Just One Taste...(36)

At least somebody had.

"I've rediscovered old friends," she continued, "and I've even gone to  parties and nightclubs. Through it all, I've accepted that Gilbert's  affair wasn't my fault. I didn't fall short as a wife. It was a decision  he made."

How the hell he'd helped her realize all that, he had no idea, since he  mostly had no idea what she was talking about. Still, he nodded  knowingly. "I'm so glad."

"Your daughter is a treasure."

Vanessa. He should have known this turnabout was her doing. She had a  knack for making people happy. Had she learned that from him? He  frowned, not seeing how, especially since he'd done as much to make her  miserable as he had to make her feel good. At least until recently.

If he had to actually thank Broussard for his interference, he'd choke.

"I'd also like to apologize for my, um … behavior when I was here last."  Her face reddened. "I was flirting with you, Joseph. Shamelessly. After  Gilbert strayed, I didn't think I was desirable anymore. I hope it  didn't cause any problems between you and Elise."

"None at all," he lied. He could be magnanimous. Everything had worked  out rather well, after all. Millie would get her money. His wife had  been more adventurous on Wednesday nights. He'd gotten his daughter  back. Vanessa had increased her business. If only he could boot  Broussard out of the sunny picture.

Millie rose. "I won't keep you. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate what you've done."

Joseph stood and captured her hand between both of his. "It was my pleasure."

Pleased with himself and pleased his earlier guilt had faded, he  escorted her to the door. As he packed his briefcase, he caught himself  humming. When the phone rang, he considered ignoring it, but thought it  could be Elise.

"Joseph Douglas," he said into the receiver.

"Mr. Douglas, this is Candy Anderson. We need to talk."



VANESSA WALKED INTO THE BAR, squinting through the smoke for her father.  She spotted him sitting on a stool at the far end, slumped over a glass  of scotch.

When she'd called him on his cell a few minutes ago, she'd been  surprised enough to learn he was at a bar, not at the country club, at  home or at the office. But to see which bar he'd chosen, she became  downright alarmed. It was a serious drinking establishment. No fancy  lighting or artful decorations. No leather-covered booths. No low-toned  conversations between professionals dressed in tailored suits.

She only got bleary-eyed glances from the few patrons and a glare from the beefy bartender as she moved toward her father.

"Whadya want?" the bartender asked when she'd settled onto a stool.

Figuring a chardonnay would be a lousy bet, she ordered whiskey. She  refused to admit she did so because she already missed Lucas. She was  furious, not sad. And even if she got past her anger, the situation  between her and Lucas would still be impossible.

They'd gotten together for a one-night stand and managed to keep their  relationship going for a while longer, but they weren't a long-term  couple. Somehow, instead of building intimacy, she'd simply become one  of his atonement projects. If he fixed the disowned caterer's  estrangement from her family, he'd be a better man.

And no matter how she tried to remember his wonderful qualities, she  simply didn't trust him anymore. He'd said nothing the past two weeks as  she'd talked about her growing business. He'd said nothing when she'd  marveled at how well she and her father were getting along.                       
       
           



       

You're scared of loving me. You're afraid I'll reject you.

She was pushing him away all right, but she had plenty of better reasons than that one.

The depressing atmosphere definitely called for a little levity. "I hear  my boyfriend's been blackmailing you," she said to her father once the  bartender moved away.

Her father stared into his half-empty glass. "It hardly matters now."

"But he was."

He shrugged.

The bartender set her whiskey-with no ice-in front of her, and she  toasted him before she bravely gulped some down. Gasping, she pounded  her chest. "Smooth." He grunted and turned away. "You don't have to  worry about him anymore," she said to her father.

He finally looked at her. His eyes were bloodshot, his gaze unfocused. "Why not?"

"We broke up."

"Because of me?"

She shook her head. "We just decided things wouldn't work out."

"I'm sorry."

"So you don't have to be nice anymore."

"I don't need anyone to tell me to be nice to my own daughter," he said stiffly.

"But you did as he asked and steered business my way," she reminded him  quietly. "Why? What does he know that's so important to you?"

He glanced down, then back up as he cleared his throat. "I recommended  your business because you're excellent at what you do. And because you  deserved better from your mother and me than what you'd been getting."  He laid his hand over hers. "Maybe Broussard just reminded me of that."

Vanessa tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

"I never meant to hurt you, Vanessa. I was just stubborn. I wanted you  to be part of the foundation, part of the Douglas tradition. And I'm  embarrassed that I stood aside and let your mother's arguments with you  escalate because I was too damn busy to listen.

"I'm proud that you followed through on your dreams, even though I  didn't support you." He gave her a half smile. "You do get your  determination from me, you know."

"I figured," she said, dabbing at her eyes as a giant weight lifted off  her heart. The things she'd longed to hear for so long were actually  being spoken. The rejection she'd felt faded. She was loved and  accepted.

"I'm sorry for the past. I've spent the past few weeks trying to make it  up to you, though it galls me to admit it took that conniving ambulance  chaser to point it out."

"He's not an ambulance chaser, Daddy."

He snorted. "So he says."

So Lucas and her father weren't ever going to be buddy-buddy. But then  they weren't likely to run into each other too often now that Lucas was  out of her life.

"He'll probably be thrilled it's all going to come out now anyway," he said.

"What's going to come out?"

"A mess." He tossed back the rest of his drink. "See, there are these two wills … "

At the end of his amazing story, Vanessa asked, "So you're meeting the stripper-Candy-Friday?"

"At the house at noon. For obvious reasons, I didn't want her anywhere near the office."

"What do you think she wants?"

"Money, what else? Maybe my career, my reputation." He sighed. "Everything."

Vanessa slid her arm around him. "You won't lose me, Dad. Or Mother. Or Angelica."

He pulled her close. "Thank you," he said gruffly.

Her eyes and chest burned as they held each other. How long had it been since she'd truly hugged her father?

Flaws and mistakes were in the open, and still she and her family loved  each other, accepted each other. Her dream had come true. And, damn it,  Lucas Broussard had brought it about.

And just why had he done it? Was she a project? Was his goal to help or  to manipulate? And if the answer was the former, how could she have  doubted him? Why had she doubted him?

You're afraid I'll reject you.

She wouldn't sabotage herself that way. Would she?

"We'll work this out," she said to her father when she leaned back and  dabbed at her eyes. "Even if it's not strictly legal, you tried to do  the right thing."                       
       
           



       

"Not strictly legal? That isn't a comforting statement to an attorney, Vanessa."

"Okay, yeah. So let's think like an attorney." She ignored his  exasperated look. "Are you the attorney of record for the whole Switzer  family or just Gilbert?"

"All of them. I drew up the damn prenup that even allowed any of this to  happen. I also set up the trusts for the boys, and I prepared and filed  Millie's will. I've always provided advice whenever I'm called."

"So, in essence, the duty you were required to perform for  Gilbert-changing his will-would have adversely affected your other  client, Millie."

"Correct."

"So you chose to protect Millie's interests over Gilbert's."

"But I didn't tell him that."

"You tried. He just didn't listen."

"I'm sure the fact that I tried will go over well with the Georgia State  Bar Association when they decide whether or not to kick me out  permanently or just temporarily."

"They wouldn't do that over a little thing like a will."

"A little thing? We're talking about nearly thirty million dollars here."