Authors: Elaine Raco Chase
Suddenly, Lucas felt the fool. His
dark gaze studied the intricate lace balconies that were the most exquisite
specimens of wrought-iron work in the French Quarter. The complexity of the
grill artistry reiterated the tumultuous feelings he now harbored.
Maybe he shouldn't persist. Maybe it would
be more sensible to leave their relationship alone. Kitty Byrnes might be
perfect for him. Amanda could stay here and work out her problems. Lucas
remembered Brian Neuman. What if he came back into her life? Or someone else
did?
"I think you'd be a fool not to
come." His words were delivered with savage force. At Amanda's arched
brow, his anger died. "Look, Mandy," Lucas bit his lower lip, the
clefts deepening in his cheeks, "I want you to be happy, and I know you're
not. I really believe a change is just what you need."
Amid the muted, striped awnings that
graced the elegant antique shops on Royal Street stood
Rags 'n' Riches
.
The pale coral stone building boasted a historic-site marker, commemorating its
birth in 1802, when New Orleans was the capitol of the Spanish frontier of
Louisiana and the street bore the name
Calle Real
.
Amanda had yet to acknowledge a
decision, and Lucas felt even queasier as he trailed into the shop.
Rags 'n'
Riches
was Amanda's child - an offspring of her personality. How could he
expect her to leave it in the hands of a sitter for a month?
The boutique's tasteful but
unassuming exterior gave way to an elegantly understated interior. The soothing
combination of French, Oriental, and contemporary furnishings and the
conspicuous absence of display racks led customers to believe they were in
someone's home.
Like many specialty stores, Amanda
built
Rags 'n' Riches'
reputation on quality merchandise and
personalized service. She considered each customer to be a guest. Each guest was
treated with inordinate hospitality.
The customer indicated how much was
to be spent and, while comfortably ensconced on a sofa, drinking iced tea,
mineral water or espresso, would be shown the appropriate fashions from the
fifteen enormous walk-in closets that concealed merchandise. The
customer-cum-guest was treated not only to an oasis of luxury and attention but
to privacy as well. No customer knew how much or how little another was
spending.
While there was a certain formality
to the shop, Amanda's staff was informal and friendly. The customer who came to
purchase a scarf was given exactly the same courtesy as the customer who was
spending thousands of dollars on a designer gown.
"Good morning, boss." A
cheery voice was heard a few seconds before a face fringed by blue-black hair
peeked up from beneath the glass jewelry display case. "I didn't expect
you this early."
"Good morning." Amanda gave
her managerial assistant a preoccupied smile. "Sherry Lau, meet Lucas
Crosse."
"Ah, I see yesterday's mystery
man is no longer that." An inscrutable expression blanked her artfully
made-up Eurasian features. "I take it he is not a pesky insurance
agent."
"Lucas is definitely
pesky."
"Touché." He flicked her
leaf earring before extending his right hand to Sherry. "I've heard so
much about you. Amanda tells me that you're one of her biggest assets."
Sherry's dark, sloe-eyed gaze shifted
to her boss. "Say, he's not bad" - she paused, sucking in her full
cheeks - "polite, glib and handsome."
"Lucas is launching a campaign
to get me to take a vacation." Amanda gently leaned her tall frame against
the glass counter. "He also wants me to decorate his ranch house in
Texas."
"It sounds like a marvelous
idea," Sherry agreed. One amazingly long almond-tinted fingernail
scratched the curve of her jaw. She directed her attention to Lucas. "I've
been trying to talk her into working half days this summer. It's our slow
period."
Amanda pointedly ignored Lucas'
raised eyebrow, reached for the stack of morning mail and adroitly changed the
subject. "Is that Reuben's sample?" She critically assessed the
cinnamon silk T-shirt that clung to her assistant's slender torso.
"Uh-huh." Sherry executed a
graceful pirouette; the tunic-styled shirt-tail bottom flared over chamois
slacks. "Yes?"
"You made a brilliant buy."
