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His fingers laced through hers and he moved towards her. Before she could stop him, he bent to her and kissed her, his mouth settling on hers with a gentleness that made her heart stop beating. The ground seemed to shift beneath her feet as she felt the quick, sweet brush of his tongue against her lips.
She heard herself make a soft cry against his mouth and felt herself sway against him. His hand tightened on hers, the press of his fingers almost painful, and then he stepped back and released her.
‘Take care of yourself, Gabrielle,’ he whispered.
She put her fingers to her mouth, half expecting to feel the heat of his kiss lingering there. Then, before he could say anything more, she snatched open the door to the cab and scrambled inside.
James Forrester bent down, leaned into the driver’s half-opened window, and stuffed some bills into the man’s hand.
‘Take the lady to La Vie en Rose. It’s the flower shop around the corner from Jackson Square.’
It was hours later when Gabrielle realised she had never told James Forrester the name of the shop she owned.
CHAPTER TWO
Gabrielle hung up the telephone, counted to ten slowly, then turned towards the rear of the flower shop. She watched as Alma put the finishing touches to an elaborate centrepiece of long-stemmed roses, ferns, and baby’s breath, and then she cleared her throat.
‘Is that the last of the altar displays for the Delacroix wedding?’
Her assistant looked up. ‘Almost. I’ve just two more to do, and…’ She stared at Gabrielle and shook her head. ‘Don’t tell me. That was the caterer. Mrs Delacroix’s changed her mind again.’
Gabrielle smiled ruefully. ‘I’d love to say you’re wrong, but…’
Alma sighed and pushed a pale strand of hair from her eyes. ‘What is it this time? Are we back to orchids?’
‘No, it’s still roses. White ones, though. Will we have enough?’
‘No. But, if I were you, I wouldn’t order any more for an hour or two.’ Alma made a face as she began stripping the red roses from the centrepiece. ‘That’s about how long it’ll take Mrs Delacroix to change her mind again. Honestly, Gabrielle, you’re goin’ to have to learn to put your foot down with these people. If you don’t…’
Gabrielle sighed. ‘I know,’ she said, as she took a vase of white roses from the refrigerated case. ‘You’re absolutely right. But I’m still trying to expand the business, Alma. Once I’ve done that, I won’t be so easy.’
Her assistant gave her a sideways glance. ‘If you were half as tough with Mrs Delacroix as you woe with that nice man…’
Gabrielle looked up sharply. ‘James Forrester? Has he called again?’
Alma shook her head. ‘No. But then, why would he? Three calls in two days, and you haven’t returned one of them.’
‘I’ve been busy.’
The other woman sighed. ‘I wouldn’t be too busy to talk to a man who sounded like that. Is he as handsome as he sounds?’
Gabrielle felt her assistant’s inquisitive eyes on her. ‘I really didn’t notice,’ she said sharply. ‘The next time he calls, tell him I’m away.’
‘He won’t believe me, Gaby. As it is, each time I tell
“Why are you so determined to avoid me?” 1
SANDRA MARTON 1
‘This is not China. Saving someone’s life doesn’t mean you’re responsible for that person forever.’
Gabrielle’s tone had been sharper than she’d intended, but Alma only smiled.
‘Is that what they believe? Seems a nice custom to me.’
Gabrielle blew out her breath. ‘Look,’ she said patiently, ‘I met this man in an alley in the Quarter. It’s not as if we were introduced at a party or something.’
Alma snipped off a length of fern. ‘He saved your life. I should think that makes up for the lack of a proper introduction.’ She looked up. ‘Besides, you couldn’t have met at a party. You don’t go to parties.’
‘Alma…’
‘Or to dinners or charity function or…’
Gabrielle sighed as she opened the refrigerated case and took out another vase of roses. ‘I’ve been busy. You
know that. I’m new here, and ’
‘All the more reason to get out and meet people,’ her assistant said firmly. ‘I have never seen a woman more determined to avoid a social life than you.’
‘That’s nonsense. I ’
‘It’s as if you have a fence around you and nobody can get past it. You get that funny look on your face each time someone tries.’
Gabrielle looked up. ‘What look?’ she demanded.
‘That look,’ Alma said triumphantly. ‘The same one you’re wearin’ now, the one that says, “Stop—don’t go any further, I don’t want to know you and I’m not about to let you know me”.’
A flush rose to Gabrielle’s cheeks and she turned away, busying herself with the white roses.
‘That’s crazy. Just because I’m not a social butterfly…’ ‘Whatever happened to you back in New York, to make you so distrustful of people?’
Gabrielle stared at the other woman. What would happen if she told her? What if she said, ‘I’m not who you think I am, Alma. I’m Gabrielle Chiari, not Gabrielle Shelton, and I’ve been used by everyone in the past six months, the authorities and the Press and…’
‘ You’ve no reason to dislike Mr Forrester. He saved your life, Gaby.’
He had, yes. But he’d also known the name of her flower shop. Alma would tell her there was a perfectly rational explanation for it, and there probably was. But still …
‘Suppose he hadn’t been in that alley? Have you thought of that?’
Of course she had. And then she’d wondered why he’d been in the alley in the first place. Tourists didn’t frequent such places, not so early in the morning.
Angry tears rose in her eyes. What had Townsend and his people done to her? The world, or her perception of it, had become ugly and twisted. Suddenly, the need to confide in someone was almost overwhelming. Her eyes met Alma’s, and it was as if the older woman could read her thoughts. Her pretty face creased in compassion.
/> ‘Gaby,’ she said softly, ‘if you need a friend to talk to, I’m here.’
A friend. Had she ever had one? There’d been acquaintances, yes, girls she’d gone to private school with, and then others she’d worked with. But always there had been a barrier between them.
‘Her dad works for Tony Vitale,’ she’d once heard a classmate whisper to another. ‘Can you believe it? And she seems so nice…’
The youthful voice had been filled with awe, stumbling to silence when Gabrielle had stepped into view. That weekend, at home with her father in the little house they’d shared behind Vitale’s bigger one, she’d hesitantly repeated what she’d heard, then asked what it meant. Her father’s face had darkened and he’d put his arm around her.
‘Your Uncle Tony is a powerful man, Gabriella,’ he’d said in his careful, halting English. ‘Men such as he are often misunderstood.’
‘But—but is he a bad man, Papa? That girl
sounded ’
Her father had shaken his head. ‘In the old country, no one would ask such a question. Of course he isn’t; would his union make him its leader if he were bad?’ Her father’s expression had softened and he’d hugged her to him. ‘Your little friend is only repeating the lies the newspapers print.’
‘Gaby?’ She blinked as Alma’s soft voice brought her back to the little flower shop. ‘What is it? You can tell me.’
Can you believe it? And she seems so nice… Gabrielle drew a shaky breath. ‘What I can tell you,’ she said with a quick smile, ‘is that you’re a southerner and I’m a northerner. And if northerners are just naturally suspicious, New Yorkers are positively paranoid.’
An answering smile curved across the other woman’s mouth, but her eyes were watchful. ‘So I’ve noticed,’
she said. ‘But Mr Forrester ’
Gabrielle’s smile tilted a little. ‘Look, I just don’t want to get involved with anybody now. You can understand that, can’t you?’
