by Kery, Beth
She stiffened, her compassion for him fading. “It’s a common courtesy, Gerard.”
He made a conciliatory gesture with his hand, but she could tell his mind was already fastened on a different topic. “We’re all worried about his state of mind. I’m sure you are as well. I’m concerned for Ian, of course, but I’m also very worried about James and Anne. It’s like they’re living the nightmare of Helen going missing all over again.”
“Are you implying that you think that Ian is like Helen?” Francesca asked incredulously. “Gerard, Helen had schizophrenia. It’s not the same—”
“I know that. But if he’s not . . . entirely capable,” Gerard said delicately, “we’d like to see to him, get him the care he needs. You have no clue whatsoever as to Ian’s whereabouts? No hint or vague suspicion?”
“None. You know as well as I that Ian is comfortable walking every inch of this planet. He might be anywhere,” she said starkly. I am the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to me. Her heart seemed to contract at the poignant, remembered line from the Kipling poem that she had always associated with Ian, even before she had been introduced to him. Would Ian ever be able to discard that armor he wore of determined aloneness? She’d thought he could. Once. Now she doubted he could ever be free of his past.
“We never really talked in depth much when I followed him to London for a few days,” she continued quietly after a moment. “His mother’s condition occupied almost all our attention. After she died, Ian just disappeared off the map. In the beginning, I had neighbors check in at his other residences in several countries. Lin gave me the contact phone numbers. No one admitted to seeing him, though.”
A shadow passed over Gerard’s face. “Yes. We did much the same, in search for him. Upon James’s request, I went to several of his residences and hotels where he frequently stays looking for him but . . . nothing.”
She didn’t respond. Of course they’d looked for Ian. She sighed, disappointed they hadn’t learned of any crumb of information she hadn’t discovered.
“In answer to your earlier question about whether or not we’re still officially engaged, the answer is no,” she said more calmly than she felt. She met Gerard’s stare steadily. “I took off Ian’s ring when I left here months ago. I’m not engaged to him anymore. Ian didn’t need to say it out loud. His actions speak louder than words.”
His tense, worried expression gave way. He stood, surprising her by taking her hands and drawing her up to a standing position.
“I’m sorry. More sorry than you know. I didn’t mean to cause you further pain by bringing all this up.”
“It’s all right. I understand. I’ve recognized you and the others are walking on eggshells.”
“Ian was wrong for treating you the way he did. What’s more, he’s a fool for letting you go. Not only are you brilliantly talented and sweet and fresh, you’re so . . .” he paused, his mouth growing hard as he stared down at her, his gaze flickering lower over her covered breasts ever so briefly, making the already sensitized crests prickle with awareness. His hands were large and warm and encompassed her own. His body didn’t touch hers, but standing just inches apart, she became abruptly aware of his male strength. She went still when he reached up and touched a tendril of her hair.
“Beautiful,” he finished, his jaw rigid.
She inhaled his scent. She stepped away, breaking his hold on her hands and faced the fireplace mantel. She was confused by the turn of events. She wasn’t ready to consider being with another man, let alone Ian’s relative. Rationally, it seemed wrong to her, but there was something more elemental that had made her step away.
Gerard felt wrong. He smelled wrong.
She looked fixedly at the white marble mantel, her thoughts and feelings a confused, jumbled mess.
“I’m really tired, Gerard. You should go,” she managed, her back still to him. She stiffened when she felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Francesca.”
She turned and reluctantly met his stare.
“There’s nothing wrong with needing someone,” he said quietly, his nostrils flaring slightly. “There’s nothing wrong with needing. Period.”
The burn in her body had never entirely dissipated, but at this point, she knew it was foolish to think it would be truly vanquished by her own hand . . . or anyone else’s, save one.
“I know that. But sometimes the timing is wrong,” she said.
Something passed over his features. He nodded once and dropped his hand.
“I see,” he said. She inhaled a breath of relief when he stepped away from her. “I really did just come here tonight to express my concern at the idea of you going to Belford Hall. I don’t think you’re ready for something like that.”
“Really? And yet you thought I’d be ready for this?” she asked, glancing significantly at the space between them.
“No, but I’d hoped you were ready to take comfort.”
Her smile was a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. “Is that what you offered when you came here tonight?”
His expression hardened. Suddenly she saw firsthand the razor-sharp edge that had made him such a formidable businessman.
“Yes. For a start,” he said.
She remained unmoving by the fireplace, her incredulous smile a thing of the past, watching him leave the room.
Chapter Three
The next evening, Gerard and Francesca got on an elevator with Anne and James at Noble Enterprises. All of them were in a good mood, having put some satisfying work in with the mergers and acquisitions team that afternoon. The initial liquidation of assets and talks on the acquisition were going smoother than they’d expected or hoped. Of course, things could always pop up to hinder the deal, but more than likely Noble Enterprises would own Tyake soon after the New Year. Francesca was becoming so interested and self-invested in the deal, she occasionally even forgot she was doing it for Ian.