"Another point in my
favor," Lucas quickly inserted, folding his arms in smug satisfaction
across his broad chest. "Not only is Sherry perfectly qualified to manage
the store, but she also knows how to purchase. Now will you say yes?"
"Maybe."
"Lucas, do you have a telephone
at your ranch?" Sherry's musical voice queried with idle irony. "I
could always
call
Amanda if there was a problem."
"Certainly, and the Dallas
airport even has jets," Lucas added. The dimples forming in his
sun-bronzed face belied the seriousness of his tone. "She could be back
here in an hour."
Amanda cleared her throat, an
I-am-not-amused expression settling on her attractive features. "It's
wonderful the way you both pretend I'm not here." She hoped they would
suspend any further bantering but was chagrined to discover that Lucas and
Sherry had totally ignored her comment.
Concentrating on the mail, Amanda's
trained eye quickly delegated a position of importance to each envelope, leaflet,
brochure and catalogue. All but one could be ignored until later. She held up a
large manila mailer. "This may change things."
Amanda silently digested the cover
letter, then smiled. "It's from a major pattern company. They'd like to
have me design a few things for next spring's line." She handed Lucas a
six-page contract. "How does this look to your legal eye?"
Sherry's wide mouth twisted into a
grimace that immediately transformed into a smile when the small bell attached
to the front door announced the day's first customer.
"It's pretty standard,"
Lucas told Amanda after they had adjourned to her studio in the rear of the
store. Pulling a cranberry velvet-cushioned side chair next to the antique
library desk, he selected a pencil from a crystal holder and checked each
point.
"The money appears
excellent." One dark brow lifted in inquiry, then acquiesced to her nod.
"Is the time limit acceptable?"
"Yes, but it means no
vacation." Amanda leaned forward from her position on the edge of the
table. Cool fingers pressed his lips together. "It also means a new
challenge," she pointed out gently. "Lucas, I've never done anything
like this before. It could be the perk I need."
His long fingers clamped around her
slim wrist, dragging the barrier away. "There's no reason you couldn't do
the designs at my place," Lucas argued, his voice almost pleading. "I
know you. I know you'll concentrate every waking moment on this assignment,
finish it long before the due date and then aimlessly search for something else
to relieve your boredom."
Amanda pulled away from his incisive
gaze and began to prowl the elegantly decorated office. The cork tiles that
filled the middle of one wall were dotted with fashion sketches; material
swatch books were piled high in three corners; a dress form, its adjustable
proportions draped in a column of emerald linen, was silhouetted in the
studio's only window.
What she considered her second home
suddenly seemed like a cell. Her life a prison. Everything here was safe. Sane.
Secure. This was the end of her rainbow, her pot of gold. How could she abandon
it, even for a short time?
Yet Amanda realized Lucas was right.
She would totally submerge herself in the pattern company's designs. But how
long would that curb her restless vitality? Adrenaline would soar, then once
the project was completed, she would crash. Then what?
Hands in the pockets of her dress,
her chin pressed against her chest, Amanda stared at the burgundy and cream
dragons that chased gold and beige flowers on her oriental carpet. "Let me
have a week to think it over." Damn! Why was she still hedging?
Lucas leaned back in the
fragile-looking but surprisingly sturdy chair. "Take all the time you
need, Mandy. I had wanted to bring you back tomorrow, but perhaps you'll miss
me enough not to be able to wait a week."
She bent down to pick up a
dressmaker's pin that had lain almost, invisibly in the carpet. "I feel so
silly about making this a life-and-death matter." Amanda moved to his
side, frowning into his concerned features. "I guess I'm scared, and
that's a new feeling for me. I'm afraid I created an orchestra that can play a
symphony without the conductor. I'm also afraid that I won't miss the
music."
A comforting arm slid into the curve
of her waist, drawing her close to his side. Lucas let his cheek rub against
her silk-covered hip. "Listen, you know damn well you can never be
replaced. You are
Rags 'n' Riches
." He found he was choosing his
words with inordinate care. "I think you are in an enviable position. The
people who work with you are extremely competent and trustworthy, the business
is healthy, this seems the perfect time to break out and away."
