LUCIEN: A Standalone Romance (3 page)

Lucien

Jacob was at the table, a newspaper spread out in front of him alongside his plate of toast and a poached egg. He was the only person I knew who still read the newspaper in its original form. Even our parents read it on iPads these days.

“Anything interesting happening in the world?” I asked as I pulled a bowl of sliced melon out of the fridge.

“Not really. The mayor of Sugar Land is threatening a tax on junk food again, but I don’t really think he can get past the local merchants’ group.”

“Won’t do any good, anyway. It’ll just make it forbidden fruit, and more people will buy it.”

Jacob nodded.

I carried my fruit to the table and pulled the pager-sized pump out of my pocket to dial up the amount of insulin I’d need to cover it. It was an automatic action that I rarely thought about anymore. Jacob didn’t seem to notice, either. I dropped it back into my pocket and reached over for the business section.

“Where’s Adrienne?”

I’d known this was coming. In fact, I think I might have been disappointed if he hadn’t asked.

“Slipped out a couple of hours ago. Something about an early meeting.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

I looked up. “I liked her. Didn’t you?”

Jacob shrugged. “There’s something odd about her. Did you see those shoes she was wearing? I mean, who wears silver ballet slippers anymore?”

“She has interesting taste. That’s not a bad thing.”

Jacob looked down at his paper again. “Maybe. Besides, I wasn’t the one she was tangled up with in the backseat of the car.”

“Did that bother you?”

“Not sure how you want me to answer that one, brother,” Jacob said as he gathered his dishes and carried them to the sink. “I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t bothered by a porn show going on right in front of me.”

“It wasn’t a porn show. Just a little making out.”

“If that’s what you call making out, please don’t invite me to witness you moving to second base.”

“What do you call making out, then?” I asked, twisting in my seat so I could see him.

“Some friendly kisses.”

I laughed. “With that sort of mentality, I’d have to assume you were a virgin until your wedding night.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, either.”

I just shook my head, turning back to my breakfast. “I wish you luck in the dating world, brother. Things have certainly changed in the ten years you’ve been off the market.”

“I’m not even divorced yet and you’ve already got me dating? Don’t rush me.”

“Have you seen Lynn since she kicked you out?”

“She didn’t kick me out. She simply said she needed a little space.”

“And made you leave the house that you paid for.” I glanced at him. “I hate to break it to you, brother, but that’s what is called ‘kicking someone out’.”

Jacob turned and stormed toward the garage door. “I’m going to the office. I’ll meet you there later.” And he disappeared through the door.

I waited, listening for the garage door to open, then close. Then I went to the window and watched his car make its way down the driveway and disappear onto the street.

I trusted my brother. I believed that he wouldn’t want to sabotage his own company. But I had reason to believe that someone in the company was trying to sabotage the human trials of the artificial pancreas, and I needed to rule Jacob out myself. I didn’t want Ruben Garcia or his daughter searching through his files, or tipping him off to my concerns.

I abandoned my breakfast for the bedroom Jacob had been living in since his separation began three months ago. It was a spare room at the back of the house that was originally designed to be a mother-in-law room, so it had more than just the typical layout of a guest bedroom. There was a decent-sized sitting room when you first walked through the door that held a love seat that was a castoff from the living room and the flat screen television Jacob had bought and installed himself. Off to one side was a kitchenette that Jacob kept stocked with the junk food he liked to indulge that he knew I was reluctant to buy. Not because I shouldn’t eat it—because I did, more often than I liked to admit—but because I preferred to not to have to hit the gym more than twice a week.

He also had a desk over there in what should have been a small dining room. That’s where I was headed. I knew he kept files from the office there, often files for ongoing projects. I picked through the papers scattered across the top of his desk, noting the names on envelops and the little notes he’d scribbled on small pieces of paper. There was a manila envelope there addressed to him with the office address on the label. I opened it and slipped the thick sheaf of papers out. Divorce papers.

Shit!

I didn’t know Lynn had already served them to him. I knew he was hoping they would be able to work things out. But I guess that was all an illusion he was content to continue to promote.

There was nothing else there. No project files, nothing on the pancreas. Not that I had expected there to be, but I had to admit it was something of a relief.

The thing was, someone had tipped off a local reporter that we were developing an artificial pancreas despite the fact that Jacob had publicly denied it multiple times. How word got out was anyone’s guess. The project was top secret. Only five people knew about it. Me. Jacob. Two biomedical engineers. And a computer programmer. And I trusted those people with every fiber of my being. We’d worked together since the beginning. And I went to college with Tito, the programmer. These were my brothers, my friends. I knew they would never leak anything about the device. But someone had, and I needed to find out who it was before the leak destroyed everything we’d worked so hard on.

