‘Gloria, then?’ Lucas prompted again.
Her mother, an older more sophisticated version of herself, the silver-blonde hair kept in a shorter feathered style, faint lines about her blue eyes and vividly painted mouth disputing the mistake people often made of them being sisters. Gloria wasn’t as strong and forceful as Jace, possessed a fragility of character and body.
‘She’s dead,’ Chelsea stated flatly.
Lucas looked taken aback, almost disbelieving, as if he suspected her of lying.
And why shouldn’t he, women of thirty-nine didn’t just die, especially ones as beautiful as her mother had been. ‘It’s true,’ she told him without emotion, her pale face pinched with sorrow now, dark shadows of pain in her eyes.
‘Is that why Jace sent you here?’ Lucas probed.
‘Yes. He—I—The publicity. He didn’t want me involved in that.’ She moistened lips that suddenly seemed devoid of all feeling, having trouble articulating. ‘He said he would contact you,’ she repeated faintly.
‘Maybe he did,’ Lucas nodded grimly. ‘I’ve been unreachable the last few days.’
She had guessed that from the overnight bag and the amount of mail waiting for him. ‘Did you go anywhere nice?’ she asked numbly.
‘Chelsea—’
‘Sorry,’ she grimaced, the heat of the room suddenly overwhelming her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured vaguely just before she fainted.
* * *
She had no idea how much time had passed before she awoke to the feel of a hand gently tapping against her cheek, fighting back the blackness to find Lucas bending over her as she now lay full-length on the leather sofa, Lucas obviously having carried her here. He sat back as her eyes flickered open completely, a mask of polite concern making everything but his eyes seem emotionless, a depth of feeling in the brown eyes that he couldn’t control or hide.
‘I really am sorry.’ She pushed her hair back from her face as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. ‘I’ve never fainted before.’
‘Your—’ He broke off, his mouth firming in self-condemnation.
‘My mother never died before,’ Chelsea finished dryly. ‘No, as far as I know I only had the one.’
‘Chelsea!’
His anger had little effect on her, too much having happened to her the last few days for anything to have much effect, aware only that her mother was dead.
‘I’ve made some coffee.’ Lucas stood up to pour two cupfuls from the pot that stood on the silver tray on the low table in front of the sofa.
‘Was I out that long?’ Chelsea frowned.
‘Long enough,’ he nodded abruptly. ‘Cream and sugar?’
‘Milk if you have it, no sugar,’ she told him in a preoccupied voice, barely aware of his leaving the room to come back with the jug of milk, although her shocked senses did register that the strong brew had sugar in despite her request. She grimaced. ‘I said—’
‘I heard you,’ he confirmed shortly, lowering his long length into the chair opposite her. ‘I think you need the glucose. When did you last have anything to eat?’ His eyes were narrowed disapprovingly.
She knew she was pale, she had been since Saturday. ‘Certainly not today,’ she frowned in concentration. ‘And not yesterday either.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t remember when I last ate,’ she gave up even thinking about it, her head beginning to pound with the effort.
‘Jace should have made sure that you did,’ came the censorious reply.
Her mouth tightened. ‘I think he may have had other things on his mind.’
Lucas didn’t even blink an eyelid at the rebuke, his gaze steady. ‘When did your mother die?’
She gulped down some of the coffee, not even noticing as it burnt her throat. ‘Two days ago—no, it would be three now,’ she belatedly remembered the time difference. ‘We buried her this—yesterday, morning.’
‘Had she been ill?’ he probed. ‘Your father didn’t let me know—’
‘How could he, if you’ve been unavailable?’ she pointed out logically, guessing from the way he had avoided meeting her gaze earlier when he told her he had been away, that he had been with a woman. ‘Jace couldn’t have let you know, anyway,’ she added dully. ‘It was very sudden. The doctor diagnosed heart-failure.’
‘At only thirty-nine?’
‘It can happen at any age,’ she shrugged. ‘And she was never strong. Jace said there was nothing they could do.’
