Billionaire Bachelors: Stone

by Anne Marie Winston

  When he’d come to visit a few months after the funeral to help her mother tell her what they had decided, he’d been grieving, but even set in unsmiling severe lines, his face had been handsome. She’d been drawn even more than ever to his steady strength and charismatic presence. He talked about the friendship their fathers had shared since their days as fraternity brothers in college but she’d known even before he started to talk that he’d feel responsible for her. He was just that kind of man.

  He intended to continue to send her to a nearby private school in Massachusetts, he told her, and to make sure that her mother’s care was uninterrupted and her days free of worry. And though she hadn’t known it at the time, Stone had taken over the burden of those debts. At the time of his death, her father had been nearly insolvent.

  “Faith!” One of the other saleswomen whispered at her as she rushed by. “Who is that gorgeous, gorgeous man standing over there? I saw you talking to him.”

  Faith threaded her way through the salespeople gathering in the aisle. “A family friend,” she replied. Then she saw Doro, her manager. “What time will I have my break today?”

  Doro’s eyes were alive with the same avid curiosity dancing in the other womens’ faces. “Does he want you to have lunch with him?”

  Wordlessly Faith nodded.

  “That’s Stone Lachlan!” One of the other clerks rushed up, dramatically patting her chest. “Of the steel fortune Lachlans. And his mother is the CEO of Smythe Corp. Do you know how much he’s worth?”

  “Who cares?” asked another. “He could be penniless and I’d still follow him anywhere. What a total babe!”

  “Sh-h-h.” Doro hustled the others back to work. Then she turned back to Faith. “Go right now!” The manager all but took her by the shoulders and shoved her back in Stone’s direction.

  Faith was amused, but she understood Stone’s potent appeal. Even if he hadn’t been so good-looking, he exuded an aura of power that drew women irresistibly.

  Quietly she gathered her purse and her long black wool coat, still a necessity in New York City in March. Then she walked back to the front of the women’s department where Stone waited. He put a hand beneath her elbow as he escorted her from the store and she shivered at the touch of his hard, warm fingers on the tender bare flesh of her neck as he helped her into her coat and gently drew her hair from beneath the collar.

  He had a taxi waiting at the curb and after he’d handed her into the car, he took a seat at her side. “The Rainbow Room,” he said to the driver.

  Faith sat quietly, absorbing as much of the moment as she could. This could very well be the last time she ever shared a meal with him. Indeed, this could be the last time she ever saw him, she realized. He had taken her out to eat from time to time when she was younger and he’d come to visit her at school. She’d never known when he was going to show up and whisk her off for the afternoon—Lord, she’d lived for those visits. But she and Stone lived in different worlds now and it was unlikely their paths would cross.

  At the restaurant, they were seated immediately. She sat quietly until Stone had ordered their meals. Then he squared his big shoulders, spearing her with an intense look. “You can’t work as a shop girl.”

  “Why not? Millions of women do and it hasn’t seemed to harm them.” Faith toyed with her water glass, meeting his gaze. “Besides, I don’t have a choice. You know as well as I do that I have no money.”

  He had the grace to look away. “You’d have been taken care of,” he said gruffly.

  “I know, and I appreciate that.” She folded her hands in her lap. “But I can’t accept your charity. I’d like to know how much I owe you for everything you did in the past eight years—”

  “I didn’t ask you to pay me back.” He leaned forward and she actually found herself shrinking back from the fierce scowl on his face.

  “Nonetheless,” she said as firmly as she could manage, given the way her stomach was quivering, “I intend to. It will take me some time, but if we draw up a schedule—”

  “No.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said no, you may not pay me back.” His voice rose. “Dammit, Faith, your father would have done the same if I’d been in your shoes. I promised your mother I’d take care of you. She trusts me. Besides, it’s an honor thing. I’m only doing what I know my father would have done.”

  “Ah, but your father didn’t make risky investments that destroyed his fortune,” she said, unable to prevent a hot wash of humiliation from warming her cheeks.

  “He could have.” Stone’s chin jutted forward in a movement she recognized from the time he’d descended on the school to talk to her math teacher about giving her a failing grade on a test she’d been unable to take because she’d had pneumonia. “Besides,” he said, “it’s not as if it’s made a big dent in my pocketbook. Last time I checked, there were a few million left.”

  She shook her head. “I still don’t feel right about taking your money. Do you have any idea how I felt when I learned that you’d been paying my way for years?”

  “How did you find out, anyway?” He ignored her question.

  “In February I went to the bank to talk about my father’s investments—I thought it would be good for me to start getting a handle on them since you’d no longer be responsible for me after my twenty-first birthday, which is coming up later this year. I assumed I’d take on responsibility for my mother’s finances then, as well. That’s when I learned that every item in my family’s budget for eight years had been paid for by you.” Despite her vow to remain calm, tears welled in her eyes. “I was appalled. Someone should have told me.”

  “And what good would that have done, other than to distress you needlessly?”

  “I could have gotten a job right out of high school, begun to support myself.”

  “Faith,” he said with ill-concealed impatience. “You were not quite thirteen years old when your father died. Do you really think I would have left you and your mother to struggle alone?”

