The resounding answer was
no.
She mustered the energy to yank away.
"Wait, wait," she anxiously pleaded.
"No. I want this, and
you
want this."
"Please, just…wait."
She wiggled off his lap. Feeling stripped raw and overexposed, she huddled in the corner, her face buried in the soft leather.
What was wrong with her? She'd slept with men before, and she'd thought she was ready to sleep with him too. But obviously, she had some issues to deal with first.
"Hey." He laid a warm palm on her back.
"I'm okay." She tugged at the straps of her dress, covering her breasts.
"What happened?"
"You…happened." She waved a hand, unable to describe her reluctance. "I guess I'm in over my head."
He chuckled. "You drive me wild."
"I'm glad."
"When I'm around you, I can't control myself."
She figured he used that line all the time, but she didn't complain. It was nice to hear him admit it—even if it wasn't true.
"I wasn't planning on having sex with you tonight," he claimed.
"I wasn't planning on it either."
"Especially not in my car. I got carried away."
"So did I."
"I don't know what it is about you, but…"
"But what?" she asked when he couldn't finish his sentence.
"I don't know," he repeated.
He appeared baffled by her. Was she an enigma? Was she a mystery? She doubted it. He was too smooth with women, and there were no secrets he couldn't unravel.
She realized that the car had stopped, and she peered out the window. They were parked outside her house.
"I better go in," she said.
"Not just yet."
"I need some breathing room."
"I want to see you again," he insisted.
"I have to think about it. I'm not sure if I should."
"Of course you should. There is a hot attraction brewing between us. I won't let you ignore it."
"It's all too much."
"How could I make it easier?"
Be a normal person. Be someone else. Be someone more like me.
She'd told herself that she could flirt with him and suffer no regrets, but now that they'd started in, she was so confused. She'd like to have sex with him but was fairly certain it would be a disaster. There could be no good conclusion, and she wouldn't pretend there might be.
He reached into his coat and withdrew a business card. It contained only his name, Lucas, with a phone number printed underneath. She supposed when he gave it to a woman, he didn't need to supply any other information.
"Call me tomorrow," he said.
"I might."
"Call me," he repeated more firmly.
"All right," she grumbled.
She'd have to call him. If she didn't, he'd call her, and he'd keep on and on, until she relented. He wasn't used to being denied, wasn't the sort of man to be put off.
"This is crazy," she stated.
"Yes, it is, but we're going to run with it and see where it ends."
"I don't even like you," she felt compelled to say.
"I didn't think I liked you either but I might be changing my mind."
He grinned a seductive, delicious grin that made her pulse race.
"You're insane," she said.
"You are too."
He kissed her nose, her cheek, and she let him. But if he kissed her on the lips again, there was no telling what she
might do. She grabbed the door handle and stepped into the street. Her sudden exit rattled the driver, and he leapt out and hurried around to assist her.
She should have turned and left, but the interior light was on, and it bathed Lucas in a golden glow. She wondered if it might be the last time she'd ever see him, and she wanted to remember him just as he was, in his tailored suit, gracefully lounged on the leather seat of his expensive car.
"Let me walk you to the door," he offered.
"I'm fine."
He gazed at her, and there were so many unspoken words swirling that she was practically dizzy. She was an instant away from jumping into the car, from ordering him to take her somewhere, anywhere, and never bring her back.
"Tomorrow," he finally said.
"Yes, tomorrow," she agreed, not sure if she meant it.
She whirled away and rushed inside.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Did you get the photos?"
"Yes."
Dustin Merriweather walked over to where his sister, Brittney, was sitting on the couch and dropped them in her lap.
They were in the Denver mansion, talking privately. Neither Lucas nor their mother had been invited to participate in the discussion.
Their mother hadn't been apprised, simply because Dustin couldn't stand her and wouldn't pretend they had a relationship worth pursuing.
As to Lucas, while he assumed they were united in their decision on how to deal with Faith Benjamin, he wasn't always right. Because he was the oldest, he thought his ideas should take precedence, but when a situation called for ruthlessness or malice, he was completely useless.
His main problem was that he could be sympathetic. He acted tough and callous, but Dustin and Brittney knew the truth. When they were children,
he
was the one who dragged home stray puppies, who rescued injured birds. Cold, aloof Jacquelyn never allowed them to have a pet, but Lucas had continued to try.
His obstinacy, combined with his occasional bursts of compassion, made him a worthless ally. If Faith Benjamin fed him a sob story, and he bought any of it, he'd start to feel sorry for her. He wouldn't be able to do what was necessary to resolve the issue.
During the family meeting a few days earlier, Dustin had agreed to let Lucas proceed, but Dustin was proceeding too. Not that Lucas needed to be informed. Dustin was hedging his
bets and not betting on Lucas. If Lucas failed with Ms. Benjamin, Dustin would step in and handle her himself.
Brittney was sifting through the pictures, and as Dustin settled next to her on the sofa, she peered over at him.
"She looks different than I imagined she would," Brittney said.
She held up a clandestine shot of Faith Benjamin, one of dozens snapped by the private investigator Dustin had hired. She was decked out in a slinky black cocktail dress, having just exited a restaurant where she'd had supper with Lucas.
