The Tycoon Meets His Match (14 page)

“I don’t see what this has to do…”

“It’s lesson number one.” And just like that, she segued back to her original topic. “You know how I feel about this marriage. But you’re bound and determined to go through with it. So if you hope to be a good husband for Lucie, you’ve got to lighten up. Let loose once in a while, and for heaven’s sake, stop taking everything so seriously. Especially yourself.”

He didn’t even bother to hide his irritation. “Forgive me for asking, but what qualifies you to give advice on matrimony? When exactly was the last time you got married? Or for that matter, sustained a long-term relationship?”

She bristled. “This isn’t about me.”

Watching her profile, Rhys had to wonder why no one had yet laid claim to her heart. With a face like that—and yes, that body—she could have any man she wanted. According to Lucie, she rarely dated anyone more than once. She was too particular and so protective of her independence, she wouldn’t know true love if it stepped up and bit her in the face.

Yet clearly, Trae was a passionate woman. Last night was certainly proof enough of that. No one could call him a monk, but Rhys had never before been with anyone so responsive, so attuned to his every touch. Made him wonder what might have happened had they not been interrupted.

He looked away, sternly reminding himself why he was scrunched into this car, chasing across the country with limited funds. Lucie was out there, expecting him to find and rescue her. She needed him.

While Trae, well, obviously the woman could take care of herself.

On the other side of the car, Trae was feeling anything but capable at the moment. Though she stared straight ahead, she could sense him watching her, could feel the heat of his gaze as it burned into her skin.

He was right, of course. She was far from an expert on marriage and probably the last person on earth qualified to dole out advice. She hadn’t really wanted to “reinvent” anybody. She’d thrown it out there as a diversion, something to pass the long hours ahead, hoping to avoid awkward moments such as this.

When all the while, she should have been telling him what Lucie had actually said in her message.

Why couldn’t she bring herself to tell Rhys that Lucie was waiting for him—no,
expecting
him—to come rescue her? It seemed a stupid thing to keep secret; he was bound to learn of it eventually. And what would Lucie think when she found out Trae hadn’t told him? Yet even just now, when the opportunity arose again, she’d opted to keep the truth to herself.

He wasn’t going to tell her about finding his wallet, either, she thought defensively, but deep down she knew it wasn’t the same. As he’d pointed out, his wallet didn’t directly impact her. Lucie’s true intentions, however, could make a great deal of difference in what Rhys felt and did next.

Yet Trae still couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Fighting not to squirm, she gave him a sidelong glance, avoiding direct eye contact. He was no longer watching her, but his obvious discomfort made her feel even worse. Somewhere along the way, he had stopped being the enemy. She could no longer see him as a monster—he’d become a flesh-and-blood, multidimensional human being instead.

And because of it, tormenting him wasn’t half the fun it used to be.

“Listen, I’m going to pull over up here at that rest stop. We can get out, stretch our legs, and maybe you can check your messages. For all we know, Lucie could have called in the meantime.”

He merely grunted.

The chances were slim, she conceded, especially considering Lucie’s last message, but just in case, Trae decided to check her own messages. Lucie was forever calling with some high drama crisis, only to call back the next day to admit she’d overreacted.

With a silent prayer that this was the case now, Trae pulled into the rest area. There were two banks of phones, so she parked between them. Still not speaking, Rhys marched off to one, while she went to the other.

Trae’s sole message was from her mother. A rather long and disjointed lecture, indiscriminately peppered with Spanish, rambling on about some dire emergency requiring immediate attention. Trae caught only two words at the end. The first was
father
and the second was
stroke.

Heart pounding, she dialed her parent’s number. After seven interminable rings, she was startled to hear her father’s hoarse growl on the other end of the line.

“Pop?” she asked quickly. “You okay?”

His only answer was a grunt, and a “Here’s your mother.”

Letting her mom rant, Trae eventually learned that her father had
nearly
had a stroke because his only daughter couldn’t take time from her busy life to spend a few hours with her family. Where was Trae last Sunday that she couldn’t make it home for dinner? What was so important that she would put her poor parents through untold worry and heartache? Not even a call to let them know she was still alive. They had to find out from Vinny that she’d been off gallivanting halfway across the world.

Hanging on to her patience by the slimmest thread, Trae pointed out that California was hardly the ends of the earth. She could have saved her breath. Apparently, Vinny had mentioned Miami and New Orleans, as well. The fact that Trae couldn’t be content with those two cities, that she had strayed all the way to the West Coast and to such a crazy place as Hollywood, was enough to give her poor sainted father palpitations. Listening to her rant, Trae was glad Vinny had had the good sense not to mention Las Vegas.

