The Yuletide Engagement & A Yuletide Seduction (25 page)

And, while Janette Granger might have been able to disappear without apparent trace, Jane Smith knew better than not to heed that fear…

 

“G
OOD MORNING,
Jane. Lovely morning for a run, isn't it,” Gabe said conversationally as he fell into stride beside her.

Jane faltered only slightly at the unexpected appearance of her running companion, continuing her measured pace.

And Gabe was right about the morning being lovely; it was one of those crisp, clear days so often to be found in England in mid-December, and with the snow now melted it was perfect for her early morning run. Although its perfection had now been marred somewhat by the advent of Gabe at her side! Gabe was the last person she had expected to see running in
her
park at seven o'clock in the morning…!

They ran on in silence, Jane determined not to have her routine disrupted. She enjoyed these early morning runs, putting her brain in neutral, just concentrating on the physical exercise, unhindered by cares or worries.

And this morning was no different as she continued her run round the park. Gabe, at her side, seemed to have no trouble at all keeping pace with her, for all that he must spend most of his time sitting behind a desk.

“I run too when I'm at home.” He seemed to read her thoughts. “And when I'm not at home I usually find a gym where I can work out.”

She should have known, by the width of his shoulders and the hard muscles of his stomach and legs. “I'm honoured,” she shot back dryly, looking to neither right nor left as she continued her run.

She didn't believe for a moment that his presence here, at this time, was a coincidence. She had told him last week that she ran in the park near her apartment, and now that he knew the location of that apartment it couldn't have been too difficult for him to work out where it was that she ran. It was the fact that he was here, obviously waiting for her, at seven o'clock in the morning, that had surprised her. And still did.

Gabe glanced sideways noting her concentrated expression. “I've had some very strange looks while I've been waiting for you!” Again he seemed able to read her thoughts.

Jane could well imagine he had! The only people here at this time of the morning were the homeless who had managed to find—and keep—one of the benches on which to spend the night, and other dedicated runners like herself, exercising before they prepared to go to work. Gabe, in his expensive, obviously new trainers, designer-logo shorts and sweatshirt top, did not fit into either of those categories.

“I'm not surprised,” she drawled, continuing her pounding on the tarmacked pathway.

It was beautiful here at this time of the morning. The birds were singing in the treetops, the sounds of the early morning traffic muted. Ordinarily Jane enjoyed this time of day, but with Gabe for a companion her enjoyment was as muted as the traffic noise!

She stopped once she reached the gate through which she had made her entrance earlier, having worked up a
healthy sheen of perspiration, her breasts heaving slightly beneath her white vest-top. Gabe's breathing was much heavier, his chest moving as he took in long gulps of air. Not so untroubled by the exercise as she had assumed!

He looked up at her with a rueful frown. “Okay, so I haven't managed to find a gym since I arrived two weeks ago; I've been too busy chasing after the most elusive woman I've ever known!” he said irritably as there was no change in her mockingly knowing expression.

Jane stiffened. “Janette Granger?” she said warily.

“You!” he corrected impatiently. “Give me a break, Jane. Haven't I proved to you yet that I'm not as ruthless as you initially thought I was?”

Her eyes narrowed, still slightly shaken by his earlier remark. “Is that what it was all about? Your change of heart where Richard Warner's company was concerned,” she explained scathingly. “Was it done to impress me?”

Gabe became suddenly still, aqua-blue eyes narrowed angrily. “You know something, you really are the most—” He broke off abruptly, his mouth a thin, straight line. “Do you mean to be insulting, Jane, or does it just come naturally to you?” he grated harshly.

She had been thrown by what she had thought was a reference to her past self, and in retrospect she had just been incredibly insulting. After all, it had been three years; she had changed, so why shouldn't he…?

“I'm sorry,” she told him tersely, not quite meeting his own suddenly mocking gaze.

Gabe relaxed slowly, a rueful smile finally curving his lips. “So what happens now?” He lightly changed the subject. “Do you go home and take a shower? Or do you
have some other form of physical torture—exercise,” he amended dryly, “in mind first?”

