Lucas raised one dark brow.
“I mean it,” Genevieve said. She needed to earn her first money, pay her overdue bills, prove herself and reclaim her self-respect.
Closing her eyes to her lack of experience, she tried not to panic at the thought of the massive task ahead. “Where should I begin?” She glanced toward the brooms and rags and cleaning supplies in one corner.
“Today we’ll just get you acclimated. I want you to get a feel for the building and the possibilities, what we need to accomplish. In time, there will be eight women living here, so you’ll want to get a sense of the space and help me decide what we’re going to do with it decorating and usage-wise. I deal in sporting goods and making money and I’ve spearheaded the construction of a number of stores, but I’m sure you’ll have more of an idea about what women might want or need in a dream home. You’re also the expert in decorating and events planning.”
“Okay. So…what type of events will those be?” Her heart was pounding so hard she was amazed Lucas couldn’t hear it. She had always been the behind-the-scenes person, not the up-front person.
“This house is in a residential neighborhood. We’ll want to make sure the locals are comfortable with us. For that, we’ll need to court them, to reassure them that the women here will be their neighbors, women committed to making life and this neighborhood a better place. This place—” he swung his arm out in an arc “—as I mentioned, is meant to be a place where women arrive broken and leave whole, with pride in who they are and who they can become.”
Genevieve couldn’t help herself then. “That’s wonderful. What you’re doing is wonderful.” She couldn’t help wondering what had sparked this project, but she didn’t dare ask. Maybe she was clueless about a lot of things, but something so far-removed from the realm of running the sporting goods empire Lucas had built his reputation on? It had to be personal.
To her surprise, he frowned at her compliment. “Wonderful is a very strong word. It doesn’t fit here. The fact is that I’m a very rich man, and I can get this started, but that’s not nearly enough. The real power lies in getting other people, lots of other people, behind Angie’s House and the next Angie’s House and the next. So when we’re done with the renovation, we’ll open the doors. I want you to plan and oversee a major open house for the most elite members of the city. Our goal is to impress them and to impress upon them the need to get involved. Finally, you’ll help me find the women who’ll live here and the employees who’ll work here.”
She blinked, trying not to be overwhelmed, trying not to panic at what was going to be expected of her. Breathe, Gen, breathe. Take it easy. Take it one step at a time, she thought. Just take one tiny step. “Okay. That all makes sense. For now, I guess—I should probably get started on the cleaning. There’s a lot of building here.” A whole lot of scrubbing for a woman who had never done anything like that.
There was that elusive hint of a smile again, the straight, hard line of his mouth barely curving up at one corner. What had she said that was so amusing?
“I’m sure this isn’t what you grew up doing and I don’t expect you to single-handedly tackle this mess. I have two helpers coming in. They’ll be assisting you as the project progresses and they’ll be doing most of the repairing, painting and cleanup. But they’ll respect you more if they see that you’re not afraid of getting a little dirt beneath your fingernails.”
Was that a dare? Genevieve had no idea and no real idea of how to begin. She wasn’t even sure how to make use of her helpers who would be coming soon. She’d never been in this kind of position, and her parents had been flighty, self-absorbed people who probably weren’t typical employers, so there was little use in trying to utilize her past experiences. Still, she didn’t want to ask too many questions. If she was supposed to be a project manager, shouldn’t she appear…managerial? She especially didn’t want to ask anything that would make her look foolish. Barry had often made fun of her naïveté.
“All right. That makes sense. And I’m not afraid.” Not of getting dirt under her fingernails, but of Lucas, a man who overwhelmed by his presence and his manner and his looks…? Yes, she was afraid, but she didn’t want to think about that.
Instead, she picked up a broom and began to sweep. With vigor and determination. Soon the dust was swirling, flying all around, clogging her throat.
She couldn’t hold back a cough.
Lucas appeared at her side. He touched her hand. Just the lightest of touches, but when his flesh met hers, fierce heat swirled through her, her breath caught, her whole body became aware of him as a man. She jerked back, stopped sweeping.