We couldn’t have reporters nosing around. Not yet. Corporate espionage was a real threat. This sort of technology was worth billions in a market that was growing every day. If another company got ahold of our plans before the patent was in place, we could kiss the device and everything we’d put into it goodbye. But it wasn’t just about the money to me. It was personal. This was why I’d gone into business with Jacob, why I’d devoted the last five years of my life to developing the device. If we lost it now just as we were about to cross the finish line, it would be devastating. I couldn’t let that happen.

That’s why I’d gone to Ruben Garcia. Everyone said he was the best when it came to corporate security. And he promised that he and his company would keep word of the device from getting out before the patent was secured. I had to believe that.

And it didn’t hurt that his delectable daughter was a part of the deal.

I just hoped she didn’t become an obstacle rather than a solution.

Adrienne

“How did it go last night?”

I looked up from my disorganized desk and watched as my father lumbered into the room, his clothes dirty and his eyes heavy with lack of sleep. He’d been on a stakeout, watching some rich CEO’s house to make sure his stalker didn’t show up again. It was the third time this week he’d had to take the stakeout because Bennie, the investigator who normally handled stakeouts, was on another case and I was busy with this biomedical case.

“You should go home and get some sleep, Poppy.”

He brushed off my concern with a wave of his hand. “How did it go? Was he too heavy handed?”

“It was fine. I handled myself, thank you very much.”

“Oh, I know you can take care of yourself. I’m just concerned about this guy getting a little too touchy feely and you forgetting you’re playing a role and taking his head off.”

“It’s fine,” I repeated, aware that a blush was spreading over my cheeks as I spoke. I simply turned and focused on my laptop, pretending there was some important email that needed my attention more than my father.

He sat heavily in a chair in front of my small desk. “Did you get a good feel of the brother? Do you think he might be capable of something like this?”

“I doubt it. The company is the only thing this guy has going for him right now. His wife kicked him out and filed for divorce a month ago. He has no children, no close friends as far as I can tell. He has no one in his life but his family, especially his brother. And his company.”

“Yeah, well, people have done stranger things when offered an insane amount of money.” My father rubbed his face, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I asked around. A patent like this one would be worth more than a few billion dollars. If it’s really everything Mr. Montgomery says it is, it would be absolutely priceless. Millions of patients would require it, and they would likely pay almost any price for it.”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I was reading about these devices. It does seem to be very valuable to a lot of people.”

“If I were the brother, I might not care too much about brotherly love if someone offered me a billion dollars to steal it. Besides, aren’t they stepbrothers or something?”

“Yeah. Jacob is a product of his father’s first marriage, and Lucien is the son of Callahan’s third wife’s first marriage.”

“Confusing.”

“A little. But what it boils down to is that they aren’t really related, and Jacob is eleven years older than Lucien, so they didn’t really grow up together. They act close, but it could be just that. An act.”

“Okay.” My father stood and stretched, a huge yawn threatening to dislocate his jaw. “Stay close to Mr. Montgomery, and keep an eye on Mr. Callahan. I’ve got Sara and Mercedes checking out the other three names Montgomery gave us. If any red flags come up, they’ll call you.”

“I’m actually due to meet Lucien at his office at two.”

“Like that?”

I looked down at myself. I was wearing my typical office attire: jeans and a vintage t-shirt. I was not a skirt and heels kind of girl. I’d always been more comfortable in jeans, the result, likely, of the fact that my father raised me on his own after my mother died in a car accident when I was nine. My mother and my younger sister, Amelia. He never was one to learn how to do pigtails or to shop for prom dresses. So I wasn’t either. And then there was the military. Not exactly a feminine atmosphere there, either. The dress I’d worn last night? Borrowed from Theresa, our receptionist. And the makeup? A saleswoman at the local Dillard’s applied it and sold me everything I’d need to do it again. The only thing was, I wasn’t sure I could repeat what she’d done.

“I’ll change.”

“It probably wouldn’t hurt for you to take Theresa and go on a little shopping spree. You could charge it to the company card, since it is for a case.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think about it, Adrienne. This is a high priority case that could lead to more cases like it. It’s important we treat it that way.”

I nodded, feeling properly chastised. We’d already had this conversation, in some form, after he agreed to take the case without telling me what it was I was going to have to do. It hadn’t been quite as cordial as all this.

My job was to work in the background, find the person who was causing our client problems. Usually it was simple things, like death threats and stalkers. I did research, followed people around as they went about their day, coordinated with the police when we caught someone breaking the law. I occasionally had to hang out in an office, and for those occasions I had a simple business suit. But this… It was completely out of my job description.

