by Cheryl Holt
Lucas clasped her nipple, twisting it with finger and thumb, and she purred with pleasure.
"I never took you for a coward," he said.
"I'm not."
"What are you afraid of?"
"Not you."
He kissed her again, as he continued to play with her nipple, and she couldn't resist what he was offering. He was electrifying, and she would participate in whatever game he instigated—at least for the moment.
Gripping her waist, he shifted on the seat and lifted her up and over, so she was on her knees and straddling his lap. With her crotch suddenly pressed to his, she could feel his erection. He was hard for her and wasn't ashamed to let her know it.
Her breasts were bared, and he stroked the soft mounds until she was breathless with anticipation. Then he blazed a trail down her neck, her chest, to suck on her eager nipple.
For an eternity, he bit and laved and nibbled until she was begging him to stop. She was in trouble, overwhelmed to the point where she couldn't remember what she was doing or why. Alarm bells began to chime.
If she wasn't careful, they'd have sex—in his car, with the chauffeur taking furtive glances in the rearview mirror. Is that what she wanted?
The resounding answer was no.
She mustered the energy to yank away.
"Wait, wait," she anxiously pleaded.
"No. I want this, and you want this."
"Please, just…wait."
She wiggled off his lap. Feeling stripped raw and overexposed, she huddled in the corner, her face buried in the soft leather.
What was wrong with her? She'd slept with men before, and she'd thought she was ready to sleep with him too. But obviously, she had some issues to deal with first.
"Hey." He laid a warm palm on her back.
"I'm okay." She tugged at the straps of her dress, covering her breasts.
"What happened?"
"You…happened." She waved a hand, unable to describe her reluctance. "I guess I'm in over my head."
He chuckled. "You drive me wild."
"I'm glad."
"When I'm around you, I can't control myself."
She figured he used that line all the time, but she didn't complain. It was nice to hear him admit it—even if it wasn't true.
"I wasn't planning on having sex with you tonight," he claimed.
"I wasn't planning on it either."
"Especially not in my car. I got carried away."
"So did I."
"I don't know what it is about you, but…"
"But what?" she asked when he couldn't finish his sentence.
"I don't know," he repeated.
He appeared baffled by her. Was she an enigma? Was she a mystery? She doubted it. He was too smooth with women, and there were no secrets he couldn't unravel.
She realized that the car had stopped, and she peered out the window. They were parked outside her house.
"I better go in," she said.
"Not just yet."
"I need some breathing room."
"I want to see you again," he insisted.
"I have to think about it. I'm not sure if I should."
"Of course you should. There is a hot attraction brewing between us. I won't let you ignore it."
"It's all too much."
"How could I make it easier?"
Be a normal person. Be someone else. Be someone more like me.
She'd told herself that she could flirt with him and suffer no regrets, but now that they'd started in, she was so confused. She'd like to have sex with him but was fairly certain it would be a disaster. There could be no good conclusion, and she wouldn't pretend there might be.
He reached into his coat and withdrew a business card. It contained only his name, Lucas, with a phone number printed underneath. She supposed when he gave it to a woman, he didn't need to supply any other information.
"Call me tomorrow," he said.
"I might."
"Call me," he repeated more firmly.
"All right," she grumbled.
She'd have to call him. If she didn't, he'd call her, and he'd keep on and on, until she relented. He wasn't used to being denied, wasn't the sort of man to be put off.
"This is crazy," she stated.
"Yes, it is, but we're going to run with it and see where it ends."
"I don't even like you," she felt compelled to say.
"I didn't think I liked you either but I might be changing my mind."
He grinned a seductive, delicious grin that made her pulse race.
"You're insane," she said.
"You are too."
He kissed her nose, her cheek, and she let him. But if he kissed her on the lips again, there was no telling what she might do. She grabbed the door handle and stepped into the street. Her sudden exit rattled the driver, and he leapt out and hurried around to assist her.
She should have turned and left, but the interior light was on, and it bathed Lucas in a golden glow. She wondered if it might be the last time she'd ever see him, and she wanted to remember him just as he was, in his tailored suit, gracefully lounged on the leather seat of his expensive car.
"Let me walk you to the door," he offered.
"I'm fine."
He gazed at her, and there were so many unspoken words swirling that she was practically dizzy. She was an instant away from jumping into the car, from ordering him to take her somewhere, anywhere, and never bring her back.
"Tomorrow," he finally said.
"Yes, tomorrow," she agreed, not sure if she meant it.
She whirled away and rushed inside.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Did you get the photos?"
"Yes."
Dustin Merriweather walked over to where his sister, Brittney, was sitting on the couch and dropped them in her lap.
They were in the Denver mansion, talking privately. Neither Lucas nor their mother had been invited to participate in the discussion.
Their mother hadn't been apprised, simply because Dustin couldn't stand her and wouldn't pretend they had a relationship worth pursuing.
As to Lucas, while he assumed they were united in their decision on how to deal with Faith Benjamin, he wasn't always right. Because he was the oldest, he thought his ideas should take precedence, but when a situation called for ruthlessness or malice, he was completely useless.
