A Little Moonlighting

“Après moi le déluge,” he said, grinning at her as he repeated the famous quote attributed to Louis XV. “‘After me the deluge!’”

She laughed softly, shaking her head, not sure what the quote had to do with anything, but enjoying it anyway—enjoying him.

And that was part of her problem. She just enjoyed him too darn much! And that spoiled the rest of the male population for her. Every man she met she compared to Carter, and every other man came up wanting when she made those comparisons.

“More like, ‘after Paris, the resignation’,” she corrected him, her eyes sparkling. “Don’t forget. I’m quitting.”

He didn’t answer but his confident smile told her he would be working on new ways to keep her from doing that. And he was very good at orchestrating outcomes the way he liked them.

“‘The more you try to get out, the more they pull you back in’,” Meg quoted in her best mobster accent.

Amy laughed at her sister’s impression of a gangster. She’d always been a natural actress, even when they were both growing up together in San Diego. Amy remembered the neighborhood productions they had put on, with Meg playing most of the parts and other children drafted off the street to play against her. Amy herself was usually the set designer, promoter, ticket-taker and prompter. While Meg loved being in front of an audience, Amy had always preferred the behind-the-scenes activities.

“That’s about the size of it,” she admitted. “But I’m going to quit right after we get back from this trip. Honest.”

“Good.” Meg smiled at her sister. Only two years older, she’d considered herself the head of the family, ever since their parents had died a few years before. “Because, you’ve got to admit,” she went on, “you’re not getting any younger, Amy.”

Meg filled a little bowl with homemade strawberry ice cream and placed it on the kitchen table in front of her sister, then went on to fill two more tiny bowls.

Amy bit her tongue, taking up the ice cream and grabbing a spoon to eat it with, but fuming inside. What a dumb thing that was to say. Of course she wasn’t getting any younger. Nobody was. Meg might as well advise her to breathe air.

Still, she held back her temper and didn’t let her sister see how much she resented that comment. After all, she knew Meg was just trying to help her. She was concerned, and she wanted Amy to find a man and have the happiness she’d found with her husband Tim and her three little children.

Amy loved her sister. Looking at her now, with her common-sense attitude and her shiny auburn hair cut in a short bob, she felt a surge of affection. She really felt as though she’d neglected Meg over the past few years. She was on the road so much, she barely had time to stop by for holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving before racing off again to go to cities all over the world. Sometimes she felt that she hardly knew Meg’s little ones, and she regretted that.

“Besides, if you quit, you’ll have more time to date.” Meg turned and gave her a bright smile that failed in its attempt to seem offhandedly casual. “Paul is always asking about you.”

Paul was Meg’s neighbor, a perfectly nice man Amy had met over dinner at her sister’s. But she had to hold back her reaction once again, because while Paul was pleasant and had a certain charm, he was no Carter James.

Still, whom was she kidding? Carter was exactly the man she couldn’t get. Maybe Paul was more her speed. That is, if she really wanted to settle down and have a family.

“Deedee!” Meg called as she set out the two little bowls. “Scamp! Ice cream!”

A sound very much like that of stampeding cattle came thundering through the house and two very small children exploded into the room. The boy was a towhead with hair like flax. The little girl had a mop of chocolate-colored curls. They stopped dead when they caught sight of Amy. Deedee, all of eighteen months or so, reached out and clung to her four-year-old brother’s arm while they both stared, wide-eyed.

“It’s your aunt Amy, sillies,” Meg exclaimed with a short laugh. “Come give her a kiss.”

There was just no way that was going to happen. Amy could see it in their eyes.

“Hi, Deedee,” she said cheerfully, though she heard the oddly uncomfortable note in her own voice. And if she heard it, she knew darn well they did. “How are you, Scamp?”

“Fine.”

Scamp, whose real name was William, answered her but didn’t look eager to make physical contact. He put his arm around his little sister’s shoulders as though to protect her, and they both sidled away from their aunt, trying to reach the table without having to come within arm’s reach of their unfamiliar relative. And they got away with it, since Meg didn’t notice. She had turned away and was chattering on about something she’d seen in the paper that morning.

Amy felt her smile harden like concrete around her mouth. The children hated her. And she had no idea how to charm them. Why wouldn’t they be wary? They grabbed their dishes of ice cream and made tracks out of the room, glancing back with half smiles, then ducking their heads and disappearing. Here she was dressed to the hilt, on her way to the airport to leave for Paris. They’d never seen her like this before, in heels and a power suit, with the obligatory silk power scarf, and her hair combed back severely into a twist held by a diamond-studded comb. She even had on her power makeup, which could almost be considered a mask. All necessary for striking tremulous awe in the hearts of negotiating adversaries, but hardly the thing to endear nieces and nephews.

