And how did he feel about that?
He couldn’t afford to feel anything, he told himself sternly. Until he found Lucie and she told him this herself, the topic was sheer speculation.
No, he might better concentrate on his conversation with Jack and why it had left him feeling off-kilter. The looming acquisition concerned him, yes, but Rhys had adequately dealt with such problems before and would do so again in the future.
No, what disconcerted him most was that talking to Jack had seemed like connecting with another universe. Another lifetime. Here on the road, he no longer had to be Rhys Allen Paxton III, a product of his environment, defined—no, restricted—by his job responsibilities. For once he was free to be an entirely different person.
And how did he feel about that?
Part of him knew he was acting irresponsibly, that he had to put an end to it. The sane, logical, Rhys Allen Paxton insisted he should get back to Manhattan as soon as possible.
But the other Rhys, this new, free-thinking, unrestrained creature he’d discovered, wasn’t ready for the adventure to end. Granted, going without money was proving to be more of a challenge than he’d originally anticipated, but hey, nobody could ever call it dull.
And all Trae’s accusations aside, he was adapting. A road trip to New Orleans might not be his first choice for a vacation, but here he was, driving cross-country, showing that he, too, could laugh and joke and cope as well as the next guy. That he could have fun.
As evidenced by the current smile on his face.
Concerned that Trae might have caught him at it, he sobered instantly. A quick glance in her direction reassured him that she hadn’t even noticed. Looking straight ahead, she didn’t seem to be focused on anything. Come to think of it, she’d been abnormally quiet for quite some time.
She seemed lost in thoughts of her own. Not good ones, if her tight features and stiff posture were anything to go by. Most telling of all, she was biting her lower lip. Something was bothering her. And for some strange reason, this bothered him, as well.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice sounding like a cannon blast in the confines of the car. “Another message from Lucie?”
“What?” She blinked, then recovered. “Oh. No. Just my mother.”
“Trouble at home?”
She sighed heavily. “Sometimes I don’t know why I return her calls. With Mom, it’s always a big emergency.”
“Do you need to get back?” he asked.
She shook her head. “She uses my dad’s health as emotional blackmail. He’s in better shape than the both of us, but she knows I can’t take the chance. So I call her back only to find she wants to make sure I’ll be home for the family dinner.”
“All that for a simple meal?”
“Nothing’s simple about Sunday dinner in the Andrelini household.” She turned in the seat, facing him, folding a leg beneath her. “You have to understand. For Mom, it’s this huge production, the same command performance every week. My parents, my brothers and their wives, all my nieces and nephews. With thirty of us, there’s always a special occasion to celebrate. Last Sunday was Little Joey’s First Communion. Chasing after Lucie, I forgot all about it.”
“Surely, once you explained…”
Trae shook her head vehemently. “You don’t get off the hook that easily with Yolanda Andrelini. All she’ll ever see is that I let poor Little Joey down. Even if I show up with the very best gift ever in the world, she’ll still make me feel like a worm. And he probably didn’t even notice I wasn’t there.”
“Wow. Put marbles in her mouth, and she’ll sound like the Godfather.”
That won him the slightest of grins. “She’s scarier, trust me. She has her beliefs, and she never backs down. To her, family is everything. Her life, her sacred duty. Do anything to any one of us and she’ll rip you apart.”
Rhys smiled. “So that’s where you get it from.”
“Very funny, Paxton.” She whacked him gently on the arm. “Sadly enough, though, I’m no match for that woman. She won’t let me be. I can get married, have kids and live to be a hundred and still she’ll treat me like her little baby.”
He was beginning to see why Trae tried to be so fiercely independent.
She sighed again. “Most mothers don’t stifle their kids like that. I bet yours didn’t.”
Rhys thought of his mother, off somewhere on the French Riviera, living far beyond the generous allowance he provided. “Have to admit, it’s hard to imagine Deidre fixing any dinner, much less one for a large family.”
