Mad About The Man

by Stella Cameron

  "Yes, Gaby."

  "We'll have that bucket of margaritas."

  14

  "He'll lie through his teeth," Gaby said, filing into the Women's Auxiliary Hall behind Char.

  "At least he changed his mind about making time to talk with all of us tonight," Char said. "Give the man a chance."

  Give him a chance? "What do you think I've been doing?"

  Char raised a single eyebrow at Gaby and said nothing.

  Gaby felt herself turn pink. She hadn't actually said she and Jacques were lovers, but Char's sharp-eyed glance suggested she'd arrived at that conclusion. "Promise me you'll take good care of Mae tonight," Gaby whispered urgently.

  "As if I'd do anything else." Char didn't deign to look at Gaby again. "I've been loving her since she was a baby. Why would that change just because her mother's turned into a pig-headed idiot?"

  "Don't mention pigs to me."

  "Hush. He's coming."

  Jacques was indeed coming to the gathering he'd called for seven o'clock on the very Saturday evening when he intended to give Goldstrike's history to a carnival maker.

  Striding through the double doors of the creaking, white clapboard building, he smiled from side to side and waved like a confident young politician… or a television evangelist.

  A television evangelist in a tuxedo.

  Gaby's blood began to simmer. "Now do you believe what I told you?" She crossed her arms and shrank against the back wall. "Look what he's wearing."

  Char's brow puckered. "He could have decided this was an occasion for formal dress."

  "A chat with people he considers the insignificant local yokels of Goldstrike? Oh, give me a break!" Jacques leaped up the steps to the platform and smiled his marvelous smile in all directions as if waiting for applause to cease.

  Silence had fallen upon the previously grumbling audience.

  "Good evening to you all," Jacques said, bracing his feet apart and managing to make his deep, clear voice carry throughout the hall. "I really appreciate your cooperation. You didn't get much notice about tonight's meeting, and this is a great turnout."

  "He makes it sound as if all he did was post a flyer on a tree," Gaby whispered. "Hand-delivered invitations complete with the promise of complementary Ledan chocolates might just have swayed one or two into appearing."

  "He was being gracious. And he's here to make you happy. If you hadn't given him the cold shoulder all week he probably wouldn't have bothered." Char sighed. "He's so good-looking."

  Char was another Jacques Ledan conquest. Gaby looked over the women present and decided they all appeared dazed by Mr. Wonderful.

  "I'm sure you all have other things to do on a Saturday night, so I'll keep this brief," Jacques said.

  "Because he has other things to do," Gaby intoned. "Only he's not going to get to do them."

  Char glanced at her. "I hope you know what you're doing."

  "What would you say to a new school right here in Goldstrike?" Jacques's voice rang out.

  A rumble of conversation broke out among the assembly.

  "Would having your children go to school in their community again please you?"

  Scattered shouts of Yes rose.

  "We can do that, my friends. You and I as a team can bring our children back where they belong. With the healthy, and very acceptable, rise in population my expansion plans will bring, there'll be enough young people in Goldstrike to warrant providing for their education in the town where they live. And— when they graduate and, we hope, go on to college— they'll leave with enough enthusiasm for their hometown to want to come back!

  "I say, let's get rid of busing for good. Let's take back the right, and the opportunity, to have a real impact on the formative years of our greatest resource—our young people!"

  "Yes!" The response was deafening.

  Jacques grinned endearingly. He strolled back and forth on the stage like a pleased, exceptionally handsome and wholesome movie star who had proven that his vaguely devilish face and lean, commanding body, were merely a disguise.

  A big man in the center of the crowd rose to his feet.

  "That's one of Sis's brothers," Char said. "I didn't think they spoke."

  The following silence lasted so long, Gaby began to believe the man must be mute.

  He coughed, hitched at baggy blue overalls and coughed. "What's it all going to cost us, then? That's what we want to know. Don't get nothin' for nothin' in our book. Our Sis says you're plannin' to change everythin' around here. We wouldn't hold with that. No sir." Abruptly he sat down again.

