IT WAS A HIGH-STAKES GAME…
After her mother's tragic death, Laura Harte learns her life has been a lie. All she has left are questions. Why did her mother hide the truth from her? Why had her powerful father denied her? The answers can only be found in New Orleans—with a grandmother she never knew existed…and a man she isn't sure she can trust.
Hotel magnate Josh Logan owns some of the world's finest hotels—but not the one he wants most: The Princess. He'll stop at nothing to reclaim his grandfather's legacy. Even if it means winning the heart of the young woman to whom The Princess rightfully belongs.
AND THERE COULD BE ONLY ONE WINNER…
But as the secrets and sins of the past unravel, Laura and Josh find themselves in a dangerous game where no risk is too great and falling in love is not an option.
IT WAS A HIGH-STAKES GAME…
After her mother's tragic death, Laura Harte learns her life has been a lie. All she has left are questions. Why did her mother hide the truth from her? Why had her powerful father denied her? The answers can only be found in New Orleans—with a grandmother she never knew existed…and a man she isn't sure she can trust.
Hotel magnate Josh Logan owns some of the world's finest hotels—but not the one he wants most: The Princess. He'll stop at nothing to reclaim his grandfather's legacy. Even if it means winning the heart of the young woman to whom The Princess rightfully belongs.
AND THERE COULD BE ONLY ONE WINNER…
But as the secrets and sins of the past unravel, Laura and Josh find themselves in a dangerous game where no risk is too great and falling in love is not an option.
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Overview
IT WAS A HIGH-STAKES GAME…
After her mother's tragic death, Laura Harte learns her life has been a lie. All she has left are questions. Why did her mother hide the truth from her? Why had her powerful father denied her? The answers can only be found in New Orleans—with a grandmother she never knew existed…and a man she isn't sure she can trust.
Hotel magnate Josh Logan owns some of the world's finest hotels—but not the one he wants most: The Princess. He'll stop at nothing to reclaim his grandfather's legacy. Even if it means winning the heart of the young woman to whom The Princess rightfully belongs.
AND THERE COULD BE ONLY ONE WINNER…
But as the secrets and sins of the past unravel, Laura and Josh find themselves in a dangerous game where no risk is too great and falling in love is not an option.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781460363843 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | MIRA |
| Publication date: | 08/16/2023 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 384 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
Read an Excerpt
Chapter One
"You don't have to do this."
Laura looked up from the second safety-deposit boxshe was about to open into the solemn hazel eyes ofPaul Shaw, her mother's attorney and oldest friend, thehonorary uncle who had seen her through the bleaknessof her mother's funeral. "Yes, I do. It was the lastthing ..." Her voice broke, and Laura swallowed pastthe lump in her throat at the mention of that terriblenight. "It was important to her."
Reaching across the table, her uncle covered herhands with his own. "It's only been a few weeks sincethe accident. You've barely recovered physically, letalone emotionally. Going through the rest of Juliet'sthings now is only going to upset you. Why don't youwait a few weeks? Give yourself a little more time."
But going through the remainder of her mother's legalpapers and documents would be painful whenevershe chose to do it, Laura reasoned. She still didn't understandwhy her mother had needed a second safety-depositbox or why her uncle had been listed as a signerand not her. But whatever her mother's reasons hadbeen, they no longer mattered. She needed to do thisfor herself, Laura admitted. Once she had, maybe she'dbe able to put the nightmare of her mother's death behindher. "I'd rather just get it over with now."
For a long moment, her uncle said nothing. He simplystared at her, his expression somber. "I guessyou're right," he said finally, and released her hand.
Laura lifted the lid on the metal box, fully expectingto seemore bonds, stock certificates and legal papers.Instead there was only a single manila envelope witha file folder inside it. After opening the folder, Laurafrowned at the faded newspaper clipping of her father.Since Richard Harte had been killed shortly after marryingher mother, there had been very few pictures ofhim. And in those rare photos that she and her motherdid have of him, he was dressed in his navy uniform.
