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“Yes,” Laura told him, suddenly enjoying herself. “There’s a miniature train ride that goes through the park and there’s this huge elevated train exhibit that has these tiny replicas of the streetcars and historic buildings and landmarks around New Orleans. It’s like a mini-version of the city. Come on, I’ll show it to you.”
Laura showed him the train exhibit. She showed him Storyland. She showed him the vintage rides in the Carousel Gardens, sadly pointing out that several were no longer working because of the damage they’d sustained in the storm. She showed him the gallery of Christmas trees decorated with handmade ornaments made by local schoolchildren that lined the walkways of the Carousel Gardens. Finally, she showed him her favorite part of the exhibit—the antique wooden carousel. “It’s more than a hundred years old,” she told him and explained how the severity of the storm and the exposure to water had left the carousel inoperable. “I know it doesn’t look all that great now because the paint is faded and chipped and so much of the gilding still needs to be redone, but you should have seen it before the storm. It was beautiful.”
“I’m sure it was. It’s amazing it even survived the storm.”
“It’s a miracle. I just hope they’ll be able to get the funds they need to restore it. Since the park doesn’t get any state or federal funding, the only money for repairs has to come from donations and admissions. With the population half of what it was pre-Katrina, there’s less money.” She sighed. “It would be such a shame if other little girls and boys never got to ride on it like I did.”
“Boys, don’t run,” a harried-looking and very pregnant woman called out to the twin boys wearing green jackets and matching hats who were streaking toward them. “Please, would you catch them for me?”
“Whoa,” Jack said, reaching out and corralling them. “Hey, buddies, what do you say we wait for your mom?”
“You’re big,” one of the boys said. “Are you a Saints football player?” he asked, referring to the city’s beloved team.
“Afraid not. But you guys are so fast, I bet you could play for them when you get big.”
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said as she reached them. She smoothed a hand over her stomach. “Their little sister makes keeping up with them harder than it used to be.”
“Not a problem,” Jack told her. “We were just chatting about football. I think you’ve got yourself two running backs in the making here.”
The woman laughed and ruffled their heads. “Their daddy would love that. In fact, he’s home watching Sunday-night football right now. I must have been out of my mind to not make him come with me.”
“We’re going to see The Cajun Night Before Christmas exhibit,” one of the boys said.
“Are you now?” Jack replied.
Both boys nodded. “It’s supposed to be just like the book. If you want to see it, you just need to follow this road.”
“Over there?” he asked, pointing in the direction they’d indicated.
“Yeah.”
Still hunkered down beside the boys, Jack lowered his voice and said, “You know, I could have sworn I saw one of Santa’s elves hiding up in one of those trees over there.”
Both boys’ eyes grew wide as they looked toward the trees. “Really?”
Jack nodded. “I figure they must be here, checking out the boys and girls and reporting to Santa which ones are extra good. You boys might want to walk with your mom so they can tell Santa how good you two are.”
“Come on, Mom. You’d better hold our hands and take it slow.”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t run. You might trip or something,” the other twin added.
“Thanks,” the woman mouthed as she and her sons headed in the direction of the trees with the elves.
“That was really sweet of you. I’m sure their mother was very grateful,” Laura told him, touched by his actions.
“Hey, I was telling the truth. I think I did see an elf in those trees,” he said, smiling once again.
“Which tree?”
“That one right over there,” he said and, grabbing her by the hand, he brought her several yards back from the road and pointed up to a huge oak. “That one. I saw a pair of little green eyes peeking out of those branches.”
Laura peered up at the branches in question. “I don’t see anything,” she told him and when she turned to look at him, the smile dissolved on her lips. He was still holding her hand and he was watching her with an intensity, with a longing, that stole her breath.
She didn’t know how it happened. She didn’t know if he took another step toward her or if she moved toward him. Then his mouth was on hers. The kiss was gentle, slow, just a simple brushing of lips against lips. Then she felt the tip of his tongue. Sighing, she opened her mouth to him. Heat exploded inside her and just when her senses hit overload, he was easing back, ending the kiss. Still dazed and wondering why he had stopped, she heard the voices. A family was approaching on the path near them.