“Easy, Genevieve. It’s just dust. You want to push it, not attack it. Like this.” He demonstrated.
She took back the broom, embarrassed that she couldn’t even manage the simplest of tasks. With some effort, she tried not to think about how Lucas’s fingertips had felt against her skin.
It couldn’t matter. Nothing could matter except succeeding. Moving on. Moving up. Learning. And getting good at being alone.
A mere two hours into the day, Lucas looked up to see that Genevieve was soaked to the skin. She was a total mess.
A beautiful mess, he corrected, then frowned at the thought. She was washing walls and water was sluicing down her arms, slicking away the layers of dirt she’d accumulated dusting and sweeping. The moisture turned her creamy skin shiny and damp and then sloshed onto her pale blue blouse, making it cling to her body.
But she wasn’t complaining.
A sliver of admiration slipped through him followed by something else. Something hot when he stared at that damp fabric encasing her slender form.
Knock it off, McDowell. She’s your employee. Your very temporary employee. And off-limits. In all ways.
Stifling a growl, Lucas threw down the cloth he was using to wash windows and went into the closet, where he had stashed a few changes of clothing. Removing a faded chambray shirt from a hanger, he walked over to Genevieve. “You might want this. And…you probably don’t need to use that much water.”
She looked up at him through dazed eyes. Tired eyes. He realized that she’d been working like a dog since she arrived two hours ago. When she looked at the shirt and then glanced down at her chest, he could see the jolt of embarrassment rip through her. That creamy skin turned almost as rosy as her hair.
“I—thank you. Yes, less water. I’ll remember that,” she said as she hastily reached out, took the shirt and slipped into it. It was miles too big for her. Baggy. Good.
“Time for a break,” he said.
“No, I…I’m fine. I need to get this done. We’re on a tight schedule, right?”
“We are. But even bosses need breathers. Thomas and Jorge will be here any minute. They’ll need us to give them orders, to guide them. A boss that looks beat-up doesn’t instill confidence in the employees.” Which was true but sounded like a made-up excuse. Still, she gave him a tentative nod. She stopped long enough to have a drink of water and rest for a minute. Then she went back to her wall-washing.
When Thomas and Jorge showed up, Lucas introduced them. Thomas bowed slightly. “You are…muy bonita, Ms. Patchett,” he said.
Jorge elbowed Thomas in the stomach. “Thomas, Ms. Patchett is our boss. Show some respect. Forgive my brother, Ms. Patchett. This is his first job.”
To Lucas’s surprise, Genevieve laughed. “There’s nothing to forgive, Jorge. This is my—”
Uh-oh, the princess was going to tell Thomas and Jorge this was her first job, wasn’t she? That would be a mistake.
Lucas coughed and glowered at her.
Her eyes widened and she looked at him. A flush climbed from the neck of his shirt to her cheeks. She turned back to Jorge. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Jorge. And Thomas, thank you so much for the compliment. I’m wet and dirty and I appreciate your efforts to make me feel better about that. I look forward to working with both of you.” Wiping her palm on her pants, she held out her hand.
The pink polish that had graced her nails this morning was chipped and her nails were ragged, but Thomas took her hand and bowed over it as if she were royalty. Jorge gave her a big smile and did the same.
Lucas had met the men before. He’d hired them, and Jorge had worked on a previous job. Now he said hello…and waited for his project manager to make the next move. When she said nothing, he glanced her way.
Genevieve stared him directly in the eyes, that pink glow growing rosier. Then she raised her chin and cleared her throat. “Lucas and I have been concentrating on cleaning the living room and entranceway. Thomas, why don’t you work on the kitchen, and Jorge, take the family room. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns.”
“I have a question. Will there be plaster work required? I have some experience in that area, but Thomas has none. If there’s a lot of it to handle, we might need help.”
