“Considering we’ll be living here together, I don’t see where that will be such a hardship.”
“But I’ll be at the hospital.”
“No problem. I’m used to eating late. I’ll have something waiting when you get home.” He sent her a don’t-argue-with-me look. “I’ll let you think it over.”
“I don’t need to.” His eyes lit up with surprise, but the truth was she didn’t have any time to waste. This place needed lots of TLC. “It’s a deal. Now would you mind if we went upstairs? I’d like to get your input on some things.”
His head lowered and he spoke in a strangled voice. “I can’t go back up there.”
Not I won’t or some other excuse, but rather I can’t. What was up with that? She was tempted to ask—tempted to ease his pain. But she reminded herself that this was a business relationship. Nothing more.
“Lucas, thank you...for all of this.” When his gaze rose to meet hers, she noticed a poignant sadness in his eyes. “Tell me, what do you plan to do with this house? You know, once it’s fixed up?”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Does it matter?”
“Actually it does. If you’re planning to sell, then the interior should be more neutral to invite people to envision their family and possessions within these walls. But if you have plans of keeping it and living here then we can tailor everything to your taste.”
“It doesn’t matter. Use your best judgment.”
Frustration bubbled up in Kate. She’d never encountered this problem before. Usually her clients had too many ideas—ideas outside of their budget and she’d have to rein them in. And though she was tempted to run with the utter freedom he suggested, something told her that Lucas wasn’t as apathetic to the house’s remodel as he wanted her to believe.
She lifted her chin and looked him straight on. “If you would walk through the rooms with me and give me a basic idea of what you have in mind, I could come up with some sketches for you to look over.”
“I only have one requirement. There’s a room upstairs at the other end of the hallway from yours. I don’t want anyone in there. It’s locked and it’s to remain that way.”
“But this place is filthy. You might not want to paint the room, but we’ll need to clean it.”
“No. I don’t want you going in there. Period.”
What in the world was his hang-up about that room? Had it been the room he shared with the ex-wife? Was he secretly pining for her? Somehow his reaction still seemed over the top.
Perhaps someone had died in the room. If so, that would explain why he was acting so strange. And it’d be a more reasonable explanation for turning this house into some sort of mausoleum. If she were ever to lose Molly... Her heart stuttered and a cold sweat broke out on the nape of her neck. No. She would not go there.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was important to you.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It’s just that it’s my...uh, never mind. I just need it left alone.”
“I understand.”
The man might be a little rough around the edges and have a few peculiarities, but she wanted to reach out to him and find out what he’d been on the verge of saying. Still, a nagging voice in the back of her mind warned her not to let her defenses down around him. In her experience, men were basically the same—unreliable.
She’d thought the moon rose and set around her father—how could she have been so wrong? She wanted to tell herself that it was because she was a child and didn’t know any better. But that didn’t explain Chad. She’d utterly and completely fallen for his charm and empty promises. She’d even agreed to his spur-of-the-moment proposal and rushed Las-Vegas-style I dos.
She’d convinced herself that he’d eventually settle down—once they found the right town. But no matter how many jobs he had in this place or that place, none of them suited him.
By the time she became pregnant, she couldn’t remember the address of her latest apartment. She was certain when she told Chad about the baby that it would give him a reason to plant some roots. She’d been so wrong.
He’d been enraged and was convinced that she’d tricked him into getting her pregnant. He’d left that night, only to play a sporadic part in their daughter’s life while he continued to chase his ever-changing dreams.
And now, at this vital juncture in her life, Kate didn’t need any complications. Lucas was one walking string of complications. The first and most important was that he was providing her with the means with which to raise the money for her daughter’s surgery. If their relationship didn’t last—and relationships never did—the price was just too great.
* * *
“Did you see this?”
The following morning, Kate couldn’t tear her eyes from the photo of her and Lucas in the paper. If she’d ever had any doubts about whether that kiss in the car had been a dream, she now had proof. But this picture made the kiss appear less than innocent. In fact, the clench appeared quite steamy—on both sides.
Her cheeks flamed as she recalled his lips moving over hers. The way her stomach had filled with a fluttering sensation. And the way he’d left her longing for more. But that wasn’t going to happen. She wouldn’t let it.
With a frown pulling at her face, she glanced at the photo again. Maybe the photo wasn’t an exaggeration, but it had been a private moment—a lapse in judgment, never to be repeated.
Lucas didn’t say a word as he sipped his coffee, which added to her frustration.
She smacked the paper. “This headline is outrageous. Carrington Heir Snared?” She set aside her steaming mug, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising up her neck and setting her face aflame. “I thought you said if the picture made the paper, it’d be obscure.”
“Don’t let it get to you. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”
“Nothing! How can you call my private life splashed in the news nothing?” Her eyes took in each and every innuendo. She couldn’t stop reading any more than she could stop breathing. “This is going to be a disaster. How am I supposed to face everyone much less ask people for money when this article implies you and I are...you know.”
“Sleeping together.” He supplied the answer so smoothly, so casually as though having the whole world contemplating his sex life was the status quo.
“We have to do something.” Her mind frantically sought out an answer. “We should sue them.”
He shook his head. “First, it would only make this below-the-fold story bigger. And second, they don’t actually lie. We are sleeping together under one roof—”
“But in separate beds.”
“And we were seen leaving here early in the morning.”
“But it wasn’t the wee hours of the morning like they said.”
“You’re splitting hairs. Besides, did you happen to think about spinning this publicity around and using it to your advantage?”
“But I don’t want publicity. I’m happy with my quiet life.”
“Ah, but you’re forgetting about the fund-raiser. You know what they say—any publicity is good publicity. Well, maybe not any publicity, but you know what I mean.”
The scary part was that she did know what he was trying to say. And she didn’t know