  Jacques leveled a long finger on the man. "I'm very glad you said that. Very glad. If I don't hear these silly rumors, I can't put your worries to bed. And that's where they belong, folks. I want you to trust me. I've been coming to Goldstrike since I was a baby. My grandfather built a little house—not much more than a cabin—where La Place stands now. My father enlarged the building and I've added on a room or two."

  "It's the size of a castle," Gaby mumbled.

  "My family and I have a stake in this area and that's why I'm setting out to make a new future for all of us. It would take too long to explain everything we intend to do, but I've got a compromise."

  "A compromise that'll get him to a more important meeting on time," Gaby said.

  "Shh." Char pressed a finger to her lips.

  "Within a month there'll be a detailed mock-up of the entire project available for viewing."

  Gaby shifted. "He makes it sound like a body."

  "As soon as the location's been fixed, I'll make sure every one of you is informed. I'll be personally responsible for conducting lectures with full explanations of each phase."

  "Mae's playing out front," Gaby said. "I'd better get started."

  "I really wish you wouldn't."

  "He's got to be stopped."

  A smattering of applause gusted through the room, and Gaby glanced at Jacques once more. He looked directly at her and smiled. "Please believe me when I say that what happens here is important to me personally." His mouth became serious, but he continued to hold Gaby's gaze. "In fact, it's very probable that you can expect me to be spending more and more time in Goldstrike."

  She made herself look away.

  "I've got to leave you," Jacques announced. "But first I'm going to show you just one reason why I'm determined to change the future for all of us. Come here, Mae."

  Gaby froze.

  Through the doors came Mae. Jacques jumped down from the platform and strode to meet the child. He gave her ponytail a playful tug and took her small hand in his. Side by side they walked to the front of the hall and Jacques lifted Mae to stand before the townspeople.

  "That's it," Gaby said through barely parted lips. "Now he's really going to find out who can play dirty."

  From the floor, Jacques indicated Gaby's adorable daughter. "Mae McGregor is a friend of mine. And she's just one of many reasons why we've got to band together as a team and make a future worth having." With that he bent to retrieve the companion Mae had brought with her. "We're going to make sure this is always a down home place where children can grow up enjoying the special things city kids only dream about." He set Mae's new piglet on the platform. "Meet Shortcake. He belongs to Mae. My parting words to you are— A pig for every kid. Thank you for coming."

  "You're going to wish you hadn't come, Jacques," Gaby said as she dashed from the hall.

  He never remembered holding a child's hand before. An alien, poignant sensation surprised him. Mae was an intelligent little girl, full of fun, but with a serious side, too. Yeah, he might be able to enjoy her… only because she was Gaby's though, of course.

  Jacques drove the Jeep away from the Women's Auxiliary Hall. As he'd walked down the aisle to leave, the tentative smiles and nods from a number of people had pleased him.

  Insisting on attending the meeting alone had been a master stroke. He would enjoy telling Bart and Rita how right he'd been to think people would see him as
more accessible without an entourage. Too bad he'd had no choice but to go in the tux. Bart had called on the car phone to say Napoleon Paradise was canceling until further notice, but by then Jacques was already driving into Goldstrike and it had been too late to go back and change.

  Slipping a finger beneath his starched collar, he twisted his neck uncomfortably. Black tie was fine in its place but not in Goldstrike.

  On the edge of town he drew to the side of the road, trying to make up his mind which way to go. Straight ahead and home, or to the right and Gaby's house.

  When he'd left the hall, Char Brown had been the one to collect Mae. Gaby was nowhere to be seen, and he hadn't liked to ask Char where she was in front of the child.

  Gaby hadn't said more than two or three short sentences to him all week.

  But maybe she'd be looser now he'd given the local people the hearing she'd so badly wanted.

  The minute he'd made eye contact with her, she'd walked out.

  Damn. He gunned the engine and pointed the Jeep's nose straight ahead. Let her be the one to make the next move. He'd never had to run after a woman and he didn't intend to start now.

