by Arlene James
Too obvious, he decided, and snapped the rectangular box closed, then on second thought stashed it conveniently to hand on the second tier of the serving tray, where the opening courses of dinner waited. He’d sent a single rose and a handwritten note to her office this morning, then come straight here from the airport to make the arrangements.
He’d tried to keep the menu simple: brie encroute, green salad, medallions of beef, chilled asparagus, miniature potatoes and mushrooms with rosemary, brioche, and raspberry sherbet in chocolate cups for dessert. He’d warned Scott that they might not get to dessert.
Belatedly he realized that he’d again wiped his sweaty palms on the legs of his pleated, olive-green trousers. At this rate they’d have no crease left at all by the time she arrived. He glanced wistfully at the fireplace. Texas was damnably hot, making a romantic fire out of the question. The many candles flickering around the darkened room would have to do. His gaze moved to the bed with its covers folded back neatly, and his pulse jumped. To distract himself, he checked the fold of the cuffs of his sleeves, rolled back to reveal his tanned forearms. Likewise, the collar and top few buttons of the soft, loose, white lawn shirt were left open.
He’d felt poised on a knife edge all day, his nerves tingling, heart racing. This was a step he had never really expected to take, and he knew that it would come as a shock to Avis, but surely over these past weeks she had come to realize what he had. They were good together. They belonged together. He would protect her, cosset her as no one ever had. He would indulge her shamefully, please her in every possible way, and take his own pleasure in doing so.
He imagined that she would want to work with him, become a significant and integral part of his operations. He saw them as a team, moving around the world, managing their businesses, homes and growing family together, but always taking time for each other and those they loved. Perhaps he would build her a great house in Puma Springs, where Nico would thrive in the Texas sun and other children would be born. He laughed, imagining brothers and sisters for Nico, but then he thought of his mother in a little nothing town in Texas, and he frowned.
As he had expected, Eugenia was not best pleased about his plans to remarry. Had she been able to choose a traditional, obedient Greek wife for him, someone she could easily bully and manipulate, she would have been somewhat mollified, but that was a battle Lucien had already fought and won and had no intention of repeating. Still, he didn’t fool himself that Avis Lorimer would not continue to complicate his life. She couldn’t know how much. It was one of the reasons why he hadn’t already remarried, but his conviction that he had found his mate overrode all other concerns.
He heard the car and checked his watch, heart quickening. About time. Past time, really, but that was Avis, always quietly, stubbornly calling the tune. She didn’t scream and throw everything that came to hand the way his mother did, thank God, and neither did she manipulate and scheme, but he thought she was sometimes even more difficult to deal with than Eugenia—and more worth the bother. He smiled and hurried through the house, more eager to see her with every step, but when he opened the door, he found only Jeff standing there, cap in his hand.
A cold fist seized Lucien’s heart.
“What is it? Where is Mrs. Lorimer?”
The young driver coughed behind his hand and scuffed his feet on the paving stone. “She, uh, she said to tell you, ‘No, thanks.’“
“No, thanks?” he echoed, suddenly aware of a pain in the top of his head, as if his blood pressure had just shot through it. “To dinner?”
Jeff shrugged sheepishly. “I guess. Then she said I was never to come for her again.”
“Never to come—” Lucien broke off, momentarily blinded by the sudden anger. The stubborn little fool. Surely she wasn’t trying to break it off with him again. He reached for a reasonable tone. “Are you saying that she objected to traveling by limousine?”
Jeff cleared his throat. “I don’t think so.” He grimaced and blurted, “She said to tell you that she never wants to see you again, either.”
Lucien felt the words like hammer blows. They rained down on him from nowhere, as unexpected as demons popping up on his shoulders. It made no sense whatsoever. He tried to think. Surely she wasn’t exercised over Heston Witt. He hadn’t wanted to say anything about the incident in the bar, hadn’t wanted to hurt and embarrass her with the gossip being spread, but perhaps he should have made it clear that he meant to remove the man from their lives. Perhaps he should have made a lot of things clear, but then he thought he had. In fact, he was quite sure that the woman knew exactly how he felt about her. She had to, and now she thought she could just call a halt, send him on his way?
“We’ll see about that,” he growled, swinging out of the door and around the driver in one smooth movement. He jerked a hand angrily at the car as he strode toward it. “Go! Find her. Start where you left her. And be quick about it!”
He yanked open the door and dropped down into the seat, slamming himself inside. Jeff was just a heartbeat behind him, and in quick order they were speeding down the drive, the limo gliding over the pavement. His mind worked furiously, recalling actions and reactions. He remembered especially the words she’d shouted at him the night he’d followed her home.
I’m not twenty years old anymore…not a thing you can own! I’m not just some pretty convenience you can pick up on a whim… I have my own life…thoughts…goals! I won’t let you put me back into a box of obligation and…
He put a hand to his forehead, thinking how hard he’d worked to show her that her feelings and fears mattered to him, would always matter to him. Anger, disappointment, worry all combined into a volatile mix that churned in his gut until he felt ill by the time the limo screeched to a halt in front of her office building. He slammed out of the car and sprinted inside, opting for the stairs, too impatient for the elevator.
