by Janet Dailey
But that was what he had done, Alisa mused silently. Of course, the contract was for only one year with no option for renewal. "Paul," she leaned forward, her face earnestly expressing her desire for him to answer her next question, "how … how close were they?"
His tanned cheeks darkened with additional colour as he turned away from her gaze. "I don't imagine Zach had to marry her to get what he wanted that way." His troubled glance moved back to study her face. "Alisa, this is past history, something we shouldn't even be discussing. Zach is married to you now. It's all over between him and Renée."
"What if … what if I told you it wasn't?" There was a shimmering film of pain in her blue eyes that Alisa wasn't even aware of.
"You can't be serious. Zach would never do that to you. I know he comes on strong, sometimes cruelly hard, but no matter how much running around he's done in the past, I just can't see him doing it when he's married." With incredulous disbelief Paul reached over and covered Alisa's hand. "Believe me, Alisa."
"I wish I could, Paul. It's terribly humiliating to me, thinking that…" She stopped. She almost sounded jealous, she thought. That was ridiculous. She was just angry that Zachary would carry on like that right under her nose. "You've seen how often she comes to the winery, Paul. She never stops at the house. She only goes to the winery where Zachary is."
"Have you talked to him about this?" Paul asked.
"He refuses to discuss it with me." A hint of her former coldness crept into her voice as she stared down at her hands. "I needed to talk to someone about it. I have no one else to turn to except you."
"You know the way I feel about you, Alisa. Nothing's changed in that. I almost wish it were true about Zachary and Renée. If things get too rough for you, you can always call on me, any time, any place."
"This party, Paul, is it very important?" Alisa asked after smiling her thanks for his offer. "I mean, I'm not looking forward to going."
"You'll have to go, Alisa. It would be an enormous insult to the Gautiers if you refused. They invite only a few select people, and to turn down an invitation would be the worst thing that you could do."
"It was a thought." If the party was that important Alisa knew Zachary would drag her there by the hair. There was no alternative except to go and try to show up Renée.
"I have to go, Alisa. But remember, you can call me any time." Paul rose, still holding her hand firmly in his.
"I will, Paul Thank you for being here," taking the utmost comfort in looking at the open concern in his blue eyes as they gazed into hers.
Chapter Eight
ALISA adjusted the full-length gilt edged mirror in its free-standing frame, then stepped back to survey her reflection. After spending nearly an entire day in San Francisco, in and out of the best shops in the city, she had finally found the gown she was looking for to wear to the Gautiers' party tonight. Although she tried to appraise herself critically now, Alisa couldn't keep the glow of triumph from lighting her blue eyes.
It was an original creation, aptly titled 'Pièce de Résistance'. The rich, shimmering midnight blue cloth clung suggestively over her body enhancing the longlimbedness of her legs and accenting her pale golden hair as the midnight sky highlighted the moonlight. But it was the style most of all that had drawn Alisa, daring, sensuous, and elegant all in the same evening gown. Dipping low in the back, the front was a plunging halter opening. The full curve of her breasts was never exposed, yet its existence was accentuated with boldness. Never before had Alisa worn anything that made such a display of her body. But it would certainly overshadow anything Renée would wear, and that was her aim.
From the bed, Alisa picked up the matching three-cornered shawl. Its vee back discreetly concealed the bareness of her skin while the other two corners could be drawn through a beautiful rhinestone ring to conceal the daring plunge in the front. Her shoes were silvery, sparkling delicate heels that dressed the slenderness of her ankle.
Alisa wished that Christine were here to admire the new gown with her. But, rather than impose on Nora to stay in the house with Chris, Alisa had allowed Chris to spend the night with one of her new school friends, and her little sister had been quite content with the decision, looking upon it as a grown-up adventure.
