Best Laid Plans (26 page)

A second bite of sandwich went down
in one throat-scratching lump. "Doll . . . dollars?"

"Yeah! Whadya think? You've got
a gold mine." A prodigious sigh came through the modular receiver.
"Amanda, haven't I been tellin' ya' for the past three years just how well
you were doin'? Maybe now you'll listen."

"I...I just like to be cautious.
Fashion is such a risky, competitive business. Clothes are a necessity, but
fashion, fashion's a luxury, and that's what I sell, Art, luxury, fantasy,
dreams."

"Apparently there's still a lot
of people who can buy 'em. So enjoy. Let the Texans spend their oil dollars on
your nice clothes." Art's voice underwent a change as his bantering was
replaced by tough words.

"Look, I think you can haggle
down that monthly rental. At least give it a try, and don't go for more than
one percent of the gross sales over seventy-five grand per month. Lucas told me
what an ace act that mall is.

"Now about the initial
financin'. I contacted Roger Mayberry, who handled your first loan. He's moved
up to vice president, he pulled your account, was duly impressed and would like
nothin' better than to have Dallas dollars flowin' in to the New Orleans
Savin's and Loan."

Amanda coughed, took a mouthful of
milk and a deep breath. "Does. . . does this mean I'm . . . I'm two
million dollars richer?"

"It certainly does."

"Thank you, Arthur."

"Don't worry. I charge double
for handlin' the books on two stores."

***

"What the hell do you mean, 'It
was all too easy'? Honestly, Amanda, sometimes I could cheerfully throttle
you." Lucas looked over the top of the menu. His frown was directed both
at his companion and the fact that the food list would need translating.
"What the hell is
Pieds de pore St. Memehould?
"

"Grilled pig's feet. And can I
help it if suddenly I'm insecure?"

"You've never had an insecure
day in your entire life. You are a stubborn pioneer. I'm surprised that you're
being so wishy-washy about this.
Le gigot qui pleure
?"

"Weeping leg of lamb. I'm not
prevaricating, I'm trying to look at all the angles. Why don't you try the
steak
au poivre flambe a la crème
- that's flamed pepper steak with cream."

"That sounds fine." With a
sigh of relief, Lucas tabled the blackboard menu. "What are you
having?"

"
Coquilles St. Jacques
.
I'm homesick." That was a lie. She wasn't homesick. In fact, she had to
keep reminding herself she wasn't home!

Amanda concentrated her attention on Lucas,
watching the myriad facial expressions as he studied the small, red
leather-bound wine booklet. He had come home singing, swept her off her feet
and whirled her around until they both fell onto the sofa.

"Well, baby, looks like you're
goin' to become a Texan." Lucas had laughed, nuzzling her neck with his
bristly moustache. "I think I'm more excited than you are. I can't tell
you how glad I am that you'll be staying."

How long could she keep staying with
Lucas? She'd have to find a place of her own. She had mixed emotions about
that, too. When she had first thought about leaving Lucas, it meant she would
be going back to New Orleans. Now leaving would be moving to a furnished
apartment or a sublet. She had grown accustomed to the natural wonders of ranch
life.

Of course, she rationalized, having
her own place equaled more freedom. She could entertain Wade, see if their
relationship was going to continue, mature, blossom. She could also entertain
Lucas the way she entertained other dates but on a slightly more glamorous,
romantic note. No more T-shirts and denims, hot dogs and beer. That scarlet
halter-necked silk dress she had brought, had yet to be worn, and she loved
using scented candles for a centerpiece instead of flowers.

"How about
Tavel
?"
Lucas returned the wine list to the decorative metal holder that held the salt
and pepper. "A
rosé
should serve both our dinners." When he
didn't get a reply, he picked up the decorative amber candle, letting the soft
glow silhouette Amanda's face. "I thought I'd misplaced you."

"I was just thinking."

