Remembering her salad in her bag that needed to go into the refrigerator, she toed off her sneakers, went back around to the front of the desk, and took the container and her shoes out of her bag, hastily slipping the pumps on her feet.
As she turned to head for the break room, her computer sang a trailed chime of reminder pop-ups and new e-mail messages. Her concern that she’d missed a scheduled client appointment overshadowed her crisp radicchio. With her lunch in one hand, she leaned across the front of the desk and fingered the keyboard in anxious pursuit of the day’s events.
Chapter Six
“Give me a minute,” Lucas said to Isaac who was standing outside of the car, awaiting his exit. Isaac nodded and closed the door.
“If you prefer, I could meet with Ms. Callaghan about the renovations,” Kara offered.
They sat in his limo parked outside of the building where Callaghan Interiors occupied space on the third floor.
Lucas shook his head. “No, I may as well get the reunion over with. I wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for the fact that I would have to hear my mother whine about me not giving Sandra’s company the damn contract.” Seeing Kara’s smirk in agreement, aware of his mother’s penchant for pestering him, Lucas released a long breath to gather patience in preparation to deal with Sandra again.
The Callaghan’s were longtime friends of the Marx family. There had been a time when Lucas’s parents, his mother primarily, expected that he and Sandra would someday tie the knot. He didn’t share in that presumption. The most he’d ever committed to with Sandra was a few nights of bed play. Simply put, he couldn’t see himself shackled to a woman who was even more self-serving than himself.
When Sandra realized that sex was all she would get from him, she looked to challenge her hand: “Either we move forward or it’s over.” She gambled and lost.
Lucas understood that it wasn’t that Sandra had fallen madly in love with him. Prior to her ultimatum, he discovered that she had her own agenda. Under her father Jack Callaghan’s direction, Sandra thought she’d hook him into marrying her, and then she’d work to gain back control of her father’s company, Callaghan Textile Manufacturing.
Back when Jack’s company was struggling, Lucas’s father, Logan Marx, invested and took majority ownership of Callaghan Textile. Jack wanted it back, and he’d tried to use his daughter to get it. One of her so-called best friends, Shelly, who shared an eye for Lucas, told him of Sandra’s true intentions.
After Lucas cut things off, Sandra left California to avoid the gossip in her social circle. Her father funded her interior design business, creating a subsidiary to Callaghan Textile. As the reigning heir of his deceased father’s legacy, Lucas now held the majority interest in Sandra’s company.
His mother still knew nothing of the Callaghans’ treachery, and she remains close friends with Sandra’s mother. He saw no need to tell her about their scheme. It was business, and like his father, he’d handled it.
It was no surprise when Sandra contacted him to offer her interior design services. He’d made mention in the barest sense to his mother that his home was not ready as expected when he’d arrived. She wasted no time informing Sandra that he was in need of interior design expertise. Always the matchmaker, no doubt his mother was primarily hoping it would spark a renewed interest between Sandra and him. Not happening.
Shaking himself free of his thoughts, having stalled long enough, Lucas handed the folders he’d been reviewing over to Kara. “See to it that Gavin receives the duplicates of the changes I’ve made to the Paxton-Caldwell agreement. Make sure he’s brought up to date on the others as well.”
“Understood. Should I have a car pick up Ms. Callaghan on Friday, or will you be escorting her?” Kara asked.
“Friday?” Lucas tried to mentally pull up his calendar.
“The art event,” she said.
“Still not clear.”
“It’s an event that is hosted annually by the National Art Gallery. New artists compete to have their work displayed in several art galleries downtown for one year. In addition, the winner is featured in several magazines, which gets the artist’s name and photos of the art out to the public. The artist must be sponsored in order to compete in the event. That’s where companies like yours come in.” Kara pulled a sheet from her briefcase and handed it to him, but he waved her off. “Companies that have signed up to participate select an artist from the gallery’s list to sponsor—their artwork unseen to keep it fair—and so as not to try to pick out the best to win. It’s a major event in this area. Both parties benefit. The artist has the potential to sell his or her work and become widely known, and the sponsor gets to show its support for the arts. Ms. Callaghan asked if you would come out in support and if Marx Venture Capital would possibly sponsor an artist. I responded on your behalf as you instructed, but since we signed up late, I haven’t received the list of artists competing yet.”
