Defensive. Lucas couldn’t blame him but he also noticed that the man wasn’t exactly apologizing, either. He knew damn well what might have happened and could have always counted. On a job site, there were so many things that could go wrong at any given moment, it was up to the man in charge to stay one step ahead of all problems.
“Yeah,” Lucas said, keeping his voice even and his tone calm. “But doing all of that means we’re not doing the job we were hired to do. Plus, we have to eat the cost of the repairs to the deck.”
Shaking his head, he noticed the other man’s temper spiking, in the way his jaw muscles twitched and his hands continued to fist and relax at his sides. Warren could be as mad as he liked, but it was the wrong damn attitude to take with the boss when it was your own blasted mistake that had caused the mess in the first place.
“Warren, you know as well as I do, we lose money every day we spend correcting what went wrong on your site. Now we’re behind on the job, which puts us behind on the next job.” He patted the cement mixer, then folded his arms across his chest. “You were in charge, and you should have made sure WeDig cleared you before any of the guys so much as lifted a shovel.”
Warren’s barrel chest expanded with the huge gulp of air he took in. “You can’t lay all of this off on me.”
“Who else?” Lucas demanded, his own temper beginning to build. Hell, he knew mistakes happened—briefly, he thought about last night with Rose and could admit that he made mistakes, too—but he didn’t have a bit of sympathy for someone so stubborn they couldn’t even own up to it. “You were the foreman on the job.”
“Every one of those guys has worked for you long enough to know better than to start digging,” the man argued hotly. “Am I the babysitter, too?”
Warren’s voice was getting louder, and Lucas heard other sounds in the warehouse quiet down. He knew people were listening and couldn’t seem to care. He’d have preferred that he and Warren could settle this quietly, but maybe it was just as well that everyone here was reminded of the rules. The Kings believed in second chances, sure.
But keep screwing up and you’re out.
“You’re not the babysitter, Warren. You’re the man who gives the orders on the site.” His anger suddenly fading away into a mass of just-plain-tired, Lucas added, “This isn’t the first time you’ve made mistakes on a job, either. King Construction has a solid reputation, and we’ll do what we have to, to protect it.”
“Like fire me?” Warren demanded. “That’s what this is about, right? You came down here to fire me?”
“That’s right,” Lucas said flatly. He was done here. He’d said what he had to say and now he just wanted it finished. “I did. You’ll get two weeks’ severance, plus your vacation pay, but I want you off King property in the next half hour. One of the guards will walk you out.”
“A guard? Now I’m a thief you have to follow around until I leave?”
“It’s standard procedure, Warren, and you know it,” Lucas told him.
“Standard procedure. That’s great.” Warren was clearly furious, but he was also surprised. Lucas saw it in his eyes. Apparently, he had expected the Kings to give him another warning and that would be the end of it. He backed up a step, muttered under his breath and ran one hand across the top of his bald head. Finally, he glared at Lucas. “Five years I’ve worked for you and you toss me aside this easy?”
And just like that, Lucas thought, his own anger was back. “Like I said, this wasn’t your first mistake. And hell, I could even accept the mistakes if you’d just once taken responsibility for them. But no. You always push it off on the guys. Their fault. They didn’t listen.” Lucas took a breath and blew it out. “Well, Warren, when you’re in charge, you better make damn sure they’re listening to you.”
“You son of a bitch. What am I supposed to do now?”
“No longer my problem,” Lucas told him simply and started past him. His task was over and he didn’t feel any better. Now he had to head back to the office and try to concentrate on work, when the reality was, he knew damn well Rose would be front and center in his mind all day—just as she had been all night.
“Don’t you turn your back on me—” Warren reached out, grabbed Lucas’s arm and spun him around. Drawing his right arm back, the man took a swing at him, but Lucas blocked the punch easily enough and threw one of his own into Warren’s stomach that had him bending over and wheezing for air.
Irritated beyond belief, Lucas just glared at the man. “What the hell were you thinking? Throwing a swing at me? On top of being fired you want to be arrested?”
“You hit me.”
“Yeah,” Lucas said. “I told Sean I wouldn’t, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to ratchet this up into a fight. You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”
“I’ll sue!” Warren managed to say, raising his furious gaze to Lucas.
“No, you won’t,” Julio said from right behind Lucas. “I saw the whole thing. You took the first punch. Lucas was defending himself.”
Grateful, Lucas nodded at the younger man. A lawsuit would have been expensive and time-consuming. With Julio stepping forward, they’d avoid the hassle, and he appreciated it. “Julio, get security back here to escort Warren to his car.”
Julio sent the still wheezing man a disgusted look, but nodded and said, “Right, boss.”
Lucas moved away, still feeling a nagging sense of something unfinished inside him. Even hitting that moron hadn’t helped any.
He walked out of the warehouse, oblivious to the noise, the laughter and conversation. The fog was burning off and the sun was a hazy, rising ball of fire overhead. He shoved his hands into his pockets, took a deep breath of the sea air and told himself that the real problem wasn’t Warren, and he knew it.
It was Rose. How they’d left things.
