A Yuletide Seduction

She pulled sharply away from him. “You can’t have me, Gabe,” she told him dully. “Because I don’t want you. I realize it must be difficult for the eligible Gabriel Vaughan to accept that a woman may not want him—”

“Cut the insults, Jane,” he put in scathingly. “I heard what you said the first time around! What is it about you, Jane?” he added. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment I set eyes on you!”

CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She started writing in 1978, and has now written over 100 books for Harlequin Presents®.

Carole has four sons—Matthew, Joshua, Timothy and Peter—who keep her on her toes. She is very happily married to Peter, Sr. They live on the Isle of Man.

A Yuletide Seduction

Carole Mortimer

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

GOLD.

Bright, shiny, tarnished gold.

She didn’t want to touch it any more than she needed to, didn’t want it touching her either, the metal seeming to burn her flesh where it nestled on her left hand.

She pulled the gold from her finger. It wasn’t difficult to do. She was so much slimmer than when the ring had first been placed on her finger. In fact, the ring had become so loose that it had spun loosely against her skin, only her knuckles stopping it from falling off by itself.

How she wished it had fallen off, fallen to the ground, never to be seen again. She should have pulled it off, wrenched it from her finger, weeks ago, months ago, but she had been consumed with other things. This tiny scrap of gold lying in the palm of her hand hadn’t seemed important then.

But it was important now. It was the only physical reminder she had that she had ever—ever—

Her fingers closed around the small ring of metal, so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh, breaking through the skin. But she was immune to the pain. She even welcomed it. Because that slight stinging sensation in her hand, the show of blood, told her that she, at least, was still real. Everything around her seemed to have crumbled and fallen apart, until there was nothing left. She was the only reality, it seemed.

And this ring.

She unclenched her fingers, staring down at the ring, fighting back the memories just the sight of it evoked. Lies. All lies! And now he was dead, as dead as their marriage had been.

Oh, God, no! She wouldn’t cry. Never that. Not again. Not ever again!

She quickly blinked back those tears before they could fall. Remember. She had to remember, to keep on remembering, before she would be allowed to forget! If she ever did…

But first she had to get rid of this ring. She never wanted it near her again, never wanted to set eyes on it again, or for anyone else to do so either.

Her fingers curled around it again, but lightly this time, and she lifted up her arm, swung it back as far as it would go, before launching it forward again. And as she did so she threw the ring as far as it would go, as far away from her as she could make it fly, watching as it spun through the air in what seemed like slow motion, making hardly a ripple in the water as it was swallowed up by the swiftly running river in front of her, falling down, to be sucked in by the mud and slime at the bottom of the river.

It took her several breath-holding seconds to realise it had gone. Finally. Irrevocably. And with its falling came release, freedom, a freedom she hadn’t known for such a long, long time.

But freedom to do what…?

CHAPTER TWO

‘TAKE the cups through to—’ Jane abruptly broke off her calm instruction as one of those cups landed with a crash on the kitchen floor, its delicate china breaking into a dozen pieces. The three women in the room stared down at it, with the one who had dropped it looking absolutely horrified at what she had done.

‘Oh, Jane, I’m so sorry.’ Paula groaned her dismay. ‘I don’t know what happened. I’ll pay for it, of course. I—’

‘Don’t be silly, Paula,’ Jane dismissed, still calmly.

Once upon a time—and not so long ago—an accident like this would have sent Jane into a panic, the money she would have to pay for the replacement cup cutting deeply into the profit she would make from catering a private dinner party. But those days were gone now, thank goodness. Now she could afford the odd loss without considering it a disaster. Besides, if this evening was the success Felicity Warner hoped it would be, then Jane doubted the other woman would be too concerned that one of the coffee cups in her twelve-place-setting dinner service had met with an accident.

‘Take the cups through.’ Jane replaced the broken cup, putting it carefully beside the other seven already on the tray. ‘Rosemary will bring the coffee. I’ll clear away the broken cup.’ She gave Paula’s arm a reassuring squeeze before the two women left the high-tech kitchen to serve coffee to the Warners and their six dinner guests.

