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The Playboy Takes a Wife
Crystal Green
From billionaire bachelor…to dedicated daddy? Lucas Chandler stunned New York society when the playboy announced his sudden marriage to the beautiful and mysterious child-care worker Alicia Sanchez – and his newly acquired title of daddy to their adopted little boy.Some said the marriage only occurred because Papa Chandler had ordered Lucas to settle down responsibly – or else lose his stake in the family fortune. Yet when the seemingly happy couple went about town it was easy to see that love was blooming.Had the handsome prince found the perfect Cinderella?


To Lucas, Alicia seemed to be the centre of everything.
He thrust the rogue notion away. The Chandler Organisation was the axis that held his world together. Alicia was business.
Just business.
Don’t touch her, his callous side said. Don’t get closer than you have to in order to make this work.
But he couldn’t help himself. He bent down, cupped the back of her neck. “What can I do to make you more at home?”
His heart lurched when he saw all the questions in her beautiful golden eyes. What am I doing here? How do I handle being your wife? But he couldn’t allow things to implode now. Not when he’d already come so far.
He just had to win her over again, right? That’s all there was to it.
CRYSTAL GREEN
lives near Las Vegas, Nevada, where she writes for Mills & Boon
Cherish and Blaze
. She loves to read, over-analyse movies, do yoga and write about her travels and obsessions on her website www.crystal-green.com. There you can read about her trips on Route 66 as well as visits to Japan and Italy.
She’d love to hear from her readers by e-mail through the Contact Crystal feature on her web page!

The Playboy Takes a Wife
Crystal Green


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Mary Leo and Cheryl Howe:
the best two pals a workaholic could ever have.
Chapter One
The minute Lucas Chandler stepped out of his limousine and onto the hard-packed earth of Rosarito, Mexico, he was swarmed.
Flashbulbs assaulted him, and so did the questions—most of them encouraged by an introduction to this press gathering from David, his half brother and the CEO of The Chandler Organization, otherwise known as TCO.
“How much money did you donate altogether to get Refugio Salvo running, Mr. Chandler?”
Flash.
“Why the sudden interest in an orphanage, Mr. Chandler?”
Flash.
“Can you comment on what happened in Rome with Cecilia DuPont and the police, Mr. Chandler?”
Yeah, there it was—the kind of query into Lucas’s party-hearty lifestyle David had been attempting to circumvent.
Lucas forced a smile for the next photo, already sick of today’s charade. What he wanted to do was get inside the orphanage and leave the cameras in the dust. And, no doubt about it, there was plenty of that covering the dilapidated buildings around them.
But one glance at stone-faced David told him that this was only the beginning of Lucas’s new life: the turning over of a fresh public-relations leaf.
Why the hell had he agreed to this again?
Oh, yeah. To be a decent person. And then there was also the small matter of saving TCO.
Slipping into his most comfortable disguise—the charming act—Lucas shot his brother a brief glance, then dived in to answer questions. David, for his part, stood back, hands folded behind him, as cool and smooth as the Italian designer suit he was wearing.
Lucas ignored the confinement of his own suave wardrobe, all but boiling under the many layers of material. It was warm for December down here.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” Strategically he flashed his dimples, making the lone female reporter light up with a blush. “Thanks for being here. And, when I tell you that I won’t be divulging dollar amounts, I’m sure you’ll understand. Suffice it to say, that we gave a lot to the Angeles Foundation here in Mexico to buy the land, construct the orphanage and supply them with everything they’d need to keep the children in safe comfort. You can be assured that Refugio Salvo will be well taken care of in the future, too. There’re also plans for more sites farther south, but that’s still on the drawing board.”
One of the male journalists raised his hand. “Rumor is that you’ll be cliff diving in Acapulco after you visit the orphanage. You gonna take some orphans with you, or what?”
Ah, the Funny Guy. There was one in every crowd and one in every backside.
As Lucas reined in his temper, most of the other reporters lowered their cameras and notebooks, laughing. Even David, whom Lucas believed was made mostly of granite, smiled. But the gesture was more rueful than amused.
The female journalist answered for him. “That’s great, Denham. Why don’t you give Mr. Chandler a little credit, huh? He’s got enough sense to keep the kids away from all that ‘daredevil playboy’ stuff.” She glanced at Lucas hopefully.
Did they think he was some out-of-control idiot? Obviously. Maybe it was good that he’d promised David that he would lay off all his notorious thrill-seeking for a while.
Still, even the female reporter—Jo, that was her name—didn’t look as though she truly believed he could behave himself.
“Thank you, Jo,” he said, knowing he could use her as an ally. She was from one of TCO’s media outlets, a newspaper that consistently tried to balance out the tabloids and the other entertainment sources that covered Lucas’s colorful adventures.
At the reporter’s modest shrug, Lucas turned to the others. “This is a time to find some serious answers for the troubles these orphaned boys are having. That’s why I’m here—to check up on the progress and make plans for even more.”
It wasn’t the entire truth. He was also trying to show off the “new and improved” Lucas Chandler. TCO required it and so did—
Lucas tensed. Don’t think about the old man, he told himself. You’re doing this for business and businessonly.
Riding a crest of deep-seated frustration, he added, “I’m here to provide aid for these kids who might otherwise end up on the street without any education or vocational skills.”
Censured, the reporters subjected Lucas to more pictures, and he tolerated it like the man his family had always expected him to be. The man he really wasn’t.
Flash. Pop. Each burst of illumination needled into him.
Finally, a pleased David made his way over, putting a hand near his mouth so the reporters couldn’t see what he was privately saying to his brother.
“Good start. Just so you know, they’re running late in the orphanage because of a greeting the children have put together for you. They’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”
Lucas presented the journalists with his back. “In twenty minutes, I’ll need five shots of tequila.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some nuns wearing wimples and stark long skirts with white blouses. They disappeared behind a stucco wall of the orphanage.
Disappear, Lucas thought. What he’d give to be able to take a breather behind that wall, too.
David cleared his throat to regain Lucas’s attention. When he had it, he fixed his ice-blue eyes on him. Funny how a twenty-eight-year-old genius could put a man who was three years older in his place with just a condescending reminder.
“Don’t tell me,” Lucas said, “that I should be used to this kind of attention. I can handle the paparazzi, but this is different. This is business.”
“Yes, I know it’s not your thing, but we agreed.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Agreement, sha-mee-ment.
“Mr. Chandler?” called an impatient reporter.
Something snapped in Lucas. No more questions, dammit. No more apologies for his recently abandoned lifestyle or justifications for “the playboy’s trip to the orphanage.”
“You take over,” he muttered to David while walking away.
“Luke—”
“Buddy, you’re the brains of this outfit, so dazzle the crowd with ’em.” Lucas winked, just to convince David—and himself—that he had his position as the “face” of TCO under control, that he was still the pretty boy who fetched publicity while David actually ran the place.
But it was about good publicity this time, Lucas thought.
Too much of his PR had been negative. Especially lately, with all those nonfamily-friendly wild-romance-in-the-streets-of-Rome scenarios he’d been enjoying with Cecilia DuPont, this month’s starlet. Impulsive scenarios that shed a red light on TCO.
As he left the media circus and headed toward the spot where the nuns had disappeared, he heard David assuming control of the press. Good man. He knew how much of this crap Lucas could handle before blowing.
Shortly after arriving at the wall, he ducked behind it, finding a cast-iron gate. In back of that, there was a flagstone path strewn with vivid pink flowers. A fountain burbled in the near distance. Sure sounded peaceful to him.
Opening the gate, he slid behind it before he could be spotted by anyone, then walked over the path toward the running water.
The fountain was in a side courtyard where red bricks and iron benches hinted at a mellowness Lucas had been craving. Like a collapsing wall, he crumbled onto one of those benches, loosening his tie and rolling his head around to work the cricks out of his neck.
Now this was more like it. No damned cameras, no pressure. Just for a second—
A soft giggle hit the fragrant air.
