Jonquils for Jax: The Rousseaus #1 (The Blueberry Lane Series Book 12) (20 page)

She gasped as he thrust up and held, then drew back. He repeated the action slowly, deliberately, watching her eyes roll back in her head each time he surged forward.

“What’s…the first…rule?” he panted, on the very brink of coming.

“Never look away,” she murmured, opening her eyes as he propelled his hips upward and drove into her depths, holding her eyes as the walls of her sex contracted, then pulsated around him, milking him in tight, fast ripples that he could feel to his very soul.

Her forehead dropped onto his shoulder in blissful exhaustion, and he lay back on the bed, still intimately connected with her, turning gently with her so they could lie on their sides and he could stare at her face as she rode out the last waves of her orgasm.

Her skirt was bunched between their stomachs, but he slid her bra and shirt over her head, raising her arms to help her when she whimpered for help. He pulled his T-shirt off so that their chests were bare, then pulled her into his arms, moving gently within her. He was spent, but she still pulsed and trembled around him with tiny aftershocks that made him want her all over again.

Breathing deeply into the curve of his neck, she nestled against him, sighing her pleasure.

He ran his fingers through her long dark hair.

“So she said yes?” he asked, picking up their conversation from earlier.

“Mm-hm,” she murmured.

He didn’t know why exactly, but he didn’t trust her mother. From what he’d gathered through their many conversations about her family, her mother seemed self-absorbed and self-serving, and a small shiver of doubt sluiced down his spine as he thought about the joy in her face when he walked through the door earlier.
It would hurt her, badly, were she to lose this house
, he thought, holding her closer as her breathing settled into a deep and easy rhythm. He withdrew from her body and smoothed her skirt as best he could, then rested his forehead against hers, closed his eyes, and joined her in sleep.

***

Ring. Ring ring ring.

Ring. Ring ring ring.

Jax opened her eyes slowly to her dark bedroom, feeling bleary-eyed and tired. Gard snored lightly beside her, and she looked over his shoulder at the clock. Four o’clock. Who the heck was calling at four in the morning?

Ring. Ring ring ring.

Reaching over her sleeping boyfriend, Jax grabbed her phone and looked at the screen.
Maman
.

She sat up against the headboard, pressing talk before putting the phone to her ear. “
Maman
? It’s four o’cl—”

“I don’t give a
shit
what time it is!”

Jax exhaled a held breath, her blood running cold from the snarl in her mother’s voice. “I don’t—”

“It’s all over the Internet. At least four of my friends have sent me the pictures, Jacqueline.”

“What…?”

Her mother cleared her throat. “We don’t have a name for the mystery man making out with Jax in the pool, but our sources saw him coming and going from the gardener’s cottage at an adjoining estate. Maybe Jacqueline Rousseau is finally getting her field properly plowed.”

She gasped in horror. Oh God. The paparazzo had sold the pictures from two weeks ago.

“
Maman
,” she started, her voice a sob as memories of being hounded in LA came rushing back to her, making her feel frightened and exposed.

“Fucking the neighbor’s gardener? I am the laughingstock of my friends, Jacqueline!”

“It’s not like that…I’m in love with—”

“Shut your mouth! Don’t you
dare
tell me you’re in love with a gardener or I will reach through this phone and strangle you.”

“Jax?
Cher
?”

Jax glanced down at Gard, who looked groggy but concerned, and she shook her head at him, placing a finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet.

“
Maman
, you have to understand—”

“I made some calls, Jacqueline,” said her mother in a voice that managed to be both calm and furious. “Your father had the same interest in Hollywood that you do. I called one or two of his old associates, and darling daughter, from what I can gather, you don’t have a project right now. No one’s seen you out in LA since February!”

“I didn’t like being there. I wanted—”

“What? To hide from the world in that garish monstrosity of a mansion?” Her mother paused. “If you think you’re still buying that pile of stone, you’re delusional. I’m selling it, but
not
to you, and you have one week to leave or I will arrange to have the police remove you. I’m not going to enable this spiral into destruction. Fucking the neighbor’s help and living in a mausoleum? No. No, no, no. Not
my
daughter. The house goes on the market tomorrow, and hopefully this is the kick in the ass you need to go back to LA and get your life back on track!”

