For the Love of You (5 page)

She studied his profile as they walked and talked. It was as if his features had been carved by a skilled hand. She wanted to reach out and stroke the curve of his jaw, the angle of his forehead, run her finger along the full lips. And then as if he was once again reading her thoughts, he took her hand. The jolt of the contact set her heart racing.

His long fingers curved around her hand and held it possessively. She stared at him. He brought her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed it then continued walking, as if they always walked through the streets of downtown New Orleans holding hands.

* * *

“Thank you for a lovely afternoon,” Craig said with a smoldering smile.

They stood facing each other, inches apart, on her front porch. Jewel's heart thumped. “I'm glad I went.”

“Are you?” His brows tightened as he took a step closer, forcing her to look up.

Her throat worked. “Very.”

“That's good to know, because I want to do it again.”

Jewel swallowed. “Lunch?”

“Dinner...and then breakfast.”

The implication was clear. Heat flashed through her limbs. Her head swam.

“How does that sound?”

“It sounds...”

Before she could form the words, he'd slid his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against the hard lines of his body, and the world disappeared as his head came down and those lips that that she had fantasized about kissing covered hers. The kiss was electric, slow and sweet. She couldn't think over the hum that echoed deep in his throat as he deepened their kiss, teasing her mouth with a swipe of his tongue. Her entire body vibrated and felt weak all at once. Her fingers held onto the tight ropes of his arms, and all she could piece together in her head was that she didn't want it to end. But then it did.

Craig looked down into her upturned face. “You let me know when,” he said, his voice low and ragged. He traced her bottom lip with the tip of his finger, turned and strode down the walkway to his car, and like waking from a dream he was gone.

But it wasn't a dream. She ran her tongue across her lips and tasted him, shut her eyes and saw him. It was very real.

Chapter 4

C
raig was met at the front door of the hotel by the black-jacketed valet that gallantly opened the chrome and glass door and wished him a practiced “Enjoy your stay.” Craig strode across the lobby floor and stabbed the up button on the elevator panel. He was more than two hours late for his sit-down with his team. He hadn't intended to be gone as long as he had, and neither had he intended to be so affected by a simple kiss. The entire ride back from Jewel's home to the hotel his thoughts leapfrogged each other, never allowing him a moment to catch them and try to figure out what he was thinking and feeling.

“Well, there you are,” Anthony greeted him the moment Craig entered the suite. “Thought you'd forgotten all about us.” He eyed Craig for a response.

“Yeah, sorry for the delay. Got caught up.” He avoided Anthony's pointed stare and shrugged out of his lightweight leather jacket and tossed it on a chair. “Where are we with things?”

“Everyone has arrived, and we were working out the shooting schedule. The primary actors, Milan and Hamilton, arrived about an hour ago. They're getting settled in their rooms.”

Craig nodded, taking in the information. “Cool. I want to have a sit-down with the primaries in about an hour.”

“Sure.” He paused. “So...how was lunch?”

“Filling.” His cell phone chirped in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw his sister's name on the screen. He blew out a breath. “Gotta take this.” He pressed the talk icon. “Hey, sis.” He turned away from Anthony and crossed the room to the window. “How are you?” He didn't have to wait long for his sister to read him the riot act.

“Why do I have to read about you being back in town? You couldn't call?”

Craig briefly shut his eyes. He knew his sister. And when she went on a tear, she didn't stop until she was beyond satisfied. “Sorry, sis. I've been crazy busy from the moment we landed.”

“Lousy excuse,” she groused. “So,” she puffed into the phone. “How are you and where are you staying?”

He held back a smile, envisioning his petite sister's dark eyes cinched at the corners and her mouth in a tight, disapproving line. As the youngest of the three and the only girl, Alyse learned early that she had to be just as tough if not tougher than her big brothers and be able to stand toe to toe with their father.

“I'm fine, thanks, sis. And I'm staying at the Marriott in the Quarter.”

“Fancy,” she teased. “So I'm free this evening. I can meet you at your hotel.”

Craig knew that, much like him, the word
no
didn't factor into Alyse's vocabulary. He exhaled slowly. “Sure. How about eight?”

“I'll see you then. Myles is out of town, by the way. But he should be back by the weekend.”

“I'll be sure to give him a call.”

The elephant sat between them. Their father. Thankfully Alyse didn't bring him up. Craig was not in the mood to discuss their father at the moment, but he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid the conversation later. “Look, sis, I gotta run. I'll see you tonight.”

