Riches to Rags Bride (12 page)

“Lucas, you can't save everyone.”

“I'm not trying to save them, just give them some happiness.”

But she knew he lied. He would save them if he could.

“Genevieve…”

“Yes?”

“The call from Mindy made me think…perhaps we need to do more with security.”

“We have an excellent alarm system that connects directly with the police station. This is a very quiet and historically safe neighborhood. The windows and doors have the best locks possible, the outside lighting is superb. What did you want to add?”

“Lessons.”

She looked into his eyes. “I'm sorry. I don't understand.”

“Self-defense lessons.”

“That's so…fantastic! Why didn't I think of that?”

“I like to think that it's because you feel safe here.”

“I do. But I can certainly understand why someone who has led a harsher life than I have might never feel safe. Anywhere.” She immediately wished she hadn't said that. She wondered if Lucas was thinking of Angie.

He looked to the side. Now she
knew
he was thinking of Louisa, but when he turned to her, he surprised her. “Learning how to defend oneself can be a real confidence builder. It can make a person feel as if they can handle any situation.”

“Then it's definitely something we should have here,” she said softly.

“It's something any woman—or any man, for that matter—might need to know, don't you think?” he asked. And the way he gazed into her eyes told her that they had moved beyond Mindy.

“Every person should know how to defend them
selves,” she agreed. “Do you have any suggestions for instructors?” She reached for the pad of paper.

“For the school, yes.” He scribbled down a number. “For you? I'll teach you.”

He had moved closer to write the phone number down. Now they stood within inches of each other. “Why?” she asked. “Because—from the comment you made—I assume you think that I lack confidence?”

“You have confidence. You could use more.” He glanced down at the paperweight she had denigrated. “Besides, hate me for saying this if you must, but I'll worry less when I'm gone. I'll feel better leaving you if I know that you can take down the bad guys whenever you need to. Every independent woman should have a grab bag of techniques for dealing with those who want to steal her freedom from her.”

“Why you?” She glanced down at the phone number.

“Because I want to. Because I owe you.”

She frowned. “No. I work for you. You pay me.”

“Not enough. That party the other night, your parents' display, the way you worked that room, all that you've done here, has been above and beyond what any other employee would have done.”

“Maybe it's just because I'm inexperienced.”

“Maybe it's just because you're good. Because you're you.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you feel…uncomfortable taking lessons from me?”

Oh, yeah. Because there was going to be touching. She was going to have to watch herself and not let her emotions get involved, not let him see how very much he affected her. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

He smiled, that gorgeous, achingly wonderful, suddenly boyish smile. How seldom he must have smiled as a boy. How grateful she was for the chance to see him smile now. And why was he smiling?

Because he likes to be in control and knowing that all the chess pieces are where he wants them to be makes him feel in control. If you're safe, that's one less piece he has to worry about.

“So we're good?” he asked.

“Almost. There's just one thing more.” One more thing that would make him smile.

“Just tell me.” He waited.

“About Barry…”

He glowered. “Has he called here? Or come by?”

“Lucas, no. Do you think I wouldn't have mentioned that?” Would she have mentioned it knowing how Lucas felt about men who took advantage of others? “I just meant…I've learned a lot working here and one of the things I've learned is that part of the reason Barry was able to take advantage of my situation was because I didn't feel comfortable managing my own money, so I let him handle things. I don't want to ever end up in that position, so I was wondering…before you leave, could you give me a few financial pointers? Things every responsible adult should know. I would like to feel in control of my finances. That is, if you wouldn't mind. I know you've got a lot to do before you go.”

Okay, there was that smile she craved. “You shouldn't have even had to ask. Of course, you'll be a priority, Genevieve. I want you to walk out of here feeling secure in every way.”

So did she. That way she'd be able to survive totally on her own and he'd find it easier to walk away without ever looking back. With no regrets.

Genevieve felt as if her throat was closing up. She felt close to tears. Her time with Lucas was winding down and soon he'd simply be a former employer, a man she knew for a few weeks.

