Eventually, she trudged inside. She was so morose, she could have been a lovesick adolescent, suffering through the first throes of a romance.
When she'd been in the car with him, the world had seemed brighter, more exciting and thrilling. Without him, it was too quiet, duller, less stimulating. She wanted to return to that exhilarating moment when he'd kissed her, which was bizarre in the extreme.
She proceeded to the kitchen where Gracie would be expecting a full report.
"Well?" Gracie asked as she entered. "What's his plan?"
"He picked seduction. He plans to seduce me."
"Two can play at that game."
"That's what I told him."
Gracie studied her, checking that her clothes were on straight.
"What happened?" she inquired. "Anything interesting?"
"He kissed me."
"Excellent. Was he any good at it? What's your opinion?"
"The man is so friggin' dangerous."
"Ooh," Gracie cooed, "my favorite kind."
CHAPTER THREE
"She's different from what we were expecting."
"In what way?"
Lucas looked at his mother, Jacquelyn, and paused, gathering his thoughts so he could adequately describe Faith Benjamin.
They were in their Denver mansion, one of the city's grand old behemoths that had been built a century earlier with his great grandfather's mining fortune. Although it was beautifully designed and a historic landmark, it was also drafty and uncomfortable.
The large windows couldn't keep out the winter cold, the furnace—added decades later—didn't adequately heat the rooms, and when it rained, the roof leaked. The family rarely spent time in it.
His fussy sister, Brittney, preferred New York City. His lazy brother, Dustin, thrived in Los Angeles. His aloof, distant mother favored Santa Fe, while Lucas didn't really live anywhere. He liked to travel, and he enjoyed the freedom of being able to move on whenever he wished to leave.
The four of them didn't get along. His parents' marriage had been a train wreck, filled with bitter arguments and incessant conflicts. He and his two siblings were the survivors, raised by nannies and housed at boarding schools. As a child, he'd seldom interacted with Jacquelyn. He'd seen her on holidays and short summer breaks when he was home between camps. He hardly knew Dustin and Brittney.
Yet they'd made the trip to Denver. They were money hungry, intent on hoarding what was theirs, and only the potential loss of millions could have lured them to congregate.
"She's just a normal person," Lucas said of Faith, aware that the portrayal was unsatisfactory.
"There's no such thing as
normal
," his mother sniffed.
At age sixty, she was remote and brittle, thin to the point of emaciation. Her brown hair had turned to silver, her blue eyes lacked their prior vibrancy. She'd had too much cosmetic work done on her face, and the skin was stretched so tightly that her eyebrows were in a constant state of surprise.
"I suppose," Lucas clarified, "I should have said
ordinary
. She's not a drug addict or alcoholic. She's smart and shrewd and pretty, and she seems to have a good head on her shoulders."
Dustin scoffed. "You would notice that she's pretty."
"Well, she is. Should I lie and say she's an ugly hag?"
"Seduce her then," Dustin urged. "If she's pretty, it won't be a chore. Make her fall in love with you—that should be easy—and you can convince her to do whatever you want."
"I don't think it would be that simple. She's wary of me, and she has her own agenda. She's too intelligent to be fooled by fake flattery."
"Every woman can be fooled by fake flattery," Dustin insisted.
"Not her."
"If that's what you imagine, you should let me have a go at her."
Dustin was twenty-eight, Lucas's younger brother, and though they were only two years apart in age, Lucas felt decades older.
Physically, they could have been twins. They had the same height, build, and handsome facial features, but the resemblance stopped there.
Dustin was lazy and entitled, as was Lucas, but he took it to extremes and was ruthless in his pursuit of pleasure. The notion of his inserting himself into the mess with Faith was disconcerting. The last thing Lucas needed was to have his cruel, disreputable brother involved.
"Did you discuss the inheritance with her?" Brittney asked.
"She won't give it back without a fight."
"How could she expect to win against us?"
"She contends that all of this—the marriage, the money—was Harold's idea."
"A likely story," Brittney fumed.
She was very thin like their mother, a perfectionist determined never to put on an extra pound. While he and Dustin were dark-haired and blue-eyed like their parents, she was blond and her eyes green. She didn't look like the rest of them.
"Faith has two kids," Lucas said, "that she claims are Harold's."
His mother straightened in her chair. "Where would that arrogant old man have gotten any children?"
"I don't know."
"Is she the mother?"
"No, but she'll want to keep the bequest for them."
"That complicates matters," Dustin mused.
"It certainly does," Lucas agreed. "If this ends up in the news, we'll be the ogres, picking on the virtuous young mother who's merely trying to raise her dead husband's kids."
"You make her sound like a saint," his sister chided.
"Not a saint, but definitely a mama bear who will protect what's hers."
"Damn," Dustin muttered, "I was hoping this would be quick and easy."
"It couldn't be," Lucas said. "Not when there's this much money involved."
"So what is your plan, Lucas?" his mother asked. "You've been adamant that you could handle her, but apparently, it will be more difficult than you anticipated. We should let the professionals take over."
They had an army of private detectives ready to delve into Faith's life. They would turn over every rock, would expose every detail from her past and figure out how to twist them so they worked to her detriment.
Before he'd met her, he'd been gung-ho to have the detectives proceed, but he didn't want to clash with her—not if he didn't have to. After their little exchange up in the mountains, he was sure there were better ways to obtain information from her. Criminal charges would be incendiary,
would fuel a mean, degrading battle.