Tears streamed down her face, and she balled her fists in frustration. “That’s not the life I want!”

“Then find a life that doesn’t include fucking the neighbor’s gardener, you stupid, spoiled girl!”

“You can’t do that! You can’t tell me how to live my life! You can’t…” Her voice trailed off in defeat. Somehow she knew her mother had hung up and she was talking into a void. She pulled the phone from her ear to see a blank screen and threw the phone across the room, sobs rising up from within her.

“
Cher
…” said Gard, sitting up and pulling her onto his lap, into his arms. “What happened?”

“The pictures of us…w-were published online. She’s…she’s a horrible fucking snob, and she’s p-pissed about you being a—a gardener. And she won’t…she won’t…” She covered her face with her hands, sobbing pitifully against his shoulder. “I have to be out of here in a w-week.”

“What?”

“She’s s-selling it. She’s selling Le Chateau, but sh-she refuses to s-sell it to m-me.”

“Because of me?” His arms around her tightened. “Because she objects to me?”

She nodded. “She barely approved of Kate English for Étienne…and she wants me to go back to Hollywood. Her
friends
want me to make another movie.”

“I see,” he said, his voice tight and angry.

She leaned back to look at his face in the moonlight. “You know I don’t feel that way! I love you.”

He searched her eyes, then gently pushed her head back down to his shoulder. “I know you do,
cher
. I love you too.”

“It was all c-coming together,” she said, hiccupping. “The sh-show, this house, us. Now it’s just…”

“Just what…?”

“B-blown to hell!” She sobbed, feeling miserable but still nestling closer to him for comfort. “I have nowhere to live!”

“You can stay with me.”

“At the Englishes? God, I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I…,” she leaned back to look at the black of his eyes. “I can’t stay in the Englishes’ gardener’s cottage.”

“I’m invitin’ you.”

“It’s one room. It’s barely big enough for you.” She leaned her cheek back down on his shoulder and sighed, feeling exhausted and defeated. “I’ll—I’ll go stay with Mad for a while.”

“You hate the city.”

“I’ll have to deal with it for a few weeks.”

“And we’ll be apart,” he said, his body tensing.

“Just until we can figure something out.”

“I see,” he said again, in that cold, dark tone he’d used before.

She leaned back. “Gard, I love you. I want to be with you.”

“Do you,
cher
?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He sighed, then nodded, pulling her back down to the bed and into his arms. Tears still slid down her face as she turned her back to his front and settled her naked body against his.

It felt like there was more to say…more that needed to be said, or should be said, but she couldn’t think of what. Finally, Gard’s voice broke the dark silence.

“Duchess,” he said, his voice gruff. “How important is this house to you?”

She considered his question, thinking about her happy childhood memories with her siblings and the blissful few weeks she’d just spent sharing Le Chateau with Gard. She thought about the pool and studio, the gardens and her bedroom. She’d had plans, in her mind, to make a home for herself in Haverford—to make friends with Daisy and Skye, to come home to Le Chateau every day when filming on
Philadelphia Vice
was finished. Having to start over? To pack and find somewhere else to live that held none of the history and happiness of Le Chateau? It hurt.

“When I was walking in the darkness, on the night of my brother’s wedding, I was thinking about destiny. Did you know that? I wondered where I was going and what I was doing and what the universe had in store for me. I didn’t know then, but I found out a few minutes later…the universe had you. You helped me make sense of my life. Everything fell into place because of you.” She sniffled softly. “You were my destiny, Gardener Pierre Thibodeaux. But this house? This house was my dream. I have known happiness here. I would have liked to stay.”

“
Ça va
, Duchesse
,” he said, pressing his lips to the back of her neck. “If you can, sleep. I forgot to tell you, I need to go to New Orleans in the mornin’.”

She turned to look at him. “What? Why?”

“Just some family business,
mon coeur
.”

Her heart sank. “But…I’ll be here all alone, and I’m so…”
sad
. Then it occurred to her that she was being very selfish. Perhaps his mother or sisters needed him. Perhaps there was a family emergency. “Is everything okay?”

