She Hates Me Not: A Richer in Love Romance

by Greene, F. E.

  “Consider it a favor to the girl’s father. He’s a valued business partner of ours, and he appreciates your willingness to escort his daughter to the gala.”

  Kip read between the lines. Do this for him, and he’ll do something for us.

  “Why can’t she find a date on her own?” he pressed.

  “I told you. She’s American.”

  “Did you not think, at some point, to include your twenty-seven-year-old son in this discussion?”

  “Isn’t that what I’m doing now?” His mother’s voice had dropped a full octave which meant her patience was waning. For her, this was not a discussion.

  “As we’re pulling up to the pavement,” he retorted. “I can’t very well wave the girl off now, can I?”

  “Thank you, Kipling. Don’t forget to bid on the Renoir.”

  She hung up before he could reply.

  Tossing the phone onto the seat, Kip turned his scowl on Yannick.

  The man did nothing more than smile in sympathy. Absentmindedly he twiddled his thumbs. The rest of him was as motionless as a mountain.

  At 6’4” and 18 stone, Yannick consumed more than half of the limousine’s rear-facing seat. While the African immigrant was imposing to behold, size alone had determined his profession. Yannick could easily play defense for an American football team.

  Instead, he protected all three members of the Richmond family at public events. Fully licensed by the Security Industry Authority, Yannick didn’t blend into crowds and wasn’t meant to. Although he couldn’t carry firearms in the U.K., he could disarm anyone who did.

  He also dressed as Santa Claus at the company Christmas party. Of all the duties required to be Lydia Richmond’s bodyguard, Kip suspected that playing Santa was Yannick’s favorite.

  “So does this make you our chaperone?” Kip asked as the limousine rolled to a stop.

  Yannick gave his trademark reply. “I am here to serve Mrs. Richmond.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Kip muttered.

  While the driver stepped out to open the passenger door, Kip tried to prepare himself. It was just one night. One night of entertaining a stranger while shaking hands with others. He was already in Stratford on family business, chasing the Renoir his mother desperately sought. He could bid just as easily with a girl on his arm. It wasn’t the daughter’s fault.

  Or maybe it was. She might be another spoiled debutante whose father pulled any strings to please her. She could have read about Kip in the papers and decided to have a go at Britain’s “most uncatchable bachelor.” However unpleasant the scenario, it was only for one night.

  Kip shifted toward the open door. He would assume the best until the worst presented itself.

  The girl who entered the limo was no girl at all. Kip’s first glimpse of her revealed a slender form poured into a sequined black dress. Unfussy. Sophisticated. With a tantalizing slit.

  Graciously she thanked the driver. Her descent onto the seat wasn’t graceful, and her black handbag bore the brunt of her weight. She seemed as nervous as Kip was annoyed.

  When she swiveled to greet him, her plump pink lips fell open. Staring mutely at Kip, she didn’t blink. Her green eyes complemented her side-swept auburn curls, and freckles dotted her creamy cheeks. Even horrified, she was pretty. More than pretty. She was unique.

  Unique and clearly upset by his presence. So this was an ambush for them both.

  “You’re Kip Richmond,” she blurted. Her accent was one he couldn’t quite place.

  He extended a hand. “And you are?”

  The limousine reached the end of Wood Street before she slipped her hand into his. Delivering a blur of unintelligible sounds, she pulled free of his grip. Straightaway he wished she hadn’t.

  “Sorry,” he replied. “What is your name?”

  With intentional slowness, she said it again. “Lou. Aucoin. Oh-kwaaaah. Like the sound a baby makes when it cries.”

  Understanding, Kip wanted her to repeat the instructions – several dozen times if possible. When Lou spoke, her lips moved in a hypnotic rhythm. Her voice was a blend of piquant and sweet, like a Pimm’s and ginger ale.

  “Is that French?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said crisply. “I’m from south Louisiana.”

  Lou’s body language made her reaction to Kip crystal clear. Folded arms. Crossed legs. She’d wedged herself into the corner. Kip half expected her to fling open the door and dive for the pavement like a hostage in a Hollywood film.