“Fine. Looking forward to seeing you, Craig,” she said, her tone finally softening.

“Me, too, sis. Later.” He disconnected the call, shook his head and slid the phone back into his pocket. The sound of voices and activity drew his attention to the main room. Milan Chase had arrived, and one would think that his crew had never been in the presence of a movie star with the way they tripped over each other to introduce themselves.

Milan Chase was the epitome of classy, sexy beauty, but more than that she was an incredible actress who knew her worth down to the last penny and who had two Golden Globes and an Oscar nomination to her credit. Not only was she good at what she did on camera, she was an astute businesswoman who was notorious for tough negotiations for all of her contracts. Even her lawyers deferred to her. He'd had brief reservations in casting Milan for the lead role. Not because of her ability, but because of their history.

Craig entered the open living space, and like the parting of the sea, his crew moved aside as he strode toward Milan.

“Glad you got here safe and sound,” he said in an intimate tone. He took her hands in his and kissed her right cheek then her left.

“Craig,” she said in her patented throaty whisper. “Good to see you again.” Her lashes fluttered for an instant.

“You, too. How are your accommodations?”

“Perfect.”

“Good.” He released her hands. “I was in the midst of planning a meeting in about an hour. You good with that?” He slung his hands into his pockets.

“Absolutely. I'm anxious to get started.”

Craig nodded. “You can hang out here or wait in your room until we're ready. Up to you.”

“I might as well stay, get familiar with the crew.”

“That's fine.” He patted her shoulder and started to move away.

“Craig...”

He glanced over his shoulder then turned. “Yeah?”

Milan stepped closer. “Are you free later tonight?”

His eyes widened for an instant. “Tonight? Actually, I have plans.”

She lowered her gaze then looked directly at him. “Tomorrow night, then.”

He cleared his throat. “I'll, uh, let you know. Is there a problem?”

“Not at all. I thought we could catch up for old times' sake.”

He rocked his jaw. The last thing he needed was to rekindle the embers with Milan, but he didn't want her as an adversary, either. “Maybe we can do drinks,” he offered to appease her. “How's that?”

“Sure.” She flashed her movie star smile. “Drinks sound fine.”

“Craig...”

He turned toward the sound of his name. “Duty calls. Check you later.” He walked over to Anthony.

“Yeah, what's up?”

“Looked like you needed rescuing,” Anthony said under his breath.

“You noticed that, huh? Thanks.”

“I let everyone know to be in place for the meeting. The main thing is the shooting schedule for week one. Everything cool with the location?”

“Yes. I have some adjustments to make to the contract and I'll get it signed.”

Anthony's right brow rose. “You? Paul or Diane can do that.”

“I'd prefer to handle it myself.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Don't, okay? It's not like that.”

“Hey, my man. It's your party. All I ask is to keep the fireworks to a minimum.”

Craig slapped Anthony's back. “No worries.” He caught a glimpse of Milan out of the corner of his eye. He hoped that sentiment would remain true. “Got a call from Alyse.”

“You knew that was going to happen.”

He snorted a laugh. “Yeah. Meeting her later tonight at the hotel bar.”

“Public place. Good move,” he teased.

“Very funny.”

“Well, you know how Alyse can be.”

“That I do,” he conceded good-naturedly. He pushed out a breath. “Soon as Hamilton gets here, we can get started.”

“In the meantime, let's go over a few things for the shooting schedule and the staffing.”

“Sure.”

“So what about your pops?” Anthony hedged once they were seated at the round table away from the team.

Craig looked up from the notes on the iPad. “What about him?”

“Guess that answers my question.”

“I hope so.”

* * *

Jewel finished packing up the bakery boxes filled with cupcakes for her client's daughter's sixteenth-birthday party. She tied each box with her signature lavender bow and tucked a business card in each one. She had to admit that over the past few months the requests for her baking services had increased considerably. As it currently stood, she had the space in her kitchen and the time on her hands to efficiently complete her orders. But she wasn't too sure how long that efficiency would last at this rate. The extra income wasn't enough for her to sit back and relax, but it did help. Maybe Minerva was right and this was her next career move, which shifted her thoughts back to her lunch and conversation with Craig. It was exhilarating and simultaneously disheartening to listen to his unwavering passion for his work. She'd had that once. And had anyone asked her five years earlier if she ever saw anything different in her life, she would have responded with a flat-out no.

The past five years had been hard, harder than she often admitted even in the quiet of her own mind. There were those days when she missed the travel, the work, the accolades, the excitement of creating something from nothing, allowing her imagination to become a physical reality.

