Thieves In The Night (20 page)

Chantal lifted her hand in an automatic gesture. A flood of memories returned with his touch: the roughness of his hands, the gentleness of his caresses, the surprising heat of his body. He was real, wonderfully, miraculously real.

“I’ve asked him to participate in the bachelor auction,” Elise continued, “but he’s balking. Maybe you can convince him.”

His nose wasn’t peeling anymore, she saw, but the sun streaks were still woven through his dark hair. It still swept across the tops of his ears and layered around the back of his neck, so much thick silk waiting to be explored by her fingers. The smile creases in his cheeks were shallow, with a lack of expression, but his eyes were soft with longing, the same longing tightening her chest and catching her breath.

“I’ve explained it’s all for charity,” Elise was saying, “but Mr. Peterson seems a little shy. I’ve assured him he’ll carry his weight. The fresh, outdoor look always goes over well in Aspen.”

So did broad shoulders, lanky, muscular bodies, and teasing smiles. She couldn’t throw him away again, didn’t have that much nobleness left. Loneliness and damp pillows had soaked all the magnanimity out of her heart, and Paul had given her back an unblemished soul. Nothing could change the past, but if Jaz had come back for her once more, after the terrible things she’d said, maybe, just maybe, he loved her enough to understand. It was a chance she had no choice but to take.

Chantal slowly turned her gaze to Elise, her hand still clasped in Jaz’s. “No, I don’t think auctioning Mr. Peterson is a good idea. I’ll . . . uh, write you a check in the morning.”

His hand tightened around hers possessively, and a surprisingly shy smile curved his mouth and warmed the depths of his eyes. “I think we can work something out without resorting to cash.” His voice was deep and soft.

Whether it was his smile or his words, Chantal didn’t know, but her confidence tripled. She’d give their love every chance possible. “Elise? Can you and the crew handle the auction without me?”

“I think we’re going to have to.” Remarkably, Elise didn’t seem at all perturbed.

Chantal lifted her eyes to Jaz. “I need to get my coat. Did you check yours?”

“I didn’t need one.”

“No.” She laughed softly. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

Hand in hand, they ascended the sweeping marble staircase to the suite reserved for the party organizers, their only communication being the slow entwining of their fingers. The room was dark, but when Jaz reached for the light switch Chantal stopped him by turning in his arms and pressing her body close to his. She needed to feel him, kiss him, have him kiss her.

“I missed you,” she whispered, resting his hand on her hip. She raised herself on tiptoe to reach his mouth and lightly brushed her lips across his, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I missed you so much, Jaz. My heart broke every night with wanting you.”

“Chan . . .” He pulled her close. “Why didn’t you come? If you hurt as badly as I did, why didn’t you come?”

She rubbed her nose down the side of his, inhaling the warm scent of him, letting it suffuse her senses. “I loved you too much, Jaz.”

Jaz mulled that over between kisses and didn’t come up with much. He chalked it up to the inscrutable female psyche and continued his delightful exploration of the utterly feminine woman in his arms. She loved him. The wonder of it filled him with passionate need and sweet serenity.

Her tongue traced his lips, tasting and giving until he captured her mouth and brought them both the magic they needed. His arms tightened around her and lifted her off the floor, giving them greater access to touch and tease and remember.

Like a thief in the night, she stole the wild passion of his kiss, one moment rough and hard and the next so soft and gentle. She led him on and on, layering soft bites along his jaw and coming back to play with his mouth. His low groan echoed across her lips, and she felt his body tense and harden. How had she ever let him go, this other part of her?

“Chan . . . let’s get out of here. Where’s your coat?”

“In the bedroom,” she murmured, sliding out of his arms.

“Bedroom?” he repeated hopefully.

She shook her head and gave his hand a squeeze before releasing him. “At least ten other people have a key to this suite.”

“Right,” he agreed. “Let’s get your coat and go home.”

He helped her sort through the pile of minks and foxes to find the coyote fur. “Are you going to tell me what happened to this coat that other night at the Orleans?” he asked, helping her into it.

She hooked the clasps running down the front and looked up at him. “I’m going to tell you everything, Jaz.”

