Enchanted Heart

by Felicia Mason

  More than once she’d caught him alone at the secluded lakefront. He’d gone there to think about Gayla and the life they’d share together. Ginger had come with seduction on her mind. She’d done everything in her power to seduce him, but Lance’s body and mind belonged to his secret bride.

  “Her name was Ginger. And no. I didn’t marry her. I didn’t want her. You were the only woman I wanted.”

  “Past tense?”

  Still thinking about that strange week in the middle of the school year, he shook his head, “What was that?”

  The waiter put a fresh bowl of ice cream in front of Gayla. She scooped a bit onto her spoon. “Nothing.”

  “Tell me what else happened.”

  “What do you mean, what else?”

  He quickly relayed their shared history. “We got married in Mexico. Came home and decided to keep it a secret at least for a while.”

  “I was pregnant. My mom figured it out before I did. I was throwing up like crazy every morning.”

  “And then you told your parents we’d gotten married?”

  She nodded and ate some more ice cream. “They must have told your grandmother, because the next thing I knew, she was at the door and we went to lunch.”

  So she did know. A cold chill ran down Lance’s back.

  He felt for Gayla. His grandmother’s lunches could be brutal affairs. “What’d she say?”

  “It wasn’t what she said,” Gayla told him on a shrug. “It was what she didn’t say, and what she did.”

  Lance waited.

  “She told me you were destined for someone else. That I needed to disappear.”

  “Disappear?”

  “She gave me the money. Like you did now.”

  Lance’s gaze shot to the purse on the table.

  “It seemed like a lot at the time. I wasn’t supposed to contact you. I was supposed to just go away. Give the baby up for adoption, get an abortion. She didn’t care. She just told me to go away.”

  “But we were married.”

  “She said you were in love with someone else.”

  “Ginger Gerard.”

  Gayla shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t supply a name, and I didn’t ask. I was too busy being devastated.”

  “Did you ever finish high school?”

  She shook her head again. “I went back for a GED once, but Tarique was sick a lot and eventually it just didn’t seem important anymore. Sometimes I think about it though. I had such big dreams then. I was going to be a fashion designer. Remember that suit I designed for you?”

  He nodded.

  “What about you?” she asked. “I know you finished high school. I saw it in the paper. Did you go on to college?”

  Lance was embarrassed to tell her just how far he had gone. While he’d been partying down, erasing her memory with pretty girls and wild weekends, Gayla had been a struggling single mom. A teenage mother without any support. “Yeah,” he told her. “I went to college.”

  “Good for you.” She finished off her ice cream and clattered the spoon into the bowl. “But you’re not taking my baby.”

  “I don’t want to take him,” he lied. “I just want to be a part of his life.”

  “Why?”

  The question stopped him cold. He hadn’t given that much thought—any thought. Just the fact that he had a son was all he’d thought about since the moment he’d met Tarique.

  He wanted to do father-son things like go to baseball games and shoot hoops in the driveway. He wanted to teach him how to drive and take him on trips. All the things he’d never gotten himself from a father. He wanted his son to have the privileges that went with his heritage as a Heart. He wanted, in short, his son.

  “Because I never knew my own father.”

  “That’s not much of an answer.”

  “It is if you ever grew up wondering why you didn’t have a dad like all the other kids. Why no one ever mentioned him. Cole was like a big brother to me. Sometimes I pretended that he was my father. But it wasn’t the same, and I wondered if Cole’s father, my grandfather, loved me as much as my own father might have.”

  Gayla pursed her lips. “I’m having a hard time feeling sorry for you, Lance. You had everything. Everything. Do you have any idea what it was like? I was treated like royalty at school just for being your girlfriend. You’d come pick me up driving that convertible and”—she shook her head—“it was like being queen. The queen of hearts.”

  Gayla reached for her almost-empty water glass. “I played it to the hilt, too. Sometimes I couldn’t hardly believe that we were so in love. Some of my friends told me it wouldn’t last, that you’d eventually dump me for one of those rich girls at your private school, but I didn’t believe any of them. Then we went to Mexico.”

  A faraway smile blossomed on her face and Lance knew that she, too, recalled that perfect day when they’d slipped away to an exotic little Mexican town. They’d spent the weekend after their vows wrapped in each other’s arms. They’d had warm sun and sand, tropical drinks and the honeymoon cabana all to themselves.

  “When I got home I was still in a dream world,” Gayla said. “Then I found out I was pregnant. My friends all said, ‘Told you so.’ But I believed in you. In our love. Then you left.”

  “I didn’t leave you, Gayla. The last time I saw you you said you’d changed your mind about us. That you didn’t want to be married. That it had all been a big mistake.”

  “I was seventeen, Lance. I was scared. And your grandmother threatened me. She said I had to tell you those things.”

  Lance swore, angry again at how the interference had messed up both their lives. She’d lived in poverty and despair, while he’d wandered around doing nothing but whatever suited him at the moment. All because of Virginia. He wanted to see his grandmother’s side of things, but from this end of it, all he could see was that he—they—had been royally screwed over.

