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

the fact that Lucas McDowell had been studying her legs. Even though he had shown no interest whatsoever.

      “Okay,” she said.

      He looked as if he was going to smile, but … not quite. “Okay, that I’m a jerk or that your skirt fits the bill?”

      “I—”

      He shook his head. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Answer this, instead. Do you have any strong feelings about the homeless, about people who have no money or prestige, people who may have been in trouble? ”

      I’m seriously going to faint, she thought. Is he talking about me? How much research did he do? Does he know everything about my situation?

      “I think … that people shouldn’t be judged by their financial situations. I would hope that most people felt that way.” Even though she knew that that wasn’t the case.

      Lucas nodded. “All right. Last question. You and Teresa haven’t seen much of each other since you’ve grown up, but when you were young, you were close, she tells me. I’m sure she shared secrets with you. I make it my business to know everything about my employees past and present. Can you tell me some of those secrets?”

      “No!” Genevieve’s voice came out a bit too loud, but shock at the bizarre and rude question rushed through her. For a moment she felt physically ill. Maybe she’d never interviewed for a job before, but she was sure that such questions were out of line and just plain alarming. What kind of man was this?

      She looked up at Lucas and knew that in that moment, with that no, she had sealed her fate. The sick feeling grew. Lucas was gazing at her intently, waiting, those gray eyes mesmerizing. Hard. Cold. Demanding. What would it be like to have no money, no home, no food? No doubt she was about to find out.

      “No,” she said again, softly this time. Teresa, despite her playful attitude and her money, had had a harsh childhood. She trusted Genevieve. “No.”

      Lucas’s cold gray gaze softened, just a touch. “When can you begin work?” he asked.

      “What?”

      “Work. When can you begin work? That’s what you came for, isn’t it?”

      “Yes, but I thought—your question … I …”

      “Most people have a few dark secrets in their closet. I have no interest in prying into Teresa’s past. What I needed to know was whether you would spill those secrets in order to get a job. That’s all I needed to ascertain.”

      His deep voice delivering the news she most needed to hear seemed to rumble right through her body, touching every nerve ending on its journey. Genevieve let out a deep, shaky breath, still disoriented and more than a little alarmed by her physical attraction to this man when he was so obviously someone who didn’t play by the rules. She had been fooled by people reputed to be straight shooters. How on earth could she deal with someone whose methods she couldn’t even begin to understand?

      “I’m afraid that you have me at a disadvantage, Mr. McDowell. Teresa told me that the job might involve a little decorating, some clerical or organizational skills. She told me what little she knew, but … as I mentioned earlier, I have no real idea what the job will entail or why you would need to know whether I would spill my guts about a friend’s past.”

      “I know, and I apologize for the bizarre nature of this interview. My only rationale is that the work you’ll be doing, should you accept the task, is in some ways very public, but other parts are very sensitive. The person I hire has to be capable of dealing with sensitive personal information, but it’s difficult to measure that kind of loyalty. Most job candidates would insist that they were capable of discretion, but in reality not that many can resist retelling a juicy story. So, my apologies for my methods. I guarantee that from here on out, we’ll have the most practical and ordinary of business relationships.”

      Genevieve highly doubted that. There was nothing ordinary about Lucas McDowell. “All right,” she said. “Can you tell me what the job is now, please?”

      He looked slightly amused.

      “What?”

      “You’re exceptionally polite, given the fact that I no doubt creeped you out.”

      She tilted her head. “You hold the cards.”

      “So I do. All right, Genevieve, I’ve bought a large piece of property in the suburbs. The plan is to create a shelter for women who are down on their luck, a place to rebuild the lives of those who’ve been damaged by poverty or circumstances. We’re going to make it something the city can be proud of. I’m hoping it will spawn other such establishments, so we’re going to give it plenty of publicity. I want Angie’s House to be a perfect jewel, a success that will be the epicenter of a growing movement that will change lives. That means lots of buzz in order to jump-start the project with the public and potential sponsors of future Angie’s Houses.

      “However, once we open the doors, we can’t forget that the women who’ll live there have already been betrayed by life. Some of them will want to keep the more personal aspects of their hardships to themselves. Others may put their trust in you by sharing parts of their stories. It’s important that whoever I hire knows how to put on a big show but also how to keep a confidence. I have to know that whoever works with me will talk up the concept while never betraying the trust of the prospective new tenants. It’s a fine line we’ll be walking.”

      Genevieve knew what it was like to have her trust betrayed. She shuddered.

      “That’s why you asked me about Teresa.”

      “If you had tried to say one word about her past, I would have stopped you. And I couldn’t have hired you.”

      She looked up into Lucas’s harsh face. “Mr. McDowell, I assure you that I understand. It isn’t always easy or smart to trust someone. Words aren’t enough.”

      “Agreed.”

      “So … why me?” she asked.

      He shrugged. “I choose my employees carefully. Teresa is trustworthy. She recommended you. That alone wouldn’t have been enough, however. I need a good project manager and I’m sure I could have found someone else. You, however, have an edge.”

      For the job of project manager? Genevieve wanted to close her eyes. Had Teresa overstated her skills? Did Lucas McDowell think she knew more than she did?

      “What’s my edge?” she managed to ask.

      “If you’ve organized your parents’ society events, you have a handle on how to make things happen and how to deal with time constraints, problems, setbacks and personnel. You’ve proven that you can keep a secret should that become necessary, and you have some experience with decor, something I lack. Furthermore, and most importantly, because as I said, I don’t want this project, Angie’s House, to be a single entity, you have the name to get people talking, to attract the kind of attention we need to bring in other donors for other houses.”

      Genevieve struggled to keep her hands from shaking. The last thing she wanted right now was attention. The last thing she was capable of was bringing in people on the mere mention of her name.

      She tried to swallow, struggled to find her voice. “You have a famous name.”

      He shook his head. “I have money and a successful business. With a few exceptions, famous entrepreneurs don’t become household names. But people like your parents? World renowned artists? Yes, they do. Their name is like a glowing diamond. It puts people in a good mood, gets them excited. And you happen to share it.”

      Genevieve’s heart fell a bit. Her importance hinged on her parents’ talents as it always had. She wanted to back away. But she couldn’t afford to.

      “Does that mean I really do have the job?” She managed to ask.

      “If you want it.”

      She wanted