The Tycoon Meets His Match (13 page)

“That sure narrows it down.”

It was her turn to ignore him. In truth, she had her own ideas about their whereabouts but she wasn’t ready to share them. Her guess was that Bobby would head home to lick his wounds, dragging Lucie to New Orleans with him.

But before she shared that tidbit with Rhys, and opened herself to further argument, she meant to be sure of her facts. “I think we should do what you suggested earlier,” she told him. “Find that shopping center, check our messages. And maybe we can find a bite to eat.”

That perked him up a bit. “Food would be good. And I seem to remember a clothing store. I wouldn’t mind new pants and maybe a shirt. Something clean, and a little less Beach Boy.”

Trae had to laugh at his tone of disgust.

Nor did he get any happier once they reached the shopping center and he discovered his only choice for clothing was a Western-wear store called Dudes R Us. Stalling until after their breakfast of eggs, bacon and mouthwatering biscuits, he finally settled for a pair of jeans, a red plaid flannel shirt and work boots. Leaving him to change into the new outfit, Trae hurried off to find a pay phone.

She had a message from her brother Vinny, warning that the strike was ongoing, and two calls from her mother, demanding she get in touch with them. “Not now, Ma,” Trae mumbled into the phone, but she froze once she heard Lucie’s tremulous voice, her “Why don’t you ever answer your phone?” eerily reminiscent of the previous messages from her mother.

But as Lucie went on, betraying her fear and confusion, Trae felt an uncomfortable tension knot up in her throat. It became painfully clear that Lucie was having second thoughts about running away. And, as usual, was counting on Rhys to come to the rescue.

She’s changing her mind again, Trae thought uneasily as she replayed the disjointed message. Picturing Lucie, clinging to the receiver in some dark, deserted roadside pay phone, Trae could see how her friend might lose her resolve. Compared to the none-too-reliable Bobby, of course Rhys would look like a prince. Given the circumstances, it would be easy for any female to convince herself that she did indeed love Rhys enough to get married.

And right now, Lucie was too upset, too vulnerable, to make such a life-altering decision.

Which was why Trae was here, she must never forget, baking under the scorching Nevada sun in this awful pink running suit, after traipsing from coast to coast and all points in between. Her
only
purpose, her only reason for this quest, was to make sure Lucie didn’t get railroaded into a marriage she’d regret for the rest of her life.

But did that include developing feelings for the groom-to-be herself?

Trae glanced over her shoulder at Dudes R Us. Rhys would be coming through that door any moment and once he heard this message, Lucie’s fate would be sealed. He’d coax and cajole and bully until the poor girl agreed to be his wife.

Just then, a computerized voice came on to describe her options. Replay. Save. Or…

Delete the message,
Trae’s inner voice told her. If she did, Rhys would never know about it. But as her finger hovered over the number-three button, she could all but hear her mother admonish, “Nice girls don’t screen calls.”

Just what she needed, another battle with her conscience.

But this wasn’t about her, she insisted again. It was about Lucie, and the man’s bullying was the last thing her friend needed. Besides, if Lucie wanted Rhys knowing what she was thinking, she’d have dialed his number instead.
Trae
was the one she’d called.
Trae
was the one she trusted, the one who would help her figure this whole marriage business out.

It wouldn’t be easy, though, Trae realized as she pressed number three and hung up the receiver. For one thing, it meant keeping secrets, something Trae had never been any good at. All Rhys had to do was take one good look at her face…

She blushed as she remembered how it felt to be under his scrutiny.

Shaking her head, she walked over to the car to wait for him. As she eyed the small interior, it was all she could do not to shudder. That would be the hardest part, being in such close proximity to the man for another few days. Obviously, she’d have to watch herself, make sure there were no slips. She should probably keep the banter going. Keep things light, impersonal and never, ever even think about last night.

Momentary insanity, that’s what it had been, and this morning, well, call it residual lust. Nothing she couldn’t handle, nothing she couldn’t control.

Daunted by how much she suddenly sounded like Paxton, she looked up to see him walking toward her.

He looks good in jeans, she thought inanely. Then again, the man looked good in everything.

She could do this, she insisted. She had to. For Lucie.

“Good news,” she announced when he was a few steps away. “I know where they went.”

He looked up, smiling, and her heart skipped a beat.

Enough of that, she told herself sternly as she opened the driver’s-side door. She had to stay focused on the task ahead of her. It would be no easy feat to convince him to drive to Louisiana.

“I was right,” she said over the top of the car. “She took off with Bobby. They’re headed back to his place in New Orleans.”

