Enchanted Heart (13 page)

Damn. Those were real? Lance's gaze dipped to her breasts, and he felt himself grow hard.

She touched the area at the corner of her eye and rubbed it slightly as if willing away wrinkles. If there was any blemish or imperfection there, Lance couldn't see it.

“I knew I'd need something to fall back on.”

“So you went to Brown.”

“So I went to Brown,” she said.

“Beauty and brains. Brown's not easy to get into.”

She bit her lip. “Yeah. Well. Anyway, I wanted to do something permanent, something that would help women who maybe didn't feel so beautiful. The silky lingerie I modeled came to mind. There's nothing like the right sensuous lingerie and the right bath oil to make anyone feel gorgeous.”

“I'll have to take your word on that.”

She smiled.

“A lot of my coworkers back then, they spent their money on vacations or the three C's.”

He lifted a brow.

“Clothes, cars and cocaine. But me, I hoarded every penny, knowing the gravy train wouldn't last forever. After I left the business and before I got bored, my sister and I came up with a business plan and we launched the store.”

“Boredom is a problem with you?”

“It can be. I need new thrills to keep life interesting.”

“Like one-night stands with strangers?”

Her breath caught, but she didn't hit him. “Yeah. Something like that.”

They stood at the railing for a while, neither saying anything.

Lance heard a lot of gaps in the story, but he didn't press her for details. “Your sister, is she the one I met?”

Viv tensed and her sharp gaze connected with his. “Where?”

“At the store. She said her name was Dakota. Tall, voluptuous. Eyes the color of burnt honey.”

She chuckled and relaxed against the rail again. “That's a good description of her. But no, Dakota isn't my sister. She works at the shop. She's also a catalog model. She does lingerie and plus-size work.”

“And Betty Boop?”

Viv's hearty laughter rang out. Several men paused and turned. Lance moved closer to her, establishing his territory, letting them know the beauty was off limits.

“That would be Leticia. And, no, she's not my sister either. Vicki doesn't work at Guilty Pleasures.”

For a while they just stood there listening to the surf, soaking in the warmth from the afternoon sun.

“The shows I loved the most were for lingerie,” Viv told him. “It's real. It's there. It's sexy and alluring and soft.”

Lance had to agree with her, but his mind was elsewhere, stuck on the sexy image of Viv in bed with another woman, both clad in frilly underwear.

“After we developed the business plan, I went looking for investors.”

He cleared his throat, trying to stay focused on the topic. “How many did you need?”

Viv smiled. He was immediately struck with the notion that her smile was the kind women bestowed on men who'd pleased them, enormously. It was the sort of smile Lance was used to seeing women send his way. That he wasn't responsible for Viv's right now pricked his ego. Some other man made her get that faraway, smoky look.

“Just one,” she said, that softly indulgent smile still tugging at her mouth. “His name was Ellison.”

A sugar daddy, Lance surmised. Her expression was the kind reserved for someone very special. And she'd already said she didn't have any qualms about taking gifts from men.

“He died two years ago.”

“And you weren't in the will?”

She glanced over at him. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged.

Her smile was a little sad this time. “No. I wasn't. I don't think his wife would have appreciated that very much.” She didn't elaborate. Lance was sure he didn't want to know the rest of the details. “Between my own money and his seed money for the start-up, Guilty Pleasures was open for business. I haven't looked back.”

“And now?”

“And now I want to expand. It's time to branch out.”

“So you're looking for a sugar daddy.”

The warmth in her voice disappeared. “No, Lance. I'm looking for an investor or investors who believe in and support my vision for Guilty Pleasures. Your family was already on my list—a list of twelve, by the way. You're the one who sought me out.”

He had to give it to her there. He'd spotted her in Providence at that reunion and fell into immediate lust. He'd made it a point to introduce himself to her, not realizing that she literally lived in his own backyard.

“I didn't mean to offend.”

“Well, you did.”

He liked her honesty, even when it stung like a jellyfish.

“You assumed and offended just like you did when you came to the conclusion I'd fall into bed with you again.”

“So it was that terrible?”

She looked at him, shook her head and walked away.

“What?” Lance was clearly dumbfounded. “What, Viv? What did I say?”