His main problem was that he could be sympathetic. He acted tough and callous, but Dustin and Brittney knew the truth. When they were children, he was the one who dragged home stray puppies, who rescued injured birds. Cold, aloof Jacquelyn never allowed them to have a pet, but Lucas had continued to try.
His obstinacy, combined with his occasional bursts of compassion, made him a worthless ally. If Faith Benjamin fed him a sob story, and he bought any of it, he'd start to feel sorry for her. He wouldn't be able to do what was necessary to resolve the issue.
During the family meeting a few days earlier, Dustin had agreed to let Lucas proceed, but Dustin was proceeding too. Not that Lucas needed to be informed. Dustin was hedging his bets and not betting on Lucas. If Lucas failed with Ms. Benjamin, Dustin would step in and handle her himself.
Brittney was sifting through the pictures, and as Dustin settled next to her on the sofa, she peered over at him.
"She looks different than I imagined she would," Brittney said.
She held up a clandestine shot of Faith Benjamin, one of dozens snapped by the private investigator Dustin had hired. She was decked out in a slinky black cocktail dress, having just exited a restaurant where she'd had supper with Lucas.
The detective had been following Benjamin, hoping to glean some relevant facts, when Lucas had arrived in a limousine to take her out on a date.
Funny how Lucas hadn't mentioned it.
"What were you expecting her to look like?" he asked his sister.
"More…low class maybe? More rough or common? She's very striking, very pretty."
"Yes, she is."
"Lucas seems absolutely entranced."
"I wouldn't read anything into it. You know what he's like. He smiles that way at every woman."
"He hasn't breathed a word about their date," Brittney pointed out.
"No, he hasn't."
"What do you suppose that means?"
"He doesn't want us to know about it."
"And we can't ask him, or he'll find out we're spying on him."
"He wouldn't take the news too well."
"No, he definitely wouldn't."
They both chuckled, and Brittney studied the photos again.
"I can see why Harold was attracted to her," she said.
"Attraction had nothing to do with it. She confused and tricked him. She probably wrote the damn will and tortured him until he signed it."
They'd had experts review Harold's signature, and it appeared to be genuine.
"Will we get the money back? Tell me what you really think."
"We'll get it, but we have to be relentless. We can't let Lucas screw it up. Pictures like this will help. They paint her in a bad light."
"How? She's stunning."
"A good lawyer will twist it all out of proportion. She's flaunting herself like a millionaire, wasting her dead husband's fortune. Or maybe she's a shark, starting in on the next generation of Merriweather. First she duped the grandfather, now the grandson."
Brittney laughed. "People who are acquainted with Lucas would never buy it. He can't be seduced. Not by someone like her. His tastes run a bit more…exotic."
"We're not shooting for the truth here. We're out to ruin her."
"So…whatever works?" Brittney inquired.
"Yes," Dustin replied. "Whatever works."
* * *
"Did you sleep with him?"
"Honestly, Gracie, it's only eight o'clock. What a question to ask so early in the morning."
Grace chuckled and sipped her coffee. "Does that mean the answer is no?"
"That means," Faith snapped, "that it's none of your business."
They were in the kitchen, Bryce and Peanut still in bed, and Grace's curiosity was raging.
"You didn't, huh?" she sniffed. "At least tell me he tried. I hate to consider that you spent cash on such a terrific dress and he barely noticed."
"He noticed," Faith grumbled.
"And…?"
"And he wanted to, all right? Give it a rest."
"No. You know I have no life. I have to live vicariously through you."
"Well, nothing ever happens to me, so if that's your plan, you'll die of boredom before too long."
"Nothing happens to you? Are you kidding me? You're young, sexy, and beautiful, and now, you're rich too. You just went out with one of the premier bachelors in the world, and I'm ready to hear salacious details—the juicier the better."
"It wasn't all that great," Faith claimed.
"Liar. I can see in your eyes that you're on fire for him. What's the problem? You chickened out?"
"Yes." Faith sighed and pulled up a chair, her elbows on the table. "I'm such a wuss."
"I know, honey," Grace commiserated.
"We were in the car, and I was sitting on his
lap—"
"Oh, this is getting good."
"—and I couldn't go through with it."
"But he wanted to?" Grace asked.
"Definitely."
"When you backed out, what was his reaction?"
"He was very polite. He's expecting me to call him today."
"Will you?"
"I don't know," Faith groaned.
She looked miserable, as if she'd had a root canal rather than a date with handsome, macho Lucas Merriweather.
She'd always been too serious and needed to lighten up. Despite how hard Grace had worked to persuade her to expand her horizons, she was too responsible, too dependable.
Grace had encouraged her dinner with Lucas merely to discover what might happen. Faith could use a little excitement, and Lucas was the exact type to give it to her. Luckily, he was his father's son in nearly every way, so he was terribly spoiled.
The more Faith pushed him away, the more adamant his seduction would become. She didn't have the fortitude to keep him at bay. She was too nice.
Lucas would wear her down, and once she relented, they'd both be happier for it. The trick was to convince her it was okay to have sex with him. She always overanalyzed every detail.
