Just One Taste...(38)

"Stuff your pride, girl. We're talking about your one and only true love here."

"I guess we are." Though she'd probably get kicked out of NOW.

"Ooh, wait." Mia's eyes lit with excitement. "I've got it."

"Does it get me off my knees?"

"You need a gesture of trust. Maybe you could stand with your back to  him and fall backward like we used to do at slumber parties."

"Mia, I don't think that-"

Then again …

A gesture of trust. Suddenly, she realized what she needed to do.

Crossing to the phone on the wall, she dialed the familiar number.  "Kelly," she said to Lucas's secretary when she answered, "this is  Vanessa Douglas. Can you add something to his calendar for tomorrow at  lunch?"



NEARLY EMPTY WHISKEY GLASS in hand, Lucas leaned against the balcony  wall and stared at the night sky. The drink did nothing to dull the  pain. He doubted anything would.

He would see her tomorrow.

Did her call for his help represent hope or doom? Since she'd left an  impersonal message with his secretary, he leaned toward the latter.

Yet she'd still called him, not one of the dozens of other attorneys her  father would no doubt prefer. Was that because he was already in the  middle of this will mess?

She'd told him she didn't trust him. Had she changed her mind?

Could he see her and not beg?

He hadn't slept and couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He'd  fallen apart after she'd left. So many years after escaping poverty,  pain and neglect, seeing her turn away had turned him back into that  child. His love for her left him vulnerable. Something he promised  himself he'd never be again.

He wanted desperately to be angry with her. Instead, he directed his fury inward.

But as he hurled his glass against the balcony floor, he felt some  measure of satisfaction seeing the glittering shards littered around his  feet.





13



VANESSA PULLED UP to her parents' house at 11:45 the next morning. She  was cutting it close, but she didn't want to give her dad too much time  to argue about her showing up.No husband-stealing stripper was going to  ruin her father's career.

Not to mention take the inheritance that was rightfully Millie's. She  and Gilbert had been married more than twenty-five years. No court would  award "the other woman" the entire sum of the will. They could  challenge the second will, and no doubt win. The problem was that  another will suddenly showing up would look major-league suspicious for  her father. Besides, nobody wanted this business made public in court.                       
       
           



       

So, her plan was still the best.

"Vanessa, what are you doing here?" her father said, appearing at the front door before she'd even climbed the porch steps.

She kissed his cheek, then, balancing her trays, scooted around him. "Hi, Dad. I brought lunch."

"Lunch?" he asked incredulously.

"You've heard the expression you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, haven't you?"

"What does that have to do with-"

"You placate more women with chicken-salad croissants than intimidating lawyer talk."

"I'm not serving that woman lunch."

"Of course not. I am." She smiled serenely at his thunderous expression,  then sailed into the kitchen. "Did Alice make any tea today?"

"How should I know?" her father answered.

She checked the fridge and found a full crystal pitcher of Alice's famous sweet tea. "Where is Alice today?"

"I sent her to the spa for the afternoon."

Vanessa smiled at the mental picture of stern, serious Alice with a  green mud pack on her face and cotton between her toes. "And Mother?"

"She had a garden-club meeting."

"Good. We'll have plenty of privacy for our little meeting."

"It's my meeting."

"This woman could affect the entire family, Dad. You should have  support. In a close-knit family, each member is there for the other when  there's a crisis."

"But I'm in charge, and I don't want-"

She merely raised her eyebrows.

"Thank you for your support," he said, teeth clenched.

"That's better." Smiling, she arranged the croissants on an artful bed  of green and red leaf lettuce, then added a scoop of potato salad and a  small cup of grapes to the plate. "What do you think?"

"It's-" He stopped, and she watched him physically struggle with his reaction. "It's lovely."

She wondered when he'd notice there were three plates. She needed to  encourage peace now, since he was really going to be annoyed when he  found out who else she'd invited. And where was that man, anyway?

"Where does Mother keep the vases?" she asked after she'd searched several cabinets in vain.

"I have no idea."

"You've lived here all your life, Dad."

"You lived here for twenty years, and you don't know where they are," he pointed out. "And what do you need a vase for?"

"The flowers."

"Flowers? Vanessa, you absolutely cannot-"

The doorbell interrupted his tirade before it caught significant momentum.

"That's probably her."

"Probably." Though she didn't think so. If she were Candy, she'd arrive ten minutes late just to watch the boys squirm.

Not that she was on Candy's side, but since yesterday she and Mia had  turned into something of a detective team, and she'd learned a few  things she hoped would give them an advantage in this confrontation.

The chicken salad was just part of the first strike.

"What the hell are you doing here?" her father bellowed from the front door.

And the cavalry had just arrived.

She rushed to the foyer before the general imploded. "I invited him,"  she said quietly, staring past her father to the man she'd laughed,  argued and made love with. The man she trusted. And loved.

"Hi, Lucas," she said as their gazes locked.

"I hate to miss a good party," he said, his tone light even though his green eyes were serious, hopeful.

It's going to be all right.

Through all her brooding and planning and worrying over the past three  days, part of her had still, somehow, doubted. She'd left him. She'd  broken up with him. Why would he help her-and her father-now?

Because he loved her.

Warmth and elation spread through her. Though he hadn't said the words,  she felt them through the tender look in his eyes, the one she'd  underestimated as simple attraction. The happiness she should have found  the first time he'd told her infused her now, reminding her love not  only existed in unlikely, even forbidden places, but flourished there.                       
       
           



       

With her hip, she bumped her stunned father aside and held the door wide. "Come in."

Wearing one of his impeccably tailored charcoal suits, his wavy, black  hair framing his handsome face, he walked straight to her. He brushed  his lips across her cheek. "You look beautiful, chère."

She grinned. "You're not so bad yourself, counselor." She reached for  his hand, shocked to feel a brief tremor. She'd wanted to make a grand  gesture, something unexpected and sweet that would prove to Lucas she'd  changed and that he'd been an important part of that change. But now she  wished she'd talked to him first, given him more reassurance. Trying to  let her love shine through her eyes, she gave his hand a supportive  squeeze. "Thanks for coming."

"I'm always here for you."

She pressed her lips gently against his. "I think I finally get that."

"I thought you two broke up," her father said with a fierce scowl.

Ignoring him, Vanessa let Lucas's warmth, strength and love infuse her  before she turned and led him into the living room. "Why don't we all  get comfortable? I expect Candy will be here any moment."

Still holding hands, she and Lucas sat on the sofa. Her father plopped  into his favorite chair. "She should be here already. And what's he  doing here?"

"He's going to be your lawyer."

The stunned look on her father's face was worth every lousy moment she'd been through in her life. "You must be joking."

"Not at all."

"I won't accept-"

"In this case, Dad, you are the defendant. If this woman decides to take  her case to court, you're going to be in the line of fire. I think it's  wise to have your own counsel present for the meeting."

"I can handle this myself."

"Maybe so, but I'd rather you had some help."

"I certainly don't need his help."

"He's done pretty good so far. He got our family back together, didn't  he? For that, I'll always be grateful." The last of her words she said  with a direct look at Lucas. Later, hopefully, she'd be able to tell him  how grateful.