“This isn't going to work,” she said. “Thank you for your interest in Guilty Pleasures, but I don't think . . .”

Her words were cut off when he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.

“Lance.”

His mouth closed over hers and whatever she was about to say was lost under the onslaught.

He was a masterful kisser, and Viv felt herself succumbing. She fought the urge, fought the sensations guaranteed to be her downfall. She pushed at his chest even though she really wanted to draw him closer.

“Stop it.”

“You know you want me as much . . .
Oomph.”

He stumbled back, rubbing his side where she'd leveled a solid hook.

“The next time you try something like that, I'll use my knee and you won't be standing up and you'll be talking tenor.”

Lance backed off even farther, his arms held up in front of him. “I got the message.”

“Good. Now get this one,” she said. “I don't want to do business with you. We had sex. That doesn't entitle you to liberties, no matter what you may be used to. Yes, my company needs money. But no, it doesn't need it so bad that I have to take your bullshit. Good-bye.”

He didn't bother to chase her or even follow. Lance Heart Smith had lost his cool. Despite his grandmother's low opinion of him, he'd never behaved like that toward a woman.

Of course, he'd never been summarily dismissed either. Not once, not twice, but three times now. Who did she think she was?

She turned and called out to him. “And by the way, Lance.”

He looked up, shielding the sun from his eyes.

“I'm not a lesbian. I just don't like you.”

10

V
iv didn't regret her brash words, but she did regret the bravado with which she'd said them—and the lie. She did like Lance and wished they'd met under different circumstances.

She'd really done it this time though. She'd just alienated the deepest pockets on her list.

“The deepest pockets with retail experience,” Dakota pointed out. “You can always downscale the plan. That way, you won't need as much up-front capital.”

Vicki had suggested the same when Viv went home to vent her frustration rather than immediately returning to the shop and taking it out on her employees.

She'd calmed down a bit, but maintained her all-or-nothing attitude to the expansion of Guilty Pleasures. This couldn't be done piecemeal. It had to be big and flamboyant.

“I can't do this by half measure, Dakota. Each part of the expansion plan is directly linked to the other. If I pull one element, the others lose their impact.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don't know,” she said.

But Viv knew for certain that she wouldn't be asking Basil or Julian for the money.

 

 

What the two women didn't know was Lance Heart Smith or his determination to convince Viv she had him all wrong. Of course, his own behavior undermined him. But he thought about the advice he'd given the teens at the youth center. And he thought about what he'd learned as Cole's executive assistant. . . and what he knew about being a Heart. Hearts always got what they wanted, one way or another.

The full campaign to win Viv began with a conversation he didn't have with Cole.

“I've barely seen him in the last twenty-four hours,” Sonja said. “His friend Jack arrived and they've been huddled somewhere talking about Brazil.”

“Jack? Jack who?”

“I had a similar response,” Sonja said dryly. “Apparently some guy who looks like a cross between The Rock and Indiana Jones is his oldest and dearest friend.”

Lance thought
he
claimed that role. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized his relationship with Cole, though very close, was more often like older brother to younger rather than best friend to best friend, or uncle to nephew.

“I can leave a message for him to give you a call. It's probably best to leave a message on his cell, too.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, but his mind was on something his grandmother had said.
It's time you settled down.
She'd been talking about getting married, but there was more than one way to settle down.

Virginia and Uncle Jimmy had accused him of squandering his birthright, of not being responsible. He was twenty-eight and had had his share—more than his fair share—of incidents like the one at the Waterside Marriott.

Despite what everyone thought, he knew something about business. He'd paid attention enough to grasp the basics. And he had a piece of paper with an MBA degree testifying that he knew more than just the basics of business administration. He'd mastered it.

“Lance?”

“No, Sonja. Don't bother leaving a message for Cole. I'll handle this.”

“All right. And how've you been? Staying out of trouble or in it up to your neck as usual?”

Lance stared at the small phone for a moment. Did everybody think he was a royal screwup? Apparently, they all did.

“Actually, Sonja, I've turned over a new leaf.”

She chuckled. “If you say so. Listen, my other line is ringing. Talk to you later.”

Lance flipped his cell phone closed and frowned.

