The Yuletide Engagement & A Yuletide Seduction (23 page)

No, there was nothing in this room to indicate that Jane Smith had once been Janette Smythe-Roberts. And not a single thing in the house, she knew, to say she had ever been Janette Granger, Paul Granger's wife. As Jane had done herself, her parents had destroyed anything that would remind them she had ever been married to Paul Granger, and that included disposing of any photographs of them together. Including their wedding photographs.

“I really couldn't say, dear,” her mother answered vaguely. “He didn't really seem to want anything, did he, David?” She looked at her husband for support.

“No, he didn't.” Jane's father seemed to answer a little too readily for Jane's comfort. “He just spent a rather pleasant hour here, chatting about this and that, and then he left again.” He shrugged his shoulders.

From the little she had come to know about Gabe, he didn't have “pleasant hours” to waste chatting! “Daddy, the man sat back and watched as your company floundered and almost fell, and then he stepped in with an offer you couldn't refuse—literally!” she said exasperatedly. “How on earth could you have just sat there and taken tea with the man?”

“What happened in the past was business, Janette,” her father answered firmly, showing some of his old spirit. “And you have to give the man some credit for keeping on most of the original staff and turning the company around.”

She didn't have to give Gabriel Vaughan credit for anything! But then, her parents had no idea of the way the man had tried so relentlessly to hound her down three years ago. Oh, Gabe had asked her parents for her whereabouts too, and in the circumstances her parents
had decided she had already been through enough heartache, and had refused to tell him where she was.

That was when the lies had begun, on Jane's part, her guilt taking on the form of protectiveness from any more emotional pain for her parents. They had already suffered enough.

And so her parents simply had no idea of how Gabe had gone to each of her friends in turn with the same question, how for three months she hadn't been able to contact anyone she knew for fear Gabriel Vaughan would get to hear about it and somehow manage to find her.

Her parents weren't even aware that Gabe was part of the reason she had chosen to open her business under the name Jane Smith. They'd believed her when she'd told them it was because she would prefer it that no one realised she had once been Janette Smythe-Roberts. They'd been through too many humiliations themselves concerning their change of financial circumstances not to believe her!

But now Gabe had been here, to their home, and there was just no way that Jane, having come to know him a little better this last week, believed he had simply come here for tea and a pleasant chat!

“You could have done all that yourself if he had backed you financially rather than taken over the company,” she reasoned tautly. He had just done that for Richard Warner; he could have done the same for her father three years ago!

Her father shook his head, smiling sadly. “Gabriel Vaughan is not a charitable institution, Janette, he's a businessman. Besides, I was almost sixty then—far too old to dredge up the youthful enthusiasm needed to turn the company around.”

Jane bit back her angry retort, knowing that in a way her father was right about Gabe; he hadn't been the one responsible for breaking her father's spirit. The person who had done that was dead, and beyond anyone's retribution.

Paul, her own husband, was responsible for what had happened to her father's company, for all that had happened three years ago.

And now she was back full circle to those feelings of guilt that always assailed her whenever she visited her parents.

“I still think it's very odd for Gabriel Vaughan to have come here,” she muttered.

It was so odd, she decided later on the slow drive home, that she intended, at the first opportunity, to find out exactly what he had thought he was doing by going to see Daphne and David Smythe-Roberts!

 

“J
ANE!”
Felicity greeted her warmly as she recognised her voice on the other end of the telephone line. “How marvellous! I was just about to call you.”

“You were?” Jane prompted warily.

It had taken her twenty-four hours of thought, of trying to sit back from the problem, to try and work out how best to approach solving it. And her problem was Gabriel Vaughan. Wasn't it always?

But the problem this time wasn't how to avoid him, but how to meet him again without it appearing as if she had deliberately set out to do so. Not knowing where his rented apartment was, or where he had set up his office for his stay in England, she had been left with only one line of attack: Felicity and Richard Warner.

She had telephoned the other woman with the intention
of calling in to see her, and at the same time casually bringing the conversation round to Gabriel Vaughan.

“I was.” Felicity laughed happily. “I'm feeling so much better now, and Richard and I did so much want to say thank you for all your help—”

“There's no need—”

“So you've already said,” the other woman dismissed lightly. “We happen to disagree with you. I suggested we invite you out to dinner, but Richard said that was like taking coals to Newcastle! But being a woman I don't think that's the case at all; I know just how nice it is to let someone else do the cooking for a change!”

Felicity was right, of course. Because Jane cooked for a living, most people seemed to think she just threw meals together for herself like the ones she served to them. She didn't, of course, and one of the few luxuries she allowed herself was to occasionally order a take-out pizza!

