Fortune's Secret Husband. Karen Smith Rose
Charles said.
“What do you mean, ‘aha’? I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly. It was never over with this man, was it?”
“Of course it’s over. It’s been ten years.”
“Sometimes our hearts don’t count time. More than anything else, Lucie, you’d better figure out what you want. You can’t face the world with news like this with any uncertainty if it does get out.”
“I have to think. I need some time.”
Suddenly Lucie’s bedside phone rang. From caller ID, she could see that it was Irv downstairs.
“Is that your phone?” Charles asked.
“Yes, I have to get this. It’s the doorman. Someone must be downstairs. I have to go. Promise me, Charles, you won’t breathe a word of this.”
“I promise.”
She ended the call with her brother and picked up the phone. “Yes, Irv?”
“Mr. Parker is here to see you. Shall I send him up?”
“Tell him to give me five minutes,” she said, suddenly out of breath.
“Yes, Lady Lucie. I’ll make sure he gives you five minutes.”
She didn’t have time to do much, but she did have time to brush her teeth. She was wearing pink-and-white-flowered sleep pants and a pink tank. No time to think about clothes. She ran a brush through her hair and grabbed a long pink satin robe, belting it tightly.
There was a knock at her door.
She ran to it and looked through the peephole. It was Chase. Today he was dressed more casually. His chambray shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he’d left his suit jacket somewhere. She undid the chain lock and then the dead bolt. When she opened the door, she just stared at him.
Breaking out of whatever spell that came over her when she looked at him, her senses returned. “Did anyone see you down there?”
“No one was around but your doorman.”
“We have to be careful, Chase. If we’re seen together, there will be questions and gossip. If anybody finds out Irv is buzzing me to let you up, someone will investigate.”
“I get it. We’ll have to work something out,” he said, as if seeing each other might become a common occurrence. Because of paperwork? Because of resolving their situation, of course.
“We can’t be seen together here,” he reiterated. “I understand that. But certainly there are ways you go out when you don’t want to be recognized, right?”
“I have a wig.”
He nodded. “Come to breakfast with me. I know a hole in the wall, otherwise known as a truck stop, where you won’t be recognized and neither will I. There’s wonderful food there. We can talk about all this and what we’re going to do.”
She thought about it. Sometimes she did feel as if she were a captive in her apartment. Having a normal life was tough in her position. In her family, it had always been that way. Maybe that was why she’d been so reckless in Scotland when she met Chase. She just wanted to be normal. Since then, she’d accepted the fact that her life would never be that.
However, today—
“We can’t just walk out of here together,” she warned him.
He took his phone from his belt, tapped on his picture gallery and handed her the phone. “That’s a photo of my truck. It’s a blue pickup. I’ll drive into the parking garage and meet you up on the third level. Will that work?”
“That works, but I need at least ten minutes to get dressed.”
He looked her up and down. “I don’t know. What you’re wearing works for me.”
She blushed, and his grin and the sparkle in his eyes told her he was remembering when her being dressed in her robe or without her robe would have been just fine.
But that had been another time and place.
“I’ll meet you up on the third level, parking row C,” she confirmed.
“Got it,” he agreed, then went to her door and opened it. As he left, however, he threw another look to her that told her that, dressed or undressed, he still found her attractive. Just what was she going to do about that?
Fifteen minutes later, Lucie had her wig firmly in place, her sunglasses on her nose and all her wits about her. She would not let Chase rattle her. She couldn’t. There were too many consequences if she didn’t control this situation.
Finding Chase’s truck easily, she opened the passenger door and climbed inside.
Chase gave her a smile, nodded and started the engine. As he exited the parking garage, turned and drove down the street, he cut her a sideways glance. “You look hot as a redhead.”
So much for not being rattled by him. She didn’t respond.
She didn’t recognize the route he took, but then she didn’t know the city all that well yet. Ten minutes after they’d left the parking garage, he pulled up next to a gas station where several semis were fueling up. There was a restaurant attached—the Lone Star Diner.
Lucie had dressed in a more casual way than she usually did. After all, she didn’t want to be recognized. She’d worn jeans and a T-shirt and a blouse on top of that. Her auburn wig was curlier and fuller than her own hair and the chin-length strands brushed her cheeks. She had to hurry to keep up with Chase’s long strides as he led her into the diner.
“It’s totally impersonal,” he told her. “The waitresses rotate shifts, so the same ones are never on at the same time.”
“Do you come here often?”
“There are times when I like to be nameless, too. When I agreed to stay at the ranch, I told my mom I wouldn’t be there for regular meals. I didn’t want anybody keeping tabs on my comings or goings. So I drop in here now and then. The waitresses seem to have a high turnover. I haven’t run into the same one twice.”
All of that was good to know, not that she’d be coming back here again.
“The thing is,” he said in an aside to her, “this isn’t a royal kind of place.”
“I’m not a snob, Chase.”
He sobered. “That wasn’t an insult. I was just teasing.”
Yes, her sister and brothers teased her, but no one else did. She wasn’t used to it.
There were a few stools open at the counter, but Chase led her to a booth in the back, and she was glad of that. He was definitely aware of her need for anonymity.
The waitress arrived immediately and Chase said, “Two coffees and lots of cream for her.”
When the waitress moved away, he asked, “You still take it that way?”
“I do. But, you know, Chase, I’m not used to a sterling carafe to pour it from. When I go to developing countries to help with orphanages, sometimes I physically help to build them. My life isn’t all silver spoons and Big Ben.”
After a long, studying look, he nodded. “Noted. I won’t take the tabloid stories about you seriously anymore.”
“I’m surprised you read them.”
“Only when you’re on the cover.”
So he’d been curious about her and what was going on in her life? She was curious about him. “So, tell me what you’ve been doing for the past ten years. In Scotland, you explained you’d never work for your dad because he was manipulative and hard, and he had to control everything.”
“Yes, I told you that. After Scotland, I joined a construction