Redemption in Love (Hearts on the Line) (13 page)

Amandine smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

“Call any time if you need me.”

The drive back to the mansion was uneventful. Maybe the world was trying to be kind to her today, compensation after her husband had rammed his heavy-handed reconciliation attempt down her throat. He’d promised a lot to get her to stay…everything but love.

Was she that unlovable?

The moment Amandine stepped into the grand foyer, she saw staff bustling about with suitcases. Was Gavin moving out after telling her he wanted them to be together?

Luna appeared, dragging a giant surfboard. Where in the world had that come from?

“Welcome back.” She beamed. “I think I got almost everything you need, but can you take a look in your closet and bathroom and tell me if I missed anything?”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s so romantic to have a second honeymoon.” Luna sighed dreamily.

Amandine stared at the housekeeper. “Second honeymoon?” she said faintly.

“Uh oh.” Luna put a hand over her bosom, her mouth puckering. “Did I ruin a surprise?”

“No, no you didn’t.” More like a…
shock
.

Walking away from the staff for privacy, Amandine called her husband and steeled herself. He better not tell her he’d talk to her later and hang up like he normally did. Not if he wanted to convince her to stay.

“Yes, dear?” he said on the fifth ring.

“What’s all this about a second honeymoon? What the hell are you doing?”

“Reconciling.”

“I never said I’d go on a second honeymoon with you,” she hissed.

“You never said you wouldn’t.”

“Gavin, you’re supposed to be nice to me, remember? You’re supposed to make me want to stay with you.”

“If you can tell me why taking you on a second honeymoon is not ‘being nice to you,’ I’ll cancel it.”

“I… I…” She clamped her mouth shut. A romantic time in seclusion with her husband was not what she wanted, not when she expected their marriage to end anyway.

“‘I’ doesn’t tell me anything. You’ve never been to the family vacation home in Thailand, and I think you’ll enjoy it. We’ll have the entire house to ourselves. Besides, we can break in your jet.”

“I said you could have it.”

“What am I going to do with a jet with a pink bathroom? It’s yours, no matter what happens.”

She rubbed her temples. “What if Dr. Silverman says I shouldn’t be flying in my condition?”

“Already cleared it with her.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not for something this important. See you at the hangar. Have Thomas drive you.”

“What about Brooke?”

“Leave her behind. The place in Thailand is fully staffed. We aren’t taking anybody from L.A.”

A soft click and he was gone. She stared at the phone for a long time, trying to process what the hell the point of a second honeymoon was.

She couldn’t think of one. Giving up, she called Brooke.

“Um, about your schedule. You won’t have to come in for a few days. Just stay home and chill until I call you. I’ll make sure you get paid since it’s Gavin’s idea.”

“Uh… What’s going on?”

“Gavin’s insisting on a second honeymoon.”

“That’s pretty sudden.”

“Tell me about it.”

Luna appeared again, making urgent hand-signals that Amandine should go check her bedroom.

“Hold on.” Amandine went upstairs and stared at the empty room. “Good lord, they packed everything.”

“What do you mean everything?”

“All our clothes and stuff. I can’t believe it.”

“Can you load all of them on one jet?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re taking two.” Staring at the empty room made the honeymoon even more real. Amandine sat on the bed. “I don’t understand. Why is Gavin doing this? How in the world did he find the time?”

“It
is
a little weird. You guys’ve had, what, two vacations or something since the ceremony?”

“It’s not just that. He never has a non-working vacation. In the Maldives he spent at least three to four hours a day on business. And that was a
planned
vacation.” She imagined the most likely scenario this time: him working nine-to-nine, while she sucked down one tropical fruit smoothie after another on the beach.

“Where are you going?”

“Thailand.”

“Well that’s great, right? I thought you always wanted to go.”

“I do. I’ve heard so much about the family vacation home there…everyone says it’s fabulous.” Catherine also had been there a few times and posted some shots on Facebook. Unfortunately, Amandine never had an opportunity to go. Gavin was always too busy, and she’d never felt comfortable going there by herself or just with friends, though Catherine didn’t seem to have any such inhibition.