Jane almost laughed at herself as she bent down, dustpan and brush in her hand. In the last two years since she’d first begun this exclusive catering service to the rich and influential, she had moved from a one-woman band to being able to employ people like Paula and Rosemary to help with the serving, at least. But, nonetheless, she was back down on her hands and knees sweeping up! Some things just never changed!

‘My dear Jane, I just had to— Darling…?’ Felicity Warner herself had come out to the kitchen, coming to an abrupt halt as she spotted Jane on the floor behind the breakfast-bar. ‘What on earth—?’

Jane straightened, holding out the dustpan containing the broken cup. ‘You’ll be reimbursed, of course—’

‘Don’t give it another thought, darling,’ her employer for the evening dismissed uninterestedly, the affectation sounding perfectly natural coming from this elegantly beautiful woman, slim in her short, figure-hugging dress, long red hair loose about her shoulders, beautiful face alight with pleasure. ‘After this evening I’m hoping to be able to buy a whole new dinner service and throw this old thing away!’

‘This old thing’ was a delicate china dinner service that would have cost thousands to buy rather than hundreds! ‘It’s been a success, then?’ Jane queried politely as she disposed of the broken cup, her movements as measured and controlled as they usually were.

‘A success!’ Felicity laughed happily, clapping her hands together in pleasure. ‘My dear Jane, after the wonderful meal you’ve served us this evening, Richard is likely to divorce me and marry you!’

Jane’s professional smile didn’t waver for a second, although inwardly the mere thought of being married to anyone, even someone as nice as Richard Warner appeared to be, filled her with revulsion. Although she knew Felicity was only joking; her husband obviously adored her and their two young daughters.

But she was pleased the evening seemed to be working out for this friendly couple. Cooking this evening’s meal for the Warners had been a last-minute arrangement, aided by the fact that Jane had had a cancellation in her busy diary. And, from what Felicity had told her this afternoon, the last few months had been difficult ones for her husband’s business. The couple could certainly do with a little good luck for a change!

Although it was the first time Jane had actually cooked for Felicity, she had found the other woman warm and friendly; in fact, the other woman had been chattering away to her all afternoon. Some of it through nervousness concerning the success of this evening, Jane was sure, and so she had just let Felicity talk as she continued to work.

Every morsel of food that had appeared on the table this evening had been personally prepared by Jane herself, even down to the chocolates now being served with the coffee, meaning that she’d spent a considerable time at her client’s home before the meal was due to begin. Felicity, aware of how important this evening was—to her husband, to the whole family—had followed Jane about the kitchen most of the afternoon, talking endlessly. So much so that Jane now felt she knew the family—and their problems—intimately. Felicity obviously felt the same way!

‘Nothing has actually been said, of course,’ Felicity continued excitedly. ‘But Gabe has asked to meet Richard at his office tomorrow morning, so that they can “talk”.’ She smiled her pleasure at this development. ‘A vast improvement on just buying Richard out and to hell with him! And I’m sure it’s your wonderful meal that’s mellowed him and tipped the balance!’ She grinned conspiratorially. ‘He told me he doesn’t usually eat dessert, but I persuaded him to just try a little of your wonderful white chocolate mousse—and there wasn’t a word out of him while he ate every mouthful! He was so relaxed by the time he had eaten it that he readily agreed to talk with Richard in the morning!’ she concluded gleefully.

So it wasn’t the other man who had actually asked for the meeting, but Richard Warner who had instigated it. Oh, well, a little poetic licence was allowed on the other woman’s part in the circumstances. Felicity’s husband ran and owned an ailing computer company, and, from what Felicity had told Jane, this man Gabe was a shark: a great white, who ate up his own species as well as other fish, without thought or conscience for the devastation he left behind him. The fact that he had agreed to have dinner with them at all had, according to Felicity, been more than she had ever hoped for.