Jane smiled—as she knew she was supposed to do—at his deliberate slip. “Coffee, croissants, and the newspapers,” she reassured him teasingly.

“Now you're talking!” He lightly grasped her elbow as they turned towards the road. “I could do with a coffee and a sit down.”

“Oh, we aren't going to sit down yet,” Jane turned to tell him smilingly. “I pick up the croissants and newspapers, and then I run home for the coffee. Usually,” she added mockingly as she saw his instantly disappointed expression. “As you've obviously had enough running for one day, I'll make an exception today,” she conceded, leading the way to the little patisserie down one of the side streets away from the park where she usually stopped to buy her croissants on the way home.

As usual the door to the patisserie was already open and the smell of percolating coffee was wafting temptingly out into the street. Several people were already seated at tables as they entered, sipping their coffee, and indulging themselves with the best croissants Jane had ever tasted—her own included.

It wasn't much of a place to look at from the outside, and Jane could see Gabe's eyes widen questioningly as she led the way through the serviceable tables and chairs to the counter beyond.

“Trust me,” she told him softly.

“Without question,” he conceded as softly.

The man behind the counter glanced up from his newspapers as he heard their approach, his handsome face lighting up with pleasure as he saw Jane was his customer. “Jane,
chérie
,” he greeted in heavily accented
English, moving around the counter to kiss her on both cheeks. “Your usual?” he prompted huskily.

“Usual?” Gabe murmured beside her with dry derision.

She gave him a scathing glance. “I've brought a friend with me this morning, François.” She spoke warmly to the other man as he looked speculatively at Gabe. “Two ‘usuals', to eat in this morning, and two cups of your delicious coffee,” she requested before leading Gabe firmly away to sit at a table by the window.

“First an Italian and now a Frenchman,” Gabe muttered, with a resentful glance towards the handsome François.

Jane looked across the table at him with laughing, sherry-coloured eyes. “Multinational Jane, that's what they call me!” she returned laughingly. “Although I'm having more than a little trouble with a certain American I know!”

Gabe returned her gaze with too innocent aqua-blue eyes. “Me?”

She laughed softly at his disbelieving expression. “The part of the injured innocent doesn't suit you in the least, Gabe!”

“I—” He broke off as François arrived at their table, expertly carrying the two cups of coffee, two plates containing croissants, and the butter and honey to accompany them. “That looks wonderful, François.” Gabe spoke lightly to the other man. “I'm Gabe Vaughan, by the way.” He held out his hand.

François returned the gesture once he had divested himself of the plates and cups. “Any friend of Jane's is a friend of mine,” he returned a little more coolly.

A coolness that Gabe had obviously picked up on as
he gazed speculatively across the table at Jane once the other man had returned to the counter to continue reading his newspaper. “Exactly how well do—”

“He's a married man, too, Gabe,” she put in curtly. “Now eat your croissants!” she advised him exasperatedly, already spreading honey on one of her own.

“Yes, ma'am!” he returned tauntingly, turning his attention to the plate of food in front of him.

“At last,” Jane breathed softly seconds later. “I've found a way to shut you up!” she explained as she watched the expression of first wonder, and then bliss, as it spread across his face after the first mouthful of croissant. As she knew from experience, the pastry would simply melt in his mouth, in an ecstasy of delicacy and taste.

“This guy could make a fortune in the States!” Gabe gasped wonderingly when he could speak again.

“This ‘guy' is doing very nicely exactly where he is, thank you very much,” Jane told him warningly. “Tempt him away from here at your peril!” She simply couldn't envisage a morning now without François's croissants to start her on her way!

Gabe took another bite of the croissant, as if he couldn't quite believe the first one could have been quite that delicious. “I'd marry him myself if he weren't already married,” he murmured seconds later. “How are you on croissants, Jane?” he added, brows arched hopefully.

“Not as good as François,” she answered abruptly. She didn't find any talk of marriage, even jokingly, in the least bit funny!

