"I hardly know him."
"So?"
"I don't want such an extravagant gift."
"Is he supposed to be a mind reader?"
"Yes. I'm just…me, and he's Lucas Merriweather. Where would I wear diamonds?"
"Wherever you want."
"The man is insane," Faith huffed, "and I'm sending them back."
"You are not."
Grace took them out of the box and went to the mirror on the fridge. She held one by her ear and checked out how it looked.
"If you don't want them," Grace said, "I'll keep them."
"Keep what?"
Grace turned as Angela staggered in. She'd stayed over,
having been too drunk to drive the previous evening. Her hair was a mess, her eyes red-rimmed. She lurched to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup.
"Lucas Merriweather," Grace explained, "gave Faith a pair of diamond earrings."
"Get out of town!"
"Seriously." Grace dangled them for Angela to see.
"That is so unfair," Angela grouched. "Why don't you want them, Faith?"
"I want them," Faith insisted. "I just don't want them to be from him."
"If you're not interested in him, Faith," Angela replied, "I'll take him."
"I'm fine, thank you very much."
Angela trudged out, and Grace watched her go. She thought of both girls as her daughters, but she'd never understood either one. She'd often pondered the old argument about nature versus nurture. They were so different, and biology had to be the determining factor in their personalities. She'd certainly like to meet their mothers!
As Angela's footsteps faded, Faith plopped down in her chair again. She appeared dazed and bewildered.
"What's wrong, honey?" Grace asked. "Don't you like him?"
"I like him very much. Too much, probably."
"Then why worry so much? You fuss over everything; you always have. For once, throw caution to the wind."
"I'm afraid, Gracie."
"Of what?"
"Of getting my heart broken."
"With him, it will be a one-night stand. There won't be time for your heart to be involved."
"You don't know what he's like. It wouldn't be for only one night."
"So much the better. Live a little. Have a fling. What's stopping you?"
"It's not that easy."
"Why isn't it? He's generous with his lovers. Maybe you'd score a trip to Rio or Maui out of the deal. You've never been
anywhere. Maybe he'd take you. Imagine how much fun you'd have."
Faith shook her head. "I'm not like you, Gracie. I couldn't sleep with him a few times and call myself lucky."
"Why couldn't you?"
"I might begin to like him more than I should. Then it would be over, and I'd be all alone."
It was Faith's constant lament: she'd be alone. Did she recollect being a tiny baby, being left at that fire station? The poignant event had to be buried somewhere deep in her psyche, because it frequently haunted her.
"Everybody's alone in the end," Grace murmured. "You'd get through it, and you'd have a great memory of him after it was over."
"I don't want a
memory
. I want a flesh and blood man."
"They don't come any more 'flesh and blood' than him. Go after him! Let him use and pamper you for as long as you can persuade him to have you."
"I'm disgusted to admit that I'd like that very much. I must be the gold digger he accuses me of being."
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with reaching out and taking what you want."
"Spoken like a true mercenary."
"I never claimed to be a saint," Grace said, "and I never tried to be. It was always more enjoyable to be a bit naughty."
Faith stood and went over to the window. For an eternity, she stared into the backyard, her gaze on the mountains off in the distance.
Finally, she glanced over her shoulder. "If I jumped into this with him, would you think less of me?"
"I'd think less of you if you didn't."
"I want this, Gracie."
"Good for you."
"He just makes me feel so…so…" She threw up her hands, unable to explain. "I can't describe it."
"Which tells me it will be wonderful." Grace tamped down a sly grin. "You remember how carefully Harold kept tabs on Lucas."
"He was obsessed about it."
"He thought you and Lucas had a lot in common, that you might get along."
"Harold said that?"
"He'd be happy to know you were with Lucas—even if it was for a short affair."
Grace was playing dirty. Faith had loved Harold very much. He'd been the grandfather she'd never had. He'd taken them in during a rough period when they'd had nowhere to go, and they'd never had to leave. He'd given her Peanut and Bryce to watch over forever. If
Harold
decided that a certain path was appropriate for Faith, she'd decide it was too.
In fact, Harold had always had designs on Faith and Lucas. He felt that much was possible between the two youngsters—if he could figure out how to bring them together. Faith's inheritance had been calculated to lure Lucas into her orbit, with Harold being positive that once Lucas met Faith, he'd be intrigued.
Lucas had grown up with a vicious father and cruel mother. His childhood had been as lonely as Faith's but for different reasons. In many ways, he'd been as much of an orphan as she was.
Faith could give him the home and family he'd never had, could provide things he didn't realize he needed.
"Should I call him?" Faith asked.
"Absolutely."
"What would I say?"
"Thank him for the earrings and flowers, then suggest another date. Dinner or something."
"What if I went away with him for a few days? Would you mind?"
"Sneak off for a year if you want. If you can keep him in bed that long, have at it."
Faith frowned. "I don't know if he'll agree."
Grace's gaze started at the top of Faith's head and wandered down, taking in the pretty face, the curvaceous body.
"He'll agree, Faith. Don't you worry."
Faith smiled. "You always make everything seem so easy."
