by Vanessa Jaye
A date she had no intention of going on.
“Ridiculous,” she muttered, then turned into the library and flopped into one of the burgundy leather chairs next to the fireplace. The scents of wood oil, old books and her father’s cherry pipe always calmed her.
She lifted her feet and propped them on the matching ottoman, tapping her fingers against the well-cushioned arm of the chair. The library was one of her favorite rooms. Not only did it house all the classic books she’d loved to read as a child, but its dark, heavy paneling and scattering of comfortable chairs reminded her of her college literature department’s main hall.
She’d spent hours in there, reading and doing homework, always feeling a sense of home in the room. Plus, she’d loved the discussions they’d held there. From Chaucer to Shakespeare to the poetry of Keats and Thomas, she’d inhaled the classics.
But she’d only minored in English. Her major had been pre law, where she was, in her father’s often repeated words, destined to follow in her family’s footsteps and continue the great works of her ancestors, the Fairchilds.
Her father’s lecture still rung in her ears after all these years. Duty. Family. Law.
At times like this Lucy wished her mother hadn’t died when she was only six. Sometimes she yearned to have someone she could talk girl things with. She certainly couldn’t bring her personal problems to her father. She could only imagine the horrified look on her father’s face should she ever ask him for dating advice.
She sighed. At least her turmoil over family and business had momentarily taken her mind off preparing her summary rejection of Jake Dalton.
The doorbell rang and her gaze shot to the mantle clock. She was impressed that he was actually on time. She rose, dreading the way she was going to hurt his feelings, but knowing it was a necessity.
Lucy rounded the corner and gasped. Wonderful. Her father had gotten to the door first and was currently engaged in conversation with Jake. Like she needed this complication. She could have sworn her father said he had a late meeting this evening. What an unexpected and unpleasant surprise.
“I’m certain you must have the wrong house.” Raymond Fairchild stood stiffly at the door, no doubt mere seconds away from slamming it in Jake’s face.
“Not the wrong house,” Jake said. “Lucy wrote it on her card.”
She peeked around the library doorway and spied Jake handing her business card to her father, a wicked smile on his face. Jake wore jeans—nice, dark clean ones, and a polo shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and showed off his biceps. She sucked in a breath and let it out again on a sigh. What an incredibly handsome man.
“I don’t care where you say you got this card, young man. My daughter has a fiancé and she is not, I repeat, not, going out with you tonight, tomorrow, or ever.”
In typical Raymond Fairchild fashion, her father made to shut the door on Jake. Lucy surged past her momentary frozen state.
“Wait!” She flew out of the library and slid across the slick tiles, coming to a stop next to her father.
Graceful, thy name is not Lucy Fairchild.
How embarrassing.
Raymond peered down at her over his glasses, his blue eyes sharp as ever despite the fact he was now sixty-four years old. His formerly dark hair had turned white, which just made him look more elegant and refined than he had when he was younger.
She’d loved and worshiped him for as long as she had memories. But right now he irritated the heck out of her.
“I do not have a fiancé, Father.” She glared at him before turning her gaze to Jake. “I’m sorry, Jake. My father didn’t know you were coming. Please, come in.”
When her father didn’t budge, she backed against him and gave him a slight nudge with her hip before opening the door wide for Jake to step in.
“Thanks.” Jake swept a look from her father to her, then grinned.
Amused, was he? Well, she didn’t find this entire, awkward situation humorous at all.
“Lucille, please explain.”
Lucy set her shoulders back and inhaled sharply. “Nothing to explain, Father. I have a date.”
Raymond raised a patrician brow and scanned Jake before frowning back at her. “A date.”
“Yes.”
“With him.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I think not.”
“I think so.”
“Lucille.”
“Father.”
Jake’s snort interrupted what easily could have been an hour long war of very short sentences.
“You find something amusing?” her father asked Jake.
“Yeah. You two are funny as hell. You should take this show on the road.”
Lucy hid the smirk that threatened to erupt. And despite the fact she’d had her reasons for canceling their date, her father’s arrogant attitude toward Jake had her making an about turn in her decision.
“Let’s go, Jake.”
“Lucille, you are not going out with this man. I forbid it!”
She turned to her father, carefully controlling the fierce anger that threatened to boil into a sure-to-be-regretted-later eruption. “You do not get to tell me what to do, whom to see, or how to live my life. I’m an adult and capable of making my own choices. Goodnight, Father.”
She grabbed Jake’s arm and literally hauled him out the front door.
Jake opened the door on what looked to be a new, cherry red Chevy truck. Even had the back seat with the extra doors. And, my, was it tall. He held out his hand while she stepped onto the side rail and hoisted herself up.
“Lucille?” Jake asked with a chuckle as he hopped in on the other side.
“Oh, shut up,” she said, the adrenaline rush brought about by the argument with her father still zinging through her nerve endings.
He gunned the engine loud enough for her father to hear. It roared in her ears and vibrated her seat. Massive, powerful, the truck was like barely contained testosterone on wheels.
Which pretty much described Jake Dalton. He slipped the car into gear and peeled away from the curb, burning rubber in his wake. Lucy hid the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth as she spied her father’s rigid stance at the front window.
“Fiancé, huh?” he asked.
“No. No fiancé.”
“I guess we’re lucky you got out of there when you did.”
“Why?”
“You might have been grounded and we’d have had to cancel our date tonight.”
“Very funny.” She was not in the mood for laughs made at her expense, since she was mortified at her father’s behavior, and Jake wasn’t making it any easier. “Can we just drop it?”
“Why? Don’t you think it’s funny?”
“Not in the least.” Now she wished she hadn’t agreed to the date after all. It was clear he was going to tease her all evening.
“Lighten up, Lucille,” he said, accentuating her name.
“My name is Lucy.”
“Is it?”
“All right. It’s Lucille.”
“After?”
She turned to him with a frown. “After?”
“Yeah. Surely your parents wouldn’t name you that on a whim.”
Now he hated her name. Lovely. “What’s wrong with Lucille?”
“Nothing. It’s just not…”
“Not what?”
“I dunno. Doesn’t seem to suit you, I guess.”
“I was named after my grandmother.”
“Ah. Figured it was something like that. But I like the name Lucy. It fits you.”
“Fits? How?”
When they stopped at a red light, he reached out and grasped an escaping tendril of her uncontrollable hair, letting it slide slowly through his fingers. She shivered at the brush of his knuckles against her cheek. “Short and sassy. Like you.”
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