‘I’ve never got used to the way you call your father Jace,’ he shook his head.
‘Why not, it’s his name.’ She had never seen anything strange about calling the handsome giant of a man who was her father by his first name; she had been doing it ever since she could remember. A young American on holiday in London he had met and married her mother in a matter of months, and she had entered the happy world of their marriage after only eighteen months together, both she and her mother moving back to America with Jace permanently when she was twelve years old. It seemed to have been the beginning of the decay of a previously happy marriage. ‘What did you call your father?’ she asked Lucas now to shake off the memory of past unhappiness.
‘Sir, mostly,’ he answered derisively, something like humour in the dark brown eyes, although it quickly faded. ‘Look, I’d like to check on my post,’ he frowned. ‘Help yourself to more coffee; I shouldn’t be long.’
Chelsea made no effort to stop him striding from the room, needing the next few minutes alone to gather her shaken senses together. She had thought he would have received Jace’s cable, hadn’t envisaged having to tell him of her mother’s death herself. She had withstood the shock of finding her mother unconscious in her bedroom, hours spent at the hospital with Jace before a doctor finally came out to tell them her mother was dead, the friends and well-wishers calling at the house to pay their respects, the funeral, and then finally Jace bundling her on the first available plane to England, little dreaming that the man he had sent her to wouldn’t be here to receive her. The last few minutes of explaining things to Lucas had shaken her badly.
She hadn’t even wanted to come here, had been too numb to protest her feelings when Jace had insisted she made herself scarce for when the news of her mother’s death hit the media. But she wasn’t numb now, and the thought of Lucas McAdams having her here on sufference, because of a friendship that, as far as she knew, hadn’t been nurtured for the last seven years, filled her with dismay.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
She turned guiltily, in the act of picking up her suitcase in preparation to leave, finding Lucas watching her from the doorway of the room he had disappeared into minutes earlier. ‘I thought I’d go back to the airport,’ she told him truthfully. ‘And get the next flight home.’
His expression was darkly forbidding as he came back into the lounge. ‘When you know Jace wants you to stay here?’
Her eyes widened. ‘He did contact you?’
‘Yes,’ Lucas nodded, adding nothing to the confirmation.
‘What did he say?’ she prompted impatiently.
‘Only what you’ve already told me,’ he dismissed. ‘He’s going to telephone me once you’ve arrived. But he’s already told me enough for me to realise this will be the best place for you for the next few weeks, at least,’ he added grimly.
‘I could have handled the publicity if Jace had given me the chance!’
‘He wanted to spare you any unnecessary pain.’
‘I’m sure he didn’t tell you all that in a cable,’ she derided defensively.
‘You’re right, he didn’t,’ Lucas bit out curtly. ‘I know him well enough to be certain he would want to protect you at all costs.’
Chelsea was sure he was right, but she didn’t know how he could make such a claim about a man he hadn’t seen for so many years. ‘Jace may have changed since you last saw him—’
‘He hasn’t.’
‘Seven years is a long time.’
‘I last met Ja
ce in Los Angeles two weeks ago,’ Lucas told her flatly.
Her brows rose as she couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘I didn’t know that…’
Lucas shrugged. ‘You live with your mother, so how could you possibly be aware of all your father’s friends?’
Mainly because Jace had told her about most of them, although the remark Lucas had made about her living with her mother was what cast the shadow over her face. She had lived with her mother, she had no idea where she lived now, although it seemed that for the moment it was here, with this darkly handsome man who was a complete stranger to her!
‘You’re right,’ she acknowledged dully. ‘But that friendship doesn’t extend to me, and I would rather go back home.’
‘You’re wrong, Chelsea.’ He shook his head, a hint of gentleness to the forbidding mouth. ‘Even if I didn’t at first remember you as the silver-haired angel who dogged my footsteps seven years ago I do remember you now, and I insist that you stay here.’
And she doubted many people resisted when this man insisted, and she was too weary to do so herself right now. ‘You thought I was a hooker,’ she reminded softly.
