For the Love of You (11 page)

Chapter 8

J
ewel changed her outfit three times, and she was still unsatisfied. Where were they going, exactly? She should have asked him, she worried while she took off the third dress and tossed it on the bed with the other two. He would be there in a half hour and she was still running around in her underwear. Panic set in. The room suddenly grew hot. She darted across the carpeted floor and adjusted the temp on the air conditioner. She then went to stare at the garments hanging in her closet. Again.

She couldn't recall the last time she'd gone out on a dinner date. How sad was that? After several more moments of indecision, she finally settled on a simple black dress, sleeveless, in a fabric that hinted at curves rather than defined them, with a hem that came just to her knees. Silver studs in her ears and a chunky silver-and-black rope chain for her neck.

Jewel took a step back and examined her full length in the mirror, turning right and left and of course trying to get an over-the-shoulder view. Pleased she fluffed her curls, added one more swipe of her bronzy lip gloss and a fingertip dab of her favorite body oil behind her ears and inside her wrists.

She studied her reflection. What would Craig think? Funny that it should matter. For the past few years two of the last things she thought much about were her appearance and her artistic penchant for needing approval, which had contributed to her downfall. The resurfacing of those emotions left her shaky inside, vulnerable—a place that she didn't want to ever return.

She gave a shake of her head as if to toss off the swirling thoughts and then reminded herself that it was one day, one night at a time. She truly had nothing to prove, and Craig Lawson could take her or leave her. Her gaze explored her reflection, settled on her expression, then the body encased in that dress. She smiled. Who was she kidding? For the time being, she preferred if he took her.

* * *

Craig pulled into the Fontaines' winding driveway at exactly five minutes to seven. He would have been there earlier but he didn't want to appear as eager as he felt. He put the car in Park, peeked up at the house through the driver's side window then got out while he slid one hand into his pants pocket and strode forward. He hesitated for a moment before ringing the bell and wondered for the thousandth time why he was overthinking a simple dinner.

In concert with the bell echoing in the house, the door opened. His stomach coiled, and his heart beat just a bit faster.
Damn.
His eyes ran over her from top to bottom, taking in every delicious inch.

“Hey. Hope I'm not early.”

“No. Right on time. Come in for a minute.” Jewel stepped aside to let him pass.

He stealthily inhaled the soft scent of her and relished that she smelled that good all over.

“So, where did you decide for dinner?” she asked and turned toward him.

“You look incredible,” he said with hunger in his voice. He stepped up to her, slid an arm around her waist and dipped his head until his mouth met hers. Jewel sighed softly. “I've been waiting for that all day,” he said against her lips.

“Worth it?”

“Absolutely.” His gaze rose and landed on Minerva, who was standing at the top of the stairs.

Jewel followed his line of sight. Her face heated. She stood a step back. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, fine,” she said and descended the stairs. “Good evening, Mr. Lawson.”

“Good evening.”

“I was coming down to fix a snack,” she said to Jewel. She gave her a quick once-over. “You two have a nice time.” She walked away and into the kitchen.

Jewel wished the floor would open. She slowly shook her head.

Craig turned to Jewel with a twinkle in his eye. “Ready?”

“Very.” She picked up her silver-toned shawl and her purse from the table in the foyer and led the way out.

* * *

“I don't think I realized that your housekeeper lived in,” Craig said as they pulled out of the driveway and onto the street.

“For about two years now.”

Craig took a quick look at her profile that was set and fixed on the road ahead. He got the impression that she didn't want to talk about it. But that didn't stop him from wanting to know what caused that look on her face.

“What happened two years ago?”

Jewel's expression tightened. She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. “I'd really rather not. It's a long story and not very pleasant.”

“I'm a storyteller. I examine life for a living. There isn't much that you could tell me that would surprise or repulse me,” he added with a smile.

“I needed help with my dad,” she said and offered nothing further.