The man sounded like a first-class bastard to Jane, not a man anyone would particularly want to do business with. But the Warners didn’t seem to have any choice in the matter!

‘I’m really pleased for you, Felicity,’ she told the other woman warmly. ‘But shouldn’t you be returning to your guests…?’ And then Jane could begin the unenviable task of clearing away. She never left a home without first doing this; it was part of the service that none of the mess from her catering would be left for the client to clean up. Paula and Rosemary would leave as soon as they had served coffee, but Jane would be here until the end of the evening.

But she didn’t mind that. She would work an eighteen-hour day, as she had done a lot at the beginning, as long as she was independent. Free…

‘Heavens, yes.’ Felicity giggled now at her own social gaffe. ‘I was just so thrilled, I had to come and tell you. I’ll talk to you again later.’ She gave Jane’s arm a grateful squeeze before hurrying back to rejoin her guests in the dining-room, leaving a trail of the aroma of her expensive perfume behind her.

Jane shook her head ruefully, turning her attention to the dessert dishes. Under other circumstances, she and Felicity might have become friends. As it was, no matter how friendly they might have become today, Jane knew she would leave here this evening and not see Felicity again until—or if—the other woman needed her professional services again.

She readily admitted that it was a strange life she had chosen for herself. Her refined speech and obvious education—an education that had included, thank goodness, a cordon bleu cookery course—set her apart from many people, and yet the fact that she was an employee of Felicity’s, despite being the owner of the business, meant she didn’t ‘belong’ in that set of people, either.

A strange life, yes, but it was one that gave her great satisfaction. Although occasionally it was a lonely life.

‘—really is an absolute treasure,’ Felicity could be heard gushing out in the hallway. ‘I don’t know why she doesn’t open up her own restaurant; there’s no doubting it would be all the rage.’ Her voice became louder as she entered the kitchen. ‘Jane, I’ve brought someone to meet you,’ she announced happily, a thread of excitement underlying her voice. ‘I think he’s fallen in love with your cooking,’ she added flirtatiously.

There was no warning. No sign. No alarm bells. Nothing to tell Jane that her life was about to be turned upside down for the second time in three years!

She picked up the towel to dry her hands before turning, fixing a smile on her lips as she did so, only to have that smile freeze into place as she looked at the man Felicity had brought into the kitchen to meet her.

No!

Not him!

It couldn’t be!

She was successful. Independent. Free.

It couldn’t be him. She couldn’t bear it. Not when she had worked so hard. ‘This is Gabriel Vaughan, Jane.’ Felicity introduced him innocently. ‘Gabe, our wonderful cook for the evening, Jane Smith.’ She beamed at the two of them.

The Gabe Felicity had been chattering on about all afternoon had been Gabriel Vaughan? The Gabriel Vaughan?

Of course it was—he was standing across the kitchen from where Jane stood as if she had been turned to stone. He was older, of course—but then, so was she!—but the granite-like features of his face still looked as if they had been hewn from solid rock, despite the fact that he was smiling at her.

Smiling at her? It was the last thing he would be doing if he had recognised her in return!

‘Jane Smith,’ he greeted in a voice that perfectly matched the unyielding hardness of him.

He would be thirty-nine now. His dark hair was slightly overlong, easily brushing the collar of his dinner jacket, and he had a firmly set jaw, sculptured lips, a long, aristocratic nose jutting out arrogantly beneath the only redeeming feature in that hard face—eyes so blue they were almost aquamarine, like the clear, warm sea Jane had once swum in off the Bahamas, long, long ago.

‘Or may I call you Jane?’ he added charmingly, his American accent softening that harshness.

The black evening suit and snowy white shirt that Gabriel Vaughan wore with such disregard for their elegance did little to hide the power of the body beneath. His wide shoulders rippled with muscle; his height, at least six feet four inches, meant that he would easily tower over most men he would meet. At only five feet two inches tall herself, Jane had to bend her neck backwards to look up into that harshly carved face, a face that seemed to have become grimmer in the last few years, despite the fact that he was directing a charming smile in her direction at this moment.