Her knuckles gave a velvet tap
against his head. "Lucas, are you suggesting I try a whole new
career?"
He smiled up at her. "This
pattern deal could be something new. So could decorating. You did mention how
much you enjoyed interior designing."
Amanda's fingers absentmindedly
snaked through the coils of his hair. "That's a very interesting
suggestion. You know I fell into buying this store by overhearing a
conversation in the line at the bank," she reminded him. "Who knows
where a trip to Dallas may ultimately end."
"Just think of me as Fate's
messenger," came his dry quip.
Her vibrant laughter stirred the air.
Tipping Lucas' face up, Amanda lowered her own. "I love you."
He had heard her say that so many
times. Today he wished it were more than an innocent declaration. The exciting
scent of jasmine and roses aroused his senses. Lucas desperately craved her
soft lips, anxious to sample the sweet nectar stored inside her mouth but found
the kiss was a whispered gift against his slightly damp forehead.
He realized his fantasies were
becoming more foe than friend when it came to Amanda Wyatt. With Herculean
effort, he made a silent vow to keep his emotions neutral.
Amanda looked thoughtful for a
moment, then her diamond-bright eyes radiated with inner light. "Since
this is your last day in the city, why don't we play tourist. You only saw the
IRS office the last time you were here."
"Sounds good to me." Lucas
managed an easy smile.
With her taupe leather shoulder bag
slung bandelero style across her chest, Amanda led the way through the main
salon.
Rags 'n' Riches
was relatively calm. A well-known client, in the
sportswear area, raised her coffee cup in a silent toast. Two other customers
were busy inspecting scarves and hair accessories while Sherry was arranging a
display of locally fashioned hammered silver bracelets.
"I'm taking Lucas on a tour of
the Quarter," Amanda interrupted her assistant. "I'll call just
before closing." Sherry split her fingers in a victory sign and received a
hopeful smile from Lucas.
Pausing at the front door, Amanda's
fingers closed over his. "Lucas, would you like to pick out something for
Kitty? The jewelry Sherry is unpacking is quite lovely, and each piece is
unique. It would make a - "
He shook his head. "Our
relationship isn't at the gift-giving stage." The words came out in a
rush. Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the strain. "Kitty
may be nothing more than a passing encounter. I wouldn't want her to get the
wrong impression."
Amanda looked at him oddly, then gave
a perceptive shrug. She could readily understand his reluctance to make a
commitment on the basis of a six-week relationship. After all, hadn't it taken
her six months to realize that Brian was not the man for her?
***
Soft, warm spring air washed by a
gentle gulf breeze accompanied them on their walking tour. Already the sky was
thickening with black-bellied clouds, an omen of a stormy evening. And
evening
in New Orleans began after twelve noon.
They window-gazed along the shoppers'
paradise that was Royal Street. Over forty antique shops were packed into the
nine blocks, rendering it the country's most important antique center.
"This is a marvelous place to pick up quaint bric-a-brac," Amanda
informed Lucas. She pointed to a large shiny brass spittoon. "Wouldn't
that look great on the slate fireplace hearth you just built?"
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her through
a bright blue painted doorway. "I'm taking this as a positive sign you'll
be my interior decorator." A credit card completed the purchase - after
Amanda haggled the price down seven dollars.
Her fingernails clicked against his
bagged prize. "This will add a little class to your ranch."
Lucas looped his left arm through her
right. "Don't you think we Texans are civilized, ma'am?" His affected
drawl teased close to her ear.
"Lucas, you're from Maine!"
Amanda's lilting voice filled with affected mellow southern charm. "Long
before Sam Houston ever dreamed about the Lone Star State, New Orleans was a
sophisticated and civilized port. We had opera and gourmet cuisine. Fashions
and fine art. And -" Amanda stopped, jerking her companion to an abrupt
halt. Her right eyelid lowered in an outrageous wink. "We had sirens and
sin."