“I didn’t think you would want an audience,” he said simply.
He was right. She wouldn’t and it embarrassed her that she had been so engrossed in the kiss that she hadn’t heard them. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. For a moment there, I considered not stopping,” he told her as he brushed his thumb along her jaw.
Confused and shaken by his effect on her, Laura stepped back and in doing so pulled her hand free. She walked back over to the carousel to take another look at it before leaving.
Jack followed and stopped beside her. “So tell me about the carousel.”
“What do you want to know?”
“About the history of it. How long it’s been here. How old you were the first time you came to see it.”
Laura filled him in on the history, or as much of it as she knew. She told him how it had been her grandfather who had first brought her to see it. “I was four at the time,” she told him. “My mom was married to Jeffrey Baxter, the soap star, then, and we were living in California. She had just had Chloe and was finding a four-year-old and a newborn a lot to handle. So she sent me down here to visit my grandfather. I was feeling a little homesick, so he took me to see the Christmas lights in the oaks to distract me. And the minute I saw the carousel, I fell in love with it.”
“Which one was your horse?” he asked.
Laura looked over at him, surprised at his perceptiveness. “The palomino over there, with the red saddle,” she said, pointing out the horse she had always ridden. “I named him Pegasus.”
“The flying horse, huh?” he remarked because it was one of the horses crafted with its legs in flight.
“Yes,” she said and laughed at herself. “I really did think he could fly. In fact, I had myself convinced that the carousel was enchanted and that when everyone left for the night all the horses and animals would come to life.”
“Ever test your theory?”
“Yes,” she admitted proudly and smiled at the memory. “When I was six, I snuck away from my grandfather just before closing time and went and hid in the carousel house.”
“What happened?”
“None of the carousel animals came to life, but everyone else did. My grandfather and the security guards and staff were looking for me. My grandfather thought I’d been kidnapped and everyone was upset. I got in a lot of trouble with my granddad and wasn’t allowed to have any desserts or treats for an entire week after that.”
He let out a whistle. “No desserts for a week? That must have been really tough,” he said, but from the grin on his face, it was clear he didn’t think it had been tough at all.
“Trust me, it was torture,” she assured him with a laugh. “I’d have sooner given up my favorite doll than give up dessert for a week.”
“Have a sweet tooth, do you?” he teased.
“I was six,” she pointed out. Then recalling how his appearance had caused her to hit her candy stash, she amended her answer by saying, “I’ve gotten better.” But the memory of why she’d hit the candy stash in the first place brought reality crashing back. The man she had been sharing such tender moments with was Jackson Hawke. Her enemy. The man who was trying to foreclose on her hotel. The man with whom she’d made the crazy bet and agreed to sleep with if she lost. “It’s getting late. I’d better see about getting a taxi and heading home.”
“What about the rest of the exhibit?” he asked.
“I think we’ve seen everything.”
“What about that new one—that Cajun story one.”
“The Cajun Night Before Christmas. It’s an animated children’s story by a local author and artist. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be interested,” she said honestly. In fact, she wouldn’t have thought he’d be interested in any of the exhibits, but he’d seemed to genuinely enjoy himself. And if she were honest, she had enjoyed sharing them with him.
“I wouldn’t have thought I’d be interested, either, but I am.”
The man confused her. He was a mass of contradictions. Just when she had him pegged as a rich and arrogant man who would wager a fifteen-million-dollar note against a night with her in his bed, he spendt an evening looking at Christmas lights with her and listening to stories about her childhood. On the one hand, she despised the businessman who threatened to take away a part of her heritage. On the other hand, she liked the kind man who had been so gentle with the little boys and considerate of their mother. She liked the man who had laughed with her, the man who had made her first visit to the carousel since her grandfather’s death a happy one.
“Laura?”
The sound of him calling her by her first name snapped her out of her reverie. “Yes?”
“You zoned out there for a minute. Either that or I shocked you into silence. Which is it?”
“Both,” she admitted.