“New Orleans?” he faltered a step. “But that’s halfway across the country.”

“Only half of halfway, actually.” With a lame smile, she got behind the wheel, and waited as he took the seat next to her. “Still, it’s going to take a couple days to get there. We’ll have to take turns driving.”

He shook his head in obvious disbelief. “You expect to drive all the way to Louisiana?”

“You see another choice? According to my brother, the airport is a mess. That strike is still on. And other airlines are booked solid because of it. We’ll never get a flight.”

“But what if we do all that driving and still miss them again?”

She shook her head. “First of all, they’re driving, too. Second, they have only a day’s head start, if that. If we leave right now and keep a decent pace, we can make up the difference. Who knows, we might even beat them to Bobby’s place.”

“Hurry? In that car?” He looked appalled at the prospect. “I can’t afford another speeding ticket. Two tickets, considering I still don’t have my license. Hey, maybe even three, since we’ll be violating the lease if we don’t take the car back and return it out of state.”

“Details.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I swear, Paxton, must you be such a stickler for the rules?”

“Try this rule, then. If we don’t return it tonight, they’re well within their rights to report the car stolen.”

“So we call and tell them we’ve been held up,” she told him airily. “Just say you need to keep the car a few more days. It’s even the truth, more or less.” She stabbed the key in the ignition. “C’mon, it’ll be fun,” she coaxed as she started the engine. “This can’t be the only road trip you’ve ever been on. I mean, jeez, Paxton, what the heck did you do in college, anyway?”

“I was at Yale, busy getting a business degree. I was told that was the purpose of higher education.”

“Silly boy,” Trae scoffed. “College is a kid’s last chance to find out what he or she is made of. And trust me, nothing tests your inner mettle quite like a road trip.”

“Really? And what pearl of wisdom did you glean in Cancun? That you never want to spend another day inside a Mexican prison?”

“If you must know,” she told him tightly, “I learned something far more Machiavellian. Watching you in action, I saw how sometimes, the end
does
justify the means.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. Back then, you moved mountains to save Lucie, and as far as I can see, the challenge is no different today. You and/or I have to do whatever it takes to rescue her from Bobby, even if it means driving all the way to New Orleans. I’m certainly up to it. The only real question here is, are you with me or against me?”

He shook his head. “Hey, don’t expect any endorsements from me. I’m just going along for the ride.”

“In that case,” she told him as she backed out onto the road. “Fasten your seat belt, Paxton. You’re about to take the ride of your life.”

Trae kept staring ahead, concentrating on her driving, acting as if he wasn’t even in the car with her. As if getting too close to him might lead to serious contamination.

He’d been content to let this go on for the first hundred miles or so, figuring that the less said between them the better, but this was getting ridiculous. Not that he missed her chatter, mind you. He didn’t need any more chiding, either, but there were times, like now, when he had to know what was going on in her pretty little head.

For instance, did she keep flashing back, like he did, to the night before?

As if to shake him back to his senses, the car hit another bump in the road. They both winced, though Trae continued to keep her gaze on the road ahead.

“Maybe we should check again on the airline strike. I can get us tickets—”

“With what? You planning on hocking your broken watch?”

He couldn’t help but glance at his bare wrist, any more than he could stop himself from correcting her. “Now that I’ve found my wallet and I no longer have to report my stolen cards….”

“Whoa.” That got her attention—and not in a good way. “Back up a minute, Paxton,” she said, fixing her piercing green gaze on him. “Josh found your wallet?”

Rhys wished he had kept his mouth shut. “If you must know, I scoured the car again during our last stop. I found it wedged between the seat and middle console. Must have slipped out of my pocket. I don’t know how I missed it before,” he added sheepishly.

“I knew it!” She pounded a hand on the wheel. “You owe poor Josh an apology.”

He might have to endure her I-told-you-so, but he didn’t need to add on any more humiliation. “I can’t see why
poor
Josh would want anything more to do with me.”

She glanced over at him again, tilting her head and frowning. “Wait a minute. When did you find this out?”

“I checked the car while you got gas.” He’d also checked his messages, hoping he, too, would have heard from Lucie. He hadn’t. The fact that she’d called Trae instead still rankled.

“And when were you planning on telling me? Never?”

A good estimate, actually. “I can’t see how it concerns you.”

He watched her stiffen. “You’re right, of course. Your being solvent again doesn’t impact me at all. Unless you were planning on using your resources to try to buy tickets. You do know that it would mean that you’re conceding that I won our bet?”