He cocked an eyebrow and glanced around at the thick foliage surrounding the courtyard.
“Peekaboos,” said a child’s voice from one of the bushes.
An orphan? Lucas couldn’t help grinning. Hell, as long as the kid didn’t have a lens aimed at him, he could deal.
A devilish titter followed. It reminded Lucas of how he used to laugh when he was younger. Everything had been a joke to be told, a riddle to be solved, a game to be played. He still sort of subscribed to that theory, even if it got him into trouble more often than not.
Suddenly a woman’s voice came from behind the bushes. “Gabriel? Dónde está?”
The foliage rattled as Lucas spotted a few strands of black hair spiking out from the leaves.
Two nuns scuttled into the courtyard. They chattered in Spanish, seemingly panicked.
“Gabriel!”
They stopped as they saw Lucas rising to a stand, hands in his pants pockets. He merely grinned and shrugged, hating to give the kid’s position away.
One exasperated nun addressed him in English. “A guest? You are to come in the front door, sir! Not the back.”
Thrilled that she hadn’t recognized him, Lucas eased her a grin. “Sorry.”
The nun raised a finger to say more, then stopped, reconsidered and sent him her own sheepish smile. “It is okay, sir.”
It worked every time, Lucas thought. The Dimples.
Meanwhile, the other nun—a woman with chubby cheeks and a lively gaze—had caught sight of the little boy’s hair. She parted the bushes, only to jump back when a golden-skinned child with wide brown eyes exploded out of the leaves, squealing. His hair splayed away from his head, wild and free, just as playfully ornery as Lucas suspected the rest of him was.
Much to the nuns’ horror, Gabriel climbed into the fountain and proceeded to splash around, sending waves of water at them while they tried to approach. The boy’s defense worked wonderfully, because it seemed that the nuns thought they would melt if they got water on their clothing.
Finally he took pity on the ladies. They were, after all, of good quality, even if they didn’t appreciate the fine art of child’s play.
Approaching Gabriel from the back, Lucas scooped him up, putting a stop to all the shenanigans. Water dripped from the child’s clothes, but Lucas didn’t mind. His suit would dry.
“Hey, little guy,” he said, “time to stop being a squirrel.”
The child looked up at him, and Lucas blinked back. In those dark eyes he saw the same troublemaking, misunderstood expression that stared back at him from the mirror each morning, the glint of rebellion in a confused gaze.
Another female voice rang through the air. “Gabriel?”
“Now she comes,” the first nun said, checking her skirt for water damage.
The chubby-cheeked nun merely caught her breath and flapped a hand in front of her face.
Gabriel squirmed, but Lucas wasn’t dumb. He kept a hold of him, spinning him around to stand on one of the benches.
The boy held up his hands and laughed. “Mucho gusto!” He had mile-long eyelashes, chubby, round, smudged cheeks and a secondhand shirt splashed with water and old dirt.
A tweak of sympathy—that’s what it was—forced Lucas to reach out and ruffle the kid’s hair. Cute bugger.
“Gabriel,” said the more exasperated nun, “please speak your English. And you are soaking and dirty. How will you be ready for the show?”
The boy stubbornly shook his head, turning to Lucas. “No show,” he said, repeating the nun’s word.
English. Suddenly Lucas remembered David’s preparatory briefing: part of the orphanage’s educational program included ESOL—English for Speakers of Other Languages.
A sound investment of the company’s money, David had said, because it would allow bilingual children more opportunity and make TCO heroic.
Lucas liked the sound of that. It was a solid deal, even if a boy as young as Gabriel might not have learned that much since Refugio Salvo had only been running for about nine months.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of that third woman. She was out of breath, her head bare, black hair curled in disarray down to her shoulders. Her light brown skin was flushed, her dark gold eyes wide.
She dressed like a nun but…no wimple. Maybe she was one of those novices or whatever they called them.
As they locked gazes, she held a hand to her chest, as if surprised by something.
Lucas’s blood zinged and swerved through his veins. Instinctively, he took things up a notch and offered what the papers called “the smile to end all smiles,” the ultimate way to charm any woman who caught his fancy.
Even a wannabe nun? he wondered. Say it ain’t so.
Her stark clothing couldn’t conceal the lush curves of her body. Around her wrist a charm-laden bracelet gleamed. Maybe this order wasn’t traditional, choosing to forgo dressing in regular habits and accessories.
At any rate, Lucas thought, she’s off-limits. David, Dad and the board of directors would go ballistic if you outdid yourself and big-bad-wolfed a future nun, of all people.
In welcome, she broke into her own smile, blushing while she allowed her hand to fall to her side as she gathered her composure. The color of her cheeks brought even more animation to her delicate, innocent features: a gently tipped nose, full pink lips and dark angel-wing lashes.
“I see you’ve met Gabe,” she said breathlessly. Her English was very good, with barely the trace of an accent.
The cranky nun interjected. “Lord, help the man now.”
“Sister Maria-Rosa…” said the chubby-cheeked one. Then she turned to the newcomer. “We were all playing ‘Splash the Authority Figure,’ and Gabriel was the winner.”
The woman nodded. “It seems you put up a good contest, Sister Elisabeth.”
“I always do.” The nun looked like some kind of cherub as she rolled her eyes in resignation.
The new woman walked toward Gabriel. The boy was fairly hopping with excitement at her presence.
“You having fun with your friend?” she asked, frowning slightly at the boy’s drenched clothing.
Gabriel reached out for a hug. The woman freely gave it to him, not seeming to mind that she would be dampened, too. When she pulled away, Lucas tried to keep his eyes off a wet blouse that was now hinting at the lines of a simple slip underneath.
Future nun, nun, nun, he told himself.
After she helped Gabriel down from the bench, it took her only a few seconds to realize that she was less than fully covered and she awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest. Good thing, too, because Lucas had been dreading having to embarrass her by pointing it out. It’d been tough enough to keep his gaze averted.
“Gabriel,” the nun named Sister Maria-Rosa said, “we need to change your clothing now.” She sighed. “What are we going to do with you?”
The novice stepped forward, arms still protecting her front. “I can—”
“No, Alicia—” Sister Elisabeth said, gently taking Gabriel by the hand and leading him away “—You already have many responsibilities. Don’t worry about Gabriel.”
They hadn’t addressed her as “Sister,” but maybe that was typical for a wannabe.
The nuns nodded at this woman named Alicia—a four-syllable name as opposed to three, Lucas noted—as they left. The little boy turned around and waved back at them.
“Adiós, Miss Alicia. Bye-bye, man.”
Lucas waved, too, along with four-syllable Alicia.
“He’s really a good boy.” She looked at him, blushing an even deeper red, then glanced away. “Most of the time.”
Lucas didn’t know what to say, because if Gabriel was anything like him, as he suspected, she was dead wrong.
“But you were handling him very well,” she said, raising a brow and grinning.
Damn.
He laughed, just to set himself back to balance again, to send away the thrust of a taboo attraction. “But I don’t have to control him twenty-four hours a day.”
Her face fell, and he realized that maybe she’d been sizing him up for a possible adoption.
Right. Him. That was a funny one.
He shrugged off his coat and offered it to her. With a grateful nod, Alicia took it.
“You don’t mind?” she asked. “I don’t have an extra change of clothes here and—”
“I don’t mind a bit.” Well, yeah, actually, the hound in him did mind, but Lucas wasn’t about to admit to any carnal thoughts around someone bound for the church.
“Thank you.” She put it on, bringing an end to the best thing that had happened to Lucas all day.
She tilted her head, gauging him again. Then, as if he’d passed some kind of test, she stuck her hand out.
“I’m Alicia Sanchez and I’ll be your group’s guide and hostess. We’re so pleased to have you at Refugio Salvo, sir.”
As he took her hand in his for a greeting, his skin tingled, sizzled.
Attracted to an angel, he thought. It was definitely something new, even for him.
