LUCIEN: A Standalone Romance

by Glenna Sinclair

  I finally stole the stuffed bear Adrienne had won for her out of her arms and bopping her on the top of the head with it.

  “Let it rest, Rachel. It’s not like this is the only chance you’re ever going to get to ask her questions.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to stick around for a while?” she asked, staring straight at Adrienne.

  “As long as Lucien needs me,” she said, more honest than either Jacob or Rachel would ever know.

  I pulled her into our shared bedroom the moment we were back at the house.

  “I need to call my dad, tell him about that email,” she said the moment we were alone.

  She had her phone in her hand, but then there was a knock on the door and my mom stuck her head inside.

  “Hey. I just wanted to warn you before you got occupied,” she said, shooting a look at Adrienne, making me feel like a teenager who’d just gotten caught with a girl in my room for the first time, “Karl and I are taking everyone out to dinner at Margot’s tonight.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, brushing a kiss across her cheek.

  She looked up at me, one of those worried mom looks flashing through her eyes before she touched my cheek lightly.

  “Jacob said your sugars were low?”

  “I’m fine. I have juice in here.”

  She studied my face a minute longer, then backed away. “Seven o’clock.”

  I watched her go, then eased the door closed, feeling guilty for lying. My blood sugars were fine. Had been fine since last night’s little blip. I turned and caught Adrienne watching me, the same concern dancing in her eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I said, holding up my hands. “Really.”

  She just nodded, but she watched me a second longer. Then she turned her attention to her phone.

  I listened as she spoke softly in a tone that was so different from the one she used with me. She was talking to her father. There was something universal about a child’s voice when they spoke to a parent, whether that child be five or fifty. I knew it was a tone I used when I spoke to my mom, too. But Adrienne’s tone of voice was different. It wasn’t just respectful. There was something more in her voice. A sort of reverence that again made me wonder about her story.

  “Okay,” she said, turning back to me. “I told him about the new email. He said that they’ve been checking into everyone at your office, including that lawyer you said worked with you on the patent application. And they have remote access to your email account, so they can trace this new email, too. But it will likely come back to the same IP address.”

  “Can they trace the account it came from?”

  “It’s a Yahoo account. Anyone can sign up for an account with them.”

  I nodded as I sank down onto the bed. I lay back and threw my arm over my face, suddenly feeling incredibly exhausted. She came over and sat beside me, tucking that flowing summer dress around her legs in an awkward sort of shove and pucker.

  “You don’t wear dresses often, do you?”

  I peeked at her from under my arm. She made a face at me.

  “I’d much rather be in jeans and a t-shirt.”

  “Why aren’t you?”

  “Because it’s not appropriate.”

  “That’s what Rachel’s wearing.”

  “Yeah. I wanted to tear it off of her and trade.”

  I laughed. I could almost see that, this tiny wisp of a woman yanking the clothing from my sister who had, probably, four inches and thirty pounds on her. There was no doubt in my mind that Adrienne would be successful.

  “You were really in the Army?”

  “I was.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until about ten months ago.”

  I rolled onto my side and propped my head up on my hand. “What was that like?”

  She shrugged. “It was the same as it would be for anyone. A lot of hard work. A lot of sitting around waiting. A lot of wondering if I was going to get out of there alive.”

  I laid my hand on her knee. “You are a complicated creature, aren’t you?”

  I don’t think that’s what she expected me to say. Half a dozen emotions rushed through those gorgeous, pale eyes of hers. I was curious to see which one stuck around the longest, but then she looked away.

  “Most guys don’t know what to do with me. They look at me and see that I’m small, so they think they can do whatever they want, say whatever they want. But then they see what I can do, and they either treat me like one of the guys, or they run the other direction, preferring to be with a woman who is more feminine than I am.”

  “I can’t imagine there are many women out there who are more feminine than you.” I leaned close and kissed her knee. “And I can’t treat you like one of the guys. Even if you can beat the shit out of me.”

  “I probably could,” she said. And then she laughed, the sound the sweetest thing I’d heard all day.

  I sat up just long enough to push her down against the pillows, catching her lips as we both fell. Her arms came around my waist, her hands sliding under my shirt the moment she found the bottom edge. And mine seemed to know just where they wanted to be. One rested on her hip, tugging at the impossibly long skirt of that infernal dress, the other loving the feel of her hard nipple against my palm.

  When I first saw her sitting in that bar, I told myself it was a mistake. The whole thing had been Ruben’s idea. Pretend we’d just met. Pretend that she was just a girl I’d met right there in front of my brother, a girl who got so far under my skin that I couldn’t help but invite her to hang out with me at work. It seemed like the perfect solution to the fact that our hiring practices at Callahan Biomedical were so intensive that the patent would have been granted before any of his investigators could pass muster. But when I saw her, I thought, that girl is so not my type. She’s too small, too dark. I like my women tall, a little more on the sturdy side. And blonde. I don’t think I’ve ever dated a woman with dark hair. Some guys have a type, and I’m one of them. But then she smiled at me, and I think I was gone from that moment forward.

