“I’m fine, Frederick.” She rose, aware that she looked like a badly dressed gypsy. She didn’t have the energy to explain her clothing—or lack of it—and it wouldn’t matter anyway, not after what she had to tell him. Neither of them would care how she was dressed by the time she was through.
“Please sit down, would you?” She indicated the couch. “We need to talk.”
“What is it?” He stayed where he was by the door, as if he sensed something was seriously wrong, and he wasn’t sure getting involved was a good idea.
“I wish you’d sit down,” she said imploringly. “There’s something I have to tell you, and it may be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“What’s this about, Lucy? Are you ill? I called the office, and they said you were out sick.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m not sick.”
“Then what is it? Us? Next week? Something about the wedding?”
“Please, Frederick, don’t play guessing games. I’ll tell you if you’ll just sit down.”
He did as she asked, sitting on the arm of the couch. Lucy could see that he wasn’t going to commit to anything more until he knew what was going on. He sensed bad news, and he was right about that. He didn’t know how bad.
Her deep breath didn’t help much. “I met someone,” she told him. “It just happened. I don’t understand it at all. I haven’t been able to explain it to myself, but I had to tell you. I couldn’t pretend. I couldn’t lie to you, although I thought about it. I wanted to.”
“You met someone? A man?”
“Yes—” Her voice broke as she realized how badly this was going to hurt him. How it was hurting her already. “He was working in the building, and things kept bringing us together. I’m not making excuses. I really didn’t plan it.”
Frederick was suddenly fiercely interested. “What’s happened, Lucy? Are you trying to tell me you’re involved with this man? Do you love him?”
“I don’t know how I feel, but I did—” She held the ends of her shawl, tying them into knot after knot. “Or rather, we did—”
“You did what?”
“We made love.” She blurted it out, and in the next breath, said, “I know, this is a horrible way to tell you, but I didn’t expect you to walk in that way. God, you must hate me. I’m sorry, Frederick. We’ll call the wedding off. You can tell everyone it’s my fault. It is my fault. I’m so sorry!”
He went silent, bowing his head slightly.
She didn’t know what to do. Should she go to him, say something? “Oh, God, Frederick, don’t cry. I’ll do anything to make it better. Tell me what to do.”
When he looked up his eyes were dry. “I want you to calm down, Lucy. It’s okay. I already knew.”
“You knew I had sex with someone else?”
He rose from the arm. “No, but I suspected that you weren’t really in love with me, and that it might be something else that was driving you to get married, like your need for a father figure . . . so I asked Noah Hightower to help me out. He’s a client and a frat brother of mine from college.”
“What are you talking about?” Lucy let go of the shawl and it dropped to the floor in a crimson heap. “How did Noah help you?”
He didn’t answer, and she leaped to the worst possible conclusion. “You and Noah set this up?”
“Well, not like that.”
He started toward her, but she backed away. “Don’t,” she said, “just tell me what you mean.”
“We didn’t plot against you,” he explained. “I set it up so that you could meet someone else. Him, Noah.”
“That meeting at Blanchard’s was a setup? He wasn’t there to buy an attaché?” She wouldn’t have believed Frederick capable of this kind of scheming. She’d always thought of him as impeccably honest. Maybe she didn’t know him at all.
His shrug was decidedly sheepish. “I called him that morning and told him you were shopping, and you’d probably show up there.”
He’d been hinting around that he wanted a Cavalli briefcase, and he’d even suggested the store where she could find one. Lucy closed her eyes, dizzy.
“Dear God, Frederick, I had sex with the man!”
“Well, that’s unfortunate, of course. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
She couldn’t believe any of this. “Get out of here,” she warned him in a frighteningly soft voice. “Get out of here now.”
“Lucy—”
“Get out of my house, Frederick. Go and don’t ever come back. The marriage is off. We’re off. Everything’s off! If I had a gun I’d shoot you in the back on your way out the door.”
