The Yuletide Engagement & A Yuletide Seduction (18 page)

“What do you think? Gabriel Vaughan is what happened!” Richard told her bitterly—and predictably!

Gabriel Vaughan seemed to just sail through life, sweeping away anything and anyone who should happen to stand in his way. And at the moment Richard Warner was in his way. Tomorrow, next week, next month, it would be someone else completely, any consequences that might follow Gabe's actions either ignored or simply unknown to him.

“I would really rather not talk about it, Jane,” Richard added agitatedly. “At the moment my company is in chaos, my wife is in hospital—and just talking about Gabriel Vaughan makes my blood-pressure rise! I'll tell Felicity you rang,” he added wearily. “And once again, thank you for all your help.” He rang off.

And a lot of good her help had done them, Jane sighed as she replaced her own receiver. Gabriel Vaughan had happened—who else…? What else? He was a man totally without—

Jane almost fell off her chair as the telephone beside her began to ring. Eight-fifteen. It was only eight-fifteen in the morning; she had deliberately telephoned Richard Warner this early so that she could speak to him before he either left for the office or the hospital. But she wasn't even dressed yet herself, let alone taken her run; who on earth—?

Suddenly she knew exactly who. And, after her recent calls from the Warners, and her conversation with
Richard just now, she was in exactly the right frame of mind to talk to him!

She snatched up the receiver. “Yes?” she snapped, all of her impatience evident in that single word.

“I didn't get you out of bed, did I, Jane Smith?” Gabriel Vaughan returned in his mocking drawl.

Her hand tightened about the receiver. She had known it was him—it couldn't have been anyone else, in the circumstances!—but even so she couldn't help her instant recoil just at the sound of his voice.

She drew in a steadying breath. “No, Mr Vaughan,” she answered calmly, “you didn't get me out of bed.” And, remembering what she had once been told about this man, she knew that he had probably already been up for hours, that he only needed three or four hours' sleep a night.

“I didn't—interrupt anything, did I?” he continued derisively.

“Only my first coffee of the morning,” she bit out tersely.

“How do you take it?”

“My coffee?” she returned, frowning.

“Your coffee,” he confirmed, laughter evident in his voice now.

“Black, no sugar,” she came back tautly—and then wished she hadn't. In retrospect, she could think of only one reason why he would be interested in how she liked her first cup of coffee of the morning!

“I'll make sure I remember that,” Gabriel Vaughan assured her huskily.

“I'm sure you didn't call me to find out how I take my coffee,” Jane snapped, sure that he remembered most things.

Except that other her, it seemed.

But how long would that last? Three years on, and not only did she look different, she
was
different, but Gabriel Vaughan had a very good reason for remembering everything that had happened three years ago, leading her to believe that his memory lapse where she was concerned would not continue. She had no doubt there would be no flirtatious early morning telephone calls then!

“You're wrong there, Jane Smith,” he murmured throatily now. “You see, I want to know everything about you that there is to know—including how you take your coffee!”

Jane's breath left her in a shaky sigh, her hand tightening painfully about the receiver. “I'm an extremely boring individual, I can assure you, Mr Vaughan,” she told him abruptly.

“Gabe,” he put in smoothly. “And I very much doubt
that
, Jane,” he added teasingly.

She didn't care what he doubted. She worked, she went to bed, she ran, she shopped, she read, she worked, she went to bed Her life was structured, deliberately so. Routine, safe, uncomplicated. This man threatened complications she didn't even want to think about!

“Are you aware that Felicity Warner is in hospital, in danger of losing her baby?” she attacked accusingly.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the telephone line. Very short, only a second or two, but Jane picked up on it anyway. To her surprise. Three years ago nothing had deterred this man. And she couldn't really believe that had changed in any way.

“I wasn't aware that Felicity was pregnant,” he finally rasped harshly.

“Would it have made any difference if you had
known?” Jane scorned disgustedly, already knowing the answer to that question. Nothing distracted this man away from his purpose. And she couldn't help feeling that he had been playing with the Warners by accepting their dinner invitation two evenings ago…!