“So what do you say? Do you want to see that other exhibit with me?”
Laura hesitated. Spending more time with this man wasn’t a good idea, she told herself. She was beginning to like him, feel drawn to him. The last thing she could afford was to lose her focus when the Contessa was at stake. “I think I’ll pass. But you go on ahead.”
“Maybe another time, then,” he said. “I’ll head back to the hotel.”
But when the taxi arrived, Jack insisted on sharing it with her. He also insisted the driver take her home first. Once they reached her place and she’d tucked her share of the cab fare into his hand, she said, “Good night.”
He touched her arm. “Laura?”
She paused, turned to face him. “Yes?”
“Thanks for tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
And in the morning, he would be her enemy again, she reminded herself as she quickly exited the taxi and raced up the steps to her house.
Five
Seated in the dining room of the Contessa Hotel, Jack kept his eyes trained on the doorway and awaited the arrival of Chloe Baxter. Fitzpatrick had managed to locate Laura’s half sister—in New Orleans, where she had been since Thanksgiving weekend. Funny how Laura had failed to mention the fact that her sister was visiting. But then, she had studiously avoided him since that night they’d gone to see the Christmas lights in the park. On those occasions when their paths had crossed, she had been all business. It was as though the woman he had laughed with and kissed in the park had never even existed.
Only he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that woman. It was difficult for him to look at her and not remember how sweet she had tasted, how good she had felt in his arms. Even more difficult was wondering if his stepbrother was the personal business she’d left town for two days ago. Jack closed his fist around the glass of Scotch as he considered that possibility. According to the detective, there had been no record of Peterson booking a flight in or out of New Orleans last weekend. But knowing Peterson’s tastes and ability to manipulate, he could just as easily have gotten someone to fly him in on a private plane. Maybe one of his rich college buddies or someone in the moneyed crowd his father was so tight with. Or maybe even one of the corporate idiots that Peterson had conned into backing his political run.
Or maybe he’d been wrong and Peterson had never been in town after all. Had Laura gone to see him? It certainly would explain her sudden leave on personal business. According to Fitzpatrick Investigations, she had booked a flight to San Francisco with a stop in L.A., and there were no hotel reservations anywhere in her name. But then, why would she need a hotel room if she was sleeping with his stepbrother?
A white-hot anger seethed inside him at the image of Laura with Peterson. He tossed back a swallow of Scotch, but it did nothing to soothe the gnawing in his gut. If she was with his stepbrother, it wouldn’t be for much longer, he assured himself. He knew through his sources in the financial arena that her attempt to secure a personal loan from the bank by pledging her own stock as collateral had been turned down. With only twenty days left on the thirty-day proviso, she was running out of options quickly. Once the designated time to cure the default was up, the hotel—or at least eighty percent of its stock and the controlling interest in it—would belong to him.
And so would Laura.
He would win their bet. And once he had her in his bed, he would wipe any trace of his stepbrother from her body, from her mind, from her soul.
Jack frowned. He was competitive. No one did what he did for a living without possessing a strong competitive streak. The truth was he enjoyed a challenge, thrived on taking risks. The higher the stakes, the more exciting he found the game. And he’d be lying to himself if the thought of taking Laura from Peterson didn’t appeal to him on a very personal level. It did.
But it was more than that, Jack admitted. Even before he’d known about her connection to his stepbrother, she had set his competitive juices flowing and his hormones into a state of lust. Just remembering how she’d looked that night in the Carousel Gardens with her cheeks flushed, her eyes filled with desire and her body taut sent adrenaline pumping through his system. She’d been like some wild creature and every male hormone in his body demanded that he capture and possess her.
Disturbed by the admission, Jack shoved the images from his mind. Laura had been right. Making that bet with her had been crazy. He had been crazy. To offer the note he’d paid fifteen million dollars for against a night with her in his bed had been insane. It didn’t matter that she stood little chance of winning the bet. The fact that he had even agreed to the terms had been flat-out reckless. Worse, it had been the act of a man making a decision guided by his hormones instead of by sound business sense.
So why did you do it, Hawke?