But not in this photo. In this black-and-white shot,her father wore a tuxedo. And the bride standing besidehim was not her mother. Stunned and more than a littleconfused, Laura glanced up from the news clipping toher uncle. "I didn't realize Daddy had been marriedbefore," she said. She would have sworn she'd knowneverything there was to know about her father. But thenagain, Laura reasoned, she could understand her mothernot wanting to share this bit of information with her.
Setting the clipping aside, she picked up the nextitem—a birth announcement dated nearly twenty-eightyears ago from a Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Jardine uponthe birth of their son. There was a second announcementfrom the same couple dated three years later announcingthe birth of twin daughters. Laura frownedagain, puzzled as to why her mother had kept theseannouncements and why they were in her safety-depositbox. "I don't remember Momma ever mentioninganyone named Jardine. Does that name soundfamiliar to you, Uncle Paul?"
"He was ... an old friend."
At the hesitation in her uncle's voice, uneasiness beganto stir inside Laura. Telling herself that she wasimagining things, she reached for the next newspaperclipping. This one was less faded, and her father didn'tlook quite as young as he had in the previous one. Onceagain he was dressed in a tuxedo and standing with theother woman. With trembling fingers, Laura smoothedout the piece of paper and read aloud the caption beneaththe photo. "Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Jardine at theKrewe of Rex Mardi Gras Ball in New Orleans." Suddenlythe room started to spin. Her legs nearly buckled."This can't be right," she said, her voice barely awhisper. "There's been a mistake!"
"Laura, honey ..."
Frantic, she began digging through the rest of thefolder's contents. There were more newspaper clippings,announcements, magazine articles, all accompaniedby photos of her father—her father, the manwhose picture sat in her living room, the father she hadbeen told had died before she was born. This mancouldn't be her father, Laura told herself as she triedto stifle her growing panic. Her father was dead. RichardHarte had died twenty-nine years ago, while thisman ... this man had clearly lived far longer, longenough to have a wife and a family. She repeated thewords to herself like a litany as she dug through therest of the newspaper and magazine clippings, the articlesand photos all bearing her father's image—andall identifying him as Andrew Jardine. A sob tore fromLaura's throat as she spied the clipping dated only adozen years ago of this smiling man who so resembledher father with his arms wrapped protectively aroundtwo young girls. "Andrew Jardine and twin daughtersat school fund-raiser," the caption read.
Pain ripped through Laura like a storm. Shesqueezed her eyes shut, curled her hands into fists. Howmany times growing up had she wished that her fatherhad survived that plane crash? That he'd been there tosee her grow up—40 carry her on his shoulders, to teachher to dance, to sit beside her at the father-daughterbanquets at school? And how many times had she consoledherself with the knowledge that had he lived, herfather would have loved her, been proud of the personshe had become?
Opening her eyes, Laura stared at the face in thenews clippings. This man wasn't her father. He onlylooked like him, she reasoned. Her mother would neverlie to her—certainly never about something so important.Sucking in a breath, she told herself there was asimple explanation for the resemblance between thetwo men. There had to me. "Uncle Paul, who is AndrewJardine? And why ... why does he look so muchlike my father?"
"Laura," her uncle said, his voice heavy with anguish,"Andrew Jardine is your father."
Laura flinched, the words hitting her like a blow. Shestared down at the damning news clippings, the imagesof the father she'd loved and never known. No, shewouldn't believe it, refused to believe it. "You're lying,"she accused, her voice hitching. She wrapped herarms around her middle. "He's not my father. My fatherwas Richard Harte. His plane was shot down inVietnam, and he died before I was born." She knewthe story by heart, had listened to her mother's talesabout their great romance, the idyllic marriage cut shortby her father's untimely death. This man couldn't beher father became that would mean ...
"Listen to me, Laura. There never was a RichardHarte. Your mother made up the name. Your father wasAndrew Jardine. And he didn't die in Vietnam. He diedin New Orleans about five years ago."