“It will be,” he said, kissing her neck again. “I’m sorry about the timin’ and so sorry about your house,
cher
. If I could—”

“You can’t,” she said, turning back around in his arms and closing her burning eyes.

Jax’s arms were laden with bags when she arrived at Mad’s place on Thursday night for dinner. She shoved them into a corner of the front vestibule of her sister’s apartment, then greeted her siblings: Mad, J.C., and—just back from their honeymoon—Étienne and Kate.

“Where’s Gard?” asked Mad. “Wasn’t he coming with you?”

Jax accepted a glass of wine from her brother as she sat down next to Kate on the couch in Mad’s living room.

“Still in New Orleans,” she said.

“I thought he was supposed to be home by today,” said Mad, sitting on Jax’s other side.

“Me too,” said Jax, feeling forlorn.

They’d spoken every day since he’d been gone, and he always told her he loved her when they hung up, but he’d been very mysterious about the purpose of his visit, and she couldn’t help but worry that this time apart was badly timed with them being evicted from their love nest.

“What about Thatcher?” asked Jax. “Another conference?”

Mad’s face froze for a moment before recovering. “That’s right.”

“You pressed charges, Jax?” asked Étienne. “Over the pictures?”

Was something going on with Mad? She gave her sister a curious look before turning to Étienne and nodding. “I did. I have my lawyer looking into it. I’m pressing charges for trespassing, and I want the pictures removed from the website.”

“Good for you,” said her brother, who was a lawyer. “If you run into any snags, let me know.”

“Your boyfriend…Gard. Will we meet him tomorrow night at Skye Winslow’s party?” asked Kate with a hopeful smile.

Jax nodded. “As far as I know, he’s supposed to be back by then.” She turned to J.C. “Another appraiser came by today to look at Le Chateau. Did you speak to
maman
?”

J.C. nodded, but Jax could tell from his expression that the news wasn’t good. “She won’t sell to me either. Or Ten or Mad. She said she’s selling to a stranger and that you need to get your ass back to LA.”

“She’s crazy,” said Jax with a sniff. “I have no plans to go back to Hollywood. Ever.”

“Thatagirl, Jax,” said Étienne, raising his glass to her. “So what’s your plan?”

She shrugged. “I have to find a realtor, make time to look at houses, find one I want, put a bid on it, move…it’s exhausting even to think about. For the meantime, I’ll stay here.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” said J.C. “Who else is going to the Winslow thing?”

“I saw Skye yesterday,” said Jax. “Looks like Barrett and Emily English, Fitz and Daisy, Stratton and his girlfriend…”

“Valeria,” supplied Kate.

“Fucking Stratton,” muttered Étienne, earning a disapproving look from his wife, who was Stratton’s cousin.

“Weston and his fiancée…um…”

“Molly,” said J.C., looking slightly pissed for no good reason.

“Right. Molly. Um, let’s see. Brooks and Skye, of course. Cameron and Margaret Winslow. Elise Winslow is in a show on Broadway, so she and Preston can’t come, and Christopher can’t get away from Washington right now.”

“Two Winslows down,” said Étienne, winking at J.C.

“The less, the merrier,” said Étienne, saluting his brother.

“The Storys?” asked Kate.

Jax nodded. “All four are coming, in addition to Margaret. That was a shocker. I didn’t even know Alice lived around here anymore.”

Étienne gave J.C. a look. “Oh,
Alice
is coming. Did you hear that, Jean-Christian? Alice!”

“Shut the fuck up, Ten.”

“What about the Amblers?” asked Mad.

“Bree, yes. Sloane yes.”

Mad groaned. “Sloane? Ugh.”

J.C. perked up. “Sloane was always hot.”

“And easy,” added Étienne.

Kate gave her husband a dirty look.

“Not that I ever sampled the goods,
chaton
.”

“What’s Sloane up to these days?” asked J.C.

“She owns an antique store,” said Mad.

Jax turned to her sister. “You keep in touch with her?”

“N-not really,” said Mad, standing up quickly. “J.C. needs a refill.”

“What about Cort, Jax?” asked Étienne with a shit-eating grin.

