Executive Protection(66)

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About two hours ago, Sophie came down in her pajamas and the birthday party had begun. Thad had brought down her presents, and she had just finished opening them. He and Lucy had picked up a few more before coming here. The living room was a mess, wrapping paper and boxes on the floor and cake plates on the ottoman. He forgot about why he shouldn’t enjoy this. He just would, and when the weekend was over, he’d deal with the fallout then, if there was any.

The ugly thought came that there may not be any if Sophie was put into another foster home. If she stayed with Lucy, the entire situation changed, and he couldn’t go there.

Sophie’s eyes drooped, but she doggedly persevered in her play. Lucy laughed softly at the sight, adoration at its purest.

It was getting late. Thad went to the window to check the weather. The rain had turned to snow, slanting at an angle with the force of the wind. The beach house had been built solid, all out of stone and concrete. He could hear the wind every once in a while and that fact told him how powerful the storm was. No hurricane by any stretch, but enough to strand them here for a day or two.

“It’s time for bed, Sophie,” Lucy said. “We’ll bring your presents up to your room.”

Sophie didn’t protest. She was practically falling asleep sitting up. It was after ten and it had been a big day—she’d sleep a long time.

“I’ll bring her presents up,” Thad said.

Lucy looked at him. “You want to stay up with me?”

Was she deliberately tempting him? “Yes.” He didn’t care about what would happen after they left Carova. He had a strong desire to spend time with Lucy alone. He wasn’t going to deny himself that.

After bringing the presents up, paying special attention to the dollhouse and positioning it so that Sophie would see it if she woke, Thad went downstairs to get ready for Lucy.

He turned off the television and turned on the stereo, finding an easy listening station, idly wondering if they’d lose electricity. He’d done a check of all the systems here, as his mother had strategically sent him to do. He knew her real agenda—for him and Lucy to end up together. She didn’t need him to come here and get the house ready. She could have sent servants to do that. Granted, a servant could be in disguise, but all of their servants had been employed by the Winston family for years. They had very low turnover because they were paid well and had benefits.

Going into the kitchen, he took a bottle of sauvignon from the wine holder and began to uncork it. All the while, conflicting motives churned in him. Seduce Lucy. Block Lucy from his heart. Seduce Lucy. Block Lucy.

He couldn’t delude himself. Lucy did attract him and he wanted to be involved with her. Would she be willing? When he’d met her, she had been actively seeking husband and family. Would she forego that to be with him? At least put it off?

She had Sophie now. That changed the game, for her and for him. Sophie challenged his conviction. He vowed never to bring children into a dysfunctional family. But how could he look at Sophie and still call it dysfunction? That unsettled him.

He poured Lucy a glass of wine and then himself some eighteen-year-old Glenmorangie into a Scotch tumbler, followed by a splash of water. He rarely drank, but for some reason tonight felt like a celebration, and making it home through the storm had nothing to do with it. Lucy had everything to do with it. Last night. This morning. And, yes, even their conversation. Except, he couldn’t pinpoint why. How could her challenging his beliefs feel good? Maybe it was the love she spoke of. Maybe it was the fairy tale. Was he beginning to believe in the fairy tale? No. He refused to do that.

He looked to his left when he heard Lucy come down the stairs. She appeared around the wall and his course was set. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved cream-colored knit shirt and socks. Not the nightgown that had captivated him before, but nothing could hide her beauty. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders and her trim hips swayed as she approached.

Seduce Lucy.

Passing the leather sectional, he met her in the open area between the entry and the great room. She took the glass of wine and looked down at his tumbler.

“A manly drink, huh?”

“One thing I got from my dad,” he said. One of few.

Her light green eyes sparkled with appeal. “Did you get the art of seduction from him, too?”

She couldn’t have asked a more digging question. How had she targeted him so accurately? His father had been a master with women. Did Lucy think he bore some similarities? He may not be unfaithful to the women he chose to develop relationships with, but he didn’t settle for just one. It put him in check.


“I didn’t mean...” Lucy began to apologize for implying he treated women the same as his father had.

“No.” He stopped her. “You’re right. We still haven’t finished our conversation from this morning.” He should never have considered continuing this with her without doing so.

Lucy sipped her wine, drilling him with her eyes. She was such a perceptive woman. Smart. With a funny streak.

“You want me to agree to a relationship with you for as long as you remain interested and then we go our separate ways.”

She stated the fact, and not in a savory way.

“It may not be me who becomes disinterested,” he said.

She strolled closer to the living room, looking through the window at the rain turning to snow.