like a torrential wave, our embrace grew more heated as he crushed my lips with his, and took full possession of my mouth, taking me voraciously.
Tears still rolled from my eyes as I gave myself to him, willing him to take me, to take all of me, before this unbidden affair was over.
Chapter 15
The more time Jack spent with Melanie, the more he felt himself falling for her. Never before had he been under the spell of a woman like this. She held a magic hold over him, and the strange thing was, he liked it.
He wanted more—he wanted everything. Was this love? Of course not. This was simply lust, the carnal hunger for a woman he knew he shouldn’t have.
For one thing, she didn’t even know who she was. For all they knew, she could well be married with three kids, her family eagerly awaiting her return while she made out with him in the backseat of his father’s limo.
In spite of the overpowering urge to fill her flesh with his, he pulled back before he crossed the line. It took every ounce of self-restraint, but finally he managed to tear himself away from her.
Though it was obvious she wanted him just as badly herself, it was wrong. Until they knew her identity, they simply couldn’t go there.
In spite of his longings, he had to keep himself in check until she was home with her family once again.
“Jack... Don’t stop,” she moaned as he pulled away. “I—I want you.”
I want you too, Mel, he thought. God, how he wanted her. But it just wasn’t right. He squared his jaw and sat back against the limo seat. “We can’t,” he croaked.
She trailed a finger along his cheek. “Why? What’s wrong?”
He shook his head to fight the urge to take her into his arms again. “We don’t know anything about you, Mel. You could be married. Your husband—”
She slung a hand to her face. “Oh, God. You’re right.”
She held up a slender hand and checked her fingers.
“No ring,” she murmured.
“That doesn’t mean...”
“Of course. They could have taken it off.” She cast him a pleading look. “But I don’t... feel married. Don’t you think I would know if I had a husband?”
“I’m not sure, honey.” He felt miserable all of a sudden. Here he’d finally met a woman he deeply cared about, and she was off-limits.
She swallowed, then shook her head. “I’m sure if there was someone in my life, I wouldn’t be feeling this way about you, Jack. A woman’s heart always knows.”
Hope surged in his bosom. She felt for him? But then he dismissed the thought. She was merely clinging to him like a drowning victim to a life raft. He was all she knew now, all her hopes pinned on him. He’d known it to happen before. The true purport of her feelings wouldn’t show before she regained the full command of her memories. The moment her original personality reasserted itself, she’d see him as the person he truly was. Would she still feel this way about him then? He doubted it. And as long as she was in this state of extreme vulnerability, it would be criminal to take advantage of her.
He rubbed his eyes. “I can’t, honey. It’s just not right. You can see that, can’t you?”
She fell back against the seat, and he could see the hope die in her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I guess I can.”
He intertwined his fingers with hers. This was as far as he was willing to go. Even though his body ached for her touch, he resisted the urge with all the power of his being.
The limo eased to a stop, and the door swung open. “We’re here, sir,” intoned the driver, a hint of amusement behind his eyes. He’d probably followed the whole scene, Jack thought. Driv
ers always did.
He exited the vehicle, and helped Melanie out.
Staring up at the brownstone he called his home, he was gratified to see her face light up with girlish delight. “This is all yours?”
“Yep. Home sweet home.”
“But I thought you said you had a little pad in Paris?”
He gestured at the ornate oak door with the brass knocker. “This is it. My little pad.”
“Will you be needing me any further, sir?”
He quickly pressed a hundred euro bill in the man’s palm and said, “No, thank you, Rod. I can take it from here.”
“Thank you, sir. Have a pleasant day.”
Melanie turned to the driver. “Thank you, Rodney. Say hello to your brother, will you?”
The sliver of a smile tugged at the man’s lips, and he gave her a brief nod. “I will, Mademoiselle.”
They stepped inside, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Finally home. He hadn’t told Melanie but it was very rare that he brought a woman here.
His housekeeper Magali, who must have heard the door unlock, came walking down the stairs. A middle-aged woman with sleek black hair and a perpetual frown etched between her brows, she nevertheless spirited a smile on her lips at the sight of Jack and Melanie standing in the center of the hallway, Rufus in their midst.
“Monsieur Carter, such a surprise to see you. I thought you weren’t coming until the weekend?”
“Change of plans, Magali.” He gestured at Melanie. “This is Melanie Harper. She’ll be staying with us for a little while.”
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle.”
“Bonjour, Magali.”
“Miss Harper has been through a great ordeal and will need to recover. Did you get my message about the room?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Everything is ready. Shall I show you to your room, Miss Harper?”
“Just call me Mel. I’m not used to being called Miss Harper.” She directed a glance at Jack. “At least I don’t think so.”
Jack had decided not to tell his staff more than they needed to know. Not that he didn’t trust their discretion, but he was reluctant to share information about Melanie with anyone. As long as they didn’t know more about who she was and where she came from it was better to play their cards close to their chests. Especially with Linda Soakes and that goon of hers still on the loose.
