LITMIR.BIZ

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know what a smooth wall looks like. Jorge knows enough to handle any problem areas. There are a few but not much. I’ll take you on a tour. We’ll discuss what basic repair needs to be done. I should have done that already.” Except a part of him had needed to see how “the debutante” handled the tough, dirty stuff. To his surprise, she was handling it. Not with any finesse, but with determination.

      “Let’s go,” he said.

      He led her through the rooms, pointing out problem areas, the general plan for cleanup, repair and renovation and the big picture. “When we’re done, each woman will need her own private space but there needs to be plenty of flow and room for interaction. This is a house, but it will also be a community, hopefully a family. The space needs to reflect that.”

      Genevieve didn’t say much, but she listened. She nodded. “And I’ll be overseeing all of this.”

      Her voice sounded slightly faint.

      Lucas frowned. “I’ll work with you closely, but I have a business to run, other irons in the fire. This will largely be your project.” Except he would personally see to it that the deadline didn’t fall through. The deadline was that important.

      “All right. I see.” Genevieve gave a tight nod. They turned down a hallway, not speaking, their steps silent on the carpeting.

      The slosh of water sounded in a nearby room. “I don’t know. Ms. Patchett is very nice, but … not experienced,” Jorge was saying. “I hope she knows what she’s doing and doesn’t lead us into any mistakes. I don’t want to lose this job.”

      “She’s very pretty. Do you think she and Mr. McDowell …?” Thomas’s voice trailed off.

      “Idiot. No,” Jorge said. “I’ve worked with Mr. McDowell before. He doesn’t mix business and pleasure. Besides, she’s too … I don’t know … too innocent for him. Not his type.” He stopped. “We shouldn’t be talking like this. They might hear. We might get fired. And anyway, it’s wrong.”

      Genevieve had stopped in her tracks. She looked up at Lucas, embarrassment written across every feature. Suddenly, she grabbed his hand and pulled him silently back down the hall. Then, cheeks blazing, she took a deep breath. “How long do you think the repair and renovation of this place should take?” she asked loudly. Too loudly. Loud enough for the other men to hear. Clearly, she didn’t want Thomas and Jorge to know what she had overheard.

      “Everything has to be done in six weeks. After that, we invite the world in, invite the tenants, and I leave town. Can you handle that?” he asked, playing along.

      She took a deep, visible breath. “I can handle anything, Mr. McDowell.” Her voice shook slightly, but it came out loud enough to carry.

      They continued down the hall past the room where Thomas and Jorge were working. “I lied. I’d like to pretend that I know exactly what I’m doing, but I think it’s clear that I’m learning. But I’ll tell you this much, Lucas. Truthfully. Totally truthfully. I may not be able to handle everything yet, but I don’t intend to slack off or slow down or disappoint you if I can help it. I intend to do my best at this job.”

      A nicer man would have assured her that that was enough. He had never been a nice man. “I intend to see that you do,” he said. He hoped she would be able to produce the results that he needed. If everything worked out as planned, Genevieve would be his glowing gateway to the people he needed to reach.

      But, by the end of the day, she wasn’t glowing. Instead, she was wet, dirty and drooping. Strands of her bright hair had come loose from her tight ponytail and there was a scrape on her cheek. She looked as if she might drop to the ground at any minute.

      “I’ll take you home,” he said. “Congratulations. You survived your first day.” But he wondered whether she would be back for a second day or if she would choose to slink away, to decide that this was no life for a debutante.

      Still, when he pulled up to her apartment, the sight of her crumbling and dangerous neighborhood reminded him that she had left debutante status behind. And he wasn’t buying her declaration that she would never marry for money. Too long in a place like this and a woman—or a man—might do anything to get out. He knew about that kind of thing. Far too well, he thought with a grimace. Genevieve could get hurt. She shouldn’t be living here.

      The thought caught him by surprise. He never allowed his interactions with employees to get personal, but then this project was personal, the repayment of a long overdue debt. Finishing it would close a chapter in his life he never wanted to look back on again and tie up loose ends he couldn’t control. Then, he could concentrate on a future he could control, one with zero emotional risks. Just the way he liked things.

      “Thank you for the ride,” Genevieve said, reaching for the door, clearly uncomfortable. Probably not used to silent brooding bosses frowning at her.

      “You don’t … fit in a place like this,” he said, stopping her and further surprising and angering himself.

      To his amazement, she laughed, a light, bell-like sound. “I fit,” she said. “We’re all misfits here. I’m just not the norm.”

      Then she sprinted for her building, paying no attention to her surroundings, her purse flopping against her hip.

      Darn it! But then, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at her carelessness. A princess like her would have been used to leaving everything, including her security, to others.

      Growling, he flung open his door and got out. “Genevieve,” he said, his voice carrying.

      She turned, those big eyes open wide, startled.

      “Lock your door,” he said. “I don’t want to lose my project manager through carelessness,” he felt compelled to add.

      Genevieve blushed. She bit her lip. Was that a trace of resentment in her eyes? Intriguing. He hadn’t seen that before.

      “I have six locks,” she told him, lifting her chin a tiny bit. There was just a trace of haughtiness, of the miffed debutante. “I … You don’t really trust me, do you?”

      He hesitated. “I hired you.”

      She nodded. “Because I’m a Patchett.”

      He wasn’t going to deny it. Nor was he going to tell her he trusted her. He wasn’t sure whether he did. The truth was, he had a suspicion that hiring her had been a mistake, for reasons that had nothing to do with the project, reasons he didn’t even want to acknowledge. There was something about her that made him not trust himself. He had a terrible feeling that he knew what it was, too. It wasn’t good.

      But he had hired her. The only thing to do now was to muddle through this mess. Quickly. Soon enough Genevieve Patchett would just be another woman in the rearview mirror of his consciousness. He was a pro at leaving bad situations—and problematic women—behind. If Genevieve was more problematic than most … well, he wouldn’t let that happen. He’d tell her what she needed to know to do her job, oversee her progress from a distance and then he’d send her on her way with enough money to escape this place.

      And both of them would walk away happy. End of story.

      CHAPTER THREE

      GENEVIEVE LAY IN THE DARK, staring up at the ceiling but seeing instead the frown on Lucas’s gorgeous face. Carefully, she went over what had taken place during the day. And cringed.

      “You didn’t even know how to sweep a floor, how to wash a wall.” She groaned and placed her palms over her hot face. “The man must think that he’s hired an idiot. He’s probably cursing Teresa and me right now, probably already looking through his list of applicants for my replacement. I don’t have any of the skills necessary, nothing that he wanted.”

      Worse than that, she had an annoying habit of blushing every time she looked at the man. With just one wordless glance, he had pointed out that her wet blouse was plastered

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