“Pity,” Gabe shrugged, spreading more honey on what
was left of his first croissant. “I guess I'll just have to stick to François!”

He most certainly would!

Not that she didn't realise he had meant the remark to be a teasing one; it just wasn't a subject she could joke about. And certainly not with Gabriel Vaughan.

Of all people, never with him…!

“T
ELL
me,” Jane prompted derisively as they lingered over their second cup of coffee, “what would you have done if I hadn't turned up for a run in the park this morning?” She looked mockingly across at Gabe.

He shrugged. “I have faith in your determination, Jane, no matter what I may have said to the contrary the other evening!”

She put her cup down slowly, her expression wary. “My determination…?”

“You don't look in the least like a fair-weather runner to me.” He looked admiringly at her slender figure.

And Jane didn't in the least care for that look.

“After that wonderful meal we had last night, I thought I ought to join you this morning,” he added ruefully. “I just wasn't sure of your starting time, although I didn't think it would be too late, not with your work schedule,” he added teasingly.

“You're certainly a persistent man,” she said distractedly.

Gabe looked unperturbed. “Something I inherited from my father—”

“The politician,” Jane recalled dryly.

“Retired,” Gabe acknowledged ruefully, although he looked pleased that she had remembered.

“So he claims.” Jane remembered that conversation
only too well. In fact, she remembered all of her conversations with Gabe. “I usually take a break from running at the weekends,” she explained, still distracted by his persistence. “It tends to be my busiest time anyway. Although, as it happens, I do usually run later in the morning than this; today I'm up and about early because I'm catering for a lunch.”

“To my good.” He huskily acknowledged the breakfast they had just shared together. “It would have been even more pleasurable if we hadn't parted at all last night—but I realise I can't have everything!” He looked across at her with teasing eyes.

“You certainly can't where I'm concerned!” Jane dismissed laughingly as she stood up; she had virtually given up trying to stop Gabe coming out with such intimate remarks about the two of them—he took little or no notice of her protests, anyway! “Time I was going,” she told him briskly. “I have work to do,” she added pointedly.

“So do I, madam, so do I,” he drawled in rebuke as he followed her back to the counter. “Let me—”

“My treat,” she insisted firmly, handing over the correct money to François. “Gabe thinks you should go to the States and make your fortune, François,” she told the other man lightly.

“And deprive myself of the pleasure of paying all these English taxes every year?” François returned with a Gallic shrug. “Besides, I have an English mother-in-law,” he confided to Gabe with a pointed roll of warm brown eyes. “And an English mother-in-law has to be the most formidable in the world!” he added heavily.

“All the more reason to leave the country, I would
have thought,” Gabe returned sympathetically, his eyes twinkling with his enjoyment of the conversation.

“There is no way she would let me take her two grandchildren with me, let alone her daughter!” François shook his head with certainty. “Not that my wife would be agreeable to such an idea, either,” he added frowningly. “You know, ten years ago, when I first met her, she was very sweet and very beautiful, always agreeable. But with the passing of time she grows very like her mother…!” He gave another expressive Gallic shrug.

“Did no one ever warn you to look at the mother before marrying the daughter?” Gabe drawled mockingly.

“Er—excuse me?” Jane cut in pointedly on this man-to-man exchange. Did Gabe get on with everybody? It seemed that he was able to put most people at their ease, was able to adapt to any situation. Strange; three years ago she had had an impression of him being a much more rigid individual… “When the two of you have quite finished…?” she added ruefully.

Gabe looked down at her with mocking eyes. “Perhaps it would be a good idea for me to meet your mother…!” he murmured tauntingly.

But he had already done so! And, from the comments he had made to her after that meeting with the Smythe-Robertses, he had obviously liked both her parents.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Jane derided. “But I'm nothing like my mother! She's sweet and kind, and has been completely devoted to my father from the day she first met him!” She didn't think she was necessarily un-sweet, or unkind, but she had one failed marriage behind her, and no intention of ever repeating the experience!

