For the Love of You (3 page)

“If I remember correctly, the original owner, Charles Biggs, was one of the few owners of these homes that didn't own slaves.”

“True. My great-great-grandparents worked here and earned a wage. They were free blacks. They lived in the house in the back. When the owner died, he left the house, the land, everything to my great-great-grandparents.” She huffed. “It didn't sit well with the neighbors.” Her gaze drifted off. “My granddad told me stories about how my greats fought off threats both physical and emotional from the landowners around here. Nothing worked, and eventually they came to respect my family.”

“Lot of history here,” he said respectfully and struggled to contain his surprise and excitement about the eerie similarities of their ancestors.

“Yes, there is.” She stared into her cup of tea. “So why are you here, Mr. Lawson?” She leveled her gaze on him, and something warm simmered in his belly.

“I believe that if you hear me out, you'll change your mind about renting out your home.”

Jewel seemed to study him for a moment, as if the weight of her reality pressed against her shoulders, and with a breath of apparent acceptance she said, “Let's talk out back.” She led the way to the veranda.

* * *

“Please, have a seat,” Jewel said, extending her hand toward one of the cushioned chairs.

“Thanks.” Craig sat and placed his plate and cup on the circular white wrought-iron table.

Jewel sat opposite him, adjusted her long skirt and leaned back. She folded her slender fingers across her lap. “So... I'm listening.”

Craig cleared his throat, focusing on Jewel, and for a moment talking about the project was the last thing on his mind. He shifted his weight in the chair. “I believe as an artist you can fully appreciate a project of passion.” Her nostrils flared ever so slightly as if bracing for attack. “That's what this project is for me. Everything that I've done and everything that I have accomplished has led me here—now.” He pushed out a breath. “It's the story of my family, the Lawsons.”

Her lashes fluttered, but her features remained unreadable.

“Of course, I've changed the names, to protect the guilty,” he said, not in jest. “The story of a family that came from nothing, with a history of rising up from slavery, starting a business in a shack and building a legacy that led all the way to the seats of power in Washington.” He leaned forward, held her with his gaze.

“More important,” he continued, his voice taking on an urgency, “is that
now
is the time. With all that is going on in the world, with all that is happening to black lives, this is a story not only of history but of hope. It's about resiliency, about who we are as a people and all that we can be.” He took a breath. “From what you told me about your family, we—” he flipped his hand back and forth between them “—have a helluva lot in common. This house, this land and the history of it is the ultimate backdrop for the telling of this story. It won't only be my family story, but your family story as well.”

Jewel pushed up from her seat and walked over to the railing to gaze out at the rolling slopes. “I know about your work. I've read the reviews and the write-ups.” She turned to face him. “They all say good things—that you are brilliant.” She smiled faintly. “And that in an industry that is utterly jaded, you still keep your integrity intact and you never work on a project for the money but for the passion.”

Craig took the comments in stride. He got up and stood beside her. He felt her stiffen. “I've read all about you, too.” Her eyes widened for an instant. “You're one of the most influential artists of your generation. But suddenly you all but vanish from the public eye. Don't you miss it? Do you still paint, sculpt?”

“In answer to all of your questions, no, I don't,” she practically whispered.

He watched her throat work as if she would reveal more, but she didn't. If he knew nothing else about artists of any medium, they weren't fulfilled if they didn't do what they were born to do. But instead of saying what he thought, he said, “If it's about the money, we are more than willing to pay twice what we offered, and I—”

Jewel spun her body toward him so quickly that it forced him to take a step back. Her eyes narrowed in fury.

“You think because I'm not in the limelight that I'm some kind of charity case and that I
need
your money!”

He reached out and gently placed his hand on her arm. “I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I understand that it is an imposition, that strangers would interfere with your regular routine for weeks and you should be duly compensated, not to mention that your home would be the centerpiece of an amazing film. That's all worth something, and for me, having this film made at this location is more valuable than you could imagine.” A slow, endearing smile curved his mouth while his eyes danced across her face.

Jewel, by degrees, seemed to relax her body. She lowered her head for a moment then looked directly at him, and the connection was so intense that he felt as if he'd been hit in the gut.

“Okay,” she finally said. “You can shoot your film here.”

A smile like hallelujah broke out on his face. He totally kicked protocol to the curb, grabbed her around the waist and spun her in a circle. She laughed like a kid at Christmas, and it was pure music.

He finally set her on her feet, and they were but a breath apart. He saw the flecks of cinnamon in the irises of her eyes, felt the warmth of her body, the beat of her heart. He wanted to know what her lips felt like, to taste her...just a little.

“Sorry,” he said.

Jewel gazed at him while the shadow of a smile hovered around her mouth.

“Thank you,” he said, “and I swear we'll make this as painless for you as possible.”

“I'm going to hold you to that, Mr. Lawson.”

“I think maybe you can call me Craig.”

The tip of her tongue brushed across her bottom lip. “Jewel.”

“I'll have some new paperwork drawn up and sent over first thing tomorrow,” Craig said as they walked to the front door.

They stood side by side on the landing.

“Fine. Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” he said, still euphoric over the positive turn of events.

“If this place and your family's legacy are so important to you, why did you stay away for ten years?”

The question seemed to take him off guard. For a moment he didn't respond, but he quickly regained his composure. “How about this... I promise to tell you all about it if you agree to have dinner with me, to thank you.”

Jewel swallowed and took a small step aside. “I don't think so.”

“Lunch?” He covered the step she'd given up. He faced her. “Starbucks on the corner of wherever,” he joked.

Jewel laughed. “Fine. Lunch,” she conceded.

“Tomorrow. One o'clock. I'll come and get you.” He jogged down the three steps. “Enjoy your day,” he said over his shoulder.

Jewel stood on the porch landing until the Suburban was long out of sight. Why had she agreed to have lunch with him? Why had she agreed to have his film crew in her home? Why was her heart racing as if she'd run a marathon, and why did she feel as if the lights had suddenly come on after much too long in the darkness? She turned and walked back inside. Craig Lawson was the answer to all of her questions.

Chapter 3

C
raig was light on his feet as he crossed the threshold to the suite reserved for the crew. Since their arrival his team had transformed the lush two-bedroom suite into a functioning production space with a splash of elegance. His spirits soared even higher when he saw that everyone was already up and at it.

Anthony glanced up from the computer screen when Craig walked in. “Hey, man.” He gave him a questioning look.

Craig gave him a thumbs-up and a satisfied grin. “It's a go.”

Anthony slowly shook his head in amazement. “I want details.”

Craig nodded then focused his attention on the team. “I have some good news. We got the Fontaine mansion for the shoot. So everything is a go. Paul, I need to get with you a bit later to make a few enhancements to the agreement and then get it over to legal for a quick look.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Diane, I want to get some location shots set up and put on the schedule. When are Stacey and Norm getting in?”

“They should be landing as we speak. They took the red-eye from LA. A car is waiting for them at the airport,” Diane said of the unit manager and technical director.

“Good.” Craig checked his watch. “Let's all meet when Norm and Stacey arrive,” he said. His glance spanned to include everyone. He turned to Anthony, clapped him on the shoulder and with a toss of his head indicated that he wanted to talk out of earshot. He led the way out and across the hall to his room.

Anthony shut the door behind them. “Lemme hear it. How did you get her to change her mind? I'm almost afraid to ask.”

Craig tossed him a withering look from over his shoulder. “Yo, what are you trying to say, man?”

“I'm not
trying
to say anything. I'm saying you sometimes maneuver women into that horizontal position that magically gets them to do what you want.”

“One time,” he corrected, holding up his index finger as pseudoproof.

“Twice.”

“All right, all right. Twice. But it was mutual. I never have a woman do anything they don't truly want to do. I'm not that guy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, man. I'm just pulling your chain.” He crossed the carpeted floor to the counter, fixed himself a cup of coffee then took a seat in a club chair by the window. “So, what's the deal?”

Craig sat on the lounge chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his feet at the ankles. He linked his fingers across his hard belly. “I made her an offer she couldn't refuse,” he said in a pretty good imitation of Marlon Brando's Vito Corleone.

“Yeah, what kind of offer?”

“Well, I was honest...or at least as honest as I can be. I told her exactly how important this film is to me and why. We talked.” His gaze drifted away as an image of Jewel filled his line of sight. A grin curved his mouth.

“She must have said something pretty powerful to put that look on your face.”

Craig blinked, gave a quick shake of his head and returned his attention to Anthony. “I don't know what it was, to be honest.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “There's...something about her. Can't put my finger on it.” He looked Anthony right in the eyes. “Getting her to agree to let us use her home for the shoot is a major coup, no doubt, but having lunch with her tomorrow is the icing on the cake.” He grinned.

“You dog,” Anthony teased, wagging a finger at him.

“It's not like that,” Craig said, chuckling. “I swear.”

“Not yet.”

“Look, I asked her to dinner, and she flat-out said no. I bumped it down to lunch with the caveat that if she agreed I would tell her why I haven't been back for ten years.”

Anthony's dark eyes widened in surprise. “Say what?”

“She wanted to know...and that was the only thing I could offer to get her to agree to lunch.”

“The offer she couldn't refuse,” Anthony said.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Let me get this straight. You meet this woman. You want something from her. She tells you no—something you aren't used to hearing, by the way—and you offer to reveal to her something
I
only got out of you after years of friendship and a bottle of bourbon? Is that about right?”

“Maybe if you'd had her body, those eyes and that mouth I would have told you sooner,” he joked.

Anthony burst out laughing, sputtering coffee. He grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth then leveled his gaze at his friend. “Hey, it's cool, whatever you want to do. I'm just saying be clearheaded—that's all. In another three months, we'll be back in London for the next film. Long distance has never been your thing.”

Craig pressed his lips together and slowly nodded his head. “Yeah, I know. It's all good.”

“Now for the practical question, how much more is this going to cost us?”

“Another ten grand.”

“What? Craig, man, we have a budget, remember? You're adding ten K to the budget and we haven't even started shooting yet.”

“I got this. Don't worry.” He stood.

“It's my job to worry. It's what I do. I know you have deep pockets, but don't bust a hole in them.” His cell phone chirped. He pulled it out of his shirt pocket. “It's Diane. Norm and Stacey just arrived,” he said.

“Cool. Give them an hour to get settled and we'll all meet over lunch. Have room service bring up whatever everyone wants.”

Anthony pushed up from his seat and set his coffee cup down on the table. He turned to Craig, slung his hands into his pockets and pushed out a breath. “I know you have a lot riding on this project,” he said in a low voice. “I only want to make sure that you make it to the finish line.”

“I hear you, brother.” He gripped Anthony's upper arm. “I've come too far to screw this up, especially over a woman. No worries. Okay?”

Anthony studied him for a moment. “See you at lunch.” He turned and walked out.

Craig faced the window that offered a panorama of the place he'd once called home. He knew that Anthony was only doing his job. When he put on his other hat as first assistant director it was his responsibility to keep everything on point, including keeping an eye on the budget. But Craig also knew that wasn't Anthony's main concern. His concern rose out of their decades-long friendship. Anthony knew him, knew the demons that he dealt with—the string of relationships to fight the bouts of depression, the outbursts of anger and the weeks of isolation. The chasm between him and his father was at the center of it all, that and his very publicly failed engagement to international model and up-and-coming film star Anastasia Dumont, the daughter of Alexander Dumont, the London financier. Although the disaster of their engagement had ended three years earlier and it happened across the pond, it still stung. His and Anastasia's faces and every detail of their relationship—at least what the tabloids could piece together—became cover copy for every pop magazine here and abroad for months. At least until the next personal scandal took center stage.

He'd almost waited by the phone for a call from his father telling him, “I told you so.” Craig wasn't sure what stung more, the fact that the call never came or that his father didn't even care enough to say, “I told you so.”

Anthony was right. He had to keep his head on straight and not get distracted by a beautiful woman who clearly had major issues of her own. The last thing he needed was to haul around someone else's baggage. He'd tell her just enough to tamp down her curiosity, and that was it. He was as good at masking what rested behind his emotional armor as he was a writer and director—and he had the awards to prove it. Whatever he didn't want Ms. Jewel Fontaine to know she would never know.

* * *

“I'm going to take your father on a stroll around the grounds,” Minerva said as she walked into the sitting room off the veranda.

Jewel placed the newspaper that she was reading down on the table. “I think I'll go with you. I could use some exercise myself.” She pushed up from the chair.

“I saw a car pull off earlier. Was that the film people?”

Jewel tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth before answering. “Yes. It was Mr. Lawson.”

“Oh.” Her voice rose in a note of surprise. “And?” she added when Jewel offered nothing further.

“He came to ask me to reconsider.”

“And?”

“And I agreed.” She held onto her smile.

Minerva clapped her hands together in delighted relief. “Amen! I am so happy that you came to your senses.”

“I'm glad you approve.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I thought about what you said.” Craig Lawson immediately came to mind. “It's for the best.”

Minerva squeezed Jewel's arm. “This will lift a big burden off your shoulders and give you some room to breathe.” She hesitated a moment. “I know I've said it a dozen times, but if you're set against going back to your art, you could have a whole other career in baking. It wouldn't bring in the same level of money as your paintings and such, but...you love it and your customers love the magic you make.”

Jewel drew in a long breath and slowly released it. “One thing at a time, Minny, okay?” A faint smile of indulgence curved her mouth. “Let's go take Dad for his walk. Then I actually do need to get into the kitchen. I have an order for three dozen red velvet cupcakes for Ms. Hatfield's daughter's sweet sixteen party.”

“See, they love you,” Minerva said with a grin.

Jewel slowly shook her head, tucked in her smile and followed Minerva to her father's room.

* * *

He'd been out with more women than he could count or remember. There was rarely a time in his life when a woman was not somewhere in the shadows. He adored women, loved the look of them, the way they made him feel about himself. He'd experienced the gamut of emotions for the women he'd been with, but fear was never one of them. But if he were tortured and had to confess, he would admit that he was scared as all hell about this lunch thing with Jewel Fontaine.

He didn't have a damned thing to prove to her. He wasn't trying to win her over and get her into bed. This was business. So there was no reason for the churning in his gut or the galloping of his heart.

Craig made the last turn on the road toward Jewel's home and realized as he gripped the wheel that his palms were damp. What the hell? He maneuvered the Suburban slowly down the narrow dirt lane and came to a stop at the end of it. He cut the engine. Too many scenarios of what came next raced around in his head. He pushed out a breath, opened the door and got out. No point in delaying the inevitable.

He strode toward the front door and up the three steps to the landing. He rang the bell. Moments later the nurse came to the door.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lawson,” she greeted him with a wide grin. “Ms. Fontaine is expecting you. Please come in.”

All very Southern
, Craig mused. “Thank you.” He stepped inside and was once again taken aback by the sweeping grandeur of the home. Tastefully elegant in every detail.

“You can have a seat in the parlor.” She indicated the room to her right with a tilt of her hand. “I'll let Ms. Fontaine know that you're here. Can I get you anything?” she asked before turning away.

“No, thank you, ma'am. I'm fine.”

Minerva hurried off.

Craig took a slow turn in the well-appointed room. Old-world charm seeped from every corner. The oak beams, padded antique chairs, heavy glass and wood tables and gleaming hardwood floors with strategically placed area carpeting all added to the flavor of what once was and still existed. He could envision the cigar smoke drifting into the air while men of power sat around making decisions and sipping shots of whiskey.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Craig turned toward the sound of Jewel's voice and was hit once again with the impact of seeing her. He swallowed. His lips parted for a moment before a response could form.

“Not a problem,” he finally said. He took a step toward her. Her eyes widened, and her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. What was she thinking? If only he could let her know how hard it was for him to rein in the overwhelming desire to kick the door closed, press her body against the wall and kiss away the shimmering gloss she had on those lush lips. He shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the rise that pulsed and to keep from touching her. That would be a mistake. He tipped his head slightly to the side. “Ready?”

“Yes.” She spun away and led the way out, giving Craig ample time to pull himself together—although looking at her from the rear wasn't much help, either.

They stepped out into the balmy early afternoon. The sky was crystal clear, the sun high and strong with a breeze off the surrounding brooks and streams cooling the air and carrying the scent of the spring blooms that sprouted from the ground and hung from the trees.

“Did you have someplace in mind?” Jewel asked while Craig held the passenger door for her and helped her in.

“Um, not really,” he drawled. He shut the door and rounded the vehicle then slid in behind the wheel. He turned to look at her. “I was hoping you would suggest your favorite place,” he tossed out as a Hail Mary.

Jewel grinned. “To be honest, it's been a minute since I've been out. Can't really say I have a favorite place.”

Craig turned the key in the ignition. “Then we'll find a favorite place together. Sound like a plan?”

Jewel fastened her seat belt. “Sure. Let's go.”

“I'm working off rusty memory,” Craig said as he pulled onto the main road. “From what I remember there are a bunch of cafés and restaurants downtown. Right?”

“Good memory. I can't guarantee they're exactly what you remember, though. There's been a lot of turnover of small businesses the past few years.”