Because he wanted her. And he fully intended to have her.
“Would you like another Scotch, Mr. Hawke?”
Jack glanced down at his empty glass, then up at the waitress who stood at his table. Dressed in a crisp black-and-white uniform and wearing a name tag with Tina written on it, she gave him a friendly smile. Reasoning that he had no farther to travel than the elevator to his room, he said, “Sure.”
“I’ll be right back,” she told him and wove her way through the busy restaurant toward the kitchen.
Shaking off his disturbing thoughts about Laura, Jack glanced around the restaurant. There was a nice crowd, he noted. Laura’s decision to open the dining room on weeknights to draw from the local business clientele leaving work had been a smart move. So had extending the dinner hours on the weekends. Both were moves he would have implemented himself. Some well-placed advertisements and a few local TV and radio spots to capitalize on the popular chef’s affiliation with the Contessa would fill the remaining tables. He made a mental note to discuss a series of print and TV ads with Laura. Of course, that was assuming she agreed to stay on as general manager when she lost the bet.
The bet.
Had Laura been thinking about those stakes as much as he had? he wondered. That kiss they had shared had given him a glimpse of what it would be like between them. Even now he wondered how the night might have ended had he not played the gentleman and ended it when he had.
“Here you go,” the waitress said as she placed the Scotch in front of him.
“Thanks.” Jack started to take a sip, then decided against it. Instead, he picked up the knife on the place setting before him. Made of quality stainless steel, he noted as he traced the blade with his fingertip. It was also sharp enough to cut his finger if he wasn’t careful. A lot like Laura, he thought—attractive, of excellent quality and dangerous if a man wasn’t careful.
He was always careful, Jack reminded himself. Putting aside the knife, he checked his watch. Thirty minutes late. Evidently, punctuality wasn’t one of Chloe Baxter’s virtues, he decided. He was just beginning to wonder if the woman would be a no-show when he spied the striking blonde in the doorway. At first, he wouldn’t have pegged her for Laura’s sister. On second glance though, he noted the shape of her eyes and the long legs were very much like Laura’s. She was a real head-turner, Jack thought as the hostess led her toward his table. Judging by the number of appreciative male looks cast her way, he wasn’t the only one who thought so. He stood as she approached. “Ms. Baxter,” he said and extended his hand. “I’m Jackson Hawke.”
She shook his hand firmly. “Mr. Hawke,” she said in a voice that had a smoky tone to it.
Once she was seated, he asked, “Would you care for something to drink?”
She looked up at the waitress, smiled. “I’d love a glass of merlot.”
Jack ordered a bottle from a select vintage and once the waitress was gone, he said, “I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me.”
Amusement lit her hazel eyes. “We both know that I came here in exchange for your promise that you’d schedule a meeting with Meredith Grant to discuss her company, Connections.”
“Yes. And I have to say, your request surprised me. As an actress, I would have thought you would have traded for an introduction for yourself to a producer or casting director. After all, I do know several. But instead, you asked for something for a former stepsister. Why is that?”
“Meredith’s my sister. Just because our parents divorced doesn’t mean she and I stop being sisters. And contrary to what most people think, not all actresses are self-centered divas. Meredith has been trying for months to get an appointment with you and your office keeps turning her down.” She sat back in her seat, crossed her legs and met his gaze. “When you called and asked me to meet with you, I saw an opportunity to get her that appointment and took it.”
Jack nodded. “I appreciate your candor, Ms. Baxter.”
“Then I hope you’ll appreciate that I intend to have you book that meeting with Meredith before I leave here today.”
“I’ll book the meeting—just as long as both you and Ms. Grant understand that I’m not interested in a matchmaking service.”
“Connections does more than matchmaking,” she told him. “It connects people for business reasons, too. That’s what Meredith wants to meet with you about.”
“Very well, Ms. Baxter. I’ll keep my promise and book the meeting with Ms. Grant,” he assured her. “In exchange, you promised to listen to my offer and hear about my plans for the hotel with an open mind. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” she replied. “And the name’s Chloe.”