That stupid wager. “A Paxton never concedes,” he told her stiffly.

She merely smiled.

“Don’t worry,” he said, irritated by her smugness. “I can gut it out a few more days. Hey, I’ve got this great ride, all the fast food I could ever want to eat, and let’s not forget the spiffy new outfit.”

She laughed. An all-out, throw-back-your-head expression of humor. His mother would call the display unrefined and unladylike, but Rhys found himself smiling. There was something infectious in her laughter, something sexy in the arch of her soft, white throat.

She glanced over and caught him staring at her. Blushing to the roots of her hair, she instantly looked away. Pity, he thought. The color did nice things to her face.

“In a few days those jeans will be fine,” she told him just as stiffly. “You just have to break them in.”

“They’re pants, for crying out loud, not a horse. I thought buying off the rack was ready-to-wear clothing.”

“Are you always this hard to please?”

The question caught him off guard, as did her disapproving tone. “Excuse me?”

“Not everyone can afford designer jeans, you know. If you want the truth, despite our winnings, we really can’t afford any new clothes at the moment. I just thought, well, you seemed so miserable in Josh’s shorts and a new outfit might make your ordeal a bit more bearable. I guess I was wrong. I’m beginning to wonder if anything will make you stop grumbling.”

His first reaction was to protest that proper transportation, food and clothing were all he required, but even he could hear how pompous that sounded—“proper” being such a relative term. Given the limited funds, he had to admit that Trae was doing her best to provide all three. Yes, he was accustomed to finer things but his griping made him sound infantile, not to mention ungrateful.

“You’re right,” he said suddenly. “I have been behaving badly.”

That drew her gaze. For the longest moment, she just stared at him with her head tilted slightly to the side. “Hmm,” was all she said as she turned back to focus on her driving.

Rhys felt compelled to fill in the silence. “This is all new ground for me. It’s not easy to admit, but I’m glad we joined forces. I’m not sure I could have gotten this far without your help.”

As painful as his concession speech had been, it was worth every ache to see the slow, budding smile on her face. “Wow.”

“I’m not a total jerk, Trae. It’s, well, let’s just say this business with Lucie has me rattled. I don’t understand her lack of communication. I mean, I’m usually the first one she calls.”

Trae grimaced but said nothing.

“I’m the one she always contacts when she’s in trouble. No offense, but why is she now calling you?”

She shrugged. “You’re an intelligent guy, Paxton. You should be able to put it together. She leaves you at the church, runs off with an old boyfriend and then won’t talk to you. What do you think?”

Rhys tried hard not to do his own grimacing. “Hey, don’t hold back.”

“Sorry, that was harsh. I shouldn’t have put it so bluntly, but c’mon, hasn’t it occurred to you that you might be on a wild goose chase? That I am right, and maybe Lucie doesn’t want to get married?”

“She wants this marriage all right.” Rhys felt on solid ground with this. “We talked at length about it. She wants nothing more than to settle down and start a family.”

“Did she actually come up with this herself, or was it after you and/or her mother suggested it?”

All at once, his ground got shakier. He could remember Mitsy droning on at many a dinner party about how her daughter needed direction in her life, and really, what better purpose could a woman have than being a wife and mother?

“Okay, say you’re right,” he said, not convinced at all. “Tell me what Lucie does want, then.”

“That’s obvious. Excitement. Adventure. Fun.”

“Did she tell you this, or did she just agree after
you
suggested it?”

That made her pause. “Never mind,” she said with a frown. “The fact remains, she called me. Not you. And I’m the one who’s been telling her not to marry anyone unless she’s madly, deliriously, head-over-heels in love.”

Rhys was not convinced. “Lucie must have a logical explanation for why she hasn’t called,” he insisted. “And I’m certain she expects me to come after her. To bring her back home to be my wife.”

She studied him for a moment, then went back to her own reverie, leaving his words to hang between them. Staring out the window, watching the roadside whizzing past, Rhys replayed his last statement. Every syllable he’d uttered had been true, but all he could hear were the words he’d left out. The ones having to do with being madly, deliriously, head-over-heels in love.

Didn’t matter, he told himself firmly. He’d made a promise, and a Paxton never went back on his word.

Unlike Lucie
….

He shook off the thought.

“Okay,” Trae said at last. “Say you’re right. Say you do drag her back and nothing I say can talk her out of going through with this marriage. It’s a long time between now and death-do-you-part. Unless you change, I can’t see how you ever hope to pull it off.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Being the right husband for her. Making her happy. I’m sorry, but Lucie is very special to me. I can’t sit back and watch her being miserable for the rest of her life.”