When she’d walked out of his house last night it had taken everything in him not to go after her, carry her back into the house and tie her to his damn bed. He could still see the look of wild fury in her eyes when he had called her Saint Rose. And he remembered, too, that arguing with her had been as damned intoxicating as making love to her.
The woman was getting to him on so many levels he couldn’t count them all.
So it was best that she’d left last night. And good that he hadn’t spoken to her since. After all, he reminded himself sternly, this had been the plan. He’d gotten her into his bed. Now all he had to do was tell Dave all about it and then stop seeing Rose altogether. Perfect.
Except for the niggling question of whether or not they’d created a child. Gritting his teeth, Lucas reined in his thoughts and tucked them at the back of his mind, where no doubt they would continue to torture him all the damn day.
“You hit him, didn’t you?” Sean asked when he strolled up alongside him.
“What?” Lucas turned and frowned at his brother. “How’d you know?”
“The guys are talking about it. You came off really well in the telling, by the way.”
“That’s just great,” Lucas muttered. “Warren took the first swing, but yeah. I punched him.”
Sean handed over his latte. “Here. Have some.”
Lucas took a few long swallows, welcoming the caffeine before handing it back.
“I knew you’d hit him,” Sean said with a shrug. “That’s why I wanted to go in with you.”
“To stop me?”
“Hell no,” Sean said. “I wanted to hit him.”
Reluctantly, Lucas grinned. No matter how screwed up his life was, it was still good to have brothers.
The knock at the front door came only a few minutes after Rose had returned from her predawn walk through the fog. She was still exhausted, still struggling with her thoughts and in no mood for company. She pulled back the edge of the curtains to peer out and sighed.
“Ready or not,” she muttered, “company’s here, and it’s not going anywhere.”
Her own fault, she told herself as she walked
to the front door and unlocked it. If Rose hadn’t called an hour ago, Dee wouldn’t be standing on her front porch right now, with two lattes and a bag that hopefully included doughnuts.
She opened the door and gave her friend a half smile. “You didn’t have to come over, you know.”
“Right,” Dee said, walking past her into the living room. “My best friend calls me at the crack of dear-God-why-am-I-awake, and I should just roll over and drop back into dreamland.”
Wincing, Rose closed the front door, locked it and followed her friend into the small, cozy living room. Dee was already on the couch, her sandal-clad feet propped on the coffee table and the serving tray of lattes on the cushion beside her.
Even at six-something in the morning, Delilah James looked gorgeous. She wore a body-hugging pale yellow shirt tucked into skintight dark-wash blue jeans. Her red hair was styled and fluffed, her makeup was flawless and her green eyes were practically glowing with curiosity.
All in all, Rose thought sadly, as she walked to the couch in her baggy sweats and battered sneakers, she felt like the ugly stepsister next to the shining Cinderella.
“I hope there are doughnuts in that bag,” she said as she took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
“Am I breathing? Yes, there are doughnuts in the bag. And a latte with your name on it.”
“Thanks.”
“Skip the thank-yous and tell me what’s going on.” Dee took a sip of her own latte and waited. One of her best skills as a girlfriend was that she was a terrific listener.
Rose knew all too well that Delilah would sit right there on the couch all morning and into the afternoon if she had to, waiting for Rose to spill her guts. Then she would listen without judging—mostly—and after that, she would support whatever it was Rose decided to do.
If only she knew what to do.
“It’s a long story,” Rose said, taking a sip of the latte and letting its heat slide through her system like a blessing.
“I brought a lot of doughnuts,” Dee pointed out. “So start talking.”
Surrendering to the inevitable, Rose dug in the bag for a doughnut, took a healthy bite and started talking.
An hour later, she was stuffed full, her eyes were grittier than ever and she was more exhausted than she’d ever been in her life.
“So,” Rose said on a sigh as she rummaged in the now empty bag for the few remaining crumbs, “that’s the story of my incredibly screwed-up life.”
“It’s a beauty of a story, I’ll give you that,” Dee said, taking the bag away to crumple it, ignoring Rose’s frown. She tossed it onto the coffee table beside their empty latte cups. “The question is, what are you going to do now?”
“Heck if I know.” Rose laid one hand on her flat belly and tried to imagine the reality of carrying a child.
An instant later, she was wishing for more doughnuts.
“You’re probably not pregnant,” Dee said thoughtfully. “I mean, people try for years without conceiving. What’re the odds you could do it in one try?”
“True,” she agreed, not really believing it.
“And I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but as the best friend, I have to at least suggest it…”
“What?” she asked warily.
Dee sighed. “There is a pill you can take the morning after, and you know it.”
“I know,” Rose said. “I actually thought of that around three this morning.” Then she shook her head. “But I can’t, Dee. It would be like wishing the baby away—if there is one—and I couldn’t live with it. With Mom and Dad both gone now, if there is a baby, it would be my family, you know? So I can’t, you know? I mean, it’s good that it’s out there, but it’s not for me.”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t be for me, either.” Dee leaned over and patted Rose’s hand in support. “So, we’ll just have to hope for the best, and wait and see on the baby front. On the Lucas front…”
“Oh,” Rose told her with a quick shake of her head, “trust me when I say there is no Lucas front.”
