Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
L ucy couldn’t tear her eyes away from Joel’s piercing gray ones, and she couldn’t think of a single thing that would make her want to. They were like magnets locking into hers and holding. A connection that was decades old, since they were in elementary school and growing up around each other’s businesses.
Morgan Construction had been contracting out Barone & Sons for their interior cabinetry since Lucy was in kindergarten. Joel’s father, Walter, had been one of the first to give Luciano steady work after he immigrated to America, and the two men had grown their businesses alongside each other, their families intertwining.
Lucy grew up on invitations to the Morgan Christmas parties and Fourth of July barbeques. She and Joel had shared a keen interest in their fathers’ companies for as long as she could remember, so it wasn’t uncommon for them to meet at construction sites, wearing oversized hard hats and steel-toed boots, following their fathers around the perimeter as the older men discussed business. Little mini-mes, wide-eyed day dreamers .
Now Joel sat on his father’s throne, while she sat on the sidelines.
Joel was offering her a chance at her dream. Nerves exploded in her stomach like a million butterflies.
“Okay,” she breathed.
A small smile lifted Joel’s lips, and Lucy couldn’t help but mirror it. For a moment, they were thrown back in time, when things between them had been perfect.
Without breaking eye contact, Joel grazed his knuckles up her cheek, pushing her hair back as he went. The light touch felt both tantalizing and dangerous, awareness reaching every part of her body. Was her heart ready to play a game like this?
Something passed in Joel’s eyes as if he thought the same thing, and he dropped his hand. “So, do you have any guidelines?”
“Guidelines?” Lucy parroted, summoning 100 percent of her impulse control to not touch where his hand had just been.
“Yes, you know, like rules. Specifics. Dos and don’ts,” he clarified. “Or will we be behaving like any other engaged couple would.”
She resented how deeply a single movement of his could affect her entire being. “I wouldn’t know how engaged couples behave. I’ve never experienced it.”
His smile faltered. They’d gotten engaged and married in the span of an hour. What did either of them know about the process?
“But if you’re referring to us sharing a bed, that’s not going to happen. We don’t have to live together.”
“If memory serves me correctly, you loved every second you spent in my bed, Luciana. I made sure of it,” he rasped.
That’s it. Putting her game face on, she raised her index finger as she prepared to tick off the rules. “Guideline number one: No bed sharing, this isn’t a one bed romance, it’s a business plan. Two, we’ll have to make public appearances. That’s unavoidable, and some light PDA may be required, but no kissing on the mouth, groping, or anything that could lead to my panties being removed.”
Joel smirked. “What about my panties?”
“Shut up.” She smacked his knee as he chuckled, then pressed his lips together in mock silence.
Sometimes Joel Morgan was king of the construction and property development scene, and sometimes he was a child.
“Three,” she said, flicking up another finger, her ring finger, the most important. “We need to be careful. I want my family to buy this, but I don’t want them to be heartbroken when it ends. I need to buy myself enough time so my father doesn’t hand his legacy over to my clueless second cousin, who’ll run it into the ground.”
“Will it be enough?”
An excellent question, but she hoped the answer was yes. She dropped her hand and sighed. “If my father sees you by my side, he’ll feel reassured his company will be in good hands. He’ll forget about Nico, God willing. Then, I can use that momentum to get my father to see my work in a new light. That I’m just as capable of running Barone & Sons alone as I am running it with you.”
“What could possibly go wrong?” Joel quipped, his dimple making the briefest appearance as the side of his mouth quirked.
Lucy sighed. A lot could go wrong, the worst of which would be bad blood. Which meant rule number three was the most important. “My father loves you, and he considers your dad one of his closest friends and associates. Whatever happens between us can’t affect any of that. When we end this”—she motioned between the two of them— “arrangement, it must be amicable. Our breakup has to appear mutual and in both of our best interests. We part happily and with no baggage between us.”
“Historically, we haven’t been very good at that.”.