Cole. Sonja. His grandmother. Uncle Jimmy. Even Viv—someone he'd known all of a few days. They all thought he was a one-track wonder. Well, Lance Heart Smith had skills they didn't know about. And he'd show them just what they were.

He didn't need any of them.

A moment later, he punched in the number to Guilty Pleasures. Betty Boop answered the line and said Viv wasn't in the shop. “Would you like to leave a message?”

“This is Lance Heart Smith. Please tell Ms. la Fontaine that her proposal has been accepted.”

 

 

“He said what?”

Leticia read the message she'd scribbled on a cream-colored memo pad. “He said to tell you your proposal has been accepted.”

Viv and Dakota exchanged a glance.

“Thanks,” Viv said, taking the piece of paper. “You'd better get back on the floor. There's someone headed to the register.”

She closed her office door behind the salesclerk.

“Does that mean the Hearts are going to front the money for the expansion?”

“I don't know what it means,” Viv said. “He plays a lot of games.” She settled at her desk and stared at the phone message while Dakota paced the area in front of it. And he'd said his family wasn't involved in the deal.

“How can the proposal be accepted? We haven't even done a presentation.” Dakota glanced at Viv. “Or have we?”

“No. There've been no presentations.”

But there had been an argument on the boardwalk.

She'd essentially told him to go to hell, that she wouldn't take his money under any circumstance. Yet now, he was calling to say her proposal had been accepted. Viv didn't for a minute buy his line about making a personal investment in Guilty Pleasures. Wanting a piece of ass only went so far. No one in his right mind—with the exception of someone like her beloved Ellison—would make that kind of personal commitment. She'd done her homework. Lance's pockets were deep, but she hadn't known they were
that
deep. Viv realized, however, that she had nothing to lose in returning his call. She'd already written him and the Hearts off as serious contenders and was piecing together the next best bet for capital outlay. Guilty Pleasures meant too much to her to fool around with a smooth talker who was only interested in getting her in bed.

But she wasn't crazy either.

If he was for real, she was one step closer to realizing her dream for her business—and one step closer to not feeling stagnated by sameness. Viv would call his bluff, if that, indeed, was what his telephone message had been all about.

She reached for the phone. “Dammit.”

“What's wrong?”

“I don't have a number for him here.”

“How can you not . . .”

Viv shushed her with a hand as she dialed information. A moment later she had the corporate office for Heart Federated.

“May I have the extension for Mr. Lance Heart Smith.”

She didn't expect that he actually had a job. Lance struck her as the type the family would try to dissuade from getting involved in the day-to-day operation of the company—or what remained of it. But two clicks later and a receptionist answered.

“I'd like to speak with Lance Heart Smith.”

“I'm sorry, ma'am. He's unavailable at the moment. May I take a message?”

Viv glanced up at Dakota who stood expectantly at the edge of the desk. “This is Vivienne la Fontaine of Guilty Pleasures. Tell him I'm pleased that my company's proposal has been accepted and I look forward to meeting with him and representatives from Heart Federated.” If he was jerking her chain about a private and personal investment, she'd put him on notice that she was on to his game.

Vivienne spelled her name and left two telephone numbers where she could be reached.

Slowly she replaced the receiver, then peeked up at Dakota. “Do you think it's too early to break out the champagne?”

 

 

“Oh, Mrs. Heart, I didn't realize you were in today.”

Virginia glanced up. “Hello, Elaine.” Elaine Craddock was one of three employees they'd kept on to maintain the offices of what was once the hub of Heart Federated. There were no longer any Heart Federated Department Stores in Virginia or North Carolina, but a couple still existed in Detroit. The former headquarters remained open though, giving family members a place to cling to—or escape to.

Virginia herself had come in today just to retrieve a vase she wanted back at the house and instead had gotten caught up in a trip down memory lane on the way to the office she still maintained, but rarely visited. The photos along the gallery promenade reminded her of the power and influence the Heart family once wielded. Once upon a time, Heart Federated Department Stores were a source of personal and community pride. Everyone who was anyone shopped at the stores, particularly the flagship one in Hampton. Now all that remained of that glory were two dinky little Heart Federated Department Stores in Detroit run by an incompetent cousin of her late husband. To even call them department stores was an affront. More like discount warehouses. Even Knight and Kraus didn't want those relics. So the Heart Federated Department Store name continued to exist, but the Heart spirit was gone.

