No More Lonely Nights (66 page)

Dominique tried for a chuckle but, from the guilty look on Michelle’s face, she wasn’t sure she succeeded. Wanting to ease her friend’s qualms, Dominique leaned forward and said teasingly, “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Michelle exhaled a puff of smoke and said, “Were you aware that we will return to Paris on the first of May?”

“No!” Dominique cried. “Why?” She hated to lose her new friend and, equally important, a good client.

“It’s routine,” Michelle explained. “Ambassadorships are not indefinite. We’ve been in Washington for four years, and the president has asked my husband to return home now.”

“Will he be assigned somewhere else?”

Michelle smiled. “Washington is the highest post any diplomat can attain.” She paused and her smile turned mischievous. “However, once a diplomat has attained that position, he may be ‘promoted,’ if you will, to the president’s cabinet.” Michelle looked down and said with quiet modesty, “My husband has been named minister of trade.”

Dominique was excited for her friend. “You must be so proud of him!”

Michelle tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you. And, as much as we love Washington, we are looking forward to going home. Our family is there. And our country place.”

Dominique knew that by “country place,” Michelle referred to the count’s ancestral estate in the Loire Valley—a seventeenth-century chateau with five hundred acres of vineyards. She shook her head. “It sounds heavenly, though I’m terribly sorry to see you go.”

Michelle studied Dominique in silence. Finally she said, “I shall miss you as well.” She paused. “Unless…”

Dominique smiled. Michelle was undoubtedly going to invite her to spend some time with them in the summer. She probably couldn’t afford it, but the gesture was nice, just the same.

Michelle put her index finger to her chin in a thoughtful pose. “I would like you to come with us.”

Dominique stared, uncomprehending.

Michelle smiled and continued. “My husband will find it necessary to host many foreign delegations, especially from the United States and the Arab nations. He, of course, will have an aide to arrange formal meetings. But we will also be called upon to entertain—to host many events, both in Paris and at the country place. And I will have to arrange excursions for the families.” She paused. “You have lived in Egypt and America, but you’re a French native. And you are a most capable event planner, much more so than the social secretary who serves the embassy here.” She laughed. “I am desperate to have you join my staff. You would be perfect!” She gave Dominique an appealing look. “Please say yes.”

Dominique was aghast. “Michelle, you can’t be serious! I just moved to Washington. I have my family here, my business.”

“Your mother and Gabrielle will be better off in France,” Michelle replied breezily. “After all, you say your mother’s French is better than her English and your daughter is already fluent. And”—Michelle held up her index finger—“you can be certain that Gabrielle’s education in France will be superior to what she receives here.” She made a noise of derision. “In America, the children watch too much television and the schools are too permissive. There is no intellectual life.

“Aside from that, think of what an adventure it would be to move to Paris. You’ve said many times that you love the city,” Michelle reminded her. She lowered her voice. “Your salary would be most generous. And, don’t forget, in France, vacations are mandated by law. A month in summer, a week at Christmas. You’d have much more leisure to spend with your family. All your health care would be taken care of and, ultimately, you could retire with a government pension.”

“You mean resettle there? Never return to America?” It was hard to take the idea seriously, it was so outside the context of her current life.

Michelle shrugged. “If you wished to return to America, there would be many opportunities during holidays. Ultimately, you could do so permanently, if you wished.” Michelle gave Dominique a sly smile. “But you would likely remarry. In this position, you would meet many eligible men. And remember, the French do not share America’s obsession with youth,” she said disdainfully. “A woman is not interesting until she is at least thirty-five.”

Michelle made it all sound so tempting, so easy, but it wasn’t. “Even if the schools are better in France, I can’t move Gabrielle again. It’s disruptive. In the fall, she’ll be going into ninth grade—her last year of junior high.” She shook her head. “I can’t do that to her.”

“But in France, the structure is different. She would be changing schools in any event and all the students would be new.” Michelle paused, looking thoughtful. “Why don’t you ask her how she feels? Maybe the prospect of moving to Paris would be exciting for her.”