There were times when she'd questioned her decision to leave that life behind her, to throw in the towel, so to speak. Yet, even after all this time, her fall from grace still stung.

It was a New York showing. The promotion leading up to her gallery opening had been in every art magazine, newspaper and blog and on the lips of every reputable critic in the business. The buzz in the art world was near deafening in anticipation of Jewel Fontaine's new work. Rumor had it that she had taken a departure from her traditional oil painting and classic sculptures to something more avant-garde and edgy. It was a risk. But the artistic visionary in her guided her in a new direction.

She'd always been anxious on opening nights, but this night was different. She was actually scared. Her personal assistant, Mai Ling, had spent the better part of the day convincing her that the fans and the critics would love it.

“You're a brilliant artist, Jewel,” Mai said. “You've carved a solid reputation for excellence, and one show is not going to change that. The work is phenomenal, and anyone with a grain of sense will see it. So stop worrying. It's going to be fine.” She gave Jewel a reassuring hug. “I put your outfit on the bed. The car will be here to pick us up at six. You have an interview with
Art Digest
and the reviewer from the
Times
. Then it's on to the after-party.”

Jewel pushed out a breath. She didn't know what she would do without Mai.
Efficient
wasn't a word that did her justice. “Great. And you have the car to pick up my father from the airport?”

“Of course. I don't want you to worry about anything beyond looking beautiful and talking about your work.”

“I'll try. Is Simon coming?” she asked with an edge of doubt in her voice.

Mai's lashes fanned her eyes. “He didn't RSVP,” she said softly. “But you know Simon. He never was one to follow protocol.”

Jewel knew that Mai was attempting to ease her angst, but the truth was her on-again, off-again relationship with Simon Devareau had been switched to the off mode for weeks. Simon was a writer and arranger for some of the biggest names in the music industry, and his time and talent were always in demand. He was a temperamental musical genius who could go for weeks, sometimes months without seeing or talking to her when he was in the throes of composing new work.

They'd met on the beaches of Rio two years earlier and had hit if off almost instantly. She was magnetically drawn to his brooding good looks and his passion for his work. They shared many things in common, the arts being one and mind-blowing sex the other. They spent endless hours discussing their work, sharing ideas, sparking others. But Simon always maintained an invisible wall, one that she was never able to penetrate. She wanted more. He knew it, and the wall grew thicker and higher. Their times apart became longer, the silences louder. Jewel wanted it to work. She believed that there was room in their lives for each other and the work. Simon didn't say it in so many words, but his actions spoke volumes—his work took priority. Period. And the harder she tried to make him cross the line, the harder he pulled away. She knew it was a mistake to hope that he would be there for her big night, but she couldn't stamp out her need to want him with her.

“I'm going to head over to the Guggenheim and make sure that there are no last-minute glitches, then I'll meet you back here no later than five so that I can get ready.”

“Thanks, sweetie. Call me if there are any problems.”

Mai gave her an
are you kidding me
look, shook her head and walked out.

* * *

When the limo pulled up in front of the Guggenheim Museum, it was a scene right out of Oscar night. The red carpet led from the street up to the front entrance to the museum. Reporters and photographers lined the roped-off entrance, and the instant Jewel stepped from the limo behind Mai, the flash of lights from cameras and cell phones and the shouting of her name rose in a cacophony of light and sound. The reception was overwhelming, and Jewel's stress level skyrocketed. She did her best to keep her smile in place as she walked the carpet, stopping every several feet to take a picture or answer a quick question. Finally they made it inside.

The Ronald O. Perelman Rotunda designed by the iconic Frank Lloyd Wright could hold fourteen hundred people for a reception and three hundred for a sit-down dinner. Even Jewel gasped at the opulence of the space that was strategically lined with her latest work, set off by the polished glass and chrome of the event space and marble floors. Circular linen-topped tables with white votive candles as centerpieces were arranged to the side of the space to accommodate the after-party dinner reception.

“Oh. My. God,” Jewel said in a gush of awe.

Mai squeezed Jewel's bare arm. “It's going to be a fabulous night,” she whispered in assurance. “Now let's mingle.” Mai took Jewel's arm and guided her around the extraordinary space.

If only Mai's prediction had been true. It was apparent within the first hour that the buzz among the patrons and the press was anything but complimentary.

“Terrible.”

“Not her style.”

“What happened to her?”

“Definitely not what I expected.”

“Disappointing.”