Seduce Me (3 page)

“Yum.”

He was occasionally featured in the gossip pages, usually noted as the companion for some famous model when she was entering a trendy club or restaurant.  Faith had other pictures of him too, more candid shots that Harold had had taken over the past decade.

Lucas Merriweather wasn’t the only one who could hire a private detective.  If he had any notion of how meticulously his grandfather had tracked him, he’d probably faint.

“They’re coming after the money,” Faith said.

Grace shrugged.  “Harold knew they would.”

“They’ll fight dirty.”

“So will we.”  Grace reached over and patted Faith’s hand.  “They won’t be able to take it from you.  Don’t worry.  Harold was very careful in how he drafted his will.”

“I hate to bicker, though.  They have so much, and we have just this tiny bit.  Why can’t they leave us alone?”

“They’re sharks; they’re used to feeding on people like us.”

“Maybe we’ll give them heartburn.”

“We can only hope.”

The front door slammed, and children’s feet raced toward them.  Her dog, a mutt named King,
woofed
a greeting.

“Faith, Faith,” a little girl called, “where are you?”

“We’re in the kitchen, Peanut.”

Penelope—Peanut to everyone—skipped into the room.  She was four and had recently learned to skip, so she was very proud of it.  Her mop of black curls bounced with each hop. 

Ten-year-old Bryce came in too.  He resembled Peanut, with her same dark hair and striking blue eyes, but he had none of her perky exuberance.  He was possessed of an inquisitive mind, was quiet and perceptive, and he moved with the ease of a dancer or athlete. 

They were Harold’s adopted children.  Faith’s children now.  The money was theirs, and she’d never give it up.

“There’s a car outside,” Peanut said.

“Really?  What kind?”

“A fancy one!”

“A Porsche,” Bryce clarified.  “There’s a man driving it.  He’s studying the house.”

“Interesting,” Faith mused.

Gracie grinned.  “Why do I suppose it’s Lucas Merriweather?”

“Why would you automatically assume it’s him?”

“He was planning to bully you into submission, right?”

“Yes.”

“But now that he’s met you, he realizes it won’t work, so he has to try a different tactic.”

“Like what?”

“Friendship, seduction, bribery.  It’s hard to tell what he’ll choose.”  Gracie nodded toward the street.  “Go talk to him.  See what he wants.”

Faith rose and started out, her small family trailing after her.  She stopped and peeked out the front window.  The driver had exited the car and was leaned against the passenger side, his arms cross over his muscled chest.

Sure enough, it was Lucas, all six feet, one-hundred-eighty pounds of him.  He was wearing a leather jacket that accented his broad shoulders.  A white tee stretched over his great pecs.  Tight jeans hugged his long legs.  Scuffed boots made him appear tough and dangerous. 

His black hair was a little too long, his blue eyes a little too jaded.  He could have been a fallen angel or the bad boy from high school your mother warned you about.

What on earth could he want?

Gracie checked him out and clucked her tongue.  “Ooh, I wish I was five years younger.”

“Down girl,” Faith murmured, and she went outside.

She stood on her porch, assessing him as intently as he was assessing her, and a frisson of concern slithered down her spine.  She was definitely in the middle of a
moment
, as if fate had intervened and her life would never be the same.

For a brief interlude, she huddled there, afraid to speak or walk toward him.  Then he smiled, gifting her with the full force of his dynamic charm, and she remembered that she loathed him.

She wondered how many women he’d smiled at just that way, and she shook herself out of her stupor and marched down the steps.

“Hello Merriweather.”  She smiled her brightest smile too.  If he could preen and attempt to seduce, so could she.  “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hello, Miss Benjamin.  Or since you married Harold, maybe I should call you grandmamma.”

“That makes me sound so old,” she pouted.

He raised an imperious brow.  “You’re the one who wed a ninety-year-old man.  The title comes with the territory.”

“Did you travel all this way just to insult me?  Or did you have some other purpose in mind?”

Her question was deliberately suggestive.  When she was with him, she couldn’t seem to behave.  He overwhelmed her better sense, oozing so much testosterone that she had no ability to deflect the onslaught.