"That's only natural. You're
headed for an exciting new challenge." His hands gripped hers. "I am
just so proud of you, Mandy. What an incredible businesswoman you are! I'll
tell you honestly that Art floored me with those numbers today."

She gave a low, appreciative laugh.
"I'll be honest with you, Lucas. Art floored me too. I've been so close to
the business that I couldn't see its worth. When he said the bank was willing
to back me with a two million-dollar loan, I...I..."

"It seems you've been ignoring
your own worth." He lifted her hand. His lips pressed a warm kiss against
her palm, teeth nipping a love bite into the fleshy mound by her thumb.
"How long has it been since anyone's told you just how perfect you are?"

Amanda became lost in Lucas' eyes,
transfixed by the candle flames that leaped in the infinite pupils. His husky
baritone stirred hidden feelings beneath her calm resolve. His words of praise
fueled her spirit, made her feel able to conquer the world.

Lucas had always been able to make
her feel content, relaxed and renewed. He offered stability, security and
support. He allowed her to wallow in a modicum of self-pity and depression, and
then made her see the funny side of life. Amanda was so engrossed in studying
Lucas Crosse that she had to be reminded to eat her dinner.

The
Cafe Brioche
was a tiny,
hole-in-the-wall restaurant, but the cooking was reminiscent of the French
countryside, homey, flavorful and satisfying. Posters of Paris, the Follies and
the Louvre hung side by side with Impressionist prints of Monet, Renoir and
Degas. All were placed to cover cracks in the rough-hewn plaster walls.

The fruit tarts that Lucas ordered
for dessert were filled with fresh raspberries under a currant glaze and topped
with sweetened whipped cream. Amanda detected a hint of ground almonds in the
delicate pastry crust. The espresso was aromatic and rich, hardly the delicate
finale that the tiny little cups led one to believe.

"That was a lovely dinner,
Lucas." Amanda relaxed against the leather bucket seat of the Jaguar.
"That restaurant reminded me of that little cafe on the Boulevard
Saint-Germain by the School of Fine Arts."

"I know. I go there every so
often for lunch."

Turning her head, her eyes traced his
rugged profile, harshly defined by the low green lights of the dashboard.
"You're a meat-and-potatoes man. Don't tell me you can function all
afternoon on spinach crepes!"

"Their quiche weighs a
ton."

"Liar. That chef was
superb." Her hand tugged against his suit jacket. "Lucas . . ."

"Oh, all right, Mandy,"
came his sighed confession. "Sometimes I get a little homesick for Paris.
I let myself go back in time, back to that lovely week we spent together."
Lucas slowed the car, allowing his hand to leave the steering wheel to caress
her face. "I could never understand why until now."

Five virile fingers continued to
explore her features. Blind, calloused tips became sighted messengers to Lucas'
brain. They pressed along the subtle curve of her cheekbone, teased apart her
lips, nails clicking against teeth, teasing her tongue.

He briefly cupped the stubborn chin.
Before his fingers moved to flow down her throat until they encountered the
large flat buttons on her black cotton jacket-styled blouse. Lucas hesitated
for only a second, then proceeded to release the decorative barriers. With each
abandoned fastening, a door opened, allowing Lucas closer contact with the
warm, sweetly scented skin he was seeking.

Amanda caught her breath but said
nothing, mesmerized by the erotic stimulation his exploring fingers provided.
They traced the line of her lace-edged, satin-cupped bra, pulling at the small
rosebud that highlighted the valley between her breasts.

His fingers provoked gentle friction
against the velvety swells, moving down to tease the nipple that vainly tried
to push through its satin bonds. The car weaved, sending Amanda, who was not
using a seat belt, sliding against the door.

"I...I think you should keep
your mind on your driving, your hands on the wheel and your eyes back in your
sockets." Her voice was as shaky as her body.

"I just want you to know one
thing. I just had a complete physical. Always used a condom. Would never, ever
put you or any woman in danger. I saw your pack of birth control pills on the
dresser but I also know you and I'd bet you're equally healthy, so…"

"Lucas…enough." Amanda
retreated to a nearly fetal position curled against the locked door, seat belt
securely in place.