The two men laughed at her levity, although Gabe's smile faded once they were once again outside in the
street, his hand light on her elbow. “You know, Jane, we can't all be as lucky with our first choice of partner as our parents have been,” he told her gruffly. “In fact, I've often thought that my own parents' happy marriage gave me the mistaken idea they were all like that!” He shook his head in self-derision.

He could be right in that surmise, Jane allowed. She knew that she had viewed her own marriage, at age only twenty-one, to be a lifetime commitment to love and happiness. It had taken only a matter of months for her to realise that with Paul that was going to be hard work, if not impossible. But she had made the commitment, and so she had worked at the marriage. Unfortunately, Paul hadn't felt that same need…

“With hindsight, I'm sure our parents' marriages are the exception, not the rule,” she said tightly.

“Probably.” Gabe nodded thoughtfully, glancing at his wristwatch. “Now that's dinner and breakfast I owe you.” He quirked dark brows. “Any chance we could start with the dinner?”

And end up having breakfast together the next morning…!

Gabe certainly had to be given marks for trying. After all, he had waited at the park for her this morning in the hope she would turn up. And she hadn't thought that a man like Gabe—rich, handsome, and available—would chase after any woman so persistently, let alone one who was obviously so reluctant to be chased! But perhaps that was the appeal…?

“I did tell you this is my busy time—”

“Even Santa Claus has some time off before the big day,” Gabe reasoned persuasively.

“But as it happens,” she continued firmly, “I'm free
this evening. It's very rare for me to organise a lunch and a dinner on the same day,” she explained dismissively.

“And today you have a lunch,” Gabe said with satisfaction. “My lucky evening!”

It could be. But then again, it might not be, not if all he was after was a conquest…

“And how do you know Father Christmas takes time off?” she asked inconsequentially.

Gabe burst out laughing. “I wondered if you would pick me up on that one!”

She would pick him up on anything she felt she should. But as she glanced at him she saw he was looking at his watch once again. “Am I keeping you from something? Or possibly someone?” she added dryly.

His mouth quirked. “As it happens—both those things! I have an appointment at ten o'clock, and after our run I need a shower before going to the office.”

Jane's returning smile lacked humour. “Some other unlucky person whose business is in trouble?”

Gabe shook his head, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “I would like to know who gave you this detrimental version of my business dealings,” he drawled irritably. “I could thank them personally!”

Not really! It was Paul who had told her all about Gabriel Vaughan and the way he did business, and he had been out of Gabe's—and anyone else's—reach for three years…

She shrugged. “It isn't important—”

“Maybe not to you,” Gabe bit out tersely. “But it sure as hell is to me! I may have stepped in and taken a business over when it was in danger of failing— If I hadn't done it then someone else would have!” he defended harshly at her sceptical expression. “And at least with
me the original workforce, and often the management too, would be kept on if they weren't the reason for the problem.”

As he had with her father's company…except for her father, of course! “Somehow, Gabe, you don't strike me as a knight in shining armour—”

“I'm well aware of how I strike you, Jane,” he rasped tautly. “And I'm doing my damnedest to show you how wrong you are!”

And in part, she realised with a worried frown, he was succeeding. Because several times in their new acquaintance she had been surprised by his actions, found them difficult to place with the ruthless shark she had originally thought him to be…

“Oh, to hell with this,” he suddenly snapped impatiently. “Just tell me when and where this evening, and I'll meet you there. And try not to make it in yet another establishment where the male proprietor greets you like a long-lost lover, hmm?” he added grimly.

He was jealous! Of Antonio and François. He had been pleasant to both men; in fact, this morning she had noted how easy he found it to get along with people and put them, as well as himself, at their ease. And yet that continued show of relaxation hid another emotion completely.

“Caroline's,” she told him, adding the address of her favourite French restaurant. “Hopefully we'll be able to get a table for eight o'clock,” she added dryly. “Although that may be difficult this close to Christmas.”

“Do I take it that Caroline is a female?” Gabe muttered warily.

