Free Riches to Rags Bride by Myrna Mackenzie

He needed to just forget about her situation.
    She wasn’t his concern, was she? Except…she was—damn her—another woman in peril. Another Angie. It almost seemed as if fate were mocking him by sending him someone like Genevieve just when he was trying to effect a change that would enable him to forever be free of her kind of woman. A woman in trouble, one whose situation was beyond his control when control was what he had always needed most, what he couldn’t survive without.
    So, he cursed fate. He tried to ignore Genevieve’s situation and just get on with the project as quickly as possible.
    Until the night when there was another robbery in her neighborhood.
    And there it was. Again. His past breathing down his neck. Hot. Frightening. Careening out of control. No way to control the situation at all. He remembered Angie, who had lived in fear her whole life. Angie, whose life had been changed forever because of two men who should have protected her but who hurt and failed her and, ultimately, destroyed her.
    Damn it, he had been one of those men and he could not survive hurting another woman like that or standing by and letting one get hurt when he had the means to stop it. Because he knew—all too well—that it was only a matter of time before someone noticed that a delicate flower like Genevieve was living smack in the middle of a “no holds barred, no crime left uncommitted” zone.
    She would end up being hurt because he had left her there.
    Because you have absolutely no right to interfere. She told you earlier in every way possible that she wants to fight clear of that place herself. And when that happened, she would no doubt return to the glassed-off world of the privileged, where rough men like him didn’t belong. That was a good thing.
    Still, Lucas didn’t do a single push-up that night. His control that he had always relied on failed him.
    Because damn it, he knew the streets like he knew his own thoughts. Six locks or eight locks or even ten locks wouldn’t matter if the bad guys wanted in.
    One good look at Genevieve and they would want in.
    Lucas swore. He waited for the morning. And then he went to Angie’s House.
    Surely, if he did this right, he could get Genevieve out of his mind. Then he could go back to moving on with his life. And Genevieve could return to being…someone who didn’t matter to him at all beyond this project.
    Thank goodness.
    â€œSo get on with it, McDowell. Make a deal with the woman. Get her out of your thoughts. Now. Today.”
    Â 
    Genevieve looked around the small den, which was substantially cleaner than when she had entered it at the beginning of the day. Then she looked down at herself. Okay, the delicate piping around the edge of the neckline of her top was slightly damp, there were a few dust smudges here and there, but unlike some of the other outfits she’d been wearing, this one might live to see another day.
    An inordinate sense of accomplishment brought a smile to her face. “I did it,” she said to no one in particular.
    â€œDid what?” Lucas’s unmistakable deep voice came from the doorway, and Gen whirled to find him studying her intently.
    Automatically some major fluttering began in her stomach. She frowned at her own foolish reaction and squelched it until only a few tiny flutters remained.
    â€œI…” She held out her hand. “It’s dumb.”
    He waited.
    â€œI cleaned an entire room by myself. I mean, it’s not perfect.” Because now that he was here, she was noticing that she had missed some dust on the windowsill and there were still a few cobwebs here and there and…
    â€œIt’s good,” he said.
    Which might have seemed like faint praise to most people, but to a woman used to no praise? His words were truthful. Not overblown. He hadn’t said “great,” which she would have known was a lie. He had said