For the first time, Virginia questioned her impetuous vote to sell the company to Knight and Kraus. She'd made a lot of money in the deal—a whole lot—and she had lost her son in the deal.

The photos along the gallery reminded her of what would never be again. Now, as Lily said, the future was waiting.

Virginia didn't know what her future held. The only thing in front of her were long, lonely days. Days spent doing the same things she'd always done. For some reason, that thought depressed her.

Staring at those old photographs, she made up her mind. She would go on that singles cruise with Lily. If nothing else, she'd be distracted for a week.

“Mrs. Heart? Are you all right?”

A tremulous smile formed at her mouth. A hand fluttered near her hairline. Then, Virginia got herself together. “Yes, of course. What do you want?”

“A call just came in for Lance. I'm not sure what to do with it.”

“For Lance? Does he still keep an office here?”

“No, ma'am. Just you, Mr. Jimmy and Miss Justine.”

“I'll take the message.”

The receptionist told her. Virginia's eyebrows rose. “And you say she was calling from what store?”

 

 

“What is that boy up to now?”

Virginia's research took less than ten minutes. This Guilty Pleasures was some sort of lingerie shop in Norfolk. The place was in Ghent, so it had some cache on location if nothing else. Virginia didn't know what Lance was up to, but she knew how to find out.

Not too much later her driver pulled up in front of the shop.

“Wait for me,” she told him.

Then, like the queen she thought she was, she swept into the store.

“How may I assist you today, ma'am?”

Virginia took in the too-tight leopard-print skirt, the dangerously high heels and the silicon breasts, and in an instant knew exactly what her grandson was up to. “Are you Vivienne la Fontaine?”

“No, ma'am. My name's Dakota. We have a special this week at Guilty Pleasures. Buy one, get one at half price. There are several . . .”

“I'd like to see Miss Fontaine.”

Dakota took a step back. “Her last name is la Fontaine. Whom shall I say is here to see her?”

“Mrs. Heart. Mrs. Virginia Heart.”

“Just a moment, please.”

While the bimbette went in search of the la Fontaine woman, Virginia took a look around the store. Reluctantly, she had to admit it was set up very well. The layout was designed for the customer's comfort. She fingered the lace trim on a black bustier. If this was really a store—not that Virginia would ever deign to wear anything like this—the floor designer had done an admirable job.

She turned, caught sight of the chaise and arched an eyebrow. Just what else did they supposedly sell besides lingerie? Knowing Lance the way she did, Virginia figured the retail store was a front for a brothel.

 

 

Dakota clicked the office door shut behind her. “You're not going to believe who's out there!”

“Not Lance again.”

Dakota shook her head. “Worse. Or maybe better.”

Viv glanced up from her work. “Basil? God, I don't need or want to see him now. He's making my life such a . . .”

“Virginia Heart. Mrs. Virginia Heart.”

Viv pushed the computer mouse aside. “Heart like some relation to Lance?”

“Heart like imperial. Heart like demanding and a piece of work.”

Viv glanced at the office door. “What's she wearing?”

“It looks like Chanel. A very conservative suit. Expensive shoes and bag. She looks like she's going to tea with the queen of England.”

“Damn.” Viv glanced at the ruffled lemon chiffon blouse she wore over a cream miniskirt. She hopped up and went to the closet. “It's a good thing I hadn't taken this stuff home yet.”

She snatched a plastic dry-cleaning bag off a suit.

“What are you doing?”

“That's the money out there. The really deep pockets.” She shimmied out of the skirt, swapping it for a pair of tailored slacks. “I knew he was lying about a personal investment. She's come to check us out before the formal presentation to their funding board.”

Dakota shook her head.

“The duster doesn't quite match this blouse, but I can pull it together with the right accessories.” She waggled her fingers at Dakota.

“What?”

“Your earrings.”

Dakota pulled off the earrings they were pushing that month.

Viv hopped on one foot while she kicked off the sexy lemon mules and put on a pair of high-heeled but plain pumps.

From her desk she snatched a jeweled letter opener. She twisted her hair up, stuck the letter opener in to secure the mass.