* * *
As the stranger’s hand enclosed hers, Alicia’s heart kicked at her chest. It’d been doing that since the first instant she’d seen him, and she still hadn’t recovered.
Unable to get enough of looking at him, she noted every detail: Fancy tie, shirt, shoes. Well groomed. His jacket smelled good, too, like spicy soap, clean and heady.
He was a lot taller, so much that she was forced to lift her chin to meet his gaze. The color of his eyes startled her—a deep violet, just like the flowers that had grown in the small garden of her abuelita’s house back in San Diego. His light brown hair was a little long and ruffled, carefree in the breeze. His body…
Alicia tried not to look, but she couldn’t help noticing that he was strong, wide-shouldered and muscled like an athlete.
His grip tightened, and she realized that she’d been staring, her skin goose-bumped and flushed from the inside out.
Quickly, she let go of him, gaze trained on the ground. She shoved the hand that had been holding his, into a jacket pocket, wishing it would stop blazing with heat.
Then, donning a civil expression, she distanced herself from the visitor. Right away she saw the glimmer in his eyes fade a little, as if he were second-guessing something. Then he also took a step backward.
“You’re with the billionaire?” she asked, making conversation. Easy enough, with his affable personality.
It was obvious that he was here with Lucas Chandler. She knew the reporters were out in front now, taking pictures and asking questions before they all came inside Refugio Salvo. But why wasn’t he with the rest of the crowd?
He gave her an odd glance, then sent her a high-wattage smile in answer. She just about pooled into herself right then and there. What was happening? Dizziness, flushed skin, a giddiness she couldn’t explain…
“I’m looking forward to meeting him,” she said, ignoring the blasts of heightened awareness shooting through her.
“Because he’s so handsome?” He was teasing.
“Well, that’s what the female cooks here say, among other things.”
Cocking an eyebrow, he sat on a bench, looking pretty entertained with her comment. “They say that, do they?”
“It’s not all that important. I’m not one for TV or tabloid nonsense, anyway. But still…” She blushed, laughing at her all-too-human curiosity. “I am wondering about him.”
Especially because he had money. Wait—that sounded wrong. It wasn’t that she wanted any of it. If Mr. Chandler were in another charitable mood, the orphanage itself would be much better off after another donation.
He was smiling at her again. Dimples. My, my.
They were such nice, deep dimples. Semitrucks could park in them.
Yet…was this man sort of flirting with her? Alicia wasn’t sure, but she should put a stop to it. Now. No, really, now. She wasn’t a nun, but she might as well have been with all the promises she’d made to herself. No sex before marriage—never again. As a volunteer who worked side by side with the women of Our Lady of the Lost Souls at the orphanage, she did her best to be a good role model for the children.
And then there was also a very personal need to remain chaste….
“So the nuns volunteer at the orphanage, too?” he added, interrupting her musings.
Press time. She put on her best PR voice. “Yes, the order teaches academics and sees to the boys’ spiritual needs. Regular workers—” like her “—run the facility and oversee the ranch work since each boy, whether he’s just old enough to start chores or mature enough to work with the horses, has scheduled responsibilities and training.”
“You’re all a very caring group of people.”
Why did he suddenly seem so…sad? Or did he look guilty? Alicia couldn’t be sure.
The splashing of the fountain became the only sound. She rushed to cover the tension, wanting everything to run smoothly.
“It’s our pleasure,” Alicia said. “We’re really happy to love and be around these children.”
Months ago, she had volunteered to work here, renting a small house off the profits from the impetuous sale of her deceased grandparents’ home. She had pleaded with the orphanage’s director to be the one who played hostess to the billionaire, to be the one who secured a bundle of money for their needs.
She had to succeed in her goal for the orphanage today, to do whatever she could to be a decent person and fight for their requirements. Had to. The more money she raised, the more she could forget about the stain on her soul left by her abuelo’s dying words.
“So you’ve met him?” she said to the visitor, testing the waters. “Lucas Chandler? Do you think he’s a kindhearted sort of guy?”
The man seemed taken aback, but then he fought a smile, clearly knowing something Alicia didn’t. “Kindhearted? I suppose that depends on when you catch him.”
“Oh.” Heaviness settled on her shoulders.
“What?”
He leaned forward, encouraging her. From just his smallest movement, Alicia’s pulse kicked, sending a swirl of scrambled yearning to her chest. But passion wasn’t on her daily schedule. Not when it was so important for her to wait for a respectable marriage; it was the only way to experience what came between a man and woman. Marriage made sex pure and right.
She drew the jacket closer around her body. “Truthfully? We were hoping that he’s one to part easily with his money.”
Well, that had come out wrong. Maybe she was just too flustered around this man; Lord knew she was more articulate than this. She’d meant to say that she hoped he would be generous to the children, that’s all.
And she could tell that she’d surprised him with her words—her greedy-sounding, awful words. Well done, muchacha, well done.
His shoulders had stiffened. She rushed to correct herself but was interrupted.
“Alicia!”
She turned around to find Guillermo Ramos, head of the orphanage, rushing toward her. His crown of salt-and-pepper hair fluttered with the speed of his gait and his slender mustache twitched. Someone was in a snit.
“It’s not quite time to start the greeting,” she said in English, not wanting to leave their visitor out of the loop. “The children should be ready in a few more minutes.” “No, we are clearly starting now.” Guillermo stopped suddenly, hand to heart. “Mr. Chandler, I am Guillermo Ramos. We have talked on the phone.”
Alicia glanced at the stranger, who had gotten to his feet, hand outstretched toward Guillermo.
Mr. Chandler?
Good heavens, she was crushing on the billionaire?
“Good to see you, Señor Ramos,” he said.
Gulp.
Alicia anxiously fiddled with the charm bracelet she always wore, but Guillermo was all smiles.
“I see Senorita Sanchez has been entertaining you during our delay—which I apologize for profusely,” he said.
“Our future Sister Alicia’s been doing an exceptional job.” The stranger—no, Lucas Chandler, the billionaire—turned to her. Now, with the title and money, he seemed…different. More imposing and definitely even more off-limits. “We were just small talking.”
Yes, she thought. Due to her ill-chosen words at the end of their conversation, she had obviously gotten smaller and smaller in his estimation.
And…future Sister Alicia? Who did he think she was?
“I am glad to hear it,” Guillermo said. “But you must know that Senorita Sanchez is not with Our Lady of the Lost Souls.” Here he laughed a little. “She is not even a Catholic, but we are fortunate that she is working in our company.”
At those words Lucas Chandler’s eyes lit up, changing him from an average visitor to everything the other orphanage employees had been whispering about.
Playboy. Ultimate bachelor. Devil in disguise.
“Excellent.” He leveled that lethal dimple-edged smile at Alicia once again. “That’s some excellent information to know.”
She swallowed hard, feeling as if he’d whipped the jacket right off her.
Exposing everything she’d been covering up.
Chapter Two
As the Chandler party returned from the horse stables on their grand tour of Refugio Salvo, Lucas kept his photo-op smile in place. The cameras caught it with their freeze-frames, trapping him in the flashes yet again.
Alicia was at the head of the group, leading them toward the main building, which had been sparsely decorated for the upcoming holidays. There they’d be having an informal meet and greet with the children, who had already welcomed Lucas into their home with a sweet rendition of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” before Alicia had guided them onward. They’d seen the state-of-the-art school building with its computer room, the mini gymnasium with basketball hoops and hardwood floors, the library stocked with the most recent and popular titles, the cozy quad-occupancy rooms in the cottages.
Money. It could work wonders.
Lucas stuck his fists in his pockets. Idly, he watched the way Alicia moved, her hands clasped behind her back, her hips swaying under the oversized jacket and full, dark skirt as she traveled the dirt path that led from the paddock to the main house. The mild air, scented with hay and sunlight, toyed with her black curls. When one strand of wild hair tickled her cheek, Lucas imagined smoothing it away, tucking it behind an ear and receiving one of her gorgeous smiles in return.