He broke out onto her floor, swept down the hall and pushed through the door to her office. Pete stood at the counter making a note. He looked up and smiled.
“Hello, Luc.”
“Where is she?” Lucien demanded.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out whom Lucien meant. “I think she’s still in her office.”
He started forward as if to get the door for Lucien, but in three strides Luc had left him behind. Thrusting open the door himself, he stalked inside.
Avis stood at the bank of windows that overlooked Sundance Square, her arms wrapped tightly about her middle. She didn’t turn when her door opened, didn’t lift her head or shift in any way, but she knew who was there and why.
“I don’t want to see you, Lucien. Please go away.”
The softness of her tone, the gentle way she spoke told him everything. She meant it. For some insane reason the woman actually meant it. And yet, she didn’t mean it at all. This was the paradox that was Avis Lorimer. He closed the door practically in Pete’s face.
“Liar,” he said harshly, and she spun, indignation spurring her.
“I’m not the liar!”
“You are implying that I am?”
She turned aside. “I called San Francisco.”
Mild shock jolted him. “And?”
“I spoke to Mrs. Tyrone.”
He frowned at that. “Mrs. Tyrone? The only Mrs. Tyrone at the moment is my mother.” Avis just looked at him. “You didn’t think…? Even for an instant…”
She smiled tightly, then shook her head. “I couldn’t be caught like that again. I’d have known this time.”
“This time?” he asked, and watched her take a deep breath.
“My husband, Kenneth, was married when we became involved. I didn’t know it,” she added quickly, “not until it was too late.”
He frowned, remembering what he’d heard in the bar. From home-wrecker to mistress… He hadn’t believed it then. He still didn’t. “Explain that. How was it too late?”
She shook her head, but then she said, “When the scandal broke, he lost everyt
hing: his position at the university, marriage, family, home, everything.”
Lucien digested that quickly. “And you thought it was your fault? He lied to you, and you thought it was your fault?”
“I allowed it to happen,” she admitted softly, “just as I’ve allowed what’s happened between you and me.”
Lucien rocked back on his heels. “It’s not the same thing. That was a different time and place and situation.”
She pinned him with angry eyes. “Don’t say I was too young to know what I was doing! I did know. I made a choice. The wrong one, and I lived with it, but not this time. I’m sorry, but not this time!”
He gaped at her. “Think what you are saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying,” she snapped. “I let myself be trapped once, but not again. Never again.”
“Trapped! How were you trapped?”
“I was all he had!” she cried. “Then he became ill. How could I leave? I couldn’t leave!”
“I am not Kenneth Lorimer!” he shouted, understanding all too clearly now. “How could you believe that I would trap you? How could I possibly?” He spread his arms, at a loss. “I love you, Avis.”
She put her hands over her ears and shook her head. “What difference does that make? You think you love me because I fit, that’s all.”
He walked across the room, rubbing his aching temples. “You say it like it’s nothing.” He dropped his hands. “Yes, you fit. We fit. Like hand and glove, we fit. Like we were made for each other.”
“Oh, yes, how perfect. Let’s see, first requirement, a compliant bed partner.”
He almost laughed. “I’m Lucien Tyrone. Not to sound arrogant, but I can find compliant bed partners by the thousand, in every country, all over the world, but I’m smart enough to know that it has less to do with me than with my bank account. I want much more than compliance, believe me.”
She glared at him resentfully, but went on. “Second requirement. Soft-spoken, gentle.”
“I’ve had my share of shrews,” he said unapologetically.
She ignored that, folding her arms. “A good mother?”
That was unexpected, but reasonable. “I expect so, yes.”
“With an understanding of the business world and its demands, particularly on you.”
“Obviously.”
She faced him squarely and said, very pointedly, “An experienced nurse.”
That did not compute. “A nurse?” He screwed up his face to show his confusion. “Do I look like I need a nurse? Let me assure you, I am perfectly healthy and expect to stay that way. But perhaps you want a doctor’s note? A physical examination? Absurd as that is, I’m willing to oblige you.”
“And what of your son?” she asked mildly.
He didn’t know what to say at first. Then he realized that she knew about Nicholas. It all clicked into place, and he understood exactly whom he had to thank for it. He would wring her neck, the meddling old banshee. He knew, too, that nothing he could say now would convince Avis that he had not courted her as a nursemaid for his poor dear boy. He was stymied. He should have told her already, explained the situation, but his son’s problems were a very tender spot for him, a constant ache. And he’d been afraid of her reaction.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Isn’t it?”
For a moment he could only stare at her as the enormity of this latest revelation settled over him. Could she really believe that she could only be wanted for what she could supply to others? Yes, apparently she could.
“Has no one else ever loved you?” he heard himself ask, but then he shook his head and began talking his way through it. “Kenneth must have loved you. What man wouldn’t?” She turned away, but he went on, trying to make her understand what he himself was only beginning to. “But selfishly, only for what you could bring to him. He didn’t care what it cost you or what you felt for him, and obviously he didn’t deserve you. He was all wrong for you, in fact, but the selfish bastard helped himself anyway, because he knew what a jewel he’d found. He trapped you. No doubt you’re right about that. He used your goodness and your sweetness to tie you to him. How else could he hope to hold you? Because you sure as hell didn’t love him.”