“No. We haven’t.” She lifted her chin. “We must do better this time. See it all the way through.”
“Since you brought it up,” Joel said, his jaw flexing as his expression grew serious. “Are we going to talk about our…baggage?”
Lucy swallowed. She’d thought about this. How long could they avoid talking about the things that caused their demise? The conversation was unavoidable. Long overdue, in fact. If they were ever going to move on with their lives, they’d have to talk about the past. But?—
“We will. Eventually. Just not right now.” But if not now, then when? How could she explain to him her years of silent avoiding? What words were there to describe the hole in her heart that she couldn’t face? “I’m not ready,” she said simply.
Joel nodded and went to a small bar by the window. He clutched the neck of a decanter holding an amber liquid, hesitated, then reached for a taller vessel with a clear liquid. “Do you want some water?” he asked as he poured a glass.
“No thanks. I’m okay.”
“I agree that we have to protect our families. My sister, if we can even convince her on any of this, will be…” He seemed to consider his next words carefully. “Very excited to see me engaged to anyone, but especially you, I think. She always liked you. ”
Lucy didn’t know Hope as well as she would’ve liked. Hope was two years younger and had hung around Vanessa more. It had been impossible not to adore Hope’s charm and relentless optimism. The Morgans held a special place in Lucy’s heart.
“We’ll convince her, and we won’t hurt her. Or anyone. We’ll be careful.”
Joel took a sip while he looked out the window, not saying anything more about their families and the fine line they’d have to walk. “What about location logistics?” His back was to her as he spoke. “You’re in San Francisco, and I mostly live here for now.”
“Right.” That thought hadn’t occurred to her until she’d stepped into his apartment and seen it set up like a cozy home. She’d had no idea about his life in Portland. “Well, I’m here for a week.”
He faced her with a raised eyebrow.
She shrugged. “I decided to take my holiday time around Mariana’s wedding. Tag on a little road trip up to Canada and visit Vanessa in Vancouver for another week. But I don’t have to go up for that long. I could extend my time here, so we can take advantage of my family being in town and do something together with everyone. If that works with your schedule.”
“I have meetings and during these early days of construction, I like to stay close to the site to make sure things get off to a good start, but otherwise I can make time where needed. I travel back to San Francisco at least twice a month. So it shouldn’t be a problem when—after your two weeks of vacation—you go home. We can continue making enough public appearances together.”
Funny how her plan was suddenly under his control. Just like Joel though, taking a plan and making it work, asking questions, thinking it through, and strategizing while she tended to let an idea lead her. For this reason, conversation had never been a problem between them. They could talk for hours, their different mindsets fueling each other’s creative energy. She missed that.
“I have one condition.” He’d returned to the couch and stood in front of her. No, towered over her, forcing her to bend her neck to look up at him.
She should have been annoyed by the power imbalance this position created, but instead, she took the moment to admire him. He was so tall, so perfectly built. She could make out the firm lines of his torso beneath the fitted cotton t-shirt. His forearm was flexed as he held his glass, and her height at sitting brought her in the direct line of sight with his crotch, the denim covering it no match for her memory. And he was still barefoot…from when he’d chased after her down the street.
Slowly lifting her gaze to meet his, she wondered what his condition would be and if she could meet it. “What is your condition?”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tomorrow night.” Joel moved to the door and opened it, signaling the end of their conversation.
Alright then, meeting adjourned. Rising on surprisingly unsteady legs, she joined him on the threshold of his door. “What if I don’t agree to…dinner?”
“You will.” The statement rolled off his lips with his signature confidence. It was infuriating when it wasn’t so damned impressive, the way this man’s sheer presence compelled you to obey him.
“I might not,” she affirmed, determined to maintain her fa?ade of control over the situation .
With the crook of his forefinger, he raised her chin until their eyes met and held. “You will.”
And then she found herself on the other side of Joel’s closed apartment door, alone in the hallway, wondering how she’d ended up at his mercy when this was her plan.