The Billionaire’s Valiant Rescue (7 page)

I had to confess I’d never figured Jack the working type. He had to laugh at that.

“What did you think I did all day?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Lounge around in the hot tub with half a dozen supermodels? Entertain the jet set on one of your million dollar yachts? Flit from country to country and mansion to mansion like the rest of the billionaire bunch?”

This seemed to amuse him even more. “You mean like the ducks? Traveling South for the winter?”

“Something like that. Though I don’t think ducks like to take in the ski season in Biarritz or spend the summer in Saint-Tropez.”

We’d reached the exit and he graciously held the door for me. Another limo awaited us, its chauffeur a lookalike of the one we’d left behind in Brussels. He opened the rear door and Rufus was the first to hop inside the luxurious ride.

“Do you have a Belgian twin?” I asked the guy uncertainly.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to,
Mademoiselle
,” he said with a puzzled expression in his dark eyes.

“You remind her of someone,” explained Jack.

A smile broke through the clouds, and I saw that even his perfect row of white teeth closely resembled his alter ego’s. “Thank you,
Mademoiselle
. You’re not the first to make the connection. George Clooney and I do have certain characteristics in common.”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. George Clooney? If ever a chauffeur resembled the Hollywood hunk less, it was this tall, thin man. With his meticulously shaved bullethead, he looked more like Mark Strong than any other actor I knew.

Then it struck me, and I tapped Jack excitedly on the shoulder. “Hey! I just remembered who George Clooney and Mark Strong are!”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid that’s not all that uncommon, honey. People who suffer from memory loss often remember a lot of things that have absolutely nothing to do with their personal lives. Now, unless either Mr Clooney or Mr Strong are great personal friends of yours, I’m afraid there’s not much reason for optimism.”

I slapped him on the arm for dashing my hopes. Then we were ushered into the car by Mark Strong’s twin, and I gasped at the opulence of our new surroundings. Unlike its Belgian counterpart, this limo sported not only a mini-bar but also a wide-screen TV and was so spacious I half expected it to hold a full-featured bathroom complete with hot tub and jet-stream shower.

I sat back against the soft cream-colored cushions. “You rich really know how to live, don’t you?”

Jack chuckled at this. “I’ll have you know that this is the first time I’ve ridden the limo in months. Usually I just take the subway into town.

“The subway? Like ordinary folk? But why?”

He shrugged. “I guess I don’t like the ostentatiousness. Or the loneliness. I like riding the subway so I can study the faces of my fellow passengers.”

“You’re a weird billionaire, Jack Carter,” I said dubiously.

He spread his arms. “I guess I am.”

I stared out the window as we pulled into Paris traffic, secretly hoping the scenery would ring a bell or stir some memory. Nothing. I could well have been on the other side of the world watching the ritual dance of the Baniwa.

Beside me, I felt Jack stir. Though the limo was big enough to hold a meeting of the entire board of directors of Jack’s company, he’d eased closer to me.

“What are you thinking?” he said softly as his shoulder rubbed against mine.

“The Baniwa tribe in Brazil. Another useless memory.”

“Unless you’re an anthropologist?”

“Something tells me I’m not.”

I let my head rest back against Jack’s chest as I eased lower in my seat. The warmth and comfort of being this close to him did much to dispel the whirlwind of emotions raging through me since our arrival in Paris.

What was I going to find here? What if I didn’t like what I discovered about myself? What if the real me was a truly horrible person? Worse, what if Jack didn’t like Valerie or Virginie or Veronique?

The fact that there was nobody out there looking for me spelled the worst. What kind of woman disappears without a trace? Without her family organizing a search party? Only a person who is universally loathed, that’s who.

I stared at my reflection in the tinted window of the limo. Was I some kind of horrible person that everybody hated?

I closed my eyes and nestled closer to Jack. At least he seemed to like me. Perhaps that was all that I needed.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all,” I whispered.

“Why? Don’t you want to know who you are?”

I shook my head. “I’m starting to think... not. What if I’m some kind of ogre?”

He tenderly kissed the top of my head. “You’re not an ogre, Mel. You’re a truly wonderful person. Trust me on that.”