“It's a lovely thought, Felicity.” She answered the other woman politely. “But there really is no need. And I have no wish to play gooseberry—”

“Oh, but you won't be; we're going to invite Gabe to make up the foursome!” Felicity announced triumphantly.

Jane wanted to see Gabe, needed to see him—wasn't that the reason for her call in the first place?—but did she really want to sit down and have dinner with the man?

The answer to that was definitely no; the last time the two of them had had dinner together Gabe had kissed her until her legs felt weak! But the other side of the argument was that they wouldn't be alone this time, so there would be no occasion for him to take such liberties.
Another positive thing about accepting this invitation was that she wouldn't have organised meeting Gabe again; Felicity and Richard would be their hosts for the evening…

“Jane?” Felicity prompted uncertainly at her continued silence.

She quickly flicked through her business diary that always sat beside the telephone. With only a week to go to Christmas, she really was heavily booked. But she also appreciated she wasn't going to find a better opportunity for meeting Gabe on more neutral ground than this.

Not that she had any idea how she was possibly going to broach the subject of his visit to her parents—or, rather, the Smythe-Robertses—all she could hope was that an opportunity would present itself some time during the evening.

“I only have a cocktail party to cater for on Tuesday evening,” she told Felicity thoughtfully. “I just may be able to make dinner for eight-thirty that evening, if that's any good for you and Richard…?” And, of course, Gabriel Vaughan. Because if he wasn't there, the whole evening would, as far as she was concerned, be a complete waste of time.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the Warners' invitation, or the reason behind it; it was just that ordinarily there were so many other things she could have done on Tuesday evening—like taking a rest for a few hours.

“Lovely.” Felicity accepted instantly. “We'll book Antonio's. Shall we call for you? Or perhaps Gabe would—”

“I'll meet you all at the restaurant,” Jane put in quickly, well acquainted with the popular Italian restaurant. “I can't leave until the people at the cocktail
party have gone on to the theatre, so I can't guarantee it will be exactly eight-thirty when I get there.”

She had no intention—no matter how Felicity might still think she was trying to matchmake!—of going to the dinner party as Gabe's partner for the evening, and she didn't want to give that impression by arriving at the restaurant with him.

“As long as you get there eventually,” Felicity said lightly. “See you Tuesday.” She rang off.

Jane replaced her own receiver much more slowly. She had her wish—she was going to see Gabriel Vaughan again…

She had never thought a time would come when she would willingly place herself in his company!

She only hoped she didn't live to regret it!

“J
ANE!”
Antonio himself came out of his kitchen to greet her when she arrived at the restaurant shortly after eight-thirty on Tuesday evening.

She wasn't deliberately late: she'd been delayed clearing up from the cocktail party. And then she'd had to change before coming here. Luckily she had taken her black dress and shoes with her, and had been able to drive straight to the resturant once she had finished tidying up.

She and Antonio were old friends. Pasta hadn't been something she was too familiar with preparing two years ago, and so she had gone to the expert so that she might learn before opening up her own business. She had spent a month here at the restaurant working in the kitchen at Antonio's side, and despite what she had heard about temperamental Italian chefs—and Antonio was definitely an example of that!—her month here had been highly enjoyable, and by the end of that time she and Antonio were firm friends.

They kissed each other on both cheeks in greeting, Jane grinning up at the handsome Italian. “I'm meeting Mr and Mrs Warner,” she explained.

Dark brows rose over teasing brown eyes. “And Mr Gabriel Vaughan,” he added pointedly.

Gabe was here! She hadn't spoken to either Felicity or Richard since the telephone call on Sunday, so she'd had no idea whether or not Gabe had accepted their invitation. Antonio's speculative teasing assured her that not only had he accepted, but he was obviously already here!

“And Mr Gabriel Vaughan.” She dryly echoed Antonio's words. “Stop grinning like that, Antonio; this is business.” Which wasn't strictly true, but it certainly wasn't pleasure either, not in the way Antonio thought it was!

“Always business with you, Jane.” He held up his hands exasperatedly. “Although you never came to work in my kitchen dressed like that!” He looked at her admiringly, the black fitted dress showing the slender perfection of her figure, its short length revealing long, shapely legs. She had brushed her hair loosely about her shoulders, having applied some light make-up, and a peach gloss to her lips.

No, she had to admit, she had never come to work in Antonio's kitchen dressed like this…!

And she had delayed going to the table long enough! “Point me in the right direction, Antonio,” she requested.

“I will do better than that.” He took a firm hold of her elbow. “Tonight you are the customer, Jane; I will personally show you to your table.”

Having the extremely tall, incredibly handsome proprietor of the restaurant guide her through the dining-room to her table wasn't conducive to the low-profile life she liked to lead, with all eyes turning in their direction. And Jane couldn't even bring herself to look at the three
people already seated at the table he took her to, aware that the two men stood up when Antonio pulled back her chair with a flourish for her to sit down.