There was that, and the fact that she hadn’t been around enough lately for them to be holding many fond memories. Why did she let herself get so caught up in business that she neglected her family? She wasn’t going to let that happen any longer. She was going to pick a time and come over every week. Right after she got back from Paris.

She groaned softly, realizing how that sounded like putting things off again. She’d done too much of that. Could she change?

She finished off the ice cream and sighed as she pushed the dish away. Well, there you had it. She was frightening to small children. Was this the future she wanted? It was down to the wire and it was her choice. She had to change.

“I’d better get going if I don’t want to miss the flight,” she said, rising and giving her pretty sister a kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” Meg said stoutly, gripping her by the shoulders and gazing intently into her eyes. “You’re committed. You’re going to quit when you get back from Paris.”

Amy nodded, frowning with mock ferocity, and they both laughed as she went out the door, waving. But the laugh faded quickly as she made her way to her car.

Life without Carter. Was it possible?

But she did want to have a normal life and a family, and if she was serious about that, it was time to attack her problem with the right sort of focus and attention.

Suppose she took some time off and tried to get this done. What would it take? At least six months to find someone suitable and congenial whom she might want to marry. Another six months to really get to know him—and convince him that he wanted to marry, as well. Another six months to set up the wedding. Then a few months before getting pregnant…

She gasped in horror as she turned into the airport parking lot. It would take almost three years, from the moment she began her project, to the point where she could possibly have a baby in her arms. She was going to be a hundred years old before she got there!

It all seemed so hopeless. And as she stood waiting for the shuttle to take her to the international terminal, it did occur to her that there might be an indication of the root of her problem in the fact that she even thought about things like this in a business-like manner—projecting time frames and plotting out an attack the way she would plot out a business move. She’d been too long in the business world, hadn’t she?

She saw Carter waiting for her by the ticket counter and her heart leaped up as it always did when she saw him. She loved the way he stood, so casually sure of himself, so sure the world was his oyster. If only he were the marrying kind. If only he would somehow magically, suddenly, fall in love with her. That would take care of everything.

She sighed, then started forward, walking quickly to join him.

“Darn you, Carter,” she was saying under her breath. “Why don’t you love me?”

Chapter Two

One week later

Carter shifted his weight restlessly as he stood waiting for Amy outside the ICU unit of the Monte Vista Hospital. He hated the look of the place—the anonymous white walls, the stainless-steel appliances. He hated the mysterious sounds, the jarring smells. Even the pretty redhead giving him the eye from behind the nurses’ station didn’t make things any better. Every instinct he owned was screaming at him to run for it. As far as he was concerned, only bad things happened in hospitals. He’d had these feelings ever since, as a boy, he’d watched his mother die in one.

Ordinarily, he shunned them like the plague. But this visit had been unavoidable. The moment he’d heard the announcement paging Amy as they stepped into the terminal at the airport, disembarking the flight from Paris, a knot had pulled up hard in his stomach and it hadn’t yet let go.

They had raced to a phone and the message had been bad. Just hours before, Amy’s sister and her husband had been in a terrible car accident. They’d been hit by a drunk driver. Both were in critical condition. Carter would never forget the look on Amy’s face as she absorbed the news.

They had raced to the hospital and found that both injured parties were in surgery. Amy had turned to him, her face stricken and questioning—as though he could stop all this from happening somehow—and he’d wanted to do something big and grand to make it all go away for her, to protect her. But there was nothing he could do but stay with her, and that’s what he did.

Not that she seemed to notice most of the time. For the most part, she had sat huddled in a chair in the lobby, staring at the far wall. She’d looked up when he’d brought her a cup of water, looked up and smiled absently at him and thanked him. And then went back to staring at the wall. He watched her, feeling helpless and frustrated.

He could see her now through the glass partitioning off the ICU unit, bending over her sister as she lay in the bed, leaning close to kiss her gently, then turning toward the exit. Carter straightened. Maybe he could finally get her out of here.

She came out through the swinging doors and he winced as his gaze swept over her. Her eyes were huge and clouded with anguish. The dark smudges beneath them, the tension in her face, all told him things didn’t look particularly rosy right now.

“What do they say?” he asked, falling in beside her as she walked the corridor toward the elevator. “What’s the prognosis?”

She glanced at him as though surprised to find him there. “Oh. Carter.” She stopped and looked up at him. “Carter, what are you still doing here?”

“I wanted to…” He hesitated and shrugged, his eyes hooded. “To take care of you.”