One Thing I Know

by Kara Isaac

  Lacey looked up. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just a little protective, I guess.”

  Lucas sighed. “You don’t have to worry about me doing anything that might compromise the tour. I’m not that kind of guy.”

  “It’s not the tour I’m worried about. Trust me. Donna and I did extensive research before we put all of this in motion. We probably know more about you than you would ever want us to.”

  “Well then, you know I lead an exceptionally boring life.”

  “Surprisingly so.” She checked the watch on her wrist, then the piece of paper in front of her. “Now, in about fifteen minutes you and Donna are going to need to say a few words. Welcome people, encourage them to be generous—”

  Lucas’s attention was pulled away from whatever Lacey said next by a flash of a red cocktail dress through the crowd. His gaze moved straight to the woman’s profile. Rachel.

  He turned back to see Lacey appraising him with a knowing smile. “Go on. Go talk to her.” She nodded in Rachel’s direction as she handed him a piece of paper.

  Lucas glanced to where Seonie was watching him. “I doubt my handler is going to let me.”

  Lacey cast a septic look in the woman’s direction and clearly saw what he saw. “Fine.” She said the words through gritted teeth. “I will go and talk to her, but you owe me.”

  • • •

  “I THOUGHT you didn’t do schmoozing parties.”

  Rachel’s hand stalled on its path to picking up her glass. She’d know that husky voice anywhere. “Donna made me come and then stole my room key.”

  A chuckle. “She’s a determined woman, your boss.”

  Her hand found her glass, which she lifted from the bar before she tilted and glanced up her right side.

  Crooked grin, eyes the color of an easy summer’s day. In a tux. Her breath hitched. No, Rachel, don’t even go there. It’s not possible.

  “Lucas Grant.” She added a drawl for good measure. “Look at you all scrubbed up in LA.”

  He tugged at his bow tie. “I could say the same to you.” He signaled the bartender. “Orange juice, please.”

  Orange juice? Maybe Lacey was right about him being a teetotaler. Rachel raised an eyebrow as it landed in front of him.

  He shrugged, broad shoulders causing the fabric of his black jacket to ripple. “Not much of a drinker.”

  “Good.” It slipped out before she could stop it.

  “Sorry?” His brow furrowed.

  “Nothing. So what are you doing—oomph.” A hard shove from her left saw Rachel flung into Lucas’s chest.

  His very broad, nice-smelling chest. Like a mix of cloves and—Stop it, Rachel. His hands on her waist weren’t helping matters at all.

  “Dude, show some respect.” Lucas glared at the large guy on Rachel’s other side, who swayed and muttered something indecipherable under his inebriated breath.

  “Come on.” Grabbing her wine with one hand and her wrist with the other, he cut a decisive path through the crowd. Her fingers wrapped around his, warmth running up her arm.

  When he reached the edge of the crowd, he tugged her into the gap he’d created between himself and one of the many pillars encircling the ballroom. Handing back her wine, he tugged his cuffs so they poked out under his jacket. He caught her gaze and tossed her a grin, and her breath hitched. Lucas Grant scrubbed up more than mighty fine.

  “Oh, your juice.”

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t that good.”

  She tapped her glass. “You know they probably just charged us ten bucks for it.”

  His jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”

  “High-society prices.”

  He shook his head. “You realize now I’m going to have to go back and find it. Otherwise I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.”

  “Must be nice to live a life where the only thing on your conscience is wasting overpriced juice.” Good grief, she was flirting with him. Stop it.

  His body seemed to stiffen for a second, followed by an easy smile. “Sounds like something far more interesting is on your conscience, Miss Somers.” He propped an arm against the plaster above her head, creating a shelter for her.

  Anyone else and she would have felt trapped, but for some reason, with Lucas it felt safe. She had to extract herself. He was the one person she couldn’t afford to feel anything for.

  “I wouldn’t say that.” She leaned back against the cool plaster and gazed up. What was she doing? This was the opposite of extraction. Her head screamed at her to get out, but her heart kept her captured in his eyes. “So what have you been up to today?” She brought her wineglass to her lips, forcing him to shift back to give her space to take a sip.