When silence hung between them for a beat too long he said, “I get it. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

Her expression visibly relaxed. “Thank you. But what we
can
talk about is your film.”

He tugged in a breath and resigned himself to the idea that Jewel wasn't going to spill her guts—at least not yet—and for that matter neither was he. But what she didn't say was almost as important as what she did say. Clearly, there were problems with her father. Serious enough that she needed help to take care of him, which might explain a lot of things.

“Right now we're doing the table reads with the actors. The technical folks are working out logistics and scheduling, costumes and permits. This is all the behind-the-scenes stuff before the next phase kicks in.”

“Which is?”

“First day of shooting.”

She nodded slowly. “How much of the film will take place on the property?”

“On film it will seem like mostly all of it. But the way we have it worked out in terms of shot selection and scheduling, we should be finished shooting on your property in about a week, week and a half, tops. Unfortunately, in order to do that we start early and leave late.”

“I see. What about what's not shot on the property?”

“There are street scenes and some historic sites, both of which require permits, and the rest we can finish up on the lot in LA, if necessary. I'm hoping that we can do everything here. Cuts down on time and wear and tear on the actors and won't incur extra expenses for the budget.”

Craig slowed the car, peered up at the sign on the corner indicating Tchoupitoulas Street then turned. “That's the place up there,” he said with a lift of his chin.

“Emeril's?” she asked, clearly delighted. The lighted logo of the world-famous restaurant promised mouthwatering delights.

He glanced at her with a self-satisfied smile. “Hope you like it.”

Jewel laughed. “What is there not to like? In all the years that I've lived in Louisiana, I may have been here once—and that was ages ago. All I can remember was that the food was to die for. Since then he's opened other locations, had his own television show...”

“I have another surprise for you.”

She snapped her head in his direction. “What?”

Craig winked. “You'll see.”

He parked the car in the lot behind the restaurant, and they walked around to the front. The hostess greeted them.

“Mr. Lawson, welcome to Emeril's. Your table is ready. Please follow me.”

Craig placed his hand at the low dip of Jewel's back and guided her across the restaurant to their reserved table. He helped Jewel into her seat.

“Chef Lagasse will be right out.” The hostess smiled and walked away.

Jewel leaned across the table. “Wait, what did she just say?”

Craig leaned forward as well. The light of mischief sparkled in his eyes. “She said Chef Lagasse will be right out,” he responded and tried to maintain a level of utter seriousness.

“Very funny,” she tossed back. “You know him?”

“A little,” he hedged, enjoying the delight that he saw on her face. He would do anything to see that kind of happiness radiate from her, and to know that he was a part of it made the watching that much sweeter.

“Fine. Play coy. It doesn't become you.” She lifted her chin in a semblance of huff.

Craig chuckled. “How 'bout I tell you the whole story over breakfast?”

Her eyes widened. Her lips parted ever so slightly. “Very presumptuous.”

“I'm a risk taker, in every aspect of my life.” His gaze held hers steadily.

“Do you consider this—you and me—a risk?” she asked in a near whisper.

“Definitely. But it's a risk I'm willing to take.”

Rather than respond she lifted her glass of water and took a sip, as much to have something to do as to extinguish the fire in her belly.

* * *

Dinner wasn't simply dinner—it was an event, from meeting Chef Lagasse himself with his larger-than-life personality to being taken into the kitchen to watch the preparation of their meal to the food itself, which defied explanation.

When they left the restaurant three hours later, they were still laughing and attempting to one-up each other with the numerous delights of the evening.

“So you met him through your cousin Rafe?” Jewel said while she strapped herself in.

“Yep. Actually, Emeril's head chef is a good friend of Rafe's. He made the original introductions, and the rest, as they say, is history.” He put the car in gear. “So...breakfast?” He snatched a look at her.

Jewel turned to him and smiled. “I like my eggs scrambled.”

“I'll see what I can do about that.”