When several members of the M&A group had hesitantly mentioned going downstairs to the restaurant Fusion for the Noble Enterprises annual Christmas party, Anne had abruptly ended the meeting and shooed all of the employees down to the party.
“I hadn’t realized. Shame on Lucien for not telling us,” Anne said as the elevator sunk down to the lobby, referring to the fact that Lucien had worked with them for most of the day, but left in the early evening saying he had some business to which he needed to attend. Obviously, that “business” had been the preparation for the large corporate party at Fusion. The elevator stopped at the lobby of Noble Towers, and they got off together. A bright light went off in Francesca’s eyes.
“Get out of here, damn it,” Gerard bellowed. The man who’d snapped the photo scurried through the lobby and out the revolving door onto the street. Gerard looked furious. “Stupid photographers. Word about the Tyake acquisition has got out somehow.”
“You don’t think the press knows that Ian isn’t at the helm, do you?” Francesca asked nervously. The fact that Ian hadn’t been actively running Noble Enterprises had been a well-kept secret since he’d left. Ian was known for being the genius behind the company, after all. Public sentiment about Noble products could dip if it were known he was absent.
Gerard shook his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just good for selling papers. Everyone was always curious about Ian’s beautiful fiancée,” he said, giving her a small smile. “But Ian always kept you under tight wraps. I suppose they feel it’s their chance to splash your face across the papers.”
“Lovely,” Francesca muttered under her breath, wishing the conversation would end. She wasn’t Ian’s fiancée. She started to cross the lobby and the others followed.
“And look—the security desk is empty so the photographer had free rein. I suppose he’s at the party. I can’t believe it’s December twentieth already,” Anne murmured thoughtfully, casting a glance at Fusion’s
glass doors. “Ian always holds the party the Friday before Christmas. And here we were keeping those poor people late working.”
“I’m sure they don’t mind,” Francesca said as they crossed the granite floor, her heels clicking briskly. She’d hesitantly accessed the vast wardrobe that Ian had bought her while they’d been together, not wanting to show up for a business meeting wearing her typical artist’s costume of jeans and paint-spattered T-shirts. “It’s a relief for them to get the bulk of this under their belt before the holiday, I’ll bet.” She peered toward the glass doors of Fusion. The large bar area of Lucien’s restaurant appeared to be hopping with partiers. Something occurred to her and she paused.
“Do you mind if I meet you three at Everest?” Francesca asked, referring to the restaurant where they’d made reservations. The Nobles had insisted upon taking her to dinner to commemorate her last night in the penthouse. Now that most of the intensive work on the Tyake deal was under their belt, Francesca had announced she was returning home. Her wounds had festered far too much as it was, sleeping in Ian’s bed. “I asked Lin to send some documents we might need as references before she left for the holiday, but I forgot to tell her to send them to Belford Hall.”
Anne stopped dead in her tracks, an ecstatic expression overcoming her face. “So you are coming to us at Belford Hall for Christmas? You’ll do the painting?”
She couldn’t help but laugh at the break in Anne’s utter confidence of her plans coming to fruition. Francesca had just made her final decision about Belford Hall that very morning. Davie had decided to visit a cousin’s family in Michigan for Christmas. Although he’d tried to talk her into accompanying him, she knew she’d feel like a fifth wheel. Francesca had told him she’d decided to take Anne up on her offer. She’d once primarily considered the earl and countess as Ian’s grandparents, but she’d begun to think of them as friends. Her parents were taking a cruise for the holiday, so she had no obligation in that direction. Besides, a change of scenery would do her good, not to mention the fact that she felt about a hundred times more comfortable and at ease with Anne and James than she did her own parents. Even Gerard had gone out of his way to make her feel like she belonged. All of them had done this despite her broken link with Ian, and she appreciated their efforts so much. True, she was having a niggling of doubt about Gerard being at Belford. But hadn’t he been the one to suggest she not go to Ian’s childhood home to begin with? He couldn’t have any clear-cut designs on an English countryside seduction, given the fact that he’d warned her about going, could he? And besides, she was sure she could handle his unexpected, likely fleeting interest in her. Ian had definitely suggested he wasn’t a man to be unduly shot down by one woman’s disinterest. There were plenty of other willing fish in Gerard’s pond.
“I booked a flight for Christmas Eve. Why do you act so surprised?” Francesca teased Anne. “You’ve behaved like it’s all a done deal since you first mentioned it.”
“Yes, but it’s always nice to have even the most certain plans confirmed,” Gerard said dryly. Anne gave an impish grin and they laughed.
“Eleanor will be so thrilled that she has someone else to spoil,” Anne told James.
“Mrs. Hanson is coming?” Francesca asked.
“Oh yes. As I’ve told you, we haven’t had a do like this Anniversary Ball in ages. When we did have them more regularly, however, Eleanor was indispensable. We’ve been running on a skeleton staff at Belford, so we’ve had to hire in temporary help for the holidays to pull everything off, and we’ll need Eleanor to organize everyone. Lucien and Elise are coming as well. They arrive early on Boxing Day and have agreed to stay at Belford.”