“Oh, come on. She must have done a holiday or two. Every mother cooks for Thanksgiving.”
“Not mine. She never bothered to learn how. Our meals came catered, to be consumed separately in an individual room of choice. I tried the dining room once, but the sound of my silverware echoing off the plate seemed so depressing. Generally, I ate by myself in the kitchen.”
“Jeez, Paxton. That sounds like something Dickens would write. Did she make you scrub floors and sleep in the gutter?”
He laughed, the sound dry and mirthless. “As if she’d go to the trouble. She had servants for that and besides, she far preferred to ignore me. Right up until she took off with her lawyer the day before my seventh birthday.”
“Your seventh? But you were just a baby.”
He liked hearing her concern. Maybe that was why he suddenly felt so expansive. “Jack was only two, which was why Deidre had to take him. She couldn’t have people talking about her behind her back, accusing her of abandoning her baby. I’d be fine, she told me before she left. I was self-reliant, I could take care of myself, and besides, I looked too much like my father. Having me around would only upset her. In the same spirit of self-preservation, she’s minimized our contact ever since. I’ve seen her a total of three times—at my father’s funeral, the reading of his will and then in court when she tried to contest it.”
Trae shook her head, as if she found it hard to believe. “I wondered why she wasn’t at the wedding.”
“She was invited, but I guess she had to make a statement. My father left control of his estate in my hands, and she’s never forgiven me for it. Four divorces can run up a hefty bill.”
She was watching him, head tilted to the side. “I’d be devastated if my mother abandoned me. How can you make it sound so…so matter of fact?”
He shrugged, but it wasn’t mundane at all. It had taken years to understand that the fault lay with her, and not himself.
“Well,” she added with a sigh. “At least you had your father.”
“Yeah, that was an upgrade,” he told her sarcastically. “Mr. Congeniality himself. His idea of quality family time meant that I never bothered him. Children, he firmly believed, were not to be heard or seen.”
“But he was your dad,” Trae protested, visibly puzzled. “Surely you must have some good memories together. A fishing trip, maybe, or camping in the woods.”
He snorted. “Rhys Paxton II, getting his pants dirty? I tried joining the Boy Scouts in grade school, but my father wouldn’t participate. He was always out of town on business when the camping trips came up. So, no, we didn’t camp and we didn’t fish.”
“So how did you grow up to be so normal?”
At least they’d progressed to the point where she could consider him normal. “Believe it or not, I adapted. And, yes,” he held up a hand as if to stop her, “I did gripe a lot. I guess it’s my nature.”
She rewarded him with a grin.
“Besides, I wasn’t left completely alone,” he continued. “Jack visited sometimes, I had friends at school, and then when I was fifteen, Lucie came along.”
“I bet she brightened things up.”
A picture drifted into his mind, ten-year-old Lucie with her long blond ponytail, perched on the fence as she peppered him with question after question. “She used to follow me everywhere,” he said with a smile. “My little shadow, chattering in my ear, describing every thought that ever flit
ted into her head. I was this hotshot high school freshman, right? Too cool to be bothered by a fourth-grade brat. But there was something about her, something that drew me. Once I met Hal and Mitsy, I saw why Lucie tailed me. Poor kid needed someone to talk to. Someone who would listen and not always judge.”
Trae nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I know what you mean. First time I met her, she told me about her mother. Didn’t take long before she was telling me every other aspect of her life.”
And that must have been when Lucie stopped confiding everything in him. Was that why he’d always resented Trae?
“I always wondered how you two became such good friends,” he said, uncomfortable with the realization. “You have to be polar opposites.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She seemed surprised, as if the thought had never occurred to her. She turned to gaze sightlessly out the windshield, her mind more on the past than the road before them. “I remember the first time I met her. I was so homesick I was literally ill from it. Miles from home for the first time in my life, a nobody from Brooklyn among all those poor-me-I-only-got-one-Porsche-for-Christmas debutantes. It was definitely an adjustment.”