So when her mother got around to asking where she was calling from, Trae said the first thing that came into her head. “I, uh, I’m visiting an old friend from college.” She racked her brains for a name her mother might not remember. “Jo Kerrin. My old roommate. The one that got married. I’m, uh, helping her get settled back in New Orleans.” She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping her mother wouldn’t start grilling her for details.

“As long as you’re home by Sunday,” her mom warned, staying focused on what mattered most to her. “It’s CiCi’s birthday, don’t forget, and she’s expecting her favorite aunt to be here. To make it special.”

CiCi was about to turn seven, an age when birthdays were monumental occasions. Picturing her niece’s beaming face, Trae felt a lump form in the back of her throat.

Staring at the rough desert landscape around her, she did the calculations. Barring any unforeseen difficulties, they should reach New Orleans by Saturday morning. If they located Lucie right away, that should give her ample time to talk with her friend, help her with whatever she decided and still catch a flight home in time for Sunday dinner. Assuming she could afford it and the strike was over. “I’ll be there,” she said, praying it was true.

“If you’re not,” her mom pounced, able to catch even the slightest doubt in her daughter’s voice, “your brothers will come after you.”

No idle threat. A few years ago on Joey’s third anniversary, Trae pretended to have the flu so she could go on a much-anticipated skiing weekend with friends. Ever alert, her mom had ferreted out the lie and dispatched Tony, Vic and Mike to the ski lodge. Her brothers had made such a scene, Trae had opted to leave with them to save her friends—and herself—from further embarrassment.

That was her family. Nobody missed a special occasion.

“Dinner will be at four,” her mom pronounced. “We’ll see you then.” And with a quick, sharp click, her mother ended the call.

Frowning, Trae glanced over at Rhys, barking into the phone on the opposite side of the rest area. Still hanging onto the receiver, her mother’s words fresh in her mind, Trae was never more aware of how vastly different her world was from the one Rhys inhabited.

Yet the more she thought about it, the more she realized they had one thing in common. Feeling the weight of her mother’s expectations, she could sympathize with Paxton’s stubborn determination to do the right thing. When the people who loved you counted on you, it was impossible to let them down.

Duty and responsibility might come in many guises, she supposed, but the trap they formed was one and the same. Ironic how Rhys stood in his corner bound by his sense of obligation, while she stood in the opposite corner bogged down by hers.

And in the end it would be their similarities, not differences, that would keep them apart.

Rhys clung to that hope. Still, there were preparations to be made. “We need to sit down with the management team. The lawyers.”

“I’m on it, Rhys. You can count on me.”

“Like with the hotel reservation?”

He could hear Jack sigh on the other end of the line. “Okay, I screwed up. But this time, I won’t. No matter what the old man claimed, I’m not an idiot, Rhys. I know how important this is. I swear, I won’t let you down.”

Rhys could hear the plea in his tone. “Sam Beardsley is still there, isn’t he?”

Jack’s sigh held a note of exasperation. “Yes, my babysitter is overseeing every move I make. Will you relax? Go find Lucie and bring her home. We can handle things on this end.”

With a click, Jack took the decision out of his hands.

Marching to the car, Rhys cursed under his breath. “I’ll drive,” he announced to Trae when he joined her.

She paused, clearly startled by his crisp tone. “But…”

“You can’t drive day and night, Trae. Not if we hope to reach New Orleans in one piece.”

He yanked open the driver’s-side door, not leaving it up for discussion. She made a huffing sound, as if exasperated, but took her seat on the passenger side tamely enough.

Sliding back the seat and adjusting the mirrors, Rhys pulled out of the gas station in a cloud of dust. He drove with grim determination, chewing up miles and spitting them out.

And with each passing moment, he could feel his muscles loosening, his brain relaxing. What an improvement, being behind the wheel. Not only could he stretch out his legs, but he did some of his best thinking while driving. And let’s face it, he had plenty that needed sorting out.

For one thing, he had to ponder the reason why he’d yet to hear word one from Lucie. No plea for help, not even an apology for leaving him at the altar. Granted, she was probably ashamed by her thoughtless behavior, but it had been five days and all he knew—and this from Trae, mind you—was that she’d run off with her old boyfriend without looking back. Maybe Trae was right. Maybe Lucie had decided she didn’t want this marriage after all.

And how did he feel about that?

He couldn’t afford to feel anything, he told himself sternly. Until he found Lucie and she told him this herself, the topic was sheer speculation.

No, he might better concentrate on his conversation with Jack and why it had left him feeling off-kilter. The looming acquisition concerned him, yes, but Rhys had adequately dealt with such problems before and would do so again in the future.