  “It wasn’t your decision to make,” she insisted with stubborn pride, swallowing the tears.

  “It was,” he said in a tone that brooked no opposition. “It is. Your mother appointed me your guardian. Besides, if you finish your education you’ll be able to get a heck of a lot better job than working as a salesclerk at Saks.”

  “Does my mother know the truth?”

  Stone shook his head. “She believes I oversee your investments and take care of the bills out of the income. Her doctors tell me stress is bad for MS patients. Why distress her needlessly?”

  It made sense. And in an objective way, she admired his compassion. But it still horrified her to think of the money he’d spent.

  The waiter returned then with their meal and the conversation paused until he’d set their entrées before them. They both were quiet for the next few moments.

  Stone ate with deep concentration, his dark brows drawn together, obviously preoccupied with something.

  She hated to be keeping him from something important but when she said as much, he replied, “You were the only thing on my agenda for today.”

  Really, there wasn’t anything she could say in response to that, she thought, suppressing a smile. “Since that’s the case,” she finally said, “I’d really like to have an accounting of how much I owe you—”

  “Do not ask me that one more time.” Stone’s deep voice vibrated with suppressed anger.

  She gave up. If Stone wouldn’t tell her, she could figure out a rough estimate, at least, by combining tuition fees with a living allowance. And she should be able to get a record of her mother’s fees from her doctor. “I have to get back to work soon,” she said in the coolest, most polite manner she could muster.

  Stone’s head came up; he eyed her expression. “Hell,” he said. “You’re already mad at me; I might as well get it all over with at once.”

  “I’d prefer that you don’t swear in my presence.” She lifted her
chin. Then his words penetrated. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not going back to work.”

  “Excuse me?” Her voice was frosty.

  He hesitated. “I phrased that badly. I want you to quit work.”

  She stared at him. “Are you crazy? And live on what?”

  He scowled. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

  “I can take care of myself. I won’t always be a salesclerk. I’m taking night classes starting in the summer,” she said. Despite her efforts to remain calm, her voice began to rise. “It’s going to take longer this way but I’ll finish.”

  “What are you studying?” His sudden capitulation wasn’t expected.

  She eyed him with suspicion. “Business administration and computer programming. I’d like to start my own business in Web design one of these days.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Ambitious.”

  “And necessary,” she said. “Mama’s getting worse. She’s going to need ’round-the-clock care one of these days. I need to be able to provide the means for her to have it.”

  “You know I’ll always take care of your mother.”

  “That’s not the point!” She wanted to bang her head—or his—against the table in frustration.

  “My father would have expected me to take care of you. That’s the point.” He calmly sat back against the banquette, unfazed by her aggravation, an elegant giant with the classic features of a Greek god, and she was struck again by how handsome he was. When they’d entered The Rainbow Room, she’d been aware of the ripple of feminine interest that his presence had attracted. She’d been ridiculously glad that she was wearing her black Donna Karan today. It might be a few years old but it was a gorgeous garment and she felt more confident simply slipping it on. Then she remembered that his money had paid for the dress, and her pleasure in her appearance drained away.

  “I’m sure your father would be pleased that you’ve done your duty,” she said with a note of asperity. “But we will not continue to accept your charity.”

  He grimaced. “Bullhead.”

  “Look who’s talking.” But she couldn’t resist the gleam in his eye and she smiled back at him despite the gnawing feeling of humiliation that had been lodged in her belly since the day she’d found out she was essentially a pauper. “Now take me back to work. My lunch hour is almost over.”

  He heaved an impatient sigh. “This is against my better judgment.”

  She leaned forward, making her best effort to look intimidating. “Just think about how miserable I will make your life if you don’t. I’m sure your judgment will improve quickly.”

  He shot her a quirky grin. “I’m shaking in my boots.”

  He didn’t want to notice her.

  She had been an unofficial little sister during his youth, and his responsibility since her father had died. She was ten years younger than he was. He was her guardian, for God’s sake!

  But as he handed her back into the car after their meal, his eye was caught by the slim length of her leg in the elegant high heels as she stepped in, by the way her simple dress hugged the taut curve of her thigh as she slid across the seat, by the soft press of pert young breasts against the fabric of the black coat as she reached for her seat belt.

  He’d seen her standing in the store long before she had noticed him, her slender figure strikingly displayed in a black dress that, although it was perfectly discreet, clung to her in a way that made a man want to strip it off and slide his hands over the smooth curves beneath. Made him want to touch, to pull the pins out of her shining coil of pale hair and watch it slither down over her shoulders and breasts, to set his mouth to the pulse that beat just beneath the delicate skin along her white throat and taste—

  Enough! She’s not for you.

  Grimly he dragged his mind back from the direction in which it wanted to stray.

  He hated the idea of her wearing herself out hustling in retail for eight hours a day, and he figured he’d give it one more try. The only woman he’d ever known who really enjoyed working was his mother. Faith shouldn’t be working herself into exhaustion. She should be gracing someone’s home, casting her gentle influence around a man, making his life an easier place to be. He knew it was an archaic attitude and that most modern women would hit him over the head for voicing such a thought. But he’d lived a childhood without two parents because his own mother had put business before family. He knew, despite all the Superwoman claims of the feminist movement, that a woman couldn’t do it all.