But she hadn’t been smiling so much during the tour. Not after she’d told him the real reason she was interested in Lucas Chandler.
We were hoping that he’s one to part easily with his money.
Join the club, honey, he thought.
He’d tried to forget how his chest had clenched when she’d said that. But why was he surprised? People liked him for what he could supply, whether it was cash, amusement or a good headline to laugh over in a tabloid.
That was all anyone had ever expected of him, so what was the big deal?
Hell, maybe he just wanted more from a woman who’d at first seemed a little different from the rest.
They arrived at the casa’s back door, where one of the older boys—a teen with slashing eyebrows, crooked teeth and long scraggly hair—greeted them. Camera flashes bathed the teen and Lucas as they shook hands.
Then, as everyone started entering the building, Alicia thanked them, inviting the crowd to eat and mingle.
The journalists wasted no time in attacking the spread: burritos, small tostadas, punch and cookies placed carefully on plates over the paper tablecloths. The boys stood nervously around the poinsettia-strewn room, plastic cups in hand, waiting to play host to their patron.
While going inside, David gave a laconic nod to Lucas. His brother was obviously happy about how today had gone. A flare of satisfaction caught Lucas in its spotlight and he glanced at the ground, hiding his reaction.
After the teen had entered, too, that left Lucas, who had stepped back outside to hold open the door for Alicia, the last of their group.
She hadn’t moved from her hostess spot. In fact, Lucas got the feeling that she’d been watching him the whole time. He could tell by the intelligent depth of her gaze, the tilt of her head that maybe she’d gleaned something about him that he wanted to hide. Something that most people never caught on to.
He shut the screen door, arming himself with the Dimples to throw her off the scent of what she might’ve seen: Lucas’s need to get this right, his fear of always being a joke.
“A job well done, Ms. Sanchez,” he said lightly.
Narrowing her eyes a little, she held his jaunty stare. “I’ve been waiting to apologize to you. For the entire tour, I kept wondering what you must think of me.”
“Don’t sweat it. You thought I was a regular guy, I thought you were going to be a nun….”
“I’m talking about my comments. Please don’t let my failure to say what I really meant reflect on the orphanage. We really are grateful for everything you’ve done. I hope you don’t believe we aren’t appreciative.”
Caught by her honesty—Lucas wasn’t really used to it from anyone except David—he leaned against the casa’s stucco, the texture scratchy against the fine weave of his shirt.
Before he could answer, a preteen bounded out of one of the cottages, his all-white clothing spotted by colors.
“Ay, Roberto,” Alicia said, stopping him. She laughed, glowing, as she straightened the boy’s wardrobe. “Did we interrupt your painting?”
Roberto nodded, shooting a glance to Lucas, who shrugged in confederacy with the boy. Being late was cool with him.
“You.” Alicia sent Roberto off with a soft, good-natured push. “Just don’t let Sister Maria-Rosa see you.”
After Roberto tore off, Lucas watched Alicia. She was still smiling in the wake of the boy’s presence.
How could he ever doubt this woman’s intentions? She seemed so openhearted, so guileless.
But…damn. It wasn’t as if Lucas had great insight into character. There was a lot of anecdotal evidence that could prove his lack of judgment.
“Well…” Alicia said, whisking her hands down over her skirt, removing the imaginary wrinkles. “I suppose we should be getting inside.”
Disappointment dive-bombed him. “Yeah—” he adjusted his tie “—I suppose we should.”
Neither of them moved.
Instead, they waited as the wind hushed around them, the sun sinking closer to the horizon.
Both of them laughed at the same time, a quiet, intimate admission that neither of them felt like going anywhere.
“I’ve had it with reporters,” Lucas said.
“I can tell.”
“Not that I don’t want to greet more of the kids. Don’t get me wrong.”
“Of course.”
His eyes met hers and, for a moment, everything around them stopped—the wind, the rattle of branches.
For the first time in his life, Lucas didn’t know what to say to a woman. But he didn’t really want to be talking, anyway. In this pocket of stolen time, he was content just to look at her, to see the gold in her eyes shift with thought and sunlight. How had she come to be here, wearing these frumpy clothes and hanging out with nuns?
As if reading his mind, she looked away and touched her bracelet, almost as if it gave her something to concentrate on.
“So what’s your story?” he asked softly. “What made you decide to volunteer for this kind of social work?”
Another strand of hair grazed her cheek, her lips. Lucas couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth, the lush promise of it.
“I’ve found,” she finally said, “that I’m good at working with young people.”
“I can see you enjoy them.”
The startling hue of his eyes seemed to press into her, digging for more information. She fidgeted, her skin too aware, too flushed with thoughts she shouldn’t be having.
The forbidden nature of them kicked her brain into high gear; all the impulsive reasons she’d moved from the only home she’d known in the States to come down to the resort area where her parents had met.
“When my grandparents passed away, I realized what I needed to do with my life,” she said, voice thick with emotion. She missed them so much, wanted them back so badly. “They raised me in San Diego, but, after they died, staying there didn’t appeal to me.” She swallowed, tacking on a harmless falsehood just to cover the reminder of why she was really in Mexico. “Not when I realized there was so much to be done down here.”
“Your grandparents raised you?”
Alicia flinched, crossed her arms over her chest. “My mom and dad…passed out of my life. A long time ago.”
Another adjustment to the truth.
Lucas Chandler stood away from the wall, so devastatingly handsome, so confusing to her. Couldn’t her body just ignore those dimples, that inviting gaze?
He ambled closer, a growing hunger in his eyes, his interest in her so obvious that it almost took her breath away.
Closer…mere inches away.
Inhaling his scent, she got dizzy. Her head filled with scenarios, hints of fantasies—
Skittish, she took a casual yet significant step away.
She didn’t want to offend him by assuming he was hitting on her, but she was trying to be a careful girl. Especially lately, after her view of life had been so blasted apart by what her grandfather had told her as he lay dying.
From a few feet away, she heard Lucas chuckle. When she chanced a look at him, she saw a vein in his neck pulsing.
Stop him from getting close again. “I think it’s time to go inside now. The children are waiting and—”
“We shouldn’t be standing out here by ourselves.” His grin wasn’t amused so much as wry. “I know. One photo with me and there goes your reputation. You’re obviously held in some esteem around here, and we don’t want to ruin that.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
But he was right. The last thing she needed was this man standing only a few tension-fraught feet away from her, his skin giving off heat and the smell of musk and soap. She’d been around enough to know his type; he could make a girl think that whatever trouble they could get into was right.
Back when she was sixteen, she’d learned this well. Swayed by an older crowd—one her grandparents didn’t know about—she’d given in to peer pressure on a summer night with a boy named Felipe.
And she’d liked it. So much. Too much.
Afterward, she’d been dogged by all the moral lessons she’d learned from church and her grandparents; she’d even wondered what was wrong with her that she’d enjoyed it so much.
Needing some kind of stabilizer, Alicia had made a vow to wait for intimacy again until marriage. Then she could be a good wife, and sex would be respectable with her husband.
She was no angel—not even close. But now, more than ever, she tried her best to be.
There was a cryptic flicker in Lucas’s eyes. It seemed to make him change his mind about being so close to her, because he grinned tightly and nodded while he turned away. Like the gentleman she’d seen all day, he held open the door for her to enter the building, his gaze suddenly a million light-years distant.
The sound of happy chatter greeted her, and she was drawn to it—charity, a cleansing of the soul.
But as she passed by Lucas Chandler, she met his gaze, seeing that it was anything but removed. Seeing that it was so filled with a lingering admiration for her that she couldn’t help picking up her pace and fleeing.
An hour later, most of the boys had retired to their rooms, signaling the end of the reception. The reporters had been ushered away by David long ago, when the food had become less than a novelty and they’d gotten itchy to take pictures again.