If she could just be as confident as Catherine that she belonged with Gavin and people like him…

“I know it bugs you that Gavin’s acting out of character, but he’s trying to convince you not to divorce him. So give him a chance. See what happens,” Brooke said.

“You think so?”

“You love him, right? So I’m trying to be open-minded…even though he did stand you up on your anniversary. But who knows? He might surprise you.”

Brooke was right. Instead of thinking about the worst-case scenario, Amandine should wait and see.

But she was afraid a sweet and solicitous Gavin would be impossible to resist. If she fell in love with him even more deeply, how was she going to bear it if their marriage dissolved because he didn’t feel the same way about her? Would she cling out of unrequited love, or have the pride and self-respect to walk away even if he wanted her to stay for reasons other than love?

Don’t think about failures
.
They won’t happen
, Gavin had said once. But she was afraid she wasn’t as confident or worldly as he was.

AMANDINE SETTLED HERSELF, sinking into the leather couch. Gavin sat across from her with bourbon on a small mahogany drink stand.

This jet was a lot more comfortable than anything else she’d ever flown in, including Gavin’s own personal aircraft. His was designed for productivity, while hers was all for pleasure and relaxation.

He pulled one of her legs up and rested it on his lap. She raised an eyebrow, but smoothed her knee-length skirt and continued to sip her apple and ginger cider.

Carefully he slipped her flat sandal off. It hit the floor next to his wing-tipped feet. He hadn’t bothered to change before hopping on the plane, and his business suit and dark masculinity were a counterpoint to her bright new jet. The five o’clock shadow on his jaw would feel deliciously scratchy against her skin if she had the courage to reach over and touch him.

She curled her hands and waited for him to make his move. Wooing her was his project. He’d said it was his job to make her interested in sex—she only had to stay receptive.

Except sex wasn’t the core of their problem, was it?

His thumb dug firmly into her insole, and Amandine bit her lower lip to contain a moan rising deep from her chest. Oh wow. She’d always known he had great hands, but this was unexpected.

He continued his ministrations, his fingers firm and confident, like they knew all the spots hurting from years of wearing heels. She was glad she’d had a pedicure done a couple of days before. Not that she wanted to impress him—she emphatically did not. But she wanted to look pretty. For herself, of course.

She eyed his right pocket. His phone hadn’t buzzed once in the last four hours. Ditto for his other toys.

“The market must be really slow today,” she said.

He gave her a quizzical look.

“Your phone and tablet are quiet.”

“They’re off.”

She must have misheard. “They’re what?”

“Off. We’re flying, you know.”

“You never turn them off though. You said that was one of the main benefits of owning your own jet.”

“This isn’t my jet, is it?”

She scoffed. “It is for all intents and purposes.”

“Do you want me to check messages and alerts?” he asked with a frown.

“No. Actually yes.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You’re supposed to choose one.”

Why did he have to sound so calm and reasonable? “I don’t want you to check, but I know you need to.”

Now he looked amused. “I do?”

“Yeah. For every dollar you bet, you can win or lose a hundred bucks or something. And I know you bet millions of dollars a day. A losing trade can destroy you and your clients.”

He chuckled.

“It’s nothing to laugh at! If you only worked for rich jerks, I wouldn’t care, but you manage pension funds. What are all those teachers and factory workers going to do if their retirements get wiped out?”

“You’re cute when you’re earnest.”

“I know you need to micromanage,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t have to like it that it keeps you busy, but I also want you to do the right thing.”

“Thank you, but the firm’s going to be fine. I’ve given explicit instructions on what to do. I might need to check in periodically, but those teachers and factory workers won’t have to scrub toilets to eat in their golden years.”

And she knew by the determined and cool look in his eyes that he told her the truth. He took his fiduciary duties seriously.

Why couldn’t her husband just be a money-hungry jerk?

Because you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him
.

She’d fallen for his incredible and indomitable willpower, his drive, intelligence and passion. And years later, those attributes hadn’t disappeared. They were part of who he was.

He should’ve gotten fat and indolent or something. Then her body wouldn’t tingle at the contact of his skin against hers.

