"Is there champagne?" Jo asked with interest.
"It's being chilled. It should be ready after the others leave. But there are all sorts of other goodies out there if you're thirsty or hungry."
"I'm starved," Jo admitted. "We came right here from the airport."
Alex arched her eyebrows as her gaze slid over Jo's slinky, long black dress. "You flew here like that?"
"Are you kidding? I flew here pretty much na**d most of the time," she said with amusement, and when both sisters' eyebrows flew up, explained, "It was a company plane. Bastien sent it for us, and Nicholas and I were alone in the passenger section. I'm now a member of the mile-high club several times over. That man can't keep his hands to himself."
Alex gave a laugh. "And I suppose you wanted nothing to do with it and were trying to fight him off?"
"Oh, good Lord no." Jo chuckled. "I may even have started the getting-naked part. He, however, started the touchy-feely business. I was trying to behave myself until then."
"I didn't hear that, I so didn't hear that," Sam said, tossing her own bag away. "You're my little sister. You don't have sex. You're still a virgin, and as far as I'm concerned will be until I die."
"What about Alex?" Jo asked with amusement.
"Her too," Sam assured her. "Neither of you have sex, and that's that. When the babies come, I will exclaim with amazement over the fact that immaculate conception happened again."
Alex and Jo laughed at the claim.
"All right, Alex, we've hogged you long enough. We should let you get back to your opening," Sam said more seriously. "We can catch up later back at the house. Have one of our girly nights."
"Are you staying at the house?" Jo turned to Alex to ask with happy surprise.
Alex grimaced. "Yes. Mortimer and Cale insist on it until Jacques is found."
"Jacques Tournier?" Jo asked with a frown. "What-?"
"I'll explain," Sam interrupted firmly. "Alex, you really should get back. One of the reporters might be panting for an interview."
Alex nodded, but said, "I need to use the bathroom first. You two go ahead."
"All right, we'll hold down the fort in your absence," Sam said, ushering Jo toward the door.
Alex watched them go, smiling to herself, and then turned to open the door to the bathroom. She flicked on the light and started inside, only to pause as she spotted the man inside, seated on the toilet.
"Oh, sorry," she began with surprise. "I didn't realize-" She stopped abruptly as the man stood, and she realized he was dressed, just sitting on the closed toilet lid. It was then she actually looked at him. Once she'd realized someone was on the toilet, she'd immediately averted her eyes, but now she looked at his face and her eyes widened as she recognized the man with three days' worth of stubble on his face. "Jack."
"Jacques," he corrected grimly, starting forward. The gun she now noted in his hand jerked to gesture her away from the door as he walked, and she quicklyshifted to the side, moving around him and trading places as he closed the door.
Eyeing him warily, Alex stopped beside the toilet and peered at him in question. "Now what?"
It seemed the most reasonable question. He had the gun, and while she didn't think he could kill her with it now that she'd been turned, he could certainly hurt her. No one liked to be hurt. However, her question seemed to irritate him. Or perhaps it was her lack of weeping and wailing in terror she realized when he sputtered with frustration.
"You don't do anything the way you're supposed to," he spat with frustration. "In France, you were supposed to love me enough that you would claim you had stolen my recipe, but did you? No. You let them believe I had stolen yours."
"You did steal mine," she said at once.
"But if you loved me like you said you did, you should have taken the blame. But you didn't. You let them kick me out in disgrace," he snapped. "My father never forgave me for that."
"Well, that's hardly my fault," she said impatiently. "And I did love you. Or I thought I did. Enough that if you'd asked me for help, I would have helped you, but instead you stole it."
"And then I go to all the trouble and expense of opening a restaurant near yours, and do you even notice? Hardly. You just wish me luck and go about acting as if it's fine with you."
"It was fine with me," she said dryly. "There are a lotof people in Toronto, Jack, certainly, enough to support two French restaurants."
"Jacques," he snarled. "And I know you were laughing at me, thinking I wasn't real competition because I didn't graduate the great culinary school," he said bitterly.