  Her unbridled contempt was an unpleasant reminder of what the world at large believed. He might have made some mistakes in his university days, but the tabloids sealed his fate. Playboy or payday – those seemed to be his only options with women.

  “You didn’t know I was your date.” His comment wasn’t a question. “Your father didn’t tell you.”

  “My father…” Lou’s gaze moved in a circle while she paused. “No, my father didn’t tell me anything about this. He kept a lot of secrets.”

  “Kept?”

  “Keeps. I meant keeps.” Nonchalantly she shrugged. “Jet lag.”

  “My mother said you’re here for the summer. Have you only just arrived?”

  “Look, Mr. Richmond.” With no intention of detaching from her corner, Lou leaned forward just enough to display a distracting amount of cleavage. “Since we’re only paired up for this one night, maybe we should skip the details. It’s not like we’re on a real date.”

  Don’t look down, Kip ordered himself. Do not look down. Some women wanted men to ogle their assets. He knew already Lou wasn’t among them. None of her actions seemed calculating or deliberate. If anything, she felt out of her depth.

  Or repulsed by his presence, more like.

  “Kip, please.” He forced his eyes to remain fixed on Lou’s which were, thank God, as alluring as the rest of her. “Call me Kip.”

  “Kip and not Kipling?”

  He winced as she said it. “I hate my first name.”

  “So do I. Mine, not yours.” She couched her confession in an earnest smile as bashful as it was enticing.

  “Is your name not Lou?” When she told him no, Kip offered his cheekiest grin. “Good, because over here it is a toilet. What’s your Christian name?”

  Quick as she’d warmed to him, Lou retreated again. Her smiled faded. Her posture turned stiff. “It’s a secret.”

  Kip judged her discomfort. She wasn’t trying to be coy. “Sorry. I forgot. Details. We are skipping those.”

  On the seat between them, his phone buzzed. Kip glanced at its screen.

  Did you collect her?

  Without hiding his annoyance, he replied. Yes. Good night.

  Renoir. his mother texted back. Up to 3.5.

  Yes. Switching off the phone’s ringer, Kip tucked it into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. His mother’s message, bothersome as it was, helped him remember his purpose.

  First and foremost, he was there to bid at the auction. Second, to represent Richmond Enterprises as its charming, if somewhat prodigal, son. Third, and more uncertainly, to escort Miss Lou Aucoin.

  While the limousine continued to crawl forward in the queue, Kip glanced out the tinted window. The theatre was in sight. A few more minutes and the evening truly began. He wondered if Lou would ditch him before or after they entered the building.

  “So how was the south of France?”

  Yanked from his daze, Kip thought he might have misunderstood Lou’s question. “Sorry?”

  “I saw your picture in the paper. You were on a beach in Nice. Did you fly back today?”

  Her questions were mildly taunting. Even Yannick reacted with a defensive twitch that rippled across his broad frame like the ground settling after an earthquake.

  Grateful that someone else among them knew the truth, Kip kept his gaze anchored on the street. He propped his elbow on the windowsill and his chin in his hand.

  “I was in London yesterday,” he said. “And the day before that. I haven’t been to Fran
ce in ages.”

  “But I saw your picture in the paper –”

  “And seeing is believing. Is that your philosophy, Lou?”

  “It was a photo,” she claimed with genuine naiveté.

  “It was altered,” Kip replied. “They changed the colors of our swimsuits and superimposed a new name on the yacht. That picture was from the first year Catrella and I were together.”

  It had been the best year of the three, the year before Cat was discovered by a talent agency and began appearing in small-budget films. She wasn’t much of an actress, but she’d certainly fooled him. Kip had only just cleaned up his act when they’d met. Cat seemed eager to help him stay clean.

  She’d also been eager to move things along. Engagement ring. A shared flat in London. They even adopted a dog. But Cat’s burgeoning career threw it all off kilter. She became a commodity, then a celebrity. Everything else – including Kip – faded into the background.

  Kip was glad they hadn’t spoken in a year. He wouldn’t know what to say if they did come face to face. He couldn’t guess why that story had appeared in the papers, and in a harsh tone he said as much to Lou.

