Just One Taste...(18)

AFTER SOME PREP for that evening's catering job, Vanessa dressed  carefully for her lunch with Lucas. She slid into a black silk camisole  and fitted black pants, paired with a white blazer. For luck, she wore  her lacy red bra and matching panties underneath. For confidence, she  wore sky-high black stiletto sandals.

At eleven-thirty on Saturday morning.

"Is this how hookers prepare for the day?" she asked her reflection-which didn't look half-bad-then rolled her eyes at herself.

She was still vaguely annoyed-and aroused-by Lucas's abrupt departure  the night before, but after some solid hours of sleep, she had to admit  she had a clearer mind and a new perspective on their relationship.

Namely, to find out just what their relationship was.

Were they dating? Were they casually screwing each other? Were they confidants? Friends? A combination of everything?

Since meeting him, she'd run the gamut of emotions. Were these complex  feelings cosmic payback for the relatively uncomplicated relationships  she'd enjoyed over the past couple of years?

Last night had brought some comfort, at least. Lucas definitely wasn't  using her to get back at her father, or to get to know her father. She  had to unpack that baggage.

Especially since Lucas seemed to have plenty of stuffed suitcases of his own.

No matter how she looked at it, she still felt as though they were on  opposite sides of a very high fence. Being a practical girl, she was  pretty sure a couple dozen sweaty encounters between the sheets would  fix that-at least temporarily. Hence, the outfit.

After that, however, she had no idea where to go. Did she need to know?  If she was going to risk the possibility of peace and renewal with her  relatives, it seemed as though she should.

Still, a girl's gotta do …

"That's woman," she said as she dabbed spicy Asian perfume between her breasts.

As she headed toward the door, her phone rang. One glance at caller ID and she winced. Her father.

She considered ignoring it but knew he'd just call her cell, which she  always kept with her. A woman who planned, cooked and served at  important social events for other people didn't have the luxury of being  incommunicado.

She snatched the cordless receiver off the charger. "Hi, Dad."

"I hope you don't answer your business line like that."

"Of course not. I say Have Dessert First."                       
       
           



       

Silence. Then he said, "I'm not sure that's appropriate either."

"Did you need something? I'm on my way out."

"Where?"

As if she were still sixteen. "An appointment. Is everything okay?"

He cleared his throat.

Hesitancy from her father? Clearly, everything was not okay.

"I'd like to ask a favor," he said.

Knees weak, Vanessa sank to the edge of her bed. Ridiculously, she  wondered if her mother knew. Or had Mother put him up to this request?  What was going on with them? Her mother asking Vanessa to bail her out  using the cooking skills she didn't even like to acknowledge her  daughter possessed, and her father asking for a favor? Her father didn't  even like to ask someone to pass the peas at the dinner table.  Self-reliance-and even sometimes self-centeredness-was his motto.

As a result, he wasn't overly demonstrative. And while she and her  father had always gotten along better than she had with her mother, they  weren't really close. Maybe because she'd always wished he'd been a  buffer of comfort and acceptance between her and the imposing, demanding  Elise Douglas, but he'd never come through.

"Okay," she said finally, glad her voice didn't shake.

"As you may have heard, Millicent Switzer lost her husband recently. And  she's been a bit lonely. You know a variety of people, so I thought you  might … know someone who could maybe … "

"You want me to be a pimp for your old girlfriend?" she asked, incredulous.

Surprisingly, pimp was not the word he jumped on. Vanessa didn't know whether she was more worried by that or not.

"She's not my old girlfriend," her father said, his voice rising with censure.

"Come on, Grandma told me all about you two."

Silence again. "We dated for a brief period many years ago. The  important thing here is that she needs companionship. She's been through  a trying time the last few weeks, and I'd like to do what I can for  her."

As much as she'd like to give her father a hard time, she felt sorry for  him. Maybe he didn't know the meaning of the word pimp. Maybe he  finally realized the arm's length where he held everybody was a little  too far away.