  And the taste of her lips…

  “You’re so beautiful,” I said as I pulled back and studied her eyes.

  She touched my jaw, her thumb rubbing against my bottom lip.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  “Do what?”

  “Lie to me.”

  She started to pull her hand away, but I grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand back against my face.

  “I know you don’t know me well, but I don’t make a habit of lying.”

  Again, that parade of emotions that made such a habit of dancing through her eyes appeared. Then she reached up and kissed me again, deeply. It felt like she reached inside of my chest and touched my soul, the way she kissed me. And then she pushed me off of her, catching me off guard. I rolled, and she slipped off the bed.

  “It’s six thirty. We should probably get ready to go.”

  I buried my face in the pillows and screamed. This woman was going to kill me while trying to protect me from the threat that had brought her into my life in the first place.

  Chapter 12

  Adrienne

  I felt like a complete fraud.

  There were heels on my feet. Not three-inch heels like both Rachel and her mother were wearing, but heels. I had never worn heels. I didn’t even know how to walk in heels. Yet, I’d allowed Theresa, my father’s receptionist, to talk me into buying them and Lucien to talk me into wearing them. And now I was clinging to his arm for dear life, because I knew the moment I tried to take a step without his support I would fall flat on my face.

  “You’re doing fine,” he whispered against my ear.

  But I wasn’t.

  Not only were there these shoes to contend with, but the dress I was wearing was surely made as a torture device. The bodice was so tight that I could barely breathe; the belt that came around just under my breasts was like the vice on my father’s workbench back home. And the skirt wa
s so long that I was sure I would trip over it, but it had this split up one side so that one leg just wanted to pop out of no matter how careful I was in my movements.

  Lucien liked it. He said it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen on a woman. But I was pretty sure that was just because I’d left him high and dry.

  Then again, there was the way he looked at me. I had to admit, it felt good. Really good.

  The restaurant where we were having dinner was fancier than anything I’d ever seen before. The lobby was filled with marble and brass and I don’t even know what else. The dining room was huge and clean, the décor simple but clearly expensive. I was almost afraid to sit on the simple chair Lucien pulled out for me. I didn’t belong here, and I was convinced someone was going to figure that out sooner than later.

  “Don’t look so frightened,” Lucien whispered into my ear as he took his seat.

  I glanced at him, tried to smile, but I could feel how flat it fell.

  “I think I’ll have the duck,” Lucien’s mother announced after everyone was seated. “Do you like duck, Adrienne?”

  I looked up, not sure how to respond. She smiled softly, a knowing look in her eyes. I suddenly remembered that she wasn’t from this champagne and strawberries world when she met Karl, either. So, even though I’d never tasted duck a day in my life, I nodded.

  “I do.”

  “Then that’s what we ladies will have, right, Rachel?”

  “You know me too well, Mom.”

  And just like that, the next hurdle was gone before I even had a chance to break a sweat over it.

  Lucien’s family really wasn’t as uptight as I’d been afraid they would be. They were actually quite nice. His father was constantly cracking jokes, and his mom was always slipping little anecdotes about her children into the conversation, embarrassing one or the other of them. They clearly had a lot of affection for their children. And I saw Karl watching Elizabeth when he thought she wasn’t looking, and vice versa. There was a lot of affection there, too.

  I remembered those kinds of looks between my own mom and dad.

  Conversation danced around the table. Whenever someone said something that was an inside joke or just something an insider would automatically follow, Lucien would lean close and whisper an explanation in my ear. He was quite attentive, careful to make sure I felt included. I wanted to tell him it was okay, that I was happy just to observe. But as Jacob and Rachel burst into laughter after teasing Lucien about a time when he made a fool of himself at a restaurant not unlike this one, I was glad to understand the joke and join in on their laughter.

  And duck was actually pretty good.

  I excused myself to go use the ladies’ room as the waiter was setting out the coffee. It was a bit of a chore, walking straight all by myself, but by the time I got to the stall and sat down, I thought I was finally beginning to get the hang of it. My phone began to buzz as I washed my hands. I tugged it out of my little purse, cursing as it got caught on the liner.

  “Hey, Poppy,” I said, propping the narrow phone on my shoulder as I dried my hands.

  “Are you still in Kemah?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Robert’s been working on this email, and he says that it bounces all over the place, including off a computer in Kemah. He thought you might be able to check the house, see if there’s a computer there?”

  “You don’t really still think it’s Jacob, do you?”

  “We can’t really rule anyone out until we have some hard evidence. You know that.”

  “I know, I just…”

  I hesitated because I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make me sound like a fool who’d allowed herself to get in too deep. And if my father knew just how deep I had allowed myself to get on this case, he would pull me out in an instant. That may have been something I’d wanted twenty-four hours ago, but it wasn’t now.

  I stepped out of the bathroom and stood in the hallway, off to one side, so that I wasn’t blocking anyone coming or going from the bathrooms or the kitchen.

  “I’ll take a look when we get back there tonight.”