The softly spoken words brought tears to my eyes and tugged at my heartstrings. Could this be... love?

I swiped at my eyes. Angry at my own ridiculousness. Of course this wasn’t love. Jack was just being nice to me.

“Thanks, Jack,” I mumbled. “You’re very sweet.”

He tilted my chin and frowned at my tear-filled eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head and averted my gaze. “Nothing. Just... confused, I guess.”

He placed a hand on my cheek and lowered his face, then brushed his lips against mine, and murmured, “Soon you’ll be home, safe and sound.”

In spite of my misgivings, I welcomed his lips, and wrapped my arms around him as he probed deeper. I felt so weak, so vulnerable, and Jack’s hot touch was everything I needed in that moment.

I opened my lips to bid him entry, and he darted his tongue inside, playing hide and seek with mine for a moment, then, like a torrential wave, our embrace grew more heated as he crushed my lips with his, and took full possession of my mouth, taking me voraciously.

Tears still rolled from my eyes as I gave myself to him, willing him to take me, to take all of me, before this unbidden affair was over.

The more time Jack spent with Melanie, the more he felt himself falling for her. Never before had he been under the spell of a woman like this. She held a magic hold over him, and the strange thing was, he liked it.

He wanted more—he wanted everything. Was this love? Of course not. This was simply lust, the carnal hunger for a woman he knew he shouldn’t have.

For one thing, she didn’t even know who she was. For all they knew, she could well be married with three kids, her family eagerly awaiting her return while she made out with him in the backseat of his father’s limo.

In spite of the overpowering urge to fill her flesh with his, he pulled back before he crossed the line. It took every ounce of self-restraint, but finally he managed to tear himself away from her.

Though it was obvious she wanted him just as badly herself, it was wrong. Until they knew her identity, they simply couldn’t go there.

In spite of his longings, he had to keep himself in check until she was home with her family once again.

“Jack... Don’t stop,” she moaned as he pulled away. “I—I want you.”

I want you too, Mel, he thought. God, how he wanted her. But it just wasn’t right. He squared his jaw and sat back against the limo seat. “We can’t,” he croaked.

She trailed a finger along his cheek. “Why? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head to fight the urge to take her into his arms again. “We don’t know anything about you, Mel. You could be married. Your husband—”

She slung a hand to her face. “Oh, God. You’re right.”

She held up a slender hand and checked her fingers.

“No ring,” she murmured.

“That doesn’t mean...”

“Of course. They could have taken it off.” She cast him a pleading look. “But I don’t... feel married. Don’t you think I would know if I had a husband?”

“I’m not sure, honey.” He felt miserable all of a sudden. Here he’d finally met a woman he deeply cared about, and she was off-limits.

She swallowed, then shook her head. “I’m sure if there was someone in my life, I wouldn’t be feeling this way about you, Jack. A woman’s heart always knows.”

Hope surged in his bosom. She felt for him? But then he dismissed the thought. She was merely clinging to him like a drowning victim to a life raft. He was all she knew now, all her hopes pinned on him. He’d known it to happen before. The true purport of her feelings wouldn’t show before she regained the full command of her memories. The moment her original personality reasserted itself, she’d see him as the person he truly was. Would she still feel this way about him then? He doubted it. And as long as she was in this state of extreme vulnerability, it would be criminal to take advantage of her.

He rubbed his eyes. “I can’t, honey. It’s just not right. You can see that, can’t you?”

She fell back against the seat, and he could see the hope die in her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I guess I can.”

He intertwined his fingers with hers. This was as far as he was willing to go. Even though his body ached for her touch, he resisted the urge with all the power of his being.

The limo eased to a stop, and the door swung open. “We’re here, sir,” intoned the driver, a hint of amusement behind his eyes. He’d probably followed the whole scene, Jack thought. Drivers always did.

He exited the vehicle, and helped Melanie out.

Staring up at the brownstone he called his home, he was gratified to see her face light up with girlish delight. “This is all yours?”

“Yep. Home sweet home.”

“But I thought you said you had a little pad in Paris?”