"You're lying!" Sobbing, she glared at him throughtear-filled eyes. "Why are you doing this to me, UnclePaul? Why are you making up such horrible lies?"
"It's the truth, Laura. I swear it on your mother'sgrave. It's the truth."
Oh, God! He was telling the truth, she realized. Allthese years, her mother and her Uncle Paul had lied toher.
Which meant her life had been a lie.
She wasn't Richard Harte's daughter.
There was no Richard Harte.
The heritage, the good name she'd been so proud ofall her life, they weren't really hers at all.
Hysteria bubbled inside her. How many choices hadshe made based on who she'd believed herself to be?How many times had she found a relationship lackingbecause the man had not measured up to the sterlingimage of her father? When all the while her father hadactually been ... She choked back another sob.
"I'm sorry, honey."
She thought of her mother, the person she'd lovedand admired most in the world. How could you,Momma? How could you have lied to me all theseyears?
"I know what a shock this is for you, finding outthis way—"
"Do you, Uncle Paul? Do you really have any ideahow I feel?" Another bolt of pain ripped through her.Her heart ached as she stared at him—the honoraryuncle she had loved and trusted all of her life. The manwho had perpetuated the lifetime of lies her mother hadtold her. "I thought you loved me," she told him, hervoice breaking.
"Laura, I do love you. I've always loved you.You're like a daughter to me." He gathered her to him,patted her back the way he had when she'd been a childand had fallen and skinned a knee.
For a moment, because the ache inside her was sogreat, Laura took comfort in the feel of his sturdyshoulder beneath her cheek, the familiar scents of peppermintand pipe tobacco that she'd always associatedwith him. She wept, remembering how she'd crawledinto her uncle's lap as a little girl and listened to storiesabout his adventures in the navy and his close friendshipwith her father.
And not a word of it had been true.
The admission was like a knife in her chest. Shelifted her head, took a step back and stared into hiseyes. "How could Momma do this to me? How couldyou?"
"Neither of us meant to hurt you. Please believethat. Hurting you was the last thing either of uswanted."
Laura mopped her wet cheeks with the handkerchiefhe offered her, then she clenched the white linen in herfist, "All these years I believed my father was a hero,that he and my mother had been deeply in love, devotedto each other." The smiling face in the clippingson the table seemed to mock her as Laura recalled thechild she had been, how each night she had gottendown on her knees and prayed for this man she'd believedto he in heaven watching over her. And all thewhile ... all the while he hadn't been in heaven. Hehadn't even been dead. He'd been alive and raising afamily in New Orleans.
Pain ripped through her at the sight of him with hisarms around the twin girls. She pressed her palm to herbreast, trying to ease the ache in her chest. When hermother had died in her arms that night on the dark, wetroad, Laura had been positive that nothing could everhurt her so deeply again.
She had been wrong.
Learning of her mother's deception and then havingthe memory of the father she'd loved stripped awayfrom her was every bit as wrenching. It was like losingboth of them all over again.
"I'm sorry, Laura. I'd sooner cut off my arm thanhurt you."
But he had hurt her ... terribly. So had her mother.Wrapping her arms more tightly about herself, Lauraignored the twinge in her left shoulder, the reminderof the accident that had left her with a separated shoulder,bumps and bruises, but had taken her mother's life.Oh, God! She swallowed back the spurt of anguish thatcame as she thought of her mother asking her to forgiveher. This was what her mother had tried to tell her thatnight.
"Please, try to understand."
"I don't understand. I can't," Laura countered. Shelooked at the jumble of clippings and photos on thetable. "And I don't know what to believe anymore."
"Believe that I love you," her uncle told her, hisvoice softening. "And believe that from the momentyour mother learned you were growing inside her anduntil the day that she died, she loved you, too."
"Is that why she lied to me all these years? Is thatwhy you lied to me?"
He brushed his fingers along her damp cheek wherethe last of the bruising from the accident had begun tofade. "It wasn't my place to tell you. It was yourmother's."
Laura stepped away from his touch. "And she choseto deceive me."
