Seduce Me

by Cheryl Holt

“Then why would he act like this? He has to know I’ll never speak to him again. We’re back to battling over the money.”

  “This is his version of foreplay. He thinks you’ll be impressed by macho posturing.”

  “He could have just never called me. He didn’t have to be so mean.”

  “He’s a Merriweather,” Gracie pointed out. “Cruelty is in his blood.”

  “Bryce and Peanut will be dragged into the middle of any public fight. Why would he want that?”

  “He’s a man, and they’re all fools. It probably never occurred to him that there would be consequences for the kids.”

  “Their lives will be splashed across the tabloids.”

  The phone rang again and they both grimly stared at it.

  “Should I answer?” Gracie asked.

  “No,” Faith said, but Gracie went over and picked it up anyway.

  She listened for a moment, then barked, “No, you may not.” A pause. “Because she doesn’t wish to talk to you, and even if she did, I wouldn’t let her.” A second pause. “Well, I have a gun, and if I see you out in my yard, I’ll shoot you with it.”

  She slammed down the receiver.

  “Who on earth was that?” Faith inquired.

  “Lucas Merriweather.”

  “He had the nerve to call me?”

  “He wants to see you. He wants to explain.”

  “I’d rather have all my teeth pulled without an anesthetic.”

  “My thought exactly.”

  “He wouldn’t dare show up here, would he?”

  “If he does,” Gracie said, “he’ll be sorry he tangled with me.”

  The phone rang yet again, and Gracie unplugged it. “We don’t need to have that turned on.”

  Faith peeked out the window. Another news van had joined the first.

  Would she become a hostage in her own home? Would she have to run a gauntlet of microphones and cameras whenever she walked outside?

  She staggered over to a chair and slumped down.

  “My heart’s broken,” she said. “I hardly knew him, and my heart’s broken anyway.”

  “Be glad you didn’t have time to grow too attached, honey. You’ll get over him in a hurry.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Especially after you consider what an ass he is. You won’t be sad. You’ll be very, very angry.”

  “I’m already there.”

  “Good. Now let’s have breakfast. I refuse to let Lucas Merriweather ruin my day.”

  Faith gaped at her. Could Gracie really get over it—just like that? Faith couldn’t. She and Lucas had had such a potent connection. Would she never see him again? It didn’t seem possible, yet what other ending could there be?

  “Go ahead and eat without me,” she told Gracie. “I’m not feeling very well.”

  She trudged out, close to weeping and not even sure why she was bereft. His true character had been revealed. He was a snake in the grass.

  She should have known better, but she’d been lured in by that handsome face, by that charm and charisma. Too distraught for words, she climbed to her room and locked herself in, wondering if she would ever come out.

  * * * *

  “No comment.”

  Lucas pushed past a reporter, but another mike instantly appeared. How many stinking news stations were here?

  The street in front of Faith’s house was lined with vans. Reporters and their crews were hovering, waiting for something to happen.

  By showing up, he’d certainly given them a scoop. Not that they’d needed one. He shouldn’t have driven to Boulder—Gracie had been very clear in telling him not to—but he never listened to women, and he wasn’t about to start.

  “Lucas! Lucas!” A skinny blond reporter hustled up.

  “Beat it,” he growled.

  She was undaunted. “What are you doing? Are you serving papers on her? Are you here to seize the house?”

  The idiotic questions brought him stumbling to a halt.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Give me something I can use. Our readers are fascinated. How did she trick him into marrying her? Was he in possession of his faculties? How would you describe his mental state at the time of his death?”

  Lucas rolled his eyes. How would they react if he admitted he hadn’t seen his grandfather since he was a small boy, that he had no clue as to Harold’s mental faculties or anything else.

  Other reporters circled, trying to hear his every word, and he demanded, “Don’t you people have somewhere more important to be?”

  “What’s your problem, Merriweather?” a thuggish man asked. “You’re the one who set your dogs on her.”

  “I didn’t. I have no idea where that story came from, but I deny it. I can officially say that neither I—nor my family—has any quarrel with Ms. Benjamin.”

  “That’s not what your brother told me,” someone said.

  Lucas didn’t respond. He wasn’t about to get into a debate over Dustin’s allegations. The situation was already hideous, and he wouldn’t exacerbate it.

  “Be careful what you print or say,” Lucas warned. “If I am slandered, or if Ms. Benjamin is misrepresented, you’ll answer to me.”

  He shoved through the mob and marched up her sidewalk, fervently wishing he hadn’t come.

  When Gracie had hung up on him, he’d been thoroughly annoyed, so he’d jumped in his car and raced to Boulder. He’d never considered that they might be under siege, but he should have guessed.

  What tale could be juicier than a beautiful young woman swindling a doddering, elderly man out of millions of dollars?

  Cameras filmed his every stride. If Faith refused to let him in, the entire, humiliating episode would be captured on tape. But it was too late to turn around. His retreat would be captured too. He couldn’t decide what to do except keep moving forward.

  He hurried up her steps and knocked. He rang the bell. He knocked again.