Thank God for their absence, because Lucas was done with business for today. Come to think of it, he’d actually lucked out by avoiding the press in his more private moments. He’d all but lost his head out there with Alicia, almost forgetting what a picture alone with him would’ve cost her.
He really hadn’t been thinking clearly, not with the way his body had been reacting to hers, growing more responsive with every step he’d taken toward her. And he was used to getting what he wanted from women too easily not to be miffed by her reluctance.
Still, he’d respected her refusal to turn their alone time into something more, had seen the warmth in her eyes when she’d talked about being with the kids. Lord knew Lucas didn’t hang out with many people who had ambitions beyond planning the next party or acquiring the next “big thing” that would make them a Donald Trump overnight. She was refreshing, so why change her into one of his social casualties?
Especially since he was supposed to be turning over that new leaf.
As David summoned the limo and took a phone call outside, the last of the orphans said goodbye to Lucas. Gabriel, the kid who’d been so friendly at the beginning of the day, had seemed oddly shy at the reception, adhering to Alicia—who’d kept her distance from across the room—the entire time.
But, now that the excitement had died down, the dervish Gabriel was back, zipping over to Lucas with the verve of a tightly packed hurricane. He was carrying the jacket Alicia had been wearing.
“Hi,” he said, giving the material to Lucas and shuffling from foot to foot.
Alicia followed him over, and Lucas perked up even more.
“He’s practicing English on you,” she said, acting as if he hadn’t invaded her personal bubble earlier.
Maybe her polite cheer would force Lucas to be a good boy around her.
“Well, then…” He hunkered down to eye level with Gabriel. “Hi, back to you, too.”
That was the boy’s cue. Gabriel started to rattle off a breathless description of all the food he’d eaten today, and Lucas listened attentively. Somewhere in back of him, an enterprising reporter clicked away with a camera. Obviously, at least one of them hadn’t gone home, after all.
Photo op. Lucas had stumbled into a nice one, hadn’t he?
It wasn’t until Gabriel stopped chatting and started watching him with those big dark eyes that Lucas realized his throat was stinging with an emotion he couldn’t identify.
What the hell?
Brushing it off, he chalked it up to seeing evidence of the good those English lessons had done.
He abruptly stood, averting his face, ignoring thoughts of all the numb days that had been linking his existence together.
His sight settled on his brother, who was lounging by the doorway, tucking his phone into a suit pocket, face pensive.
Keep it together, he told himself.
By the time Gabriel tugged on Lucas’s pants, Lucas had collected himself enough to turn around again.
The child stood there, dark eyes wide and playful. “Come on, come on. Hide-and-seeks.”
As the child jumped up and down and tried to lure Lucas out of the casa, a nun from across the room called to the boy.
“It’s time for chores, Gabriel. Say goodbye now.”
The child frowned, looking as if he didn’t comprehend why the fun had to end. Then, without warning, he turned to Alicia and fired a barrage of upset Spanish words that Lucas couldn’t translate. His tone was choked, his hands fisted in front of him as he punched the air.
Lucas’s chest tightened with concern, with empathy.
But when Alicia patiently reached out to smooth Gabriel’s spiky hair, just the way you would your own child, the boy paused, at first shaking his head and denying her. But as she spoke soothing words, Gabriel allowed her to get closer, closer.
Carefully, she drew him to her, continuing to murmur as she hugged him and smoothed a hand up and down his back.
Thank God, within a few seconds, Gabriel had stopped, his head resting on her shoulder, one hand fisting the material of her blouse.
In his eyes Lucas saw those reflections again, the painted shadows of his own heart buried beneath this kid’s chest. The need to find someone who could help him, too.
The words slipped out before Lucas could rein them in. “We’ll hide-and-seek next time, Gabe, huh?”
He didn’t know why he’d said it. Dammit, when would he ever be coming back here?
But then that beautiful smile lit over Alicia’s lips, and Lucas knew it wouldn’t take much more persuasion.
“See you soon, then, Mr. Chandler,” Alicia said, leading Gabriel away and acting calm enough to fool him into thinking that nothing dramatic had just happened with the kid. “Thank you for everything.”
Lucas nodded, unable to stop himself from appreciating the way her curvy hips swiveled under that shapeless skirt. She gave real nice form to it, that was for sure.
Before reaching the door, she sent him one last glance, and the power of it just about bowled him over. All she did was smile a little, and his world tipped.
What was it about her? In that smile it seemed as if she could read his mind, slip beneath his skin, whisper inside his head.
I know you’re hurting, he imagined the smile saying. And I understand.
After they’d left, Lucas finally took a breath.
Realizing that he’d been holding the same one for what seemed like hours.
David had already gone outside by the time Lucas had said his farewells to the orphanage director. The Brain was waiting for his brother near the limo, where they had a view of the property: the main building, the annexes and the cottages, the chapel, the stables.
Arms crossed casually over his chest, David assessed Lucas, eyes a cool blue. With his stoic/casual pose, he looked like a stone-carved cowboy.
“Guess who called?” David said.
Lucas knew the answer before being told. “What’s the damage from the old man this time? Or is he announcing another future stepmom who’s two years older than I am?”
Well practiced in this line of conversation—one that never went anywhere—David kept his silence. Instead, his body language said it all: the loose limbs that spoke of a man in control of his own destiny, the slight tensing of his jaw that hinted at tension between the brothers. David was a big fan of Lucas’s hands-off business approach; he didn’t mind running everything while Lucas flashed his smile to the world at large. It was Lucas’s majority holding in the corporation’s stocks—a contract-tight promise his father had made to his first wife that included always seeing that Lucas, the firstborn, would own the company—that got to the Brain.
“Just spill it,” Lucas said, tired of waiting.
“He wanted an update. Wanted to know if today’s events were enough to impress Tadmere and Company.”
Tadmere, the family-oriented American media empire they were trying to acquire. Owning them would revitalize TCO, as well as give them more of an avenue to compete with the print rags and news shows that made a living off stalking Lucas. But the current, very pious owners were balking at turning over “their baby” to a company supposedly led by a man of Lucas’s reputation. It was Tadmere—and that scandalous Rome trip—that had prompted this whole personal PR campaign to make him look like a “nice guy.”
“And what did you tell him?” he asked nonchalantly, as was his habit. His dad hated when he did that.
And Lucas thrived on it.
“I told him things went perfectly.” David glanced at his Rolex and stood away from the limo. “He was happy about that, Luke. Really happy.”
A splinter of euphoria stabbed at his chest, making him bleed a little. It happened every time the old man seemed to be coming around, ever since he’d survived the stroke. But, even now, Lucas wasn’t about to get too giddy; Ford Chandler would return to prehealth-scare form soon enough. Lucas wasn’t about to set himself up for a fall.
“I’m sure you can imagine the happy fireworks going off in me,” Lucas said.
David sighed and shook his head. “Come on. You and I both know that, this time, maybe Dad will come around to appreciating you. I, for one, am sick to death of the way things are. And don’t deny—” David held up a finger to silence Lucas just as he was about to protest “—that you are, too. Suck it up this time and don’t get all rebellious against the guy. He’s sticking out an olive branch, these days. Would you just take it?”
“And what would sucking it up entail, David?”
“Just doing more of what you did here today. That’s all. Did it hurt so much?”
In the back of his mind, he heard Gabriel speaking English to him, saw all the boys lined up by the food tables and smiling in an effort to impress him.
Him—the notorious Lucas the Lover.
Respect, he thought. How would it feel to finally have it?
But it was impossible to come clean with David at this point. After all, it’d been tough enough to admit to his brother that he’d gone overboard in Rome with Cecilia DuPont and that he needed to cut the shenanigans.
And it’d been awful to admit it to himself, too. Admit that, more than anything, he craved one kind damn word from a father who didn’t give out many of them.
In response to that, Lucas had made a career out of being apathetic about the business his dad had raised from the ground up with his heart and soul. TCO was the son Ford Chandler favored best, so why didn’t he expect resentment from Lucas?