Lucas rubbed at the tension between his brows. His plate was already overflowing as it was. “I vaguely recall. The date seemed much farther out.”
“I’m afraid not. Will you be escorting Ms. Callaghan? She has called several times.”
“Fine.” Though his mother would be pleased, Lucas cringed a little at the thought. He stepped out of the car. “Be back in thirty,” he told Isaac as he looked up at the building before him while closing the two buttons on his Gucci, single-breasted, dark gray suit. He was more than ready to get this meeting over, especially now that he was locked into spending the evening with Sandra on Friday.
Heading to the entrance, he addressed Isaac over his shoulder. “Make that twenty.”
Entering Callaghan Interiors, he chose to head back to Sandra’s office instead of waiting out front. The young man came from behind the front desk and pointed while rattling off the directions, as if venturing along the linear hallway was a very complex feat to undergo.
Reaching the end of the hall, Lucas froze in his tracks. Fate was a fickle bastard and quite creative. It had tested his patience more times than he’d care to count. It was one thing to be seated in her section at the café by chance, but to see her here?
He was facing her back, but it was definitely her. He would recognize that apple-round ass and those smooth, honey-dipped runner’s legs anywhere.
She was leaning across the desk, her long, bountiful curls unbound and blocking her view of him standing behind her.
Balancing her weight on one spiked heel with the other leg slightly bent back, she once again gave him a tantalizing view of her from behind in a form-fitted, mid thigh skirt. That was exactly how Lucas wanted to take her—draped over his desk, a hand tangled in her thick curls, and the other squeezing that ass while he fucked her. His cock twitched and pressed against the inside of his slacks, begging for freedom. Getting a grip, he subtly adjusted himself and straightened the front of his suit coat before saying, “Good morning.”
She spun around and just about lost her poise in those designer stilts at the sight of him standing before her.
“What the ... how did you—” Her winged, dark lashes fluttered like wings on a butterfly.
At that moment, the door to his left opened, and out Sandra came wearing a wide smile. “Luke, you’re here! How wonderful!”
Lucas fought not to flinch. He hated being called Luke, and the woman knew it. Bailey’s gaze jumped from Sandra to him and then back to Sandra, watching as Sandra threw her long, straight, golden-blonde hair over her shoulders and sauntered toward him with an exaggerated sway in her narrow hips. Sandra took hold of his upper arms, leaned in, and kissed his cheek, then drew back. In her stilettos, they were close in height, which made it easy for the woman to gaze warmly into his eyes.
“It’s so good to see you, Luke. I’ve missed you.” She affectionately ran her palms up and down his arms as she chose to give him another kiss rather close to his mouth.
“Hello, Sandra.” He glanced over Bailey’s way, her stare steady, head cocked, studyi
ng their interaction.
A man came up behind him and spoke to Sandra. Lucas took the opportunity to take a slight step back out of the woman’s clutches.
“Good, we’re all here,” Sandra said. “Brian, this is Lucas Marx. He will be entrusting us to complete the renovations on his home.” Sandra turned back to him. “Brian here is my chief designer, and Bailey Walters is my assistant. If you need anything and cannot reach me, you can contact her. She’s a gem.”
Lucas shook Brian’s hand, then faced Bailey with his hand extended. Her cold, green gaze spoke volumes.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Marx.”
“My pleasure, Miss Walters.” He gave a light squeeze of her hand before he released it. Her finely arched brows pinched a fraction, allowing her relaxed, professional guise to falter. He got a glimpse of the indignation she hid behind it.
“Well, let us go to my office.” Sandra led the way.
Lucas took the chair to Bailey’s right at the small, round table. She gave him a narrow side look and subtly rolled her chair away, widening the space between them.
