The Yuletide Engagement & A Yuletide Seduction (19 page)

“Didn't everyone? Such a scandal, my dear,” Celia said with obvious relish. “Jennifer Vaughan was so beautiful it made every other woman want to weep!” she added disgustedly. “No, I know what she looked like, Jane; I just wondered what she was really like. I never actually met her, you see; I didn't know Gabriel in those days.”

Jane had never met Jennifer Vaughan either. But she had come to fear her, and the effect of her beauty.

“I can't be of any help to you there, I'm afraid, Celia,” she dismissed coolly, wanting to make good her escape now, and it had little to do with the lateness of the hour. All this talk of Jennifer Vaughan; it was unnerving! “I've only met Gabriel since the death of his wife, too.” She was deliberately economical with the facts.

For herself she didn't care if Celia knew she and Gabriel Vaughan had only spoken for the first time a few days ago, but to tell the other woman that, in the face of Gabe's contradictory claim, would only arouse the other woman's curiosity even more. And that she didn't want!

“Oh, well.” Celia straightened, obviously realising she wasn't going to get much information out of Jane. “It was a marvellous meal this evening, Jane,” she added offhandedly. “You'll send your bill through, as usual?”

“Of course,” she nodded, and, as usual, Celia would
delay paying it for as long as possible; for a woman with millions, she was very loath to pay her bills.

In fact, Jane had thought long and hard before agreeing to cater this dinner party. Celia could be extremely difficult to work for, and with the added problem of her reluctance to pay…

In view of the fact that Gabriel Vaughan had turned out to be one of the guests, she wished she had followed her instincts and said no, Jane told herself as she left the house, a blast of icy snow hitting her in the face. It was—

“Here, let me take that for you.” The box of personal utensils was plucked out of her hands, Gabriel Vaughan grinning at her unconcernedly over the top of it. “Hurry up, Jane,” he encouraged as she stood rooted to the spot, stunned into immobility by his presence. “It's still snowing!” he pointed out dryly, his mouth twisting derisively as he stated the obvious.

In actual fact, it was snowing heavier than ever, everywhere covered with it now, although luckily the roads looked to be clear. But it wasn't the snow or the conditions of the road that bothered her. What was Gabriel Vaughan still doing here? She'd thought he'd left some time ago.

She hoped Celia, inside the brightly lit house, didn't see the two of them outside together! Although, having spoken to Jane, and realising how little she actually knew about Gabriel Vaughan, the other woman had seemed to lose interest. Jane just hoped that Celia hadn't questioned Gabe in the way she had her—or mentioned the curious fact of Jane's dyed hair!

“Come on, Jane,” he urged impatiently, both of them
having snowflakes in their hair now. “Open up your van, where it's at least dry!”

She moved automatically to unlock the door and climbed inside, only to turn and find Gabe sitting in the passenger seat beside her. And looking very pleased with himself, too, his smile one of satisfaction now.

“What are you doing here?” Jane snapped irritably; she really had had enough for one night.

His mouth twisted derisively. “That's a pretty blunt question, Jane,” he drawled.

“I'm a pretty blunt person—Mr Vaughan,” she bit out caustically. “You see, I thought we had said all we have to say to each other earlier.”

He leant his head back against the seat as he gave her a considering look. The snow had melted on his hair, making it look darker than ever in the light blazing out from the house. “What have I ever done to you, Jane, to provoke such animosity? Oh, I'll accept you don't like my business practices,” he continued unhurriedly before she could make a reply. “But you said yourself—and Richard confirmed it—that you aren't involved with him, and Felicity didn't give me the impression the two of you are big buddies either, so what is the problem you have concerning my business dealings with Richard? You don't give the impression of someone who takes up a campaign against injustice on someone else's part—in fact, just the opposite!” He looked at her through narrowed lids.

Jane stiffened at this last statement. “Meaning?” she prompted tautly.

He shrugged. “Meaning you don't seem to me to be a person that likes to draw attention to yourself. That, like me, you prefer to shun the limelight.”

Her mouth twisted at the latter description. “That sounds a little odd coming from someone whose photograph recently appeared in the daily newspapers!” There had been yet another mention of him yesterday after he'd attended a charity dinner. Thankfully, she hadn't reacted to it in the way she had the other morning, and she had managed not to spill any of her coffee, either! “But then, you did mention that you're a sociable person!” she added mockingly.

