Against the Wall

by Lyn Stone

  Champagne flowed freely, and the music was a generational mix that added even more sparkle to the gathering. Jack was impressed with the surroundings.

  Solange had grown up wealthy, he noted. And probably coddled. The creature comforts, he could provide for her, but his job would require that he be away from home much of the time. What kind of offer would that be?

  Of course, he had no business offering her anything. She had a well-established career, a father who doted on her and most likely tons of friends who would miss her if she left.

  It was the first time Jack had consciously considered asking her to come with him when he went back to the States, but he knew now that it had been at the back of his mind since the night they made love.

  René Chari approached, switching a full glass for Jack's empty one. "You think you will be leaving soon?" he asked.

  "Very soon," Jack affirmed, taking a sip of the fresh bubbly. He wished it were Scotch.

  "Not for a few weeks, surely," René said with a sly grin. "You would not wish to miss the big wedding."

  Jack raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Who's getting married?"

  "You, if you have any sense."

  The fresh remark should have made him angry, but Jack accepted it with a nod. He understood how René felt about Solange. She had been his protector at first, and since his recovery he had come to see her as a mother figure, a damsel in distress and—given that he was seventeen and all hormones—probably entertained more than a little lust for her.

  Jack could hardly blame him for that. Except for the protective-mother image, he felt pretty much the same way about her himself.

  They both loved her. René's feelings must be nearly as strong as his own, since the boy was willing to relinquish her to Jack in hopes of her finding happiness.

  He smiled at René. "I am humbled that you think she would have me. But she'd be a fool to give up all of this, don't you think?"

  The dark eyes rolled. "At least give her the choice. Now will you go and find her? Ask her? Must I do everything?"

  Jack laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "You're a good friend, René. And a good man," he added, realizing both statements were not empty praise, but true.

  "I know. I saved my country, the whole of France," he said, "with an infant monitor." He shrugged. "I am blessed with brilliance, what can I say? Adopt me."

  The suggestion stunned Jack. For a moment he said nothing, then made a decision. "Unfortunately I can't do that, son, but I will sponsor you. Say the word. I'll see that you get a student visa and—"

  René lowered his head and looked up from beneath his heavy lashes. A smile played around his mouth. "Jack, it was a joke. I have responsibilities here and an education to complete. My father has no one else to visit him in his isolated cell and I did make him a promise."

  "You have seen him? How is he?" asked Jack.

  "Lost to reality, but this is not a bad thing in his case, I think. I must stay." He stuck out his hand to shake. "But I will be your best man."

  Jack shook his hand. "Thanks, René, but first I'll have to find a bride."

  "I know. You are wasting time," René told him as he looked past Jack's shoulder. "She is waiting. Now you must excuse me. I have arrangements to make."

  Jack turned and saw her. God, she looked so incredibly lovely. Silky hair swept across her brow and brushed the top of her shoulders. She moved with the fluid grace of a dancer. He remembered she had once considered ballet.

  She wore pale yellow, the same shade of the blouse she had worn the first time he had seen her. This time it was a slip-like gown that shimmered over her slender curves like sunlight. It begged to be touched. His palms and fingers tingled with anticipation.

  "Down, boy," he cautioned himself. "She's not yours yet."

  And might never be. As if he had called out, Solange turned slightly, and their eyes met. She smiled and turned again, this time toward the glass doors that opened to the terrace.

  Jack followed without even thinking, his gaze glued to the flow of her gown, the gleaming silk that brushed her shoulders, the pale, almost iridescent glow of her back.

  Was she a fantasy? Had he really held this woman in his arms and loved her? Would he ever do so again?

  She was facing him when he approached. The blue of her eyes seemed almost black in the dim lighting outside. She smiled up at him as his arms came around her. Her lips opened. "Oui," she said, a mere breath of a word.

  He kissed her deeply, soulfully, hoping to convey the richness of what she made him feel for her, how desperately he wanted her. When their lips parted, he gazed down at her. "Answer a question before it is asked and you take a big risk."

  "You want to make love, that is in your eyes. My answer is yes," she said, feathering her fingers through his hair.

  "In ray eyes, huh? I want you to marry me. That's what is in my heart," he said. "What's your answer to that?"

  "Our time out of time is over, Jacques. This is the real world now with practical things to consider. I do not even know where you live or your favorite color or your middle name."

  He kissed the tip of her nose. "Virginia, the blue of your eyes and Languedoc."

  "Languedoc! Please say you are joking!" She laughed as he nodded. "Then I am sorry, but I must say no! Who could marry a man with a name like Languedoc?"

  Jack grinned. "I'll change it." He hugged her. "My sunny girl, I think I have loved you from the minute I first saw you."

  "Down the barrel of your weapon? Um, you did look interested."

  "Absolutely smitten. I'm so glad you noticed."

  "Will they need another doctor in Virginia, do you think?"

  "/ need you in Virginia, I know," he replied. "Seriously, will you? Will you marry me, Solange?"

  She nodded. "Seriously, I will."

  Applause interrupted the kiss. Jack broke it off, mildly annoyed that they had an audience, a little embarrassed by the state of his body and rocked off his foundation by the enthusiasm of their friends.

  He kissed Solange's cheek, then muttered in her ear, "Where do we go in this mausoleum for a little privacy? If you expect me to wait until the wedding night, we'll have to marry right now."

  She frowned up at him. "We cannot go up the stairs. They will see us and think us rude! Besides, they would know precisely why we were going, because there are only bedrooms."

