Overnight Heiress. Modean Moon
she missing the small duplex she had made into a warm, welcoming home? Or Patrick McBean, the man she’d told him had given her a job and hours that took into account her schooling and Danny, and reinforced the sense of self-worth Meg had spent a lifetime building?
A soft breeze found its way through the trees and teased a lock of Meg’s hair across her cheek. Absently she brushed it back, sighed and raised her tented hands to her mouth. He noticed the sheen of moisture in her eyes. And she noticed him.
“No. Don’t get up,” he told her when she started to scramble to her feet. “I’m sorry I startled you.” He crossed the few steps and seated himself on the stone ledge of the pond. “I’m sorry I disturbed you. You looked lost in thought.”
Meg sniffed once and grinned up at him. “What a kind way of saying I was wallowing in my emotions.”
“Were you?” he asked. “Wallowing?”
“Maybe.” Meg looked, and for a moment all her indecision and confusion and pain flowed from her to him. “Have you ever had your life completely change, Lucas? I thought I had seen changes—as Danny and I moved from one town to another—but I always knew who I was and who my son was. Now I’ve learned that all of that was based on a lie so horrible I can’t bear to consider it. Now I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who I can be. Can you have any idea how frightening that is?”
Oh, yes. He knew. He knew too well. But there was a difference in the changes she was undergoing from those he had been forced to make. “Do you have to know right now? Can’t you give yourself time to explore the possibilities? It’s only the outer trappings that have changed, Meg. Beneath all of those, you’re still the same fine woman and mother you were yesterday. And Danny’s still the same fine boy.”
She chuckled softly. “I hope so. I keep reminding myself to be patient, that this phase of his won’t last long.”
“I’ll send Jamie over tomorrow. She’ll show him the town and introduce him to her friends. If nothing else, peer pressure will bring him around.”
Again she laughed. And this time she did rise to her feet with an innate grace she seemed completely unaware of. She dusted off her slacks and cocked her head to one side as she looked at him. “But that’s not why you came. There’s more, isn’t there?”
Yes, there was more reason for his being here. More than he, himself, could even begin to understand. More than he could ever tell Meg Carlton. But this much he could tell her, even though he knew she wasn’t ready, even though he’d like to shield her from this. He nodded. “The Bureau called.”
She paled slightly, then sank onto the ledge beside him. “And so it starts?”
“Soon, Meg. Soon.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I’ve dictated a statement based on what you told me yesterday. If you’ll sign it, I’ll send it on to them. That ought to keep them quiet for a while.”
Meg took the pages. When she looked up from them, her eyes were bright with relief. “You kept it to the minimum.”
“That’s all they need for now. Later, yes, they will ask more questions than you’ll ever want to answer about your kidnapping. But this will keep them away until you’ve had a chance to orient yourself. And until you’ve had time to confer with the Carlton lawyers.”
“When?” she asked.
“Tomorrow. Edward’s personal attorney, Fallon Teague, is flying in late tonight I’ll delay this report as long as I can so that he can begin preparations before the Stemples or Blake are questioned—”
“Blake? Why would they question him?”
He heard the thread of panic in her voice, quickly masked, and cursed himself for causing it. “Even if they don’t, Meg, he will hear the news when it’s released. And it will be released. Or leaked. This was too big a case for someone to pass up the opportunity for publicity. But for now we’ve all agreed to play it low-key and quiet.”
“You mean, not tell?”
He nodded.
“I—Then I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t tell Patrick any more than you did. I mean, about a family emergency taking me out of town. I...thank you for calling him last night, Lucas. I didn’t think of it until very late. He’s been a good friend to me. He deserved to know a lot more than just that I won’t be back.”
“And he will, Meg. In fact, I don’t see any reason why you can’t tell him...but Fallon might, so please wait until after you talk to him tomorrow before you begin contacting your friends.”
“Lucas—”
The breeze once again caught a wayward curl and teased it across Meg’s cheek. Without thinking, Lucas lifted his fingers to it and eased it back in place. He heard Meg suck in a startled breath before he realized what he had done, but by then it was too late. His fingers rested on her cheek. She closed her eyes and turned her face slightly, into his touch, before her eyes flew open and her mouth parted in a silent question.
Not now, he told himself. Maybe not ever. Meg Carlton was a warm and loving woman, and it would be too easy to take advantage of her confusion or even her gratitude in her present mood. Lucas commanded his fingers to move from the softness of her cheek, to reach instead for the statement she held gripped in one hand. “If you’ll sign this,” he said, “I can get it in tonight’s mail instead of faxing it.”
Yes. Confusion. He saw that in her eyes. And he saw her understanding of his delaying tactics, with her and with the FBI.
“Of course,” she said, standing. “And tomorrow morning? You will be here, won’t you?”
Was it a question or an order? Lucas couldn’t be sure. It seemed this fragile-looking woman wasn’t quite so unprepared to take her place in the Carlton empire as she thought. He shouldn’t come back—Fallon was more than capable of guiding her through the morass of paperwork and protocol facing her—but he knew that nothing short of a major disaster would keep him from her side during this initial interview.
“Yes,” he told her. “Yes, I will be here.”
Four
Meg sighed with pleasure as the soft wool crepe settled over her body. Oh, yes. She could get to like this. She soothed the softly draping emerald green skirt in place and glanced in the full-length mirror in her dressing room.
She’d done easier things than that which she would be called upon to do in just minutes, but she’d done harder ones, too. It helped, a lot, that thanks to Marianna Richards and the experts she had called in, Meg now looked the part she was being called upon to play.
She touched her hair, not yet daring to disturb the new style. It was shorter than she had ever worn it, but feathered so that it looked longer and fuller. And it accented her eyes and cheekbones in a way that made her wonder if some fairy magic hadn’t been at work on those, too, while she slept.
At a discreet knock on her door, Meg slipped her feet into the two-inch heels Marianna had insisted upon and which brought her height to an even six feet. Old tapes played hard and loud. She found herself wanting to kick off the shoes and slump to hide her height. Instead, she threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin.
Edward’s housekeeper waited patiently in the hall. She wasn’t an unkind woman, or a suspicious one, just aloof. Even though Jennie had affectionately referred to her as Tommy, Meg hadn’t yet figured out how to chip away any of the woman’s layer of strict professional decorum. “Okay, Mrs. Tompkins,” Meg said. “Lead me to the wolves.”
The wolves waited in Edward’s study, a wonderful room, full of leather and dark polished walnut. There were three of them, Fallon Teague and two men who accompanied him. She studied them from the open doorway before entering the room and easily identified Teague. She recognized the type from the late-lunch crowd at Patrick’s. Strictly Type A, power lunch, constantly accessible