Chapter 9

T
hey pulled up in front of the hotel, and the valet hurried over to take the car.

“Nightcap? I'm sure the hotel bar is still open, or I can have them send something up,” Craig said while he helped Jewel from the car.

Now that she was here, the reality that she would spend the night with him in his hotel room hit home. “A nightcap sounds good...and your room is fine.”

He led her inside and across the wide reception area to the bank of elevators. He took out his card key from his inside jacket pocket.

The doors swished open and they stepped into his penthouse suite—a setup straight out of a movie, from the pale plush carpeting, conversation seating, low-slung tables and enormous television mounted on the wall to a full bar and working kitchen.

“Make yourself comfortable, and I'll order room service,” he said. He slipped out of his jacket and tossed it on a vacant chair.

Jewel set down her purse on the glass table and rested her shawl across the thickly padded couch. She crossed the wide expanse of space to the floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto the terrace. She opened the doors and stepped out into the warm night. The lights of the city spread out before her.

Oh, how she remembered nights like this, living like this, whatever she wanted only a phone call away, traveling, seeing the world. She sighed heavily. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Warm hands cradled her shoulders. A soft kiss dotted the back of her neck. “I almost forgot how beautiful this city can be,” Craig said into her hair.

Jewel drew in a breath and slowly turned around, finding herself surrounded by him. Her gaze rose. “It's had its share of problems. Still struggling and rebuilding, but the history will always remain.”

He angled his head to the side. “Sounds like my life.”

“Mine, too,” she admitted with an uneasy smile.

The pad of his thumb brushed across her cheek. “What parts—the struggle, the rebuilding, the history?”

“All of it. The choices that I made...”

“Do you regret them?”

She lowered her head. A frown knitted her brow. She looked right at him. “Sometimes. And when I do, I feel so...guilty.” She spat out the last word.

“But once the decision is made, we have to find a way to live with the aftermath.”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. It's not my business.” She started to move away.

The doorbell chimed. “Room service,” the voice called out.

“Be right back.”

* * *

Jewel wandered back into the main living space as the waiter set up the cart.

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Lawson?”

“No. Thanks.” He walked over to where he'd tossed his jacket, took out his wallet and handed over a sizable tip.

“Thank you, Mr. Lawson. Thank you very much. Enjoy your evening. Ma'am.” He nodded at Jewel then quietly let himself out.

Craig lifted the covers on the plates. Fresh fruit was on one platter and an assortment of exotic cheeses and dips and paper-thin crackers on the other.

“Wow, I'm hungry all over again, if that's possible,” she said eyeing the fare.

He took the bottle of white wine from the bucket, poured two flutes and handed one to Jewel.

“To making choices we can live with,” he said, raising his glass to hers.

Jewel lightly tapped his glass. “To choices.” She took a sip. “Hmm,” she hummed. “Good stuff.”

Craig walked over to the couch and sat down. He extended a hand to Jewel. She came and sat close beside him.

“You asked me how I do it,” he said.

“You don't have to—”

“I want to.” He looked in her eyes. “I want you to know.” He took a swallow of wine, paused reflectively and said, “It's never gotten easier. I thought it would. I thought I'd get to a point where I really didn't give a damn, instead of
acting
like I didn't.” The corner of his mouth flickered. He looked away. “I miss my sister and brother, my cousins. I haven't been to a family gathering in years, simply because I don't want to be in the same room with my father. So I've stayed away. I've kept busy. I've done everything that I can to show him how wrong he was about me and the choices that I made by being successful in everything I've undertaken.” He snorted a laugh. “None of that matters. Not once even after receiving a Golden Globe, or being on the front page of the papers, even getting my first Oscar, have I heard a word of congratulations from my father. Never.”

She reached out and covered her hand with his. Jewel saw the sadness in his eyes and the pain that threaded through his words. Her heart ached for him. She could never imagine her father not being a part of her life and rejoicing in her success. “Have you ever tried to reach out to him?” she asked tentatively.