  Diplomatically he only said, “Why don’t you go back to school for the rest of the semester? Then this summer we can talk about you finding a job.”

  Her eyes grew dark and her delicate brows snapped together. “You will not give me money. More money,” she amended. “I’m not quitting work. I need the money. Besides, it’s too late in the semester to reenroll. I’ve missed too much.”

  He looked across the car at her, seated decorously with her slender feet placed side by side, her hands folded in her lap and her back straight as a ramrod. Her hair was so fair it nearly had a silver sheen to it where the winter sun struck it, and her eyes were a pure lake-gray above the straight little nose. She had one of the most classically lovely faces he’d ever seen, and she looked far too fragile to be working so hard. The only thing that marred the picture of the perfect lady was the frown she was aiming his way. The contrast was adorable and he caught himself before he blurted out how beautiful she was in a snit.

  Then he realized that beautiful or not, she was as intransigent as a mule who thought she was carrying too heavy a load. “All right,” he said. “You can keep doing whatever you want. Within reason.”

  “Your definition of reason and mine could be quite different.” Her tone was wry and her frown had relaxed. “Besides, in eight more months, you won’t have any authority to tell me what to do. Why don’t you start practicing now?”

  He took a deep breath, refusing to snarl. He nearly told her that no matter how old she got she’d always be his responsibility, but the last thing he needed was for her to get her back up even more. Then he recalled the image of her stricken face, great gray eyes swimming with the tears she refused to give in to as she told him how she’d found out about her financial affairs, and he gentled his response to a more reasonable request. “Would you at least consider a different kind of job? Something that isn’t so demanding?”

  She was giving him another distinctly suspicious look. “Maybe. But I won’t quit today.”

  He exhaled, a deep, exaggeratedly patient sigh. “Of course not.”

  When the taxi rolled to a stop in front of Saks, he took her elbow as she turned toward the door. “Wait,” he said before she could scramble out.

  She turned back and looked at him, her gray eyes questioning.

  “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  Could her eyes get any wider? “Dinner?”

  He knew how she felt. He hadn’t planned to ask her; the words had slipped out before he’d thought about them. Good Lord. “Um, yes,” he said, wondering if thirty was too early for the onset of senility. “I’ll pick you up. What’s your address?”

  She lived on the upper West Side, in a small apartment that would have been adequate for two. But he knew from the talk they had shared over lunch that she had at least two roommates from the names she’d mentioned.

  “How many people do you live with?” he asked dubiously, looking around as she unlocked the door and ushered him in.

  “Three other girls,” she answered. “Two to each bedroom. Two of us work days and two work nights so it’s rare that we’re all here at the same time.”

  Just then, a door opened and a girl in a black leotard and denim overalls came down the hall. Stone examined her with disbelief. She was a redhead, at least mostly. There was a blue streak boldly marching through the red near the left front side of her curly hair. She had a wide, friendly smile and green eyes that were sparkling with interest.

  “Well, he
y,” she said. “Like, I hate to tell you, handsome, but you so do not fit in here.”

  He couldn’t keep himself from returning the grin. “My Rolex gave me away?”

  “Gretchen, this is Stone Lachlan,” Faith said. “Stone, one of my roommates, Gretchen Vandreau.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Gretchen dropped a mock-curtsy, still beaming.

  “You also, Miss Vandreau.” He grinned again as her eyes widened.

  “Are you—oh, wow, you are! The Lachlans.” Her eyebrows shot up as she eyed Faith. “Where did you find him?”

  “Actually I found her,” Stone said. “Faith and I are old friends.” He turned to Faith. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready? Like, to go out?” Gretchen looked from one to the other with delight. “You go, girlfriend.”

  “It’s not like that,” she said to Gretchen.

  “Depends on what that is,” Stone inserted.

  Faith turned and glared at him. “Stone—”

  “Better hurry, I have reservations for eight.” He felt an odd sense of panic as he gauged the mulish expression on her face. Was she having second thoughts? Was she going to back out? He had to battle the urge to simply pick her up and carry her back down to the car.

  She retrieved a black cape from the small coat closet with her friend chattering along behind her. He stepped in to help her on with the garment, and they went out the door to the sound of Gretchen’s enthusiastic, “Have a blast!”

  He took her elbow and urged her into the elevator, conscious of a ridiculous sense of relief sweeping through him as they exited the cramped apartment. It was only that he felt it was his duty to take care of her, he assured himself. Faith didn’t belong in a crowded apartment or behind a counter in a department store. Her family had intended that she be gently raised, probably with the idea that she’d marry a polite young man of the upper class one day and raise polite, well-mannered upper-class children. After all, she’d been sent to the best private schools, had learned the sometimes ridiculous rules that accompanied moving in society.

  He wished the idea didn’t fill him with such a sense of…unease. That was all it was. He wanted the best for her and it would be up to him to be sure any suitors were suitable.