Her uncle sighed. His hand fell to his side. "Julietdidn't set out to deceive you. She only meant to helpyou. If you believe nothing else, believe that."
"Why should I?"
"Because it's the truth. You were so smart, evenwhen you were just a little thing," he explained. "Youwere barely able to talk when you starting asking questionsabout your father. Where was he? Why did theother daddies pick up their kids from school, but yourdaddy never came for you? You were so eager to havea father that you even asked me if I'd be your daddy."A pained expression flitted across his face for a momentbefore he continued. "Anyway, your mother wasworried about you. And she felt guilty for not beingable to provide you with the daddy you seemed to wantso much. That's when she started telling you the storiesabout your father."
"You mean the lies about my father, don't you?"
"She only did it to protect you. She didn't want youto think that your father hadn't wanted you."
But her father hadn't wanted her, Laura reasoned asshe looked at the photograph of him with his daughtersand felt that sharp sting of rejection. "My mothershould have told me the truth."
"She wanted to—especially as you grew older. Butshe was afraid that you wouldn't be able to forgive her,that you might even hate her."
"So instead she let me believe in a father who nevereven existed," Laura accused. The all-too-familiar achethat she had lived with since her mother's death welledup inside Laura again. As much as she had loved hermother, right now, she almost hated her. And the admissionboth shamed and angered her. Above all, ithurt. So much. So very much. She wanted to screamat her mother and demand she explain. At the sametime she wanted to bury her face against her mother'sshoulder, to hug her close and breathe in that combinationof talcum powder and the rose scent that hermother wore. The tears spilled over once more,streamed down Laura's cheeks. "How could the twoof you do it, Uncle Paul? How could you make upthose stories? How could you let me love someone whowasn't even real?"
Her uncle washed a hand down his face. For the firsttime he looked old to her, Laura thought, as though thevery life had gone right out of him. He picked up anaging photo of the handsome navy officer and the dark-eyedbrunette and traced the worn edges with his indexfinger. "He was real, Laura. Not everything was a lie.Twenty-nine years ago your father really was my bestfriend. We were flight buddies serving in the same unit.And your mother really was a WAVE nurse workingat the base hospital in San Diego when she met Drew."
Drew. Hearing her father referred to by the strangename shook Laura. Andrew Jardine was her father—notRichard Harte. She clamped down on the churningin her stomach that came with the realization. This wassomething she had to face, a problem she had to dealwith, she told herself. Drawing in a deep breath, shereminded herself that she dealt with problems everyday in her job as the assistant general manager at theAmbassador Grand Hotel. She would deal with thisproblem as she would any other—by listening, gatheringinformation and analyzing the data. Then shewould decide how to proceed, how to deal with thefact that she wasn't the person she'd thought she was.
"I was with Drew when he met Juliet for the firsttime. He was recovering from knee surgery and hadn'tbeen cleared to drive yet, so I took him to the hospitalfor his first physical therapy session. I remember it likeit was only yesterday," he said. Her uncle continuedto stare at the photograph. "Drew and I were sitting inthe waiting room, joking about how he had to get hisknee in shape so he could dance at his wedding thatsummer. Then we heard this angel's voice calling hisname. When we looked up, there she was. This visionwith wild dark hair and sparkling brown eyes. I thinkDrew fell in love with Juliet right there on the spot.And Juliet ... well, she felt the same way about him."
"Did she ... did my mother know he was engaged?"
"Yes," Paul admitted. "Drew was honest with her.He told Juliet right from the start about Adrienne."
Laura's heart sank. Her mother had known he wasan engaged man. And the two of them had had anaffair, anyway. She felt the bitterness of disappointmentas she digested that information. Only now couldshe admit to herself that she had been hoping for someplausible explanation, some tale about them being star-crossedlovers, anything to excuse her mother's actions.She had wanted, needed to believe that the relationshiphad been innocent, that she hadn't been a mistake.
