A Taste of Heaven (Billionaires' Secrets Book 3)

by Jennifer Lewis

  The smile faded from Louis’s eyes. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive. You loved him a lot.”

  Chest tight, Sam reached into her pocket for a familiar hankie and dabbed at her eyes. “More than I’d ever imagined. And I’d had a lot of practice by then.”

  He didn’t smile at her attempted levity. “It’s great that you finally found someone who made you happy. I guess the third time was the charm, or however that cliché goes.”

  His words sounded insincere, like he was just being polite. Suddenly she needed him to know that her late husband was not just some old man with a yen for young women.

  “Tarrant Hardcastle was the kind of man who adds color and style to the history books. He was brimming with ideas and dreams and schemes and glorious visions, right up until the day he died. It was an honor to be in his presence. I still don’t know what he saw in me.” She fixed him with a steady gaze, defying him to disagree.

  Louis met her gaze, his expression serious. “Maybe he saw someone who could love him for himself, not for his money.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “How would he know?”

  “As a man of vision, I bet he could just tell.” A dimple appeared as he smiled. “And you are pretty.”

  Sam felt herself blushing. What for? It’s not like she didn’t know she was pretty.

  That’s what got her roped into all those stinking beauty pageants that had her strutting about like a champion heifer when she should have been taking courses at the community college so she could get a real job.

  And she knew she was still pretty now, at thirty-one. She should be, what with all the money and effort that went into it. She supported a whole army of personal trainers and massage therapists and colorists and manicurists.

  And Tarrant had insisted she only wear couture originals. He called it a quirk of his.

  She’d readily humored him. At the time, she’d explained it to herself and others as another example of his visionary approach to life.

  Suddenly her perspective was different.

  “Maybe he married me because he wanted to dress me up like a Barbie doll, too?”

  “I think you enjoy the Barbie thing yourself. I asked you to dress casual and you look like you’re ready to hit a runway somewhere.”

  Sam glanced down at the rather chic linen outfit she’d chosen. “I guess I can’t help it. It’s an ingrained habit. I’d probably need a twelve-step program to get me into a pair of Levi’s at this point.”

  Louis grinned. “I bet you’d look cute in a pair of Levi’s. But if dressing up makes you happy, what’s wrong with that? You can’t live your life to meet other people’s expectations. You have to do what’s right for you.”

  “Sometimes that’s hard to figure out. I guess I’m so used to trying to meet other people’s expectations that it’s natural to me now.”

  Louis put his plate down on the floor of the boat. He crossed his arms on his knees and leaned forward. She shrank from the intensity in his gaze, from the focused attention of his sharp mind.

  “Sounds like you’ve spent your life looking for a father figure who’d tell you what to do.” Again, his gaze wasn’t accusatory. If anything, it was compassionate.

  She lifted her chin. She didn’t want his pity or anyone else’s. “As it happens, my father didn’t tell me what to do. He mostly ignored me.”

  Louis scraped his plate into the water. Sam watched in awe as several fish spooked to the surface and snatched at morsels of potato and sausage.

  She clung more tightly to her own plate.

  Why was she here? She didn’t need to be psychoanalyzed by some guy who thought he was God’s gift to women. She was just trying to make it through the day in one piece.

  Louis cocked his head. “Maybe you were subconsciously trying to get your father’s attention by reenacting the scenario.”

  Sam narrowed her eyes. “I got his attention all right. He hasn’t spoken to me since my first divorce. He said I was a sinner for leaving my marriage and doomed to hell.” Sam’s heart still clenched at the memory. Her plate shook in her hand and she clutched it tighter.

  Louis winced. “Some people shouldn’t be parents.”

  He took her plate from her and cleaned it-with the same deft move. She watched the fish dart to the surface and inhale her uneaten morsels.

  “Recycling in action,” he murmured, as he wrapped the plates in a pretty dishcloth and returned them to the basket. “Don’t let your dad get you down. I survived just fine without one.”

  His level gaze challenged her to alter that bare and apparently comfortable fact of his life.

  For a second, she felt a twinge of remorse that she’d invaded his comfortable existence and inserted a new possibility into it. “Family can be a wonderful thing.”

  “In moderation.” Louis winked.

  Sam smiled. His warm expression disarmed her. The rich copper rays of slow sunset shone on his too-handsome face and glittered in the droplets of water that splattered his powerful forearms.

  She tried not to notice the funny ticklish sensation in her belly.

  “At least I don’t have to worry about making a child miserable by inflicting my own traumas on them.”

  “Why not?” he asked. “Isn’t that part of the fun of parenting?”

  Sam felt her smile fade. “I don’t have any children.” She could say it calmly, all emotion buried beneath a composed exterior. She’d officially given up all hope and she was fine with that. She’d known when she married Tarrant that he was not capable of giving her a child, and she accepted it as her fate.

  She’d actually felt calmer since then.

  “Me, neither.” Louis sipped his wine.

  “Do you want children?” It didn’t feel forward to ask. They weren’t dating. She was just curious.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “I already told you I’m the product of a chance meeting between a double bass and a saxophone. I grew up like a stream of notes in the air. I don’t think I finished an entire year of school in the same place. I certainly never did homework or ate square meals or tried out for a team. I wouldn’t have the first clue about raising a child.” His eyes sparkled, still squinting slightly against the low rays of sunlight. “So, it’s lucky I’ve never wanted to try.”

  “You are lucky. It’s kind of pathetic how badly I used to want one. And when I married my second husband, who was also keen to have a child, we couldn’t get pregnant. We tried day in and day out for months on end.”

  She reached for her glass and swiped a sip. Ugly memories rolled over her. “He blamed me. We had me tested and everything looked fine, but he wouldn’t get tested himself. One day we just stopped having sex. He said he didn’t want children anymore.”

  Louis listened with compassion in his eyes.

  “After that, he started staying out a lot. I dressed up in all the lacy lingerie I could find, but he just wasn’t interested. ‘Working late,’ he said, but I soon found out different. And that’s when I left him.”

  Louis whistled. “What a jerk. He didn’t know how lucky he was just to have you.”

  Sam shrugged. “Or not. Apparently I couldn’t give him what he wanted.” Goose bumps sprang up on her arms and she raised her hands to rub them. “Tarrant appreciated me just for being me. And, oh, boy, was I grateful for that after my first two husbands.”

  “Finally, you found the father who gave you the love and approval you wanted.” Louis looked steadily at her.

  Sam recoiled from his suggestion. “No! It wasn’t like that at all.”

  “Did you have sex?”

  “Well, no, but... He was ill.”

  Louis made a small movement with his mouth. Like he couldn’t quite find the right words. Or maybe he could, but he didn’t like to say them.

  “He was my husband, not my father.” Her voice rose high as emotion snapped through her.

  Louis simply nodded. “And you were a good wife to him. Every man should be
so lucky.”

  Samantha didn’t offer any sign of acknowledgment. She didn’t need his condescension. She had been a good wife.

  “I’m not mocking you.” Louis frowned. He scratched at something on his arm, pulling his shirt cuff up to reveal a stretch of tanned forearm.

  Not that she cared.

  He looked up at her. “You’re a very giving person. That’s a rare and beautiful thing. It’s something not everyone appreciates.”

  Sam found herself wanting to take the compliment and bask in its unfamiliar light. But she managed to resist. “Well, it’s been fun analyzing my personal failures and foibles, but let’s shine a spotlight on yours for a moment, shall we?”

  A wicked grin crept slowly across his mouth. “You’re assuming I have any.”

  Chapter Ten

  Louis leaned away and started the engine. The movement gave her an extravagant view of the thick muscles of his back under the strained cotton of his shirt.

  He wasn’t perfect. He probably had all kinds of things wrong with him.

  On the other hand, she certainly couldn’t find fault with his performance in bed. Of course, her experience in that realm hadn’t been of the highest quality.

  Until last night.

  Okay, so maybe he had the right to be a little cocky.

  His honey-toned eyes gazed at her from under thick black lashes that were wasted on a man.

  The nerve! He was flirting with her.

  She flicked an imaginary crumb off her lap. “I’m sure you’re not quite as perfect as you’d like to think you are.”

  “Probably not, but you’d have to get to know me better to find out.” He raised a brow.

  “If it turns out that you’re my husband’s son, then I hope we’ll become very close.”

  “And if it turns out I’m not, you’ll cast me aside like a used Ziploc bag?”

  A smile tugged at his sensual mouth. Sam blinked.

  What if he wasn’t Tarrant’s son?

  Then it was okay to have slept with him. She could even sleep with him again.

  A thick sensation swelled inside her and her nipples tingled. She’d never felt anything like last night. Every millimeter of her body had come alive with pleasure. A stray throb of memory stirred inside her.

  Sam dragged herself back to the present. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  Louis made a show of looking around. The sunset shone like spilled champagne over the wide, shimmering swamp.

  “I don’t see any bridge. Just a boat, with a man and a woman in it.”

  Sam glanced around. There really was nothing out there. They’d motored far away from the boathouse and there wasn’t a visible structure anywhere. Just sky and bayou, with the sun hovering at the horizon like a cherry floating in a cocktail.

  “It’s going to get dark any minute.”

  “Yes.”

  “Won’t we get lost? Or eaten alive by bugs?”

  “You’re not worried about alligators?” He cocked his head.

  Sam shivered. “Thanks for reminding me. Shouldn’t we be getting back?”

  “We could. Or we could spend the night here.” He inclined his head. A wooden structure appeared among the grasses like a mushroom sprouting. A tiny cottage of some sort, on stilts that raised it over the swamp.

  “What is it?”

  “My granddad’s fishing retreat. I renovated it a couple of years ago. It’s a lot more high-tech than it looks. I’m embarrassed to say that there’s even solar-powered air-conditioning.” He shot her a wry smile.

  She stiffened. “I’m not sleeping here. You need to take me back to the city.”

  “Why? It’s a beautiful night. You already agreed to spend the evening with me, so I know you don’t have anywhere to go. I’ve proved to you that I can keep my hands off you, and I promise to keep them to myself all night long.”

  He held up his hands and examined them, as if making sure they were going to behave. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “I don’t have any...stuff with me. Makeup remover. That kind of thing.”

  “What happens if you don’t take your makeup off?” He looked genuinely interested.

  Sam hesitated. “I have no idea. I’ve never tried.”

  “Then maybe it’s time you did. You said you wanted to step outside your comfort zone, didn’t you? And really, you can trust me.”

  Sam rubbed her arm. She felt chilly, though the air was still warm.

  “Or maybe it’s yourself you don’t trust.” He squinted against the sun’s rays, looking unbearably handsome. Somehow the fact that he knew it didn’t diminish his appeal at all.

  “It’s peaceful here. No TV, no radio, no Internet. No outside world.” The boat had somehow sidled up alongside the building, and he cut the engine.

  Water lapped against the wooden stilts holding the structure above the shimmering water. The pinkish cedar looked fresh and new, and she could smell its pungent scent, crisp and inviting amid the fecund funk of the bayou.

  The boat rocked in the water. Could it hurt to go inside for just a minute?

  “Take a look. See what you think. If you don’t like it, we’ll head back.”

  “Okay.” She could hardly believe she’d agreed, but suddenly she had to see what Louis DuLac’s special place looked like inside.

  She could tell it was special. Even from the boat, she could make out images of cranes carved right into the wood of the corner boards and the door, which gave the building a Japanese feel. Steps came down right to the water, each riser carved in a distinct shape, almost like stepping stones.