Rhys studied her, surprised by her confession. “I have trouble imagining you as a fish out of water. You seem so adaptable.”
She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m human. All I know is that I was sitting in the dorm lounge, this close to giving up my scholarship and crawling home in defeat like my parents kept urging, when Lucie strolled up to sit next to me. I can’t remember what started our conversation, something silly to do with whatever was on television I imagine, but I can still feel the wonder of discovering somebody who made me feel at home.”
Against his will, his heart went out to her. Lately, he’d been finding a lot of vulnerability beneath the brash facade.
With a sigh, she turned back to face him. “I figured it couldn’t last,” she went on. “I mean, really, Lucie Beckwith, the richest of them all and most qualified for snobbery, giving me her stamp of approval? The next time she was with her friends, who’d only seemed to care about money, she’d have no choice but to snub me.”
“We talking about the same girl?”
“I didn’t know her then, okay? But, yeah, I soon learned differently. Maybe an hour later, her pals showed up, demanding she leave with them. Lucie told them that she’d talk to whomever she wanted.” She paused, smiling inwardly. “I ask you, how can you not be best friends with someone who does that for you?”
Rhys felt a rush of pride at the thought of Lucie’s coming to Trae’s rescue. “She takes friendship seriously. She always says that the best ones are not only a gift, but also a duty.”
“Yeah, I got that lecture, too.” She shook her head, apparently not comfortable with the memory. “Back when Jo Kerrin got in trouble.”
The name rang a bell. Searching his memory, Rhys could remember Lucie talking about one of her roommates. “Jo Kerrin? Isn’t that the girl who quit school to marry her high school sweetheart?”
“Right after we decided to leave the dorm and rent a house together. I guess we should have called Jo once in a while after she eloped, but we were annoyed at her for sticking us with the extra rent. If Lucie hadn’t tracked her down and kept in touch, we might never have known that Jimmy beat her. Badly enough to put her in a hospital.”
Rhys shifted uneasily, wondering why Lucie hadn’t mentioned this to him. “She didn’t stay with the jerk, I hope.”
“Not that time,” Trae sighed. “Thanks to Lucie, we were able to get some money together and put her on a bus to a shelter in St. Louis where Jimmy couldn’t find her.” She shuddered. “I can still see her battered face, what he did to her. It was right after that when we all swore to Just-Say-No.”
“To just say what?”
“We swore an oath,” Trae explained patiently. “Quinn, Alana, Lucie and I. We all agreed that we wouldn’t get married unless we could stand on our own two feet.”
That explained a lot. About Lucie, and about the woman beside him. “So that’s what you were doing before the wedding? Reminding Lucie of your pact?”
She blushed, admission enough. “More or less. It’s also why I’m so desperate to find her. To make sure she doesn’t become another Joanna.”
“Well, thank you very much.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she said quickly. “I know you’d never willfully hurt her. It’s the inadvertent stuff that concerns me. Don’t you see? Lucie must be absolutely certain she wants this marriage. I don’t want her falling back on it because she can’t think of anything else to do.”
Again, Rhys felt the sting of truth behind her words.
“I know that sounds harsh, and maybe I’m way out of line here, but what if she’s doing what Jo did? Going for the tried and true, and not necessarily what’s best for her. Or for you, either, Rhys, if you think about it. Every time we thought Jo had it together, that she’d finally learned her lesson, Jimmy would talk her into going back. ‘He loves me,’ she’d say, then last year she got pregnant and Jimmy proved his love by beating her so badly she almost lost the baby.”
“Jeez, why didn’t Lucie come to me with this? I could have helped.”
“Yes. You and your checkbook.”
“No,” Rhys argued. “Lucie might enjoy my money and all it can offer, but she has more than enough of her own.”
“But your wealth offers a lot of security, Rhys. Not to mention stability.”