Chapter Eight
NOAH threw the last pair of jeans into his suitcase and zipped up the soft leather bag. Stepping back from the bed, he scanned the hotel room he’d called home for the last week. It boasted an ocean view, a whirlpool tub, and a well-stocked bar. Not a bad place as hotel rooms went, but he’d stayed in his share, and he wasn’t sorry to leave. One final look around, and he was ready to go.
“Come on in,” he called, responding to the sound of footsteps in the hall. He’d left the door ajar for the bellman.
Noah turned, stunned to see Fred Anderson walk into the room. His usually immaculate friend looked like he’d slept in his clothes. Fred was in shirtsleeves, his tie pulled loose, his hair rumpled, as if he’d been raking his hands through it.
“We have a problem, Hightower,” Fred announced. “Lucy knows about our arrangement. She just threw me out of her house—and called off the wedding.”
Noah felt as if someone had kicked him in the chest. Lucy knew? Noah was just headed over to her place to tell her himself. If she was furious at Fred, what must she feel toward him? Jesus.
“How did she find out?” Noah asked.
“I told her. Right after she told me that you two had sex.”
“She told you that?”
“Lucy is honest to a fault. She couldn’t stop crying and apologizing. She was distraught, and I was trying to make her feel better.”
Noah felt as if he’d missed something. “Fred, you’re not angry that Lucy and I made love?”
“Well, of course, I’d prefer you hadn’t, but things happen, and I admit to feeling somewhat responsible. If her electrical system hadn’t gone out, you wouldn’t have been over there.”
“Her electrical system?” Noah stared hard at his friend, not wanting to think what he was thinking. “How are you responsible for that? What did you do? Sabotage her wiring?”
“Me? No, of course not. I hired someone.”
“Fred, for Christ’s sake!”
Fred yanked at his tie, loosening it more. “How else was I supposed to get you two together? You told me she didn’t want to see you again.”
“Lucy and I agreed not to see each other again. She was committed to marrying you, you jerk.”
“Right, I know, but dammit, Noah, you also agreed to help me find out whether she really loved me.”
“So you arranged for her lights to go out, hoping she’d call me?” Noah started toward him, steaming mad. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me what you were up to?”
“You would have said no!”
“You’re damn right.”
Fred had edged to the far side of the bed, as if that could buffer him from Noah. “Listen,” he said, “we go back a long way. We’ve been friends for nearly twenty years—and fraternity brothers, don’t forget that. I’m also the guy whose financial advice has helped you make some highly profitable business decisions over the years, right?”
“Cut the crap, Fred. I agreed to help you because you were a friend, and you were in trouble. I met Lucy at Blanchard’s, and I did the electrical work at her building, all of which you arranged.”
“Exactly.” Fred’s nod was frantic. “I was getting married in two weeks, and I didn’t know what else the hell to do. Lucy kept insisting she was madly in love and wanted to marry me, but she didn’t act like a woman madly in love. What was I suppose
d to think? Her father walked out on her and her mom when she was a kid, and Lucy always felt responsible. I was afraid she saw me as a substitute father figure, so I called you.”
“Maybe you should have told her the truth,” Noah ventured.
“I did! I suggested we postpone the wedding, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”
“No, the truth, Fred—that you weren’t ready to marry her. That is the truth, isn’t it?”
Fred looked aghast. “And hurt her feelings? She would have been devastated.”
“You don’t think she’s devastated now?”
“Oh, great, blame it all on me,” Fred spouted. “You could have said no. You didn’t have to get involved.”
Noah shook his head in disgust. Fred wasn’t ready to accept responsibility for anything beyond their arrangement, which Noah already regretted deeply. And maybe Fred did have a point. Noah could have opted out, but once he’d met Lucy he’d known right away that she was making a mistake. She was delusional on the subject of marriage and children. Delusional, absolutely. But damn if that hadn’t enchanted him every bit as much as her inability to walk in high heels.
He’d never met anyone like Lucy Sexton, ever. And at some point he’d lost sight of his mission to uncover her feelings for Fred. He just wanted to know who this woman was.
