More Than a Convenient Bride(2)

"Talk about what?" she asked, dreading the inevitable conversation. But  Luc could always tell when she was upset. She could swear that  sometimes he knew her better than she knew herself.                       
       
           



       

"Whatever is bothering you." He parked outside her condo and turned to her. "Did I do something to upset you?"

"No, of course not." She'd hoped to put this off a little while longer,  so as not to dampen his special day, but there was so much concern in  the depths of his eyes, it seemed only fair to tell him now.

"So, what is it?"

As her brain worked to find the appropriate words, tears burned the  backs of her eyes. Maybe the parking lot wasn't the best place to do  this.

"Can you come inside for a few minutes? We need to talk."

His brow furrowed, he killed the engine. "Of course. Is everything okay?"

No, not at all. "Let's talk inside."

Gentleman that he was, Luc took her keys as they reached her door and  unlocked it for her. He didn't even do it consciously. It was just his  way. His mother, born and bred in Georgia, was old-fashioned when it  came to matters of social grace. He claimed that from the day he was  born, she'd drilled him with proper Southern manners.

Whatever she'd done, it had worked. He was one of the most courteous  men Julie had ever known. In all the time they had been friends and  worked together, he'd never said a harsh word, or once raised his voice  to her. Or to anyone else, for that matter. He had such a commanding  presence, he never had to. People took one look at those piercing hazel  eyes and that GQ-worthy physique, heard the deep baritone voice, and  spontaneously bent to his will. Women especially.

As they stepped inside the apartment, afternoon sunshine and fresh  spring air poured in through the partially open window in the living  room. Luc shrugged out of his suit jacket and dropped like a lead weight  onto the sofa, looking far too masculine for the floral printed chintz.  The furniture, which was too formal and froofy for her taste, and not  all that comfortable, either, came with the apartment. Expecting good  news when she'd filed to renew her visa, she'd been tentatively  window-shopping in her spare time for furniture more suited to her. She  wouldn't be needing it now. Not here, anyway.

She wasn't even sure where she would live. Other than a few distant  aunts and uncles, she had no family left in her hometown. And when her  father had passed away, his wife, whom Julie never had the pleasure of  meeting, sold off the entire estate before the body was cold.

Julie had so much to plan, and so little time to do it.

She set her purse on the coffee table and sat beside Luc, fisting her  hands in her lap. There was nothing she hated more than giving good  people bad news.

Luc unknotted his tie, tugged it off and tossed it over the sofa arm on  top of his jacket. Relaxing back against the cushions he undid the top  two buttons of his dress shirt. "Okay, let's hear it."

She took a deep breath, working up the nerve to tell him. "I heard back from immigration yesterday."

One brow rose in anticipation. "And?"

Just say it, Jules. "My application to renew my visa again was denied."

In a blur of navy blue Italian silk and white Egyptian cotton, Luc was on his feet. "Denied? You can't be serious."

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Now was not the time for a messy  emotional display. She'd learned years ago that crying only made things  worse. "According to your government I've overstayed my welcome. I have  two weeks to pack up my things and get out of the US."

"How is that possible? You're on a humanitarian mission."

"Technically I'm on a work visa."

"I still don't see the problem. You're still my research assistant. Gainfully employed. What changed?"

"Remember how I told you that in college I attended several protests."

"I remember."

"Well, what I didn't tell you is that I was arrested a few times."

"Were you convicted?"

"No, but I was afraid that if I put it down on my application I would be denied."

"So you left it out?"

She bit her lip and nodded, feeling juvenile and ashamed for having  lied in the first place. But she would have done almost anything to come  to the US and help her best friend. Now that one serious lapse in  judgment was coming back to bite her in the rear. "I screwed up. I  thought that because the charges were dropped, and it was a peaceful  political protest, it wouldn't matter anyway. I was wrong."

"There has to be something we can do," he said, pacing the oriental  rug, brow deeply furrowed. "Maybe I could talk to someone. Pull some  strings."                       
       
           



       

"The decision is final."

His chin tilted upward. "I can't accept that."

She rose from the sofa, touching his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "You don't have a choice. It's done."

He muttered a curse, one he wouldn't normally use in the presence of a  female, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She rested  her head against his chest, breathed in the scent of his aftershave. It  wasn't often that they embraced this way, and she found herself dreading  the moment he let go.

The stubble on his chin brushed her forehead as he spoke. "There has to be something we can do."

There was one thing, but it was too much to ask. Even of him.  Especially of him. "At this point all I can do is accept it. And move  on."

He held her at arm's length, and she could see the wheels in his head  spinning. But this was one situation all his money and influence  couldn't fix. "Where will you go?"

"South Africa for a while, until I can find another research assistant position. Maybe in Europe, or even Asia."

"I'll do whatever I can to help. I'll write such a glowing recommendation people will be clamoring to hire you."

The problem was, she didn't want to work for anyone else. She used to  love moving from place to place, meeting new people and learning new  cultures and customs. Now the only place she could imagine living was  right here in Royal. It was the first place in her travels that had  genuinely felt like home. The first place in her life really.

There had to be something she could do.





 Two

Luc sat at the bar at the Cattleman's Club swirling a double Scotch,  watching the amber liquid tornado along the sides of a crystal tumbler,  still reeling from Julie's news. And wracking his brain for a way to fix  this, to keep her here in Royal where she belonged. Where she wanted to  be.

She was the only person in his life-aside from his mother-who truly  understood him. Who knew what made him tick. In fact, there were times  when he wondered if she knew him better than he knew himself. These past  few months, with the stress of seeing his hometown devastated, she was  the anchor that had kept him grounded. She had been there to support him  during his mother's past two hospital stays, which seemed to stretch  longer each time she was admitted. Julie sat with her on her breaks,  read to her when she was too weak to hold a book in her own two hands.  He never even had to ask for her help. She just seemed to sense when he  needed her, and she was there.

Drew Farrell, a fellow club member, and the owner of Willowbrook Farms,  slid onto the stool beside him at the bar. In blue jeans, worn boots  and a dusty cowboy hat, he looked more like a ranch hand than a man  responsible for breeding multiple Triple Crown – winning horses. And  though he dealt regularly with an elite and prestigious clientele, he  couldn't be more down-to-earth. He was that guy in town everyone liked.  Well, everyone but his neighbor Beth Andrews, who, up until the storm,  had it in for Drew. But now, by some strange twist of fate, they were  engaged to be married.

The complicated nature of relationships never ceased to amaze Luc.

Drew gestured to the bartender for a drink, and within seconds a bottle  of his favorite brew sat on the bar in front of him. "What's the  score?" he asked Luc.

It took Luc a few seconds to realize Drew was referring to the game  playing on the television behind the bar. He'd been so lost in thought  he hadn't even noticed it was on. "No idea," he said, taking a sip of  his drink.

"I'm sorry I missed the ribbon cutting at the clinic. I had a client in town looking to buy one of my mares."

"No apology necessary. If there was any way I could have gotten out of it, I would have."

"Is that why you look so down?"

Luc ran his thumb around the brim of his glass. "Nope."

"Anything I can do to help?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Maybe it would be better if I left you alone," his friend said, grabbing his beer and making a move to get up.