How to Trap a Tycoon Elizabeth Bevarly (year 7 reading list txt) 📖

reliving his past, he prevented himself from enjoying his present. And he certainly kept himself from ever planning for a decent future. He had a long way to go before he could finally say he'd dealt with it. Of course, it would help if he had someone there with him who might show him the way, a person who had traveled the path already and knew what to watch out for. A person who might not mind if, eventually, he took her hand and helped her, too.

Right now, however, he had no idea what to say to that person. So he just remained silent and waited for a cue from her.

"After Alice died," Edie finally went on, "I got it into my head that I wanted to find out where I came from. Where I really came from. So I started looking for my biological mother."

"And how's that going?" Lucas asked, grateful for the change of subject, fully aware, however, that what he and Edie had just shared was in no way finished.

"It's going," she told him. "The laws are kind of tricky, and it takes time, but…" She shrugged. "I'm hopeful."

So what else is new? he thought.

As grateful as he had been for the change of subject, he was surprised to hear himself pipe up suddenly, "That's why you don't want men touching you, isn't it, Edie? Because you were mistreated so often by your … clients."

She seemed as surprised as he—and certainly no more thrilled—by the return to their earlier conversation, but she nodded in agreement. "Among others, yes."

Lucas decided not to ask about those others. Not just because he could, unfortunately, imagine all too well, and not because he didn't want her to relive memories she was clearly unwilling to revisit. But because there was another question he wanted to ask her so much more.

"Edie, will you let me touch you?"

Her eyes flew open wide, darkened by her obvious panic at hearing the question. "No," she told him immediately, adamantly.

He didn't make a move toward her, but he opened his hand, palm up, and began to slowly extend it forward. "Just let me come over there and put my hand in yours, that's all."

She shook her head vehemently enough to send her blond curls flying. "No, Lucas."

"Then let me put my palm over yours."

"No."

"Then fingertip to fingertip."

"No."

"Then—"

"No."

This time he was the one to sigh. "Then will you come over here and touch me?" he asked.

Her eyes seemed to brighten some then, but he saw quickly that it wasn't due to any lightening of her spirit. It was due to the tears that had sprung up out of nowhere. She didn't answer him right away, only continued to gaze at him in silence, her eyes filling deeper and deeper. Then, very slowly, she shook her head again. The motion caused one fat tear to spill over and glide down her cheek, and something inside Lucas twisted tight at seeing it.

"Edie, just touch me," he said softly. "You know I won't hurt you. You know that."

"Rationally, I suppose I do know that," she conceded softly. "But it's not my rational mind you have to convince, Lucas. It's the scared, strung-out seventeen-year-old girl who's still living inside me."

"Then bring her out," he said eagerly, "and let me talk to her. Let me touch her."

Edie uttered a soft, strangled sound at that. "I wish I could. But she's buried way too deep inside me. You'll never get to her. You'll never convince her."

"The hell she's down deep," Lucas countered. "Edie, she's right there, just below the surface. She's the one who panics every time a man gets near you."

He stood up then, not sure what he planned to do, but unable to sit still any longer. And when he did, the scared seventeen-year-old in Edie reacted, bolting out of her chair, too. Even though Lucas didn't make a single move forward, she strode backward until her fanny made contact with the windowsill. Then she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if trying to keep herself from falling apart.

"I won't hurt you, Edie," Lucas said again. "I will never, ever hurt you."

He braved a small step forward and took some comfort in the fact that she didn't retreat further—not that she had anyplace to go except into the corner, but at least she didn't do that. So he chanced another small step toward her, again with no reaction on Edie's part. She didn't move forward to meet him halfway—or even quarterway—but she didn't withdraw, either.

The third step he took did seem to concern her, though, because as he completed it, her eyes widened a bit in … something. He couldn't quite say what. Concerned that she would flee to her room and lock the door, and knowing he was probably pushing his luck, Lucas stole a few more steps toward her, positioning himself between her and escape, until he was close enough to reach out and touch her.

He didn't reach out, though. Because she hastened sideways and crowded herself into the corner created by the window and the wall, cowering in very apparent and very heartbreaking fear.

"I won't take another step forward," Lucas promised her. "But I'm not going to go backward, either."

"Lucas," she said, her voice level and strong, something that heartened him greatly. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but … don't. Okay? Just … don't."

"Edie, all you have to do is give me your hand. That's all. Just give me your hand."

She shook her head. "You're asking for too much, Lucas. You might as well be asking for the moon."

"It's next on my wish list," he told her with a tentative smile. "Right after Edie Mulholland's heart."

Edie gazed at Lucas in disbelief, certain she had misunderstood, or, worse, that he was lying to her. But there was something in his eyes as he said what he did, something wistful, something hopeful, something she'd never seen there before. And she had to force herself not to blurt