“Any difference to what?” he returned in a silkily soft voice.

“Let's not play games, Mr Vaughan.” She continued to be deliberately formal, despite his earlier invitation for her not to be. “You have business with Richard Warner, and that business appears to be affecting his wife's health. And that of their unborn child,” she added shakily. “Don't you think—?”

“I'm not sure you would like to hear what I think, Jane Smith,” Gabriel Vaughan bit out coldly.

“You're right—I don't,” she snapped tersely. “But I think it's way past time someone told you about your lack of thought for the people lives you walk into and instantly dismantle! Your method of dealing with people leaves a lot to be desired, and—” She broke off abruptly, feeling the icy silence at the other end of the telephone line as it blasted its way in her direction. And at the same time she realised she had said too much…

“And just what do you know about my ‘method of dealing with people', Jane Smith?” he prompted mildly—too mildly for comfort!

Too much. She had said too much! “You're a public figure, Mr Vaughan.” She attempted to cover up her lapse.

“Not in England,” he rasped. “Not for several years,” he added harshly, all his previous lazy charm obliterated in cold anger.

“Strange; I'm sure I saw your photograph in my daily
newspaper yesterday morning…” she came back pointedly; she had to try and salvage this conversation as best she could; she'd already been far too outspoken.

The last thing she wanted to do was increase this man's interest in her! Ideally, she would like him to forget he had ever met someone called Jane Smith, but she would settle for disinterest—which wasn't going to be achieved if she kept challenging him!

“Of course, that was a social thing,” she added lightly. “You were a guest at a party.”

“I'm a sociable person, Jane,” he drawled dryly. “Which was actually the reason for this call…”

He was going to ask her to cater a dinner party for him! There was no way she could work for or with this man. Absolutely no way!

“I'm very heavily booked at this time of year, Mr Vaughan,” she told him stiffly: Christmas was now only two weeks away. “My diary has been full for weeks, some of those bookings made months ago. However, I could recommend another catering firm who I'm sure would be only too pleased to—”

Gabriel Vaughan's husky laugh cut in on her businesslike refusal. “You misunderstood me, Jane,” he murmured, that laugh still evident in his voice. “I was asking you to have dinner with me, not trying to book your services as a cook—impressive as they might be!”

Now it was Jane's turn to fall silent. Not because she was angry, as Gabriel Vaughan had been minutes ago—where had that anger gone…? No, she was stunned. Gabriel Vaughan was asking her for a date. Impossible. He just didn't realise how impossible that was.

“No,” she said abruptly.

“Just—no?” he said slowly, musingly. “You don't even want a little time to think about it?”

She doubted too many women had to do that where this man was concerned; he was handsome, single, undoubtedly rich, sophisticated, witty—what more could any woman want?

All Jane knew was that she did not want Gabriel Vaughan!

“No,” she repeated sharply.

“Then I take it I was right earlier in assuming there's someone else in your life,” he dismissed hardly, a chill edging his tone.

Jane frowned. When earlier in this conversation had he assumed there was already someone else in her life? They hadn't even touched on the subject.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she snapped.

“It's occurred to me, Jane, that you have an unhealthy interest—as far as Felicity goes—in Richard Warner's affairs. And I don't just mean his business ones!” he added harshly.

“You're disgusting, Mr Vaughan,” Jane told him angrily. “Other women's husbands have never held any appeal for me, either!” She deliberately threw his words to Felicity two evenings ago back in his face, then slammed down the receiver, immediately switching on the answer machine.

She didn't think Gabriel Vaughan was the sort of man to ring a woman back when she had angrily terminated their telephone conversation, but on the off chance that he just might she had no intention of answering that call herself.

He had just implied she was having an affair with Richard Warner!

How dared he?

“W
E MEET
again, my dear Jane Smith.”

Jane froze in the act of placing the freshly baked meringues onto the cooling tray, closing her eyes briefly, hoping this was only a nightmare. One that she would wake up from at any second!