"And you always make everything too hard. Getting Lucas Merriweather into the sack will be a piece of cake."
"I hope you're right."
"Trust me on this one: you invite him away for the weekend, and he'll go. You won't have to convince him."
"I'm sure he'll be putty in my hands."
"Yes, he will be. The poor guy doesn't stand a chance."
Faith chuckled and walked out.
Grace sat, contemplating the strangeness of life—Harold, the Merriweather family, Lucas and where his relationship with Faith might lead them.
Shortly, Angela stumbled back in. She poured another cup of coffee, then she grabbed Faith's earrings and stood in front of the mirror on the fridge as Grace had a bit earlier.
She took off the clasps and stuck the posts in her ears, and she tipped from side to side, watching the swing of the diamond clusters against her neck.
"Do they look good on me?" she asked Grace.
"Fabulous," Grace lied. Angela had no class, and the most expensive diamonds couldn't give her any.
"I wish I had a man who'd shower me with stuff like this."
"You gotta find somebody rich. That's the tricky part."
"Faith found Harold." Angela's eyes narrowed. "And now she found Harold's grandson. It's not fair."
She removed the earrings and set them on the counter, then she strolled out. As she reached the stairs, Grace heard her mutter again, "It's just so not fair."
CHAPTER FIVE
"Why aren't you wearing the diamonds I gave you?"
"I'm uncomfortable accepting them."
Lucas leaned across the table and took Faith's hand. They were in a small, quaint restaurant up in the mountains. It was located on the ground floor of an old mansion, the upper rooms converted into a bed and breakfast.
He'd never been to the place before. Faith had suggested the spot and handled the reservation, and his head was still spinning, trying to unravel her ploy.
The meal had been delicious, the company charming. He was liking her more and more, which scared the hell out of him. Something was happening between them, and he was terrified over where it might lead.
If he wasn't spending time with her in order to coerce her into providing information about her treatment of Harold, what was he doing?
She was particularly beautiful, in another great dress, this one a silvery white, cut low in front, the hem at mid-thigh. She'd accented it with black jewelry, a clunky necklace, bangles, and an ankle bracelet that highlighted her sexy legs.
But it wasn't the jewelry he'd bought her, and he was irked by the slight.
"I was going to give them back," she absurdly claimed.
"Why didn't you?"
"Gracie wouldn't let me. She said you can afford diamonds, and I should keep them."
"She's right. I can afford diamonds."
"That's not the point."
"What
is
the point?"
"I don't like you plying me with expensive gifts."
"Maybe I'd like to see the earrings brushing your neck. Maybe it would have made me happy."
"Poor baby. You didn't get what you wanted."
"No, I didn't, and it galls me."
She laughed, her voice rolling over him in a soothing way that rattled his senses and heightened his concern. He was attracted to her on so many levels, and he didn't understand why.
He had a
type
of woman he liked, a type he chased after, and she wasn't it. So why was he fascinated?
She was the first female of his acquaintance to whom he'd given a gift, but who hadn't been thrilled by the gesture. Was she insane? If a woman didn't want diamonds, what did she want? How was a man supposed to figure it out?
"Let me ask you a question," she said.
"Anything."
"Tomorrow is Saturday. Are you busy?"
"No, why?"
"I've been thinking about our last date."
The look she flashed had his blood pounding in his veins.
"And…?"
"I was wondering how you'd feel about staying here tonight."
He frowned. "Here, as in
here
at this bed and breakfast?"
"Yes." She reached into her purse, pulled out a key, and slid it across the table. "Room 6, the private suite on the top floor."
"You made a reservation?"
"We're Mr. and Mrs. Smith."
He—who was never surprised by anything—was incredibly surprised.
"You want to stay with me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I've decided to let you seduce me."
"I thought you needed time to consider."
"Three days seemed to do it."
"You're perfectly clear now?"
"Oh, yes."
He studied her. There was a challenge in her gaze. She was daring him to agree, as if she suspected he was a coward. Silly girl.
He'd never in his life declined what was freely and brazenly offered by a female.
"If we head upstairs," he warned, "we're not coming down till Sunday night."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"Once we start in, you can't shy away like a scared rabbit."
"I won't shy away."
"It will be just you and me and room service. I'll keep you flat on your back for the next forty-eight hours."
"Tough talk, Merriweather," she taunted. "Do you think you're
up
for it?"
"Ooh, you are going to be so sorry."
"I doubt it."
"When I'm finished, you won't be able to walk for a week."
"We'll see. Give it your best shot."
He threw down his napkin and stood, quickly rounding the table to hold her chair. He bent down and whispered, "Get your ass upstairs. Now."
"I hear Room 6 is available."
"It's not available. It's occupied."
He scooped up the key and escorted her out of the restaurant.
* * *
Faith watched as Lucas pushed the door open. He motioned for her to proceed him, and she was glad to enter first.
Her heart was pounding—with excitement but with anxiety too.
She
had asked him to come up into the mountains.
She
had booked the room and ordered the champagne.
She
had propositioned him.
If her courage eventually failed her, she couldn't change her mind. She'd moved them beyond the point where she could call a halt.