  Again, something she couldn’t decipher danced across his eyes. “Um, I guess you could say I’m exploring some career options.”

  Ahhh, that explained it. “I understand. My lips are sealed.”

  He grabbed a water off a tray, then leaned against the column next to her. “Thanks. It just kind of recently came up. You know how fickle these things are—probably won’t come to anything.”

  He was so close that if she leaned forward even slightly, she’d practically be in his arms. Again. She grabbed something on a toothpick off a passing tray. Used it to cover for a step back. “Well, for what it’s worth, they’d be stupid not to have you. I’m sure Donna would be happy to be a reference if it would help.”

  He froze with a kind of stricken look, as if she’d just suggested they rob the charity raffle. “Um, thanks. I’ll let you know. So how’s the tour going?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, you know. Hotels, planes, bookstores, they all start looking the same after a while. You’ll discover that this week.”

  Lucas closed his eyes for a second as if something she’d said had pained him.

  “Are you okay?”

  He looked at the room filled with people in gowns and black tie and more bling than Fifth Avenue. “How did I even get here? I’m just a guy from Wisconsin with a sports show. This,” he tugged at his bow tie again, “isn’t me.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Lucas. You’re more than just some guy with a sports show.”

  Lucas looked around. A couple of yards away, a blonde in a dress with a neckline that practically went down to her waist gave him a smile. He gave her a quick nod, then turned his attention back to Rachel. She felt a childish sense of satisfaction at the blonde’s look of disbelief.

  “Want to help me out with something?” He took out his phone and pulled up the home screen.

  “That depends on what it is.”

  He leaned a little closer as he tapped the screen, his breath brushing her cheek. “The radio station is on me to take some photos of the tour for social media. Want to take one together? We can tag it to Dr. Donna’s page if you like.”

  A photo with Lucas was a bad idea. Especially one of just the two of them. “I’d rather not. I’m a strictly behind-the-scenes person. You should get one with Lacey. Tag it to her PR company.” A photo with an up-and-comer like Lucas would surely only help her chances at the promotion she’d mentioned.

  Lucas looked up, his phone showing a blurry view of both their feet. “You know when a man’s been propositioned twice in the space of a few hours, it’s very disconcerting having someone not even want to be in a photo with him. Should I be taking it personally that you don’t want your Facebook friends seeing us together?”

  Rachel forced a casual shrug. “I’m not on social media, so they wouldn’t see it anyway.”

  His brow crinkled. “What do you mean you’re not on social media?”

  “I mean obviously I have an administration log-on to manage Donna’s pages, but I’m not on it personally.” She tried to keep her voice breezy, like it wasn’t a big deal.

  He looked at her like she’d suddenly started speaking in a different language. “You’re not on Twitter? Or Facebook? Or Instagram?”

  “No.” She didn’t get the appeal. The tho
ught of being virtually connected to people she hadn’t spoken to since high school weirded her out.

  “But how do people find you?”

  “Everyone in my life knows how to find me.” A number that took up less than two hands.

  “But what do you do with all your spare time while the rest of us are looking at cat memes and random videos?”

  “I read books. Watch movies. Bake.”

  He looked at her like he still wasn’t sure if she was serious, but he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “You’re a very unusual woman, Rachel Somers.” But the way he said it made her feel like he thought she was intriguing, not like a weirdo, so she just smiled and shrugged.

  He knocked back his water. “Okay, next matter. You booked me business-class tickets.”

  And? “I did. And fair warning: all the rest of your flights will be business class too. I told you we have a generous budget.”

  “Honestly, I’m fine in coach. They’re my people. Can’t you just book me on the cheap tickets and make a generous donation to the kids?” His breath wafted up across Rachel’s cheeks and her toes curled in her too-tight shoes. “That way everyone wins.”

  Who was this guy who was practically begging to fly with his knees up to his eyeballs? She was pretty sure she was the only assistant in the history of the world ever to be asked to downgrade someone’s flight class.

