The Tycoon Meets His Match

by Barbara Benedict

  Where had it come from, this sudden need, this overwhelming hunger for him? And how in the world was she supposed to fight it?

  Think Lucie, she told herself, breaking their gaze with an inward groan.

  His was more audible as he gestured toward the windshield. “We have company.”

  Following his outstretched arm, Trae saw a large, swirling cloud of dust steadily approaching. As she watched, a convoy of battered pickups emerged out of the cloud, the lead truck holding a dozen or so day workers in its bed. Rattling ominously, it whipped to a stop ten yards in front of them, while one by one, the other trucks parked in front of the varied trailers.

  “Maybe they can tell us what happened here,” Rhys said, getting out of the car.

  Unable to move, Trae watched him walk up to the group now spilling out of a rust-red Silverado. Amazing, how Rhys could so quickly recapture his poise, while here she sat, still weak in the knees, a victim of overloaded senses.

  She should have had a second cup of coffee, she decided as she forced herself out of the car. She was never at her best this early in the morning.

  Approaching the men, she could hear the driver, a hefty middle-aged man with bad teeth and an accent reminiscent of someone from the Appalachians, explaining that they’d had quite a little brouhaha yesterday. Mr. Boudreaux, the producer, had gotten into it big-time with his financial backer. Seemed the progress of the film, not to mention its quality, wasn’t quite up to Mr. Carino’s expectations.

  Still and all, Boudreaux might have scraped by, if not for the sexy little blonde he’d had with him. The princess, they’d been calling her on the set, but only when the boss wasn’t listening. Crazy protective, Boudreaux was. Wouldn’t let a sand flea touch his woman’s lily-white fingers. Got so he was spending more time in his trailer listening to her than he was out on the set. And apparently, word of this got back to Lou Carino, who pulled the plug and just like that, everybody was out of a job. He and the boys were here today to break down the site and haul away the trailers.

  Thanking the driver, Rhys ushered Trae back to the car, obviously lost in thought as he automatically opened the driver-side door for her. Standing so close to him, aware that she might as well be miles away, Trae felt as if each and every one of her nerve endings were on fire. It was all she could do not to reach out and touch his shoulder.

  She had to stop reacting to his nearness. It put her at a distinct disadvantage.

  Sliding into the driver’s seat, she cranked the ignition. “So Bobby got fired,” she said, determined to prove she could be as calm and impersonal as he. “No big shock there. He never seems to hold a job for more than a month.”

  “This is great,” he muttered, still ignoring her. “Just great. Now what the hell are we supposed to do?”

  Glancing over at him, noticing his stiff posture and clenched fists, she realized how much he’d been counting on this being the end of it.

  And given his current temper, he hadn’t listened to word one of her little lecture. The man would go to his grave striving to gain control.

  “Obviously, we have to follow them,” she said tersely, shifting into Reverse with more force than necessary. “Which means figuring out where they’d go next.” Whipping the car around, making a dust cloud of her own, she squealed back onto the highway. “I can’t imagine Bobby staying here in Las Vegas, and he certainly can’t show his face again in Los Angeles.”

  “That sure narrows it down.”

  It was her turn to ignore him. In truth, she had her own ideas about their whereabouts but she wasn’t ready to share them. Her guess was that Bobby would head home to lick his wounds, dragging Lucie to New Orleans with him.

  But before she shared that tidbit with Rhys, and opened herself to further argument, she meant to be sure of her facts. “I think we should do what you suggested earlier,” she told him. “Find that shopping center, check our messages. And maybe we can find a bite to eat.”

  That perked him up a bit. “Food would be good. And I seem to remember a clothing store. I wouldn’t mind new pants and maybe a shirt. Something clean, and a little less Beach Boy.”

  Trae had to laugh at his tone of disgust.

