Lush (16 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Cal hung up the phone and cursed a blue streak so broad he was sure his momma heard it all the way across the state. Another investor out. At this rate the project wouldn’t start on time. He was down two investors and barely managing damage control with the others. It seemed they were fine with him when he was the playboy businessman who generated scandalous headlines, but not with a man who’d had a secret baby and then hastily married the child’s mother who was being victimized by her ex.

The press had dug through Lucy’s past, and soon it would come out that she’d married a man who was already married, who’d beaten her and was still harassing her months after she’d left him and married yet another man—Cal. It was one thing, apparently, to leave a string of mistresses in your wake and another to let a woman with a sordid past drop a baby on your doorstep and coerce you into marrying her. At least that was how the press was spinning it.

His publicist, Charity, had been wearing holes in the carpet in front of his desk most of the day, strategizing with him on how they were going to contain this mess and maintain his reputation for being a sharp-minded businessman who didn’t put up with anyone’s bullshit. More than once he’d caught her looking at him from under her lashes, no doubt wondering like everyone else how a woman like Lucy had gotten her hooks into him when every socialite in Texas hadn’t been able to snare him.

The whole thing pissed him off to no end. Lucy was his wife. Poppy was his daughter. He was taking care of his responsibilities and building a life with the woman he loved. And damn it all if he didn’t love her so much he could hardly catch his breath sometimes. She scared the shit out of him at the same time as she made him gladder than any man had a right to be. He looked forward to going home at the end of the day and hated to leave at the beginning.

He didn’t give two shits what anyone else thought of him, but it killed him what they were saying about Lucy. More importantly, it would kill her to know what they were saying. She was smart enough to have picked up that he was having business problems and considered herself a liability to him. When she’d offered divorce in the car the other day, he’d about lost his shit. The last thing he wanted was a divorce. They’d find a way to work through this.

That bastard Walker would be caught, and the publicity surrounding them would die down, and everything would go back to normal. Or at least a semblance of normalcy. Lucy moving her things into the master bedroom had become a symbol to him of them having a real marriage. Instead he still visited her every night like a boyfriend, coming across the hall and knocking on her door for a sleepover. Not that he was complaining. Hell no.

They’d come miles from where they’d started. And while there were still times when she’d panic and make him stop or pull out, there were other times when he glimpsed the old Lucy. His Lucy. In those moments she’d drop her head back and enjoy what they did together. Uninhibited and wild, letting her intense sexuality free, was when she was the real Lucy. He’d come to live for those moments and tried to invent new ways to make them come out.

They were building something unexpected and necessary together, and he hated the thought that people on the outside would try to tear it down before they’d gotten a chance to explore it. And he hated that he was going to have to ask Lucy to go in front of a camera to tell her side of the story. His publicist, Charity, had thought she’d be great in an interview with her girl-next-door looks and his baby on her hip. They’d film it at their home to really highlight the family-man image Cal needed to show the public to rebuild his reputation.

He glanced down at the script on the desk in front of him. Lucy would have to memorize her part to make sure she stayed on message, Charity had said. And to make sure she didn’t ad-lib something they didn’t want broadcasted. When he’d proposed marriage to Lucy, he had no idea he’d be asking her to do more than the occasional dinner party or charity event. He certainly hadn’t expected her to be the key to potentially saving Sellers Investments.

His reservations about having her do this interview ran as deep as his need for her to do it. She was still so fragile. He worried what the pressure of it would do to her. Charity and the board might not like it, but if Lucy said no to the interview, then she wouldn’t do it. Consequences be damned.

“What about this one?” Charity held up a matching blue blouse and skirt. The color reminded him of Lucy’s eyes.

“I like it. And that pink set too.”

Charity had had his assistant, Felicia, pick up several outfits for Lucy to try on and decide which she was more comfortable in for the interview. He was relieved to see that there was no frilly fifties-style apron or string of pearls to really drive home the wife-and-mother point.

“What have you got for the ball?” he asked.

Charity showed him a half-dozen dresses. In the end he told her to send them all to the house for Lucy to select one for the annual Dallas Young Professionals Ball. Cal was set to give the keynote speech this year. As his wife she was expected to attend and be properly dressed. He’d already purchased a sapphire-and-diamond necklace and earring set that matched her engagement ring for her to wear at the event and instructed Charity to choose dresses that would go with them.

He only hoped Lucy wouldn’t think all this work had been done for her because she couldn’t be trusted to turn up in something appropriate. Who was he kidding? That was
exactly
why all this work had been done on her behalf. His publicist wanted Lucy to wear a dress that would be—in her words—flattering, yet modest, appropriate, yet cutting edge, tasteful, yet elegant. Whatever all that bull meant. All he really wanted was for Lucy to look and feel beautiful. And if the dress showed a lot of cleavage, he’d be extra happy, but he had a feeling that tasteful meant a lack of exposed skin.

As soon as Charity left he gathered up his things, anxious to see his wife and daughter. Felicia knocked and then entered the room, shutting the door behind her.

“What is it, Felicia?” Cal asked.

“I know you’re about to head home, but Mrs. Gleason is here. She says it’s urgent.”

He snapped his briefcase closed and set it next to his desk. “Send her in.”

He finished setting his desk to rights as Felicia went to get Anne Gleason. He wondered what could be so all-fired important that she needed to see him at six o’clock in the evening without her husband. This couldn’t be good.

Anne swept into the room, wearing one of those dresses that tied around the neck and pushed a woman’s breasts up to her chin. He had to give it to her, she had nice tits, but they didn’t hold a candle to Lucy’s. Still he looked. He was a guy after all, and she’d put them out there to be looked at.