He couldn’t help but notice that she’d called him Rhys, not Paxton. He couldn’t help but notice a lot of things—the blazing green eyes, the petal-soft white of her skin, the full red lips drawn in consternation.
“Put that together with all the constant badgering,” she added primly, “and it’s no wonder Lucie feels compelled to marry you.”
“I never badgered her,” he protested indignantly. “For the record, Lucie was the one to tell me we’d be getting married. So how’s that for your theory? She had her china pattern picked out before she’d graduated from high school, for heaven’s sake. If she agreed to your pact, I’d bet my last nickel that you girls were the ones who were badgering. I bet she only mouthed the words so you’d all shut up.”
He expected a heated denial. To his surprise, she merely laughed. “Touché. I guess we were kind of forceful.” She shook her head ruefully. “Quinn made us go through this ceremony. We had to tell how we’d achieve success in our chosen careers. When it was Lucie’s turn, she mumbled some nonsense about getting her first part in a movie. She, who’d never even considered a career in acting before. I should have known, there and then, that she never took the oath seriously.”
Rhys tried to picture Lucie in that circle, but all he could envision was Trae, red hair thrown back and green eyes glittering as she swore off the institution.
“What ever happened to your friend?”
“Last I heard she was moving back in with her parents. That’s why she wasn’t able to be at the wedding.”
“What about you?” he found himself asking aloud, thinking again about their oath. “Why do you have such a phobia against marriage?”
“I’m not afraid.” With a sudden frown, she straightened in the seat. “I just want to get my career going, my future established, before worrying about how to fit a man into my life.”
Interesting, how defensive she suddenly sounded. “So the trick,” he pressed, “is to make sure no man can get too close?”
“Yes. No. Oh, for heaven’s sake, there’s no trick, Paxton. I’m simply making sure that I live my life, my way.”
Ah, so they were back to calling him Paxton. “And all this time, you’ve never been tempted to break the pact?” he pressed, needing to know. “Never been in love?”
“I’ve had a near-miss or two.” The speed with which she said it had him suspecting she’d never been tempted at all. “But in each case, we had to break it off. The man involved couldn’t accept that my career must come first.”
“And
which career is that?”
“Don’t get snide. You know darned well I’m talking about the writing. I’m not getting involved with a man until my first book is written and sold.”
“Even if it takes another twenty years?”
“If this is another crack about my lack of self-discipline…”
“Not at all.” He took his gaze off the road to look at her. Sitting ramrod straight, her chin jutted out with defiance, she had all the barriers up. Rhys felt pity for any guy who fell in love with her. It would be no easy trick getting past her defenses.
And damned if that didn’t make him want to try. “There’s obviously a reason you start books but never finish them. Obviously, you’ve got the will, heart and talent to accomplish anything you want, and yet something keeps holding you back.”
“Not everyone agrees that I have talent,” she said quietly. “My parents think I’m wasting time with my writing. In their minds, I could better occupy my life with a husband and family.”
“So you kill two birds with one stone.” She looked over at him, suddenly curious. And vulnerable. “You judge your work with your parent’s critical eyes,” he explained, choosing his words with care, “and you pick it apart until you can no longer bear it. And then, to compensate for the death of your dream, you refuse to do what they want. Which in this case is to settle down and get married.”
“Slick, Paxton. I bet you say that to all the girls.”
He could tell by her frown that he’d struck a nerve, but she was right. He had no business analyzing her, however accurate his assessment, not when he was trying to deal with so many issues of his own.
“Sorry, maybe I’m projecting. Let’s just say I’m a veteran of parental expectations myself.”
“Your father?”
Rhys nodded ruefully. “He had a never-ending list of what his eldest son was supposed to accomplish.”
“And you dutifully mastered each and every item. Admirable, Paxton, if a tad obsessive, but c’mon, don’t tell me you didn’t have dreams of your own.”
The Tycoon Meets His Match Page 14