  Nor did he get any happier once they reached the shopping center and he discovered his only choice for clothing was a Western-wear store called Dudes R Us. Stalling until after their breakfast of eggs, bacon and mouthwatering biscuits, he finally settled for a pair of jeans, a red plaid flannel shirt and work boots. Leaving him to change into the new outfit, Trae hurried off to find a pay phone.

  She had a message from her brother Vinny, warning that the strike was ongoing, and two calls from her mother, demanding she get in touch with them. “Not now, Ma,” Trae mumbled into the phone, but she froze once she heard Lucie’s tremulous voice, her “Why don’t you ever answer your phone?” eerily reminiscent of the previous messages from her mother.

  But as Lucie went on, betraying her fear and confusion, Trae felt an uncomfortable tension knot up in her throat. It became painfully clear that Lucie was having second thoughts about running away. And, as usual, was counting on Rhys to come to the rescue.

  She’s changing her mind again, Trae thought uneasily as she replayed the disjointed message. Picturing Lucie, clinging to the receiver in some dark, deserted roadside pay phone, Trae could see how her friend might lose her resolve. Compared to the none-too-reliable Bobby, of course Rhys would look like a prince. Given the circumstances, it would be easy for any female to convince herself that she did indeed love Rhys enough to get married.

  And right now, Lucie was too upset, too vulnerable, to make such a life-altering decision.

  Which was why Trae was here, she must never forget, baking under the scorching Nevada sun in this awful pink running suit, after traipsing from coast to coast and all points in between. Her only purpose, her only reason for this quest, was to make sure Lucie didn’t get railroaded into a marriage she’d regret for the rest of her life.

  But did that include developing feelings for the groom-to-be herself?

  Trae glanced over her shoulder at Dudes R Us. Rhys would be coming through that door any moment and once he heard this message, Lucie’s fate would be sealed. He’d coax and cajole and bully until the poor girl agreed to be his wife.

  Just then, a computerized voice came on to describe her options. Replay. Save. Or…

  Delete the message, Trae’s inner voice told her. If she did, Rhys would never know about it. But as her finger hovered over the number-three button, she could all but hear her mother admonish, “Nice girls don’t screen calls.”

  Just what she needed, another battle with her conscience.

  But this wasn’t about her, she insisted again. It was about Lucie, and the man’s bullying was the last thing her friend needed. Besides, if Lucie wanted Rhys knowing what she was thinking, she’d have dialed his number instead. Trae was the one she’d called. Trae was the one she trusted, the one who would help her figure this whole marriage business out.

  It wouldn’t be easy, though, Trae realized as she pressed number three and hung up the receiver. For one thing, it meant keeping secrets, something Trae had never been any good at. All Rhys had to do was take one good look at her face…

  She blushed as she remembered how it felt to be under his scrutiny.

  Shaking her head, she walked over to the car to wait for him. As she eyed the small interior, it was all she could do not to shudder. That would be the hardest part, being in such close proximity to the man for another few days. Obviously, she’d have to watch herself, make sure there were no slips. She should probably keep the banter going. Keep things light, impersonal and never, ever even think about last night.

  Momentary insanity, that’s what it had been, and this morning, well, call it residual lust. Nothing she couldn’t handle, nothing she couldn’t control.

  Daunted by how much she suddenly sounded like Paxton, she looked up to see him walking toward her.

  He looks good i
n jeans, she thought inanely. Then again, the man looked good in everything.

  She could do this, she insisted. She had to. For Lucie.

  “Good news,” she announced when he was a few steps away. “I know where they went.”

  He looked up, smiling, and her heart skipped a beat.

  Enough of that, she told herself sternly as she opened the driver’s-side door. She had to stay focused on the task ahead of her. It would be no easy feat to convince him to drive to Louisiana.

  “I was right,” she said over the top of the car. “She took off with Bobby. They’re headed back to his place in New Orleans.”

  “New Orleans?” he faltered a step. “But that’s halfway across the country.”