  “So it wasn’t true?”

  “Absolute twaddle,” Kip maintained. “But you’re not the only one who believes what you read. Most everybody does.”

  Kip peeked at Lou. She studied him with a lesser version of her gobsmacked stare. Maybe she could become another person who knew the truth.

  Despite having just met her, Kip wished she’d allow it. To gain her confidence would seem like an achievement. To earn her affection was a tantalizing goal.

  “I almost begged off tonight,” he confessed. “That’s a trap, however. If I don’t show, they believe what they read all the more. If I’m here, I can answer their questions honestly, and they have a chance to draw their own conclusions. Hiding just feeds the lies.”

  The limousine stopped. As Kip waited for his passenger door to open, he unbuttoned his jacket. Emerging from a limo was a sort of mini-obstacle course. Any mistake could end up in the morning papers. Major slip-ups went viral in seconds.

  Proficiently Kip climbed out. With one hand he re-buttoned his jacket. He offered the other to Lou.

  As she gazed up at him from the limo’s shadowed interior, Kip feared she might refuse his help. He heard the whirr and snap of cameras at his back. This wasn’t an A-list movie premiere, but there would be local coverage, and a snub of that level would be noticed – by other guests, if not the media.

  When Lou rested her palm against his, Kip released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Gracefully she unfolded herself from the car, and for a moment they stood together. She was taller than he expected. She also wore substantial heels.

  Stepping her away from the limo, Kip released her hand. The polite thing would be to give Lou his arm, but he wasn’t convinced she’d accept. Chivalry trumped his fear of rejection. Raising an elbow, he hoped for the best.

  “Will you allow me, Miss Aucoin?”

  Her chin tilted downward. Her bashful smile reappeared. Kip’s heart beat faster at the sight.

  His pulse continued to race at a ridiculous speed while they strolled up the carpeted stairs. He hadn’t gone out with a woman since he and Cat called it quits. Perhaps that explained his reaction.

  Whatever his mother had in mind for tonight, Kip guessed this wasn’t it. Lydia Richmond cared nothing about the love lives of her sons – unless they endangered the family business. While she believed the old adage that no publicity was bad, she was anything but a matchmaker. For his mother, Lou’s presence at the Stratford Gala greased the wheels of some corporate deal.

  For Kip, it threatened to become something else. He glanced back to ensure that Yannick had been permitted to enter with them.

  Catching his eye, Yannick winked.

  Chapter Three

  As they approached the opulent lobby of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Lou did a double-take at her reflection in its spotless glass doors. She doubted her own mama would recognize her.

  She was more or less sewn into a full-length sequined gown that felt like silk against her skin. The last fancy thing she’d bought for herself was a poly-blend dress on the sales rack at H&M. This had it beat by a southern mile.

  Even her shoes were comfortable in spite of their three-inch heels. Lydia might not be the friendliest woman, but she spared no expense when it came to party clothes.

  More unbelievable was the man whose arm she clasped. Kip Richmond – the spoiled bachelor whom she’d professed to hate five hours earlier in the café – ushered her into the lobby with the confidence of someone who belonged. The vulnerability he’d displayed in the limo had vanished the moment he climbed out.

  Immediately Kip began shaking hands with anyone who approached. He introduced Lou to each person like she was his best girl and not a burden thrust upon him by his certifiable mother.

  Lou made sure to keep reminding herself of the truth. She was doing this for her sister. She hated men like Kipling Richmond.

  He plucked a glass of champagne from a passing tray and extended it to Lou.

  “Aren’t you having any?” she asked.

  “Not until after the auction,” he said. “I need to keep my wits. Since it’s silent, I have to bid carefully, and my mother is hell-bent on getting that Renoir.”

  “Whose isn’t?” Lou laughed into her glass before taking a sip. It was delicious – crisp and fizzy and dry. She couldn’t remember the last time she drank champagne that wasn’t on special at the Co-op. “When does the auction start?”

  “Nine o’clock. It concludes at eleven.” Kip shifted toward her. “Were you planning to stay that long?”