  "That's not a problem for me. I like bedrooms."

  She ignored that, then brightened. "I know! We will lead everyone back inside for a toast. Then I will come back out this way, and in a moment or two, you will follow. Meet me in the garage in fifteen minutes," she said, smiling at the crowd who had followed them out, barely moving her lips as she spoke.

  "The garage? I am not making love to my fiancée in a car!" he whispered. "There is no need for all this intrigue."

  She drew back and frowned at him, pursing her lips provocatively, her blue eyes sparkling with deviltry. "And here you have led me to believe you lived for intrigue, that you were an adventurous spirit! A quarter hour or, as you Yanks would say, 'the deal is off.' What do you say to that, Mr. 008?"

  He raised an eyebrow, loving this playful side of Solange. Hell, he loved every side of Solange. "I will consider it a mission."

  Epilogue

  "Honeymoon first is the only way to go," Jack declared. He trailed one finger over the swell of her breast and planted a kiss on the curve of her shoulder.

  The wedding could not take place for ten whole days if they married in Paris. His documents could be faxed in a matter of hours, but there were strict civil laws and a ten-day wait that no amount of string pulling had been able to waive. They had decided to honeymoon in Venice while the banns were being called, since neither of them had ever been here.

  She nuzzled the top of his head and lazily stroked his neck. "We should get out of the hotel and see the city. That is why we came here, after all."

  "You, maybe," Jack said laughing. "I could care less about gondolas and the pigeo
ns coating St. Mark's Piazza. This," he whispered, dragging a wet kiss along her neck, working his way down her lovely body, "is why I came."

  Her laugh was low and sultry. "You promised me Venetian lace for my veil," she reminded him.

  With a mock groan of surrender, he abandoned his quest and lay back against the pillows. "I guess I'll have to bribe you with souvenirs to get some cooperation here."

  Again she laughed, turning to lie half on top of him. "I have been cooperating for the last forty-eight hours! Do you never tire?"

  "Never." He grinned. "However, to tell the truth, I could use a good meal. Room service is beginning to pale and we have croissant crumbs in our bed."

  "Someone is sure to ask for photographs when we go home," she warned him. "My camera is still packed away."

  She was right. They had hardly seen anything since their arrival other than the dome of San Marco as they sailed the Grand Canal to the private dock of the Palazzo Saint Angelo Hotel. He had scarcely noticed the classical Venetian architecture of the ancient building or its elegantly appointed lobby. He had been too eager to have Solange alone at last.

  She rolled from the bed naked and teased him with a provocative sashay across the room to the bath. "Join me?" she invited, entering the palatial enclosure lined with Carrara marble and containing an enormous sunken tub.

  Ah, the memories they had made in that would stay with him a lifetime. He got up and followed to make more.

  She reclined on the edge, fiddling with the taps, swishing in bubble bath as he devoured her with his eyes. Maybe he didn't need food after all.

  "Will you mind so very much not having the others at the ceremony?" she asked. "Going through the civil one is more for my father and René than for me."

  "The team and my family will attend the church wedding after we get home. That will be a fancier deal anyway."

  She sat up and slid into the tub, swirling the water to froth it and smiling up at him. "And you must return to work soon after."

  He sighed and nodded, not wanting to think about the job. He stepped into the bath with her, sat down and settled her on his lap. "The next assignment is already underway. Will is in place now."

  "Holly must be so worried," she said with a sigh. "I must call her."

  "Holly? What do you mean?"

  "She loves him."

  Jack shook his head but didn't bother setting her straight. It would serve no purpose at the moment to deflate her romantic notions. She was in love and wanted the world to be. Solange simply didn't yet understand the special relationship of his agents to each other.

  He brushed off her notion and went on to briefly explain the mission. "We figure it will take at least two to three weeks before the rest of the team is needed for anything other than keeping tabs. Perhaps another few days to handle the aftermath. That will give you and my mother time to get to know each other and arrange the wedding. Dad can acquaint you with the hospital and get your accreditation underway. Before you know it, we'll be honeymooning again."

  He smoothed a dangling curl off her brow, then reached for the soap.

  She slid closer and embraced him. "Will the next mission be as dangerous for you as this last one?"

  He cradled her, running his hands over the wet, satiny skin of her back. "Not for me, no. But, Solange, you know what I do. You will have to accept that I might be involved in something later that—"

  "I understand," she said. "I would not change you, Jacques, any more than you would change me. I love who you are and what you are. Everything about you. 'Love is not love that alteration finds...'"

  He smiled against her cheek and kissed it. "Okay, quote me poetry, then. Get me aroused and see what happens."

  She turned her head and caught his lips with hers. The kiss was deep, soul shattering and sensual as hell. He forgot about missions and weddings and anything that existed outside that marble tub that held them.

  She drew away and looked searchingly into his eyes. "You have taught me so much, Jacques." She threaded her fingers through his hair, her touch all about love and concern, her voice soft and whispery as French silk. "I know the enormous burden you have undertaken, the scope of what you do, the thousands of lives you save. This humbles me and yet it frightens me."

  He cradled her face, cherishing the innocent, sweet earnestness he knew she would never lose. "And you, little doctor, have turned me inside out. Only a few weeks ago all I could see was the big picture and no faces. You blew my sense of detachment and isolation all to hell, you know. That's a little scary for me, too."

  "You are no longer alone, Jacques," she promised.

  * * * THE END * * *

  ISBN 0-373-27365-7

  AGAINST THE WALL

  Copyright © 2004 by Lynda Stone

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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