She approached him until she was so close that her thigh brushed his jeans.  It was a beautiful summer afternoon, and she was dressed in flip-flops, shorts, and a halter top.  Her hair was down and curled around her shoulders, so she looked nothing like the stuffy lawyer he’d encountered at Carolyn Stone’s office.

Back then, he’d tried to keep his gaze where it belonged.  Now, with her barely clothed, he was happy to let his attention roam. 

His eyes dropped to her cleavage, to her breasts that were scarcely constrained by the stretchy fabric of her tiny top.  A flash of desire shot through her torso and out to her extremities.  His focus was so potent that she was electrified by it.  If she’d pointed her finger, sparks would have flown from the tip.

He was aware of the effect he had, and he smirked as if she’d reacted exactly as he’d expected. 

He leaned toward her so they were inches apart.  Was he thinking of kissing her?  Would he dare? 

“How long were you married?” he murmured.

His query was bland and casual, but his tone made it seem as if she’d been propositioned.  Her cheeks flushed, her temperature rose ten degrees.

“Six weeks.”

“Why, you’re practically a newlywed.  I should have brought a gift.”

“I only accept cash.”

“In the millions, I’ve heard.”

“It’s millions or nothing for me,” she blithely retorted.

“Doesn’t it bother you to be called a gold digger?”

“It might—if I was one.”

He snorted.  “You stole from my befuddled, dying grandfather, but you don’t feel you did anything wrong?”

“No, and it galls you, doesn’t it?”

“Absolutely.  But I’m not worried.  You won’t have the money for long.  I intend to take every penny.”

“You’re so mean,” she sarcastically cooed.

Behind her, the front door opened, and she glanced around to see that Gracie, Bryce, and Peanut had come outside.  King sat by Peanut, his tail thumping on the porch boards.

“Is that your family?”  He was puzzled, as if she was too bizarre a creature to be related to anyone.

“Yes.”

“Your kids?”

“Yes,” she said again as he studied them.  Would he notice any resemblances?

“The boy looks to be ten or eleven.  When did you give birth to him?  When you were a baby?”

“They’re Harold’s children,” she explained, but provided no more.  He could assume whatever he wanted.

“He fathered two kids in his eighties?  I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t care.”

He nodded at Gracie.  “And the flamboyant redhead?”

“My mother.”

“Figures,” he muttered.

He stared at them, as they stared back.  She could almost read his thoughts as he struggled to deduce what was indicated by the presence of the children.  He was smart, but arrogant and obtuse.  He’d never unravel the mystery, and even if he did, it didn’t matter.

He couldn’t harm them or her; Harold had made sure of it.

He wrenched his gaze away from them and shifted it to Faith again.  A surge of energy flickered between them.  She’d first noted it at the lawyer’s office, and she’d never felt anything like it before. 

She liked how he scrutinized her, as if she was hot and sexy and he might gobble her up.  It was his nature to be forward with females, and he looked at every woman the same way, but still, she enjoyed having his attention showered on her.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like you, and I don’t want you in my home.”

“Can’t I at least be introduced to your family?”

“No.”

In a flirtatious voice, Gracie piped up from the porch.  “You can come on in, honey.  If she won’t invite you, I certainly will.”

She was leaned on the railing, a hip cocked, her incredible bosom thrust out.

“Go inside, Gracie,” Faith snapped.

“You never let me have any fun.”

“Take the kids with you.”  None of them moved, and Faith added, “I need to talk to Mr. Merriweather.  Alone.”

“Oh, all right,” Gracie grumbled.  As she herded Bryce and Peanut through the door, she suggested, “Lucas, why don’t you give her a ride in your car?  Her opinion of you is awfully low.  It might be a way to impress her.”

“I just might try that, Gracie,” he replied.

She vanished, and as he watched the sway of her retreating backside, he chuckled.  “She’s interesting.  I see where you get your… charm.”

“She taught me everything I know.”  So he’d never beat her in any fight.  Gracie had a mind like a mathematician.  She’d compute all the angles before he’d even picked his course of action.

“What are you doing here, Merriweather?” she asked.