Gathering up her rhinestone-beaded handbag, Alisa cast one last look at her reflection, smoothed the sides of her pale hair where it was swept on top of her head into a sophisticated array of curls. She had heard Zachary leave his room several minutes earlier and knew he must be downstairs waiting for her. He was just closing the door to his den when she made her way slowly down the staircase, feeling his eyes watching her progress but refusing to meet his gaze. When he walked to the bottom step to take her arm, Alisa raised her head coolly towards him, silently admiring the white dinner jacket perfectly tailored to set off the wide shoulders and narrowing waist. He, too, was formidably attractive this evening.
"My wife does me honour this evening." There was an irritatingly sardonic tone in his voice that for a moment dampened Alisa's pleasure. But the obvious compliment in his dark eyes as he inclined his head towards her soon rose her spirits again.
"You look very stunning yourself," Alisa returned, a slight lift to her eyebrow as she spoke. "Are we ready to leave?"
They proceeded out the door to the car in silence. It wasn't until Zachary had pulled out of the lane on to the main road that he initiated further conversation.
"This won't be an ordinary cocktail party. The guests will be fellow vintners like myself and their families, who over the years have become close friends with Louis Gautier. Only wine will be served," Zachary explained quietly, his eyes leaving the road only occasionally to glance at Alisa to make sure she was listening to him. "And then probably only champagne. It's a very important tradition in the Gautier family, one that's been carried down from the first harvest season. It's both a solemn and a festive celebration. I would hope you'll treat it as such and not indulge in any scenes."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Alisa smiled easily. "But I do hope our host's daughter agrees with you."
"I wouldn't worry about Renée," Zachary said grimly.
Alisa would have liked to make an appropriate retort, but they had already reached their destination. One glance at the imposing house told Alisa that if she had thought Zachary's home resembled a comfortable country estate, this was truly a mansion. The low rambling, red-tiled roof meandered over a wide-spreading home; the immaculate lawn was a landscaper's dream; the whole effect was one of continuous affluence. Zachary parked their car in a large paved parking lot already half filled with other cars of people who had already arrived. There seemed no further need for conversation as they walked the short distance from the car to the ornately carved doors of the main entrance. The door was opened almost the instant they reached it. A uniformed servant ushered them into a large room filled with expensive Louis XIV furniture and priceless antiques. Their host and hostess were just inside the door welcoming their guests as they arrived.
"Zachary, how good of you to come," Louis Gautier greeted him happily, grasping Zachary's hand and shaking it enthusiastically.
"You know we wouldn't have missed your celebration. It's as much a part of the vintage season as the grapes," Zachary replied, inclining his head deferentially.
"Mrs. Stuart," Louis turned his head to welcome Alisa, taking her hand to touch it lightly with his lips in a continental salute. "How exquisitely lovely you look this evening. Your dress is the colour of my Pinot Noir grapes when they reflect the velvety hue of our clear blue skies. The very grapes from which I make my champagne wine."
"I'm flattered," Alisa murmured, warmed by this gallant and charming man.
"Let us hope my champagne turns out to be as alluring and as temptingly delicious as your gown," Louis bowed in return.
"I'm sure, Louis," Zachary broke in, his hand resting lightly on the shawl covering Alisa's back, "that you're overrating my wife's gown and underrating your wine."
"I w
ould prefer that they both be the pièce de résistance," Louis replied with courtly politeness. "Would you care to remove your wrap, Mrs. Stuart?"
"What a coincidence that you should use that phrase," Alisa remarked, removing the rhinestone ring that held the shawl in place. "That is the exact name of this creation."
A sparkling light gleamed admiringly from the older man's eyes as the blue shawl slipped down on Alisa's shoulders. There was a barely perceptible sound to her left which brought her gaze to it. Renée, regally resplendent in a red velvet gown, was staring at her with open hatred. A haughty, triumphant glance touched fleetingly the corners of Alisa's mouth as she boldly met the malevolent stare.
"I believe it's you, Zachary, who have underestimated your wife," Louis said quietly, drawing her attention to the man towering over her on her right side.
"Perhaps I have," Zachary stared down at her, his eyes masked in a light that was blacker than his dark hair and impossible to read.