The doorbell rang, and they frowned, wondering who it could be.
Faith walked to the living room to find out. When she returned a few minutes later, she was holding a huge bouquet of pink roses and a small, gift-wrapped box.
"Who are they from?" Grace asked. "Do we need to guess, or do we already know?"
"We already know. What is he thinking?"
"He's simply advising you that he enjoyed himself last night."
"Well, so did I, but not enough that I'd send him presents first thing in the morning."
"He's a man; he's wired differently than you."
Faith passed the flowers to Grace, then pulled the card from the envelope.
"'Wear these for me'," Faith read, "'the next time we go out'. It's signed just with the letter L."
"Open the box." Grace nodded to it.
Faith tore at the paper and lifted the lid to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. There was a diamond stud, then a short gold chain with a cluster of tinier diamonds at the bottom. They were chic and versatile and could be worn with a formal dinner dress or with jeans at a party.
"Very nice," Grace said.
"Diamond earrings?" Faith scowled. "He can't give me diamond earrings!"
"Why not?"
"I hardly know him."
"So?"
"I don't want such an extravagant gift."
"Is he supposed to be a mind reader?"
"Yes. I'm just…me, and he's Lucas Merriweather. Where would I wear diamonds?"
"Wherever you want."
"The man is insane," Faith huffed, "and I'm sending them back."
"You are not."
Grace took them out of the box and went to the mirror on the fridge. She held one by her ear and checked out how it looked.
"If you don't want them," Grace said, "I'll keep them."
"Keep what?"
Grace turned as Angela staggered in. She'd stayed over, having been too drunk to drive the previous evening. Her hair was a mess, her eyes red-rimmed. She lurched to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup.
"Lucas Merriweather," Grace explained, "gave Faith a pair of diamond earrings."
"Get out of town!"
"Seriously." Grace dangled them for Angela to see.
"That is so unfair," Angela grouched. "Why don't you want them, Faith?"
"I want them," Faith insisted. "I just don't want them to be from him."
"If you're not interested in him, Faith," Angela replied, "I'll take him."
"I'm fine, thank you very much."
Angela trudged out, and Grace watched her go. She thought of both girls as her daughters, but she'd never understood either one. She'd often pondered the old argument about nature versus nurture. They were so different, and biology had to be the determining factor in their personalities. She'd certainly like to meet their mothers!
As Angela's footsteps faded, Faith plopped down in her chair again. She appeared dazed and bewildered.
"What's wrong, honey?" Grace asked. "Don't you like him?"
"I like him very much. Too much, probably."
"Then why worry so much? You fuss over everything; you always have. For once, throw caution to the wind."
"I'm afraid, Gracie."
"Of what?"
"Of getting my heart broken."
"With him, it will be a one-night stand. There won't be time for your heart to be involved."
"You don't know what he's like. It wouldn't be for only one night."
"So much the better. Live a little. Have a fling. What's stopping you?"
"It's no
t that easy."
"Why isn't it? He's generous with his lovers. Maybe you'd score a trip to Rio or Maui out of the deal. You've never been anywhere. Maybe he'd take you. Imagine how much fun you'd have."
Faith shook her head. "I'm not like you, Gracie. I couldn't sleep with him a few times and call myself lucky."
"Why couldn't you?"
"I might begin to like him more than I should. Then it would be over, and I'd be all alone."
It was Faith's constant lament: she'd be alone. Did she recollect being a tiny baby, being left at that fire station? The poignant event had to be buried somewhere deep in her psyche, because it frequently haunted her.
"Everybody's alone in the end," Grace murmured. "You'd get through it, and you'd have a great memory of him after it was over."
"I don't want a memory. I want a flesh and blood man."
"They don't come any more 'flesh and blood' than him. Go after him! Let him use and pamper you for as long as you can persuade him to have you."
"I'm disgusted to admit that I'd like that very much. I must be the gold digger he accuses me of being."
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with reaching out and taking what you want."
"Spoken like a true mercenary."
"I never claimed to be a saint," Grace said, "and I never tried to be. It was always more enjoyable to be a bit naughty."
Faith stood and went over to the window. For an eternity, she stared into the backyard, her gaze on the mountains off in the distance.
Finally, she glanced over her shoulder. "If I jumped into this with him, would you think less of me?"
"I'd think less of you if you didn't."
"I want this, Gracie."
"Good for you."
"He just makes me feel so…so…" She threw up her hands, unable to explain. "I can't describe it."
"Which tells me it will be wonderful." Grace tamped down a sly grin. "You remember how carefully Harold kept tabs on Lucas."
"He was obsessed about it."
"He thought you and Lucas had a lot in common, that you might get along."
"Harold said that?"
"He'd be happy to know you were with Lucas—even if it was for a short affair."
Grace was playing dirty. Faith had loved Harold very much. He'd been the grandfather she'd never had. He'd taken them in during a rough period when they'd had nowhere to go, and they'd never had to leave. He'd given her Peanut and Bryce to watch over forever. If Harold decided that a certain path was appropriate for Faith, she'd decide it was too.