"Just needed to get it all out
there." Lucas made that the last caress, verbal and physical, for the
night.

***

"Now, look, Amanda," Wade
said, trying to tease her out of her growing impatience, "the rent is set.
There's no room for negotiations. I've already given you the one percent factor
and an eight-dollar-a-square-yard carpet allowance, plus paint and painters.
That's all you're going to get."

"I've talked to some of the
other merchants, and their rent is less."

"They've been here longer. Do
you want this place or not?" He decided on the hard sell. "I have others
who are interested."

Amanda turned around, eyes glinting
with laughter, pen trophied between her fingers. "Where's the dotted
line?"

"You are one tough lady."
Wade's voice was tinged with admiration. He produced the required papers, using
his leather portfolio for a writing surface. "I cleared my calendar for
this afternoon. I thought we could have a private celebration party at my
place, use the pool, the hot tub, relax, have a champagne lunch sent up. Maybe
dinner. Maybe breakfast."

She signed the last document with a
flourish. "Wade, that was sweet, but I only have time for a quick lunch. I
thought we could go to that German deli around the corner."

"Wait a minute. What's the
rush?" He found himself juggling multiple-copy forms, a pen and a suddenly
cumbersome slim attaché case. "Can't you put Lucas' decorating aside for
one day?" Wade sought to temper his anger.

Amanda neatly folded her copies of
the agreement and slid them into her taupe shoulder bag. "I'm not working
on Lucas' house today. I have appointments to select carpeting and paint, visit
a local fixtures warehouse, talk with a carpenter and then – "

"All right, all right." His
hands were held in surrender. "I guess I'll just have to be grateful to
share a bratwurst with you."

Much to Wade's disgust, the deli had
only counter space available. He draped his burgundy sport coat on the back of
the metal stool and wedged his rugged frame onto the black vinyl seat.
"Amanda," his deep voice whispered against her ear, "come on,
cancel your appointments. This is hardly a place for a celebration."

Her knuckles caressed his cheek,
chucking under his chin, hoping for a smile. "I can't. I have every hope
of getting the new store open in six weeks. By the way, you never gave me the
keys for the security doors."

He half stood up, fished into the
pocket of his tan slacks. "Here." Wade picked the white-tagged set
and handed them to her, receiving one of the plastic-covered menus in return.
He stared at Amanda's profile, wondering if she were playing some feminine game
with his emotions. She seemed to run hot and cold. At times he found it
exhilarating, embracing the challenge with masculine enjoyment.

Blue eyes tracked the steady rise and
fall of her full breasts beneath the sleeveless coral-toned crochet sweater,
traveling lower where snug black denims zippered over a flat stomach,
delineating the very essence of her femininity. The hand that held the menu
began to shake. He'd had great plans for today, plans that would make Amanda
realize just how much he cared for her, plans that would make Amanda totally
his.

Irritation formed in his throat. He
had never dealt with such a complex woman before. Amanda was very old-fashioned
when it came to physical involvement. He found that intriguing. But she was
definitely a new woman when it came to financial and business dealings. He
found that scintillating. The more facets Amanda exposed, the more fascinated
Wade became.

He gave the waitress an order for two
Reuben sandwiches, coleslaw and ice tea. "You know, Amanda, I would
imagine you're going to be staying in Dallas for quite a while with the new
store."

She stirred two sugars into her tea,
squeezing the lemon against the side of the glass with a long spoon.
"Hmmm…I hadn't really thought about me in all this." She gave a
self-conscious laugh.

"You should think about moving
into your own place, one closer to the shop. It would make your life a lot
easier."

"Wade, I don't really
know." Her finger pushed at the ice cubes that bobbed in the golden brown
liquid. "I'm not sure I want to buy something permanent. I may decide to
turn this new store over to a manager."