But closing her eyes achieved nothing, because she could smell his aftershave now, and knew that when she turned Gabriel Vaughan was going to be standing only feet behind her. Could it only be coincidence that this was the second dinner party in a week that she had catered for where Gabriel Vaughan was a guest…?

She opened her eyes, straightening her shoulders before turning sharply to face him, her heart missing a beat as the total masculinity of him suddenly dominated the kitchen in which she had worked so harmoniously for the last four hours.

She was realising that he was a man who wore a black evening suit and white shirt with a nonchalance that totally belied the exclusive cut of the expensive material. He was vibrantly attractive, in a way that stated he didn't give a damn how he looked, that he was totally confident of his own masculinity, the challenging glitter of those aqua-blue eyes daring anyone to question it.

To her dismay, Jane realised that was probably exactly
what she had done two days ago when she had turned down his invitation to dinner!

She gave a cool inclination of her head. “You mentioned that you're a sociable person,” she dismissed coldly.

“And you,” Gabe returned mockingly, “mentioned how busy you were for the next few weeks.” He shrugged. “The mountain came to Mohammed!”

Her eyes narrowed warily. Could this man possibly have—? No, she couldn't believe he would go to the extreme of having himself invited to a dinner party she was catering simply so that he— Couldn't she…? Hadn't the hostess this evening telephoned her earlier this morning and apologetically explained that, if it wasn't going to be too much of a problem for her, there would be two extra guests for dinner this evening. Was Gabriel Vaughan one of those guests…?

“I see,” she murmured noncommittally. “I hope you're enjoying the meal, Mr Vaughan,” she added dismissively.

But Gabe wasn't to be dismissed, leaning back against one of the kitchen units, totally relaxed—at least, on the surface; he must have been as aware as she was that the last time the two of them had spoken she had slammed the telephone down on him!

“I am now,” he assured her huskily, looking at her admiringly. “That's quite a temper you have there, Jane Smith.” There was an edge of admiration in his mocking tone as he too recalled the abrupt end of their telephone conversation two days ago.

Jane returned his gaze unblinkingly. “That was quite an accusation you made—Gabriel Vaughan,” she returned, undaunted.

He smiled. More of a grin really, deep grooves beside his mouth, teeth white against his tanned skin. “Richard wasn't too happy about it, either,” he murmured with amusement.

Her eyes widened, the colour of rich sherry. “You repeated that—that ridiculous accusation to him?” she gasped disbelievingly.

“Mmm,” Gabe acknowledged ruefully, his gaze lightly mocking. “Tell me,” he continued consideringly, “what
do
you do for exercise?”

She shook her head, totally amazed at this man's insulting conversation; he didn't even try to be polite!

“I run, Mr Vaughan,” she snapped angrily. “And I really can't believe you were so insensitive as to have repeated such an accusation to Richard, at a time like this—”

“Felicity is out of hospital, you know.” Gabe straightened, not as relaxed as he had been; in fact he looked slightly defensive, the challenging look back in his eyes.

As it happened, Jane did know—but she was surprised he did. She hadn't actually gone in to see Felicity when she was in hospital, but she had telephoned the hospital to pass on her well wishes, and she had called Richard every day to check on his wife's condition, relieved when she'd spoken to him this morning and heard that the doctor considered Felicity well enough to go home, the miscarriage in abeyance. For the moment. But surely if this man continued his hounding of Richard—and throwing out obscene accusations—that may not last…!

“How long for?” Jane scorned. “When do you intend making your next assault on Richard's company?” she added disgustedly.

“I don't assault, Jane,” Gabe drawled derisively. “I acquire companies—”

“By going for the jugular of the owner!” she accused heatedly. “Look for the weakness, and then go for it!”