  She had to know who was on her stoop, who was pounding so vehemently. The fact that she was ignoring him, that she would let him dangle in the wind with all the reporters smirking and laughing, lit his temper on fire.

  “Faith, dammit!” he muttered. “Open up! Right now!”

  Footsteps stomped toward him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The door was jerked wide, and Faith was there.

  “Stop pounding on my door!” she hissed.

  “If you’d answer like a normal, courteous human being, I wouldn’t have to make all this noise.”

  “How dare you come here. What do you want?”

  “We have to talk.”

  “I’d rather be boiled in hot oil than talk to you.”

  “Could we discuss this inside?”

  “No. Go away.”

  She started to close the door in his face, but he was much larger than she was, and he blustered his way in. He yanked the door from her grasp and slammed it, shutting out all the nonsense in her yard. Suddenly, it was very quiet, and they were alone. They squared off like a pair of boxers about to battle.

  She was angry? Well he was too.

  Did she think he enjoyed all this chaos? He’d been her biggest champion. He had defended her to his family, to his lawyers, and this was the thanks he got?

  Was he supposed to ignore Dustin’s tape?

  Dustin was out for blood, eager to have her arrested, to have her bank accounts frozen until Harold’s estate could be adjudicated.

  If he succeeded, she’d be sucked into a legal black hole that would take years to resolve. Who would care for Peanut and Bryce? What about Grace? Lucas figured she was retired. How would she support herself? How would she support the children?

  “A press conference, Lucas?” she sneered. “You had to hold a press conference? I had to learn about it from a reporter.”

  “It was my brother Dustin.”

  “Oh that certainly makes me feel better.”

  She walked to a table in the corner, grabbed some papers off it, and threw them at h
im. As they drifted to the floor, he could see they were copies of the photos from Dustin’s private detective.

  “I downloaded those,” she charged. “You posted them on the internet!”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “Isn’t it interesting how there was a photographer hiding in the bushes during our date? How he captured my every move and glance?”

  “I didn’t know he was there. I swear it.”

  “I don’t believe you. How much did you pay him?”

  “Dustin hired him and paid him.” He was blaming the whole situation on Dustin. Even to his own ears, he sounded weak and ridiculous.

  “Silly me,” she raged. “I assumed our date was completely innocent. I should have guessed you had spies following me.”

  Her fists were clenched, her body trembling. She oozed disdain, and on observing it, he was incensed.

  He was the one who’d been wronged. Not her.

  “I don’t need all this attitude from you,” he said.

  She gasped. “Attitude? Let me tell you something, mister: This isn’t attitude. This is pure, animalistic, unadulterated hatred. Get out of my house.”

  “Not until you explain yourself to me.”

  “Explain myself! For the past five years, I was here, taking care of your grandfather.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I cleaned up after him, I helped him, I nursed him when he was ill. I was his friend.” She scoffed with disgust. “Where were you, Mr. High-and-Mighty?”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “This is the subject.” She slapped a palm over her heart. “I was the one he trusted. I was the one he could count on.”

  “Then what am I supposed to think about this?”

  He reached into his jacket and brought out the tape recorder. With a furious click, he jammed his thumb on the play button. Her voice filled the room.

  Who wants a couple of tiny diamonds? You know I only like men who shower me with millions.

  Like Harold?

  Yes. What are a few paltry diamonds when I can have the whole bank account?

  Her eyes were wide with dismay, and he scrutinized her, trying to figure out what he was witnessing. Was she surprised at being taped? Guilty at being caught? Angry at being tricked? All of those things?

  “That’s me,” she muttered, frowning, “talking to Angela.”

  “It certainly is.”

  “Where did you…how did you…”

  She stammered to a halt and looked around the living room, struggling to remember where and when the conversation had occurred.

  Realization settled in, and she accused, “It was recorded right here in my house. In my kitchen—while I was cooking supper.”

  “So you don’t deny it.”

  “Of course I don’t deny it.”

  She stared at him, her derision clear. “You wired Angela. You deliberately sent her to tape me.”

  “It was her idea.”

  “You’re blaming her for this?”

  “Not blaming, just saying that I have evidence of you bragging about how badly you treated my grandfather. I’m willing to give you a chance to explain yourself, but it has to be now.”

  She shook her head, appearing to be in shock. “You entered into a devil’s bargain with my sister and bribed her to betray me.”

  “Not me. My brother.”

  “Your brother again.” She snorted. “It’s so convenient how you keep dragging his name into it.”

  “It doesn’t matter who’s responsible. What matters are your words.” He pointed to the recorder. “Are they true?”

  “You want to know if I abused your grandfather?”

  “I thought I knew you—”

  “I thought I knew you too,” she shot back.

  “—but now, I’m not sure what to think.”

  “What to think?”

  She grew very quiet, and she seemed to deflate, as if his allegations had caused some of her life force to leak out. There had always been a hint of mischief in her gaze, a spark of merriment, but he watched it extinguish. Something cold and hard replaced it.

  “Go away, Lucas. Go away and don’t come back.”