  Rachel shook her head. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s not quite that easy. Besides, Donna will have my head if she finds out you’re flying in the back.”

  “Fine.” Lucas’s mouth tipped up. “Guess I’ll just have to find someone worthy to swap seats with. That will be fun.”

  “Go for it.” He’d never do it. Not now that he’d had a taste of flying up the front. “Do you want this?” She held out the bacon-wrapped-something canapé she’d grabbed.

  “Sure.” Lucas grabbed it and popped it in his mouth, barely bothering to chew. “So what else do you do when you’re not being the world’s best assistant? Are you auditioning for Britain’s Hottest Home Baker or something? Is that what you do while I’m blocking Twitter trolls?” He looked only at her, like he had all the time in the world.

  Either her radar was totally broken or he was flirting with her. The thought flooded her with both delight and dread. Might as well play along. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I spend hours in my kitchen perfecting my Italian meringue.”

  “Your family in Denver as well?”

  Now it was her turn to freeze, mind scrambling for an answer that wasn’t either a lie or enough of the truth to ruin the moment. “Colorado Springs.”

  His gaze drifted above her head and narrowed. “Oh blast, Lacey’s giving me the eye. Apparently I’m supposed to say a few words. Help charm the cash out of this crowd. I have to go.” He reached into his pocket, then slipped something into her palm.

  She looked down at it. His phone. “Wha—”

  “Shhhhh.” A finger landed on her lips. Lingering. Then his lips brushed her hair, a tantalizing whisper almost taking her out at the knees. “My password is Woofy7. Capital W. There’s tons of games. Don’t tell Donna.”

  A laugh burst from her lips. “Woofy?”

  He made as if to take back the phone. “Fine. Mock my password and no games for you, Miss Somers.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She held up her hands in surrender.

  “Sure you are.” He cast a grin over his shoulder that had her wishing she’d said yes to that photo after all.

  - 18 -

  The hotel bed was so large Lucas could spread out across it and only just reach all four corners. Mmmm. Bliss. Except for one thing.

  When he’d first walked in and seen the perfectly made bed with no pillows, he thought it had been a housekeeping error. Then he’d discovered the pillow menu, propped up against the naked headboard. What genius had come up with that great idea? The pages of choices had done his head in. Soft, super soft, firm, orthopedic, down, feather in a hundred combinations. What ever happened to just giving a guest an ordinary rectangle of synthetic fibers to lay his head on?

  So, taking the route of passive resistance, he’d chosen the only option not listed: none. He punched the small, pathetic cushion he’d taken off the armchair under his neck, trying to give it some oomph.

  This morning his neck muscles hurled abuse at him, bunched up tight and angry. Looked like tonight he was going to have to man up and take on the pages of pillows.

  He flopped onto his back and stretched his arms up, locking them above his shoulders and pushing against the headboard. The day stretched out in front of him. There was nowhere he had to be until some media thing with Donna in the afternoon. Maybe a run, a luxurious breakfast in the hotel restaurant, coffee with Brad. The man had arrived at the gala late and stayed for maybe twenty minutes. Their only interaction had been Brad telling him he’d give him a call in the morning to schedule coffee. Lucas rolled over, scanning the bedside table. Where had he put his phone last night when he’d come in?

  Not there. Or on the table on the other side. He flipped up, feet over the side of the bed, sending the sheets falling to the floor.

  He pulled his suit jacket off the back of the chair and checked the pockets. Empty except for a piece of folded paper. He flipped it open. A phone number. With an S and a heart at the bottom. So that’s what Sloany, or whatever her name was, had been up to, suckered to his side, as he was trying to make his escape. Crumpling it, he pitched the unwanted advance into the bin.

  For all her surgically enhanced assets, she had nothing on Rachel.

  Rachel. Phone.

  He hadn’t remembered to get it off her before he’d left. Hmmm. He was going to have to find her so he could claim it back. A smile quirked. What a shame.