As though he knew what she was thinking, her unclesaid, "Don't judge them too harshly, Laura. They triedto fight their feelings for each other. But Drew was atthe hospital three times a week for more than twomonths for therapy and Juliet couldn't very well claimthat she was unable to do her job because she was inlove with her patient. She was a WAVE nurse. Shedidn't have that option."
"She could have walked away from him. And hecould have left her alone."
"You don't know what it's like to be in love, reallyin love, the way they were," her uncle told her. "Thattype of love, it doesn't happen for everyone. If you'relucky, it might find you once. And when it does, itgrabs you by the throat and takes charge of your heartand soul, and it refuses to let go." The smile he gaveher was fleeting. "Even if you're able to walk awayfrom it, how you feel about the other person doesn'tchange. You don't stop loving him or her. Juliet andDrew could no more have stopped loving each otherthan you or I could stop an earthquake from happening.Your mother was in love with Drew, and he was inlove with her."
"Then why didn't they do the right thing? Whydidn't he break his engagement and marry my motherif he loved her so much?"
Paul rubbed a hand across his brow as though hishead were aching. "It was complicated. The Jardinefamily is an old, distinguished family in New Orleans.Things were done differently in the South, particularlyback then. Drew couldn't just break off his engagementbecause he'd fallen in love with your mother. Therewere other people who had to be considered, other familieswhose livelihoods were dependent upon his marriageto Adrienne."
"You make it sound like a business merger."
"In many ways it was. Drew's family was in thehotel business and so were the Duboises—Adrienne'sfamily."
That bit of news came as a shock to Laura Then sheremembered the newspaper clippings with the photo ofAndrew Jardine accepting an award in front of a hotel.A shudder went through Laura as she thought of thecareer she'd chosen in hotel management. Had hermother encouraged her interest because she'd knownabout the Jardine family's business? Or had her choiceof profession served as a painful reminder to hermother of the man she had loved and lost? Either optionleft Laura feeling sick inside.
"Drew was an only child with a widowed mother.He had responsibilities to her, to the other members ofhis family, to the people who worked for them. Hecouldn't just walk away from those responsibilities."
"So he walked away from his responsibility to mymother instead."
Her uncle shook his head. "It wasn't like that. Hewrote to his mother, telling her about Juliet, that heloved her and wanted to break his engagement to Adrienne.Naturally, his mother was upset. Adrienne andDrew had grown up together, had been childhoodsweethearts. Her parents were old friends and OliviaJardine, your grandmother ..."
A shiver went through Laura as she heard the womanreferred to as her grandmother. She'd never had agrandmother. And though she'd often wished hermother had had an extended family, she didn't wantone now—not this way.
"... Olivia loved Adrienne like a daughter, and Juliet ... well,your mother was a stranger and not evenfrom the South. Olivia insisted Drew come home todiscuss the situation before he did anything. So he didas she asked. He went back to New Orleans, and thenhe sent for Juliet."
"What happened?" Laura asked, her curiosity overridingher hurt and disappointment.
"I'm not really sure. Neither Juliet nor Drew evertold me exactly what went down."
They didn't need to because she had a pretty goodidea of what had transpired, Laura decided. Olivia Jardinehadn't wanted anything to do with her son's bastardchild. Had her father wanted her? she wondered.Obviously, he hadn't. She had been a mistake, the unexpectedresult of his fling with her mother. The realizationleft her feeling hollow inside. Turning away,Laura spied the clipping on the table of her father andhis children. And as she looked at the photo of theJardine family, Laura thought of her own life, all theyears she had ached to know him, to be loved by him.
"Only your mother and Drew know what happenedand why Juliet came back from New Orleans alone."
"Unfortunately, they're gone now and can't tell us,"she said, her voice hoarse with the effort it took not tocry. "But here I am—their shameful mistake."
"Your mother was never ashamed of you. She neverconsidered you a mistake."
"Somehow I doubt that the Jardine family wouldagree with her."
Excerpted from The Wager by Metsy Hingle. Copyright © 2001 by Metsy Hingle. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.