A dull red hue darkened his face beneath the prominent cheekbones. ‘I’m sorry about that—’
‘I’m not,’ She shook her head, smiling wanly at his puzzled frown. ‘Once I’m a little less tired, a little less numb, I’d like to think there’s something we can sit down and laugh about together.’
Lucas looked as if he would rather forget about the whole incident than laugh about it, concentrating on the first thing she had said. ‘The spare room is already made up, if you would like to go and lie down for a while?’
‘You’re sure I’m not going to inconvenience you?’ she still hesitated.
‘I’m sure,’ he nodded.
‘I meant with—a special friend, or someone,’ she lamely tried to explain what she had meant; Lucas didn’t come across as the sort of man that had girlfriends, although she was sure he had spent the past weekend with the current woman in his life. She vaguely wondered how serious the relationship was.
His mouth tightened disapprovingly. ‘With no one,’ he bit out. ‘I’ll show you your bedroom.’
Chelsea followed him with a slight grimace on her face; obviously she had touched on a delicate subject as far as this man was concerned. Maybe he just didn’t like having to admit to the more basic urges and feelings that plagued the lives of other mortals!
Making rash judgments about her host wasn’t going to make her stay here any easier! For all she knew Lucas could be very warm and loving to the woman he favoured with his attentions—She was doing it again! And she was too tired at the moment to make rational judgments about anything, especially this man; Jace had sent her here, so he must trust and like the other man. So would she.
‘Camilla chose the decor in this room herself,’ Lucas told her as he showed her into what was obviously his guest room, the pale lemon and brown colour scheme restful as well as being comfortably feminine; there was nothing Chelsea disliked more than a lot of frills and lace in a bedroom, having been pretty much a tomboy until she left school last year, still preferring to wear denims and tops when she wasn’t at work. ‘As my only female guest to date,’ Lucas added pointedly.
She doubted that any female guest he had, other than family, would sleep in a separate bedroom to him anyway; he was much too old and experienced to settle for a platonic relationship. ‘Camilla always did have good taste.’ She ignored his last remark, although her normally effervescent nature wouldn’t usually have let it go unchallenged. ‘It’s a lovely room.’
He nodded abruptly, putting her suitcase down on top of one of the single beds, uncaring of its dampness on the lemon coverlet. ‘I hope you’ll be comfortable. You have your own bathroom through here.’ He opened a connecting door, the decor in there similar to the bedroom. ‘Dinner will be in half an hour, if you would like something on a tray…?’ he raised dark brows.
She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry. But I can cook you something, if you like?’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ he dismissed arrogantly.
‘I’d enjoy doing it.’
‘I can get my own meals when necessary, although I have a housekeeper who usually leaves my evening meal for me. She’ll be back at work from seven-thirty in the morning, and she doesn’t leave until four. She’s had the weekend off in my own absence,’ he explained.
She should have known he didn’t keep this huge apartment spotlessly clean himself; he hardly came over as the domesticated type. ‘I can help her out, if that’s okay?’
‘Mrs Harvey would probably leave if you tried. And as she’s been with me the last five years I wouldn’t thank you for that,’ he warned.
She could well imagine. ‘I just thought that as well as being helpful it would give me something to do.’ She shrugged. ‘But if you say no…’
‘I say no,’ his mouth twisted. ‘Good domestic help is hard to come by nowadays.’
He wasn’t being patronising, merely stating a fact. Nevertheless, Chelsea wondered if the awesome-sounding Mrs Harvey viewed herself as ‘domestic help’. She knew that their own maid, Clare, would have been most insulted by the title. Her face shadowed. Poor Clare, she had been as devastated by Gloria’s death as everyone else; the elderly woman would probably never recover from the shock.
Lucas frowned as he watched the expressions flickering across her candid face. ‘I’m not so sure you don’t need food more than rest.’