Resentment. God, it wore him out. He was weary from fighting a father who’d seemed to age fifteen years in the last month. The last time Lucas had seen his dad—hell, it was the day the competing tabloids had come out with that picture of Cecilia dancing in all her naked glory in a fountain, with a champagne-swilling Lucas cheering her on—the man had looked almost done. Finito, as Lucas’s Italian buddies would’ve said.
His fed-up father had been in a hospital bed in the penthouse of one of his New York buildings, skin pale from the pains Lucas had brought on. That was the day Lucas had realized that he might not have much time to show his dad he could be an actual success—not the punchline of the family.
“I think we accomplished a lot here,” Lucas said. “I wouldn’t say no to doing more of it.”
There. Underplay it. Don’t let them know how much it would mean for you to be taken seriously.
A small grin lifted the corners of David’s mouth, and Lucas knew he’d said the right thing.
“Today was just the first step,” his brother said. “It’ll take more than a few charitable photo ops to erase that bad-boy image you’ve got going.”
The memory of his father’s exhausted sighs and the slump of his shoulders—disappointment—edged into Lucas. He could do more, all right.
Still, he didn’t want to seem too excited. He couldn’t go that far yet. “You have something in mind, Einstein?”
“I’ve had some ideas today.” David’s eyes went a bit dreamy, the pose of many genius brainstorms that had kept TCO afloat. “It’d be perfect if you could do something to put the world’s—and Tadmere’s—doubts to bed for good. What we need to do is make you a pillar of society.”
“We’ve had a good start.”
“It goes way beyond the orphanage. I’m talking about a life change. A total tabula rasa so no one remembers Rome or Paris or the many screwed-up headlines you’ve inspired.”
Lucas bristled, mostly because the words were coming from his younger sibling. Mostly because they were true.
“Mammoth task,” he muttered.
“Not really.”
David was watching something in the distance, so Lucas turned around.
Without warning, his heart pinged around his chest and jumped up to lodge in his throat. Alicia Sanchez was walking hand in hand with a work-clothing-garbed Gabriel to the stables, swinging arms and laughing together.
“You got along with her real well,” David said. “And you’re good with kids, especially that one.”
Slowly Lucas turned back around, shoulders stiff and wary, his blood racing.
David held up both hands. “Trust me on this—if you could even do one thing like convince the public that you’re capable of a stable relationship with a decent woman, Tadmere would be ours. It might take some time for them to see what a wonderful monogamous man you’ve become, but… What can I say? Love changes even the wildest of miscreants. Then maybe, in the future…kids.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” But even as he said it, a part of Lucas—the one that’d felt numb today, the one who’d cried out for a father’s respect—didn’t completely shut out the idea.
“Think of how the world would look at you,” David added. “A reformed rake. People love that.”
Monogamy. Respect. A relationship. Respect.
Respect, respect, respect.
That was the bottom line, the one prize that had eluded Lucas for so long that it seemed like a dream.
“She’s beautiful.” David again, damn him. “If you could be paired with a ‘nice’ woman like her…pure gold.”
“Yeah, and, if the public found out that this was just a relationship built on the need for good PR, I definitely would come off looking even worse than before.”
“Lucas—” David cocked a stoic eyebrow “—think of those Rome pictures with Cecilia. How could you possibly come off as more of a rake? Besides, we’ve got our publicity machines to cover for us.”
Embarrassed anew to have been caught nearly in flagrante delicto by the press, Lucas glanced over his shoulder. Alicia and Gabriel were disappearing behind the buildings.
But that wasn’t the only reason he couldn’t help looking.
Fantasy merged with reality just for one pulse-stopping moment: Alicia’s smooth cheek against his palm, her curly hair between his fingers, her lips against his…
But then the rebuttals rushed in, pounding against his skull. Good girl. Playboy. Right.
“Forget it,” Lucas said, his tone brooking no argument.
“Listen, celebrities do this kind of thing all the time for good ink when they want to polish themselves up. Can you imagine the great press, even from the sources we don’t own?”
And it’d be just a business decision, Lucas added. Nothing different from any of the other safe relationships—dead ends—that you’ve had with every woman up until this point.
As Gabriel scuttled into the open, laughing and trying to break free, Alicia emerged to catch him, hugging him to her. Lucas’s stomach somersaulted.
Why? Because… Well, hell, because he was having doubts that he even had the ability to be a one-woman guy. All the press’s snide opinions testified to that.
Right? That’s the only reason he was feeling so weird.
“It wouldn’t hurt to talk to her to test the waters and see how she might react to such an idea, anyway,” David’s voice said.
The words drifted over Lucas as he kept watching Alicia, the woman who intrigued him and, Gabriel, the child who he suspected was so much like him.
Something like a family, Lucas thought as an unfamiliar emotion filled up the emptiness behind his ribs. What if…
Lucas turned to his brother, ending the discussion with a lethal glare.
Yet that didn’t mean he wasn’t hearing David’s logic over and over in his own mind as they drove back to his five-star resort room, where he ended up pacing the floor most of the night.
Chapter Three
When Guillermo Ramos had contacted Alicia last night, requesting that she entertain Lucas Chandler at the orphanage for one more day, her belly had scrambled with excitement.
She told herself it was more because she was that much closer to securing additional money for the orphanage than anything else—like, say, seeing the billionaire again.
Ridiculous, she thought now as they rode horses over the sun-dappled property. He was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny. Plus, she had more important things than flirting to think about.
She snuck a look at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. The same wind-ruffled hair. The same piercing eyes.
He seemed at home, sitting expertly in the saddle in his faded jeans, the reins threaded through his hand. Even though Mr. Chandler had told her that he wanted another gander around the place in order to see how additional donations could be utilized, Alicia found herself tongue-tied right now, unable to “sell” her own ideas about what Refugio Salvo could use.
But she would get over it…just as soon as she could overcome this strange shyness enveloping her. Was it because there were no cameras and the lack of them made everything much quieter, more real? Less like she was putting on a show?
“Look west, Mr. Chandler.” She pointed in that direction as they halted their horses. It was an expanse of grassy land, much like what they were on now, but it was cut off by a barbed-wire fence with a sign that said No Trespassing in Spanish.
“Neighbor’s property?” he said, easily controlling his roan gelding, Ackbar, who was dancing around.
“Yes, and possibly more land for the foundation to purchase for the ranch.”
With one last glance at the land, he paused, then prodded Ackbar into motion again. She caught up to him, and they rode side by side. He seemed deep in thought, so she didn’t bother him unnecessarily. She didn’t feel the urgency to.
And that was interesting. Even though she hadn’t spent more than a few hours with him, there was a certain comfort level in place. It was almost as if she’d known him before and they’d slipped right back into a companionable flow upon his return. Alicia had never experienced anything like it. She was naturally good with people, sure, and that’s why Guillermo was using her as a hostess. Yet there was always that invisible shield with strangers—a force you didn’t see but a barrier that was definitely there, all the same.
But not with Lucas Chandler. No, there was a different, unspoken something hanging over them…a humid atmosphere she’d been trying to avoid thinking about.
The sounds of chirping birds and moaning saddle leather accompanied them as he took the lead. He seemed confident in where he wanted to go, so Alicia went with it, ready to correct their course if need be.
“Ms. Sanchez,” he said, his voice blending with the smooth, grass-laced air, “may I ask you a question? And, if you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.”
She straightened in her saddle, friendly but on alert. “Ask away.”
“I’m just wondering, Ms. Sanchez…or Alicia. May I call you that? Alicia?”
“Of course.”
He smiled to himself. “I love how everyone says it down here. A-lee-see-a. It’s like a song.”
She laughed. “Was that your big question?”