“As far as I know, he’s coming.”

“New boyfriend and old boyfriend all in one place, huh?”

“Shut up, Ten,” said Mad, coming back into the living room with a bottle of wine to refresh everyone’s glass.

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Kate. “That’s right! I almost forgot you two used to date.”

“Ancient history,” said Mad, giving Jax an anxious smile.

Jax nodded in agreement. “Dark Ages-ancient.”

“And Dash?” asked J.C.

Jax shrugged. “No idea. He never got back to Skye.”

“That’s because he’s in Calcutta,” said Mad. When everyone in the room turned to her to find out how the hell she knew that, she shrugged, then bustled back toward the kitchen. “I need to check on dinner.”

“I’m sorry about Le Chateau,” said Kate, slipping closer to Jax on the couch as J.C. and Étienne started a conversation about European soccer.

Jax sighed. “I should have seen it coming.”

“Your mother is…challenging.”

“She wasn’t very nice to you, was she? The month before the wedding when she was visiting, I could tell she was being a bitch. I’m sorry I didn’t intercede more. I was too wrapped up in my own life to see how awful she was.”

“My own parents weren’t exactly a walk in the park,” said Kate. “Let’s just assume I can handle difficult parents. Yours
and
mine.”

“She just has certain ideas about our futures,” said Jax. “And they don’t include dating ‘the help.’”

“You new boyfriend…is he really a gardener?”

Jax felt her lips twitch into a smile. “Sort of. He was a detective, but he was injured two years ago and doesn’t see as well as he used to. He had to retire.”

“Injured?” asked Kate.

“Shotgun blast too close to his face. Compromised his eyesight.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kate. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but if he’s partially blind, how exactly does he garden?”

She thought about the times she’d watched him, kneeling in the soil, close to the earth. “He takes his time. His father was a landscaper.”

“You really like him,” said Kate, her voice a little lower, her blue eyes serious.

Jax nodded, leaning closer to Kate. “I
more than
like him. I love him.”

Kate nodded, giving Jax a sweet smile. “I can tell. I just didn’t want to say it…in case you didn’t realize it yet.”

“My mother will flip if he ends up being the one.”

Kate cocked her head to the side. “But be honest, Jax—do you really care?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I just—I would have really liked to have Le Chateau, you know? She never loved it, but I always have.”

“Of course you do. It’s your home.”

“Yeah,” said Jax. “Or it
was
. But for the first time in a long time, I know where I’m headed. I’m staying here in Philly with all of you. And Gard. I’m making my TV show. My mother’s not in charge of my life. I am. And I’m not going to let fear keep me in a box anymore.”

“Good for you, Jax,” said Kate, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Good for you. And when you’re ready to go house hunting, give me a call. I think Étienne and I are going to be in the market for a house soon too. We can look together!”

Jax raised an eyebrow. “But Ten loves the city.”

“Mmm,” said Kate, looking over at her husband with a twinkle in her eye. “He does.”

“Dinner’s ready,” said Mad, coming from the kitchen and looking flustered.

Between Mad’s weird inside knowledge of the Amblers’ whereabouts and Kate’s sudden interest in house hunting, Jax felt like she was missing big pieces of these conversations, but J.C. put his arm around her shoulder to usher her into dinner, and talk quickly shifted to Étienne and Kate’s Mooréa honeymoon. And the moment to pull Mad or Kate aside slipped away in the inevitable hubbub of a family reunited.

***

“Just get it done,” said Gardener, slapping his palm on Flannery “Flint” Lenox’s massive mahogany desk. “I’ve been here for three danged days. This is ridiculous. It’s
my
money.”

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Thibodeaux, it is,” said Flint, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “But your daddy left me very specific instructions, and I am
not
willin’ to dishonor his good name by lettin’ y’all buy some Yankee piece of prop’ty that hasn’t been appraised to my standards, y’hear?”

“I’ve
seen
the house. I’ve been
livin’
there. I’d say seven million sounds about right.” Gard clenched his jaw, sitting back in the black wicker guest chair as sweat dripped in rivulets down the sides of his face, and gave Flint Lenox a dark look.