She bowed her head at that, and he stepped closer, pulling her into his arms. She resisted at first, but not very hard and not very long. He smiled when she melted against him. She used acquiescence like a weapon, pretending to give in when she never really yielded at all, but that was not what was happening here, what had been happening since he’d come to Texas. She didn’t seem to know it yet, but she wanted, needed to yield to him, to be loved by him. It was innate in her, as natural as her soft femininity and lush beauty, and yet beneath her feminine softness she was all steel, this woman, as strong as anyone he’d ever known. But what standards she held herself to! Inhuman standards. Unfair standards.
He tilted her face up to his. “I told you that I would learn all your secrets. I should have told you all of mine. Now I’ll have to show you.”
She frowned. “Show me what?”
He sighed, thinking of the lovely dinner that they would never eat, the ring she would not now choose, the completely decadent, deeply erotic manner in which he had intended to celebrate, but then he shook his head. It was her tune. He would play it as she demanded.
“We’re going to San Francisco. It’s time you met Nico and my mother.”
She shoved out of his embrace. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he insisted flatly. “It’s the only way to show you what being a permanent part of my life would really mean.”
She shook her head desperately. “I can’t go with you. I won’t.”
“You can, and you will. I mean it, Avis. If I have to bind you hand and foot and carry you out of here over my shoulder, you’re getting on that plane with me.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He would, but he didn’t say so, not while he still held a trump card. “I’ll pull the plug on TexWest.”
“Now?” she scoffed. “And lose millions? I don’t think so. You’re too good a businessman, Lucien.”
“This is more important than business,” he told her honestly. “You are more important than business, Avis. We are more important.” She blinked, almost persuaded. “And I have the millions to lose,” he added ruthlessly. “Do you? Does Pete?”
She glared at him, and her chin began to tremble. “That’s not fair.”
“No, it isn’t, but you force my hand.”
“It won’t change anything!” she insisted.
“Then why not go?” he countered. He didn’t have to point out how much she had to lose by refusing to do so.
She all but stamped her foot, and it both amused and grieved him to watch her struggle with her own sense of decorum. Dear heaven, if she could only understand how much he loved her!
“I’ll have to go home and pack a bag,” she grumbled.
“Not necessary. We won’t be gone that long, a night or two at most. We’ll pick up what little you need on the way.” He snagged her hand. “Come. The sooner we leave, the sooner you’ll see.”
“The sooner you’ll see,” she vowed, yanking free of him, “because I’m not going to change my mind, and you can’t make me.”
“No,” he agreed softly, “I can’t make you.”
“And I will pack a bag before we leave,” she insisted.
He sighed. They were going to argue again. Well, what was one more spat when he was already engaged in the fight of his life? It was the truth, but he knew without the slightest shred of doubt that if in the end he prevailed, it would be because she had finally, once and for all, yielded her stubborn, wounded heart.
He could not settle for anything less.
Chapter Fourteen
Avis could not believe what she was seeing. Terrace upon terrace spilled color onto the slope of the hillside. Flowers of every hue and variety ran riot alongside the lane, occasionally crossing i
t via enormous trellises placed at irregular intervals. The air here was truly “softer” than that in Texas, just as Lucien had described it, because moisture overlaid everything, as if the spray from a powerful waterfall had permeated not only the air but the light, as well as all substance. Even her skin had taken on a dewy feeling. Fortunately, the mildness of the temperature kept the effects of the humidity from overwhelming her lungs, but the scenery was almost too much to take in. In fact, ever since the limo had turned through the manned gate at the foot of the hill, she’d had a difficult time keeping her mouth closed as every bend in the curving road revealed an even more stunning vista. It was like living in a rainbow.
She looked at the man next to her. They had spoken little since they’d boarded his private jet, and she couldn’t help feeling that he was indulging himself in a protracted sulk. Perhaps she had been particularly dogged in convincing him that she did, indeed, have to pack a bag before she could accompany him to California, but he had coerced her into the trip, and it was only reasonable, after all. What difference did a couple of hours make? And how was she to know that a sudden thunderstorm in New Mexico would delay their flight program even further? Besides, arriving in the early morning seemed infinitely preferable to the dead of night to her, even if she had caught little sleep on the airplane.
Lucien had seemed to rest well enough. He should have, given that he’d slept in a real bed in the rear compartment of the jet, a comfort in which she had repeatedly declined to join him. It was no wonder then that, after availing himself of an electric razor kept on the luxuriously outfitted jet, he looked fresh as a daisy, if a little out of character in his loose clothing. She, on the other hand, wanted a hot bath and the judicious application of a can of hair spray. She could literally feel her hair curling, probably in an outlandishly untidy fashion, but as she kept reminding herself, she wasn’t here to impress anyone. She was doing what she had to do to protect her business and make her point, that any further association between them was impossible and unwanted. It just seemed grossly unfair that this place should be as appealing as its owner.
