Dinner? The thought hadn’t even crossed Lecie’s mind, nor had any of the others talked about it. Her eyes traveled around the group and then back to Gerard. “Tell Lois that we’ll be dining in this evening.” She looked back at her guests. “Six-thirty sound okay?”
“Perfect,” Camille said. “But let’s feed the children a little earlier. Say five?”
Lecie looked back at Gerard. “There you have it.”
He tipped his chin and backed away. He was so formal. Even though she was used to that sort of thing, she still found it amusing having her very own, do-everything-by-the-book butler.
“I really don’t know why I need this guy,” she said. “Or Lois for that matter.”
“I think it’s a good idea to have Gerard here,” Camille said. “Especially once you get married. I mean, we can only assume that our judgment is good in our quest to find you a husband.” She shrugged. “But when it comes down to it, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Lecie hadn’t thought of that. The man she married would have to live in her house for as long as the marriage lasted. It would have been so much easier if Nick Matthews or Dean Triplett had agreed to this charade. At least she felt like she knew them, even if she didn’t. Not really. But, at the end of the day, she thought she would’ve been safe with either of them.
“Point taken,” Lecie said. “But how am I supposed to find someone acceptable?” She watched the children in the pool just so she wouldn’t have to look Tasha and Camille in the eye. If they looked into her eyes, they might see the insecure idiot hiding behind them. “I don’t want every weirdo in the state knocking on my door because of a quarter of a million dollars.”
“We could always try dating sites,” Tasha piped up.
“That’s a disaster waiting to happen.” Camille laughed.
“Maybe we should just try a good, old-fashioned “help wanted” ad?” Tasha nodded eagerly.
Lecie’s belief that this idiotic plan could work deflated. If her prospective husband was looking for a job, that meant he didn’t have one. If he didn’t have a job, he’d be here. All day. With her. She didn’t like that idea any more than going back home with Camille and Tasha next week.
“This is not going to work,” Deidra said, confirming Lecie’s fears.
“She’d better pray otherwise.” Tasha snorted.
And Lecie knew, just like everybody else on the terrace, that if it didn’t work, she’d be on the next flight back to France.
Lecie let out a long sigh, her shoulders drooping, and dropped her head into her hand. Still cradling her forehead, she looked at the others and said, “Why can’t my father just let me live my life?”
None of the adults said anything for at least ten seconds, then all three of Lecie’s companions burst into laughter at the same time.
“So…what’s it going to be?” Tasha asked. “A help wanted ad or a dating service?” Her cell phone chimed, interrupting the groaning that was making its way up Lecie’s throat. Tasha grabbed her phone off the table, checked the display and frowned, but answered the call anyway. “Tasha de Laurent,” she said her name eloquently with her American-influenced French accent.
Lecie and Deidra, and even Camille—even though she said it the same way—chuckled over Tasha’s enunciation. Thankfully, de Laurent was about the only thing that’d ever come out of Camille and Tasha’s mouths with them trying to sound French.
“Yes, it is.” Seconds later Tasha waved her hands in the air at Lecie and pointed to the phone.
Lecie gave her a one-sided shrug that oftentimes accompanied the unspoken inquiry. What?
“Why, hell yes, she wants to talk to you!” Tasha said, a little too giddy to suit Lecie.
Lecie mouthed the words, who is that?
Tasha ignored her, and said into the phone, “Can you come by the house?” She waited, listening. “Sure, that’s fine. Come around six. We’re having dinner at six-thirty.” More listening, then Tasha laughed. “Nonsense. We’d love to have you. Believe me, it’s no intrusion.” More listening, then Tasha snapped her fingers at Lecie, saying, “what’s the address here?”
Lecie rattled it off and Tasha relayed it to the caller, then ended the call with an eager, “We’ll see you about six.” After disconnecting the call, she looked at Lecie with an oversized grin.
“Who was that?” Lecie asked in a sharp tone.
“That…” Tasha said, quirking an eyebrow and smiling. “Was Prince Charming.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
NICK HADN’T ADEQUATELY PREPARED HIMSELF for what he’d walked into at this house for the ultra-rich that just so happened to be located less than a mile from Hang Ten.
Dinner had been awkward—although Dean would’ve enjoyed being the only man at a table with four beautiful women—but Nick couldn’t seem to find his comfort zone, knowing that one of these women practically held his future in her hands.
The sisters-in-law had encouraged Nick and Lecie to take their dessert on the terrace, where they could discuss the fine points of their proposed arrangement in private.
Stepping through the opening for the sliding glass door, the sun had not yet set but its glare had been masked by the weeping willow and palm trees at the back of the yard. This late spring evening held an unusual chill in the air.
Lecie sat down on the terrace’s sofa, so Nick took the chair to her right. Close enough to talk without yelling, but still far enough away that they could both avoid a crowded feeling.
She drew her arms up against her sides and shivered. Nick asked, “Are you cold?”
“It’s a little chilly,” she said. She was trying not to smile, he could tell, but even so, a slight grin had begun to break on the corners of her mouth.
He glanced at the fire pit, then back to her. “Would you like me to build a fire?” he asked. She looked like she was about ready to run for the hills. Nick didn’t want that. “It won’t take long, and I promise I won’t overstay my welcome.”
The smile she’d been trying so hard to restrain spread across her luscious lips. “That’d be great.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and Nick about died. “And don’t worry about overstaying your welcome. The person who accepts my offer will have to live here.” She looked around, and Nick tried to expel the carnal thoughts invading his head. “At least for as long as the marriage lasts.”