  “Only half of halfway, actually.” With a lame smile, she got behind the wheel, and waited as he took the seat next to her. “Still, it’s going to take a couple days to get there. We’ll have to take turns driving.”

  He shook his head in obvious disbelief. “You expect to drive all the way to Louisiana?”

  “You see another choice? According to my brother, the airport is a mess. That strike is still on. And other airlines are booked solid because of it. We’ll never get a flight.”

  “But what if we do all that driving and still miss them again?”

  She shook her head. “First of all, they’re driving, too. Second, they have only a day’s head start, if that. If we leave right now and keep a decent pace, we can make up the difference. Who knows, we might even beat them to Bobby’s place.”

  “Hurry? In that car?” He looked appalled at the prospect. “I can’t afford another speeding ticket. Two tickets, considering I still don’t have my license. Hey, maybe even three, since we’ll be violating the lease if we don’t take the car back and return it out of state.”

  “Details.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I swear, Paxton, must you be such a stickler for the rules?”

  “Try this rule, then. If we don’t return it tonight, they’re well within their rights to report the car stolen.”

  “So we call and tell them we’ve been held up,” she told him airily. “Just say you need to keep the car a few more days. It’s even the truth, more or less.” She stabbed the key in the ignition. “C’mon, it’ll be fun,” she coaxed as she started the engine. “This can’t be the only road trip you’ve ever been on. I mean, jeez, Paxton, what the heck did you do in college, anyway?”

  “I was at Yale, busy getting a business degree. I was told that was the purpose of higher education.”

  “Silly boy,” Trae scoffed. “College is a kid’s last chance to find out what he or she is made of. And trust me, nothing tests your inner mettle quite like a road trip.”

  “Really? And what pearl of wisdom did you glean in Cancun? That you never want to spend another day inside a Mexican prison?”

  “If you must know,” she told him tightly, “I learned something far more Machiavellian. Watching you in action, I saw how sometimes, the end does justify the means.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, really. Back then, you moved mountains to save Lucie, and as far as I can see, the challenge is no different today. You and/or I have to do whatever it takes to rescue her from Bobby, even if it means driving all the way to New Orleans. I’m certainly up to it. The only real question here is, are you with me or against me?”

  He shook his head. “Hey, don’t expect any endorsements from me. I’m just going along for the ride.”

  “In that case,” she told him as she backed out onto the road. “Fasten your seat belt, Paxton. You’re about to take the ride of your life.”

  Chapter Nine

  S o now he was in an amusement park, Rhys thought as they barreled down the highway at ninety-plus miles per hour. Call it Trae’s Wild Ride, a roller coaster that took him up, down and every possible which way with no time to draw a decent breath. One minute, she had him so rattled he wanted to wring her lovely neck, and in the next…

  He couldn’t figure her out. Worse, he was finding it increasingly difficult to figure himself out when he was around her. How had he let himself get convinced to spend another torturous day in this car? This silent-as-a-tomb car, he amended, Trae apparently having opted to ignore his presence for the past few hours.Trae kept staring ahead, concentrating on her driving, acting as if he wasn’t even in the car with her. As if getting too close to him might lead to serious contamination.

  He’d been content to let this go on for the first hundred miles or so, figuring that the less said between them the better, but this was getting ridiculous. Not that he missed her chatter, mind you. He didn’t need any more chiding, either, but there were times, like now, when he had to know what was going on in her pretty little head.

  For instance, did she keep flashing back, like he did, to the night before?

  As if to shake him back to his senses, the car hit another bump in the road. They both winced, though Trae continued to keep her gaze on the road ahead.

  “Maybe we should check again on the airline strike. I can get us tickets—”

  “With what? You planning on hocking your broken watch?”

  He couldn’t help but glance at his bare wrist, any more than he could stop himself from correcting her. “Now that I’ve found my wallet and I no longer have to report my stolen cards….”

  “Whoa.” That got her attention—and not in a good way. “Back up a minute, Paxton,” she said, fixing her piercing green gaze on him. “Josh found your wallet?”

