She Hates Me Not: A Richer in Love Romance (2 page)

“Why bother with this at all?” Lou asked.  “Why not just let him go alone?”

Briefly Lydia appeared human.  Something almost motherly snuck its way to the surface of her bulletproof exterior.  Fascinated, Lou watched the British version of a tiger mom succumb for half a second to her softer side.

“Because I love him.  And I am worried about him.  His life has been easy, but it has not been kind.”

Surprised by the insight, Lou stared until Lydia’s compact form turned onto Wood Street.  The woman walked like she did everything else – as if the rest of the free world was doing it wrong and needed her to demonstrate.

Lou flopped into the nearest chair, its metal legs scraping the cobblestones.  What the heck just happened?  Lydia never even asked for her name.

Maybe she’d heard Moggie use it in the café.  Still, the polite thing would be to pretend that she hadn’t, to introduce herself and fake a few pleasantries before hiring a stranger to be her son’s date.

Lou couldn’t begin to guess what was wrong with the boy.  Was he socially awkward?  Did he make bad choices?  Looks wouldn’t matter.  She refused to be that shallow.  If something did make him different, something he couldn’t help, then Lou would try to be the best date ever.  With a mother like that, the guy’s issue was probably psychological.

At least there’d be a bodyguard along for the ride.  Plus a hundred other guests at what was the event of the summer in Stratford.  Tickets for the gala started at two thousand pounds.  It supported the town’s theatres in a way that nothing else could.  For years Lou had listened to the after-tales of the gala’s matchless elegance and perpetual success.  Champagne fountain.  Silent auction.  Extravagant buffet and candlelit dance floor.

And now she was going.  With a guy she didn’t know.

More importantly, she was helping Améline.  Tears welled in Lou’s eyes as she imagined her sister’s face when her next email arrived.  Just that morning she had prayed for a miracle.  Maybe this was it.

A
s Kip held the smartphone several inches from his mouth, his mother’s voice resonated through the limousine.  He wanted Yannick to hear their conversation even though he guessed the man was already aware.  As his mother’s bodyguard, Yannick was privy to more of her business than anyone else.  That included her two sons.

“I’m sure she’s a very nice girl,” his mother insisted.

“You’re sure?  You mean you haven’t met her?”

Kip revealed his exasperation without raising his voice.  He didn’t have a temper, but his even-keeled nature was a welcome mat for people too willing to abuse it.  In his family’s line of business, that seemed to be most everyone.  Especially his mother.

“Consider it a favor to the girl’s father.  He’s a valued business partner of ours, and he appreciates your willingness to escort his daughter to the gala.”

Kip read between the lines.  Do this for him, and he’ll do something for us.

“Why can’t she find a date on her own?” he pressed.

“I told you.  She’s American.”

“Did you not think, at some point, to include your twenty-seven-year-old son in this discussion?”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing now?”  His mother’s voice had dropped a full octave which meant her patience was waning.  For her, this was not a discussion.

“As we’re pulling up to the pavement,” he retorted.  “I can’t very well wave the girl off now, can I?”

“Thank you, Kipling.  Don’t forget to bid on the Renoir.”

She hung up before he could reply.

Tossing the phone onto the seat, Kip turned his scowl on Yannick.

The man did nothing more than smile in sympathy.  Absentmindedly he twiddled his thumbs.  The rest of him was as motionless as a mountain.

At 6’4” and 18 stone, Yannick consumed more than half of the limousine’s rear-facing seat.  While the African immigrant was imposing to behold, size alone had determined his profession.  Yannick could easily play defense for an American football team.

Instead, he protected all three members of the Richmond family at public events.  Fully licensed by the Security Industry Authority, Yannick didn’t blend into crowds and wasn’t meant to. Although he couldn’t carry firearms in the U.K., he could disarm anyone who did.

He also dressed as Santa Claus at the company Christmas party.  Of all the duties required to be Lydia Richmond’s bodyguard, Kip suspected that playing Santa was Yannick’s favorite.

“So does this make you our chaperone?” Kip asked as the limousine rolled to a stop.

Yannick gave his trademark reply.  “I am here to serve Mrs. Richmond.”

“Aren’t we all?” Kip muttered.

While the driver stepped out to open the passenger door, Kip tried to prepare himself.  It was just one night.  One night of entertaining a stranger while shaking hands with others.  He was already in Stratford on family business, chasing the Renoir his mother desperately sought.  He could bid just as easily with a girl on his arm.  It wasn’t the daughter’s fault.