Again he gave her that considering look, very still as he sat beside her. “Believe it or not, Jane, I hate parties,” he finally drawled. “And dinner parties are even more boring; whoever your dinner companion for the evening turns out to be, you're stuck with them! And this evening I was stuck between Celia and a woman old enough to be my grandmother!”

In fact, Jane knew, the elderly lady he was referring to was actually Celia's grandmother, a titled lady that Celia considered of social value. But as she was aged in her seventies, and slightly deaf, it was only too easy to guess why Celia had seated Gabe as she had; given the choice between talking to an elderly, slightly deaf lady and the beautiful Celia, Gabe would be sure to spend the majority of the evening talking to Celia herself. Except for those ten minutes or so when Gabe had joined Jane in the kitchen.

“You hide your aversion to dinner parties very well,” Jane told him dryly.

“You know exactly why I was at Richard and Felicity's that evening,” Gabe rasped. “Would you like to hear why I was here tonight?” He quirked dark brows challengingly.

She looked at him, recognising that challenge, and
suddenly she knew, in view of Celia's call this morning concerning two extra guests, that Gabe's reason for being here tonight was the last thing she wanted to hear!

“It's late, Mr Vaughan.” She straightened in her seat, putting the key in the ignition in preparation for leaving. “And I would very much like to go home now,” she added pointedly.

Gabe nodded. “And exactly where is home?” he prompted softly.

She glanced at him sharply. “London, of course,” she answered warily.

Gabe's mouth twisted wryly. “It's a big place,” he drawled. “Close to one of the parks, I imagine— Your running, Jane,” he explained at her sharp look. “But couldn't you be a little more specific?” he coaxed softly.

No, she couldn't; her privacy was something she guarded with the ferocity of a lioness over her den! And her apartment was her final point of refuge.

“You're a very difficult woman to pin down, Jane Smith,” he murmured at her continued silence. “No one I've spoken to about you seems to have any idea where you live. Clients contact you by telephone, bills are paid to a post office box number, there's none of the usual advertising on the side of your van—in fact, it's unmarked.” He shook his head. “Why all the secrecy, Jane?”

Jane stared at him with wide sherry-coloured eyes. He had talked to people about her? Tried to find out where she lived? Why?

“Why?” he repeated questioningly—making her aware that she had spoken the word out loud. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Jane Smith?” he asked her huskily, suddenly much closer in the confines
of the van. “And your damned elusiveness only makes you all the more intriguing!” He was so close now, the warmth of his breath stirred the wispy strands of her fringe.

She couldn't move, was held mesmerised by the intensity of those aqua-blue eyes, was transfixed by the sudden intimacy that had sprung up between them. “Jane—”

“I don't think so, Mr Vaughan.” She flinched away from the caressing hand he laid against the nerve pulsing in her throat, straightening again in her seat, moving away from him as she did so. “Now, would you please get out of my van?” she said angrily—not sure if that anger was directed at him or herself.

Had she really almost felt tempted to let him kiss her, as his warm gaze had promised he wanted to do as he'd moved closer to her? That would have been madness. Not only for her personally, but it would have threatened every vestige of peace she had built for herself over the last two years.

Gabe didn't move, frowning across at her. “Was I wrong, and you are involved with someone? Is that why you protect your privacy so fiercely?” he rasped.

And why she flinched away from letting him kiss her? He didn't say the words, but the question was there anyway. Jane realised that, to him, a man used to getting what he wanted, and having any woman he wanted, her aversion to him had to have some explanation. Whereas the real reason for her aversion to him would probably send him into shock—before another emotion entirely took over!

“No,” she assured him dryly.

Blue eyes narrowed. “No man,” he mused. “How
about a woman?” he added as if the thought had just occurred to him.

Jane gave a slight laugh. “Or woman,” she added, with a derisive shake of her head.

He shrugged. “You never can tell.” He excused his own grasping at straws. “Look, Jane, I've been completely open with you from the first. I like you. I was drawn to you from the moment—”

“Please don't go on,” she cut in coldly. “You're only going to embarrass me—as well as yourself!”

Anger flashed briefly across his face, his jaw hardening, and then he had himself under control again, relaxing as he smiled that slow, charming smile. “I'm rarely embarrassed, Jane. And you don't get anywhere without asking,” he added huskily.

