скачать книгу бесплатно
So ignore this place. Just go get her, he told himself, reaching for the car door handle.
At that moment he saw her. She exited the building like a rabbit being chased by a fox, zipping out the door, glancing back over her shoulder with fear in her eyes.
Yeah, that was fear. He was familiar with the expression. Something had Genevieve Patchett spooked.
“No, please don’t get out,” she said, hurrying to the passenger side of his black sports car. “I—I don’t want to be late on my first day and … and someone might hurt your car if you leave it.”
She reached for the handle, practically dove for the thing.
He exited the car, ignoring her fluttering and flustered admonitions. Despite the fact that she was none of his concern, there were rules to be followed. Rules and discipline kept a person safe and helped maintain distance. They kept things under control, and being in control was … necessary. It had always been of supreme importance ever since he finally—thank the stars—realized that he didn’t have to be at the mercy of others’ damaging, self-serving whims. So …
“I’m not that worried about the car, Genevieve.” Without another word, he moved to the passenger door and opened it for her. But as they drove away, and despite himself, he couldn’t help wondering what it was that she was so afraid of.
And that kind of speculation would have to stop. He had no business thinking anything about Genevieve Patchett beyond the tasks they would share. He liked his world well-ordered—by him—and already he could see that she, with those vulnerable green eyes that betrayed her every emotion, would create the kind of havoc that he never allowed in his life. He didn’t get deeply involved. With anyone. Certainly not with his employees, so it was a good thing that she was here to do a job and a short-term job at that. Their paths would only run parallel for a very brief period of time.
Then he would never think about her ever again. Which was a very good thing, he reminded himself.
Still, for the moment, she was here, she was his employee. That alone made her his responsibility, and … she was wearing some pale blue lacy thing. A blouse.
With pencil-slim light-colored pants. Shoes with a little heel. Very stylish. No doubt very expensive, but not the kind of thing that would survive the day ahead.
He couldn’t hold back a frown. How had he let Teresa talk him into this, he thought, then reminded himself that he was the one who had hired Genevieve, not Teresa. Because Genevieve is a Patchett, he told himself. Because she has the required skills and a name that may prove useful. Having her name attached to this project would engender the kind of attention and cachet that was needed to make Angie’s House the next big “it” charity. It would get Angie’s House in the newspapers, so how Genevieve looked to him was unimportant.
Which was a good thing, because right now, he thought, glancing to the side, she looked very good. Those clothes might be impractical but they fit her curves to perfection. Her pink mouth looked very …
Small. Pink. Moist.
Darn it, McDowell, stop it. She’s off-limits. “Is that the plainest thing you have?” he asked, scattering all those inappropriate thoughts he was having.
She fidgeted with the door handle in what looked to be a nervous reaction. “I’m sorry. It was the only thing I had that was cotton.”
“Silk and satin more your thing?” He frowned again.
Genevieve took a deep breath. “I … I hadn’t anticipated all of this.”
He wasn’t sure what “all of this” entailed but she suddenly seemed even more vulnerable than she had before. He wondered once again at the wisdom of hiring her. Could she handle this job?
“I told you about how all my employees get involved on the ground floor, but I didn’t explain how monumental this task is. The building where Angie’s House will be located is a total mess. I’m afraid your clothes are going to get pretty dirty.”
She gave a small nod, as if she was used to being handed bad news. And he guessed she was of late, given that her money was all gone.
“If my clothes get dirty, then I’ll wash them,” she said in a small, quiet voice. “I need to learn to do things like that. I’m not afraid of work, Mr. McDowell.”
Maybe she believed that, but she hadn’t seen the inside of this place yet. Her hands were pale cream, soft. Hands that didn’t do manual labor or come into contact with dirt on any kind of a regular basis. And the mere fact that she was learning how to do things like wash a blouse practically screamed “privileged.” Unlike her, he hadn’t been born to wealth, even if he had plenty of money now. He knew how to use his hands, and with the tight schedule he’d set for the completion of this project, he didn’t have time to baby her.
This was a deadline that couldn’t be missed … for numerous reasons. The opening date was significant in ways he preferred not to think about, but there was also the fact that delaying things would result in innocent, needy people waiting longer for their chance to move in. Those people had no money and never had. There wasn’t a soft-skinned, lace-and-satin princess in the bunch.
“I don’t have time to baby you,” he said as if his brain had somehow foolishly directed him to say what he was thinking. Or maybe because a part of him hoped that if he was callous with her, he would stop wanting another glimpse of those big green eyes.
“I assure you that I don’t need special treatment.” But despite the softness of her voice, he could tell that he had offended her. That was unprofessional of him. It was unacceptable. Getting personal with his employees for good or for ill was not allowed.
“What do you need?” he asked.
A slight tremble visibly rippled through her delicate frame. She seemed to consider her words carefully. “Honesty—that is, I would be happy for simple, honest work.”