Fred continued to pace the small room, raking his fingers through his hair and muttering. “What the hell am I going to do?” he said aloud.
“About what?” Noah asked. “There’s not a whole lot you can do. What’s the problem now?”
Fred halted. “The problem is I love her. I want her back.”
Noah stopped dead. “Well, then you do have a problem, man, because I love her too.” He stood his ground as Fred let out a roar of outrage.
“You don’t even know her,” Fred bellowed. “How could you be in love with her?”
Noah hadn’t realized he was until that moment. “I know her a lot better than you do. Up until today, I may have known her better than she knew herself.”
He shot Fred a fierce warning look. “You’re the one who didn’t believe she loved you. And now you know. She doesn’t.”
“That isn’t true, Hightower. She’s confused. And why wouldn’t she be? You’ve been playing with her head, sneaking around and trying to seduce her.”
“I didn’t seduce her, you asshole. I can’t say I didn’t want to, but it didn’t happen that way. I took a nasty jolt of electricity, thanks to you, and when I came to, she was giving me mouth-to-mouth. I thought she was kissing me. I thought we were making love.”
“I don’t care how it happened. I want her back, and since you caused the problem, you owe it to me to get her back for me.”
“Now I owe you?” Noah wanted to laugh, but not as much as he wanted to hit the bastard. “Just answer me this. You weren’t all that certain you wanted her before. Why now?”
Frederick hesitated, thinking about it. “There’s something different about her lately. I’m not sure what it is, but she’s lively. She sparkles. She’s the Lucy I fell in love with.”
Noah watched as Fred caught his own reflection in the dresser mirror. He checked himself out, rubbing his jawline, smoothing his hair.
“You selfish bastard.” Noah had just begun to realize what a vain, self-involved man Fred was. “You want her because she doesn’t want you. What is she now, Fred? Some kind of prize to be won? A trophy?”
Fred didn’t deny it, and Noah fought hard to keep his aggressive impulses under control. He watched Fred clean himself up, straightening his tie and buttoning his cuffs, and wanted to mess him up but good. How about a broken nose to go with that smug smile of his? Let him clean himself up from that.
As Fred tucked his shirt in, he noticed the packed bags on the bed. “Are you going back to San Francisco?” he asked Noah.
“That’s depends.”
“On what?”
“Lucy.”
“Lucy?”
It wasn’t the answer Fred wanted. He glowered and his hand curled into a fist.
Noah braced his legs wide and folded his arms. He was about six inches taller than Fred, a whole lot fitter, and his stance said very clearly: Come on, Fredericka, come on, ol’ buddy, make my day. Do your worst, but you ain’t getting that woman.
“LUCY, are you absolutely sure?”
“Mother, I thought you didn’t want me to marry Frederick.”
“I didn’t—and I don’t—but this does seem a little hasty.”
“Shooting him would have been hasty,” Lucy muttered. “Castrating him, that would have been hasty. He set me up with another man to trap me. How despicable is that?”
Lucy pushed the hair from her eyes and swore under her breath. She should have tied it back. Better yet, shaved her head. Now there was a thought. Never another bad hair day. Never another man to wash out of her hair. It was symbolically perfect. Women everywhere should shave their heads in protest.
She’d forced herself to get dressed after the showdown with Frederick, and she’d come into the office, thinking work would distract her. Sadly she hadn’t managed to do much but sit at her desk and rail under her breath about the false-heartedness of the opposite sex, starting with her father. Or possibly Cro-Magnon man.
“I think Frederick may have tried to talk to you, dear.” Lydia had just come from an appointment and was nursing her usual cup of exotic-smelling coffee. This time Lucy picked up the essence of coconut and pineapple, which repelled more than it tempted. Her mother sat in the visitor’s chair closest to Lucy’s desk, her legs elegantly crossed and showing to good advantage the black pinstripe suit she wore.
Lucy felt frumpy in her everyday blazer and slacks. But then, she would have felt frumpy in anything today.