“No. I’m just thinking about yesterday, especially when I asked you about how you came to be a volunteer here. The orphanage doesn’t pay you? Sorry if that’s too personal—”
“Don’t worry. It’s a part of how Refugio Salvo works, and you’d want to know.” Pancho, her mount, nickered, and Alicia absently patted the horse’s neck. “The orphanage can afford salaries for most of the staff—administrators, cooks, groundskeepers. But the sisters consider their work here to be part of their calling, freely given. Just like I do.”
“You should be compensated.”
She flushed, thinking how a paycheck would definitely help in day-to-day living but would also take away some of the significance of what she was doing. Charity. With a salary, her intentions of giving without taking just didn’t seem to count as much.
“Not to seem ungrateful, Mr. Chandler, but—”
“The money’s coming whether you take it or not.”
Alicia didn’t glance at the man next to her, but she didn’t have to. She felt his gaze on her. Her skin heated, flaring to confusion.
What was driving him to stick around to see the details of what the ranch needed? Some of the orphanage staff whispered it had to do with all the cameras that had followed him yesterday, but Alicia didn’t want to believe that.
Maybe he was trying to make up for something he felt badly about, just as she was. Maybe he was attempting to find purpose, too. But there was one thing she could guarantee: his trip to Refugio Salvo hadn’t been designed to allow him to hide from the reality of a life left behind. That was her own cross to bear.
Her father…her mother…her shameful past.
Many times she’d even wondered if the piety she’d been raised with was forcing her to punish herself for how she’d been born. For her parents’ carnal crimes that her abuelo had told her about. There were so many times she thought that the circumstances of her birth made her less of a person….
Mr. Chandler had grown quiet in his own right as he gauged the land with narrowed eyes. He wore an expression that gave her pause—so serious, his brows drawn together, his lips tight.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I’m just now realizing how much can still be done.” A beat passed, then a mirthless grin settled on his mouth. “Now that the camera flashes have worn off, it’s a clearer view.”
“You’ve been a true supporter,” she repeated. But somehow she doubted it was getting through to him.
“I haven’t contributed half as much as you, and that’s humbling, Alicia.”
For a naked second, she thought she saw a chink in his armor. She’d detected it yesterday, too, but he’d closed it up so fast that it’d almost been subliminal.
“As long as we all do our part,” she said, “the children will flourish, Mr. Chandler.”
“Lucas. Just call me Lucas.”
They resumed their ride, neither of them speaking. He was back to that thinker’s pose, and she wondered what exactly was causing all the seriousness. He seemed to catch on to this, because before she could take her next breath, he sent a sudden, devilish grin to her, encouraging his mount to a trot.
What had that sudden change of mood been about?
Not to be outdone, Alicia urged Pancho ahead, laughing, then hunching over her horse’s neck and signaling him to a gallop.
Almost immediately he did the same, until they were neck and neck, flying over the grass.
A bubble of amusement expanded in Alicia’s chest, then popped. She urged Pancho on and soon she realized that Lucas was veering toward a massive oak tree, its bare branches spread like a canopy, a haven from the mild sun.
When they got closer, she saw that there was a picnic table covered with a red-and-white-checked cloth. Silver bowls and a vase of wildflowers dominated the china.
Flabbergasted, she dismounted, cooling Pancho down. Lucas followed her example, and she couldn’t help glancing at the spread with contained anticipation.
Laughing at her obvious impatience, he came and took Pancho’s reins, allowing her to sprint to the table to finally get a closer look.
When the horses had been taken care of, Lucas sauntered over, having given them freedom in the grass.
“A picnic?” she said, her heart just now returning to a semblance of normal thud, thud, thuds.
Then again, with every step he took closer, her pulse started picking up again.
“It’s snack time.” He went over to a silver bowl on top of a smaller table and washed his hands, drying them off with a fluffy towel. “Come and get cleaned up. I thought you might enjoy something flown in from Bella Sofia. It’s an Italian restaurant I like in San Diego. You enjoy Italian?”
“Who doesn’t?” Still stunned, she moved over to her own silver bowl, the rim delicately etched with flowered patterns. It was filled with water, a lemon wedge floating on the surface. After washing, she used that fluffy towel, sighing at the softness of it. She’d never felt a towel so lovely.
“I also had the restaurant cater the boys’ meals today,” Lucas said. “And the workers will get their fill. Got to share a good thing.”
Touched by his thoughtfulness, she came to the picnic table, where he helped her onto the bench just as if they were in a fancy restaurant and he was pulling out her chair.
What was really going on? Was he kind of flirting, just like yesterday? Or was this just an expression of appreciation for showing him around today? Or maybe he was hoping she’d brag about his kindness to reporters after he’d left?
All these questions she had. Couldn’t he just make a nice gesture without any cameras around and that was that?
She decided that he was treating her out of the goodness of his heart. Just seeing how much he’d enjoyed and been genuinely taken with Gabriel and the other children yesterday told her that his gestures came from a decent place.
Integrity, she thought. Even with Lucas’s reputation, she wanted to believe that he really did have it. In fact, ever since her abuelo had told her the truth about her father and mother—how Alicia was the product of a sleazy one-night stand, how they had both deserted her because neither of them had been responsible enough to even raise a child—she’d searched for it. The possibility of finding some in a person like Lucas Chandler made her want to grab on, allowing it to pull her out from all the layers of mortification she was buried under.
He was taking a bottle of wine out of a basket. “Comte Armand, a wonderful burgundy.”
“I don’t—”
“Drink?” Shooting her a teasing grin, he tugged another bottle out of the ice bucket, deserting the more expensive wine. “Or there’s always sparkling cider. I got it for variety.”
Touched, Alicia fingered the flower vase in the middle of the table. “You think of everything.”
“All your hard work deserves a treat.”
He poured for her, then him, then opened a silver-lined cooler—a heater, really—and presented her with a basket of breads. She took one with cheese melted over the top while he poured oil and vinegar onto a side plate.
The cheese, tinted with garlic and herbs, made her close her eyes in pure pleasure.
Too decadent for her…usually. But why shouldn’t she enjoy it while it lasted?
She opened her eyes to find him watching her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was taking as much happiness as she was out of her meal. Warmed by his interest, Alicia shivered.
He doled out the salad for her. “Want to know what surprised me yesterday, among other things?”
“I can’t even begin to guess.”
“That mojo you seem to have going with our friend Gabe. He got pretty upset at the end of the day, but you seemed to know just how to handle him.”
At Gabriel’s name, Alicia pepped up. “From the day he came to the orphanage I’ve worked extra hard to win him over. He’s come around, but you should’ve seen him before.”
“Even more hyper?” Lucas hadn’t said it unkindly at all. In fact, she suspected he had a tiny soft spot for Gabriel’s vivacious spark, just as she did.
“He is active.” She tossed her salad with a fork. “He always has been. But, at first he exhibited a mean streak, lashing out at the other children and the workers, throwing tantrums. He feels more comfortable now that he knows there are constant people in his life, thank goodness. And that’s exactly what he needed—security. We don’t know much about him except that he’d been abandoned by his parents so his trust is shaky.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, and she didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that he was disturbed by the boy’s background.
Welcome to life, she thought.
“You know,” she added, “yesterday was a good day for him, but he still has his moments. We’ve had a part-time counselor who’s seen him, so that helps, but in the long run he’ll need a special family to give him a lot of attention and love.”
A shot of panic seized her at the thought of him ever leaving. She’d become attached to the child and she knew it wasn’t smart, but it’d just happened. He was charming and ultralovable; that was a part of his mercurial personality, though. He was a challenge her heart couldn’t resist, because every time he needed reassurance or extra affection, she felt the responsibility to give it.
“I think,” Lucas said, “we all need special families.”
When he caught her understanding glance, he polished off his salad, not looking at her.
He seemed on the brink of saying something else, so she kept her tongue. A few seconds later, he laid down his fork, appearing so serious that she stopped eating.
“Have you ever thought—maybe one day when you’re ready, I mean—of adopting? That’s if you even want a family…”
He watched her intently.