No, he would always be much more than that, but she could never let him know that. If he knew that she was falling in love with him—and she was—he would regret having met her. He would hate himself for breaking her heart.

“Should we start tomorrow? That gives us a full two weeks.”

“It will have to be enough time,” he said. But she knew that two weeks with Lucas wasn't nearly enough time.

T
HEY HAD BARELY GOTTEN STARTED
, Lucas thought the next day, and already these defense lessons were a strain. It brought him into close physical contact with Genevieve, and that was risky.

I should have hired a woman to teach her,
he thought.

But he wanted to do it himself. Because he knew not only the right way to fight, but also the dirty way. He intended to show her all that he knew. When their time was up, she could walk away confident that she would be the one with the edge in an attack situation.

“Come at me as if you're going to flatten me,” he ordered during this afternoon's training session. “Make me believe you're really capable of disarming me and taking me out of commission.”

She did as he asked. She ran at him, but without any fire. “Genevieve, you know this is important.”

“I do know. I
want
to do it. I need to know this stuff, but…what if the unthinkable happens and I actually hurt you in some way?”

“Gen, you're much smaller than me. You're a princess. I'm the big evil black knight. You're
not
going to hurt me.”

“I see. I'm the weak one.”

“You know that's not what I meant. I was talking about experience and intent. You're too nice.”

“I can be mean.” She bared her teeth. And had him laughing.

“Gen, you're supposed to take me down with your skill, not make me collapse because I'm laughing so hard.”

“I just feel so uncomfortable trying to hit someone I…I like.”

That word—
like
—nearly brought him to his knees. He didn't want her to like him.

“Oh, look at that frown. Now I've really made you mad. Here you are trying to help me and I'm giving you a half-baked effort.”

“No, you're fine, Genevieve. Really.” And her liking him was good. It was smart. Better than love, which was so…wrong. He couldn't selfishly want her to love him. She'd just discovered her independence, and she reveled in it. She wanted to be alone. How could he even consider robbing her of that?

“Maybe mean isn't a good goal for you,” he conceded. “Try for confident. That's good enough. If you look like you're confident, that's half the battle of keeping the bad guys at bay.”

“Confident. Hmm…”

“Like when Mr. Healey accused you of cheating him and you showed him slides and videos.”

She wrinkled her nose, but she instantly demonstrated confidence.

He laughed. “Great. Now stop thinking of me as Mr. Healey and pretend I'm a bad guy who could hurt you.”

She didn't look suitably upset. A little fear was good going into a fight. It produced the necessary adrenaline. “I
have
hurt people,” he said. “More than you know.”

He was hoping to shock her with news he didn't usually share, and he apparently had. But she still didn't look angry or afraid. “I know that had to have been a terrible time in your life,” she said, her voice radiating sadness and concern.

And suddenly the tables had been turned. He was losing his focus.
Focus,
he ordered himself. Gen needed to know how to do these things.

“Okay, let me show you something,” he said and he showed her a move designed to trip him up and give her the upper hand. “Now, charge me.”

She charged, without much spirit but with more than the first time. When she planted her palms on his body, her momentum carried her forward still more. Her chest met his and they slowly tumbled backward in a rolling motion that landed them both on the ground, limbs tangled. Lucas was in a half-sitting position with Genevieve's knee within kissing distance of his mouth.

“Good try,” he said.

Some muffled laughter sounded from somewhere beneath his elbow. “You have got to be kidding me,” Genevieve said. “That didn't even rate.”

“You made the attempt.”

“You can't mean to tell me that this was how it was supposed to work out.”

“No, I can't. This isn't the best way to take down a man.” Although he was both down and a man.

“I hope I can get this right,” she said, her voice turning a bit forlorn. By now she had disentangled herself, he was flat on his back and she was kneeling above him, her palm resting on his chest. “I was never particularly skilled at the physical arts.”