“Even the part about loving me so much, you broke my heart?”

“Especially that part.” He had a right to know, and she needed him to know. She didn’t want any lies between them, even if telling the truth meant losing him.

It took fifteen minutes’ worth of good-byes to traverse the lobby, and when they finally made it to the door Chantal glanced out at the snow and then down at her blue satin heels. “I forgot my boots,” she said, sighing in frustration. The waiting to be in his arms again and the waiting to tell him the truth were tying her emotions in knots. She hadn’t decided which course of action to pursue first. Nobleness required the truth, but, as she’d discovered earlier, her nobleness was in short supply that evening.

“Nothing is going to get me back across that lobby, babe,” Jaz said, lifting her up in his arms. “Well make do. Comfy?”

“This is the best I’ve felt in months.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Better than new. And you’re right, you feel great.” He nuzzled his mouth close to her ear and whispered huskily, “But you’re going to feel a lot better when I get you home. And me, too, better all over.”

The warmth of his breath and his words sent a heat wave straight down the middle of her body, and Chantal felt her nobleness slip a dozen notches all at once. She tunneled her fingers through the dark hair brushing his collar and raised her eyes to meet his. “Take me home, Jaz.”

He shoved through the door and nodded at Peter, who took one look at them and turned to the doorman. “Pay up, Jerry. I told you, we could all learn something from this guy.”

Jaz halted in mid-stride. “Do you want me to hit him?” he asked Chantal.

“No. We need him for the bachelor auction. But if he ever runs book on me again, you can take him out.”

He grinned. “You’ve got a deal, partner.”

He carried her down the street, and by the time they reached the third block she said, “They’re only shoes, Jaz. Maybe I should walk. I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

Without stopping he replied, “If you knew what my body is doing, you’d be praying I’d get a little worn out before I get you home.”

She snuggled up closer and laid her mouth on his ear. “Oh, I know what you’re feeling, Jaz. I’m feeling it too.”

“Then I really don’t know how you stayed away. For that matter I don’t know why you kicked me out in the first place—or why I let you.” They reached the Jeep, but rather than setting her down, he tightened his arms around her. “Why did you kick me out? Don’t tell me you meant the things you said, because I figured out about halfway to Mexico that it was a line of bull. Problem was, I knew you’d said them for a reason. I never doubted that you wanted me to leave. I just never figured out why. Was I moving too fast?”

She hedged, feeling nobleness inch back up her priority list. “Well, you are the fastest thing I’ve ever come up against.”

“Yeah, I started coming on to you on a snow-packed roof in the middle of a heist. Believe me, babe, not even I have ever moved that fast. I think I set some kind of record.”

“You sure did.”

“So? Why the kiss-off?”

Nobleness topped the chart, and Chantal let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe we’d better get in, Jaz. It’s a long story.”

Something in her tone set off a warning bell. “Am I going to regret I asked?”

She was already feeling him slip away, and as much as she wanted to soothe his fears, kiss him one more time, she knew it wouldn’t be right. So she offered the only permissible consolation. “I hope not, Jaz.”

When they were both inside Jaz reached for the key, and as she had done so many nights before, she stopped him with her hand on his. “We’d better talk first. You just might want to drop me off at my Land Rover when we’re through.”

“Highly unlikely, babe. Unless”—his voice trailed off—“you did something really awful.”

Oh, God.
Apprehension welled in her breast, and her next words were barely a whisper. “Like what?”

“Like went off and married old what’s-his-name.” He sighed, dropping his head on the steering wheel. “Don’t tell me that, Chantal. Tell me anything else, but don’t tell me that.”

Under other circumstances, pure relief would have made her laugh, but the truth wasn’t much better than his off-the-mark conjecture. “No, Jaz. I didn’t marry Roger.”

His face remained doubtful. “Anybody else?” What did he know about her social life? He’d monopolized it for forty-eight hours and then she’d kicked him out.

His obvious jealousy buoyed her spirits a bit, and she managed a hesitant smile. “For years there was no one until you, and there’s certainly been no one since.”

He raised his hand to her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb, his tension easing off. “Then we can handle anything else.” He shoved in the clutch and reached for the key, and this time she didn’t stop him.