“It sounds exciting,” Francesca said, Anne’s enthusiasm spreading to her. “There is one thing: If my goal is to do preliminary sketches while I’m there, I’ll need all my materials available when I arrive.”
“Not a problem at all,” James said, and Francesca was confident in the Nobles’ ability to acquire what she needed for the project. Both were patrons of art museums and avid collectors.
“But I’d still like you to relax a little before you begin working,” Anne said with a cautionary glance. “The New Year is soon enough to get started.”
“And there is celebrating to be done,” Gerard said, smiling. He casually placed his hand on Francesca’s shoulder. “I’ll go with you to speak to Lin. We’ll meet you two at Everest in ten minutes or so,” he said to Anne and James.
Francesca was glad her smile didn’t waver at Gerard’s suggestion. He’d been so kind to her today, so officious, and yet militantly polite and appropriate in their interactions. He was Ian’s family—a part of a unit where she’d so wanted to belong. She’d almost forgotten her discomfort over the fact that he’d tried to seduce her last night.
Or maybe I just want to forget, she told herself as he led her to Fusion, his hand still casually resting on her back.
A sinking feeling dampened her short-lived good mood when Gerard opened the glass door to Fusion. Even though she’d been the one to bring up talking to Lin, she hesitated. She hadn’t returned to Fusion since Ian had left. Not only had Ian and she frequently dined at Fusion, it was where they’d first met. It’d been a cocktail party in Francesca’s honor for winning a highly reputable commission to paint the centerpiece mural for the newly built Noble Towers. It all came back to her in a split second—she, so gauche in her secondhand-store dress, so determined to hide her awkwardness; Ian, so arresting and intense as he pinned her with those dark-angel eyes as he’d told her that he, and he alone, would designate the view for the painting.
“I suggest you see the view in question before you take undue offense, Ms. Arno.”
“Francesca,” she snapped, made a little defensive by all the sophistication and formality of the reception in her honor, not to mention his arrogant assumptions.
She saw that flash in blue eyes that reminded her of a storm on the horizon. For a split second, she regretted the edge to her tone.
“Francesca it is,” he said softly after a moment. “If you make it Ian.”
Gerard touched her shoulder, jerking her out of the vivid memory. He pointed across the bar. She saw Lin looking as elegant and glamorous as usual, and talking to a tall woman. She nodded. He took her hand and led her through the loud, animated crowd of Noble partygoers. A gorgeous Christmas tree glistened behind scurrying waiters and chatting people. A jazz trio had been hired to entertain the Noble employees. Several couples had taken to the small dance floor. She caught a glimpse of Elise in the open kitchen in the distance, her beautiful face sober in concentration as she stirred a pot and sprinkled some ingredient into it. Soon, she would finish her training here at Fusion and be a fully qualified chef, ready to open her own restaurant. The vision of her friend heartened Francesca, sending a spark of warmth through a chest that had gone cold at the memories of Ian.
Lin greeted them warmly, nodding her head when Francesca stated her mission.
“Of course I’ll send the documents to Belford Hall. Would you like me to arrange your flight for you?”
“No, of course not,” she said, her cheeks heating. Lin was Ian’s executive assistant, not one of his secretaries. Even if she had been a secretary, she cringed to think of Lin doing errands for her because of Francesca’s past association with Ian. All of that was over and done. Ian had made that clear. “I have it all arranged, thank you, though. I fly out very early Christmas Eve.”
Lin nodded, her gaze lowering fleetingly between Gerard and her. Francesca realized Gerard was still holding her hand. She gently extricated herself from his grip, trying to hide her discomfort.
“And you, Gerard? Where will you spend Christmas?” Lin asked smoothly.
“With Francesca at Belford,” Gerard replied, smiling at Francesca. “I wouldn’t miss James’s and Anne’s Anniversary Ball for the world.”
Francesca tried to tamp
down the sudden anxiety she felt when a quizzical, concerned glance flickered across Lin’s features before she gave her usual warm smile, and wished them both a happy holiday.
* * *
When they’d started out jogging, the cool December air had been chilly. Now it felt wonderful against her heated skin.
“You were right,” Davie said as he ran next to her down North Avenue. The usually busy thoroughfare was clogged with holiday traffic as people prepared for Christmas in three days. “This weather is perfect for a jog.”
“Plus, it always makes you feel good to be on your feet when you see traffic like that,” Francesca said, grinning.
Davie glanced at her face and did a double take. He smiled when Francesca gave him a quizzical look.
“It just took me by surprise. It’s nice to see you smile again,” Davie said.
“Thanks. I’m looking forward to Christmas, which comes as a bit of surprise. I was far from being able to say that two weeks ago.”
Davie nodded as he searched her profile for a moment. “Do you think you’re getting over Ian?” he asked quietly.
Her smile faded. The void in her chest cavity ached as she focused on it. She didn’t speak for a moment as they approached a cross street, keeping her gaze averted from Davie’s. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ‘over’ Ian. I doubt I’ll ever be able to . . . you know. Feel about anyone the way I did him,” she said, purposefully avoiding the loaded word.
Love.