Oh, how he wished she had not said that. It made him think of Gen in a bed with a breeze blowing in and moonlight on her body, his lips on her…softness. Everywhere.

Stop,
he ordered himself. “I'm positive that you'll do just fine.” Somehow he managed to rasp out the words. “You just need a little practice.” And then, because she was so close and he was so very tempted, he reached up and drew her down to him, nuzzling her mouth.

A low, sweet moan escaped her. She leaned closer, plunged her fingers into his hair and returned his kiss. She was soft, warm, her body pressed to his. She kissed him again and again.

Desire speared through him. He wanted to fight it. He knew that someone like Gen didn't do this kind of thing every day. Maybe never. And he didn't want her to think he was taking advantage of the situation. Especially since he was the one who had suggested the lessons.

“Gen?”

“Mmm?”

“You should—” He groaned. “You should try to knock me down again. I'm afraid I'm not the best teacher in the world.”

She froze. She looked down at him. “You're a great teacher, but…I think we'd better try again tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes.” Maybe by tomorrow, he would be more in control.

“I'll study. I'll try harder.”

“I won't kiss you next time,” he said. “Just in case you're worried that I might take advantage of the situation.”

She gave him a slow, sad smile. “Lucas, I'm sure you must know that I like kissing you.” And as if to demonstrate, she brushed her sweet, berry lips against his. Right then. Right there. “I just don't want to like it.”

It was a most unusual ending to a lesson, he thought later as he tried to think of ways to improve his presentation. What should he have done better?

Kissed her more.
It was the wrong answer. And he was probably the wrong teacher for her. But he was determined to somehow end this right. If he gave her any reason to regret having known him, he'd have nightmares for life. And no amount of Angie's Houses could cure that.

 

Genevieve was on her fourth interview and it was proving to be an emotional experience. She was glad that Lucas was letting her handle this part of the project, because she wasn't sure he could stand the parade of sad women who passed through the doors, or the fact that when she told them who was responsible for their good fortune, they wanted to kiss Lucas's feet.

And they hadn't even met him!

He would have felt uncomfortable with all that gratitude, undeserving. Worse, he would have been saddened by the fact that she couldn't even interview all the can
didates yet. There simply wasn't room at Angie's House. At least not yet. Or at least not this one.

And unless this one was a success there might not be another one. Now that she was at this stage, she realized how perfect everything had to be.

She was thinking about that when she passed Lucas on the stairs, her arm brushing his.

As if it had been rehearsed, they both looked up, gray eyes staring into green. He slid his palm around her waist; she slipped an arm around his neck. They shared one hot, hot kiss. One very fast kiss. Then they moved on.

“I'll see you in the gym,” he said.

“Three o'clock,” she agreed. Her body began to ache just thinking about it. Not that anything was happening. Since that first day, they had stuck to the plan. He instructed and demonstrated. She attacked and carried out his instructions. They barely even spoke beyond his commands.

She was getting good. But the lessons were total torture. She knew he felt the same. Neither of them wanted to end up in an embrace that threatened to get out of hand again.

So, even though they kissed at times like this, the encounter was always brief, often in a public place so that they had to end things soon. Sometimes, like on the stairs, they had to pay attention or lose their balance.

She couldn't wait for the two weeks and the torture to end. She couldn't bear to think of it ending. Their fate had been preordained, back when Lucas was a boy. Back when she was growing up. Who they had once been, who they were now, their limitations, their futures had all been set by unpleasant circumstances and now they
were two planets whose paths had, temporarily, crossed but would soon move on their separate ways.

The smart thing to do would be to simply ride out the next two weeks, do her job, have a very simple open house for the sponsors and the public and then say goodbye. Very dignified. Nothing messy or risky. That was the smart thing. The reality was something different.

