In the morning, she woke sinfully late, still nestled in Lucas’s arms for the first time in a long time, and she didn’t hesitate to test how heavily he slept. The exact opposite of backing off. Stupid was her middle name lately.
“Mmm. Darlin’, that is indeed a nice way to wake up,” he murmured, after she’d sated them both.
“Stay in bed tomorrow morning, and you might get a repeat.” She flipped on the TV and settled in to watch the weather while contemplating breakfast. “Can you eat or are you going to go drown yourself in listings right away?”
“I’m taking a little personal time this morning. I deserve it, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. Does that mean I’m breakfast?”
He laughed. “Yep. Then I want to take you somewhere.”
But he wouldn’t tell her where until after they’d eaten, showered and dressed, and he’d driven to a run-down building miles off the freeway in an older part of town full of senior centers and assisted-living facilities.
“This just came up for sale,” he told her as he helped her out of the car and led her to the edge of the parking lot. “It’s an old hotel.”
She glanced at him and back at the building. “I’m sorry. I’m not following why we’re here or what the implication of this is.”
“For the shelter,” Lucas said quietly. “It can be retrofitted, and I checked on the zoning. No problems.”
“The shelter.” It took another thirty seconds for his meaning to sink in. “You mean my shelter? I’m planning to have it built.”
“I know. This is another option. A less expensive option. Thirty-five percent down and I know a few people we can talk to about the financing.”
“Financing?” If he’d started speaking Swahili, she’d have been equally as challenged to keep up. “I’m not getting a loan. That’s the whole point of accessing my trust fund, so I can pay cash and the shelter will never be threatened with closure. We went over this. Without the trust money, I don’t have thirty-five percent, let alone enough to purchase.”
He clasped her hand with painstaking care. “I’ll give you the money for the down payment.”
The air grew heavy and ominous, tightening her chest. Their agreement specifically called for their assets to remain separate, and that might prove to be a touchier subject than sex. “You didn’t get a terminal cancer diagnosis or something, did you? What’s this all about?”
“You inspire me. Your commitment to victims of abuse is amazing. If I help you do this, you could start the shelter now instead of waiting until you get your money when the divorce is final. Save a few more women in the meantime.”
“Oh, Lucas.”
And that was it. Her heart did a pirouette and splattered somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach.
She rushed on, determined not to dwell on how many king’s horses and how many king’s men it would take to put everything back together again. “I appreciate what you’re saying—I really do. But I can’t get a loan, not for the kind of money we’re talking about. I told you, Courtney and I tried. Our business plan wasn’t viable, and venture capitalists want profits. Asking you to marry me was the absolute last resort, but it turned out for the best. If we have a loan, there’s always a possibility of foreclosure if donations dry up, and I can’t have that hanging over our heads.”
No bank would ever own her shelter. Nothing would have the power to rip it from her fingers. It was far, far better to do it all on her own and never depend on anyone else. Much less painful that way.
“Okay. So, no loan.” A strange light appeared in his eyes. “At least think about the possibility of this place. The owner is motivated to sell. Adding in the renovations, the purchase price is around a third of the cost to build. You could save millions.”
Yes, she could. The savings could be rolled forward into operating costs, and it would be years and years before she needed to worry about additional funds beyond the trust money. The idea had merit. She could run the shelter without donations, a huge plus in her mind.
Maybe Lucas could talk the owner into waiting to sell until the divorce came through and she had access to the trust.
She surveyed the site again. The hotel was tucked away in a heavily treed area, off the beaten path. Bad for a hotel and good for a shelter the victims didn’t want their abusers to find. “I do like the location. It’s important for women who’ve taken the step to leave their abusers to feel safe. An out-of-the-way place is ideal. Tell me more about your thoughts.”