  “Where are you?”

  “His parents took us out to eat. But we’re just about done.”

  “You’re okay, mija?”

  I smiled at his use of the Spanish term of endearment. My father grew up in a traditional Hispanic household, the only member of his family to go to college and really make something of himself. He talked about it a lot when I was younger, how proud his madre and abuela were of him. And then he married a beautiful Irish woman, cursing me with both the Latin and Irish temperament. But also with two very rich heritages.

  “Si, Papi.”

  “Yes? Really?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry to put you in this position, mija, but this case could be massive for us.”

  “I know.”

  “You can take care of yourself. I know that. But you are still my little girl.”

  I smiled, tears welling in my eyes despite myself. I’d been so mad at him over the last few days. Hearing the concern in his voice now made me feel guilty for being annoyed with him. I knew he would never put me in a position that he didn’t think I could handle. And I told him that now.

  “Just make sure you do take care of yourself.”

  “I will. Bye, Poppy.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to steady myself before heading back out to the dining room. I was just turning the corner when I caught sight of the back of Lucien’s head. He was in the lobby, a woman’s arms in his hands as he carefully pushed her back, out of sight of the dining room.

  “What are you doing here?” I heard him ask.

  “I needed to talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  “Is it like that?” the woman asked, her words slurring together. “We don’t see each other for months, and then you talk to me like that? What am I supposed to think?”

  “You’re supposed to think that Jacob is just a few feet away from us at this moment and it wouldn’t do for him to see you like this.”

  “Jacob. Jacob. Jacob. It’s always about Jacob with you, isn’t it?”

  “He’s my brother, Lynn. What do you think?”

  Lynn? Jacob’s estranged wife?

  I walked over, my shoes making me wobble a time or two. I was pretty sure I was going to break my ankle if I didn’t watch it. But, despite that, I walked up behind Lucien and ran my hand over his arm in a possessive gesture that I made sure his companion could see.

  “Hey, babe,” I said. “Are we ready to go?”

  He glanced at me, a flash of surprise in his eyes even as he turned back to focus on Lynn.

  “Who’s this?” she asked, her green eyes moving quickly over me and then dismissing me with a flick of her hair. “You didn’t mention you were seeing someone, Lucien.”

  She was taller than me (but most people are) with that color of hair that clearly came out of a bottle, despite the amount she probably paid to hide that fact. Her skin was pale, perfectly wrinkle-free, something else that probably wasn’t quite natural. She was wearing a simple shift dress that was a little tight around the waist, and carried a purse that probably cost more than I would make in the next two years. She was not the kind of woman I would have imagined Jacob married to. But, as they say, to each his own.

  “Adrienne, this is Lynn Callahan. Jacob’s soon-to-be ex-wife.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said politely.

  She didn’t even look at me.

  “We need to talk, Lucien.”

  “You need to go home and sleep it off, Lynn.”

  She shook her head, but the movement knocked her off balance, and she would have fallen backward if Lucien hadn’t been holding her. He was clearly annoyed, a muscle popping in his jaw as he studied her.

  “We have to get her out of here,” he said finally, glancing at me.

  I just nodded.

  He pushed Lynn toward the d
oor, and I followed, slipping out of my shoes as soon as we were outside. We’d come to the restaurant in Lucien’s car, Jacob and Rachel riding along with us. But Elizabeth and Karl had a car big enough to get everyone home. Lucien handed me the keys, and I unlocked the doors, stepping out of the way as he pushed Lynn into the backseat. She protested, but halfheartedly, clearly drunk or high on something. The moment her ass touched the seat, she fell over and curled up into a little ball.

  “We can’t take her back to the house,” Lucien said, glancing back at the restaurant. “If Jacob saw her like this—”

  “I’ll text Jacob and tell him you aren’t feeling well.”

  He nodded. “That’s the best we can do, I suppose.”

  We stopped by the house so that we could grab our stuff. I didn’t have a chance to look for a computer because Lucien was with me, and he didn’t want to leave Lynn alone in his car too long. I did peek into the master bedroom while I was waiting for Lucien to get his stuff out of the bedroom—the door was left open—but I didn’t see a desktop or a laptop sitting out anywhere.

  Whoever was doing this was trying awfully hard to make it look like it was Jacob’s doing. And that was beginning to piss me off.

  The drive back to the city was uneventful. Lynn snored in the backseat, and Lucien concentrated on his driving. He didn’t speak, didn’t even look at me. He glanced into the rearview a few times, but that was it. Once in the city, we drove into one of the lovely suburbs—Katy, I think—and into the driveway of a nice, colonial-style house in one of those perfect, cookie-cutter housing developments.

  “Help me get her out of the car.”

  Sure.

  I held the car door open. Then I took the keys he fished out of her purse and unlocked the front door. He walked in like he owned the place, taking her not up the stairs but to a large bedroom suite at the back of the house. When he laid her on the bed, she opened her eyes and smiled, planting a huge kiss on Lucien like this wasn’t the first time she’d found him leaning over her.