A brief look of panic sprang into Genevieve’s eyes. Lucas inwardly cursed, then opened his mouth to bail her out. But she was shaking her head. “I’m not sure yet. Let me get back to you on that. For now, let’s just concentrate on getting rid of all the dirt.”
The two men nodded, then wandered off. When they had gone, Lucas turned to her. “Good save.”
She stared up at him with big eyes. “It was all I could think of. I don’t know anything about plaster work.”
“You know what a smooth wall looks like. Jorge knows enough to handle any problem areas. There are a few but not much. I’ll take you on a tour. We’ll discuss what basic repair needs to be done. I should have done that already.” Except a part of him had needed to see how “the debutante” handled the tough, dirty stuff. To his surprise, she was handling it. Not with any finesse, but with determination.
“Let’s go,” he said.
He led her through the rooms, pointing out problem areas, the general plan for cleanup, repair and renovation and the big picture. “When we’re done, each woman will need her own private space but there needs to be plenty of flow and room for interaction. This is a house, but it will also be a community, hopefully a family. The space needs to reflect that.”
Genevieve didn’t say much, but she listened. She nodded. “And I’ll be overseeing all of this.”
Her voice sounded slightly faint.
Lucas frowned. “I’ll work with you closely, but I have a business to run, other irons in the fire. This will largely be your project.” Except he would personally see to it that the deadline didn’t fall through. The deadline was that important.
“All right. I see.” Genevieve gave a tight nod. They turned down a hallway, not speaking, their steps silent on the carpeting.
The slosh of water sounded in a nearby room. “I don’t know. Ms. Patchett is very nice, but…not experienced,” Jorge was saying. “I hope she knows what she’s doing and doesn’t lead us into any mistakes. I don’t want to lose this job.”
“She’s very pretty. Do you think she and Mr. McDowell…?” Thomas’s voice trailed off.
“Idiot. No,” Jorge said. “I’ve worked with Mr. McDowell before. He doesn’t mix business and pleasure. Besides, she’s too…I don’t know…too innocent for him. Not his type.” He stopped. “We shouldn’t be talking like this. They might hear. We might get fired. And anyway, it’s wrong.”
Genevieve had stopped in her tracks. She looked up at Lucas, embarrassment written across every feature. Suddenly, she grabbed his hand and pulled him silently back down the hall. Then, cheeks blazing, she took a deep breath. “How long do you think the repair and renovation of this place should take?” she asked loudly. Too loudly. Loud enough for the other men to hear. Clearly, she didn’t want Thomas and Jorge to know what she had overheard.
“Everything has to be done in six weeks. After that, we invite the world in, invite the tenants, and I leave town. Can you handle that?” he asked, playing along.
She took a deep, visible breath. “I can handle anything, Mr. McDowell.” Her voice shook slightly, but it came out loud enough to carry.
They continued down the hall past the room where Thomas and Jorge were working. “I lied. I’d like to pretend that I know exactly what I’m doing, but I think it’s clear that I’m learning. But I’ll tell you this much, Lucas. Truthfully. Totally truthfully. I may not be able to handle everything yet, but I don’t intend to slack off or slow down or disappoint you if I can help it. I intend to do my best at this job.”
A nicer man would have assured her that that was enough. He had never been a nice man. “I intend to see that you do,” he said. He hoped she would be able to produce the results that he needed. If everything worked out as planned, Genevieve would be his glowing gateway to the people he needed to reach.
But, by the end of the day, she wasn’t glowing. Instead, she was wet, dirty and drooping. Strands of her bright hair had come loose from her tight ponytail and there was a scrape on her cheek. She looked as if she might drop to the ground at any minute.
“I’ll take you home,” he said. “Congratulations. You survived your first day.” But he wondered whether she would be back for a second day or if she would choose to slink away, to decide that this was no life for a debutante.
Still, when he pulled up to her apartment, the sight of her crumbling and dangerous neighborhood reminded him that she had left debutante status behind. And he wasn’t buying her declaration that she would never marry for money. Too long in a place like this and a woman—or a man—might do anything to get out. He knew about that kind of thing. Far too well, he thought with a grimace. Genevieve could get hurt. She shouldn’t be living here.