“Yes.” She hadn’t even hesitated. If she could make sure a child like Gabriel grew up with people who adored him—people like her—she’d do it. Trouble was, everyone at Refugio Salvo thought the boy would be a tougher child to adopt out than most. He might always be passed over for the quieter ones and never even have the chance for a normal life out of the orphanage.
“I’d give anything to have a family again,” she added.
“Your grandparents and parents…you miss them a lot. That’s real obvious.”
A pang of loss hit her square in the chest. He had no idea how much she wanted a group of people to surround her with love.
She blurted out her next heartfelt words before she even realized she’d said them. “Truthfully, all I want is a family. I even have dreams of children, especially the ones who are already born and need parents.”
“That makes sense. I can see you and Gabriel together.”
She had to fight a lump in her throat before she could answer. “Me, too. I can imagine that very clearly. But first, before any children, there’s a husband….”
Silence emphasized the moan of wind through the branches as she concentrated on her food. Admitting her dreams out loud had made them all the more distant. For her, a family would also include a partner, because she believed in raising children the traditional two-parent way.
Too bad she couldn’t adopt a man who would love her and bring back her dignity, too.
Avoiding any further revelations, she glanced at Lucas, who was considering her with a scrutiny that dug into her.
“And how about you?” she asked, returning the conversation to lightness. “Would Lucas Chandler, the big tycoon, ever consider adopting?”
At her question, he became even more intense, leaning on the table, his posture deceptively casual. “Only under the right circumstances.”
Why did that sound as if he could mean so much more?
And why, Alicia asked herself with a growing mixture of trepidation and excitement, was she hoping he was back to flirting with her again?
Alicia took another bite of her salad instead of responding, but Lucas waited her out, using the opportunity to absorb her. She was wearing another prim, neat white blouse with short sleeves and crisp jeans to ride in.
The charms on her silver bracelet sang with her every move.
Anxiety throttled him again and he shifted on the bench. He still hadn’t come to any conclusions about David’s plan, but Lucas couldn’t help feeling out Alicia, anyway. Why not? His desire to gain stature was probably going to force him into some kind of other PR relationship, anyway—he might as well admit it. He wanted the respect badly…so badly he could taste it.
So he filed away the information about her really, really wanting a family. She was a good woman who would make a good mother. Extra PR points for that—
He cut off the thought, disgusted with himself for even musing about it.
When Alicia finished her salad, Lucas brought out the next course, fettuccine slathered with a creamy marinara and topped with honey ricotta. Heaven.
She must’ve thought so, too, because the first bite caused her to do a little wiggly dance in her seat. Damn, it was cute.
“Know something?” he said. “I’m pretty surprised you’re not giving me the hard sell about adopting one of the boys now, like a spokeswoman usually would. I get the feeling you’d normally never let this chance go with anyone else who’d visit the property.”
“It shouldn’t be a pressured decision, Mr…Lucas.” She smiled. “If adopting was in your heart, then you won’t need to be talked into making it happen.”
Ouch. But he recovered because he had to. “I think you just know when to let something lie.”
She took a sip of her sparkling cider, then slowly put it down. “My grandparents taught me how to do that. They were full of good advice and lessons to learn from.”
Lucas thought about his own family. He’d learned by example from them, too, except it was to do the opposite of whatever his dad did.
“We weren’t very well off,” she added, “but my grandparents scraped up enough money to give me a great home and an education. I realized from them what was important in life—the basics. And they showed me it was necessary to be thankful for every one of them.”
“College.” He was genuinely interested to hear more about her. “Where did you go?”
“Oh, just a community school. And it turned out that it wasn’t for me. So I decided to work as a receptionist and contribute to the household, just as I did when I worked waitressing jobs in high school until I knew what I wanted. But eventually my abuelo died.”
A shadow seemed to pass over her face as she returned to eating.
She hadn’t explained anything, really, had she?
“And how did you become the philanthropist you are today?” she asked, clearly changing the subject.
“Oh, you know…” He twirled some noodles onto his fork. “The usual rich-kid tales. The best schools, the best of everything. My mom divorced me and my dad when I was real young. She decided life as a socialite was too empty and she took off for parts unknown to take advantage of her anthropology degree, doing lots of fieldwork, from what I understand.”
“You don’t talk to her?”
“Occasionally.” When Lucas took a bite, the food was suddenly tasteless. “She attempts to make contact from each of her research locations but, more often than not, she’s in a village with no modern technology and bad cell-phone reception.”
“So you don’t know her very well.” Alicia’s soft gaze was sympathetic.
“Right. But that’s okay. I’ve had a lot of stepmoms to take her place. Four, by my last count.”
“Four? Are you close to any of them?”
“Nope. I did get a half brother out of the deal, though. Luckily, he’s the only other child my dad bothered to have. Unleashing two cynical Chandler boys into society is enough.”
“Cynical.” Alicia laughed. “You?”
She wasn’t being sarcastic. Not this straightforward woman who barely knew him. It was a nice change of pace for once.
“I’m afraid so. See, we were raised by a man who values cold, hard success above everything.”
Alicia tipped her glass to her mouth, the rim resting against her bottom lip. Lucas found himself leaning closer, envying the glass.
She finally took another sip, ending his reverie.
“So, am I to think that your father soured you on marriage?”
Her words were a punch to the gut.
He swallowed, nerves screaming. “In the past, I thought I might avoid getting hitched. I didn’t want to be a serial husband like my dad.”
“And that’s why you…” She gently swished around her glass, seeking words, the cider spinning around like a liquid golden web.
“I what?” He wanted to hear her say it.
She smiled sweetly and his heart flipped.
“That’s why you date all those women,” she said. “At least, that’s what they say.”
Yeah, all those women. The ones who didn’t have any interest in families at all. There was a cold comfort in that kind of emptiness. Security. And the more Lucas thought about David’s suggestion that he find an “appropriate” woman, the more he came to believe that it wouldn’t be much of a change from his previous relationships. He wouldn’t have to invest emotion. It was a business deal, pure and simple. A situation that would benefit everyone all around. His girlfriend could spend his money any way she wanted to, especially when it came to taking part in charity work that would generate positive ink in the press. And Lucas would be a better man—at least in the eyes of the world.
Putting down her glass, Alicia then propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her palms. She was just as beautiful as David had said, even more so. Her physical appearance whipped his overused libido into a frenzy, but that’s not what really tore Lucas up about her.
She had soul. A sincerity you had to travel far and wide to find. Something he’d never experienced.
“You want to know the truth?” he asked.
“What?”
Lucas pushed his plate away, appetite for food gone. So many other appetites stoked.
“I wouldn’t mind finding a wife at all. Someday.”
Her eyes had gotten a little wider, probably because his comment clashed with his reputation.
Before he knew it, he found himself laying the groundwork to take the next step in this plan—not that he was going to go further. Hell, no, he was still thinking about all the pros and cons. He wanted to measure the possibilities, that’s all.
Measure her to see if she’d be a fit….
“I know you’re doing your best to save the world in this small corner of the earth,” he said, pulse picking up speed, “but what if you had the chance to make changes on a large scale? How far would you go to get that opportunity?”
She was getting curious about where he was leading. He could tell from her puzzled smile.
“How big of an opportunity are we talking about?” she asked.
“Getting loads of money to spend as you see fit, on any cause that would speak to you.”
Her lips parted, her eyes going hazy, her head tilting.
He fought himself, feeling his inner playboy stir: The guy who loved fine champagne and loud music. The guy who loved a good, dirty, heart-stopping off-road race in expensive mechanical toys.
The guy who’d surprisingly been struck with respect for this woman’s apparent selflessness.
“I would do just about anything to get that kind of chance,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
Anything, he thought. Would she even sign on for a fake liaison with a billionaire? Somehow he doubted it. A person with such devotion to others would never hop into such a calculating situation and compromise herself like that.
So why was he even pursuing this subject?
The images overtook him again. A woman who would bring grace and charity to his name.

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