  “I had no place to go,” Gayla said. “I used the money your grandmother gave me to live in a hotel for a while. After that, I found a little house I rented. When the money got low with all the hospital stuff for Tarique, I moved into Walker Village. A few years later, I moved to where I am today. I’ve been there ever since.”

  Lance didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t know what to say. Then, “I’m sorry.”

  Compared to her life, he’d led a charmed existence—even while he complained about the restrictions put on him. Restrictions regarding money and cars and which college he could go to. All things that Gayla had wanted. Maybe that was why he’d paid skant attention to his lessons. He’d never been all that interested in higher education. He’d gone along so he would fulfill the demands placed on him by his family and get them, especially Cole, off his case.

  “All I can do now is try to make it right for you, for Tarique.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Some time with my son,” he told her.

  Her eyes narrowed, and he knew that the Gayla he’d loved all those years ago was long gone. The one in front of him now was shrewd and still more than a little pissed off.

  She leaned back, twirled the spoon in her hand.

  “It’s gonna cost you.”

  21

  Julian Gerard made his decision about the new client. He’d take this one on and charge double his usual fee, which would make up for any lost revenue as a result of his association with Vivienne coming to an end. She’d sent a lot of people his way through the years. That revenue stream drying up would have an impact on his profit margin.

  His lip curled at the thought of her. “Bitch.”

  The line rang and after a few moments he was connected with Dean Khan’s assistant.

  “Mr. Khan is unavailable at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”

  Julian did.

  “He’s away on business, but should be back in the office next week. Is that soon enough or do you need the message to reach him earlier?”

  Julian sat back i
n his soft leather chair. “Next week will be fine. I’ll follow up with an e-mail.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Julian’s work as a publicist had always been lucrative. He was glad he’d branched out though. Vivienne’s ties to the fashion industry had launched his career but now, the deep pockets of corporate clients like Khan and the professional athletes would keep his business flush.

  He spent the rest of the afternoon working up a preliminary project plan for Khan, then he called his sister to confirm dinner that weekend. He and Ginger tried to get together every couple of months. They’d been close as kids and teenagers, but their busy lives got in the way these days.

  Ginger was in between husbands at the moment. She’d dumped number three and was working on number four, expecting any day now that her very wealthy intended would pop the question. It had never occurred to her that all of her husbands looked just like the one that got away. For Julian, his sister’s obsession with a long-ago boyfriend had been something of a joke for years, always good for a little sibling ribbing. But the joke had turned and now it was on Julian. All of Ginger’s men looked the same because she’d never stopped loving and wanting Vivienne’s new pimp: Lance Heart Smith.

  Lance didn’t like the sound of what he was hearing from Gayla. “How much is it going to cost me?”

  She licked her lips. “Well, that depends.”

  “On what?”

  “How badly you want to see him.”

  He lost his patience then. “We’re not talking about a car you can trade in for a newer model, or a dress you cast off after wearing a couple of times. We’re talking about a child. My son. Our child.”

  Gayla pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “And your point would be?”

  Lance stared at the woman he’d been so deeply in love with. “You’ve changed, Gayla.”

  “And you haven’t,” she said on a shrug. “You’re still selfish and childish. You think everything should go your way just because you’re a Heart. Well, Lance, here’s a revelation: That don’t mean shit.”

  “How much do you want?”

  “How much you got?”

  He had the sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to backhand her, right there at the table.

  “Waiter!”

  The smug, knowing smile and the gleam in her eyes told him all he needed to know. She didn’t care about Tarique. She didn’t even care about herself. If she did, she wouldn’t be living the way she was. In filth. Just because a person was poor didn’t mean she had to live like a hog, and that was just how Gayla lived. If Lance didn’t get his son out of that situation—quickly—it might be too late. As a Heart, Tarique deserved better. As Lance’s son, Tarique was worthy of so much more.

  Before the server approached with the check, Lance had pulled out a fifty and was on his feet. He handed the money to the guy. “Keep the change. Let’s go, Gayla.”

  “Thank you, sir!” the waiter said, beaming. “Come back again. Soon.”

  Gayla sat back in her chair. “I’d like some more ice cream.”

  “Okay.” The server turned to go.

  “We’re leaving,” Lance said, the two words clipped and his mouth a thin line.

  “I’m not finished with my lunch.”

  Lance leaned forward until he was right in her face. “Unless you plan to catch the bus back to your house, you’re finished.”

  He turned on his heel and walked out of the restaurant.

  Gayla scrambled to catch up with him.

  Dean Khan liked the smell of freedom. He inhaled deeply and didn’t even mind that humidity clogged the air like cotton candy in a sieve. He, who’d enjoyed being outdoors before his confinement, could, unlike many, truly appreciate how much it meant to have the whole of the world at his feet again.

  He knew it would take time to rebuild his business. But he’d learned a lot in prison. He knew how to better operate this time. And he knew not to ever let a cunt rule his actions.

  Khan’s list was short. Upon release, a lot of his former fellow inmates wanted to fuck their girls then eat a thick steak. For Khan, that could wait. The first thing—right after a long, hot bath—would be to pay a little visit to Rachel. It had taken time, but thanks to the Internet he’d found her. She’d covered her tracks in the beginning, but had gotten either careless or sloppy later on. Or maybe she figured he no longer cared. But he did. Oh, how he did.

