desk. What she needed right now was to get lost in her work. There were still numerous details about the Garvey case to work out. It would probably work best if she and Lucky divided up the four potential heirs and then consulted daily on their findings. Although perhaps it would be smarter to…
With two arms braced on her desk, Lucky leaned toward her. She hadn’t even heard his approach. The man moved like a cat. “What happened?”
Striving to recapture the insouciance she’d managed with Brummond, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “You mean with Peter? Nothing at all. Why do you ask?”
But unlike the other man, the cool tone didn’t seem to fool Lucky. His dark gaze intent, he said softly, “Don’t lie to me, Jacey. You don’t want to tell me, then say that. But no lies. I think we owe each other better, n’est ce pas?”
Feeling a bit ashamed, she gave up the pretense of interest in the files and met his gaze. “Peter is getting married. Soon. As a matter of fact, there’s going to be an engagement party for him and his fiancée this weekend.”
His face was watchful. “He came here to tell you that?”
The knots were back in her shoulders. She leaned back in her chair, suddenly weary. “I would have found out for myself if I had opened the invitation that came to my house. As it turns out, I learned from my mother last night.” She made a face. “She’s not happy that I let him slip through my fingers.”
“So…what was he doin’ here?”
She gave a humorless smile. “Well, that depends on your interpretation, I imagine. Since I’m not in a particularly charitable mood, I’d say he was dispatched by his fiancée to make sure my appearance didn’t mar her special night.”
Pushing away from the desk, he rounded the corner and propped his hips against the side. Arms folded, he inquired, “And you told him…what?”
“That I wasn’t willing to give the gossips more fuel. Damn.” Lucky’s eyes widened a fraction as the unfamiliar curse passed her lips. “I’d rather face a ten-inch needle than put myself through facing all those people at his party.” Every one of them would be watching, judging her every expression and word. Just the thought had dread snaking through her belly.
“So don’t go.”
“I don’t have a choice.” Hearing the words, she corrected them. “I mean, I have choices, but I don’t like either of them. When it comes down to it, I refuse to allow myself to be the target of speculation. I’ll go, hold my head up and put on the show of my life. And I’ll detest every minute of it.” She met his gaze. “I guess that means I have more of my mother in me than I thought.”
“It means you have pride. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”
As awful as the beer had tasted, Jacey wished she had another. There was a sort of pleasant haze drifting over her, blunting the edges of her emotions. She’d never been much of a drinker. “What would you do if it were you?”
“I’d do exactly what you plan to. People will talk regardless. At least this way you can direct what they’re going to say.”
She considered that, before nodding. “Exactly. I’m not going to take my mother’s advice, though. She gave me a carefully prepared list of eligible bachelors from which to choose an escort. I had the impression they also met her requirements for a son-in-law.”
His face went impassive. “For once, Charlotte and I agree on something. If people think you’re involved with someone else you remove the drama from the scene. You don’t need her list, though. I’ll take you myself.”
A wave of warmth flooded her at the mere thought. Showing up with Lucky in tow wouldn’t stem talk about her, it would only stoke it. But there’d be no pitying looks directed her way with him by her side. Just because she was immune to his brand of charm herself, didn’t mean she was unaware of his effect on most other females. He’d be fortunate to escape the party without landing several propositions from the women, and more than a few hostile exchanges from the men.
A smile played across her lips. It would be almost worth suffering her mother’s wrath just to watch the impact he’d make accompanying her. With a reluctant shake of her head, though, she dismissed the idea. “You’d hate that sort of thing.”
“So you will owe me, c’est tout.” The wicked glint in his eye gave lie to his nonchalant shrug. “What’s a favor among friends?”
“I’d hate to guess what you’d demand in return. No, I’ll think of something.” Something, she hoped, that would leave her with a measure of dignity intact. And if it also included a way to maim Peter, she’d consider that a bonus. The situation was uncomfortable, but hardly rose to the level of catastrophic, no matter what her mother feared.
All she had to do between now and Saturday was to come up with a way to convince her friends and acquaintances that she was unaffected by the whole turn of events.
Piece of cake.
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