  A wisp of his vulnerability resurfaced. Whatever his reputation, Kip was still a man. And a decent one, Lou was beginning to suspect. More decent than the papers gave him credit for being.

  Besides, leaving early wasn’t part of the deal. For sixty thousand dollars, Lou could pretend to have fun until Kip wanted to call it a night. As long as she was only pretending.

  “I’m with you,” she assured him. “Until you’re ready to go.”

  His confidence returned in a burst, spilling over into his smile. If Kip kept grinning at her like that, Lou might start to wish things were real. She always assumed the rich and famous would seem like less in person. Less dashing. Less eloquent. Less attractive than their airbrushed magazine covers.

  Kip Richmond was nothing but more. More handsome. More charming. Definitely taller. She’d met her share of letches, and there was nothing letchy about Kip. Apart from a colorful past, and a crazy mama, he was almost a normal guy. How could the tabloids have gotten it so wrong?

  “Why don’t you sue them?” Lou asked.

  “Who, the press? No point, really. It’s an uphill battle that often ends with a settlement which won’t cover the legal fees.”

  “They can’t just print lies about people.”

  “For every dishonorable liar, there are a hundred worthwhile journalists. It’s wiser to cultivate a healthy relationship with those.”

  Lou raised her glass in an artificial salute. “Spoken like a spin doctor. Did you miss your calling in PR?”

  “Not at all. I work in Public Relations for Richmond Enterprises. It’s one of the reasons I’m here tonight.”

  “What’s the other reason?”

  “The Renoir. My mother is quite adept at mixing business and pleasure.” As the champagne tray glided by again, Kip’s eyes followed it with obvious longing. “I would ask if you’ve found your calling, but I assume that is a detail?”

  “It is.” Her tone was a little harsher than she intended.

  “And after how many dates will you share those details?”

  As Lou fished for an answer, she drained her glass. “More than we’ve got time for.”

  “My schedule is flexible.” Kip took the empty glass and set it on a nearby table. “And you’re on holiday.”

  Lou stopped he
rself a split-second before correcting him. “There’s nothing special about my story. I’m sure you’ve heard it a million times. Daddy’s rich. Mama’s busy. And I get to do whatever I want.” She tossed in a carefree shrug to underscore her lies.

  Kip appeared more unconvinced than unimpressed. “Then why are you here?”

  Instead of answering, Lou pretended to admire the other guests. Some mingled while others remained on the sidelines. If they all pooled their jewelry and pawned it for cash, they could buy a private island. As photographers near the entryway pivoted and aimed their cameras, a trio of actors sauntered into the lobby like the gala could finally start.

  Leading the pack was a man in a navy blue suit. His silvery dress shirt and matching tie seemed just this side of tacky. Short hair. Tidy goatee. And a face that was way too familiar.

  “Saloperie!” Without thinking, Lou seized Kip’s left arm.

  He tensed beneath her grip. “Sorry?”

  “My ex is here. He just walked in.” Lou tried to tamp down the panic that churned like high tide in her chest. She flattened her other hand against her bare neck.

  “Your ex? In Stratford? Who is he?”

  Rather than answer, Lou just pointed. A man much shorter than Kip but with the same baby-blue eyes entered the theatre lobby. To Lou’s displeasure, the crowd actually applauded. Her ex-boyfriend currently ruled the roost of the theatre’s resident company. He was its poster child. Its golden boy.

  And Lou’s worst lapse of judgment ever.

  “You dated Liam McGreevy?” Kip sounded irritatingly amused.

  “Summer before last.”

  “You don’t seem like his type.”

  When a woman approached Liam for his autograph, Lou huffed in disgust. “And how would you know his type?”

  “We attended school together – all the way through Sixth Form. We weren’t mates,” he added hastily.

  Lou’s décolletage felt like an oven beneath her clammy fingers. This was some bad gris gris, and she’d brought it on herself by agreeing to date a man in exchange for money. Even if her heart was in the right place, her conscience wasn’t on board. She might not be breaking any of the Ten Commandments, but she doubted that St. Paul was smiling.