He looked away, pushed up from the couch and stood. He went to retrieve the bottle of wine and refilled his glass. “I'd been gone and out of touch with him for about three years,” he began slowly, reeling in the memories. “I was in Paris when I got the call that I'd been nominated for my first Golden Globe. I just knew that if I told him, he would finally see that I'd made it, ya know.”

He heaved a sigh. “So, stupid me, I called. The housekeeper answered the phone, and I told her who I was. She came back to the phone a couple of minutes later only to tell me, ‘Mr. Lawson is busy. Do you care to leave a message?' I told her to tell him he could go straight to hell.” He snorted a nasty laugh. “That was the last time I called.”

“I'm...so sorry.”

He waved off her condolence. “Don't be. I'm used to it.”

“Are you?”

“More wine?” he replied instead.

She extended her glass. “Sure.”

Craig pushed the cart closer to them, loaded a cracker with two kinds of cheeses and popped it in his mouth. He refilled her glass.

Jewel reached for the seedless grapes. “You didn't answer my question. Are you used to it?”

“I'm used to the life I've chosen. I stopped asking myself if I should have done something different or stayed here and followed my father's dream for me. I know that if I'd listened to my father, I would have grown to resent him. I would've been miserable. So...our relationship or lack of one is the price I chose to pay for my decision.”

“It's so ironic that both of us made life-altering decisions with our fathers at the center of it,” Jewel said.

“But we're on opposite sides of the equation. You've never told me in so many words, but I put the pieces together. You gave up a career for your father, didn't you?”

She hesitated then nodded.

“Maybe you'll tell me the full story...when you're ready.” He squeezed her hand. “Me on the other hand, I pursued a career in spite of my father.”

She lowered her gaze. “What a pair, huh?”

“Yeah, what a pair...that for all of the crazy seem to fit very well together,” Craig said.

Jewel's lashes lowered over her eyes. “I think you're right...about the fit,” she said coyly.

Craig chuckled deep in his throat. “Why don't I show you the rest of the suite.” It wasn't a question. He stood, pulled her to feet, took their glasses and the rest of the wine, and walked toward his bedroom.

Jewel followed him down a short hallway into the master bedroom. Her heart beat double time with every footfall. The lights were already dimmed, but it was clear that the massive king-size bed was the centerpiece of the space. Even though it was a hotel room, it didn't have that utilitarian feel to it. It was cozy in a way, and it held the sexy scent of him. She stepped out of her shoes. There was a love seat by the window with a white shirt draped across the arm. The closet bared its holdings: an array of shirts, suits, slacks and sweaters. Several pairs of dress shoes, sneakers and work boots lined the bottom.

“The bathroom is through there,” he said, lifting his glass in the direction of the partially closed door.

Jewel nodded, suddenly nervous and she didn't know why. This was what she wanted, wasn't it?

“You okay?”

She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Yes. Fine.” She forced a smile. Her eyes jumped around the room.

Craig walked over to her. He lowered his head to look directly into her eyes. “Tell me what's wrong.” He held her shoulders.

“It's silly, really.”

“Most of the things that bug us are silly, but that doesn't mean they don't matter. So...what's up?”

She tugged in a breath and took his hands in hers. “Let's not talk about or worry about the silly stuff...not tonight. I don't want to think about it.”

“Whatever you want.” He cupped her face in his palms. His eyes roamed over her features. “What is it about you?” he murmured in wonder. His eyes narrowed. “I've told you things I've never told anyone,” he confessed.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I hope not. I don't want it to be.”

She studied him for a moment. “It's not only your father that did damage, is it?”

Craig took a step back. “That's definitely a conversation for another time.” He turned away and walked toward the lounge chair. He slung a hand into his pocket. Jewel came up beside him and slid her arm around his waist. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“Another time, then,” she whispered.