Sandra practically butted her chair to his and jumped right into the meeting. “Your assistant e-mailed me a layout of the property, along with the work that has been completed, and a list of what remains to be done. Brian will need to schedule a time with you to view the site. It’s important we get a look at what’s there to see if we can incorporate the current decor into our design plans.” She smiled sweetly at him and then addressed Brian, “You are to clear your calendar for Mr. Marx.”
Brian nodded. “What time-table are we looking at? Would you like to schedule a walk-through on—” His cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the display. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s the customs agent returning my call. It shouldn’t take long, please excuse me.” He exited the room.
Sandra’s smile remained. “There’s an artifact we’ve been trying to get cleared through customs,” she explained. “While we wait for Brian, I want to thank you for agreeing to become a supporter of the arts, Luke. Kara phoned just before you arrived to tell me you’d signed up Marx Venture Capital. The art expo is a really great event. We’ll have a wonderful time. I even found the perfect black dress to accompany these.” She winked and pushed her hair behind her left ear, revealing a large diamond stud. He stared at the stone vacantly. “You don’t remember, do you?” Her tone dropped a scale, clearly disappointed.
“Should I?” Lucas tried not to show that he didn’t give a shit. He gave a glimpse over at Bailey and connected with cold, green daggers.
“I would think you should. They arrived as a surprise from you for my twenty-fifth birthday. Now do you remember?”
His response was a light shrug of a shoulder. He always had Kara send jewelry, and she knew what to get based on his level of interest in the woman. Earrings came in third before bracelet. A few had lasted long enough to receive a pendant necklace, and there hadn’t been a woman worth considering that number one stone.
Lucas sat back casually in his chair, half listening to the woman on his right, for his mind was consumed by the woman to his left. He chanced another look at Bailey; her gaze flickered from Sandra to him and then back to Sandra with a look crossing between astonishment and irritation. He shared those feelings. It annoyed him that Sandra would openly discuss their previous involvement in front of her assistant—in front of Bailey, of all people.
They all looked up when Brian poked his head into the room. “Excuse me. Sandra, can I see you for a moment? The customs rep needs to speak to you about the licensing.”
“Uh, sure.” Sandra turned to Lucas and lightly touched his forearm. “I’m truly sorry about this. I’ll be right back.” She stood up and spoke to Bailey on her way to the door, “Please give Mr. Marx—”
“Lucas,” he turned to Bailey, “just Lucas.”
“Please give Lucas a cup of coffee. He likes it black ... no sugar.” Sandra gave him a playful wink and stepped out of the room.
“I’m aware,” Lucas heard Bailey murmur as she rose from her chair and walked over to the sidebar. Returning to the table, she set the cup before him and took her seat, centering her attention on her portfolio.
Awkward silence.
“It seems we’re having that morning coffee after all,” he said. She cut a hard side look at him. Lucas countered with a half grin before taking a sip from his cup. He frowned and forced a swallow. “What is this?”
Flipping aimlessly through her portfolio, she uttered, “It’s hazelnut, and we’re not having coffee, you are.” She swung her chair around, arms folded beneath her breasts, brows low, and legs crossed, squaring off with him as she whispered, “You’ve got some nerve trying to hook up with me last night when you have a girlfriend. The damn nerve of you!”
“Girlfriend? Do you always leap first, Miss Walters?”
“What are you talking about? Do I look stupid to you? It’s obvious you and Sandra have a thing,” she bit out.
He couldn’t suppress his grin at her outrage. “I see those hot, green sparks are back.”
She frowned, looking not at all amused. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Lucas’s gaze roamed over her delicate features and wealth of curls on down, tracing the contours of her breasts outlined in the red silk blouse, the size appearing a bit weightier than he remembered from the night before. His eyes dipped to her smooth, bare legs. Legs I’d like to have wrapped around my back. He brought his gaze back up to her curls, lingering there.
“It’s just as I thought.”
“Wh-what?” She tensed and reared away from his hand reaching out toward her breasts.
