Just One Taste...(32)

She flushed. "That was last night."

He eyed her from head to toe, imagining what she had on beneath the black pants and white chef's jacket she wore. "And tonight?"

"Nothing that exciting. Lucas, please be careful."

"No."

She started to lay her hands on his chest, then pulled back at the last  minute and glanced over her shoulder. "Franklin Alderson is here. Brett  is here. Plus nearly a dozen or so of his buddies. You're going to be  surrounded."

Well aware of his position and choosing not to worry her, Lucas craned his neck to look around. "Some place you've got here."

"It's not mine."

"But you have a bedroom here."

"Had."

He frowned. "Is there still a bed? I had plans for that room later."

"I think it's been redecorated as a guest room, but I'm not going up there."

Somehow, he didn't blame her. "Fine by me. We have a confirmed reservation somewhere else."

"Your place?"                       
       
           



       

"Come to me when you're finished, no matter what time, though I wish you'd let me help you."

"No." She shook her head, her lips drawn into a firm line. "I'm doing this on my own."

Respecting and understanding that, he used the distraction to scoot  around her. "Then I'll see you later." She reached for him again, but he  stepped back. "How about a drink, Miss Caterer? I could use a shot of  whiskey about now."

When she stuck out her tongue, he grinned, then turned to face the lions.

The room he entered was, as expected, large and lavishly decorated. Rich  fabrics of gold, navy and burgundy covered the furniture; antique  tables made of dark mahogany were scattered about; crystal gleamed  beneath the strategically placed lights; walls were painted an elegant  shade of the same navy in the sofa.

But it was the men standing throughout the room in small clusters that  drew his attention. Fashionably, they'd pulled out all the conservative  stops-perfectly cut navy and gray suits, red power ties, gleaming shoes.

He was glad he'd worn black. He was the villain, after all. No point in not playing to the part.

He watched heads turn as he crossed the room. Murmuring followed.  Shuffling ensued. With no outward reaction, ignoring them all, Lucas  rubbed his hands together.

Let the games begin.





11



LUCAS WALKED STRAIGHT to the bar on the far side of the room. "Jack  Daniel's, please, if you have it. On the rocks."The bartender, dressed  in a black tux, nodded his understanding but not before throwing Lucas a  quick grin. From the endless pictures he'd been shown on Wednesday  night, Lucas recognized him immediately as Peter's partner, Daniel.

Maybe not so alone after all.

Even though Vanessa wanted her parents' love and respect, she clearly  wasn't lying down on her rebellion against their methods. Her worry for  him, her defense of him, clearly demonstrated the side she'd taken.

Let them come to me, he thought as he sipped his drink. He could stand by the bar and talk to Daniel all night.

"How's your drink, sir?"

"Excellent. You been a bartender long?"

Daniel dipped his head and lowered his voice. "I'm pretty new, but I was trained in New Orleans, so I'm ready for everything."

"Really." Lucas raised his eyebrows and met Daniel's amused gaze. "My old stomping ground."

"So I hear."

"I don't believe we've met," a man said from behind him. When Lucas  turned, the guy stuck out his hand. "I'm Bobby Eckland. This party's in  honor of my promotion."

Lucas shook his hand. The guy looked either too excited or too  caffeinated by his big move up the corporate ladder. "Lucas Broussard."

Bobby paled. "Oh, wow. I've heard of you."

Douglas was obviously trying to lull him into comfort, if this was the  guy he'd sent over. "Foster versus the State of Louisiana or Curry  versus United Insurance?"

"Both."

"How nice. I have an affection for both."

"Didn't the Foster case involve that blind nurse who'd excelled to  administration, then the state tried to fire her a few years before her  pension kicked in?"

"It did." She'd never worked again, but then, she hadn't had to. It had  only occurred to Lucas years later to ask her if that mattered.

"That case was a great stride forward for the rights of the disabled."