Dominique looked dubious. “But Michelle, that’s not the only objection.” How could she make this woman of privilege understand? She picked up her cup of espresso and drained it, bracing herself. “I’m honored that you want me, but I’ve made a life for myself in Washington. I’ve started a business.” She gave a self-mocking smile. “I’m not saying that either one is a smashing success. But… it takes time to make things work.”

Michelle’s look was sympathetic. “I know how hard it’s been. But what do you prove by persevering in the face of such difficulty? What’s holding you here?” She gave her a look pregnant with meaning.

Dominique flushed, but said nothing. The more she denied that Mark had anything to do with it, the less Michelle would believe her.

The countess went on. “I could understand if you had no other alternative, but…” She turned up her hands in an expression of bafflement.

Dominique smiled at her friend’s pragmatism. Abstract ideals weren’t important to Michelle, only the bottom line. “It’s true my business hasn’t made me rich, and I’ve had disappointments. But it’s very important that I stick to the course I’ve chosen.” Without realizing it, Dominique’s hands had formed fists of determination. “It would take too long to tell you all the things in my past that have brought me to this point.” She paused, and her gaze intensified. “But I
have
to prove I can make a life for myself. A life
and a
living.”

Michelle made a sound of impatience. “My dear, your idea of independence sounds like enslavement to me.” She lifted one delicate shoulder. “After all, what is independence? If you have money and your health, you do as you wish.” She fixed Dominique with a severe look. “If you take the job in Paris, you’ll have enough money for independence.”

Michelle’s arguments sounded so logical. Dominique could easily picture herself in the job Michelle described. And moving to Paris sounded glamorous. Why refuse such a wonderful opportunity?

Because it meant surrender, and the very thought panicked Dominique. But how could she explain that to sensible, practical Michelle? She gave her friend a sidelong glance, feeling cornered. Aside from the personal relationship, Michelle was one of her most important business contacts. To simply refuse her outright would seem rude and ungrateful.

Michelle rescued her from having to devise a diplomatic response. The woman signaled for the check and said offhandedly, “Think about it. Talk it over with your family. In the end, I’m sure you’ll be persuaded.”

THE YOUNG woman’s long, dusky hair spilled over Mark’s chest as she slid on top of him. She was beautiful, eager to please.

Mark closed his eyes as he slid into her. She began to move, ever so slowly. Almost at once, Mark could feel the pressure build. It had been two months since he’d been with a woman. Been with Dominique. He tried to push the thought from his mind. Alexa Martinelli deserved better than that. She was an intelligent, accomplished girl. Woman, he corrected himself. A Justice Department attorney, she had pursued Mark with single-minded determination from the first moment they’d met at Buffy Coleman’s dinner party. She had been perfectly straightforward about her desire to sleep with Mark. At first he was put off—almost shocked by her forwardness—then amused and, finally, intrigued. She offered herself so freely, promised so much.

Mark slid his hands over her silky buttocks. They were hard and taut as a young boy’s. But Mark wasn’t interested in young boys. He couldn’t help comparing her streamlined muscles to Dominique’s voluptuous curves. He opened his eyes and gazed at Alexa’s perfect bone structure. She had it all, Alexa did. Everything to impress and ensnare a man. What’s more, Mark knew she was falling in love with him. With him or with her image of the senator from Louisiana? Mark wasn’t certain, but her devotion was obvious. The little gifts, the notes, and, most of all, the look in her eye. It was tantamount to worship. She was so young.

Mark kissed her, his touch full of affection—and desire. But what about love? Could he love her? Mark glided his hands up the length of her elegant thighs.

Alexa ground her hips into him and Mark caught his breath, trembling on the edge of release. She was every bit as delectable as she’d promised. Every bit as accomplished. He closed his eyes again. Tight. Brought his hips up. Hard. Then, with sudden ferocity, he flipped her on her back and pounded into her until he reached a shattering climax.

“Paris!” Danielle sighed wistfully into the telephone. “I envy you.”

Dominique laughed. “There’s nothing to envy—you’ve achieved your dream. I’m still struggling.”

