Redemption in Love (Hearts on the Line) (3 page)

Brooke flipped a switch on her left and the entire hangar section moved, like a conveyor belt in a dry cleaner’s, except the one in the closet was nicer and prettier with a shiny chrome finish. A Ferrari-red Chanel with spaghetti straps swayed by. It still had the tag from a fancy boutique store. Amandine had no idea why Josephine had bought it when she had at least twenty other dresses she hadn’t worn. Brooke flipped the switch again, and the belt paused, showing Amandine a row of pre-marriage clothes she’d hung there three years ago. All of them combined cost less than the Chanel.

“Still got all this stuff?” Brooke said, her lips pursing. “Let me get rid of it. You’re going to need more space at the rate Josephine keeps buying.”

“But they’re still in good shape. I like to keep them for my studio time.” Amandine used to take pride in being one of the best bargain shoppers in the state of California. “Can you imagine me wearing a four thousand-dollar Dior to paint?”

Brooke crossed her arms. “Good point. Okay, let’s sort them. You don’t need this many.”

Amandine sighed. “All right.”

“Besides” —Brooke started the conveyor belt again— “you should think about getting some paint on that Dior. When you’re a famous artist, the dress’ll go for at least a million precisely because of the paint splatter.”

“Ha, I doubt it. I’m not that talented.” It was Amandine’s default response to anybody who commented on her artistic endeavors. The people in Gavin’s circle tended to be discriminating, and she didn’t want to appear arrogant. Besides, she doubted she’d ever create anything people would pay a million bucks for. Painting was something she did to express her emotions and for her own enjoyment. She’d never shown them to anyone except Brooke. They weren’t for strangers to take apart and comment on.

“Girl, you totally are. You could be the next Renoir.”

The belt stopped again. Brooke pulled out a royal blue linen sheath dress and a coral pink raw silk one that had a loose skirt.

“Blue,” Amandine said.

“Really?” Brooke cocked an eyebrow. “You never pick an outfit this fast.”

“I know, but I want the blue.” That particular shade popped, and Amandine wanted to be noticed.

“Okay.” She looked at the tag. “Wow, you haven’t even worn this thing once, and Josephine paid two grand. The woman’s crazy. Does she have any idea how much she’s spending on all this when you haven’t worn half of it?”

Amandine nodded. “She believes in spending every penny of the budget Gavin’s set.”

“She’s like a government agency. Must spend every penny lest your budget shrink!”

“Sort of like that.”

“Now for the shoes…”

Amandine moved to the shelves. The selection was overwhelming. How many high heels did a woman need? “I’ll take these.”

A pair of cute black and blue shoes with slim ankle straps and sparkly heart accents would go well with the dress. Brooke pulled out a lovely pink cashmere shawl. “This should complete the look.”

A little over half an hour of makeup and hair later, Brooke declared Amandine ready. Amandine wanted to linger and make sure she looked perfect, but Brooke won the battle and dragged her out of the bedroom and into the waiting car.

* * *

Everything at the small airport was a shade of gray. Thank god for the gorgeous California sky, flawlessly azure from horizon to horizon.

Probably a good omen for the anniversary
.

“So, where’s Gavin?” Amandine put a hand over her forehead and squinted.

Brooke pointed. “Over there.”

Gavin stood, dark and glorious near the hangar that housed his jet. The wind ruffled his almost black hair and a perfectly tailored charcoal three-piece suit. Though a pair of sleek sunglasses hid his eyes, Amandine could sense his gaze on her.

Three years of marriage should have made her more blasé about how she felt about her husband. After all, familiarity was supposed to breed contempt…or at least some immunity to his charisma…but it was exactly like the first time they’d met. Five years before, Gavin had taken her breath away by just entering a room at her cousin Catherine’s party. Amandine had thought she’d never get him—he’d had his sights set on the more glamorous and sophisticated Catherine—but somehow she’d ended up with the man she wanted.

Wasn’t she lucky?

Then why do I feel like I got the shell
,
not the substance of the man?

She shook herself mentally. It was time she got over her little dissatisfactions and thought of all the blessings in her life. Countless women would have killed to trade places with her.