  Grabbing a gray T-shirt from his duffel bag, he slipped it over his head. He’d shower after breakfast. He should probably go grab the phone after that, before he met Brad. Brad. He froze, T-shirt halfway down his torso. Oh no. Brad had said he would call with the details. He had to get it off Rachel before he called.

  Yanking the T-shirt the rest of the way down, he shoved his legs into his jeans, jamming his favorite pair of Tigers on his feet.

  Shoving his wallet and key card into his pocket, he grabbed his sunglasses off the desk and strode to the door, flinging it open.

  Whoa! He pitched back, almost tripping over his own feet.

  “So.” Brad stood in the doorway, a huge grin on his face. “Who was the lucky lady? Do I get to meet her?” His eyes scanned the room behind Lucas, as if expecting some damsel would be standing there, clad only in a sheet or something equally compromising.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The girl who answered your phone this morning. Said you weren’t available. I bet you weren’t.” He gave a wink that alluded to far more R-rated content than Lucas had any interest in contemplating.

  “Sorry, Brad, not that interesting. Just a friend I lent my phone to last night.”

  Brad’s eyes slid over to the closed bathroom door.

  Seriously? “You want to come in and do a search?” Lucas opened the door wide.

  Brad clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m just surprised is all. An eligible bachelor such as yourself. It’s not right you having to spend a night by yourself. Especially not in LA. I’m surprised our ladies weren’t more hospitable.”

  If they’d been much more hospitable he would’ve had to press charges. “Not really my thing, Brad.”

  “Oh.” Brad’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t play for the other team, do you?”

  Had he really just asked that?

  “Not that it’s a problem if you do,” Brad added quickly. “I just hadn’t realized.”

  Lucas’s teeth clenched, his fist itched. “No, Brad. Just because I don’t have one-night stands doesn’t mean I’m gay. It just means my mom raised me better.”

  Brad chortled, then dropped an expletive. “I didn’t realize they still made guys like you.
Are you a virgin, too? Waiting for that right special lady?” He waggled his eyebrows.

  What was he doing? Was he seriously thinking about going to work for a guy who made him want to take a shower after just a couple of minutes in his presence? Remember the dream, Grant. And the money to give Joey a sibling.

  “Sorry, bad joke.” Brad held up his hands, clearly registering that he might have just crossed a bridge too far. “Let’s go get some breakfast and talk about what you’ve got on Donna.”

  Thirty minutes later they sat under an umbrella in the courtyard. Even before eight the sun was inviting, the air warm. Crazy.

  Lucas tilted his head back and let the rays soak in. Now this, he could get used to. Taking a long slurp of his orange juice, he tried to ignore Brad for a second. Which was difficult, because he seemed to be unable to control himself from commenting on every female within a forty-foot radius.

  “So Lucas, what have you got for me?” Brad stabbed a piece of toast into the yolk of a sunny-side-up egg.

  Lucas chewed on his piece of bacon for a moment, buying time. How could he tell Brad that after almost a month he had found nothing that cast doubt on Donna’s story? Not only that, but he was pretty sure this was just a wild goose chase. Unless Brad knew more than he was telling him as some kind of test.

  “Honestly Brad, don’t you think that if there was something big there, someone would have discovered it by now?” He shoveled in a big piece of toast to buy himself some more time, in case Brad’s answer was short.

  “Look at the moon landing.” Brad waved his fork around. “It’s been like fifty years and people still believe that happened.”

  Lucas almost choked on his mouthful of carbs. A conspiracy nut. The guy just got better and better.

  “She’s just too good, too wholesome. It just doesn’t feel right.”

  Maybe not when your proclivities had you living in the gutter. “Look, I’m doing my best, okay, but I have to tell you, from what I’ve seen so far, I really don’t think there are any skeletons to be found.” The only thing that had seemed odd was the twenty-year gap between Donna getting her undergrad psychology degree and starting the blog that got her noticed. But that was no doubt explained by the time she wasted on the loser who eventually abandoned her and their kids.