  Rachel had a little operation running that from all indications was a very lucrative enterprise. Dean Khan expected a cut from her. A big cut. She’d stolen from him, his money and ten years of his life. The least the bitch could do was pay him back. With interest.

  She did, after all, owe him.

  “What’s this I hear about you meeting and entertaining some man?”

  Virginia paused in the middle of mixing a gin and tonic and glanced over her shoulder at her brother-in-law. He sat in “his” chair in her parlor with his feet propped up on an ottoman. “That blabbermouth Penelope.”

  Jimmy chuckled. “It wasn’t Penny. I have my sources.”

  Virginia looked at him. “Lily,” she guessed.

  Jimmy just laughed, the sound a deep rumbling that started in his thick gut. The vest of his suit rode up on his stomach. He chomped down on his cigar and accepted the glass from Virginia. “Did you check him out?”

  “I am not one of the children,” she said. “I don’t need to vet my companions or relationships.”

  He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Oh, it’s a relationship.” The statement was obviously a probing question.

  “I have work to do. You can sit there and speculate all you please.” She headed toward the sliding glass doors that led to her garden. With a final glare in his direction, she stepped out, pulling the door to as she went out.

  From his chair, Jimmy watched her bend over and pick up a basket.

  “All these years and the woman still has one fine ass.”

  She wrapped a dirt-smudged apron around her waist, tugged on a pair of well-worn gardening gloves and hefted a pair of clippers. She tucked the basket under her arm and headed into the rows of her flowers.

  The garden was her refuge. Jimmy had always enjoyed watching her among the plants and flowers she loved so much. He knew that she’d retreated to her garden each time her husband, his late brother, had hurt her. He and Coleman had been true hell-raisers. Coleman had died the way he’d lived: sexing a woman who wasn’t his wife.

  Jimmy had always had a thing for his brother’s wife. Not that he had or ever would let her know that. His job now was to watch over the family interests, and that included his sister-in-law. Virginia deserved a little happiness—even if Jimmy wasn’t the one making her happy. Whether she liked it or not, he planned to check out this Malcolm Grant he’d heard about.

  Jimmy swung his legs around the ottoman, and with his drink in hand, headed outside to join her in the garden. She was bent over a rosebush, inspecting the leaves and blooms.

  “Maybe I need to book a spot on this love cruise of yours. You leave on Saturday, right?”

  “Don’t even think about it,” she said. Then guessing his source, “The travel agent. That’s who told you.”

  Jimmy neither confirmed nor denied.

  When he didn’t say anything, Virginia moved to the next plant. She pinched off a few yellowing leaves, then snipped off two stems and put them in her basket. “Besides,” she said, “you’re not eligible to go on the cruise. It’s for singles.”

  He chuckled. “What’d that youngblood write about not too long ago? ‘Married, but still looking.’ ”

  She shot a withering glance at him.

  Jimmy sobered. Too late he realized that had been a low blow. Virginia didn’t grieve for her husband, but she was still pissed off at how he’d treated her. She hadn’t been appeased then by the lavish gifts he showered on her after every affair. Jimmy knew about the gifts because he’d selected many of them, particularly the jewelry—diamonds and gemstones he couldn’t give her hims
elf.

  “I’m not going on your cruise,” he said. “And for the record, I’ve been pretty much faithful.”

  “Pretty much isn’t the same as fidelity.”

  By unspoken agreement, Jimmy and Virginia didn’t talk about the past when it pertained to Coleman. Jimmy had played the role of instigator, troubleshooter and family-secrets holder for the last four decades. Unfortunately, if what his sources told him was true, the past was about to collide with the present again. And it would definitely involve Virginia. The least that could be said was that Lance had inherited Coleman’s womanizing ways.

  He took a swallow from his drink. “It’s a little late to try to teach an old dog new tricks.”

  “Um-hmm. You said it exactly. Dog.”

  “Come on, Ginny. I didn’t come over here to fight.”

  “Then what did you come over here for?” She snipped a bloom, then cussed when she realized she’d cut it in half. “Look what you made me do!”

  “You’re in a mood today.”

  She turned around, wielding the clippers at him. “I am not in a mood.”

  He held up both his free hand and the drink. “I just stopped by to say hello.”

  “And to sniff all up in my business.”

  He smiled. “Well, yeah. That, too,” he admitted.

  A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. “You’re forgiven. As always.”

  He wiped a hand over his brow. “Whew.”

  “We need to put a stop to Lance’s association with this la Fontaine woman.”

  Jimmy rolled his eyes. “We’ve been through this before. He’s a grown man, Ginny.”

  “He’s a grown man who has no idea just what he’s gotten mixed up in.” Virginia filled him in on the report she’d gotten from their private investigator.

  “Damn,” Jimmy said. “How much time did she do?”

  Virginia clipped more roses and placed them in her basket, then she moved to the flowering pots. “None as far as Henderson Foster was able to determine. The rest of the records are sealed.”