“You do,” Jane nodded. “But it's her husband Pierre who does the cooking,” she added with a grin.

“I give up!” Gabe sighed disgustedly, glancing at his watch once again. “And I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting us a table—even if it is Christmas!” he dismissed exasperatedly. “I'll meet you there at eight o'clock. Now I really do have to go!” He bent and kissed her briefly on the lips before turning and running off towards the main road where, hopefully, he would be able to flag down a taxi to take him home.

Jane watched him go, ruefully shaking her head as she did so. The man had a way of first bursting in and then bursting out of her life!

And of kissing her whenever he felt like it!

He had dropped that kiss lightly on her lips just now, as if they were two lovers parting briefly to be reunited later in the day. Which was exactly what they were going to do. But they certainly weren't lovers!

Nor ever likely to be either…!

 

J
ANE
sat at the table waiting, a frown marring her brow as she remembered the telephone message that had been left on her answer machine when she'd got in earlier.

“Janette, darling,” her mother had greeted excitedly. “Such fun, darling! Daddy and I have decided to come up to London for the day, and we thought it would be marvellous if we could all have tea at the Waldorf like we used to. Daddy and I will be there at four-thirty. But don't worry if you aren't able to make it,” she'd added doubtfully. “If that's the case I'll give you a ring in a few days' time.”

A few days' time…! There was no way Jane could wait a few days before finding out what had prompted her parents to come up to London.

The London house had been sold three years earlier
along with the rest of their surplus needs, and with it most of their London friends had disappeared too. Besides, Jane knew there was little cash to spend on a day in London, let alone tea at the Waldorf…

Tea at the Waldorf had always been a first-day-home-from-boarding-school treat that she and her mother had indulged in, her father usually too busy to join them.

But that wasn't the case today, and luckily Jane had returned from catering the lunch to receive her mother's recorded message in time for her to get to the Waldorf.

A day in London…

Her parents rarely came to London nowadays, and when they did it wasn't done spontaneously, as this visit appeared to have been. And it was never just for the day; the two of them usually stayed with Jane for several days.

So here she sat, the troubled frown still marring her brow, the time one minute to four-thirty…

Her mother looked transformed as she entered the hotel, radiant in a fine woollen rose-pink suit, her hair newly coloured and styled, her smile graciously lovely as she greeted several other people she knew at the tables as she and Jane's father approached their own reserved table.

Jane's father looked the tall, handsome man she had known when she was a child and teenager, his smiles of greeting as warm as her mother's.

But Jane's feelings of pleasure at the change in her parents were tinged with trepidation as she wondered at the reason for that change…

“Darling!” Her mother kissed her warmly on the cheek as Jane stood up on their arrival at the table.

“Janette.” Her father greeted her more sedately, but there was a teasing glitter in the warmth of his eyes.

“This was a lovely idea,” Jane smiled as they all sat down. “Thank you both for inviting me.”

But still her feelings of trepidation wouldn't be pushed aside. Although it wouldn't do to just blurt out her curiosity concerning their spontaneity. Besides, she didn't want to wipe out that happy light in the two faces she loved best in the world.

“Have you had an enjoyable day?” she asked casually once their sandwiches and tea had been placed on the table, the latter in front of her mother so that she could pour the Earl Grey into the three china cups. “It's a little late for Christmas shopping, and the weather hasn't exactly been brilliant for walking around the shops.” There had been flurries of snow and rain most of the day, and the wind was bitterly cold.

“Everywhere looks so festive we didn't notice.” Her mother smiled her pleasure. “I had forgotten how wonderful everywhere looks at this time of the year,” she added wistfully.

Jane had barely noticed the decorations, she had to admit, not because she didn't like Christmas, but because until the evening of the twenty-fourth of December she would be worked off her feet providing other people's food for the festive season. Christmas Day she would spend with her parents, and on Boxing Day the round of parties and dinners would all begin again. But, yes, everywhere did look rather splendid, and, without her being aware of it until this moment, she was feeling lightened by some of the Christmas spirit herself.