“Don’t defend Frederick, Mom,” she chided. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Lydia didn’t have a chance to defend herself. Lucy’s assistant, Valerie, appeared in the doorway. “Your clients are here,” she said, speaking in soft tones. “Shall I entertain them for a while? I do a great Elvis impression, and there’s no signing involved.”
“Yes, Valerie, thanks.” Lucy forced a smile that fooled no one.
“I’ll handle it,” Valerie said and was gone.
Lydia rose from the chair. “Luce, would you like me to take this session? I’m familiar with the case. I referred it to you.”
Lucy nodded. She let out a deep, aching sigh. “I’ve failed utterly, haven’t I? Failed at everything. My fiancé is so desperate to get out of the marriage he set me up with another man, my assistant is reduced to impressions to keep my clients amused while I wallow in pain and self-pity, and my mother has to rescue me by taking my sessions. Not one, but two.”
Lydia had doubled up all day, rescheduling her appointments so she could fill in for Lucy that morning.
Her mother marched over and dragged Lucy out of the chair to give her a hug. “You are my brilliant and beautiful child, and I couldn’t be more proud of you, especially at this moment. You haven’t failed. You’ve made a choice, and it’s the right one.”
Lucy let herself be embraced, knowing she didn’t have to do anything else at that moment, not even hug back. Thank God for mothers and assistants.
Her mother stepped back and smiled tenderly, brushing Lucy’s hair from her eyes. “I know how badly you’re hurting, sweetheart, but you’ll be fine. Frederick isn’t worth this, honestly.”
Lucy nodded. This wasn’t the time to tell her mother the whole story, that Frederick was only part of what was bothering her. “I will be fine. You go. The clients may actually like Elvis.”
Her mother chuckled and was gone, leaving Lucy alone in her large, handsomely appointed office. She met here with clients for intake and individual sessions, so she’d designed the space to resemble a judge’s chambers. The dark woods and leather upholstery had always brought her solace, but now, as she wandered amid the fine furniture and other signs of her success, trying to hang on to her mother
’s words, she still felt like a dismal excuse for a woman on every front.
She was falling apart, and she couldn’t let that happen. She needed a plan.
She paced the office aimlessly until she realized that her wanderings were taking on purpose and direction. Maybe her anger was misplaced. Maybe she should be angry with them. Men. Her mother didn’t seem to know it, but she may have made the right choice all those years ago. And if her mother was miserable now, if she regretted it, she could always find herself a guy and make herself miserable in a different way. It wasn’t too late. Maybe the men her mother’s age were tired of the game playing and ready to have a relationship based on honesty and trust.
Lucy nodded, relieved of her terrible burden.
A life without men sounded perfect to Lucy Sexton.
She wasn’t absolving herself. She undoubtedly had seen Frederick as a father figure, and she probably had wanted to marry him for all the wrong reasons. One day she might be ready to accept that she was lucky this had happened now, before she made the mistake of a lifetime. For that she should probably thank Frederick.
But not yet. And not Noah. She wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, pressing the heel of her hand to her chest. The sudden ripping pain didn’t succumb to pressure. It left her fighting to breathe.
“Get to work, Lucy,” she hissed.
She headed back to her desk as if it were the most potent pain pill on the market. She still had goals, dreams, and aspirations, things that were in reach, if she put her mind to it. Things that could be controlled. There was no reason she couldn’t make Sexton the best damn mediation service in Santa Barbara, maybe the West Coast.
She pulled her chair out and sat, prepared to attack her work and keep attacking it until this terrible aching emptiness eased.
Frederick’s deceit had shocked her. Noah’s had hurt. To the core.
“I’VE been calling you for two days, Lucy. What’s going on?”
Lucy nearly dropped the file she was holding. The angry male voice sent her pulse rocketing. Her palms were instantly damp. She set the file down carefully—and didn’t look up until she could do it without anything visible shaking. Of course, her hair was in her eyes.
Man of My Dreams Page 24