Oh, Paul, Jane cried inwardly, how could you ever have thought to come up against this man and win?

But then, Paul hadn’t won, had he? she acknowledged dully. No one ever had against Gabe, if the past newspaper reports about this man were to be believed. In fact, now that she knew who Felicity and Richard Warner were dealing with, she believed Felicity might be rather premature in her earlier feelings of celebration!

‘Jane will be fine,’ she answered him in the soft, calm voice she had learnt to use in every contingency over the last three years—although she was inwardly surprised she had managed to do so on this occasion!

This was Gabriel Vaughan she was talking to, the man who had ripped through the fabric of her life as if he were a tornado. She was damn sure he had never looked back to see what destruction he had left behind him!

‘I’m pleased you enjoyed your meal, Mr Vaughan,’ she added dismissively, hoping he would now return to the dining-room with his hostess. Outwardly she might appear calm, but her legs were already starting to shake, and it was only a matter of time before they would no longer support her!

He gave an inclination of his head, the overhead light making his dark hair almost appear black, although there were touches of grey now visible amongst that darkness. ‘Your husband is a very lucky man,’ he drawled softly.

Questioningly, it seemed to Jane. She resisted the impulse to glance down at her now bare left hand, knowing that not even an indentation now remained to show she had once worn a gold band there. ‘I’m not married, Mr Vaughan,’ she returned distantly.

He looked at her steadily for long, timeless seconds, taking in everything about her as he did so. And Jane was aware of everything he would see: nondescript brown hair restrained from her face with a black velvet band at her nape, pale, make-upless features dominated by huge brown eyes, her figure obviously slender, but her businesslike cream blouse and black skirt doing nothing to emphasise her shapeliness.

What Jane didn’t see when she looked at her own reflection in the mirror—and would have been horrified if she had!—were the red highlights in the abundance of the shoulder-length hair she was at such pains to keep confined, or the stark contrast between that dark curling hair and the pale magnolia of her face, those huge brown eyes often taking on the same deep sherry colour of her hair. Her nose was small, her mouth having a sensual fullness she could do little to hide—despite not wearing lipgloss. In fact, she deliberately wore no make-up, but her face was peaches and cream anyway, adding to the hugeness of her captivating brown eyes. And, for all she believed her clothes to be businesslike, the cream blouse was a perfect foil for her colouring, and the knee-length of her skirt could do little to hide the curvaceousness of her long, silky legs.

‘May I say,’ Gabriel Vaughan murmured huskily, his bright blue gaze easily holding hers, ‘that fact is to one poor man’s detriment—and every other man’s delight?’

‘My dear Gabe,’ Felicity teased, ‘I do believe you’re flirting with Jane.’ She was obviously deeply amused by the fact.

He gave the other woman a mocking glance. ‘My dear Felicity,’ he drawled dryly, ‘I do believe I am!’ He turned back challengingly to Jane.

Flirting? With her? Impossible. If only he knew—

But he didn’t know. He didn’t recognise her. There was no way he would be looking at her with such warm admiration if he did!

Was she so changed? Facially, more mature, yes. But the main change, she readily accepted, was in her hair. Deliberately so. Once her hair had reached down to her waist, a straight curtain the golden colour of ripe corn—a stark contrast to the shoulder-length chestnut-brown it now was. She had been amazed herself at the difference the change of colour and style made to her whole appearance, seeming to change even the shape of her face. And eyes she had always believed were just brown had taken on the rich colour of her hair, the pale skin that was natural to her blonde hair becoming magnolia against the rich chestnut.

Yes, she had changed, and deliberately so, but until this moment, with Gabriel Vaughan looking at her with a complete lack of recognition, she hadn’t realised just how successful she had been in effecting that change!

‘Mr Vaughan…’ She finally found her voice to answer him, her shocked surprise under control, if not eliminated. She was Jane Smith, personal chef to the beautiful and affluent, and this man was just another guest at one of those dinner parties she catered for. He shouldn’t even be out here in the kitchen! ‘I do believe—’ she spoke slowly but firmly ‘—that you’re wasting your time!’

