Just One Taste...(21)

She smiled. "Yeah?"

He patted the cushion next to him. "You're pretty far away down there."

"Wild things happen when we touch."

"I promise to restrain myself."

She grumbled, "It's not you I'm worried about." But she slid down the  sofa, facing him, and draped herself across his lap. "Better?"

He stroked her hair off her face. "Much."

"Once, I brought a motorcycle-riding hooligan to one of my parents' Sunday dinners."

He raised his eyebrows. "Hooligan, huh?"

"Well, my mother called him that, not me."

"Is this a contest? To see who has the badder past?"

"No, you win hands down there. Just so you know my own past wasn't as idyllic as it might seem."

He was curious about how she'd become the black sheep, and how-given her  father's reputation-he'd managed to raise such an interesting woman.  "Go on."

"And what are we doing about lunch? We are having lunch, aren't we?"

He loved that she always thought with her stomach. "I ordered pad thai. It should be here any moment."                       
       
           



       

"Yum." She sipped her wine. "Now where was I?"

"Motorcycle-riding hooligan."

"Right." Lustily, she sighed. "Justin."

Jealousy stabbed him. He hoped wherever Justin was today it was near Outer Mongolia.

"Justin wasn't really a hooligan-whatever that is. He was just  different. His dad was a big-time music producer, so he wasn't around  much, and Justin had definitely seen Rebel Without a Cause one too many  times, but I liked him."

"Joseph and Elise thought differently, I take it."

"Joseph and Elise live on an entirely different planet."

They were interrupted by the arrival of the food, but Vanessa continued  her story as they shared the spicy noodle dish loaded with shrimp at the  coffee table.

"Anyway, Mother was always nagging me about inviting a nice boy to  dinner. 'How about that Middleton boy?'" she said in a high, formal tone  that no doubt mimicked her mother's. "'Or Arthur Richardson's boy?'  Naturally, Quint Middleton's father was a circuit court judge and  Richardson was dean of the business school at Georgia Tech."

She wrinkled her nose to communicate what she thought about that. "Boring and pompous. I liked Justin, so I invited him."

"You had to know that wasn't going to go over well."

"Yeah, I guess. I was young and reckless. And I figured I'd just get  grounded or something. I had no idea Justin would be the one punished."

"By your parents?"

"By everybody. They were horrible to him. They made demeaning comments  about his hair, his leather jacket, his earring. They giggled behind his  back, then to his face."

Lucas had experienced that kind of painful shunning himself. Both as a  poor teenager and as a grown man-the dignified New Orleans set had only  been slightly more accepting than the Atlanta country clubbers. Though  the Crescent City crowd had eventually softened. Most of them respected a  true scoundrel, after all.

"Needless to say, you won't be meeting my parents anytime soon. I won't put you through that."

"I'm not a sixteen-year-old boy, Vanessa. I can handle your parents."

"I guess. Just don't be offended when I don't invite you to dinner tomorrow."

"You still go?"

"Sometimes. But I don't bring dates."

"I'll endeavor to hide my disappointment."

"I am surprised you haven't asked me about them yet."

"What about them?"

"How Joseph Douglas's daughter wound up as a caterer in a barely respectable neighborhood with an empty bank account."

He'd figured there'd been a falling out, and he didn't expect she was  catering as a charity project. But his curiosity about her was also  connected to his thirst for information about her father and his "two  wills" moral dilemma.

How could Lucas separate his needs, keep what he considered a legal  secret and still learn all he wanted about Vanessa? He'd just have to  find a way. He wanted to know what had happened along the way that had  kept her from turning into those women he'd met Thursday night.

"Tell me," he said.

"I never really made much of a debutante. I'm not quiet, demure or  traditional. I don't like lacy dresses, flat shoes or having my hair cut  in a bob. I liked the sycamore tree in proximity to my bedroom so I  could sneak out, the Mercedes my father gave me for high-school  graduation and the unconventional friends I'd made.

"During my junior year in college, I was living at home and going to  Emory. In my infinite wisdom, I decided to wear a white shirt to a  ladies' luncheon my mother and I had been invited to. I also decided to  wear a red bra underneath the shirt."

Lucas swallowed a mouthful of noodles. "You should have worn it to the  men's luncheon. You'd have made a better impression there."

Her eyes twinkled. "If I'd only had you for inspiration. Well, you can  imagine how my mother felt about my lingerie selection. When we got  home, of course, we got into a huge argument. I was embarrassing my  family, I wasn't living up to my obligations as a Douglas, I respected  nobody's wishes but my own, et cetera.                       
       
           



       

"I listened, I apologized, and, when she left my room, I packed. I left  that same night and moved in with a friend from school. Of course, I  wasn't a complete martyr." She winked at him. "I did take the Mercedes. I  got a job as a waitress when my parents, predictably, cut off all  financial support. We rarely spoke over the next several months, and at  the end of the school year, I went to my career counselor and told her I  needed a new direction. She advised me to leave school."

"That must have been some counseling session."

"Temporarily, of course, though I never did go back to Emory. She told  me to take a year off and work and think about what I wanted to do, what  I really enjoyed doing. I figured out pretty quickly that I enjoyed  working at the restaurant-the craziness, the ever-changing customers and  menus. I eventually became a sous chef, then I got into the CIA-that's  Culinary Institute of America. After I graduated, Mia and I decided to  open Dessert First, and one day I realized I was actually happy."

"So you repaired your relationship with your family."

Shadows darted through her eyes. "Not exactly. My sister and I do okay,  but my parents don't approve of my catering, or of me. Until Thursday  night, I'd never gotten business from Mother. In fact, she's gone out of  her way to steer people away."

Lucas fought to keep his voice even as anger rolled through him. "So why were you at the fund-raiser?"

"Mother's caterer canceled on her a few days before the event. She called me in desperation."

"You bailed her out even though she'd tried to sabotage you in the past?"

She looked startled. "She didn't sabotage me. She just didn't help."

"Hoping you'd fail."

"And come crawling back, I'm sure." She shook her head. "Like that's going to happen."

Lucas rose and poured more wine. As he sipped, though, he knew he was  too furious to appreciate the delicate flavor, so he set the glass  aside. "I'll hire you. And recommend you. Hell, I'll stand on the street  corner and pass out your business cards if you need me to."

She glanced up at him. "That's really sweet, but I'm fine. Some months it's a struggle, but-"

"Don't you think it's odd that I've known you two days, and I'm willing  to do whatever's necessary to help you succeed, and your own mother does  nothing?"

Vanessa jumped to her feet. "Look, Lucas, I know it sounds awful, but  it's not. I'm doing this on my own. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"On your own is entirely different from steering people away. I would  have told her to screw off if she called me for help at the last  minute."

Her eyes turned glacial. "She's my mother."

"Exactly. What kind of mother-" He stopped, turning away as he caught  the stricken look on her face. Sometime in the last few seconds he'd  gone from being angry at her mother to being angry at his own. "I'm  sorry," he said quietly. "I have no place criticizing your family."  Especially since I have no idea how a good one is supposed to behave  anyway.

She wrapped her hand around his arm. "It's okay. It's sweet of you to  want to defend me." She urged him to face her. "I have a weird  relationship with my family, but I hope it won't always be that way. My  mother's call felt like an olive branch, not a family obligation."

"Your family should appreciate you more. They should support you."