She shot him a chilling look. “Most men would be gracious enough to accept what is definitely no for an answer!”

“Most men,” Gabe nodded. “But I've invariably found that it's the things worth persisting for that are worth having,” he teased lightly, before glancing out of the van window. “The snow appears to be getting heavier, so perhaps you should be getting home.” He reached for the door handle. “Take care driving home, won't you?” came his parting shot.

She always took care, in everything that she did. And one of the biggest things she had taken care over was avoiding any possibility of meeting this man over the last three years. But now what she had always dreaded had happened; he had found her. And, for some inexplicable reason, he believed he was attracted to her!

He had tried to find her three years ago. He had pursued her until she had felt she couldn't run any longer,
when the only answer had seemed to be to shake off all that she was, all that she had been. And with those changes—her name, her appearance—she had finally been able to make the life for herself that she had been searching for. How ironic, after all that had happened, that she should have Gabriel Vaughan to thank for making that possible!

But how long would it be, Jane wondered with a sinking heart as she drove home through the treacherous snow conditions, before Gabe saw through what was, after all, only a superficial disguise, and that attraction he believed he felt towards her turned into something much more ugly…?

“I
HAVE
no idea what you said to him, Jane,” Felicity announced happily, “but whatever it was I thank you for it!”

Jane had called in to see Felicity two days after Celia Barnaby's dinner party, having no bookings for that day and, having decided long ago that, no matter how good it was for business to have so many bookings in the run up to Christmas, she also needed a certain amount of time off. It would do business absolutely no good whatsoever if she should collapse under the strain.

There were plenty of other things she could have done with her day off, but she was very conscious of the fact that she hadn't actually visited the other woman since her discharge from hospital, and so she had called in after lunch.

But she couldn't actually say she liked the turn the conversation had taken once the two women were sitting down with a cup of tea. “I'm sorry, Felicity.” She shook her head. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” She gave a vaguely dismissive smile, appearing outwardly puzzled—she hoped. Inwardly she had an idea she knew exactly who “him” was, even if she wasn't too sure what Gabriel Vaughan had done now. The one thing she was absolutely sure of was that whatever it was, she didn't come into it!

Felicity gave her a teasing smile, still taking things easy after the scare earlier in the week, although she certainly looked glowing enough this afternoon. “From what Richard told me,” Felicity grinned, “I got the impression you had told Gabe exactly what you thought of him!”

Jane could feel the warm colour in her cheeks. “Only from a business point of view,” she confirmed reluctantly.

Felicity raised auburn brows. “Is there another point of view?”

“Not as far as I'm concerned, no,” Jane told the other woman flatly.

“Whatever,” Felicity accepted, giving Jane's arm an understanding squeeze. “I'm not going to pry,” she assured her huskily. “All I know is that instead of buying Richard out, and basically taking over the company, Gabe has agreed to financially back Richard until the company is back on its feet again.”

“Why?” Jane frowned; it sounded too good to be true to her. There had to be something in it for Gabriel Vaughan.

“Richard asked him the same question.” The other woman nodded knowingly. “And do you know what his answer was?”

She couldn't even begin to guess. Didn't really want to know. But she had a feeling Felicity was going to tell her anyway!

“I have no idea,” she shrugged.

The other woman smiled. “Gabe said it was because of something someone had said to him. And the only ‘someone' we could think of was you!”

Jane didn't believe that anything she could have said
to Gabriel Vaughan could possibly have made any difference to his sudden change of plans where Richard's company was concerned. There had to be another reason for it. Although she very much doubted Gabe would decide to let any of them in on what it actually was. Until he was ready to, of course!

“I don't think so, Felicity,” she said dryly. “Although I'm glad, for both your sakes, that he's decided to back off.” And she sincerely hoped, for Felicity's sake, that he didn't as quickly change his mind back again! “But if I were Richard I would make the agreement legally binding as soon as possible,” she added derisively.

“Already done,” the other woman assured her happily. “Gabe has his own legal team, and between them and Richard's lawyer they tied the deal up very neatly yesterday afternoon. I can't tell you how much better I feel, Jane.” Felicity sighed contentedly.

Jane could see how much more relaxed the other woman was; she just wished she felt the same way!

