Risking It All: London Calling Book Three (16 page)

“Fine. Take what time you need. But Madeleine?”

“Yes?”

“It’s a long flight from Chicago.”

“You’re saying I could do my thinking on the way?” She sounded amused, if reluctantly.
 

“Just a thought.”

“It’s the trip itself I have to think about! I’m not worried about laying low and observing once I get there. That actually sounds kind of exciting.”

He grinned, thinking there wasn’t anything much more boring than surveillance. But she didn’t need to know that. “Give yourself a chance.” He didn’t realize his words echoed the same sentiment as Frank’s from earlier in the day. “It’ll be an adventure.” He held his breath, hoping she’d take his words as intended.
 

Sure, he wanted information on Payne. But as much as that, he wanted to help Moneypenny.

The furious sound of typing was his only answer for several seconds. When she finally spoke, the air leaked out of his lungs in relief.

“I’m booked.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

M
ADELEINE
TUCKED
HERSELF
behind a large potted plant at a round, wooden table. Not waiting for help, she cranked the umbrella high, even though the day was slightly overcast, and she sat in an area shaded by the restaurant.
 

Leaving her sunglasses perched on her nose, she adjusted the floppy brimmed hat so it wasn’t blocking her view of the couple sitting several tables away, practically perched atop the sea wall that created one border for the city of St. Helier.
 

The man sat facing her, and she looked her fill of his midnight hair and darkly tanned skin. Even this far away, she could see he was unusually tall with a corresponding width that was quite impressive. The woman seated across from him seemed tiny in comparison.
 

Madeleine couldn’t see the woman, only the dark cascades of hair waving down her back. Odds were, they made a strikingly handsome couple. Regardless, even though she didn’t know his companion, she’d have recognized
his
face anywhere.

Sebastian Payne.

A shiver ran up Madeleine’s back, even though the weather was warmer than anything in Chicago yet for several months. All in all, she conceded the trip was a much needed and altogether pleasing reintroduction to the world.

A server approached, blocking her view of the couple. She placed her order for a pot of steamed mussels and the complementary house white. Another trip by her waiter left a tall iced water with mint leaves floating on top.
 

Madeleine drank deeply, thirsty from her trek around town. The entire island was only about forty-five square miles, and that was arguable with the dramatically changing tides, revealing massive expanses of beach when it was low. Her hotel wasn’t far away, a contemporary glass and steel affair with balcony views over St. Aubin’s bay. Dominic booked it, stepping in to change her reservations after seeing her arrangements to stay in a small bed and breakfast. Since arriving a few days before, she happily combined her duty to follow Sebastian Payne with taking in as much of the small island as possible.

Not bad for a recluse.

She drifted her eyes back to the couple, careful to appear nonchalant. Their conversation appeared heated, or at least heightened. Mr. Payne leaned forward as the woman spoke, hands waving in emphasis of some point she was trying to make.

Despite Madeleine’s misgivings about spying on someone, Sebastian Payne intrigued her. They were close in age, but he exuded power beyond his years. He rarely smiled, and the few times she managed to get close, the intensity of his dark chocolate eyes made her step back again. They were so nearly black she could hardly tell where his pupils began. Long, sooty lashes made him appear as though he wore eyeliner. But the only softness about him was his mouth with its slightly fuller bottom lip.

She blushed, telling herself it was because she hadn’t been around many men for years, except for her father’s doctors and physical therapists.
 

And what a man Sebastian Payne was.

Using the linen napkin provided, she blotted the moisture dotting her upper lip and brow. The waiter arrived with her pot of mussels and a crusty baguette on the side. She lifted the lid and steam bathed her face along with the aroma of wine, herbs, shallot, and butter. Unselfconsciously, she folded her napkin into the neckline of her blouse and tucked in.

Using the small fork provided, she removed one mussel from its shell. Biting into the plump flesh, she was immediately taken back to her first visit to Brussels in her modeling days. Setting down the fork, she picked up the empty shell and deftly used it as a pincer to pluck the next mussel from its home. Suddenly, she wished they served traditional frites alongside.

She didn’t care about the broth dripping along her fingers or whether anyone was watching. For the first time in years, she felt free.

Until, that is, she looked up to find Mr. Payne’s powerful gaze drilling into her.
 

Madeleine swallowed hard, dabbing her mouth. Trying her best to remain calm and collected, she picked up her glass to take a sip of wine. It was too bad she bobbled it on the return and tipped it over, sloshing out the rest of its contents. She scrambled to retrieve it, but the glass rolled across the table to shatter on the brick pavers below.

The waiter was there in an instant, efficiently sweeping up the glass and wiping up the mess. Another employee appeared, this time it looked to be the manager, with a replacement. He carefully set it to the side, away from the rest of her dishes.

With a weak smile, she thanked them, and then braced herself to peek towards Sebastian and his guest. She didn’t stop to question why she thought of him solely by his first name now.

She needn’t have worried about making a scene. They were gone, their table cleaned and already reset.
 

With a sinking feeling, she pushed away her meal, no longer hungry. For about thirty seconds, she vacillated on whether to try to pick up their trail or leave well enough alone for the rest of the day. The look he’d shot her made her uncomfortable and she wondered whether he knew who she was.

Or worse, why she was there.

She pulled the wine toward her to take the place of the mussels. She needed to get a grip. This was probably the real reason Dominic sent her on this goose chase. It wasn’t so much as finding anything out about Sebastian as it was getting her out and about again. She’d become maudlin and overemotional the past few years. Just because she modeled a few front covers and had been on Broadway before that did not mean everyone was running around after her now. Smoothing a hand over her frizzed curls, she doubted anyone would remember anyway.
 