When they were on the highway, headed out of town, he glanced at her. “Okay, babe. I’m listening.”

Maybe this was the best way, she thought, in the darkened cab of the Jeep, where she didn’t have to look into his eyes. Slowly and softly she began, right from the beginning, leaving nothing out. She told him the truth about her father, her grandfather, and her great-grandfather, all the way down the line. She told him the truth about Paul and the rainy night on the roof of the Dubois villa. And she told him about her shame and guilt for abandoning her brother.

It was all too familiar for Jaz, and his own guilt increased with every word. Somehow, in his emotional turmoil, he’d neatly forgotten about his duplicity in going behind her back. Damn, he thought. It would be a helluva lot easier not to tell her.

But untold truths were as dangerous as lies, and he wasn’t in a gambling mood, not with Chantal’s love at stake.

Jaz’s silence unnerved Chantal. She twisted her hands in a white-knuckled knot in her lap and wished she’d waited until they were home. What was he thinking? Was he shocked? Disgusted? The dark profile of his face gave away nothing, and she was too afraid to ask. She finished the story as he pulled to a stop in her driveway. If possible, the silence deepened.

She took it for about thirty seconds and then opened her door. He was probably waiting for her to get out so he could leave.

“Wait,” he said. “I’ll come around and get you.”

“That’s okay. Don’t bother. Good-bye.” The words tumbled over one another as she made good her escape, sliding out of the Jeep into the snow.

She heard him come after her and hastened her steps. At the door the keys jingled and jangled in her hand. She didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want her last memory to be one of condemnation.

She had fast hands, but not fast enough. With one more lock to go, he bounded up the porch stairs and swung her up into his arms. “Now I’m going to have to buy you a new pair of shoes,” he drawled.

“Jaz, put me down. I understand.”

 “No, Chantal. You don’t understand, but you will in a few minutes. Open the door, please.”

Why did he have to make this so hard? “Just leave, Jaz. I don’t need a lecture.” She struggled in his arms, but for every ounce of energy she expended he countered with two, making it clear how thoroughly trapped she was.

“This is a losing game, babe. The door, please.” When she reluctantly complied he added, “A lecture isn’t what I have in mind. Confession is more like it.” Without setting her down, he kicked the door shut behind them. “For starters, for enders, for all the middles, I love you. Nothing is going to change that. Ever.”

“Jaz—”

“Don’t stop me now. This isn’t easy.” He paused and inhaled deeply. “I knew about Monte Carlo before I came back from Denver two months ago. At least, I was able to confirm the Dubois scandal and the family business. I pieced together the rest.”

Shock stopped her struggles more effectively than his strength. “How?”

“General Moore.”

“Why?”

“Because I fell in love in your bathtub. I didn’t know it at the time, but when I got on that plane I knew it had to be love. Nothing else hurts in quite the same way.”

“Oh, Jaz,” she breathed softly. “We’ve wasted so much time.”

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m not exactly in a position to be slinging mud.”

“Then we’re even?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, yes, Jaz. After all the craziness and danger, after all the secrets, I think we’ve hit solid ground.”

“How about if we hit the bed instead?” He flashed her a wicked grin. “Or am I moving too fast again?”

She smiled sweetly and slid her hand across the front of his shirt, tracing the curves of muscle with her fingertips, remembering and loving the hard warmth of his body. “I think I can keep up with you this time,” she murmured close to his ear, then began a slow rediscovery with her tongue. His tie loosened in her fingers and the buttons on his shirt came undone one by one.

“Ummm.” He muffled a groan of pleasure along the tender skin of her neck as he carried her to the bed. “It’s been too long, Chantal.” He lowered her to the floor, his hands sliding up her thighs and pushing her dress higher and higher. “Is there a zipper?”

“Try the bow.”

Capturing her mouth with his in a searing kiss, he tugged at the material and felt her unwrap in his arms. “My kind of dress,” he whispered against her lips.

She undid his belt and the button fly on his pants. No trace of shyness stayed her hands. She wanted him, not the memories of her dreams.

When their clothes were a pile of blue shimmer and black wool, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist.