“Madelaine, look at me.”
Slowly she raised her gaze to his chin, but stopped there, too much of a coward to look him in the eye.He tilted her chin up until she had no choice but to look at him.His eyes were a stormy gray, like the clouds she’d seen race over Lake Michigan.
“Do you feel it?”he asked softly.“Do you feel what is between us?”
She nodded, incapable of speech.She’d thought she’d been the only one experiencing this weird connection.His grimace told her it wasn’t one-sided but it was definitely unwanted.
“What am I to do with you?”he whispered mostly to himself.Lainie could have sworn he shook himself.“Tell Etienne if he has any questions, to give me a call.”
It took her a moment to calm the butterflies in her stomach.But she came back to earth with a solid thump that left her disoriented and bruised.What did he mean when he asked what he was going to do with her?
“I will.Thank you.”She turned to leave.Christien fell into step beside her.They made their way across the silent dance floor.This time he didn’t hold her hand.In a way, she was grateful.She didn’t think her mind could take much more of the turmoil his presence had on her psyche and her emotions.It was this place.It did weird things to them.
At the front door, she hesitated.“I’m sorry I interrupted your business call.”
He looked at her with those enigmatic eyes that appeared silver one minute, a churning gray the next.
“Take this.”With the hands of a magician, he whipped out a business card seemingly from nowhere and held it out to her.“My personal number is written on the back.If you need anything, please call me.”
“Oh.Well.”Flustered, she stared at the card.Her common sense screamed at her to get out and never come back.“That’s very kind of you, but I don’t think—”
“Keep it.”He put the card in her hand and curled her fingers around it, wrinkling the heavy paper and causing the corners to cut into her palm.“Please.Call if you need anything.Anything,Madelaine.Even if it is the smallest thing, I am here for you.”
He caressed her cheek, his finger idly wandering down to her jaw to touch the key hanging at the hollow of her throat.Her vision blurred and she saw another hand, the same hand, in another time.He stepped back, broke the connection, and her vision sharpened.With a half bow, he turned and reached for the door handle.
“Wait…”
Christien tensed, bracing himself to turn around.The memories of Madelaine he’d kept tucked away bombarded him all night, let loose by this woman’s visit.He hadn’t even bothered trying to sleep, knowing it was pointless.In the hours before dawn and after the club closed, he’d relived every minute with her.Up until and including the defining moment of the knowledge of her death.He was tired, his nerves stretched thin.She was so much like his Madelaine it hurt to look at her.
He turned and his heart constricted.The sun bounced off her deep brown hair, picking out the reddish strands.She was looking up at him and something passed across her face.A hint of the confusion she was feeling inside.Mon Dieu,he needed to get out of here to tend to the wounds opening up inside him in the only way he knew how.Only the haze of alcohol would dim his memories and make them less poignant.
“Yes?”
“I…” She still clutched the envelope with the blasted papers in them.Papers she would take to Lucheux, his enemy.
He had the sudden urge to grab on to her and never let go.To protect her with all the resources he lacked centuries ago.Instead he tilted his head, his gaze roving over her body, drinking in the sight of her while his heart broke all over again.
She must have sensed something inside him, or saw the pain he was valiantly trying to control because she took a step back.“Never mind,” she whispered.
Once again he watched her walk away, studied the swing of her slim hips in the tight skirt.Again he had the almost overwhelming urge to run after her, but he kept his feet planted and let her leave.
In the darkness of the night and early morning hours he’d done his homework.He knew where she lived—in an apartment building owned by Lucheux.He knew where she worked—for Lucheux.He knew all about her father, the farm the Alexanders owned for generations and she grew up on.The battle she fought alongside her father to keep the government from taking over the farm.He knew to the penny how much she paid in nursing-home costs and the extent of her student loans.
He knew Lucheux held a powerful hold over her, offering her enough money to work for him that would put a considerable dent in those loans and bills and keep her father in the expensive home she’d chosen for him.
At the corner her steps faltered and she hesitated.Christien held his breath, waiting for her to turn around but she didn’t.She squared those shoulders and marched out of sight.
And he let her go.
But he wasn’t worried.He’d put a man on her to watch her and report back to him.
Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.It was a motto he lived by and believed in.
Except he was finding it difficult to think of Lainie Alexander as his enemy.Her eyes were too expressive and she was a terrible liar.There had been moments when he glimpsed her fear and confusion.There had been a few times he swore she remembered him, but she’d quickly squashed those memories and the confusion had doubled.
But he would not let himself be swayed by the copper-colored eyes or the thick hair.He would not forget he was here for a larger purpose.He had to remember she worked for Lucheux, reported to Lucheux.Was she a plant?Most definitely.Of that he had no doubt.Whether she knew it was another story.
Yes, he had to be on his guard despite the fact his heart told him otherwise.