  The evening was gray. A fine rain misted the windshield. Jacques settled his elbow on the window ledge and drove the road instinctively. Why hadn't he gotten involved in the town before?

  No reason to, he guessed. That and the fact that he used to feel completely involved with Ledan's. But no man with imagination could be expected never to crave new ventures, ventures conceived and executed by himself.

  Ahead, something moved.

  Jacques leaned forward and peered. The road rose and fell gently at this point and the failing light flattened everything.

  A figure knelt on the shoulder beside a pile of something he couldn't make out.

  As he drew closer, Jacques slowed down. Then the person stood up.

  "Gaby?" It was Gaby. She waved. The pile consisted of her bicycle, resting on its side with one wheel unattached.

  Jacques pulled over and got out. Immediately the rain, heavier now, buffeted him. "What are you doing, woman?" He strode to stand over the cycle.

  "Trying to fix this." Gaby sounded doleful as she pointed to the dismembered machine.

  "Out here?" He looked in all directions. "Why are you riding out here?"

  "I like to," she said, without inflection.

  A thought struck him. She'd ridden out here hoping to see him. Why else? "It is pretty scenery, isn't it?" His heart warmed. He'd wanted her to make a move. This was it. But he mustn't spook her by letting her know he'd guessed.

  "I don't suppose you know anything about bicycles." The resigned way she spoke suggested she doubted he'd ever done anything practical in his life.

  "Let me take a look." This wasn't the time to tell her he came from very sensible stock who believed in self-sufficiency.

  Crouching, he grasped the bike's front fork and pulled the loose wheel into place. "The release couldn't have been secure. This won't take a minute." Then he'd pack her—and the bike—into the Jeep and take them home. To his home.

  "Something rolled away," Gaby said. "Over there. Behind you."

  Jacques swiveled in the direction she pointed. Gaby, stumbling into him, was a blur he saw the moment before she knocked him to his back on dirt that was rapidly turning muddy.

  "I'm sorry," Gaby wailed. "Oh, dear."

  Somehow they became jumbled together on the ground. With legs flailing, she clutched his shirt with both hands as if trying to save herself from impact. "We've already fallen," Jacques said, as evenly as he could. All he could do was hold on while she squirmed all over him. "Gaby, it's over. We can get up again now."

  "Oh, dear. Oh, dear!"

  "Gaby, you're strangling me."

  "Oh—" Her eyes widened and she grew still. "Oh. I'm sorry."

  "It's okay. Accidents happen."

  The white dress she wore was wet—and getting wetter. "I don't know what happened. I'm so sorry." With her body stretched on top of him, her eyes were very close—and very green. "You must think I'm a total klutz."

  Jacques tried for a patient smile. "Not a bit of it, sweetheart. But it might be nice to get up."

  "Get up? Oh, of course." Still holding the lapels of his jacket, she crawled off and knelt beside him. "Let me help you."

  "We'll throw the bike in the Jeep and get out of} this rain," he told her. "We're both getting soaked."

  "Look at your shirt, Jacques. It's a mess."

  He did look, and wince. Thank God he wasn't trying to make the meeting with Napoleon.

  Gaby smoothed the tux—with muddy hands—and tutted.

  There were times when the behavior of women completely confounded him. He got up and pulled Gaby to her feet. "In the Jeep. I'll deal with the bike."

  "It's closer to my house than yours."

  Jacques opened the door. "I don't think so."

  "I do." Gaby climbed into the Jeep. "In fact, I know it is. And I know you're in a hurry to get to… to get somewhere important."

  He tried to close the door but she held it open. "Gaby, relax. Don't give this another thought. We'll go to my place and get warm." He looked at his watch, calculating whether or not his cook would have left and decided she undoubtedly had.

  "What time is it?"

  "Eight-fifteen," he told her.

  "That late? You must be beside yourself with me. Please, Jacques. Forget the bike. I'll find a way to pick it up later."

  He leaned closer to examine her face, particularly her forehead. There was no sign of a bump or cut. "You're shaken up." Gently removing her hand from the window rim, he shut her in. "Close your eyes and rest." From the way she was acting, a complete head check might be a good idea.