“So stop struggling. Michelle de la Croix is offering you a way out.” Dominique sighed and pulled her velvet robe—a Christmas present from Solange—tighter. The kitchen was Saturday morning quiet, her mother and daughter upstairs asleep. She kept her voice low so as not to wake them. The last thing Dominique wanted was for Solange to get on the extension and add her argument to Danielle’s. Solange hadn’t stopped lecturing, sermonizing, cajoling since Dominique had told her of Michelle’s proposal two weeks before. To hear Solange, Paris was the promised land, Michelle’s job the golden fleece.

Gabrielle, on the other hand, was of two minds about the move. “I like my friends here,” she said, “and it’s not like I
want
to move or anything,… but
Paris!”
Dominique had secretly hoped that Gabrielle would be vehement in her opposition to the move. That would have put the issue to rest. Instead, the girl’s reaction only added to Dominique’s indecision.

The problem, Dominique thought sourly, was that Gabrielle had been raised on the idea that Paris was the ultimate paradise. Glamour, lights, beauty—that was the Paris Solange had spoon-fed her granddaughter. And it had been confirmed when Gabrielle had accompanied her father to France, for Clay and Marie had chosen the best hotels, eaten in the best restaurants. Gabrielle had been dazzled by the euphoria that permeated the trip.

As if reading her thoughts, Danielle said, “The fact that Gabrielle is willing to move should tell you something. Even she probably understands that this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

“But so is owning my own business,” Dominique countered.

“Look, Dominique, let’s be frank, if it were making you rich, that would be one thing, but—”

Annoyed, Dominique broke in. “I just got a new account this week—a department store opening. The boutique I did in December was so pleased that they recommended me.” She paused. “I feel like my business is starting to take off.” It was hard to keep the enthusiasm from her voice. She knew Danielle probably thought she was deluding herself, but she wasn’t. The January doldrums were over. It was the first week of February and the phone was starting to ring again.

“Even so,” Danielle argued, “Michelle is offering you the kind of security you’ll never have working for yourself.”

“Security has always been more important to you than independence,” Dominique shot back, “but not to me.” She regretted the harsh words immediately. She was striking out at Danielle who, after all, only wanted what was best for her. “I’m sorry,” Dominique said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not?” Danielle asked casually. “It’s true enough. I’ve always been the saver. You’ve always been the spender. I’ve always been cautious and you’ve always been impulsive. That’s why I don’t understand why you won’t take this opportunity.” She spoke in a frustrated tone. “It’s such an adventure! It seems tailor-made for you.”

There was something in that, Dominique thought. And she could easily picture herself in the role Michelle had described. “Just walk away from my business?”

Danielle sighed. “I don’t know. It depends on your reasons for starting it. I guess that’s what you have to think about. But just do me a favor. Promise me that you’ll seriously consider Paris.”

“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have told all of you about it.”

Dominique studied the monthly bank statement and shook her head. It was a good thing the check from Harrison-Fletcher department store was due any day now. The deposit on the contract for the spring opening would carry her through the rest of February and March. She wondered if the mail had come yet. She would call the receptionist downstairs and see. As she reached for the phone, it rang. Dominique picked it up and a familiar voice, one she couldn’t possibly mistake, said, “Dominique.” No question mark at the end.

Dominique blanched. “Clay,” she said flatly. His calls never brought good news.

“You don’t sound pleased,” he joshed, his voice oozing with good fellowship.

Dominique wanted to retort, Why should I be? But there was no point in insulting him. When Clay set out to charm, he detested being rebuffed. Dominique tried for a casual tone. “I’m just tired. I’ve been working long hours.” She couldn’t resist the opportunity to throw a dart of guilt his way.

“Are things going well?”

“Reasonably.” Dominique’s tone was clipped. She didn’t want him to get the idea that she no longer needed the check he sent each month.

Clay’s voice deepened, transmitting affection. “How’s Solange?”

His air of intimate fondness at first annoyed Dominique. Then she remembered that he had always truly liked Solange. She relented a little. “Very well, thank you. I was worried that she’d miss New Orleans, but she’s made new friends here.”