Antonio paused to pick up one of her hands, bending to kiss the back of it lightly. “It's wonderful to see you again, Jane,” he told her huskily, devilment gleaming in those dark brown eyes before he turned and walked arrogantly back to his kitchen.

Devil just about described him, Jane decided with affectionate irritation, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Antonio had deliberately—

“Mutual admiration society?” rasped an all-too-familiar voice.

Jane turned calmly to meet the hard mockery in those aqua-blue eyes, hopefully revealing none of the nervousness she felt at meeting this man again. Nervous, because the last time they had met he had kissed her. And, worse than that, this man had visited her family home, had talked with her parents, and she still had no idea why, or what he had learnt by going there.

“As it happens, Gabe, yes,” she answered him lightly. “I admire Antonio as a chef immensely. And I believe he respects my ability too,” she added challengingly.

Heavens, Gabe looked so handsome in his black evening suit and snowy white shirt, the dark thickness of his hair lightly brushing the shirt collar. Jane's breath caught in her throat as she returned the steadiness of his gaze.

She had to thrust her trembling hands beneath the table, on the pretext of placing her napkin across her knees, but in reality so that he shouldn't see that shaking of her hands, and speculate as to the reason for it.

Meeting Gabe again, she decided, under any circumstances, was a mistake!

“Good evening, Felicity, Richard.” She turned warmly to the other couple. “And once again thank you for inviting me.”

“Our pleasure,” Richard assured her warmly, much more relaxed than when Jane had last seen him.

“I had no idea you knew Antonio?” Felicity teased interestedly.

Jane ruefully returned the other woman's smile. But even as she did so she could feel that aqua-blue gaze still on her. Had no one ever told Gabe it was rude to stare? Probably, she acknowledged ruefully, but, as she knew only too well, Gabe was a law unto himself, and would do exactly as he pleased. And at the moment, despite how uncomfortable it might make her feel, it pleased him to stare at her!

“I worked here for a while,” she explained to Felicity; what was the point in doing anything other than telling the truth? She worked for a living, and, no matter how much her parents might hate the fact that she had to do so, it was an irreversible fact! “It was where I learnt to avoid the flying kitchen utensils,” she recalled ruefully; Antonio's patience was non-existent when it came to his cooking staff!

“Temperamental, is he?” Gabe drawled dismissively.

Once again she calmly returned his gaze. “Most men are, I've found,” she told him softly.

“You meant in the kitchen, of course,” Gabe returned challengingly.

She gave a slight inclination of her head. “Of course,” she agreed dryly.

Gabe chuckled, shaking his head. “You meant no such thing,” he acknowledged, visibly relaxing as he sat forward, elbows resting on the table-top. “It's good to see you again, Jane Smith,” he told her huskily.

She wasn't quite sure how she felt about seeing him again! Her pulse rate had definitely quickened at how handsome he looked in his evening suit, so powerfully male. And yet deep inside her was still that fear of what he might, or might not, have learnt on his visit to her parents' home. And at the moment she wasn't sure which emotion was the dominant one!

“How are the flowers?” he prompted softly at her continued silence. “Or did you give them away to the first person you saw after I left the other evening?” he added self-derisively.

Jane gave Felicity and Richard a self-conscious glance, but they both gave every impression of being engrossed in their menus. Although Jane was sure that Felicity, for one, romantic that she was, was listening avidly to their exchange.

As for the flowers, Jane hadn't been sure initially whether he meant the flowers he had given her or the roses he had given to her parents! Thankfully, his second question had clarified that for her.

“That would have been the height of bad manners, Gabe,” she returned coolly. “Especially considering all the trouble you went to to give them to me,” she added pointedly.

“Oh, it was no trouble at all, Jane,” Gabe returned huskily, eyes glowing with laughter—at her expense. “And you did give me dinner afterwards.”

Devil!

She had thought she was meeting him challenge for
challenge, but from the grin Felicity shot her way she knew Gabe had definitely won this particular round. “As I recall,” she said derisively, “you had to help cook it!”

“It's such fun cooking together, isn't it?” The effervescent Felicity simply couldn't stay out of the conversation any longer. “We used to do it all the time, didn't we, Richard?” She turned warmly to her handsome husband.

Richard looked up from his menu. “We still do, if your condition is anything to go by!” he drawled teasingly.

Felicity blushed prettily. “I was actually talking about cooking together, darling,” she rebuked laughingly.

Jane couldn't help but admire the obvious happiness of this married couple. Felicity was the same age as her, and yet the other woman had a marvellous husband who obviously adored her, two lovely daughters, and a third child on the way.

Jane had longed for those things too once; for a while she'd even thought that she actually had them. Her expression was wistful now as she realised how fleeting that dream had been.