Was this part of the lulling, or was this genuine curiosity? Regardless,  he and Bobby dug into a strategy discussion. He'd held others at bay  and himself in reserve so long he'd forgotten how interesting  professional debate could be. Surely, this wasn't the scenario Douglas  had envisioned.

Proof of that came in the form of the man himself.

"Bob, I see you've found our newest resident," Joseph Douglas said as he  approached, a fake smile on his face, a crystal tumbler in his hand.

"Y-yes, sir," Bobby said, the expression on his face giving away his  hero worship. "Lucas and I have been discussing some of his past  litigations."

"No kidding." Douglas's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you narrow down that massive field?"                       
       
           



       

"There are a few notable highlights," Lucas said, holding out his hand.  "I'm Lucas Broussard. I don't believe we've met, though I certainly know  who you are."

Douglas shook his hand. "I understand you've joined Geegan, Duluth and Patterson."

"We're a good fit."

"Crab puff?"

Lucas continued to hold Douglas's gaze even though he could feel Vanessa  quivering beside him. "Love one," he said, finally turning to her,  selecting an appetizer, then biting in.

The look on Vanessa's face could best be described as tense, apprehensive. But not scared, and for that alone he was cheered.

The caterer's father went rigid. "Just put the tray on the side table, Vanessa. We'll get to it later."

There was an odd, tense moment where the three of them-well, four, if you counted Bobby-stood in absolute silence.

Gesturing with his crab puff-which was probably rude in every circle but  the Cypress Bayou Trailer Park-Lucas addressed the others. "Would you  like one, Bobby? They're quite good."

Bobby checked Douglas's reaction before he took one from the tray  Vanessa still held aloft. Then they spent a moment of silence while they  tested the puffs. Was it a momentous culinary occasion? Were the crab  puffs that good? Or bad? Lucas didn't think so. He'd been to a million  lame cocktail parties over the years, and he'd tasted bad crab puffs.

No, he was pretty sure the problem was an onset case of Joseph  Douglas-itis. No one dared declare the party a success, the new guy cool  or the crab puffs acceptable without his approval.

Finally … finally, Douglas nodded. "Very nice, Vanessa."

"Oh, I agree, sir," Bobby said, grabbing another. "Lots of crab, not too  much breading. You don't get that quality very often. I mean-"

"Could you get me another scotch?" Douglas asked, just as Vanessa had begun to smile beneath Bobby's compliments.

Vanessa glanced at Daniel the bartender, who had no smile and no comment  as he made the drink. Saying nothing, she moved on with her tray, and  Lucas swore revenge.

"Mr. Douglas," he said, "could I bother you for a moment to discuss a private matter?"

"Of course." Confidence effused in his face as if he'd waited with bated  breath for just this moment. "Bobby, if you'll excuse us?"

"Yes, sir," Bobby said as he slinked off.

"Let's go out by the pool," Douglas said, suddenly magnanimous.

Lucas followed him out, buoyed by the low hand slap Daniel gave him before he strode out the door.

The lagoonlike pool area was lit with candles floating on fake lily  pads. If Lucas hadn't known the man, he would have thought the setting  was charming. As it was, he found it all smacked of contrived  sophistication.

"You and Bobby seemed to hit it off," Douglas said.

"I'm sure my impression of Bobby is not why you invited me."

The facade dropped, along with his genial-host expression. "I don't want you anywhere near my daughter."

Obviously Peter had been right, and Douglas's spy network was swift and accurate. "That's for Vanessa to decide."

"It's my job to protect her."

Amused, walking along the edge of the pool, Lucas turned. "Really? Then why haven't you?"

Douglas's face actually mottled. "I won't have her anywhere near you."

Lucas laughed. "That's it? That's the best you can come up with?"

"Don't mock me, boy. You don't want me as an enemy."

"I have no doubt. But that seems a moot point now."

"She's mine."

"She's her own. And, really, you didn't swirl up this party-and no doubt  Bobby's unexpected promotion windfall-to talk about Vanessa. What do  you want?"