So she’d started to tell him she needed honesty, then had probably decided that it was the wrong thing to say to her boss. The obvious response was to simply tell her that he would be honest with her. But he wasn’t going to say that. He had learned long ago to do what was necessary, and what was necessary wasn’t always honest or pretty. He had been raised in a harsh world of broken promises, so the only promises he made were of the most limited variety.
“You’ll have honest work and I’ll pay you well for it,” he said. It was, after all, all that he had to offer anyone.
“Thank you, Mr. McDowell.”
The weariness in her soft voice made him feel like a jerk. The relationship already felt strained, and that was a problem. For the next few weeks, they would be working together and they would need to work quickly. He needed her cooperation. He needed her not to call him Mr. McDowell, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Maybe he didn’t want to know why.
“Just Lucas.”
“Lucas, then. I may not have been raised to be self-sufficient, but I intend to learn how to be totally independent. I have to be independent, to know that I can rely on myself to do it all. I want that more than anything. So, there’s no cheating allowed. No shortcuts such as looking for someone to marry, support or save me. I need to become totally self-sufficient, to do this and do it well, so don’t worry about the blouse.”
She smiled, a bit uncertainly, and he couldn’t help but be affected by those tell-all-her-secrets eyes and her naïveté. She had no clue what she was doing, but she was going to do it. Her determination when the odds were stacked against her made him want to learn more about her, and that wasn’t allowed. He didn’t get involved with anyone and especially not with someone like Genevieve. Because despite, or maybe because of, his association with Angie’s House and the situation that had driven him to take on this project, vulnerable women were poison to his soul, a reminder of times he wanted to forget. That wasn’t going to change.
Genevieve quickly scrambled to exit the car. She didn’t want Lucas thinking she expected him to open her door or give her any special favors.
Still, when he threw open the door of the house, she had to fight not to exclaim. The entryway was huge, and while there was very little furniture, what was there was absolutely caked in dust and dirt. Cobwebs hung everywhere, and the few cobwebs she had ever encountered in her life prior to this had sent chills running up her spine. In addition, there was plaster scattered over the filthy floor where part of the chandelier had come loose and pulled part of the ceiling with it. The windows were grimy.
“How long has this been empty?” she couldn’t help asking. “And why?”
“Years. It was originally a smaller house, enlarged and then enlarged again by a man who won the lottery, then lost all his money at a dizzying speed. It’s too big and costly for the rest of the neighborhood, not in a good enough location for anyone who could afford it. So, it sat here, unwanted and out of place for years, ever since he walked away from it. No one knew what to do with it.”
Something cold and steel-like in the way he had said “unwanted and out of place” made Genevieve turn to look at him, but his expression gave nothing away.
“Why … I don’t understand. Why would you choose it, then?”
The smallest of smiles lifted his lips. Far from making him look less dangerous, it made him seem more handsome. The flutter it brought to her stomach practically screamed “step away from the gorgeous man, Gen. This one will hurt you.”
“I’m sorry. Did I say something funny? Or wrong?” she asked.
Lucas stared directly into her eyes, pinning her so that she felt powerless to look away. The flutter intensified. She almost backed up a step to try to curb her too-feminine reaction to him. “I suppose I’m not used to hiring members of the privileged class,” he said. “Most employees steer away from questioning my motives.”
Uh-oh. Her lack of experience was showing. “I shouldn’t have asked,” she observed.
“No. Ask what you want to know. I’ll answer if I feel it’s pertinent to the project. In this case, you’re dead-on. We needed a big building, but not one that would attract a lot of attention. Tucked away in this low-income but solid and safe residential area, the women of Angie’s House won’t stand out. They can move around in safety, become members of the community and, for once in their lives, have a place where they can—hopefully—heal and find some joy and satisfaction, unfettered by fear. The building suits our needs perfectly. Come on. I’ll show you around.”
She wanted to say no. There was something so empty and sad about the house. The fact that someone had built it during a happy time in their life and then lost all that happiness hit far too close to home. But my misfortune was partly my own fault, she reminded herself. The signs about Barry had been there, but she had ignored them. There had been times during their engagement when Barry had seemed shallow or uncaring of others and she had ignored it because her parents had liked him, her friends had admired him, and some of that admiration seemed to rub off on her.
Plus, while Barry had turned out to be a first-class jerk who had stolen much of her fortune while she’d been mourning the loss of her parents, the truth was that she’d had years before that to educate herself about her finances and she hadn’t bothered to make the slightest effort. Even if she’d thought about questioning what Barry was doing, she wouldn’t have known what questions to ask. If she’d known more, she might have saved herself, but now it was too late. The damage was done. There was no going back.
That was a good thing in only one way. She’d been forced to her knees and she wouldn’t make the mistake of relying on anyone that way ever again.