“Please. You can’t even sleep for thinking about the man.”
“That doesn’t mean there’s anything there, Dee. It just means that we had one wild, incredible night of sex followed by a humiliating argument.” She took a breath and blew it out again. “Saint Rose.”
Dee laughed, and Rose sent her a look.
“Sorry,” her friend said, making an effort to stop the chuckles. “But if you could see the look on your face when you said that.”
Rose grabbed one of the throw pillows, tugged it out from behind her back and held it in front of her, wrapping both arms around it. “The Saint-Rose thing notwithstanding, you should have seen the expression on Lucas’s face when he told me that we’d be getting married if I turn up pregnant. He meant every word, Dee.”
“So what?” Dee scooted closer, draped one arm around Rose’s shoulder and said, “He can’t force you to marry him, sweetie. All he can do is bluster and demand. You don’t have to do a damn thing you don’t want to—beyond sharing custody, of course.”
Rose dropped her head to the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “Custody battles. Doesn’t that sound like a good time?”
“You play, you pay,” Dee told her gently.
“Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to comfort me?”
“Right. Well, here’s the comfort.” Dee gave her shoulders a squeeze. “You’re probably not pregnant, so chances are, you’ll never have to see Lucas King again.”
Never see Lucas again. Four words that left a cold, dark empty feeling inside her. Rose looked at her friend. “Sadly, that thought isn’t much comfort, either.”
Dee nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
Nine
After Dee left, Rose had a brief cry and a long nap, then woke up feeling almost human again. She still didn’t have a clue what she was going to do next, but whatever it turned out to be, she was sure she could handle it. If she never saw Lucas again, at least she’d had that one night with him that she used to dream of experiencing.
Of course now, she would be dreaming about that night for the rest of her life, but that was okay, she thought firmly. She could deal.
“Hear that, universe? I can take it.” She stirred a big pot of beef-and-barley soup and took a deep breath of the amazing scents wafting into the air.
Outside, it was dark, and a storm had blown in off the ocean. Wind rattled tree limbs and rain tapped at the windows like nervous fingers. But inside, all was warm and cozy.
Cooking had always soothed her. As a child, she remembered standing on a chair at the counter while the family cook taught her to make cookies. And as Rose got older, the lessons became more complex. By the time she was a teenager, she spent most of her spare time in the kitchen.
She hadn’t had boyfriends—not with her father and brother standing guard over her. So she spent most nights alone in the house, coming up with new recipes to ease the boredom.
Now, Rose set the spoon down on the ceramic-duck spoon rest in the center of her stove and realized that she’d come full circle. Years later and here she was standing in her kitchen daydreaming about guys. Well, one guy.
“And that’s just pitiful.”
She took a seat at the kitchen table and reached for the dark green shirt she had left hanging over the back of one of the chairs. The shirt Lucas had loaned her the night before, she’d meant to wash it today, but hadn’t. Lifting it to her face, she inhaled the scent of him and let pangs of regret and disappointment rush through her.
“No,” she whispered, “this is pitiful.”
God, she didn’t know what was wrong with her. It wasn’t as if she’d never had sex before. And fine, yes, there was the pregnancy worry hanging over her head, but that wasn’t what was bothering her, either. Why was she so torn up inside? Why couldn’t she take a deep breath without feeling as if there were iron bands around her lungs?
“And why are you asking yourself so many questions
when you already know the answers?”
Her fingers trailed across the gold crown and the King Construction logo on the shirt. An image of Lucas sprang up in her mind—dark hair tumbled across his forehead. Blue eyes going hot with passion as he covered her body with his own. And Rose finally admitted to herself what the problem here really was.
She was in love with Lucas King. A part of her had loved him for three years, she thought, fingers still tracing across the King logo on his shirt. From the moment Dave had brought him home and she looked up into those blue eyes. He had been polite, a little distant—no doubt having gotten the off-limits warning from Dave already—but he had smiled at her and something inside Rose had come to life.
She’d been lost even back then.
Maybe that was why she had never found another man that made her heart race and her knees go weak. Maybe that was the real reason she’d agreed to marry Henry Porter when her family asked her to. Somewhere inside her, she had realized that she’d never have the man she wanted, so what did it matter?
Which had been a really bad reason to get married. But looking back, Rose knew she wouldn’t have changed anything even if she could have.
Oh, her marriage had been awful—but in a weird way, it had also been good for her. She had changed a lot, thanks to Henry’s being such a miserable husband. By the time that very brief marriage fizzled out, she had found the kind of courage and confidence she had always lacked before.
Without that sharp learning curve, Rose didn’t know if she ever would have had the nerve to open her own business, let alone take a stand against her older brother. When their father died, Dave had stepped into the patriarchal role as if he’d been born to it…which, he really had, actually. But Rose had already grown too much to give him the kind of power over her their father had once claimed.
She smiled wistfully to herself, remembering the expression on Dave’s face the first time she had said no to one of his orders. It had been well worth the jittering anxiety and the hot ball of tension in her stomach. It hadn’t been easy to take that first step, but when she did, the world hadn’t ended. Dave hadn’t stopped loving her.
Ready for King's Seduction Page 10