He gestured at the ornate oak door with the brass knocker. “This is it. My little pad.”

“Will you be needing me any further, sir?”

He quickly pressed a hundred euro bill in the man’s palm and said, “No, thank you, Rod. I can take it from here.”

“Thank you, sir. Have a pleasant day.”

Melanie turned to the driver. “Thank you, Rodney. Say hello to your brother, will you?”

The sliver of a smile tugged at the man’s lips, and he gave her a brief nod. “I will,
Mademoiselle
.”

They stepped inside, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Finally home. He hadn’t told Melanie but it was very rare that he brought a woman here.

His housekeeper Magali, who must have heard the door unlock, came walking down the stairs. A middle-aged woman with sleek black hair and a perpetual frown etched between her brows, she nevertheless spirited a smile on her lips at the sight of Jack and Melanie standing in the center of the hallway, Rufus in their midst.

“Monsieur Carter, such a surprise to see you. I thought you weren’t coming until the weekend?”

“Change of plans, Magali.” He gestured at Melanie. “This is Melanie Harper. She’ll be staying with us for a little while.”

“
Bonjour, Mademoiselle
.”

“
Bonjour
, Magali.”

“Miss Harper has been through a great ordeal and will need to recover. Did you get my message about the room?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Everything is ready. Shall I show you to your room, Miss Harper?”

“Just call me Mel. I’m not used to being called Miss Harper.” She directed a glance at Jack. “At least I don’t think so.”

Jack had decided not to tell his staff more than they needed to know. Not that he didn’t trust their discretion, but he was reluctant to share information about Melanie with anyone. As long as they didn’t know more about who she was and where she came from it was better to play their cards close to their chests. Especially with Linda Soakes and that goon of hers still on the loose.

He watched as Melanie mounted the stairs after Magali, her lithe form moving light as a feather. A rush of heat passed through him again at the thought of her naked, in his bed, while he pounded the living daylights out of her, taking her over and over again.

At once, his cock stood at attention, and he emitted a short groan of desperation. Soon Magali would leave, and he and Melanie would be all alone in this big house. The mere thought of her being here, ready to throw herself at his mercy, quickened his heart rate.

He gritted his teeth and willed the image of Melanie naked in his bed to go away.

Not yet, Jack.

Or, more precisely, not ever.

Jeannine Müller and her reluctant partner in crime Rainer Jarnoff sat in a beat-up maroon Renault out in front of Jack Carter’s house near the
Quay d’Orsay
. Jeannine still lamented having had to leave her trusty Peugeot in Brussels. And as if that wasn’t enough to sour her mood, there was the exorbitant expense of having to book two tickets to Paris so they could keep track of the Lorgnasse girl.

Good thing Seth had his contacts and had sent them Jack’s address just in time for them to see his limo arrive and the little wench to exit the car on the fat cat’s arm.

If only that driver hadn’t looked so formidable, or the Carter guy for that matter, Rainer would have simply walked over there, picked her up and carted her to the car.

Now all they could do was wait until the twosome emerged again, and hopefully the odds would be more in their favor then.

“I think we should simply barge in there, snatch her and be done with it,” argued Jeannine.

“Like we did this morning you mean? Yeah, that went really well.”

Jeannine snapped her head around. Sarcasm was not something she responded too well to. “If you had kept a leash on the bitch, we wouldn’t be in this mess now.” She shook her head. “I should never have involved a weakling like you. Never ask a boy to do a man’s job is what my father used to say.”

“And see where that lead him,” murmured Rainer.

“My dad wasn’t to blame for that botched bank robbery. If everyone had done their part, he would still be with us today.”

Rainer rested his head on his hand. If he’d heard the story of the fabled Müller bank robbery gone wrong once, he’d heard it a hundred times. And still he couldn’t shake the feeling Jeannine’s dad had been as crazy as his offspring. Why, oh why had Seth ever married into that nutso family he’d never understand. With all the woman in the world, his cousin had to marry this specimen.

“Tonight, when they’re both asleep, you and I sneak into that house, knock out the guy and snatch her.”