  Rhys wished he had kept his mouth shut. “If you must know, I scoured the car again during our last stop. I found it wedged between the seat and middle console. Must have slipped out of my pocket. I don’t know how I missed it before,” he added sheepishly.

  “I knew it!” She pounded a hand on the wheel. “You owe poor Josh an apology.”

  He might have to endure her I-told-you-so, but he didn’t need to add on any more humiliation. “I can’t see why poor Josh would want anything more to do with me.”

  She glanced over at him again, tilting her head and frowning. “Wait a minute. When did you find this out?”

  “I checked the car while you got gas.” He’d also checked his messages, hoping he, too, would have heard from Lucie. He hadn’t. The fact that she’d called Trae instead still rankled.

  “And when were you planning on telling me? Never?”

  A good estimate, actually. “I can’t see how it concerns you.”

  He watched her stiffen. “You’re right, of course. Your being solvent again doesn’t impact me at all. Unless you were planning on using your resources to try to buy tickets. You do know that it would mean that you’re conceding that I won our bet?”

  That stupid wager. “A Paxton never concedes,” he told her stiffly.

  She merely smiled.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, irritated by her smugness. “I can gut it out a few more days. Hey, I’ve got this great ride, all the fast food I could ever want to eat, and let’s not forget the spiffy new outfit.”

  She laughed. An all-out, throw-back-your-head expression of humor. His mother would call the display unrefined and unladylike, but Rhys found himself smiling. There was something infectious in her laughter, something sexy in the arch of her soft, white throat.

  She glanced over and caught him staring at her. Blushing to the roots of her hair, she instantly looked away. Pity, he thought. The color did nice things to her face.

  “In a few days those jeans will be fine,” she told him just as stiffly. “You just have to break them in.”

  “They’re pants, for crying out loud, not a horse. I thought buying off the rack was ready-to-wear clothing.”

  “Are you always this hard to please?”

  The question caught him off guard, as did her disapproving tone. “Excuse me?”

  “Not everyone can afford designer jeans, you know. If you want the truth, despite our winnings, we really can’t afford any new clothes at the moment. I just thought, well, you see
med so miserable in Josh’s shorts and a new outfit might make your ordeal a bit more bearable. I guess I was wrong. I’m beginning to wonder if anything will make you stop grumbling.”

  His first reaction was to protest that proper transportation, food and clothing were all he required, but even he could hear how pompous that sounded—“proper” being such a relative term. Given the limited funds, he had to admit that Trae was doing her best to provide all three. Yes, he was accustomed to finer things but his griping made him sound infantile, not to mention ungrateful.

  “You’re right,” he said suddenly. “I have been behaving badly.”

  That drew her gaze. For the longest moment, she just stared at him with her head tilted slightly to the side. “Hmm,” was all she said as she turned back to focus on her driving.

  Rhys felt compelled to fill in the silence. “This is all new ground for me. It’s not easy to admit, but I’m glad we joined forces. I’m not sure I could have gotten this far without your help.”

  As painful as his concession speech had been, it was worth every ache to see the slow, budding smile on her face. “Wow.”

  “I’m not a total jerk, Trae. It’s, well, let’s just say this business with Lucie has me rattled. I don’t understand her lack of communication. I mean, I’m usually the first one she calls.”

  Trae grimaced but said nothing.

  “I’m the one she always contacts when she’s in trouble. No offense, but why is she now calling you?”

  She shrugged. “You’re an intelligent guy, Paxton. You should be able to put it together. She leaves you at the church, runs off with an old boyfriend and then won’t talk to you. What do you think?”

  Rhys tried hard not to do his own grimacing. “Hey, don’t hold back.”

  “Sorry, that was harsh. I shouldn’t have put it so bluntly, but c’mon, hasn’t it occurred to you that you might be on a wild goose chase? That I am right, and maybe Lucie doesn’t want to get married?”