Also, she did know who Millie Switzer was. Millie's husband was a dog,  who'd publicly humiliated her and her sons with his not-so-private  affair with a stripper.

"And she needs a date," she said.

"Just a distraction," her father said quickly, as if sensing he'd won.

Thinking of the bachelorette party, which was for a client/friend, she  decided that would certainly be a distraction. Maybe not a  Daddy-approved distraction, but, hey, a man who didn't know the actual  duties of a pimp had to take what he could get. "I'm sure I can come up  with something. Do you have her numbers?"

Her father gave her all the contact info, and she signed off without  asking how everything was with him. Until she could work out what she  was going to do with-and to-Lucas, she wanted to keep a low profile with  her parents. Running from a fight wasn't her usual mode of operation,  but when a woman was vulnerable and horny, she tended to not to have the  best judgment.

By the time she reached Lucas's high-rise office building, nerves had  taken over. She searched for bold and came up empty. She gathered her  confidence and found only wobbly ankles in overly high shoes.

Still, she moved through the lobby and gave her name to the receptionist, who waved her toward the elevator.

When Vanessa walked into his office, she noted a sleek, glass-topped  desk on one side and a formal furniture grouping and full bar on the  other. He was standing at a huge window that looked out over the city,  just as she'd imagined him doing in his apartment. As always, something  solitary surrounded him, held him apart.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, then smiled briefly. "Have a seat."

Really apprehensive now, she slid into one of the black leather chairs  in front of his desk. The office was modern and glossy. Cold, almost.  The gray, black and white decor communicated impersonal strength. Was  this really him, or the image he wanted to portray?                       
       
           



       

He finally turned and approached his desk. "You look beautiful," he said as he stopped next to his chair.

But he hadn't touched her. Didn't he want to?

"Thank you."

"You slept well?"

"Yes." He, on the other hand, looked as though he hadn't. The fatigue in  his eyes only added to his masculine appeal, but she wondered if all  his time with her had cut into some project he was working on, if he'd  worked long into the night to catch up. "Lucas, are you sure you're-"

"I was raised in a trailer park in Lafayette, Louisiana."

She swallowed as their eyes met. She'd asked for this. As much as the  practical side of her knew she had to hear it all, the head-over-heels  side of her wanted to stop him. She stood. "Lucas, don't."

"We can't go forward without you knowing the whole story."

"I guess not." She returned to her seat, but the knot in her stomach grew.

"My only request is that you not repeat what I'm telling you to anyone  but Mia. My … reputation, such as it is, is something I've cultivated  carefully. It's important that it remain intact."

Did he mean some of the rumors were true? Or were they false, and he'd deliberately not corrected them? "Agreed."

"So." He smiled without humor. "We go back to the trailer park in Lafayette … .

"My parents weren't exactly pillars of the community. My father was a  thief, and not a good one, given our living conditions. My mother was  hooked on pills and alcohol."

Vanessa sat very still, trying not to let her pity show. And she'd  complained-frequently-about the opulent surroundings where she'd been  raised.

"Neither of them had much time for an energetic, then troublemaking kid.  By the time I was sixteen, I'd gotten into some trouble, did a couple  stints in juvie and figured out the old man had one thing right-take all  you can, and do it before somebody else does. I started my big-time  career as a criminal by stealing a car."

She couldn't suppress a wince this time.

"Ah, but that turned out to be the best move I'd ever made, since I got arrested."

He began to pace. "The judge and jury realized juvie wasn't doing me any  good, so I was indicted and ordered to stand trial as an adult. The  court appointed me a lawyer. An older guy who'd seen way too many punks  like me. He was just ready to retire." Lucas stopped to look out the  window. "But he saved me. I'm not sure why and to this day he isn't  either. He told me if I stayed out of trouble and graduated, he'd find a  way to get me into college.