Riches to Rags Bride (4 page)

“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.