Gabe looked completely unmoved by her accusation. But those aqua-blue eyes had narrowed and a pulse was beating in his clenched jaw. Maybe he wasn't as completely lacking in compassion as she had believed…

No, she couldn't believe that. Three years ago he had been completely ruthless, totally without compassion. It had been his behaviour then that had turned an unbearable situation into a living hell. It was the very reason she had reacted so strongly to Felicity and Richard's situation. For all the good that had done her—Gabriel Vaughan had taken her emotional response and immediately jumped to the conclusion that she must be having an affair with Richard!

“Every company has its weak spot, Jane,” Gabe mocked now. “But I only acquire the ones that are of interest to me.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I don't wish to alarm you, Jane, but there appears to be smoke coming from—”

Her second batch of meringues!

Ruined. Burned, she discovered as she quickly opened the oven door and black smoke belched out into the kitchen.

“Don't be a fool!” Gabe rasped harshly, pushing her none too gently out of the way as she would have pulled the tray from inside the oven. “You open the kitchen door, and I'll throw the tray out into the garden.” He took the oven-glove from her unresisting fingers. “The door, Jane,” he prompted again firmly as she still didn't move.

Damn the man, she muttered to herself as she finally went to open the door. She couldn't remember the last time she had burnt anything, let alone in the middle of a dinner party. But this man had disturbed her so badly that he had achieved it quite easily. She was losing it, damn it. Damn him!

“Out of my way, Jane,” Gabe instructed grimly, going past her to throw the blackened meringues, and the tray, out into the garden.

Jane watched wordlessly as the burnt mess landed outside in the snow. Yes, snow. Somewhere, in the midst of what was turning out to be a terrible evening—the second in a week—it had begun to snow, a layer of white already dusting everything, the overheated tray sizzling and crackling in the coldness.

“Where do you run?”

She turned back to look at Gabriel Vaughan, dismayed at how close he was to her as they both stood in the open doorway, blinking up at him dazedly, the coldness of their breath intertwining. “The park near my apartment. Why?” She frowned her sudden suspicion at the question.

His gaze remained unblinkingly on her own. “Just curious.”

She shook her head, outwardly unmoved by his closeness, but inwardly…! But if she moved away he would merely realise how disturbing she found it to be standing this close to him. And as far as she was concerned he already had enough of an advantage—even if he wasn't aware of it!

And he could keep his damned curiosity to himself! Not that it really mattered; he had no idea where she
lived, and so consequently he wouldn't know which park it was, either!

“By the look of this snow—” she looked up into a sky that seemed full of the heavy whiteness “—I won't be running anywhere tomorrow morning.” Her morning run in the nearby park cleared her head and set the tone for the rest of her day, and finding Gabriel Vaughan there, accidentally or otherwise, would totally nullify the exercise!

“A fair-weather runner, hmm?” Gabe drawled derisively.

Her brows rose indignantly over wide sherry-brown eyes. “I don't—”

“Ah, Gabriel, this is where you've been hiding yourself,” murmured a husky female voice. “What on earth is that dreadful smell?” Celia Barnaby, the hostess of the evening, a tall, elegant blonde, wrinkled her nose at the smell of the burnt meringues that still lingered in the kitchen.

Gabe looked down at Jane, winking conspiratorially before turning to stroll across the kitchen to join his hostess. “I believe it was dessert, Celia,” he drawled laughingly, taking a light hold of her arm as he guided her back out of the kitchen. “I think we should leave Jane alone so that she can do her best to salvage it in peace!”

“But—”

“I believe you were going to tell me about the skiing holiday you're taking in the New Year?” Gabe prompted lightly, continuing to steer the obviously reluctant Celia away from the disaster area. “Aspen, wasn't it?” He glanced back at Jane over the top of the other woman's head, his smile one of intimate collusion.

“Damn the man,” Jane muttered to herself as she set about “salvaging” and she didn't have a lot of time to do it. Her two helpers for the evening were now returning with the empty vegetable dishes, as the main course had just been served.

By the time she had finished arranging the meringues and fruit on the plates, lightly covering the latter with a raspberry sauce, no one would ever have guessed that there should actually have been two meringues on each plate.

