The Tycoon And I: Safe in the Tycoon's Arms / The Tycoon and the Wedding Planner / Swept Away by the Tycoon

She didn’t see why they couldn’t both benefit from this production, but she could tell he wasn’t quite sold. Now how would she nudge him into agreement? She didn’t have a clue, but there had to be a way.

“Do you really think people are going to line up to come here?” He glanced around at the dirty surroundings.

“I know it needs a little TLC, but this place will draw in lots of curious folks.”

“I don’t think so.”

Her insides quivered as she stepped up to him. “Please. I’ll beg if I have to.”

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_77453ccf-cb1f-52e8-8792-f43a9f6839ba)

A BALL OF SYMPATHY churned in Lucas’s gut. He knew all too well the private hell a parent went through when they felt as if they’d lost control of their child’s well-being. But Kate was asking him to open up his home—a piece of himself—to public scrutiny. His life was already disrupted enough by that magazine article. He didn’t need people he didn’t even know coming in here and whispering behind his back.

He needed time to think. But not here. Not now. He turned on his heels.

“Wait!”

His steps faltered, but he didn’t turn back. He couldn’t. It would be utter torture to witness the desperation written all over her delicate features. Or the disappointment when he denied her what she so badly wanted.

“I’m not finished.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “At least hear me out.”

He didn’t know what else she had on her mind, but he at least owed her the decency of hearing her out. He stopped in the foyer and turned. The desperation on her face ate at his resolve.

“I’m sorry.” She caught up to him. “I don’t mean to pester you. I just... I need to do everything to help my daughter.”

Lucas shifted his weight from one foot to the other. This wasn’t his problem, no matter how bad he felt for her and the awful situation she was facing. He couldn’t let himself get sucked back into the miserable murkiness of helplessness. Yet turning his back on Kate clearly wasn’t an option either.

When the silence dragged on, Kate spoke up. “Do you like my idea about planning a party like your grandmother might have done? You know, displaying the new line of jewelry?”

He actually liked her suggestion a lot. “I’d need to find someone to wear the jewelry.”

“I’m sure you must have some beautiful models on hand. Any woman would die to wear Carrington Gems.”

“But this will have to be done right. The clothes and hair will all have to be choreographed to give the gems the best display possible.”

“You make it sound very planned out.”

“It will be. Trust me. Only the best for Carrington.”

The smile dipped from her face and she suddenly looked quite serious. “Does this mean we have a deal?”

“Not quite.” Though a voice inside him said he was crazy to open his home to the public, business sense told him this personalized campaign might make a big difference to the Fiery Hearts jewelry launch. “I want daily progress reports, including any surprises or unexpected delays. If I find at any point you aren’t completely forthcoming, the deal is off.”

He wasn’t the first client to micromanage a project. Having Lucas looking over her shoulder wasn’t her preferred way to work, but she’d make do. “Not a problem. I can write up a daily summary of our progress.”

“I’d prefer to have these updates in person. Say over dinner each evening.”

“You want us to dine every night?” She hadn’t counted on that and after the kiss in the car, she wasn’t so sure spending time together was a good idea. She wasn’t ready for a relationship—she wasn’t sure she ever would be again. They hurt way too much when they ended.

“Considering we’ll be living here together, I don’t see where that will be such a hardship.”

“But I’ll be at the hospital.”

“No problem. I’m used to eating late. I’ll have something waiting when you get home.” He sent her a don’t-argue-with-me look. “I’ll let you think it over.”

“I don’t need to.” His eyes lit up with surprise, but the truth was she didn’t have any time to waste. This place needed lots of TLC. “It’s a deal. Now would you mind if we went upstairs? I’d like to get your input on some things.”

His head lowered and he spoke in a strangled voice. “I can’t go back up there.”

Not I won’t or some other excuse, but rather I can’t. What was up with that? She was tempted to ask—tempted to ease his pain. But she reminded herself that this was a business relationship. Nothing more.

“Lucas, thank you...for all of this.” When his gaze rose to meet hers, she noticed a poignant sadness in his eyes. “Tell me, what do you plan to do with this house? You know, once it’s fixed up?”

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Does it matter?”

“Actually it does. If you’re planning to sell, then the interior should be more neutral to invite people to envision their family and possessions within these walls. But if you have plans of keeping it and living here then we can tailor everything to your taste.”

“It doesn’t matter. Use your best judgment.”

Frustration bubbled up in Kate. She’d never encountered this problem before. Usually her clients had too many ideas—ideas outside of their budget and she’d have to rein them in. And though she was tempted to run with the utter freedom he suggested, something told her that Lucas wasn’t as apathetic to the house’s remodel as he wanted her to believe.

She lifted her chin and looked him straight on. “If you would walk through the rooms with me and give me a basic idea of what you have in mind, I could come up with some sketches for you to look over.”

“I only have one requirement. There’s a room upstairs at the other end of the hallway from yours. I don’t want anyone in there. It’s locked and it’s to remain that way.”

“But this place is filthy. You might not want to paint the room, but we’ll need to clean it.”

“No. I don’t want you going in there. Period.”

What in the world was his hang-up about that room? Had it been the room he shared with the ex-wife? Was he secretly pining for her? Somehow his reaction still seemed over the top.

Perhaps someone had died in the room. If so, that would explain why he was acting so strange. And it’d be a more reasonable explanation for turning this house into some sort of mausoleum. If she were ever to lose Molly... Her heart stuttered and a cold sweat broke out on the nape of her neck. No. She would not go there.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was important to you.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It’s just that it’s my...uh, never mind. I just need it left alone.”

“I understand.”

The man might be a little rough around the edges and have a few peculiarities, but she wanted to reach out to him and find out what he’d been on the verge of saying. Still, a nagging voice in the back of her mind warned her not to let her defenses down around him. In her experience, men were basically the same—unreliable.

She’d thought the moon rose and set around her father—how could she have been so wrong? She wanted to tell herself that it was because she was a child and didn’t know any better. But that didn’t explain Chad. She’d utterly and completely fallen for his charm and empty promises. She’d even agreed to his spur-of-the-moment proposal and rushed Las-Vegas-style I dos.

She’d convinced herself that he’d eventually settle down—once they found the right town. But no matter how many jobs he had in this place or that place, none of them suited him.

By the time she became pregnant, she couldn’t remember the address of her latest apartment. She was certain when she told Chad about the baby that it would give him a reason to plant some roots. She’d been so wrong.

He’d been enraged and was convinced that she’d tricked him into getting her pregnant. He’d left that night, only to play a sporadic part in their daughter’s life while he continued to chase his ever-changing dreams.