Unfortunately she didn't. As she drove back to her own apartment she was filled with disquieting feelings. Why had Gabriel Vaughan, when he had seemed so set on taking over Richard Warner's company, suddenly done an about-face and come to a much less aggressive agreement with the other man?

Jane refused point-blank to believe it had anything to do with what she had said to him! The man was simply too hardened, too ruthless to be swayed by such things as human frailty in Felicity's case, and emotional accusations in hers. She should know!

So it wasn't the best time in the world, with her thoughts confused and worried, for her to arrive back outside her apartment, her arms full of the food shopping
she had done on the way home, to find a huge bouquet of flowers lying outside her apartment front door!

For one thing the flowers, whoever they were from—and she had an uneasy feeling she knew exactly who that might be!—were completely unwelcome. She had made a decision, after the pain and disillusionment she had suffered three years ago, that no man, apparently nice or otherwise, would ever get close enough to her again to cause the complete destruction of her life that she had known then.

For a second thing, how had the flowers got all the way up here to her apartment in the first place? This was supposed to be a secure building, and her apartment on the fourth floor—laughingly called the penthouse apartment—could only be reached by the lift and fire-stairs. In which case, any flowers that had been delivered to the building should have been left downstairs in the vestibule between the outside door and the security door, a door that could only be unlocked by one of the four residents.

So just how had this bouquet of flowers arrived up here outside her door…?

“The lady in apartment number three let me in.” Gabriel Vaughan rose to his feet from the shadows of the hallway where he had obviously been sitting on the carpeted floor, walking slowly towards her. “A very romantic lady,” he explained as he drew level with an open-mouthed Jane, dressed casually in denims and a black shirt, the latter worn beneath a grey jacket. “She was only too happy to let me in when I explained I was your fiancée from America, and that I had come over to surprise you!”

Jane was still stunned at actually seeing him standing
here in the hallway, let alone able to take in what he was actually saying.

But the words finally did penetrate her numbed brain, and with that comprehension came anger at the way he'd managed to trick his way in. And she was already angry enough that he was here at all! This was her home, her private sanctuary, and no one invaded it. And certainly not Gabriel Vaughan.

Never Gabriel Vaughan…!

She looked at him with coldly glittering eyes. “Take your flowers, Mr Vaughan,” she bit out in a heavily controlled voice, “and—”

“I hope you aren't about to say something rude, Jane,” he cut in mockingly.

“And yourself,” she finished hardly, breathing deeply in her agitation, two spots of angry colour in her cheeks. “And leave. Before I call the police and have you thrown out!” she added warningly as he would have spoken. “I have no idea how you found out where I actually live, but—”

“I've hired a car for my stay over here; the weather was so bad the other evening, I decided to follow you home, to make sure you got back okay,” he explained softly, his eyes narrowed on her as he saw all too easily how angry and upset she was.

He might be able to see it, but he was also going to hear it! “Your behaviour, Mr Vaughan, is bordering on harassment,” she bit out tartly. “And if it continues I certainly will make a complaint to the police.” Even as she repeated that threat, she knew that she would do no such thing.

The police had been involved three years ago, calling at her home, poking and prying into her personal life,
into Paul's life— There was no way she would willingly open herself up to that sort of turmoil again, and certainly not with Gabriel Vaughan once again at its centre!

Gabe gave a pained grimace. “I only wanted to make sure you got home safely in that awful weather,” he excused challengingly.

Jane glared at him. “I don't believe you! And after I've explained your other behaviour I don't think the police would either!”

“Aren't you taking this all a little too seriously, Jane?” He attempted to cajole her, shaking his head teasingly.

He had followed her home the other evening so that he knew where she lived, had tricked his way into her apartment building today on the pretext of bringing her flowers but actually so that he could be here waiting for her when she got home; no, she didn't think she was overreacting at all!

“Evie—the lady in the apartment below,” she explained impatiently at his puzzled look, “may have found your actions romantic, Mr Vaughan…” The other woman had been trying to find out from Jane for months if there was a man in her life; Evie was involved with a married man herself, which was how she was able to live in the apartment she did. “I, on the other hand,” Jane added hardly, “find them completely intrusive. If I had wanted you to know where I lived then I would have told you!”

His mouth twisted ruefully. “Don't you have any sympathy at all for a lone male in a foreign country?”

Jane gave him a disgusted look. “Not when that ‘lone male' could have women queuing up outside his door to keep him company!”