He pulled her other foot to his lap. His hands traveled upward and worked on the knots in her calves. This time she couldn’t stop the moan.

“I should’ve arranged for a masseuse,” Gavin said. “I didn’t realize you were so tense.”

“I’m not.” She sighed as he found another knot and worked on it.

His mouth quirked. “Whatever you say.”

She closed her eyes to block out his smugly accommodating expression. “So how much longer before we land?”

“Ping the cabin attendant,” he said.

“Too much effort. I thought you knew.”

“Anxious to land? Don’t you like flying more, now that you have your own jet?”

“It’s nice.” An understatement. The jet had everything, including privacy. But it was a consolation prize, something she got for loving a man who didn’t love her back. How could something material measure up, no matter how expensive it was?

“We should fly to Maryland later,” Gavin said.

“Maryland?” Her eyes came open.

He nodded. “I’m sure Mom would like to see you before you’re too far along to travel.”

“Oh.” Amandine took a long swallow of her cider.

Always impeccable, always gracious, Stella Lloyd intimidated Amandine, though she had never done anything to make Amandine feel uncomfortable. It was probably the incredibly high standards Stella set for herself—and maintained—that cowed Amandine. She felt like she could never live up to Stella’s ideals, and men married women like their mothers. Or so she’d heard.

“I’d love to visit,” she said. “But let’s not tell her about my pregnancy.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to disappoint her. And, you know, a divorce…”

Something dark and tense flickered in his eyes. “Well, think positive. We might not divorce after all.”

“You’re awfully confident.”

“I’m always confident.”

* * *

A black limo and a big SUV waited for them at the airport. Amandine looked at the cars skeptically. There was no way all their stuff would fit.

The late afternoon sun in Thailand was relentless. The air was so full of moisture, her dress clung to her. “My god,” she breathed.

“Let’s get you inside the limo,” Gavin said, while workers around them loaded the cars with suitcases.

She didn’t argue as her husband opened the door for her. The cool dry air in the limo provided instant relief. “It’s so hot.”

“A little hotter than L.A., but it’s the humidity.” He handed her a bottle of ice-cold mineral water. “It’ll be better at the house. We run the AC twenty-four seven there, and it’s close to the ocean.”

In about ten minutes or so, the drivers started toward the Lloyds’ vacation home.

“So where is the house exactly?” she asked.

“On a private beach. It’s a fairly long strip.”

She wrinkled her nose, remembering her time in Jamaica. She’d gone with Brooke to a fancy resort, but it was more like an upscale prison. “Is it surrounded by a barbed wire fence and guards with machine guns?”

He gave her an odd look. “It is, actually, but they’re very discreet. We aren’t the only ones who own the beach. On one side is a property Ethan’s friend Alex Damon owns, and on the other is Steve Freeman’s.”

“Steve Freeman the rock star?”

“Yup. There are other houses farther down, like the Pryces’ family home and so on. No fences between the properties.”

That made sense. People wealthy enough to own something like this probably didn’t want to see ugly fences and guards lurking around. They wanted a tropical resort, not a concentration camp.

Their cars drove past a gate manned by three machine-gun toting guards, their white smiles startling against dark sweat-beaded skin. Then there was a two-lane road for another twenty minutes or so through vegetation the color of jade and malachite.

Located on a private beach surrounded by lush tropical forest, the Lloyds’ vacation home was a white two-story structure that sprawled like a happy Great Dane. A uniformed housekeeper and two men came out to greet them at the main entrance. The petite woman introduced herself as Fern; the others were Manup and Tad. The men started porting in Gavin and Amandine’s belongings.

The mansion was stunning. The foyer ceiling soared, giant windows facing the beach and forest. The floors were made of polished teak, and the kitchen, dining and living rooms all connected in an open layout that shared a gorgeous view of the aquamarine ocean. The master bedroom suite on the second floor looked out onto the beach and an outdoor pool, and had a huge balcony with a shade over an intimate glass table and chair set for two. Crisp white sheets and numerous fluffy pillows spread over the king-size bed. Unsurprisingly, the house also had a large office in the back that had a forest view, the vibrant greens providing a soothing counterpoint to the room’s dark wood paneling.