"Ridiculous as it sounds, I felt as if heaven had opened and let me finally peak at what lay beyond its golden gates. I took the deal. Soon after, my father was arrested on burglary charges and later sentenced to fifteen years. He blamed me until the day he died, said I'd ratted him out."
"Did you?"
"No, but I'm sure it was my lawyer's doing, so I was essentially the cause. I didn't cry any tears over him, chère, and he died in prison a few years later."
Vanessa knew better than to say she was sorry. "What happened to your mother?"
"My lawyer tried to get her into rehab, but she wouldn't stay. Years later, I bribed her with a house if she'd get clean, which she did for about three months. It's a routine for us now. Every so often she calls me for money and I dangle the rehab as bait." He shook his head. "But back then she lost custody, and I was handed over to the gentle nuns of St. Francis, where I lived and finished high school.
"Once I applied myself, a strange thing happened … I succeeded. I got a scholarship to Tulane and moved to New Orleans."
"And you succeeded there, too."
He walked around the desk to lean against it, close enough that his leg brushed her knee. "Yes," he said, staring down at her with an odd mixture of need and self-deprecation. "I worked in a bar in the French Quarter. I found not just bravado, but confidence. I graduated, went to law school, passed the bar. Along the way, I learned another important thing about myself. I learned I could read people, then play people. I could get them to do what I wanted, to see my side of a case. I'd found my niche-which I used to advantage. Female jurists flirted with me. Male jurists considered me strong and sincere. I felt none of it. I had a Porsche, a seven-figure income and no conscience.
"I was there to win. I wanted the judgment. The glory. The respect. The check," he added as if to bring home the point.
She met his gaze, not judging him as he undoubtedly expected her to do. She might have grown up wealthy, but she had some idea of what it meant to be poor and hopeless. "So you became a success and earned a lot of money, but last night you said you were atoning. For what?"
"One of my first big judgments involved a woman who had cancer. Her insurance company fraudulently denied her health coverage, claiming a preexisting condition. I sued, on her behalf, for fifteen million dollars. It was an easy win. The insurance company bigwigs were idiots. Memos all over the place about systematically denying her coverage, so they didn't have to fork over the bucks for her treatments.
"My fee for her pain and suffering was nearly five million dollars." His voice deepened, quieted. "After the decision came down, I bought Cristal and got drunk. She resumed chemotherapy."
"You couldn't have cured her cancer, Lucas."
He went on as if he hadn't heard her. "Six months later, she died, leaving a devastated husband and young daughter. I didn't even go to the funeral. I sent flowers. I'd already moved on to the next case." He shook himself before continuing. "Then several months ago, her daughter wrote me. She … thanked me. Said her father had gone through severe depression after her mother's death, but the money had helped pay for his treatment, and he was even dating again. Though she'd always miss her mother, the settlement money had allowed her to attend college. She wants to be an attorney, and she wanted to let me know that I'd been her inspiration."
"That's wonderful," she said, though she could see where this was going. "You helped that family."
His gaze was hard and cold. "I used her, Vanessa. When the case was referred to me, I saw that the insurance company was a local outfit. I figured on their lack of sophistication and disorganization. But they had one very important thing going for them-for me-they were underwritten by a deep-pocketed, bigger company. One I could sue for megabucks. Without that one catalyst, I would have passed off that family without another thought."
Vanessa wanted to flinch. He was deliberately giving her the brutal truth. So she would understand him? So she would blame him?
She kept her face impassive.
"I never thought of that young girl. Not once. I had to look her name up in my records. Brittany Ann Curry. She was thirteen when her mother died. And do you know how many clients I've had just like that?" He bowed his head. "Too many to count.
"I had become my father, taking all I could," he said as he rolled his shoulders and met her gaze, his effort to escape the past and control his emotions obvious. "Somewhere along the line, the winning and the money and maybe my genes had taken over. I'd forgotten why I even became a lawyer in the first place-to help people who couldn't help themselves. So, I announced I was closing my practice and made plans to move here."
"Why here?"
"Brittany started law school at Emory this past spring. Since the day I got her letter I've been talking with her, offering study help and the perspective of a practicing attorney. I've learned she's smart and insightful, and so damn young and enthusiastic about defending truth and justice." He smiled sardonically. "I was never that optimistic or innocent, but I'm watching her and learning. She considers me her mentor. One day I hope to actually be worthy of the honor."
If he expected Vanessa to be appalled or to reject him, he was going to be disappointed. He'd gotten out of a dead-end life, and no matter what he thought, he had helped people.
Whatever happened between them from this day on, she'd always admire him. Who else had the strength and courage to examine his life with such brutal honesty? To make wholesale and painful changes to find a more meaningful purpose?
Though she'd never thought of herself as courageous, she'd made changes to follow her own dreams, to make a life that was her own, one she could be proud of. She'd never expected to meet someone she had something so deep and basic in common with.
Someday, she'd make sure to thank him for reminding her she'd done the right thing.
She realized now where the coldness inside him had sprung from. That didn't make it any less scary, but then so much about him was frightening for a woman intent on simply keeping her business afloat, repairing her relationship with her family and having a little fun along the way.
The way he made her feel scared her. How she felt when she wasn't with him. How much she already cared about him.
Praying her knees would hold her, she stood. "That's it?" She laid her hand lightly on his chest. "I thought you were in the Witness Protection program or something. What's for lunch?"
Still seeming distant, he just looked at her. "Aren't you worried I'm playing you?"
She wedged herself between his legs. "No."
"I'm not easy to get along with."
She slid her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. She reveled in the softness. "Neither am I."
"You don't care about the kind of man I am?"
"Of course I do." She traced her index finger along his lower lip. "You're smart. And interesting." She brought her face closer, so their lips were mere inches apart. "Flawed and strong. Gorgeous." She brushed her mouth over his. "Noble."
He tried to interrupt, so she kissed him again. "Brave. Fun. Charming."
"I don't need you to coddle me."
She smiled. "Yes, you do."
When she placed her mouth over his this time, she slid her tongue past his lips. She seduced him out of the past and into the present.
Part of her recognized she was falling back on their already familiar hunger and heat to block the feelings worming their way into her heart. If she only loved him with her body, she could prevent herself from caring too much. She treated her relationships casually out of a need for protection. She didn't have a great long-term record. Her rapport with family being exhibit number one.
Her reflections flew from her mind, though, as Lucas pulled her against him. He certainly knew how to read people, since he always found the spot on her that needed his touch the most. He knew whether to stroke softly or firmly, slowly or quickly.
Now, he savored her lips as if she were the finest champagne, as if knowing she wanted to offer him comfort and solace, a physical balm to heal the past. His arms encircled her. Her heart began the familiar pounding. Her stomach fluttered with desire.
She wanted his strength and intensity as much as she wanted to tap into his tenderness. His mouth was heaven. His body hard and strong, yearning to be explored. She craved the moment she could get him out of his respectable suit. Her fingers tingled with need. She wanted him inside her, under her, over her.