Just One Taste...(37)

"Wow. No kidding? Jeez, I should have gone to medical school."

"Or married a doctor like your sis-"

"Don't start."

"I've been bossy my whole life. It's hard to give it up in just a few weeks."

To her surprise, he smiled. She returned the smile. Before long, they  were both laughing hysterically. "How did our lives get so screwed up in  so short a time?" she asked him.

"I have no idea."

"Hey, I'm gonna cut you two off if you don't stop all that," the bartender said, stomping over to scowl at them.

"That's an excellent idea," Vanessa said, standing and feeling only slightly woozy.

Her father tossed a twenty on the bar, then they walked out, arm in arm.  Since neither of them were in any shape to drive, they called a cab.

As he held open the door, her father glanced down at her. "I can't  believe I'm saying this, but it's possible he wanted to help you more  than he wanted to hurt me."

"Who?"

"Lucas Broussard."

Vanessa was beginning to think he might be right, but she needed to  figure out what that meant. To her future. To her heart. "You didn't  call him an ambulance chaser, Dad."

"Just don't tell anybody I'm going soft."

Vanessa grinned. "I wouldn't dream of it."



ON THURSDAY, two days after the enlightening trip to the bar with her  father, Vanessa was running on empty. She whipped up icing for the  cinnamon rolls without remembering whether she'd added sugar or salt to  the mix.

The peace with her family was better than she'd ever imagined. Last  night, she, her parents, her sister and her brother-in-law had shared  dinner together. Even though Vanessa could sense her father's slight  distraction because of the looming confrontation with Candy Anderson,  she doubted anyone else had. They'd had a wonderful time.

After the uplifting interlude, though, she'd returned to brooding about  Lucas. She couldn't sleep at night. She couldn't concentrate during the  day.

Every time she thought about his manipulation of her, anger jolted  through her again. Okay, so maybe he'd expedited her reunion     with her  family. And maybe he'd done so for unselfish reasons.

But his methods sucked.

So, she worked up her anger as she worked dough in her hands. But when  it came time to add cinnamon, icing or-God forbid-chocolate, she  remembered how she melted at his smile, how she flickered to life  beneath his touch. She remembered the way he'd pampered her, held her,  supported her.

Loved her?

Was she throwing away the love of a lifetime because she was-okay maybe she should finally admit it-scared of being rejected?

She'd let her family treat her like crap for years because she didn't  want to lose their love. She knew now that her parents had felt just as  hurt and betrayed by her leaving home as she'd felt by their lack of  support of the nondebutante woman she wanted to be.                       
       
           



       

And her love life hadn't been so much a victim of her business as it had  of her fears. Part of her was sure no man would ever understand her or  love her completely. She'd always felt love came with conditions. She  had to be this way or that way for people to accept her.

Friends like Mia and Peter had taught her otherwise.

But love doesn't come with guarantees. Lucas might break her heart one  day. Was she so afraid of that possibility that she refused even to try?

No doubt that question would keep her up tonight.

Before she could slip from brooding to depressed, though, she heard the  back door open, followed by Mia's familiar laughter. She heard the  rumble of a male voice, too. Colin? Frank? Mark? She never knew who  would come through the door with her partner these days.

She looked up as the workroom door swung open. Colin beamed back at her. Personally, she was rooting for the quiet accountant.

"You look terrible," her roommate announced.

"Gee, Mia, don't gloss it up or anything."

Scowling, Mia walked toward her. "Speaking of gloss, you could use a  little on your lips. And your eyes. And those bags under your eyes-"

"So, Colin," Vanessa interrupted with fake brightness, "how are things in the exciting world of accounting?"

"Balanced."

"Balanced?"

"It's an accounting joke. You know, like balancing the books."

She liked the man, but he really needed to come up with some new jokes.

Mia glanced over her shoulder at him. "Would you watch the counter out front for a bit, sweetie? I need to talk to Vanessa."

"Sure." But he gave Mia a lingering kiss before going.

"That poor man is gaga over you."

"Why does that make him poor?"

"Because you're playing with him."

"I am not." Her eyes dancing, Mia pressed her lips together as if  considering revealing a juicy secret. "He convinced me exclusivity isn't  such a bad thing."

"He did, huh? And marriage?"

"Let's not go crazy." She giggled. "But who knows."

"Well, I'll be damned."

"I'm a Renaissance woman. I can grow and change."

"Of course you can." And maybe you won't be the only one. "I think it's  terrific. I was rooting for Colin. Even if he does tell lousy jokes."

"He has plenty of other talents, believe me. So, how are things between you and Lucas?"

"There is no me and Lucas, remember?" She'd told Mia everything that had  happened, except for the secret Lucas had held over her father.  Hopefully, if her father could find a way to talk some sense into Candy  Anderson, no one but a select few would ever know.

"Still mad?"

"Yes."

Mia sighed. "I was hoping it would wear off."

"Wear off? The man lied to me, he manipulated me and my father-"

"He knocked some sense into your father, and it was about damn time  somebody did." She rolled her eyes upward. "Oh, to be a fly on the wall  when Lucas zinged him with what he knew and what he wanted in return."

"He'd probably love a partner for his future blackmail schemes. Why don't you give him a call?"

"If you don't, believe me, I'm going to. He loves you, and you love him, too."

"I'm really getting tired of everyone telling me how I feel."

"You are your father's daughter. Stubborn to the core."

"And don't you forget it."

Sighing, Mia braced her hands on the island and leaned toward her.  "Vanessa, what would your father have done to keep this secret quiet?"

It took her a moment to adjust to the change of subject. "Just about anything, I guess."

"He would have introduced Lucas to the Atlanta movers and shakers, the people who've so far shunned him because of his past?"

"Yes."

"He would have gotten him into that silly men's group at the country club?"

"Yes."

"He would have made him a partner in his firm?"

"Probably."

"Yet all Lucas asked him to do was give you business and treat you better."                       
       
           



       

"But-"

"He asked for something for you. Not himself. Not his business. Or the  firm he works for." Her eyes somber and determined, she angled her head.  "And think about the risk he took in reuniting you with your father,  who doesn't like Lucas at all. He risked having you rejoin your family  and reject him. He gave you what you wanted most in the world, even  though it might mean losing you. If that isn't love, I don't know what  is."

"I don't think I like the fact that you've looked at this from an  entirely different perspective and made me look petty and difficult at  the same time."

Mia smiled weakly. "What are friends for?"

Vanessa leaned heavily against the counter. She remembered Lucas  kneeling at her feet and helping her take off her shoes the night of the  bachelorette party. Had she fallen in love at that moment? Or had it  been the day in his office, when he'd shared his colorful past? Or maybe  the first moment she'd seen him, as tempting and gorgeous as chocolate  and strawberries.

"I've hurt him badly," she said as the ache in her heart spread.

"No doubt."

"I told him I didn't trust him, and I didn't want to see him anymore."

Mia winced. "Not good."

"He told me he loved me, and I said, You what?-like he'd lost his mind or something."

"Oh, brother. Maybe I should write down a few things for you." Mia  headed to the utility drawer, presumably for a pen and piece of paper.  "We need something poignant. A poem maybe."

"I don't think Lucas-or I-are the roses are red type."

Mia tapped a pen against her lips. "No, I suppose not. Maybe an on-your-knees confessional would be more appropriate."

Vanessa winced. "Do I have to actually get on my knees?"