“Cal, darling. Thank you for seeing me without an appointment.”

She hit him with her whole body, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a full-on kiss on the lips. Behind her he saw Felicia’s scowl before she shut the door. Shit.

He unwound Anne’s arms and pushed her back. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Gleason?”

She had the nerve to pout as she stroked the lapel of his suit jacket. “Now, Cal, I thought we were friends. When you call me Mrs. Gleason, it makes me think of my mother-in-law, and she was an awful bitch. Call me Anne.”

He pulled her hand off him and gestured for her to have a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. “Please have a seat…Anne.”

Instead of doing what he wanted her to do, she propped her hip on top of his desk and leaned forward so he had a clear view down the front of her dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“I’m so glad you could see me. I wanted to thank you again for the lovely dinner at your house,” she said.

“Your thanks belong to Lucy. She did all the work. I’ll be sure to pass them along to her again.”

“Joel was quite taken with her. It was Lucy this and Lucy that all the way home. He’s become a bit obsessed. So I’ve come to invite you to dinner in our home. Just the two of you. We’ve got a wonderful wine cellar, so you might want to plan for an overnight stay so you can thoroughly enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll arrange for a driver that evening. What night are we talking about?”

“Oh, the sooner the better. How about this Friday, say around seven? Dress casually. I’m thinking of having Indian food. We’ll sit on pillows on the floor. It will all be very decadent and intimate.”

Lucy was going to hate spending another evening with the Gleasons, especially in a setting they couldn’t control. But he really couldn’t afford to say no. Buying Joel Gleason’s company would give him what he needed to not have to depend on investors for future projects. And he was looking forward to the day when he wouldn’t have to deal with investors.

“Let me check with Lucy to make sure we don’t already have plans, and get back to you.”

She clapped her hands together. “Lovely. I hope you can make it. I have something
very special
in mind for us.” She winked and hopped off his desk, making her breasts jiggle. Before he could stop her, she planted another kiss on his lips, then walked out the door with a wiggle of her ass.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then rubbed off her lipstick with one of the hand-stitched handkerchiefs Lucy had made him. If the way Anne behaved was any indication, they were going to be spending the evening getting backed into corners and swatting away hands. There was no way he was going to subject Lucy to that. He’d have to find another way to persuade Joel to sell him his company.

*****

Lucy stared at the gorgeous clothes scattered across her bed and hanging from the back of the closet doors. There was no note, just a comment from their housekeeper Hazel about how they were for her from Cal. Six evening gowns with matching shoes and bags and four different skirt-and-blouse combinations with accessories. What could they be for? She’d already bought what she thought was a nice dress for the Dallas Young Professionals Ball next week. Did he not trust her judgment?

She hadn’t spent as much on her dress as these dresses must have cost, but hers was still nice. And it fit. Fitting had been an issue in the dressing room and the reason she hadn’t bought the dress she’d really wanted. That and the money. She couldn’t bring herself to pay more than she would’ve if she’d been using her own money instead of Cal’s. It just didn’t feel right to her.

There was a knock on her bedroom door. She opened it to find Cal filling up the doorway. Her body reacted before her mind could with a stuttering in her chest followed by a flush that brought a tightening of her nipples and a wetness between her legs. If he threw her on the bed right now, she’d be ready to take him. It was as though her body recognized him as her mate and prepared itself for him. She’d never felt this with any other man except Cal. It both frightened and thrilled her.

“Hello, darlin’.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

She loved how he called her darlin’ with that long, slow drawl of his like a long, slow, full-body caress. Heat flashed through her again, and she was sure her cheeks were as pink as her blouse.

“Hey there, cowboy. How was your day?”

“Better now that I’m home. Can I come in?”

She opened the door wider, inviting him in. She loved how he asked her permission, putting her in control. He’d said he liked it and that it kept him honest, but she had a suspicion he wasn’t confident he’d get a yes every time. That had to be the most attractive thing about this new Cal. This man who was her husband and lover had given her the gift to heal at great personal risk.

“Ah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, surveying the clothes scattered across the bedroom. “I see the delivery arrived.”

“I’m assuming there’s a reason you did this.”

“It wasn’t so much me as my publicist, Charity. She seems to feel that the right clothes make the right impression.”

“I see. So until now I’ve been making the wrong impression?”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and held them palms up. “No, darlin’, not at all. That isn’t why these clothes are here.”

“So why are they here?”

“The dresses are for the ball. Charity says that as my wife you have to look the part, especially now with the negative publicity because of your asshole ex.”

“I already bought a dress though.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know that.” He walked over and examined three of the dresses that hung from the back of one of the closet doors. “I did have one requirement that it looks like Charity somehow managed to fulfill.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling insecure about this Charity fulfilling any of Cal’s
requests
. “What was that?”

He pulled a long, thin, lidded box from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and held it out to her. “They had to go with these.” When she didn’t immediately take it, he extended it out farther. “Go on. Open it.”

She accepted the box, frowning over the expensive gold lettering from an upscale jeweler downtown. “What is it?”

“Open it.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

“I know.”

She pulled the ribbon off and lifted the lid. Nestled inside was a fine filigree pendant with pearls, sapphires, and diamonds on a long, thin chain and a pair of earrings that perfectly matched. She couldn’t stop staring at them, tracing a finger over the intricate design that matched the engagement ring he’d given her. It was too extravagant and too expensive for someone like her, but she loved it. She absolutely loved it.