Then she realised Gabe was watching her, dark brows raised questioningly as he saw the different emotions flitting across her face!

She deliberately schooled her features into their usual inscrutable expression. “Time to order, I think,” she murmured pointedly, smiling up at Vincenzo as he gave her a friendly wink of recognition.

But her own smile wavered and faded as she turned back and found Gabe was still watching her, the harsh expression on his face saying he didn't appreciate her friendly exchange with the waiter one little bit.

Well, what had he expected? She was twenty-eight
years old, and just because she was disillusioned with the opposite sex that did not mean that men didn't still flirt with her! Besides, hadn't Gabe himself been doing that since the moment the two of them were introduced?

His scowling expression seemed to say it was okay for him to do it, but not any other man!

Which wasn't very realistic on his part; most men liked to flirt, but that didn't mean they wanted it to go any further than that. And Vincenzo was a prime example of that. Jane knew for a fact that he adored his wife. Besides which, Anna would probably beat her husband to a pulp if he went any further than flirting with another woman!

Gabe's scowl lightened slightly as he saw that Vincenzo spoke to Felicity with the same warmth he had to Jane seconds earlier, Gabe's expression becoming rueful as he turned and saw Jane's mocking one. He shrugged, as if to say, Okay, my mistake.

It wasn't the only mistake he had made, Jane decided irritably. He had no right to feel jealous of the other man in the first place! One bunch of flowers and a home-cooked meal did not give him any rights where she was concerned!

But as the evening progressed, with Felicity and Richard's presence ensuring that it went smoothly, it became more and more obvious to Jane that she still had no idea how to introduce the subject of his visit to her parents. It was impossible to introduce such a delicate subject casually into the conversation. Even Felicity's questions to Gabe on how his work in England was going only elicited a dismissive reply that he was keeping himself busy.

By the end of the evening Jane felt thoroughly
frustrated at not being able to find out what she really wanted to know: why Gabe had visited her parents on Friday!

“Did you drive here, Gabe?” Richard asked as they prepared to leave the restaurant. “Or can Felicity and I offer you a lift home?”

“I was hoping Jane might offer to drive me.” Gabe answered the younger man, but his aqua-blue gaze was fixed compellingly on Jane at she looked up at him sharply. “I noticed you only drank half a glass of wine with your meal,” he drawled. “So I guessed you must have driven here yourself.” He added, “I came by cab.”

With satisfaction, it seemed to Jane. And he noticed too damn much!

But if she did drive him home maybe then she would find the opportunity—? Who was she kidding? There was no way that she could think of to casually introduce the subject of his visit to the Smythe-Robertses' home!

“I'll drive you home,” she offered flatly. After all, with the other couple present, what choice did she have? “Thank you both for dinner.” She turned to Felicity and Richard. “I've enjoyed it.”

And she had. The food had been superb, as usual, and with the other couple present the conversation had flowed smoothly too. Even Gabe's annoying presence hadn't jarred too much as, after his initial terseness, he seemed set to be charming for the rest of the evening. And so Jane's only irritation with the evening was that question regarding her parents. And the way things stood she might just have to let that go. If it wasn't repeated, then perhaps it wasn't a problem…?

“Jane!” Antonio left his kitchen for the second time that evening as he came out to hug her goodnight, smiling
down at her as he still held her in his arms. “I have two wonderful new recipes that you would love,” he told her huskily. “Come in and see me when you have the time, hmm?”

She answered Antonio positively, explaining that it would have to wait until after the New Year now, as she was so busy, all the time aware that Gabe was listening to their conversation with a sceptical glitter in his eyes and a mocking twist to those firm lips.

“Sorry about that,” she apologised dismissively as they walked out to her van, having parted from the other couple, Gabe's hand light on her elbow. “Antonio and I are old friends.”

“So you explained earlier.” He nodded tersely as she unlocked the doors. “‘Come and try my recipes' is certainly a twist on ‘etchings'!”

Jane turned to give him a cold look once they were seated inside her van. “Antonio is a married man!” she told him disgustedly.

“And you have no interest in other women's husbands,” Gabe remembered dryly.

“None whatsoever,” she acknowledged stiffly as she turned on the ignition, warming the engine, as well as themselves. The weather outside was still icy cold, although the snow of last week had now disappeared. “I would never cause another woman that sort of pain!”

Gabe sat back, perfectly relaxed. “Then it's as well I'm not still married, isn't it?” he said with satisfaction.

Jane made no reply, not quite sure what he meant by that remark—and not sure she wanted to be, either! This man had so many other minuses against her ever becoming involved with him that his being married
would have come last on her list of dislikes where he was concerned!

“Perhaps you would care to tell me where I'm to drive you?” she prompted distantly.