"Dustin suggests that I seduce her," Lucas told his mother.
"It's what you're best at," his brother pointed out. "You might as well play to your strength."
"And then what?" Brittney asked. "You lure her into bed and, while you're rolling around under the blankets, you get her to spill all her secrets?"
"That about covers it," Lucas retorted.
"Don't be vulgar," Jacquelyn huffed.
"She's attracted to me," Lucas said. "I can use that attraction to find out what I need to know."
"What if you learn that she deceived Harold?" Dustin inquired.
"Then I'll crush her, but I don't think I'll have to. I'll wear her down, and she'll eventually relent."
"I hope you're right," Dustin warned, "and I'll give you a week or two to bring her around."
"If I can't?" Lucas sneered, irritated by Dustin's bravado.
"I'll take care of her myself."
"Oh, good grief," Lucas grumbled. "What will you do? Hire somebody to off her?"
"You're being melodramatic," his mother complained.
"I am not," Lucas insisted. "I'm simply asking what he intends."
"I
intend
," Dustin said, "that if you don't fix this, I will. Between you and me, she's toast."
"I'll deal with her," Lucas advised, "and I don't need any of your dubious help."
He spun and marched out, weary of the family
moment
and eager to bathe and dress for his dinner date with the delectable, conniving, sexy Faith Benjamin.
When seduction was the game, and she was the prize, she didn't stand a chance.
* * *
"I see a car coming.
"Is it a Porsche?"
"I can't tell yet. It's too far away."
Faith checked her reflection in the mirror as she twirled in a circle and asked, "How do I look?"
"You'll give him a heart attack," her foster sister, Angela Turner, replied. "He'll be struck blind."
Faith laughed and vamped in various risqué poses.
She'd spent the day shopping for the right outfit. She'd chosen a skintight black sheath that had a shimmery thread running through the fabric so it sparkled whenever she moved. It was sleeveless, cut low in the front and the back, and it ended at mid-thigh, so she was showing all the leg she could manage—as Lucas had requested.
With a single strand of pearls on her neck, silver bangles on her wrists, and high, high silver heels on her feet, she was ready to dazzle.
At seven on the dot, she headed for the stairs, with Angela trailing along behind.
They were the same age and had lived together off and on for years. Angela had been reared in foster care too, had been rescued by Gracie. But where Gracie's intervention had turned Faith's life around, her benefit to Angela had been hit and miss.
Angela had a permanent bad attitude. She was never happy and felt that the world had conspired to make her miserable. Her problems were compounded by the fact that she drank too much, which had cost her several jobs.
Hard partying was wearing on her. Her auburn hair wasn't as lustrous as it had once been, and her brown eyes rarely glittered with merriment as they occasionally had when she was a girl. She had the worst diet, so she was on the chubby side, her jeans a bit too snug.
She'd constantly been jealous of Faith, and Faith probably should have severed their ties, but she wasn't that kind of person. She was too loyal, and she and Angela had a history that was important, namely their connection through Gracie.
Faith reached the foyer as a knock sounded. She opened the door, and Lucas was there, holding flowers and a bottle of wine. She couldn't help smiling.
He was more handsome than ever, his dark blue suit perfectly tailored to emphasize his terrific body. His white shirt and red tie enhanced his coloring so his skin was even more tan, his eyes even more blue.
He assessed her dress and murmured, "Turn around." She did, and he gave a soft whistle. "Very nice."
"I'm glad you approve." She gestured into the living room. "Come in, come in."
He stepped over the threshold and grinned. "I'm making progress. It's only my second visit, and I've been invited inside."
"Don't get used to it."
"Is Gracie here? Or your kids? Have I earned an introduction?"
"They're at the movies." Faith motioned over her shoulder to Angela. "This is my sister, Angela. Angela, this is the male nuisance I mentioned."
"Ha!" Lucas snorted.
"Hello, Mr. Merriweather."
"Is Faith usually this annoying?" he asked Angela.
"Yes," she said.
He shifted his attention to Faith's home, checking out the furniture, the hallway to the kitchen, the stairs up to the bedrooms. Obviously, he was searching for signs of avarice or excessive spending, but he wouldn't find any.
She was carrying on as she always had: frugally, modestly and comfortably.
She pointed to the flowers. "Are those for me?"
"Yes."
She took the bouquet, as well as the wine, and she was disturbed to see that the flowers were pink roses—her favorite—and the wine a French merlot—also her favorite. Its price was beyond her budget and one she splurged to buy only on special occasions.
Why would he know her preferences? Who had told him?
There were only two or three people in the world who could have supplied the information. Gracie instantly came to mind. Would he have phoned her?
Gracie viewed herself as a matchmaker, so she wouldn't have hesitated to share tidbits that would further a romance, but Gracie couldn't keep a secret. If she'd talked to Lucas, she'd definitely have blabbed about it.
"How did you know what I like?" she asked, frowning.
"I'll never tell."
"I bet I can make you."
"You can certainly try."
She leaned nearer, relishing the sparks that ignited. He was so close, and his hot focus flustered her. She couldn't deal with all the heat he generated.
Unable to catch her breath, she lurched away. "Shall we have a glass of wine?"
"I'd rather get going."
"All right. Let me…ah…"
Angela rescued her. "Give me the flowers. I'll put them in water for you."
"Thank you."