Another group of guests arrived and Zachary and Alisa wandered into the room. Strangely, Renée was nowhere to be seen. Alisa realized her victory had been only in a minor skirmish and the rest of the evening stretched ahead of her. She had expected Zachary to make some comment about her gown, but he never referred to it. Except during introductions to various couples, he hardly even glanced at her, which was difficult to understand. Only the admiring looks from the male members of the party assured Alisa that her gown was vastly becoming even though her own husband seemed unmoved by its daring décolleté.
The soft melody played by an accomplished string quartet located in the far corner of the room came to an end. There was a brief hush in the crowd as Louis Gautier walked to the centre of the room. With an aristocratic assurance that was accented by his distinguished appearance, he paused for their undivided attention. Then he lifted a tulip-shaped glass in front of him. It was an obvious signal, for almost immediately a group of dark-suited waiters appeared carrying trays of similar glasses that were passed around to the guests.
"Ladies and gentlemen." His resonant voice didn't raise an octave, still it carried to the farthest corner of the room. "Tonight marks the end of another vintage, the success of which we have come to celebrate. The cultivation of wine grapes began in California two hundred years ago by Spanish missionaries. Since that time, the vineyards and wineries have combated disease, the uncertainties of Mother Nature, and the Congress in Washington, D.C. with their law of Prohibition." There were quiet chuckles and nodding smiles at his statement. "But we withstood them all, we vignerons and the grape. Today we compete with the very best wines all over the world. Let us lift our glasses this night to the time when our sparkling California champagne captures the delicacy typical of its European namesake." There was a tinkling of glasses as all raised theirs in salute. "To our California wine," Louis toasted proudly.
"That is a concession that is only made in the presence of fellow vintners," Paul whispered from behind Alisa. "In public, no one will admit that our California wine is not as good or better than those from Europe."
The effervescent liquid tingled down her throat as Alisa turned to greet Paul. Zachary watched with indulgent aloofness as if assured that he had no reason for concern that Paul was a rival. His indifference irked Alisa and she turned her most charming skills on Paul.
"I was looking for you, but I didn't see you come in," Her eyes seemed a deeper blue with the reflection from her shimmering gown.
"I saw you the minute I entered the room," Paul answered, his eyes devouring her appearance. "You look absolutely ravishing this evening."
One of Zachary's acquaintances came up to claim his attention, though he still watched Alisa with amusement dancing in his eyes.
"What do you think of the little gathering?" Paul asked.
"Terribly formal, isn't it?" Alisa laughed, glancing around at the richly gowned women and the elegantly groomed men.
"Winemaking is an extremely traditional and serious business," he smiled, following her glance around the room. "Notice the men. See how they swirl the wine in their glass, sniffing the bouquet before they allow the liquid to touch their mouth, studying the colour obtrusively in the light. Only the very best of the Gautier champange is served tonight. This is a group of true connoisseurs gathering to pay homage to one of their peers."
Alisa was barely listening to him. She was watching Renée slowly winding her way through the crowd in their direction or more correctly in Zachary's direction. Her arms curled possessively around his left arm as she edged herself between Zachary and Alisa, her face upturning provocatively towards his as she murmured her greeting. Alisa watched in almost furious silence as Zachary gazed down at Renée, his eyes travelling admiringly over her gown and face. Their interchange was spoken so softly that Alisa couldn't hear what was being said. The man previously talking to Zachary moved discreetly away, which irritated Alisa even further. At last, Renée fluttered a hand up to his cheek before releasing her hold on his arm and making a swirling turn away from him. She met Alisa's gaze for a brief moment, her dark eyes flashing with an unmistakable challenge.
"Don't let her get to you," Paul prompted from her side.
Alisa turned with a start, then smiled apologetically at the diversion of her attention. "I try not to," she sighed.
"Try not to what?" Zachary asked, mockingly meeting her frigid glance. "I noticed you didn't say hello to our host's daughter."