  “Tell me the truth!”

  “I won’t debate this with you.”

  “We’re not debating. I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

  He stepped nearer, feeling the energy spark between them, feeling their potent physical attraction ignite. The depth of his fury fueled his passion. How could he be so livid, but desire her more than ever?

  “I admit it,” she fumed. “I admit it all, you son of a bitch.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then why are you here? You don’t believe me if I deny it, and you don’t believe me if I admit it. What do you want from me?”

  He grabbed her forearms and gave her a light shake.

  “I want you to be the person I was hoping you were.”

  “And who is that?”

  “Someone who is kind and generous and funny and loyal.”

  “Didn’t you hear? That woman doesn’t exist. Isn’t that your opinion? You won’t find her in this house, so there’s no reason for you to stay and keep wishing.”

  He pulled her to him so she was raised off the floor, her toes brushing the carpet.

  “Last chance Faith,” he advised her. “Last chance to confess what went on with Harold.”

  “Screw you.”

  “You’re drowning and I’m throwing you a rope. Why won’t you take it?”

  “I don’t want you to rescue me, you idiot. I never wanted that.”

  “Do you have any idea”—he was raging, shouting—“of how relentless my brother can be?”

  “I’m not afraid of him,” she shouted in return.

  “You should be! Give me something to fight him with. Give me something to prove that his suspicions are wrong.”

  “Why would I care what he suspects? Tell him whatever you like about me.”

  She wiggled out of his grasp, but she was off balance, and she stumbled into a nearby shelf. A vase of flowers tipped off it and shattered with a resounding crash.

  Footsteps thundered overhead, and Bryce barreled down the stairs.

  “Faith! Faith!” he called. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m all right,” she replied, but she was breathing hard, her color high.

  Lucas stood across from her, in no better condition. As Bryce studied them, Lucas grew worried, then ashamed.

  It was obvious he and Faith had been quarreling, so his son was seeing him at his very worst.

  “I’m sorry Bryce.” Mortification flooded through him. “Faith and I were having a disagreement.”

  Bryce rushed over to Faith and put his arm around her waist. The move was affectionate and protective. They were a unit, they belonged together, and he—Lucas—was an outsider who could never be joined with them in any meaningful way.

  The realization was disturbing on so many levels. He’d had so many plans for a future that included them. He’d built whole new worlds in his head where they were front and center. He’d never been part of their small family, but he felt the separation like a blow.

  Bryce gazed at Faith, killing Lucas when he asked, “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, no,” Faith insisted. “We were upset, but it’s no big deal. I’m fine.”

  Bryce stared at Lucas and, seeming much more mature than his ten years, he said, “I think you should go.”

  Lucas wanted to plead his case, to defend himself, but they were glaring at him as if he had the plague and they might catch it.

  “He was just leaving,” Faith said.

  Lucas paused, yearning for a more gracious exit. “We’re not finished discussing this.”

  “Yes, we are. We absolutely are.”

  She walked over to the door, Bryce dogging her heels. She opened it and pointed outside to where the members of the press were craning their necks, trying to see what was
happening.

  He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t continue to fight with her while Bryce was watching. Bryce’s expression was already one of scorn and distrust. Lucas couldn’t make it become even more contemptuous.

  He spun on his heel and stormed out.

  * * * *

  Angela punched the numbers into her cell phone, listening as the robotic operator’s voice intoned, “The number you dialed is not in service.”

  Dustin had given it to her during the brief, glorious week they’d spent together. After she’d provided him with the recording of her conversation with Faith, he’d promised to call, but he hadn’t, and she’d waited and waited and waited. Finally, she’d swallowed her pride, and she had called him.

  He’d claimed it was his private line, the special one he only shared with special friends. She’d believed him. She still believed him. He couldn’t have tricked her. He couldn’t have been lying.

  She was on the sidewalk in downtown Denver, outside the skyscraper where the headquarters for Merriweather Industries was located. She peered to the top floors.

  He had to be up there. He was rich and important and busy. He probably hadn’t had time to contact her, and she was convinced that—if she could talk to him—everything would be fine.

  A big window ran across the front of the building, and she peeked at her reflection. She had to admit that she looked great.

  Her credit card wasn’t quite maxed out, and she’d charged lots of stuff for their trip to Los Angeles. She’d had her hair lightened and had bought several outfits, shorts and sandals and some billowy tops that she hoped would be appropriate for California.

  She’d even purchased a yellow sundress, which she was currently wearing. She appeared more shapely, prettier, not so gaunt and tired.

  Mustering her courage, she entered the lobby. There was a security desk, and she had to sign in and show her ID. Since she didn’t have an appointment, she was afraid the guard would turn her away, but he didn’t try to stop her.

  She went to the elevator and pushed the button for the twentieth floor. Her stomach tickled as the doors shut and the carriage swooped upward. In a matter of seconds, she was in the reception area.

  The place was very elegant, very stylish, like a design you might see in a magazine. And it was very quiet. There was a receptionist at a large, fancy glass desk, but no one else was around.