Or maybe it was.  She might be another spoiled debutante whose father pulled any strings to please her.  She could have read about Kip in the papers and decided to have a go at Britain’s “most uncatchable bachelor.”  However unpleasant the scenario, it was only for one night.

Kip shifted toward the open door.  He would assume the best until the worst presented itself.

The girl who entered the limo was no girl at all.  Kip’s first glimpse of her revealed a slender form poured into a sequined black dress.  Unfussy.  Sophisticated.  With a tantalizing slit.

Graciously she thanked the driver.  Her descent onto the seat wasn’t graceful, and her black handbag bore the brunt of her weight.  She seemed as nervous as Kip was annoyed.

When she swiveled to greet him, her plump pink lips fell open.  Staring mutely at Kip, she didn’t blink.  Her green eyes complemented her side-swept auburn curls, and freckles dotted her creamy cheeks.  Even horrified, she was pretty.  More than pretty.  She was unique. 

Unique and clearly upset by his presence.  So this was an ambush for them both.

“You’re Kip Richmond,” she blurted.  Her accent was one he couldn’t quite place.

He extended a hand.  “And you are?”

The limousine reached the end of Wood Street before she slipped her hand into his.  Delivering a blur of unintelligible sounds, she pulled free of his grip.  Straightaway he wished she hadn’t.

“Sorry,” he replied.  “What is your name?”

With intentional slowness, she said it again.  “Lou.  Aucoin.  Oh-kwaaaah.  Like the sound a baby makes when it cries.”

Understanding, Kip wanted her to repeat the instructions – several dozen times if possible.  When Lou spoke, her lips moved in a hypnotic rhythm.  Her voice was a blend of piquant and sweet, like a Pimm’s and ginger ale.

“Is that French?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said crisply.  “I’m from south Louisiana.”

Lou’s body language made her reaction to Kip crystal clear.  Folded arms.  Crossed legs.  She’d wedged herself into the corner.  Kip half expected her to fling open the door and dive for the pavement like a hostage in a Hollywood film.

Her unbridled contempt was an unpleasant reminder of what the world at large believed.  He might have made some mistakes in his university days, but the tabloids sealed his fate.  Playboy or payday – those seemed to be his only options with women.

“You didn’t know I was your date.”  His comment wasn’t a question.  “Your father didn’t tell you.”

“My father…”  Lou’s gaze moved in a circle while she paused.  “No, my father didn’t tell me anything about this.  He kept a lot of secrets.”

“Kept?”

“Keeps.  I meant keeps.”  Nonchalantly she shrugged.  “Jet lag.”

“My mother said you’re here for the summer.  Have you only just arrived?”

“Look, Mr. Richmond.”  With no intention of detaching from her corner, Lou leaned forward just enough to display a distracting amount of cleavage.  “Since we’re only paired up for this one night, maybe we should skip the details.  It’s not like we’re on a real date.”

Don’t look down, Kip ordered himself.  Do not look down.  Some women wanted men to ogle their assets.  He knew already Lou wasn’t among them.  None of her actions seemed calculating or deliberate.  If anything, she felt out of her depth.

Or repulsed by his presence, more like.

“Kip, please.”  He forced his eyes to remain fixed on Lou’s which were, thank God, as alluring as the rest of her.  “Call me Kip.”

“Kip and not Kipling?”

He winced as she said it.  “I hate my first name.”

“So do I.  Mine, not yours.”  She couched her confession in an earnest smile as bashful as it was enticing.

“Is your name not Lou?”  When she told him no, Kip offered his cheekiest grin.  “Good, because over here it is a toilet.  What’s your Christian name?”

Quick as she’d warmed to him, Lou retreated again.  Her smiled faded.  Her posture turned stiff.  “It’s a secret.”

Kip judged her discomfort.  She wasn’t trying to be coy.  “Sorry.  I forgot.  Details.  We are skipping those.”

On the seat between them, his phone buzzed.  Kip glanced at its screen.

Did you collect her?

Without hiding his annoyance, he replied. 
Yes.  Good night.

Renoir.
his mother texted back. 
Up to 3.5.

Yes.
  Switching off the phone’s ringer, Kip tucked it into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket.  His mother’s message, bothersome as it was, helped him remember his purpose.

