Myrna Mackenzie - Riches to Rags Bride / The Heiress's Baby

She couldn’t let that happen. From now on, she was going to throw herself into this project with every ounce of her being. Down that road lay freedom, redemption, independence. “I can’t wait to get started,” she said.

Lucas raised one dark brow.

“I mean it,” Genevieve said. She needed to earn her first money, pay her overdue bills, prove herself and reclaim her self-respect.

Closing her eyes to her lack of experience, she tried not to panic at the thought of the massive task ahead. “Where should I begin?” She glanced toward the brooms and rags and cleaning supplies in one corner.

“Today we’ll just get you acclimated. I want you to get a feel for the building and the possibilities, what we need to accomplish. In time, there will be eight women living here, so you’ll want to get a sense of the space and help me decide what we’re going to do with it decorating and usage-wise. I deal in sporting goods and making money and I’ve spearheaded the construction of a number of stores, but I’m sure you’ll have more of an idea about what women might want or need in a dream home. You’re also the expert in decorating and events planning.”

“Okay. So … what type of events will those be?” Her heart was pounding so hard she was amazed Lucas couldn’t hear it. She had always been the behind-the-scenes person, not the up-front person.

“This house is in a residential neighborhood. We’ll want to make sure the locals are comfortable with us. For that, we’ll need to court them, to reassure them that the women here will be their neighbors, women committed to making life and this neighborhood a better place. This place—” he swung his arm out in an arc “—as I mentioned, is meant to be a place where women arrive broken and leave whole, with pride in who they are and who they can become.”

Genevieve couldn’t help herself then. “That’s wonderful. What you’re doing is wonderful.” She couldn’t help wondering what had sparked this project, but she didn’t dare ask. Maybe she was clueless about a lot of things, but something so far-removed from the realm of running the sporting goods empire Lucas had built his reputation on? It had to be personal.

To her surprise, he frowned at her compliment. “Wonderful is a very strong word. It doesn’t fit here. The fact is that I’m a very rich man, and I can get this started, but that’s not nearly enough. The real power lies in getting other people, lots of other people, behind Angie’s House and the next Angie’s House and the next. So when we’re done with the renovation, we’ll open the doors. I want you to plan and oversee a major open house for the most elite members of the city. Our goal is to impress them and to impress upon them the need to get involved. Finally, you’ll help me find the women who’ll live here and the employees who’ll work here.”

She blinked, trying not to be overwhelmed, trying not to panic at what was going to be expected of her. Breathe, Gen, breathe. Take it easy. Take it one step at a time , she thought. Just take one tiny step . “Okay. That all makes sense. For now, I guess—I should probably get started on the cleaning. There’s a lot of building here.”

A whole lot of scrubbing for a woman who had never done anything like that .

There was that elusive hint of a smile again, the straight, hard line of his mouth barely curving up at one corner. What had she said that was so amusing?

“I’m sure this isn’t what you grew up doing and I don’t expect you to single-handedly tackle this mess. I have two helpers coming in. They’ll be assisting you as the project progresses and they’ll be doing most of the repairing, painting and cleanup. But they’ll respect you more if they see that you’re not afraid of getting a little dirt beneath your fingernails.”

Was that a dare? Genevieve had no idea and no real idea of how to begin. She wasn’t even sure how to make use of her helpers who would be coming soon. She’d never been in this kind of position, and her parents had been flighty, self-absorbed people who probably weren’t typical employers, so there was little use in trying to utilize her past experiences. Still, she didn’t want to ask too many questions. If she was supposed to be a project manager, shouldn’t she appear … managerial? She especially didn’t want to ask anything that would make her look foolish. Barry had often made fun of her naïveté.

“All right. That makes sense. And I’m not afraid.” Not of getting dirt under her fingernails, but of Lucas, a man who overwhelmed by his presence and his manner and his looks …? Yes, she was afraid, but she didn’t want to think about that.

Instead, she picked up a broom and began to sweep. With vigor and determination. Soon the dust was swirling, flying all around, clogging her throat.

She couldn’t hold back a cough.

Lucas appeared at her side. He touched her hand.

Just the lightest of touches, but when his flesh met hers, fierce heat swirled through her, her breath caught, her whole body became aware of him as a man. She jerked back, stopped sweeping.

“Easy, Genevieve. It’s just dust. You want to push it, not attack it. Like this.” He demonstrated.

She took back the broom, embarrassed that she couldn’t even manage the simplest of tasks. With some effort, she tried not to think about how Lucas’s fingertips had felt against her skin.

It couldn’t matter. Nothing could matter except succeeding. Moving on. Moving up. Learning. And getting good at being alone.

A mere two hours into the day, Lucas looked up to see that Genevieve was soaked to the skin. She was a total mess.

A beautiful mess , he corrected, then frowned at the thought. She was washing walls and water was sluicing down her arms, slicking away the layers of dirt she’d accumulated dusting and sweeping. The moisture turned her creamy skin shiny and damp and then sloshed onto her pale blue blouse, making it cling to her body.

But she wasn’t complaining.

A sliver of admiration slipped through him followed by something else. Something hot when he stared at that damp fabric encasing her slender form.

Knock it off, McDowell. She’s your employee. Your very temporary employee. And off-limits . In all ways.

Stifling a growl, Lucas threw down the cloth he was using to wash windows and went into the closet, where he had stashed a few changes of clothing. Removing a faded chambray shirt from a hanger, he walked over to

Genevieve. “You might want this. And … you probably don’t need to use that much water.”

She looked up at him through dazed eyes. Tired eyes. He realized that she’d been working like a dog since she arrived two hours ago. When she looked at the shirt and then glanced down at her chest, he could see the jolt of embarrassment rip through her. That creamy skin turned almost as rosy as her hair.

“I—thank you. Yes, less water. I’ll remember that,” she said as she hastily reached out, took the shirt and slipped into it. It was miles too big for her. Baggy. Good.

“Time for a break,” he said.

“No, I … I’m fine. I need to get this done. We’re on a tight schedule, right?”

“We are. But even bosses need breathers. Thomas and Jorge will be here any minute. They’ll need us to give them orders, to guide them. A boss that looks beat-up doesn’t instill confidence in the employees.” Which was true but sounded like a made-up excuse. Still, she gave him a tentative nod. She stopped long enough to have a drink of water and rest for a minute. Then she went back to her wall-washing.

When Thomas and Jorge showed up, Lucas introduced them. Thomas bowed slightly. “You are … muy bonita , Ms. Patchett,” he said.