His smile didn’t waver for a second, but that brilliant blue gaze sharpened with interest. ‘My dear Jane—’ he lingered over the deliberate use of her first name, well aware of her own formality ‘—I make a point of never doing that.’

Outwardly she again remained calm, but inwardly she felt a shiver of apprehension down her spine. And it was a feeling she hadn’t known for three years…

‘Now, Gabe,’ Felicity cut in laughingly, linking her arm through his, ‘I can’t have you upsetting Jane,’ she scolded lightly. ‘Let’s go back to the dining-room and have a liqueur, and let’s leave poor Jane in peace.’ She slanted an apologetic smile towards Jane. ‘I’m sure she would like to get home some time before morning. Come on, Gabe,’ she encouraged firmly as he still made no effort to move. ‘Or Richard will think we’ve run away together!’

Gabriel Vaughan didn’t join in her throaty laughter. ‘Richard need have no worries like that on my account. You’re a beautiful woman, Felicity,’ he added to take the sting out of his initial remark, ‘but other men’s wives have never held any appeal for me.’

Jane drew in a sharp breath, swallowing hard. Because she knew the reason ‘other men’s wives never held any appeal’ for Gabriel Vaughan. Oh, yes, she knew only too well.

‘I’m sure Richard will be pleased to hear that,’ Jane dismissed with a calmness that had now become second nature to her. ‘But Felicity is quite right; I do still have a lot to do. And your coffee will be going cold.’ She turned to smile at Paula and Rosemary as they returned from serving coffee and liqueurs. Their timing couldn’t have been more perfect!

She willed Gabriel Vaughan to leave the kitchen now, before her calm shattered and her legs collapsed beneath her.

She had believed she had succeeded in pushing the past to the back of her mind, but at this moment she had a vivid image of three years ago when her own photograph had appeared side by side with this man’s for days on end in all the national newspapers.

She had wanted to run away and hide then, and to all intents and purposes she had done so. And although he wasn’t aware of it—and she hoped he never would be—the man who had once haunted her every nightmare, waking as well as asleep, had finally caught up with her!

He was still watching her, that intent blue gaze unwavering, despite the urgings of his hostess to return to the dining-room. His behaviour, Jane knew, was bordering on rudeness, but, as she was also aware, he was very conscious of the fact that he had the upper hand here this evening. In the process of buying out Richard Warner’s ailing company, backed up by the millions of pounds that was his own personal fortune, he had no reason to do any other than what he pleased. And at this particular moment he wanted to look at Jane…!

Finally—when Jane was on the point of wondering just how much longer she could withstand that stare!—he visibly relaxed, smiling that lazily charming smile, his eyes once more that brilliant shining aqua. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Jane Smith,’ he murmured huskily, holding out his hand to her in parting.

Paula and Rosemary, after one wide-eyed glance in her direction at finding their hostess and one of her guests in the kitchen chatting away to Jane, had busied themselves washing up the dessert dishes Jane hadn’t been able to deal with because of the interruption. And Felicity was smiling happily, still filled with what she considered the success of the evening. Only Jane, it seemed, was aware that she viewed that hand being held out to her—a long, ringless hand, filled with strength—as if it were a viper about to strike!

‘Thank you,’ she returned coolly, not about to return the pleasantry. If there were any ‘pleasure’ attached to this meeting then it was definitely all on his side!

But she knew she had no choice but to shake the hand held out to her. Not to do so would be inexplicable. At least, to everyone else in the room. She knew exactly why she didn’t want to touch this man—his hand or any other part of him. And if he knew, if he realised, he wouldn’t be holding out that hand of friendship either!

His hand was cool and dry, his grip firm. Not that Jane gave him much chance to do the latter, her hand against his only fleetingly.

Those startling blue eyes narrowed once again, his hand falling lightly to his side. ‘Perhaps we’ll meet again,’ he said huskily.