No, what disconcerted him most was that talking to Jack had seemed like connecting with another universe. Another lifetime. Here on the road, he no longer had to be Rhys Allen Paxton III, a product of his environment, defined—no, restricted—by his job responsibilities. For once he was free to be an entirely different person.

And how did he feel about that?

Part of him knew he was acting irresponsibly, that he had to put an end to it. The sane, logical, Rhys Allen Paxton insisted he should get back to Manhattan as soon as possible.

But the other Rhys, this new, free-thinking, unrestrained creature he’d discovered, wasn’t ready for the adventure to end. Granted, going without money was proving to be more of a challenge than he’d originally anticipated, but hey, nobody could ever call it dull.

And all Trae’s accusations aside, he
was
adapting. A road trip to New Orleans might not be his first choice for a vacation, but here he was, driving cross-country, showing that he, too, could laugh and joke and cope as well as the next guy. That he could have fun.

As evidenced by the current smile on his face.

Concerned that Trae might have caught him at it, he sobered instantly. A quick glance in her direction reassured him that she hadn’t even noticed. Looking straight ahead, she didn’t seem to be focused on anything. Come to think of it, she’d been abnormally quiet for quite some time.

She seemed lost in thoughts of her own. Not good ones, if her tight features and stiff posture were anything to go by. Most telling of all, she was biting her lower lip. Something was bothering her. And for some strange reason, this bothered him, as well.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice sounding like a cannon blast in the confines of the car. “Another message from Lucie?”

“What?” She blinked, then recovered. “Oh. No. Just my mother.”

“Trouble at home?”

She sighed heavily. “Sometimes I don’t know why I return her calls. With Mom, it’s always a big emergency.”

“Do you need to get back?” he asked.

She shook her head. “She uses my dad’s health as emotional blackmail. He’s in better shape than the both of us, but she knows I can’t take the chance. So I call her back only to find she wants to make sure I’ll be home for the family dinner.”

“All that for a simple meal?”

“Nothing’s simple about Sunday dinner in the Andrelini household.” She turned in the seat, facing him, folding a leg beneath her. “You have to understand. For Mom, it’s this huge production, the same command performance every week. My parents, my brothers and their wives, all my nieces and nephews. With thirty of us, there’s always a special occasion to celebrate. Last Sunday was Little Joey’s First Communion. Chasing after Lucie, I forgot all about it.”

“Surely, once you explained…”

Trae shook her head vehemently. “You don’t get off the hook that easily with Yolanda Andrelini. All she’ll ever see is that I let poor Little Joey down. Even if I show up with the very best gift ever in the world, she’ll still make me feel like a worm. And he probably didn’t even notice I wasn’t there.”

“Wow. Put marbles in her mouth, and she’ll sound like the Godfather.”

That won him the slightest of grins. “She’s scarier, trust me. She has her beliefs, and she never backs down. To her, family is everything. Her life, her sacred duty. Do anything to any one of us and she’ll rip you apart.”

Rhys smiled. “So that’s where you get it from.”

“Very funny, Paxton.” She whacked him gently on the arm. “Sadly enough, though, I’m no match for that woman. She won’t let me be. I can get married, have kids and live to be a hundred and still she’ll treat me like her little baby.”

He was beginning to see why Trae tried to be so fiercely independent.

She sighed again. “Most mothers don’t stifle their kids like that. I bet yours didn’t.”

Rhys thought of his mother, off somewhere on the French Riviera, living far beyond the generous allowance he provided. “Have to admit, it’s hard to imagine Deidre fixing any dinner, much less one for a large family.”

“Oh, come on. She must have done a holiday or two. Every mother cooks for Thanksgiving.”

“Not mine. She never bothered to learn how. Our meals came catered, to be consumed separately in an individual room of choice. I tried the dining room once, but the sound of my silverware echoing off the plate seemed so depressing. Generally, I ate by myself in the kitchen.”

“Jeez, Paxton. That sounds like something Dickens would write. Did she make you scrub floors and sleep in the gutter?”

He laughed, the sound dry and mirthless. “As if she’d go to the trouble. She had servants for that and besides, she far preferred to ignore me. Right up until she took off with her lawyer the day before my seventh birthday.”

“Your seventh? But you were just a baby.”

He liked hearing her concern. Maybe that was why he suddenly felt so expansive. “Jack was only two, which was why Deidre had to take him. She couldn’t have people talking about her behind her back, accusing her of abandoning her baby. I’d be fine, she told me before she left. I was self-reliant, I could take care of myself, and besides, I looked too much like my father. Having me around would only upset her. In the same spirit of self-preservation, she’s minimized our contact ever since. I’ve seen her a total of three times—at my father’s funeral, the reading of his will and then in court when she tried to contest it.”