“Call me Lucas.  Everyone else in your family does.”

“Okay, Lucas.  Why are you here?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t have a clue.”

“Gracie figures you’re planning to befriend me, bribe me, or seduce me.  Which is it?”

“I can’t decide.  What tactic would work best?”

“I don’t need any new friends, and I have ten million dollars, so bribery is pointless.”  She let her gaze meander down his torso.  “Seduction might be intriguing.”

“You want me to seduce you?”

“Sure, why not?  Do you think you could?”

He scoffed.  “Do I think I
could?
  Is the sky blue?”

She didn’t understand why she was behaving so outrageously, but he brought out her worst traits.  She’d never met a man like him, and he stirred a pot of restlessness that was unusual for her.

She was content with her life, but when the air around her was charged with so much sexual energy, when he emitted such animal magnetism, she found herself craving things she’d never had, things she didn’t even want.  

“I’ve never been in a Porsche.”  She was anxious to break the tension.  “Let’s go for a ride.”

“Are you suggesting it because your mother said you should?”

“No, I’m suggesting it because I’d like to go for a ride.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll take advantage of you if we’re alone?”

It was her turn to scoff.  “You’re not big enough or bad enough to take advantage of me.”

“You might be surprised.”

“I doubt it.”

“You have such a sassy mouth.” 

He assessed her again, as if he might kiss her, and she actually squirmed with nerves.  Would he?  Right out on the street, with Peanut watching from the front window?

She had to be wrong.  He simply ignited so many synapses that she couldn’t concentrate.  He was probably thinking about what he’d had for lunch. 

“Are we going or not?” she asked.

“Your wish is my command.”

He bowed as if he was her servant, and he reached for the door to open it for her, but she grabbed the handle herself and slid into the soft leather seat.  He walked around the car and slipped behind the wheel.

He had Bryce’s same lanky grace, and Faith knew that he’d been a star baseball player in high school and college.  There’d been rumors he could have played professionally, but for some reason, he hadn’t tried.

Faith figured he was too lazy to expend the effort.  A career as an athlete would have required training and exertion, when he seemed more prone to idleness and vice.

He started the motor and whipped away from the curb, driving carefully, but very fast, so that she was pushed into the seat by the forward thrust.  In seconds, they were out of town and on the highway, climbing into the foothills.  They cruised hairpin turns, the valley floor falling away.

They raced higher and higher, the trees thinning, the cliffs steeper.  She kept surreptitiously glancing at his hands, his long, slender fingers expertly clutching the steering wheel.  He was so calm, so in control, and she had a feeling he lived his entire life that way, but she couldn’t ask him about himself. 

The stereo was on, the music very loud, so they couldn’t talk.  What would they have discussed anyway?

He was probably wired and recording her.  He was his father’s son, after all, and Harold had told her plenty of stories.  If even a tiny portion of them were true, the man had been a devious brute.

A bad seed,
Harold had often said of his own son, Lucas’s father. 
A real bad seed.

The windows were down, the summer wind lashing her hair.  She was grinning like a fool, waving at the wild flowers as they flew by.

A scenic pullout approached, and without warning, he veered off the road and skidded into a parking space.  As suddenly as they’d accelerated, they screeched to a stop.  The loss of momentum caused her to jerk against her seatbelt.

There were no other cars in the lot, and it was very quiet, the only noise the breeze in the trees and the pinging of the motor.

“Wow!” she said.  “That was…fun.”

She couldn’t come up with a better word to describe her sensation of euphoria.  She peered over at him, but he was gazing at her so intently that she was rattled by his expression.  She scrambled out of the car. 

She went over to a rock wall where she could stand and enjoy the spectacular view.  Far down below was the town of Boulder.  Even farther off to the right, the skyscrapers of downtown Denver looked like miniature toys.  Beyond the city, the golden prairie extended to the horizon, and she wondered if Kansas was out there somewhere.

At the higher elevation, the temperature was much cooler.  Goosebumps popped out on her legs, her nipples hardening into taut buds, and she crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to hide what she wasn’t eager for him to see.

“It’s colder up here,” he said, walking up behind her.