“Well thank you very much for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m not saying you’d do it intentionally.” She nibbled on her lower lip, choosing her words with care. “I know you mean well, Paxton, but you still don’t have a clue.”

“About what?”

She shook her head, as if he just proved her point. “About what makes Lucie happy. No doubt you can run spreadsheets and balance the books with the best of them, but you can’t handle women the way you run your company. If you ask me, you need a crash course on how best to deal with Lucie.”

She paused, then brightened considerably. “Hey, that’s a good idea. We can call it Lucie 101. I mean, we need a diversion, anyway, don’t we? Something to pass the time so we don’t…” She hesitated again, her face going pink. “Two more days in this car could be gruesome. This will give us something to do.”

“This?”

“Haven’t you been listening? I’m going to whip you into shape, mister. When I’m done, you’ll be the perfect husband.”

She seemed so proud of herself, but Rhys knew he had to nip this in the bud. Trae, turning him into the perfect husband? It sounded like a grade-B version of Frankenstein. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You don’t think Lucie deserves the best life can offer?”

“You know that I do.” He met her questioning gaze and was gratified when she looked away first. “Look, Trae, I’m sure you’d like nothing more than to reinvent me, but there’s got to be a better way to get through the next two days.”

“Such as?”

He shrugged, having no real idea. He had to get her talking about something else. “You must have taken trips as a kid. Played games in the car.”

Her grin held a hint of mischief. “Well, there’s always punch buggy.”

“Punch what?”

“Buggy, as in a VW bug. The grin deepened. “Say you see a Beetle and it’s blue. If you’re the first one to shout, ‘punch buggy blue,’ you get to punch the other guy in the arm.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Not one bit. Let me tell you, with five older brothers, I got real quick at spotting those bugs. To make sure I wasn’t the one with all the bruises at the end of the trip.”

Rhys could picture her as a kid, leaning forward and scanning the horizon, intent upon winning at all costs.

“C’mon, Paxton. You and your brother never played anything like that?”

“My parents split up when Jack was a baby. Jack went with my mother and…” He stopped, realizing he’d been about to discuss his childhood. “Never mind,” he said firmly. “Punch buggy is out.”

She gave him that look again, the one that showed she was curious, but to his surprise, she didn’t pry. “What, afraid you’ll lose?”

“Not at all. I just figure you’ll need full use of your arms for driving.”

“Listen to Mr. Macho. Just like my brothers.”

He had to smile at the disgust in her tone. “What, they always get the best of you, too?”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “They tried. Tony, especially. He was only a year older and six inches taller, but in his mind, girls were inferior beings, put on this earth to play run-and-fetch for him.”

“Poor Tony.”

“Damn straight. By the time I was ten, I figured out that if I didn’t soon put a stop to his bullying, Tony would be pushing me around for the rest of my life.”

“And how did you manage to stop him?” Rhys chuckled, anxious to hear her story.

“I challenged him to a wrestling match, no holds barred. Of course, being Tony, he just laughed. He never took me seriously. He said he couldn’t wrestle a stupid girl, insisted he didn’t want to hurt me. I had to kick him in the shins to get his attention.”

Rhys pictured them, this big, burly ape of a kid, and tiny little Trae shaking her fist in his face. “So, did you win?”

“Technically, no.” She sighed ruefully. “But I could have. I’d watched Tony wrestle our older brothers. I knew his weaknesses, knew all I had to do was trip him and get him on the ground. I almost had him pinned when my dad came along and dragged me off him, kicking and screaming. Had I been one of the boys, he’d have let us fight to the finish, but because I was a girl, the next thing I knew, I was sent off to St. Mary’s where the nuns—or so my parents hoped—could teach me to act like a lady.”

Rhys laughed. “And how did that work out?”

She shrugged. “I now teach at an exclusive girls’ academy. I can act like a lady when I have to.”

Yes, he’d seen her in action, at the occasional party at the Beckwith house. The many faces of Trae. “So, I take it there were no more wrestling matches?”

“I don’t know, Paxton. You need one?”

She didn’t look at him; she didn’t have to. Last night had been prelude enough of what could happen between the two of them, her flat on her back, their sweat-soaked bodies entwined…

Obviously, nobody was going to win that match.

“My point is,” she went on quickly, as if seeing the pitfall herself, “it’s reckless to get too cocky. Just about anybody, any time, can come along and knock you off your perch. Nobody wins all the time, Paxton. Not even you.”