“You’ll have to act as his girlfriend for a week.”

“His girlfriend?”

“Dress up. Show up at his office. Watch the people around him.”

“That’s usually the kind of thing you have Mercedes do.”

“Yes, well, Mercedes is busy with another case. And she doesn’t quite fit his type.”

“His type?”

“He wants someone he can take to formal dinner. Someone who won’t cuss the waiter out in Spanish if he looks at her sideways.”

“So send Sara.”

“Sara’s also on a case already, Adrienne. You’re all we have, and this is an important case. I wouldn’t send you if it wasn’t.”

“You’re my pimp now? Is that it?”

He didn’t acknowledge that statement, and I apologized later. But I still didn’t like what he found so easy to make me do. But, again, I wasn’t sure he was fully aware of how enthusiastically the client took the whole girlfriend charade. To my father, dating consisted of nothing more than a few dinners out and some innocent handholding. Maybe a chaste kiss at the door. If he’d seen Lucien’s hand under my skirt last night, it would not have been good for either of them.

I sighed as I watched my father walk out the door. Then I picked up the phone and called down to the reception desk.

“Can you get Robert to watch the desk for you? I need your help.”

I nearly turned and walked back out when Theresa pulled me through the doors of a boutique in River Oaks. This place was so far outside of my comfort zone that I couldn’t even breathe the stale, upscale air. But Theresa had a firm hold on my arm and dragged me farther into the room until a saleslady caught sight of us.

“How can I help you?” the woman asked, her nasal voice matching the way she looked down her patrician nose at us.

“My friend here needs a new wardrobe. ASAP. And she has an unlimited credit line on her credit card.”

The saleslady’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Well, then, follow me.”

She led the way to a back room that was clearly reserved for special customers. There was a long couch and a lovely bar in one corner, and a raised platform where models could come in and show off the latest fashions. I felt like I’d fallen into a bad chick flick. The only thing missing was the appropriately aloof hero with the credit card between his fingers.

“I would guess you’re a size four?”

“Six.”

Her eyebrows rose, but she turned and left the room. A few minutes later, she was back, a handful of garments over her arm and a couple of models moving around the platform.

I wanted to scream.

Theresa was loving it. She made comments about each outfit, stuff about the material and the cut and… I had no idea. They all looked basically the same to me. But she picked out four different dresses, a couple of pantsuits, and two formal dresses that probably cost more than I made in a month. Once the clothes were selected, they made me try them on, but they didn’t just send me to a dressing room. They made me strip right there in front of them so that they could help with zippers and buttons, and so the seamstress could adjust any hemlines that didn’t fall where they was supposed to because of my limited height. I thought the saleslady might faint when she saw my basic cotton bra and belly-hugging granny panties.

“We really ought to take a look at some new lingerie, too,” she said in that nasally voice of hers.

“No one’s going to see my underwear.”

“You never know what might happen.”

So, somehow, I ended up buying three sets of push-up bras, two thongs, and a whole handful of some things called ‘boy short panties’.

But, I had to admit—rather grudgingly—I was impressed with the image in the mirror when I slipped into a black gown that had a heart-shaped bodice and a tight waist, but fell into a silky skirt. It made me look like a whole different person.

The saleslady came up behind me and scooped my hair up into a little twist at the back of my head.

“Look at that lovely neck,” she said. “That’s an Audrey Hepburn neck.”

That made me smile. My mother was a fan of Audrey Hepburn’s movies. We used to watch them late at night while we were waiting for my father to come home from work. I know now that she let me stay up late and turned on the movies to distract her from her fear that he wouldn’t come home. But it was still a fond memory. I still watch the movies myself when I need a little comfort.

“Thank you.”

“But we really need to do something about your shoes. Do you own a pair of heels?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t do heels.”

“But you must. Heels are the perfect accessory to a dress like this one.”

I shook my head so adamantly that she lost her grip on my hair and it began to fly around my shoulders like I was a madwoman.

“Adrienne,” Theresa said, “you should at least try a pump. They’re not that high. You could probably master them fairly quickly.”

I shook my head again, but no one seemed to notice. And the saleslady disappeared only to return with a pair of pumps in her hands. That was the last straw. I was not doing heels.

“No. I’ll wear that fancy underwear, and I’ll pay a fortune for these fancy dresses. But you will not get me into those shoes. No way in hell!”

But, of course, one pair of pumps was shoved into the top of my bags as I paid for the clothing and followed Theresa out of the store.