One morning she gathered her new recruits, the soon to be new residents of Angie's House. She picked up Della, the woman she'd hired to be the director. “Ladies, we have a challenge,” she said. “In less than a week, Angie's House will open its doors and let the world inside for one day only. You don't have to attend if you don't want to. This will be your home, but we don't want you to ever feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed. So, it will be your choice. There will be members of the press, some local dignitaries, some sponsors, some neighbors, myself, Lucas and any of you who want to be there. So, give it some thought.”

That had been her only intent, to give fair warning and offer them a choice.

Then things changed.

“If this is our home, and this is a party, can we help plan it?” one woman asked.

“Yes, can we do that? That would be so fantastic! I've never lived in a place where I had the room or the money to even have a party,” another woman said.

“And you said Lucas would be there? He's so handsome. I've seen him,” the first woman volunteered.

“We'll get to mingle with him. Won't we?”

Suddenly all nine faces were turned toward Genevieve. “You can talk to him as much as you like,” she said.

The women exchanged looks. Then one of them
turned back to Genevieve. “You know, Lucas and you…I feel as if you're saving my life. Seriously. Saving it. If I'd had to stay where I am, I'm not sure I would have made it through another year.”

“You're saving my sanity,” another woman said. “Lucas and you. I wish I had the words to tell him that, but I'm not real good with words. I'm not sure I could even tell him what I'm telling you now if I had to say it to his face. Do you think…could
you
tell him how much this means to me?”

“I'll tell him,” Genevieve said, her voice so thick with tears that it nearly came out in a whisper. Lucas had spent his life so alone, always feeling that he was damaging some woman. Had any woman ever said words like this to him? “I'll tell him,” she repeated. “And maybe also…”

The women leaned forward in their seats.

“I have an idea,” Genevieve said. And that was when things got really messy and crazy and veered away from her idea of the tasteful open house that she had promised Lucas.

 

Genevieve sat in her office, staring at her desk. A little glass castle paperweight sat there, the successor to the broken one. Only this one was from a store. It was very delicate, very pretty, rather expensive.

She hated it.

“Stop that,” she told herself. “You don't hate it. You just…”

Hate everything right now.
Which was totally unlike her. And totally because she didn't want to leave Lucas. Today was going to be her last self-defense lesson. She'd read all the financial information Lucas had given her.
Right now she was a lean, mean self-defense machine and she could do her taxes or manage her retirement fund with her eyes closed. Someday she was going to be really happy for those things. But today?

“I miss him already.” She was doing her best not to send him longing looks or get teary-eyed in his presence or indulge in too many kisses. In fact, they hadn't touched outside of class since that incident on the stairs.

Lucas was apparently pulling away, backing off, doing what he always did with women.

Like Rita.

For a moment, Genevieve felt a trickle of sympathy for the woman, even though Rita had called her several times in the past week or two to remind her that once Lucas was gone and she no longer had a job at Angie's House, she was not to think of taking up a job selling art the way she had at that party. She wasn't to poach on Rita's territory.

Lucas had been amused. “She must really think you're good if she's going to this much trouble to make sure you don't compete with her.”

“Maybe she just wants to talk to you but she doesn't want to say so. You know, the way girls do.”

“Not really.”

She turned to look at him. And realized he was being truthful. He'd missed out on all the silly things young girls do to get the attention of guys, because at that time he'd been fighting just to stay alive.

“It's just a dumb thing. You call a man and if he answers, you pretend you were calling to talk to someone else at the house, but in reality you try to keep him on the line talking to you.”

He looked flabbergasted. “So…you did that?”

She blushed and ducked her head, her hair swinging forward. “I didn't have a lot of time for girl stuff, but Rita probably did. She probably called just to talk to you.”

“Maybe, but when I spoke with her, she mostly wanted to talk about you. She wanted to know if you were making any more glasswork.”

“Why?”

He smiled. “Because it's pretty and it's very you. Unique.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Think about it.”

She thought about it now. And dismissed it. She wasn't interested in talking to Rita. Rita would just say things about Lucas that she already knew. Tough stuff. Painful stuff.