He raised dark brows. “I prefer to choose my own female company,” he drawled.

“Me?” Jane sighed scathingly.

“In a word—yes,” Gabe nodded. “Jane, you're bright, funny, independent, run your own very successful business, and you're very, very beautiful,” he added huskily.

She swallowed hard. It was so long since any man had spoken to her like this, had told her she was beautiful. It had been her decision, she accepted that, but why, oh, why did that man now have to be Gabriel Vaughan?

“As opposed to?” she prompted dryly, sure she couldn't be that unique in his acquaintance.

He grimaced. “Oh, undoubtedly beautiful,” he conceded. “But also vacuous, self-oriented, self-centred, and usually having no other thought in their head other than marrying a rich man. So that they can continue to be vacuous, self-oriented, et cetera, et cetera,” he concluded harshly.

He had just, from what little Jane knew of the other woman, exactly described the woman who had been his wife—Jennifer Vaughan, she'd been tall, beautiful, elegant—and totally selfish!

Jane sighed, closing her eyes briefly before looking at him once again. “Gabe—”

“That's the first time you've dropped the Mr Vaughan.” He pounced, sensing some sort of victory. “Do you have the makings of dinner in here?” He took the two bags of shopping out of her arms before she could stop him, looking in at the contents. “Spaghetti bolognese,” he guessed accurately seconds later. “I could make the sauce while you see to the pasta,” he offered lightly.

“You—”

“Let someone else cook for you for a change, Jane,” he prompted determinedly. “I make a mean bolognese sauce,” he promised her.

She did a mental inventory of her apartment as she had left it a couple of hours ago: tidy, comfortably so, but also impersonal, no incriminating photographs, absolutely nothing to show the woman she had once been…

And then she brought herself up with a start. She wasn't seriously contemplating taking Gabriel Vaughan into her home, was she?

That was exactly what she was thinking!

What magic had this man worked on her that she could even be considering such an idea? Perhaps it was that “lone male” remark, after all…? She, of all people, knew just how miserable, how desolate loneliness could be…

“No standing around just watching me work once we're inside,” she warned as she picked up the flowers before unlocking the door and going inside.

She strode through, giving him little time to look around her open-plan lounge. The large kitchen was wood-panelled, with herbs and spices hanging from the ceiling, pots and pans shining brightly as they hung from hooks placed over the table in the centre of the room—an old oak table that she had bought in an auction at a manor house, its years of constant use meaning it was scored with cuts and scratches, some of which Jane had added herself in the last year.

“Exactly as I imagined it,” Gabe said slowly as he looked around admiringly.

How he had “imagined it”…? Since when had he started imagining what her home looked like?

“Since that first night at Felicity and Richard's.” He lightly answered the accusing question in her eyes. “You can tell a lot about a person from their home.”

Which was probably the reason why she never brought anyone here! She didn't want anyone to be able to “tell” anything about her—

“This is the kitchen of a chef,” Gabe announced happily, starting to unpack the shopping bags. “Everything you could possibly need to cook.” He indicated the numerous pots and pans. “The knives all sharp.” He pulled one neatly from the kniferack. “And a bottle of red wine—room temperature, of course!—to sip and enjoy while we cook.” He looked at her enquiringly as he held up the bottle that already stood on the table.

He was right; she had left the wine out so that it would be exactly the right temperature for drinking when she returned home to prepare her meal. But this to “enjoy while we cook” sounded a little too—cosy, intimate. Everything she was hoping to avoid where this man was concerned.

“Lighten up, Jane,” Gabe advised laughingly as he read the indecision in her expression, deftly removing the cork from the bottle of wine as Jane busied herself putting the flowers in water. “I was suggesting we share a bottle of wine—not a bed!” He slipped off his jacket, placing it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

Jane put the vase of flowers down on the window-ledge with a thump. “You'll find the glasses in the cupboard over there.” She nodded abruptly across the kitchen.

Share a bed, indeed! She hadn't shared a bed with
any man since— She shuddered just at the thought of having once shared a bed with Paul!

Luckily she was concentrating on preparing the pasta by the time Gabe came back with the wine glasses, her shudder of revulsion unseen by him. Otherwise he might have wanted to know just why a woman of twenty-eight, obviously healthy, and not unattractive, should shudder at the mere thought of such intimacy…!