Craig turned. He threaded his fingers through her hair, loosening the curls to flow around her face and neck. He palmed the back of her head and pulled her toward him. No more words, no more hesitation. His mouth covered her lips, and he sucked in the sigh that floated up from her center and ignited his.

His arousal from her nearness kept him on simmer all night, but now that he had her in his arms, had tasted her again, felt the curves of her body melt into him, his response was swift, hard and throbbing.

He pressed against her, wanted her to feel what she had done to him, how crazy she'd made him. He reached behind her and unzipped her dress, peeled it away from her shoulders and down her frame until it fell to her feet. Her black bra was next. He tossed it onto the chair and took a half step back to look at her. Lowering his head he nuzzled the swell of her breasts. Her body shook, and a soft whimper escaped her lips.

Craig eased down her body, planting light kisses along her exposed skin until he was on his knees. He slid his fingers around the band of her panties and pulled them down to her ankles and then tasted her.

“Ooh!” Jewel gripped his shoulders. Her thighs trembled with each flick and stroke of his tongue.

Craig gripped her hips and held her fast, feasting until her trembling and soft cries were more than he could take. He rose, tugged off his shirt. Jewel unbuckled his belt and slid down his zipper. Craig stepped out of his slacks, toed out of his shoes. Jewel stepped over her dress and panties and backed up toward the bed, pulling Craig along with her.

Jewel scooted up to the top, Craig following until he hovered above her.

He pushed her hair away from her face, kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her mouth. His hands were everywhere. Jewel writhed beneath him, wanting him, letting him know the depth of her desire with each rotation of her hips.

Craig snatched up the thick pillow and shoved it under her hips. He rose up on his knees and reached over into the nightstand for a condom.

Jewel took it from him, tore it open with her teeth then slowly, erotically rolled the sheath down his length, much to Craig's delight.

He clasped her hips tightly in his hands. Jewel bent her knees. He lowered his head and tenderly kissed her, holding them both in a moment of unbridled anticipation. And then he was inside her.

Air rushed out of her lungs in a gasp. Her eyes slammed shut. He filled her, and in that moment, their initial coupling was more intense than the first, if that were possible.

In unison they moaned and sighed as pleasure whipped through them and they found their beat, slow and steady, hard and soft, meeting each other stroke for stroke.

Jewel clung to him, gave herself up and over to him. Her body came fully alive, vibrated from the inside out. She could barely think; her breath hitched, her heart pounded. She wanted him, all of him. She wanted him so deep inside her that he touched her heart. So when he lifted her legs and draped them across his shoulders, leaving her wide-open and vulnerable to his every move, tears of
yes, yes, yes
, sprang from her eyes. She buried her face in his neck and held on as the first wave of her climax began at the soles of her feet, shimmied up the backs of her legs, vibrated in her thighs, pooled in her pelvis and exploded with such power that the room spun. Her breathing ceased, and a scream clung in her throat until the next wave hit her with such force that her body stiffened as if electrocuted, and the sound that burst from the center of her being sent Craig up and over the edge of this world and into the next.

His head dropped onto the pillow of her breasts. He muttered a curse of disbelief as the final throes of release pumped through him.

* * *

Jewel lay curled against Craig's side with one leg draped across him while he gently caressed her, intermittently kissing her hair. So many thoughts scrambled in her head. She didn't want to get used to this, to need this. But it would be so easy. For as much as Craig Lawson wore the armor of the uncommitted, she sensed that there was a part of him that wanted more, that wanted to be connected. He claimed that he had no desire to forge a relationship with his father, yet everything that he did smacked of his need to have that void in his life filled. Even if he was only temporarily with her. She felt the longing in him every time he pushed into her, moaned her name. It was not only physical. He wanted a connection, to belong to someone.

Or...maybe it was all wishful thinking on her part. Projecting her own wants onto him. She closed her eyes. But even if she could make it true, what could she offer a man like Craig Lawson when she had her own empty places to fill?