Page 13 of Just Trouble

He’s just a man.

But no matter how I rationalize it, there’s no ‘just’ about Luke. His name should be written in capitals. He should be twenty feet tall. He’s too bold, too imposing—too vital—to even occupy the same universe as we mere mortals, never mind sitting in my office, which has been entirely too small and too warm this morning.

Worse, he still has that superpower, that ability to make me not only aware of him but to feel so intensely that I lose track of everything but him. It’s like he jolts me to life, just by showing up.

And he’shere. Back in Empire, trying to hire me.His very presence is at odds with everything I know to be true. I stare at the chair for clients where he was just sitting. I can still see him clearly there in his jeans and his black leather jacket, his bikerboots and his tight T-shirt. (The black suits him. It makes his eyes look more blue.) I saw the end of a tattoo on the back of his wrist and want to know what it is. He didn’t have it before. He was wearing a silver ring on his right thumb with a Celtic knot on it and a silver bracelet on his left wrist.

It’s not crazy that he’s haunted my dreams since I returned to Empire. A harmless fantasy spurred by location, one that I never expected to be tested by an actual meeting. Maybe that was part of its appeal.

But today, he’s not only here, but challenging my expectation that gorgeous guys only care about what they want for themselves.

Could there be an ulterior motive behind his plan? If so, I can’t see it.

Luke is a Cavendish, whether Patrick likes it or not. One look at Luke and his connection to the patriarch is undeniable. Both coloring and confidence. Luke is his father’s son—in appearances, anyway.

In every other way, he’s defied that man since day one.

And given nothing, or close to it, he left town and made millions all on his own.

Which is admirable. Patrick Cavendish likes to manage everything and have it all his way. He has a will of iron and insists all his kids do as they’re told. They’re not kids anymore, and some of them have to hate that affluence comes with such a price.

But Luke, Luke was the only one to do anything about it.

And now, evidently, he wants to challenge Patrick again.

I can’t help thinking about that one forged signature, the one that made all hell break loose in town. It was audacious, the kind of challenge that only a teenage boy would make, although really, other than Patrick’s pride, not much had been hurt.

It certainly gave everyone something to talk about.

I take a deep breath, scan the single page proposal to buy five properties from Cavendish Enterprises again. It’s an interesting idea, in a way. Out of the box. So unexpected that it just might work. I have to like that the other board members are agreeable—if, indeed, they are.

A bit late, I realize I have no way of contacting Luke. No phone number. No idea where he’s staying. No real conviction that heisstaying. (He said he was leaving, just not when.) I take a deep breath, telling myself that he’ll be back when he chooses and to just accept that reality.

I reallyreallyhope that none of these signatures are forged, but I know better than to believe they’re genuine before I verify them.

I call Jake first.

The oldest of Patrick’s legitimate sons is a finance guy in Toronto, making buckets of money. I always assumed that Jake was interested in having all the goodies himself, that maybe he hadn’t been that pleased to surrender his status of only child at the ripe age of two, so I’m curious about his agreement to Luke’s scheme. I don’t remember them getting along very well.

Jake answers on the first ring, crisp and efficient. Maybe impatient at the interruption. He listens, though, without interrupting me.

“I appreciate your due diligence, Ms. Bradshaw,” he says. “And I certainly understand your reservations, but this is perfectly legitimate. Luke came to see me last week to present his proposal and I agreed.”

“Why?”

He sighs. “I’ve been bugging Dad for years to divest of some of these bits and ends of property. He and Cavendish Enterprises would be better served having that asset in cash, instead of tied up in properties that leech money.”

“Insurance,” I guess.

“Property taxes. Maintenance, such as he does. Legal fees if there are ever any tenants. It’s a lot of trouble and completely unnecessary.”

“I see.”

“And with Cavendish Enterprises rapidly expanding, it would be prudent to have more cash in reserve. Things happen unexpectedly.” I nod and he clears his throat. “I trust that detail will go no further.”

“Of course not. We have experienced some uncertain times of late.”

“Exactly.”

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