Trae shook her head, as if she found it hard to believe. “I wondered why she wasn’t at the wedding.”

“She was invited, but I guess she had to make a statement. My father left control of his estate in my hands, and she’s never forgiven me for it. Four divorces can run up a hefty bill.”

She was watching him, head tilted to the side. “I’d be devastated if my mother abandoned me. How can you make it sound so…so matter of fact?”

He shrugged, but it wasn’t mundane at all. It had taken years to understand that the fault lay with her, and not himself.

“Well,” she added with a sigh. “At least you had your father.”

“Yeah, that was an upgrade,” he told her sarcastically. “Mr. Congeniality himself. His idea of quality family time meant that I never bothered him. Children, he firmly believed, were not to be heard
or
seen.”

“But he was your dad,” Trae protested, visibly puzzled. “Surely you must have some good memories together. A fishing trip, maybe, or camping in the woods.”

He snorted. “Rhys Paxton II, getting his pants dirty? I tried joining the Boy Scouts in grade school, but my father wouldn’t participate. He was always out of town on business when the camping trips came up. So, no, we didn’t camp and we didn’t fish.”

“So how did you grow up to be so normal?”

At least they’d progressed to the point where she could consider him normal. “Believe it or not, I adapted. And, yes,” he held up a hand as if to stop her, “I did gripe a lot. I guess it’s my nature.”

She rewarded him with a grin.

“Besides, I wasn’t left completely alone,” he continued. “Jack visited sometimes, I had friends at school, and then when I was fifteen, Lucie came along.”

“I bet she brightened things up.”

A picture drifted into his mind, ten-year-old Lucie with her long blond ponytail, perched on the fence as she peppered him with question after question. “She used to follow me everywhere,” he said with a smile. “My little shadow, chattering in my ear, describing every thought that ever flitted into her head. I was this hotshot high school freshman, right? Too cool to be bothered by a fourth-grade brat. But there was something about her, something that drew me. Once I met Hal and Mitsy, I saw why Lucie tailed me. Poor kid needed someone to talk to. Someone who would listen and not always judge.”

Trae nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I know what you mean. First time I met her, she told me about her mother. Didn’t take long before she was telling me every other aspect of her life.”

And that must have been when Lucie stopped confiding everything in him. Was that why he’d always resented Trae?

“I always wondered how you two became such good friends,” he said, uncomfortable with the realization. “You have to be polar opposites.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She seemed surprised, as if the thought had never occurred to her. She turned to gaze sightlessly out the windshield, her mind more on the past than the road before them. “I remember the first time I met her. I was so homesick I was literally ill from it. Miles from home for the first time in my life, a nobody from Brooklyn among all those poor-me-I-only-got-one-Porsche-for-Christmas debutantes. It was definitely an adjustment.”

Rhys studied her, surprised by her confession. “I have trouble imagining you as a fish out of water. You seem so adaptable.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m human. All I know is that I was sitting in the dorm lounge, this close to giving up my scholarship and crawling home in defeat like my parents kept urging, when Lucie strolled up to sit next to me. I can’t remember what started our conversation, something silly to do with whatever was on television I imagine, but I can still feel the wonder of discovering somebody who made me feel at home.”

Against his will, his heart went out to her. Lately, he’d been finding a lot of vulnerability beneath the brash facade.

With a sigh, she turned back to face him. “I figured it couldn’t last,” she went on. “I mean, really, Lucie Beckwith, the richest of them all and most qualified for snobbery, giving me her stamp of approval? The next time she was with her friends, who’d only seemed to care about money, she’d have no choice but to snub me.”

“We talking about the same girl?”

“I didn’t know her then, okay? But, yeah, I soon learned differently. Maybe an hour later, her pals showed up, demanding she leave with them. Lucie told them that she’d talk to whomever she wanted.” She paused, smiling inwardly. “I ask you, how can you
not
be best friends with someone who does that for you?”

Rhys felt a rush of pride at the thought of Lucie’s coming to Trae’s rescue. “She takes friendship seriously. She always says that the best ones are not only a gift, but also a duty.”

“Yeah, I got that lecture, too.” She shook her head, apparently not comfortable with the memory. “Back when Jo Kerrin got in trouble.”

The name rang a bell. Searching his memory, Rhys could remember Lucie talking about one of her roommates. “Jo Kerrin? Isn’t that the girl who quit school to marry her high school sweetheart?”

“Right after we decided to leave the dorm and rent a house together. I guess we should have called Jo once in a while after she eloped, but we were annoyed at her for sticking us with the extra rent. If Lucie hadn’t tracked her down and kept in touch, we might never have known that Jimmy beat her. Badly enough to put her in a hospital.”