First and foremost, he was there to bid at the auction.  Second, to represent Richmond Enterprises as its charming, if somewhat prodigal, son.  Third, and more uncertainly, to escort Miss Lou Aucoin.

While the limousine continued to crawl forward in the queue, Kip glanced out the tinted window.  The theatre was in sight.  A few more minutes and the evening truly began.  He wondered if Lou would ditch him before or after they entered the building.

“So how was the south of France?”

Yanked from his daze, Kip thought he might have misunderstood Lou’s question.  “Sorry?”

“I saw your picture in the paper.  You were on a beach in Nice.  Did you fly back today?”

Her questions were mildly taunting.  Even Yannick reacted with a defensive twitch that rippled across his broad frame like the ground settling after an earthquake.

Grateful that someone else among them knew the truth, Kip kept his gaze anchored on the street.  He propped his elbow on the windowsill and his chin in his hand.

“I was in London yesterday,” he said. “And the day before that.  I haven’t been to France in ages.”

“But I saw your picture in the paper –”

“And seeing is believing.  Is that your philosophy, Lou?”

“It was a photo,” she claimed with genuine naiveté.

“It was altered,” Kip replied.  “They changed the colors of our swimsuits and superimposed a new name on the yacht.  That picture was from the first year Catrella and I were together.”

It had been the best year of the three, the year before Cat was discovered by a talent agency and began appearing in small-budget films.  She wasn’t much of an actress, but she’d certainly fooled him.  Kip had only just cleaned up his act when they’d met.  Cat seemed eager to help him stay clean.

She’d also been eager to move things along.  Engagement ring.  A shared flat in London.  They even adopted a dog.  But Cat’s burgeoning career threw it all off kilter.  She became a commodity, then a celebrity.  Everything else – including Kip – faded into the background.

Kip was glad they hadn’t spoken in a year.  He wouldn’t know what to say if they did come face to face.  He couldn’t guess why that story had appeared in the papers, and in a harsh tone he said as much to Lou.

“So it wasn’t true?”

“Absolute twaddle,” Kip maintained.  “But you’re not the only one who believes what you read.  Most everybody does.”

Kip peeked at Lou.  She studied him with a lesser version of her gobsmacked stare.  Maybe she could become another person who knew the truth.

Despite having just met her, Kip wished she’d allow it.  To gain her confidence would seem like an achievement.  To earn her affection was a tantalizing goal.

“I almost begged off tonight,” he confessed.  “That’s a trap, however.  If I don’t show, they believe what they read all the more.  If I’m here, I can answer their questions honestly, and they have a chance to draw their own conclusions.  Hiding just feeds the lies.”

The limousine stopped.  As Kip waited for his passenger door to open, he unbuttoned his jacket.  Emerging from a limo was a sort of mini-obstacle course.  Any mistake could end up in the morning papers.  Major slip-ups went viral in seconds.

Proficiently Kip climbed out.  With one hand he re-buttoned his jacket.  He offered the other to Lou.

As she gazed up at him from the limo’s shadowed interior, Kip feared she might refuse his help.  He heard the whirr and snap of cameras at his back.  This wasn’t an A-list movie premiere, but there would be local coverage, and a snub of that level would be noticed – by other guests, if not the media.

When Lou rested her palm against his, Kip released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.  Gracefully she unfolded herself from the car, and for a moment they stood together.  She was taller than he expected.  She also wore substantial heels.

Stepping her away from the limo, Kip released her hand.  The polite thing would be to give Lou his arm, but he wasn’t convinced she’d accept.  Chivalry trumped his fear of rejection.  Raising an elbow, he hoped for the best.

“Will you allow me, Miss Aucoin?”

Her chin tilted downward.  Her bashful smile reappeared.  Kip’s heart beat faster at the sight.

His pulse continued to race at a ridiculous speed while they strolled up the carpeted stairs.  He hadn’t gone out with a woman since he and Cat called it quits.  Perhaps that explained his reaction. 

Whatever his mother had in mind for tonight, Kip guessed this wasn’t it.  Lydia Richmond cared nothing about the love lives of her sons – unless they endangered the family business.  While she believed the old adage that no publicity was bad, she was anything but a matchmaker.  For his mother, Lou’s presence at the Stratford Gala greased the wheels of some corporate deal.

For Kip, it threatened to become something else.  He glanced back to ensure that Yannick had been permitted to enter with them.

Catching his eye, Yannick winked.