His eyes came up, meeting hers. “Your hair.” He lifted several locks and rubbed the silk strands between his fingers. “Beautiful.” Her hair was tugged from his hold.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed low and rolled her chair away.
On a sigh, he pushed the awful coffee aside. “You have it wrong here.”
“You don’t like the term girlfriend?” She whipped her head around, glowering. “Then let me rephrase—fuck buddy. What, Sandra’s not doing it for you? Or are you looking to spice things up, splash some color into the mix? A threesome?”
Lucas cocked a brow and fought not to laugh at her palpable fury. “A threesome? You’re full of surprises, Miss Walters.”
Just then, the door opened, and Brian and Sandra entered, reclaiming their seats.
“We’re sorry about that. Now, where were we?” Sandra cast a long look at Bailey, who was fumbling with her papers. “Bailey, did you refresh Luke’s cup?”
“She offered and I declined,” Lucas said, and he and Bailey exchanged knowing looks that had nothing to do with that god-awful coffee.
“Sandra, if Mr. Marx approves, Bailey could take this one,” Brian suggested. “Mr. Marx, if I may say, sir, I’ve reviewed the specs on the work that’s left to be completed on your home. Though there are some areas that are raw, and the completed work will need to be inspected, I feel that what’s left, Bailey can handle. She has helped me on several projects and has really great ideas. She was actually the lead interior designer at her prior employer.” Brian nodded to Bailey for support. “Your renovations would be a great place for her to demonstrate her skills. Her credentials are right there in front of you.” Ignoring the heated look Sandra shot his way and the stunned stare Bailey did not mask, Brian slid the portfolio over. “See for yourself, she’s very talented. If you would accept her as the lead, I can be her second if she requires my assistance, but I don’t foresee it.” He subtly winked at Bailey, who managed a weak smile in return. “If you give her a chance, you’ll not regret it.”
“I don’t think that would be wise, Brian,” Sandra chimed in. “I appreciate you helping Brian and all that you do, Bailey, but I don’t feel this project is one where I would chance.”
“These are very impressive,” Lucas remarked as he flipped through her portfolio. He looked Bailey directl
y in the eyes and asked, “Do you feel you could fulfill all my needs, Miss Walters?”
With Brian chuckling at the double entendre, her eyelids fluttered, clearly discerning what he meant. “I think—” she began.
“I’m sure that didn’t come out right,” Brian cut in, still chuckling.
Oh, it came out just the way Lucas had intended. “Well, Miss Walters?”
“If given the opportunity, I’m confident that I can finish your renovations to your complete satisfaction and stay on budget, Mr. Marx,” she said, her challenging stare upon him unwavering.
“I don’t—”
Lucas jerked his head to Sandra, and she clammed up. He was sure her forehead would crack open from the severe frown she displayed. Unconcerned, he turned back to Bailey. “If you’re free tonight, we can get together.” Again, they exchanged a look, and he grinned a bit impishly. Her frigid stare said the chances of them getting together were about as likely as him getting out of his Friday evening meet up with Sandra.
“I can come by tonight, Mr. Marx.” Clinically professional was her tone.
“Then it’s settled.” He stood up, and they all followed suit. “Be there at seven this evening. If you arrive before me, let yourself in and take a look around. My assistant will stop by later with the key.” He headed for the door, but paused when Bailey called to him.
“What’s the budget?” she asked.
“There isn’t one.” Lucas left the office with a smile. He’d just been handed his honey-dipped princess on a silver platter.
Chapter Seven
Bailey parked her car at the curb and got out. She didn’t use the circular driveway for fear her car would leak oil on the pristine gray cobblestone.
“Be there at seven,” she mouthed irritably to herself, recalling that same highhanded tone she’d heard Lucas use when he was speaking on his cell phone the night before.
Sighing out her irritation, she hiked up the long, stone pathway over to the security panel encased in pristine white brick and entered in the code that Lucas’s assistant, Kara Kennedy, had given her. The heavy, black iron security gates slowly parted.
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