Gavin started toward them, and they met halfway across the blazing tarmac. He put his arms around her, their presence strong and comforting.

“Happy anniversary.” Gavin kissed her, and warm pleasure suffused her entire body. “You look stunning.”

“So do you.” Amandine put a hand to her bun. The wind was pretty strong out here, and it started to unravel her hair.

“Let it down,” he murmured, pulling a few pins out so that her hair tumbled over her shoulders. “Looks better this way.”

“Okay.” This close he smelled like warm cinnamon and wood, and she resisted the urge to kiss the exposed skin on his neck. He was always circumspect about public displays.

He smiled and tugged her hand. “Come on. I got you something.”

She let him lead her inside the hangar, all the while wondering what it could be. A luxury trip? Or some kind of plan to share his jet? Gavin had a habit of giving her the most outrageous things. They usually shocked her, then made her feel flustered and unsure. Saying “Thank you” seemed woefully inadequate.

The hangar door was already unlocked and open, and they moved forward, Brooke following behind. Inside was a jet Amandine had never seen before: a sleek cream-colored beauty.

“Like it?” Gavin asked.

“It’s pretty. Are you upgrading?”

“Nope. It’s yours.”

“What?”

Gavin smiled. “I thought it was about time you had your own.”

To do what?
“I don’t really travel that much.”

His gaze wavered for a moment, then steadied. “Of course you don’t. I wouldn’t either if I had to fly commercial. But you know, I felt really bad when I had to leave you alone in the Maldives after your diving incident, and even worse when you had to fly home on a regular airline.”

The accident had been her fault. She hadn’t been paying close enough attention, and she’d come up too fast, blacking out during the process. The doctor on the island had instructed her not to fly for a few days since the change in air pressure would be bad for her, even in a pressurized cabin. Though not understanding all the technicalities, she’d decided to follow the doctor’s advice and insisted Gavin go home without her. His appointments and meetings would’ve been impossible to reschedule.

“Flying first class wasn’t that bad,” she said.

“Uh-huh. Not even when airport security patted you down for your own good?” He snorted. “I don’t think so. Besides, I don’t like the idea of some guy pawing you like that.”

From the set look in his eyes, that was it. No point in arguing anymore.

“Let me show you the inside.” He led her up the steps into the interior of the jet.

It was all cream and the palest opalescent pink. A table with matching ivory chairs and couches dominated the area closest to the door. Panels that together formed her favorite painting, Renoir’s
Le Déjeuner des Canotiers
, made up the ceiling, Sistine Chapel-like. In the back, she found a bedroom with a king-sized bed complete with silky gold-striped linen, and a walk-in closet full of brand new clothes in her size. The bathroom sported a double-head shower and double vanity. Again, stocked with her preferred brand of toiletries.

Gavin spread his arms. “What do you think?” His eyes twinkled as he waited for her answer.

“It’s…grand. I don’t know what to say.”
I don’t know what to make of the fact that you keep giving me these extravagant things
. She and Gavin now owned two jets, one for her and one for him. Had she celebrated too prematurely? He must’ve thought she’d take on more duties or something at the various charities and fundraisers. Why else would he give her a jet?

“You could say, ‘thank you’.”

“Of course.” She pulled her lips back in a smile, though her cheeks felt rubbery now. “Thank you, Gavin.”

“You’re welcome. Now that we’re done here, let’s—” The vibration from his pocket interrupted him. He looked at his phone and scowled. “Excuse me. I need to take this.” With a flick of his wrist, he gestured at the rest of the plane. “Why don’t you look around? I’ll make it quick.”

* * *

“Yes?” Gavin said when the cockpit door closed behind him.

“Sorry to bother, but can you come?” said his oldest brother Jacob’s housekeeper Bee. It wasn’t her real name, but not many could pronounce her Vietnamese name correctly, so everyone called her Bee.

Gavin frowned. Why was she calling him from Jacob’s house phone? “What’s going on?”

“I feel worried. Mrs. Catherine acting strange.” Her accent thickened as she grew more agitated. “The other wife came, and Mr. Jacob left with her.”

What the hell?
“What other wife?”