  Quickly he manhandled the bike behind his seat and hopped in beside Gaby.

  "Your clothes are a mess," she said.

  "They sure are." Thanks to her efforts. "So are yours. We'll get to La Place. You can take a nice, long, hot bath while I do what I have to." The call to his parents would still need to be made, and he might as well get it out of the way early.

  "My house really is closer." Gaby clamped a hand on the steering wheel. "It is."

  "I think mine's closer." And there was no danger of being interrupted.

  "You're wrong. Mine is. I've measured."

  He spread his fingers on his thighs. "Measured?"

  "I mean… Not exactly measured. But I've spent so much time out here I just know."

  "I see."

  "I knew you would."

  "You really don't want to come to my house, do you?"

  "No—I mean, yes, yes, of course I do. It's just that with you being in such a hurry and needing to arrive where you're going in a tux, I'm sure I can fix you up quickly at my house and—" she paused for breath "—and then you can be on your way and not make anyone upset or miss anything you've got to do."

  The poor little thing felt guilty! Jacques smiled and said soothingly, "All right. Your house it'll be." He was going to have to work harder on helping her build self-esteem. No doubt that creep Michael Copeland was the kind of man who berated women for the smallest mistake.

  After backing up, Jacques swung the Jeep around and headed back the way he'd come. At the junction he turned left and floored the accelerator. Gaby was definitely soaked and the anxiety on her face troubled him. He didn't know all the pressures she was under. A woman at peace with herself and the world didn't ride around the wide open spaces in bad weather— on a bicycle—even in hopes of seeing a man who interested her.

  "Will Char and Mae be there?"

  "No!"

  He frowned. "That bothers you?"

  "No. I just want you to believe we won't be interrupted. Mae's spending the night with Char. She often does on the weekends."

  Jacques's thoughts ran in hot, dark directions. Gaby wanted and needed them to be together, alone, as much as he did. "I'm going to have to do something. I'll make it as short as I can." His parents were long-winded and h
e enjoyed them too much to put them off.

  Before he'd fully stopped the engine in Gaby's driveway, she was out of the Jeep and racing for the house.

  Tugging his tie undone, Jacques went after her. Anticipation made itself felt in the usual way where Gaby was concerned.

  He closed the door behind him and walked forward, looking for her. "Gaby? Where are you?' '

  "Back here." Her voice came from a passageway to the left and he saw her head poking from a room. "Come on. You won't miss a thing, I promise you."

  "I believe you." Her approach titillated him. Evidently Gaby McGregor wasn't a woman practiced in setting up seductions. He breathed deeply. That suited him fine. She was, however, the kind of woman erotic dreams were made of, and to walk toward her now, knowing her intentions, made him instantly ready for what they did so well together.

  The call to his parents could wait.

  She pulled him into a small, softly feminine bedroom decorated in pale yellows and lavenders and furnished with white wicker. That surprised him. He'd expected the same dramatically bold colors and lines she favored in clothing.

  "Get everything off."

  His head snapped toward her. He smiled, and the smile broadened. "In a masterful mood, huh? Okay. I can take orders."

  The tux jacket was whipped from his shoulders the instant he undid the buttons. Before he could make another move, Gaby unbuckled his cummerbund and went to work on the shirt studs.

  "You understand me, Gaby. That's a rare thing." The shirt went the way of the jacket. "You know when I can wait and when I can't."

  "Don't worry about a thing." She pulled off his shoes, and then his trousers hit the floor. "I'm going to take care of you, Jacques."

  Yeah. "I'm sure you will," he said and heard the thickening in his own voice.

  Ms. McGregor might not have had a whole lot of recent practical experience, but she stripped a man with remarkable efficiency. Seconds more and Jacques stood, stark naked except for his watch.

  Gaby gathered his clothes into a pile, plunked them on the puffy bed comforter and faced him. "Into the shower with you."

  "The shower?" he asked carefully. He locked his knees against the pulsing in his groin.