The waiter returned to remove her plates, and she settled down a little into her chair to look out over the water and enjoy her wine. Thinking about her mission on the island, she admitted her success so far was limited.
 

She knew where Sebastian lived but hadn’t been able to get nearly close enough to see the actual house. He spent a small amount of time downtown in the city of St. Helier, but his office building was secured too. Most days she sat outside trying to figure out if any of the visitors coming and going might be his. She’d begged off today, thinking the exercise was futile. Now Madeleine questioned the decision, curious whether his guest met him somewhere else or here at the restaurant.

She sighed, tipping her glass to finish the wine. Concluding the trip was a bust so far, she stood, determined to find something,
anything
of use to Dominic. She picked up her hat and crammed it over her thick curls. Then she grabbed her bag and looped it over her shoulder.
 

Turning to leave, she cannoned straight into Sebastian.

Staggering back a step, she looked squarely into his eyes. Brows lowered, he looked fierce and forceful, unmoved by the impact of her body against his. Belatedly remembering the need for discretion, she lowered her gaze and sidestepped to move around him.

“Excuse me,” she murmured.

His hand shot out to detain her. His grip was light, but all she could do was stare at his fingers wrapped around her arm. Willing away the nightmare flashes of memory, she breathed deep, determined to remain controlled.

“Please let go of me.”
 

Something in her tone or expression must have betrayed her state of mind. Immediately, he dropped his hand. But when she took another step to move away, he blocked her by moving his big body into her path.

Confused and a little bit scared, she fell back on belligerence as a weapon. “Would you please
move
?”

“No, I won’t.” And he didn’t. Instead, she found herself being ushered back to the table she vacated only moments before. Waving a hand, he indicated she should sit.

She sat. Then she got mad at herself for being a pushover. Thrumming her fingers on the table, she deliberately raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side.
 

“Don’t waste your time pretending you aren’t following me.”

Madeleine stopped her chin from quivering by clenching her jaw. Silent, she continued to stare at him.

“I do not tolerate predatory women.” His lip curled. “Do you think you’re unique? Special?”

Comprehension dawned. In a brilliant turn of the tables, she hadn’t been recognized and subsequently followed. Rather, Sebastian assumed she was after
him
.
 

Which she was, but not for the reasons he assumed.

The irony was too much. Peals of laughter burst from her, shocking him into rearing back. Madeleine laughed long and hard, something she hadn’t done since she could remember. As her chortles faded into hiccups, she pressed her fingers beneath her eyes to catch a few mirthful tears that escaped.

A handkerchief appeared in front of her. Peeping up, she saw his grim expression. Close up, he seemed even younger. In fact, he couldn’t be much more than two or three years older than her.

She took the cotton kerchief and dabbed her eyes. Straightening, she braced both hands against her thighs and looked up again. This time he was waiting with arms crossed and an arrogant sneer.

It nearly set her laughing again.

She clapped a hand over her mouth when a small snort escaped. Tears streaming from the pressure of containing her mirth, she mopped at her eyes, no longer caring whether she smeared mascara or not.

“What the
hell
do you think is so funny?”

She frantically shook her head, refusing to answer because she knew opening her mouth would set forth a new flurry of merriment. Not that he didn’t deserve it. The man was losing serious points for not having a speck of good humor about him.

“You think it’s funny to follow me?” His voice was low and dangerous. Madeleine sobered instantly. “I’m warning you—stay away. For your own good.”

Madeleine stared. She crumpled his handkerchief in her hand as he pushed back from the table and marched away. For a large man, he was surprisingly graceful.

Too bad his last words sounded suspiciously like a threat.

***

It didn’t help that Frank’s words of caution still replayed in Dominic’s head. As Saturday approached, Natalie offered ever more creative excuses for them not to see each other.

Even with his ironclad confidence, it was hard not to take it personally.
 

He buttoned the studs on his formal shirt and fixed his silver cufflinks. Expertly, he looped the silk bowtie and fastened it perfectly, first attempt. Lips slightly tilted, Dominic decided luck must be on his side.
 

His phone vibrated. He turned off the sound earlier but left the power on in case any emergencies cropped up with the business. He left his tip-top team in charge, but the unexpected could happen any time.
 

He answered the call. “Hey Frank.”

“I’m here, lover boy.”

Dominic grunted.
 

“And hurry up, Nicky. I’m double-parked.”

He really did have a gift for hiring smartasses. Between Frank and Moneypenny, he never worried about sniveling employees offering platitudes in an attempt to please him. He was lucky to have an entire day pass without snark.

Emerging from the hotel, he spied his driver parked about twenty feet away. Horns blared as he approached. The other drivers were obviously displeased with Frank for blocking the road.
 

With supreme indifference, he cheerfully waved back before sliding into the front seat. Laughing, Frank engaged the car into drive and proceeded to merge into traffic.
 

“You charmer. I was about to flip them my one-fingered wave.”

Dominic grinned. He was more than familiar with Frank’s off-color grumbling and nonverbal communication style with other drivers. The man was priceless.

“Frankie, you’re the best.”

“Damn right,” he wheezed. “Ms. Enfeld know you’re coming tonight?”

Dom tipped his head back then rolled it sideways on the headrest. “Would it be possible,” he mused, “for you to at least
pretend
you’re not listening to our conversations in the back?”