“Lead on,” she said, mustering some bravado. “I’m ready.” For anything. But that last thought was a total lie. If Lucas smiled again and the hard line of his mouth softened again … well, now Genevieve finally understood what Teresa had meant when she fretted that Lucas might be too dangerous for her friend. She’d just been admonishing herself for being too trusting with one man and here she was staring at Lucas’s mouth when he was a man who was obviously, glaringly someone she had no business thinking about at all beyond the job.
So stick to business, she told herself. Try to figure out what’s required and do a good job. Otherwise, Lucas would have no reason to keep her. She would be cast aside by one more man.
She couldn’t let that happen. From now on, she was going to throw herself into this project with every ounce of her being. Down that road lay freedom, redemption, independence. “I can’t wait to get started,” she said.
Lucas raised one dark brow.
“I mean it,” Genevieve said. She needed to earn her first money, pay her overdue bills, prove herself and reclaim her self-respect.
Closing her eyes to her lack of experience, she tried not to panic at the thought of the massive task ahead. “Where should I begin?” She glanced toward the brooms and rags and cleaning supplies in one corner.
“Today we’ll just get you acclimated. I want you to get a feel for the building and the possibilities, what we need to accomplish. In time, there will be eight women living here, so you’ll want to get a sense of the space and help me decide what we’re going to do with it decorating and usage-wise. I deal in sporting goods and making money and I’ve spearheaded the construction of a number of stores, but I’m sure you’ll have more of an idea about what women might want or need in a dream home. You’re also the expert in decorating and events planning.”
“Okay. So … what type of events will those be?” Her heart was pounding so hard she was amazed Lucas couldn’t hear it. She had always been the behind-the-scenes person, not the up-front person.
“This house is in a residential neighborhood. We’ll want to make sure the locals are comfortable with us. For that, we’ll need to court them, to reassure them that the women here will be their neighbors, women committed to making life and this neighborhood a better place. This place—” he swung his arm out in an arc “—as I mentioned, is meant to be a place where women arrive broken and leave whole, with pride in who they are and who they can become.”
Genevieve couldn’t help herself then. “That’s wonderful. What you’re doing is wonderful.” She couldn’t help wondering what had sparked this project, but she didn’t dare ask. Maybe she was clueless about a lot of things, but something so far-removed from the realm of running the sporting goods empire Lucas had built his reputation on? It had to be personal.
To her surprise, he frowned at her compliment. “Wonderful is a very strong word. It doesn’t fit here. The fact is that I’m a very rich man, and I can get this started, but that’s not nearly enough. The real power lies in getting other people, lots of other people, behind Angie’s House and the next Angie’s House and the next. So when we’re done with the renovation, we’ll open the doors. I want you to plan and oversee a major open house for the most elite members of the city. Our goal is to impress them and to impress upon them the need to get involved. Finally, you’ll help me find the women who’ll live here and the employees who’ll work here.”
She blinked, trying not to be overwhelmed, trying not to panic at what was going to be expected of her. Breathe, Gen, breathe. Take it easy. Take it one step at a time, she thought. Just take one tiny step. “Okay. That all makes sense. For now, I guess—I should probably get started on the cleaning. There’s a lot of building here.”
A whole lot of scrubbing for a woman who had never done anything like that.
There was that elusive hint of a smile again, the straight, hard line of his mouth barely curving up at one corner. What had she said that was so amusing?
“I’m sure this isn’t what you grew up doing and I don’t expect you to single-handedly tackle this mess. I have two helpers coming in. They’ll be assisting you as the project progresses and they’ll be doing most of the repairing, painting and cleanup. But they’ll respect you more if they see that you’re not afraid of getting a little dirt beneath your fingernails.”
Was that a dare? Genevieve had no idea and no real idea of how to begin. She wasn’t even sure how to make use of her helpers who would be coming soon. She’d never been in this kind of position, and her parents had been flighty, self-absorbed people who probably weren’t typical employers, so there was little use in trying to utilize her past experiences. Still, she didn’t want to ask too many questions. If she was supposed to be a project manager, shouldn’t she appear … managerial? She especially didn’t want to ask anything that would make her look foolish. Barry had often made fun of her naïveté.
“All right. That makes sense. And I’m not afraid.” Not of getting dirt under her fingernails, but of Lucas, a man who overwhelmed by his presence and his manner and his looks …? Yes, she was afraid, but she didn’t want to think about that.
Instead, she picked up a broom and began to sweep. With vigor and determination. Soon the dust was swirling, flying all around, clogging her throat.
She couldn’t hold back a cough.
Lucas appeared at her side. He touched her hand.
Just the lightest of touches, but when his flesh met hers, fierce heat swirled through her, her breath caught, her whole body became aware of him as a man. She jerked back, stopped sweeping.