The thought caught him by surprise. He never allowed his interactions with employees to get personal, but then this project was personal, the repayment of a long overdue debt. Finishing it would close a chapter in his life he never wanted to look back on again and tie up loose ends he couldn’t control. Then, he could concentrate on a future he could control, one with zero emotional risks. Just the way he liked things.
“Thank you for the ride,” Genevieve said, reaching for the door, clearly uncomfortable. Probably not used to silent brooding bosses frowning at her.
“You don’t…fit in a place like this,” he said, stopping her and further surprising and angering himself.
To his amazement, she laughed, a light, bell-like sound. “I fit,” she said. “We’re all misfits here. I’m just not the norm.”
Then she sprinted for her building, paying no attention to her surroundings, her purse flopping against her hip.
Darn it! But then, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at her carelessness. A princess like her would have been used to leaving everything, including her security, to others.
Growling, he flung open his door and got out. “Genevieve,” he said, his voice carrying.
She turned, those big eyes open wide, startled.
“Lock your door,” he said. “I don’t want to lose my project manager through carelessness,” he felt compelled to add.
Genevieve blushed. She bit her lip. Was that a trace of resentment in her eyes? Intriguing. He hadn’t seen that before.
“I have six locks,” she told him, lifting her chin a tiny bit. There was just a trace of haughtiness, of the miffed debutante. “I… You don’t really trust me, do you?”
He hesitated. “I hired you.”
She nodded. “Because I’m a Patchett.”
He wasn’t going to deny it. Nor was he going to tell her he trusted her. He wasn’t sure whether he did. The truth was, he had a suspicion that hiring her had been a mistake, for reasons that had nothing to do with the project, reasons he didn’t even want to acknowledge. There was something about her that made him not trust himself. He had a terrible feeling that he knew what it was, too. It wasn’t good.
But he had hired her. The only thing to do now was to muddle through this mess. Quickly. Soon enough Genevieve Patchett would just be another woman in the rearview mirror of his consciousness. He was a pro at leaving bad situations—and problemat
ic women—behind. If Genevieve was more problematic than most…well, he wouldn’t let that happen. He’d tell her what she needed to know to do her job, oversee her progress from a distance and then he’d send her on her way with enough money to escape this place.
And both of them would walk away happy. End of story.
CHAPTER THREE
GENEVIEVE LAY IN THE DARK, staring up at the ceiling but seeing instead the frown on Lucas’s gorgeous face. Carefully, she went over what had taken place during the day. And cringed.
“You didn’t even know how to sweep a floor, how to wash a wall.” She groaned and placed her palms over her hot face. “The man must think that he’s hired an idiot. He’s probably cursing Teresa and me right now, probably already looking through his list of applicants for my replacement. I don’t have any of the skills necessary, nothing that he wanted.”
Worse than that, she had an annoying habit of blushing every time she looked at the man. With just one wordless glance, he had pointed out that her wet blouse was plastered to her body, and her reaction had been beyond embarrassment. Heat had slithered through her veins. Those steel-gray eyes had found her time and time again today, often wordlessly, and every time he had looked at her, she had felt like…
A woman when she should have felt like an employee. For two seconds she thought back to the days when she had appeared at all of her parents’ balls and openings. What would Lucas have thought of her had he met her under such circumstances?
“Stop it right now, Gen,” she ordered herself. She wasn’t some silly romantic girl anymore. Besides, she most emphatically did not want a man, and Lucas certainly didn’t want her, she thought, remembering Jorge’s, Teresa’s and Rita’s words.
Besides, her very survival depended on her doing well at this job. And yet…in the back of her mind she heard her parents berating her for being awkward and for not being talented enough. She heard Barry mocking her for being such a sheltered, clueless princess. The thought that any day now Lucas might decide that she was incapable of doing her job…
Riches to Rags Bride Page 4