"I notice she didn't say hello to me," she answered sharply. "But then she was too busy gazing into my husband's eyes to see me, wasn't she?"
"Was she? I didn't notice," Zachary answered, calmly sipping from his glass.
Paul glanced uncomfortably from one to the other, while Alisa took a larger gulp from her glass.
"I wouldn't drink the champagne quite so quickly," Zachary advised quietly. "It's likely to go to your head."
Rebelliously Alisa drained the glass and motioned to one of the waiters for another which he quickly supplied. Her hand trembled slightly with her anger as she held the new glass stiffly in her hand.
"Zachary!" Renée called gaily, moving quickly through the crowd to where the trio stood. "Papa said we could begin dancing now." Her voice carried clearly over the drone of conversation from the other guests. "I have chosen you to be my first partner."
"With your permission," Zachary inclined his head towards Alisa, the wickedly mocking smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"And if I refuse?" She spoke in a voice just loud enough for him to hear.
"Then you would be creating a scene." There was a slight underscoring of the word "you" as he answered in the same quiet voice.
Alisa was left with no choice except to nod her permission for Zachary to partner Renée. But she refused to meet the triumphant glitter in Renée's eyes, choosing instead to turn towards Paul and smile as if nothing at all was wrong. Try as she would, though, Alisa couldn't keep her gaze from straying to the dance floor where the couple danced exceedingly close together, their feet moving slowly around the floor. When the song ended, Zachary didn't return to her side. Instead he squired other female guests on to the dance floor, never once approaching Alisa. Twice she danced with Paul, smiling with false sweetness at Zachary when they neared him and his partner on the floor.
Alisa had finished another glass of champagne and was just about to light a cigarette when her host walked up to ask her to dance. Zachary was on the floor again–with Renée. Alisa quickly accepted Louis Gautier's invitation, discovering he was an extremely accomplished dancer whose fluid movements easily matched with hers. There was a great deal of applause for them from the guests when the song ended. Louis had just insisted on repeating the dance when Zachary tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
"I haven't had the privilege of dancing with my wife yet this evening, Louis. Do you mind?"
Louis sighed expressively before bowing formally to Alisa and stepping away.
"I didn't think you'd noticed," Alisa declared sarcastical
ly as Zachary's hand touched the bare skin of her back. "Or was it a case of pleasure before duty?"
"You catch more bees with honey than vinegar," Zachary replied, taking her hand in a vice-like grip as he firmly guided her to match his steps.
"But then who would want to be stung by a bee?" Alisa said sharply. She was irritatingly aware that he held her apart from him. There was none of the intimate closeness of touching bodies when he danced with her. Even when avoiding another couple on the floor, he managed to do so without drawing Alisa closer to him.
"With some people, the bee doesn't sting."
"Like Renée?" Alisa asked.
"Renée could be one." Zachary smiled mysteriously at her, his gaze roving almost indifferently over her face.
"You didn't mention whether you liked my gown," Alisa went on, nodding towards Louis, who was dancing with his wife.
"Didn't I? It's very nice. A little daring for you, though," Zachary jeered, taking amusement at the quick flash of anger in her eyes.
"How would you know?" she retorted, just as the song ended. She would have walked away except that his hand still maintained its hold on hers. He solemnly escorted her to the edge of the dance floor where Paul was standing.
"You've been quite determined to keep me at arms' length, remember, Alisa," Zachary smiled.
He nodded towards Paul, then moved off to claim Mrs. Gautier for the next dance. Alisa walked away from the floor with Paul following anxiously behind her. A waiter offered her a glass of champagne which she accepted. Paul offered her a cigarette, lit it for her, and watched while she puffed it angrily.
"Alisa…" he began hesitantly.
"I will not be treated like this!" she exclaimed, her angry eyes glaring back at the dance floor to see Renée breaking in on Zachary and her mother. "I will not be some piece of baggage that can be set aside whenever he chooses and remembered when he feels it's his duty!"