“Mr. Jacob has other wife. Number One Wife.”

“Bee, there’s no ‘other wife’. Jacob only married once.” To Catherine.

“Yes, yes, he never divorce. So Mrs. Catherine is Number Two Wife.”

“Okay, slow down. Who is this Number One Wife?”

“Number One Wife from Las Vegas. Did…uh…sexy shows, and I think Mr. Jacob liked…” Bee cleared her throat. “Anyway Mrs. Catherine will not stop crying. She fire everyone and throw things!”

Gavin could hear the housekeeper’s breathing. Maintaining the giant Houston mansion was her pride and joy. Gavin had seen how spotless his older brother’s place was.

But the idea of Catherine throwing things was surreal. She was one of the most perfectly mannered high-society women he’d ever met. He couldn’t imagine the circumstances that would cause her to lose control to the point where she’d actually throw things.

Although he had to admit, if he understood correctly what Bee was saying, bigamy might very well do it.

Shit.

“She very angry,” Bee said. “Please, somebody need to come. I can’t stay, you know? I’m fired, too.”

“What about Jacob?”

“Not answer his phone.”

Damn it
. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.”

He hung up and considered his options. In her current state, Catherine would never let a stranger come inside her home, so sending someone from the concierge services firm he kept on retainer would be useless. For somebody like her, who liked being surrounded by staff who catered to her every whim, firing everyone meant that only family would do in this crisis.

What to do? Ask Ethan to go? No, he was swamped with work. Besides, Ethan wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type, and he thought poorly of Catherine. Mom was out—she despised her daughter-in-law, even though she’d never said a single ungracious word to Catherine. She’d killed all the yellow roses in her garden when she’d learned they were Catherine’s favorite. And Catherine’s own mother, Olivia Fairchild, was about as maternal as a piranha.

That left Gavin. Damn it. He didn’t want to go. He’d planned to spend the day with Amandine, but Catherine was family, and his mother had taught him better. No Lloyd turned his back on a family member in crisis.

Besides, this wasn’t just Catherine in a snit. If Jacob really had married someone before her—and failed to get a divorce before wedding Catherine—it was a horrific scandal that would rock his entire family. And most especially his poor mother.

Take Amandine, too? No. He shook his head. She and Catherine didn’t seem to get along that well. His sister Meredith had said it was because he was Catherine’s ex, though why that could ever be a problem, he might never know unless he grew a uterus. True, he’d proposed to Catherine first, but she’d turned him down in favor of his older brother. Since the moment she’d chosen Jacob, Gavin had been free to pursue whoever struck his fancy. He didn’t need her permission.

Gavin did the math. About three hours to reach Houston. Maybe half an hour calming Catherine down and assessing the damage Jacob had left behind for the family to clean up, then three hours back. It’d be cutting it close, but he could be back in time for dinner at La Mer. Amandine had been looking forward to it for weeks, and so had he.

A decision reached, he stepped out of the cockpit.

* * *

While Gavin was taking the call, Amandine took another look around the jet. It was a frightfully lavish gift.

Should she have prepared something more for the anniversary? An expensive sports car? A yacht?

Of course
,
you should have
,
you idiot! This is how people like him live
.
They don’t do something as plebeian as dinner
,
even if the restaurant is exclusive
.
How can you still not know this after three years of being his wife?

“Are you crying?” Brooke whispered under her breath.

“No.” She blinked away the moisture in her eyes.

“You totally are. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Drat, she didn’t want Gavin to see her crying. She needed to smile happily. That was the least she could do.

“You’re getting hormonal.”

“Probably.” That explained her tears. Yup.

The cockpit door opened. Shoving the phone back in his pocket, Gavin approached her. “That was…” He shook his head, his face unreadable. “Never mind. I need to go to Houston.”

“Now?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh.” Disappointment flattened her voice. “I thought you had the rest of the day off.”

“Sorry. I did too, but something urgent’s come up.”

“Can’t you send somebody else?” She bit her lower lip as soon as the question was voiced. She didn’t want to look whiny or anything, but damn it, she was his wife, and this was their anniversary. It was cruel to set all those lovely expectations for the day and then yank them away because of one lousy phone call.