“And don’t be glarin’ at me none either, son. I knowed you since you was in short pants.” Mr. Lenox adjusted his glasses, then picked up his phone, dialing a number. “Hey, darlin’, it’s Flint here. You heard from that appraiser up north yet? Hmm? Unh. Well, now. No, no. I’m glad to know it. Yes, ma’am. How ’bout you fax that report to me? Thanks, darlin’. Oh, yes, ma’am, we’ll see y’all at the Baptist picnic Sunday next. Wouldn’t miss it. Best to ’ole Humph too.”

Gard gave Flint an exasperated look.

“The report come in and I was right. Ain’t worth seven million. Worth closer to six. Maybe even five point five in this market.”

“So call her and offer six. I want the contents included. She wants to unload it, right?”

“Yes, sir, from what the broker tells me.”

“So?”

“So it’s…” Flint checked his watch. “…seven o’clock in Paris. You want to call the lady this evenin’?”

“Hell, yes,” said Gard. “I need to get back to Philadelphia.”

“Dang, you adopted some Northern ways, son, barely restin’ a moment to breathe.”

“Flint?” said Gard, trying for a more patient tone. “Please make the call?”

“…in a danged rush,” said Flint under his breath, dialing the number of Liliane Rousseau’s real estate broker in Pennsylvania. “Hello? Well, hello, there. Flannery Lenox here.” He chuckled. “Aren’t you sweet to remember me?” More chuckling, which just about made steam pour from Gard’s ears. “That client I called you about yesterday…well, he’s ready to make an offer, but I should warn you, it’s under the askin’ price.” Flint paused, nodding at whatever the broker was saying as he turned to take an incoming fax off the machine. “Yes, ma’am, I have the new appraisal here. Uh-huh. I can fax it up to your office. Looks like the property has devalued a bit over the past thirty years. Bull market.” He turned back to the machine, slipped the fax in the top tray, and dialed a number. “Comin’ to you right now. Appraiser’s the one you recommended.” He paused again, looking at Gard as he listened. “We’re thinkin’ six as-is, contents included. Yes, ma’am. Fifty percent down.” He raised an eyebrow and his mouth wobbled into a smile. “I know twenty percent is customary, but my buyer is…motivated. He’s set on fifty. She does, huh? Tell her Gardener Pierre Thibodeaux of the Nawlins Thibodeauxs. Yes, ma’am. Fine Acadian family.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Buyer says he needs an answer today, so would you be a darlin’ and give her a call? I know, I know, but he’s eager to get matters settled. Uh-huh. Bindin’ escrow agreement today. Tomorrow at the latest.” He looked up at Gard and shrugged, then suddenly his face brightened. “Well, that’s just fine. We’ll wait to hear from you. Thank you, kindly. Uh-huh. Bye now.”

He hung up the phone and gave Gard a sour look. “She’s callin’ the Rousseau woman in Paris, and she’ll call us back after they’ve spoken.”

Gard nodded. “That’s fine. You think she’ll call back today?”

“Can’t tell what she’ll do, but why don’t you go visit with your mama a spell and I’ll call you if she agrees.”

Standing up, Gard offered his hand to Flint. “Thanks for this.”

Flint frowned at him but took his hand. “Never did understand why you wanted to put down roots up there, Gard. This is a big commitment, to buy a house.”

“I know what I’m doin’, Flint.”

“Well, I surely hope so. You’re going to deplete damn near all of your trust, and you’ll be saddled with a thirty-year mortgage, taxes, maintenance. Some might call this insanity, son.”

Gard put his hands on his hips and grinned. “How much you love Miss Maisy?”

Flint lifted his jowly chin, pointing a finger at Gard. “You know how I feel about that woman. Met Maisy-Jane on a Tuesday. Proposed on a Wednesday. Had to wait a danged year for her to say yes, but I never wavered. Not once. She was it for me, and I knew it from the word go.”

“Some might call that insanity, son,” he said quietly.

“Dang it, but you always had a smart mouth,” said Flint, shaking his head back and forth. “Go on and get out of here. I’ll call you if she says yes.”

“Call me anyway, Flint.”