And from the sound of it he personally intended seeing that she got it! But even the thought of food still made her feel ill, although she wasn’t sure she had the strength to fight this formidable man right now. She was saved the trouble of finding the energy to try as the telephone began ringing somewhere in the apartment.
‘I’ll go and answer that,’ he said somewhat impatiently.
‘I’ll probably have fallen asleep by the time you’ve finished with the call,’ she told him hastily, in no mood to have food forced on her.
‘Chelsea, I—’ He broke off irritably as the telephone continued to ring shrilly, seeming to become more and more insistent the more he tried to ignore it. ‘I’ll have to go,’ he strode to the door. ‘If you need anything—’
‘I’ll find you,’ she nodded.
Lucas gave her a hesitant look before leaving the room to answer the telephone, the melodious sound of his voice muffled through the apartment walls.
Chelsea sat down heavily on the single bed next to her now that she was alone, the weight of her mother’s death forcing her down, both mentally and physically. She would never, ever, forget finding her beautiful mother lying so peacefully in her bed she seemed to be only sleeping, her silver-gold hair spread out across her pillow as if brushed there, the blue of the silky nightgown she wore a perfect match for the eyes beneath the long, fanned-out lashes, her make-up perfect, her mouth seeming to be curved into a smile, almost a secretive smile, as if something pleased her even as she lay there.
But that serene beauty had been disturbed from the moment Chelsea had contacted the emergency services. Her mother had no longer looked peaceful or beautiful as they tried to revive life where it had decided it no longer wished to be.
And it had all been her fault. If she hadn’t decided to go bowling straight from work instead of going home as she had planned to do her mother might still be alive now, she might have been able to get the help soon enough to be of some good to her mother. It hadn’t seemed so strange when she received no reply at home when she called to tell her mother of her delay; since the two of them had lived alone they had lived pretty independent lives, both of them busy with new careers. She had simply assumed her mother had gone out to an early supper, her job as a realtor often keeping her late with prospective clients. She hadn’t dreamt, hadn’t guessed, the real reason her mother had been unable to come to the telephone. To come home and find her like that had shaken Chelsea to the core. She doubted she would ever get
over not being there when her mother needed her the most. She knew with certainty that the guilt would always be with her.
CHAPTER TWO
THE shower she had taken had refreshed her a little, and although she still didn’t feel like eating, the thought of another cup of coffee—her staple diet of the last few days—seemed like a good idea.
She could still hear Lucas on the telephone as she stepped out into the hallway, it hadn’t seemed worth the bother of dressing again so soon after undressing. Besides, the black towelling robe she wore was adequate clothing for the brief time she needed to leave her room.
‘—you know I’ve enjoyed the last few days,’ Lucas was saying impatiently as she tried to pass through the lounge unnoticed. ‘All right, a very enjoyable time,’ he added huskily after a brief pause. ‘But I’ve already explained to you, several times, that I can’t possibly go out and leave Chelsea alone tonight.’
She had come to an abrupt halt at the sound of her name, blatantly listening to the rest of the conversation. If Lucas thought he had to baby-sit her he was mistaken!
‘God, Jennifer, you’re a mature woman of thirty-two, what attraction do you think a nineteen-year-old girl would hold for me?’ he answered the woman on the telephone exasperatedly.
Chelsea knew half-a-dozen men of his age, a couple of work colleagues, and some friends of her father, who definitely didn’t think of her as a girl!
Lucas seemed to become aware of her indignation emanating across the room at that moment, turning from his sightless gazing out of the window, his mouth tightening disapprovingly as he took in her appearance, her damp hair, the black robe, her bare legs and feet. ‘I’ll call you back, Jennifer,’ he spoke woodenly into the mouthpiece, his gaze still locked icily on Chelsea. ‘No, I’m not being difficult,’ he sighed as the woman obviously objected. ‘I’ll just have to call you back.’ He put down the receiver without waiting for a reply.
Chelsea braced her shoulders as if ready for battle as she and Lucas faced each other across the room. ‘I was just on my way to the kitchen to get some coffee,’ she told him defensively.
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