Except Gabriel Vaughan, of course. But then, he was the reason for the omission; if she hadn't been busy fending off his questions then this disaster wouldn't have happened. She was just too professional, too organised, for this to happen under normal circumstances. But with Gabriel Vaughan once again present it was far from normal!

In fact, she was slightly on edge for the rest of the evening, kept half expecting Gabriel Vaughan to stroll back into the kitchen unannounced; it just didn't seem to occur to him that the dinner guests weren't supposed to just stroll about the homes of their host or hostess, let alone go into the kitchen and chat to the hired help! That was his inborn arrogance, Jane decided derisively; Gabriel Vaughan would go where he wanted, when he wanted.

And he would also say exactly what he pleased, even if it was insulting!

She couldn't even imagine what Richard Warner must be thinking about the other man's accusations concerning the two of them. It was so ludicrous it would be laughable in other circumstances. As it was, she could imagine that Gabe's words that Richard “wasn't too happy” about it
were definitely an understatement where Richard was concerned!

It was extremely late by the time she had tidied away the last of the dishes from the meal, and she had to admit she was exhausted. But not from physical work; it was due entirely to tension. Unfortunately, she didn't manage to make her escape before Celia Barnaby came through to the kitchen, the last of her guests having finally left.

And it was unfortunate, because Celia wasn't one of Jane's favourite people. She was a beautiful divorcee, who had obviously only married her weak husband for the millions she had been able to take off him as part of their divorce settlement. Jane found her brittle and condescending, altogether too jaded.

Nevertheless she smiled politely at the other woman; she didn't have to like the people she worked for; it certainly wasn't conditional to her supplying the superb food she was known for. If that condition had applied two years ago, when she'd first begun this exclusive service, then she would have been out of work within a month!

Celia arched shaped brows. “Have you and Gabriel known each other long?” she enquired lightly.

Jane gave her a startled look. This woman certainly didn't believe in the “lead up to” approach! “Known each other long…?” she repeated dazedly. The two of them didn't know each other at all!

“Mmm,” Celia drawled. “Gabriel explained to me that the two of you are old friends.”

“He—!” Jane broke off, swallowing hard. “He said that?” She frowned darkly.

“Don't be so coy, Jane.” The other woman gave her a knowing smile. “I always thought you were a bit of a dark horse, anyway. And I've never understood why you
became a brunette; did no one ever tell you blondes have more fun?” she drawled suggestively, looking disparagingly at Jane's hair.

Jane was totally stunned. By all that this woman had just said. For one thing, she was surprised this woman had ever spared her a second thought. And she was rendered speechless by that comment about blondes.

The change of colour and style to her hair, she had felt two and a half years ago, had been an important part of the new her. It wasn't only Gabriel Vaughan she didn't want recognising her; it wouldn't do for any of the people she worked for to realise she had once led a similar lifestyle to their own, either, and so the change in her appearance had served a double purpose. Until this moment she had thought the disguise worked, always took care to have her hair coloured once a month. Before now no one had ever told her they knew she was really a blonde!

On top of that Gabriel Vaughan's claim that the two of them were “old friends” was just too much. Almost a week's acquaintance did not make them old friends—and she wouldn't term them as friends anyway!

Unless Gabriel Vaughan did remember her from three years ago, after all, and he was just playing with her…?

“Not very long, no.” She woodenly answered Celia's original question.

“Pity.” Celia grimaced her disappointment at her answer. “I wondered what his wife had been like. You did know he's been married, didn't you?” She looked at Jane fron beneath lowered lashes.

Oh, yes, she knew he had been married, Jane acknowledged with an inward shiver. The death of Gabriel
Vaughan's wife had only added to the spiralling out of control of her own life!

“Yes,” Jane confirmed abruptly. “And surely you saw her photograph in the newspapers at the time of the accident?” She seemed to be having trouble articulating; her lips felt stiff and unmoving. It was so long since anyone had talked about these things…!