  She hesitated, wondering how to get from the yawing boat onto the solid wood of the steps.

  “Since you don’t want me to give you a hand up, I’ll pull the boat up close to the steps, and you can grab on to the railing.

  Louis leaned forward and grabbed the railing himself, then tugged the boat alongside it with the sheer strength of his body. His powerful thighs braced to hold the boat steady. “Go ahead.”

  Sam climbed shakily to her feet. She leaned out of the boat to grab the railing. True to his promise, Louis held the boat flush against the steps while she pulled herself up onto them.

  Apprehension prickled along her spine as she stood there on the steps of the only structure visible for miles around. If he turned the boat around and left, she’d be stranded.

  But he lashed the boat to a stilt with expert ease. “Go on in, it’s unlocked.”

  “You just leave it open?”

  He shrugged. “If someone’s determined enough, they’ll get in anyway.”

  Sam pushed open the smooth door, with its lovely square carving of two cranes amid tall grasses.

  “Oh, goodness.” It was beautiful. Dark golden light filled the space, streaming through a wide window on the opposite side that framed the sunset. Considering the warmth of the afternoon, the interior was wonderfully cool and comfortable.

  The plank floor invited her feet to step inside. The single room smelled of fresh, new wood. The scent of new beginnings.

  Louis came in behind her and hesitated. She shifted aside, giving him room to pass without touching her. Her skin tingled as he eased into the space, sliding by her almost close enough to touch, but not quite. His male scent mingled with the fresh aroma of cedar to push her senses into overdrive.

  She watched as he flipped a latch on the paneled wall and pulled down something like a Murphy bed. It opened to a low sofa, Japanese style, with a patterned covering of dark purple and gray. He pulled a couple of cushions out of the cavity in the wall where the sofa had been. “Take a load off.”

  Sam eased herself down onto the sofa. Its cushiony soft surface felt blissful after the hard bench of the boat. Louis moved across the room and pulled down an identical sofa on the other side. “See? No touching required. His and hers.”

  ‘This place is amazing. What else is hidden in these walls?”

  Louis beamed with what looked like pride as he
pulled open another paneled cabinet to reveal the interior of a fridge, stocked with drinks. “What can I get you?”

  “Oh, my.” Sam stretched out on the cushioned surface. Her muscles crackled as tension slipped from them. “This does feel good. Maybe a soda water.”

  The delicious whoosh of the soda bottle cap popping off made her mouth water. She took the bottle and again their fingers almost touched, but not quite. She could swear she’d felt a snap of electrical current right at the tip of her fingers.

  She smiled. He smiled back. A warm sensation stirred in her belly.

  Uh-oh.

  Get a grip, Sam. You’re probably the fourth woman he’s brought here this week. “This is quite the romantic hideaway. I’m guessing it gets a lot of use,” she said drily. She took a sip of her soda water. The bubbles crackled over her tongue.

  “I come here a lot.” He looked steadily at her. “More all the time.”

  A prick of jealousy stuck her somewhere uncomfortable.

  “But you’re the first woman I’ve ever brought here.”

  “What?” A weird shiver sprang across her skin.

  “This is where I come to be alone. Don’t get me wrong, I like people. I love the hustle and bustle of my restaurants and organizing events and bringing people together. That’s been my whole life.”

  He turned to look out the window. The sun was now a slim chip of glowing amber, resting delicately above the dark purple horizon. “Maybe I’m getting older or something.” He looked at her, humor shining in his eyes. “Who am I kidding? Of course I’m getting older. But lately, I find I need to step off the carousel and reconnect with nature. With myself.”

  He frowned, as if embarrassed by his confession. “And I thought you might like to do that, too.”

  A very strange sensation rose inside Sam. She absolutely believed him. He’d chosen her, out of all the women in the world—a good percentage of whom would no doubt be willingly at his disposal—to share his special place with.

  Without the promise of even a touch, let alone a kiss.