The detective had been following Benjamin, hoping to glean some relevant facts, when Lucas had arrived in a limousine to take her out on a date.
Funny how Lucas hadn't mentioned it.
"What were you expecting her to look like?" he asked his sister.
"More…low class maybe? More rough or common? She's very striking, very pretty."
"Yes, she is."
"Lucas seems absolutely entranced."
"I wouldn't read anything into it. You know what he's like. He smiles that way at every woman."
"He hasn't breathed a word about their date," Brittney pointed out.
"No, he hasn't."
"What do you suppose that means?"
"He doesn't want us to know about it."
"And we can't ask him, or he'll find out we're spying on him."
"He wouldn't take the news too well."
"No, he definitely wouldn't."
They both chuckled, and Brittney studied the photos again.
"I can see why Harold was attracted to her," she said.
"Attraction had nothing to do with it. She confused and tricked him. She probably wrote the damn will and tortured him until he signed it."
They'd had experts review Harold's signature, and it appeared to be genuine.
"Will we get the money back? Tell me what you really
think."
"We'll get it, but we have to be relentless. We can't let Lucas screw it up. Pictures like this will help. They paint her in a bad light."
"How? She's stunning."
"A good lawyer will twist it all out of proportion. She's flaunting herself like a millionaire, wasting her dead husband's fortune. Or maybe she's a shark, starting in on the next generation of Merriweather. First she duped the grandfather, now the grandson."
Brittney laughed. "People who are acquainted with Lucas would never buy it. He can't be seduced. Not by someone like her. His tastes run a bit more…exotic."
"We're not shooting for the truth here. We're out to ruin her."
"So…whatever works?" Brittney inquired.
"Yes," Dustin replied. "Whatever works."
* * *
"Did you sleep with him?"
"Honestly, Gracie, it's only eight o'clock. What a question to ask so early in the morning."
Grace chuckled and sipped her coffee. "Does that mean the answer is no?"
"That
means
," Faith snapped, "that it's none of your business."
They were in the kitchen, Bryce and Peanut still in bed, and Grace's curiosity was raging.
"You didn't, huh?" she sniffed. "At least tell me he tried. I hate to consider that you spent cash on such a terrific dress and he barely noticed."
"He noticed," Faith grumbled.
"And…?"
"And he wanted to, all right? Give it a rest."
"No. You know I have no life. I have to live vicariously through you."
"Well, nothing ever happens to me, so if that's your plan, you'll die of boredom before too long."
"Nothing
happens
to you? Are you kidding me? You're young, sexy, and beautiful, and now, you're rich too. You just
went out with one of the premier bachelors in the world, and I'm ready to hear salacious details—the juicier the better."
"It wasn't all that great," Faith claimed.
"Liar. I can see in your eyes that you're on fire for him. What's the problem? You chickened out?"
"Yes." Faith sighed and pulled up a chair, her elbows on the table. "I'm such a wuss."
"I know, honey," Grace commiserated.
"We were in the car, and I was sitting on his
lap—"
"Oh, this is getting good."
"—and I couldn't go through with it."
"But he wanted to?" Grace asked.
"Definitely."
"When you backed out, what was his reaction?"
"He was very polite. He's expecting me to call him today."
"Will you?"
"I don't know," Faith groaned.
She looked miserable, as if she'd had a root canal rather than a date with handsome, macho Lucas Merriweather.
She'd always been too serious and needed to lighten up. Despite how hard Grace had worked to persuade her to expand her horizons, she was too responsible, too dependable.
Grace had encouraged her dinner with Lucas merely to discover what might happen. Faith could use a little excitement, and Lucas was the exact type to give it to her. Luckily, he was his father's son in nearly every way, so he was terribly spoiled.
The more Faith pushed him away, the more adamant his seduction would become. She didn't have the fortitude to keep him at bay. She was too
nice
.
Lucas would wear her down, and once she relented, they'd both be happier for it. The trick was to convince her it was okay to have sex with him. She always overanalyzed every detail.
The doorbell rang, and they frowned, wondering who it could be.
Faith walked to the living room to find out. When she returned a few minutes later, she was holding a huge bouquet
of pink roses and a small, gift-wrapped box.
"Who are they from?" Grace asked. "Do we need to guess, or do we already know?"
"We already know. What is he thinking?"
"He's simply advising you that he enjoyed himself last night."
"Well, so did I, but not enough that I'd send him presents first thing in the morning."
"He's a man; he's wired differently than you."
Faith passed the flowers to Grace, then pulled the card from the envelope.
"'Wear these for me'," Faith read, "'the next time we go out'. It's signed just with the letter
L
."
"Open the box." Grace nodded to it.
Faith tore at the paper and lifted the lid to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. There was a diamond stud, then a short gold chain with a cluster of tinier diamonds at the bottom. They were chic and versatile and could be worn with a formal dinner dress or with jeans at a party.
"Very nice," Grace said.
"Diamond earrings?" Faith scowled. "He can't give me diamond earrings!"
"Why not?"