“Easy, Genevieve. It’s just dust. You want to push it, not attack it. Like this.” He demonstrated.
She took back the broom, embarrassed that she couldn’t even manage the simplest of tasks. With some effort, she tried not to think about how Lucas’s fingertips had felt against her skin.
It couldn’t matter. Nothing could matter except succeeding. Moving on. Moving up. Learning. And getting good at being alone.
A mere two hours into the day, Lucas looked up to see that Genevieve was soaked to the skin. She was a total mess.
A beautiful mess, he corrected, then frowned at the thought. She was washing walls and water was sluicing down her arms, slicking away the layers of dirt she’d accumulated dusting and sweeping. The moisture turned her creamy skin shiny and damp and then sloshed onto her pale blue blouse, making it cling to her body.
But she wasn’t complaining.
A sliver of admiration slipped through him followed by something else. Something hot when he stared at that damp fabric encasing her slender form.
Knock it off, McDowell. She’s your employee. Your very temporary employee. And off-limits. In all ways.
Stifling a growl, Lucas threw down the cloth he was using to wash windows and went into the closet, where he had stashed a few changes of clothing. Removing a faded chambray shirt from a hanger, he walked over to
Genevieve. “You might want this. And … you probably don’t need to use that much water.”
She looked up at him through dazed eyes. Tired eyes. He realized that she’d been working like a dog since she arrived two hours ago. When she looked at the shirt and then glanced down at her chest, he could see the jolt of embarrassment rip through her. That creamy skin turned almost as rosy as her hair.
“I—thank you. Yes, less water. I’ll remember that,” she said as she hastily reached out, took the shirt and slipped into it. It was miles too big for her. Baggy. Good.
“Time for a break,” he said.
“No, I … I’m fine. I need to get this done. We’re on a tight schedule, right?”
“We are. But even bosses need breathers. Thomas and Jorge will be here any minute. They’ll need us to give them orders, to guide them. A boss that looks beat-up doesn’t instill confidence in the employees.” Which was true but sounded like a made-up excuse. Still, she gave him a tentative nod. She stopped long enough to have a drink of water and rest for a minute. Then she went back to her wall-washing.
When Thomas and Jorge showed up, Lucas introduced them. Thomas bowed slightly. “You are … muy bonita, Ms. Patchett,” he said.
Jorge elbowed Thomas in the stomach. “Thomas, Ms. Patchett is our boss. Show some respect. Forgive my brother, Ms. Patchett. This is his first job.”
To Lucas’s surprise, Genevieve laughed. “There’s nothing to forgive, Jorge. This is my—”
Uh-oh, the princess was going to tell Thomas and Jorge this was her first job, wasn’t she? That would be a mistake.
Lucas coughed and glowered at her.
Her eyes widened and she looked at him. A flush climbed from the neck of his shirt to her cheeks. She turned back to Jorge. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Jorge. And Thomas, thank you so much for the compliment. I’m wet and dirty and I appreciate your efforts to make me feel better about that. I look forward to working with both of you.” Wiping her palm on her pants, she held out her hand. The pink polish that had graced her nails this morning was chipped and her nails were ragged, but Thomas took her hand and bowed over it as if she were royalty. Jorge gave her a big smile and did the same.
Lucas had met the men before. He’d hired them, and Jorge had worked on a previous job. Now he said hello. and waited for his project manager to make the next move. When she said nothing, he glanced her way.
Genevieve stared him directly in the eyes, that pink glow growing rosier. Then she raised her chin and cleared her throat. “Lucas and I have been concentrating on cleaning the living room and entranceway. Thomas, why don’t you work on the kitchen, and Jorge, take the family room. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns.”
“I have a question. Will there be plaster work required? I have some experience in that area, but Thomas has none. If there’s a lot of it to handle, we might need help.”
A brief look of panic sprang into Genevieve’s eyes. Lucas inwardly cursed, then opened his mouth to bail her out. But she was shaking her head. “I’m not sure yet. Let me get back to you on that. For now, let’s just concentrate on getting rid of all the dirt.”
The two men nodded, then wandered off. When they had gone, Lucas turned to her. “Good save.”
She stared up at him with big eyes. “It was all I could think of. I don’t know anything about plaster work.”
“You know what a smooth wall looks like. Jorge knows enough to handle any problem areas. There are a few but not much. I’ll take you on a tour. We’ll discuss what basic repair needs to be done. I should have done that already.” Except a part of him had needed to see how “the debutante” handled the tough, dirty stuff. To his surprise, she was handling it. Not with any finesse, but with determination.
“Let’s go,” he said.
He led her through the rooms, pointing out problem areas, the general plan for cleanup, repair and renovation and the big picture. “When we’re done, each woman will need her own private space but there needs to be plenty of flow and room for interaction. This is a house, but it will also be a community, hopefully a family. The space needs to reflect that.”
