by Lucy Farago
“Look, we’re friends, right? Friends don’t let friends drive tired.”
“Drunk. It’s drunk, not tired. And I haven’t had anything to drink in over a week. I’d say I’m sober.” She removed his hand off her arm, curious to hear what he’d come up with next.
“Would you like one?”
“What, a drink?” As tired as she was, it took everything she had not to laugh at the absurdity of their conversation. “I’m driving,” she said, knowing she was walking.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll get the wine, you pick out a room.”
“Nice try. And now I’m leaving.” She managed to make it to the front door before he stopped her.
“You can’t drive tired.”
“I won’t,” she assured him. “I’m heading over to Maggie’s. My car is there anyways.”
“Lizzy—”
“Duncan. I’m not spending the night. For starters, you’re still a suspect and second, it’s not good for either of us.” She grabbed her jacket off the settee she’d tossed it on.
“Everything that happened between us aside—”
“Please don’t. I’m too tired to argue. I can’t spend the night. It’s not a good idea. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”
He opened his mouth and she knew it was to argue. “Duncan, say goodnight,” she said, leaving no room for discussion.
She heard a disgruntled goodnight just as she closed the door. She’d made the right decision, and the walk to Maggie’s in the cool spring air would do her good. Staying with Duncan would do her bad. They needed time apart. With planning for the party, the party itself, and then Victoria’s unfortunate demise and aftermath, she’d seen Duncan nearly every day for the last month. He’d grown increasing anal when it came to his functions that she’d had to start carrying her cell phone, something she didn’t like doing. Cell phones were not a good idea in a busy kitchen.
In the last year, she’d catered so many of his dinners, lunches, and staff parties that she’d had to hire more staff. When she’d suggest using the crew she’d trained to handle smaller contracts, he’d insisted she do it herself. Then instead of mingling with his guests, he’d be glued to her hip. She’d begun to think Victoria had screwed him over so badly that he didn’t trust anyone, including her, of all people. Complaining about the money he’d thrown her way was stupid, but she’d had to turn down other clients to keep up with Duncan’s contracts. If he ever decided to become a hermit, she’d have some serious ass-kissing to do. Their new company didn’t launch until July. As busy as it was going to keep her, she still had to earn a living from now until then.
Picking up her pace, she crossed her arms for warmth. Damn, Vegas nights could be cold. She’d reached Maggie’s gates and was about to punch in the code to get inside when a small prickling in the back of her mind made her stop. A sick feeling in her stomach, either from exhaustion or the realization that she perhaps was one big fat dummy, made her turn around. The prickling grew and grew until she found herself banging on Duncan’s front door, and she kept banging until he answered.
“Lizzy? Are you all right?”
She shoved her way past him.
“Did you change your mind?” he asked, the hope in his question only adding fuel to her fire.
“You prick,” she shouted. Thank goodness the staff had the weekend off. Hearing about another dead body might seriously traumatize them.
Duncan took a step back. Good thing too, because she was ready to smack him.
“What did I do?” As if he didn’t know.
“You screwed me over, that’s what you did.”
“Wait, what? Is this about this afternoon?”
“No.” Then she thought about it. “Yes. And no,” she repeated. “This last year. All these parties. I thought you were trying to get over Victoria. Poor Duncan, too stupid to see his wife was a colossal bitch.”
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” She wasn’t going to feel sorry for him. “All the dumbass lunch meetings in your office, staff mingles, I figured you were being a great boss.”
“I—I was. I mean, I was trying to be.”
“Liar,” she said, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Were you deliberately sabotaging my business? Shrinking my client list to one—you?”
“No,” he said, attempting to sound incredulous. The jerk. “Why would I do that?”
“Who the hell knows what’s in that rocket science of a brain of yours?” She jabbed him again. “Maybe you wanted me in your back pocket for this catering idea of yours. How could I not see it?” she asked herself, circling the grand foyer or risk punching him.
“Lizzy,” he pleaded.
“Don’t Lizzy me, with that”—she flicked her wrist—“pathetic, cute puppy dog thing you’ve got going on. If something happened to you, I’d be screwed.”
“I know, but the police aren’t going to charge me—”
“Police? That’s the least of it. Do you have any idea how many contracts I’ve had to turn down to become your personal caterer?” She did another circle of the foyer, grateful she’d worn sneakers. Heels clicking on the marble would have driven her insane. She yanked her ponytail out. “You had me deliver you lunch,” she screeched. “And I did it. I am not a delivery service.” She poked him again, then watched as he rubbed his chest, making her poke him again.
She took a deep breath. She was not a violent person. And yet she wanted to strangle him… and herself. She’d become his lackey. She’d felt so bad about Victoria, she’d gone out of her way—out of her business common sense mind—to make him feel better. And all the while he’d been giving her bogus catering jobs. Why? Had he needed an experienced caterer for his new business idea? Had he wanted her name? People knew her in Vegas but nowhere else. It was time she found the truth. And he was going to tell her if it was the last thing he did.
“Explain to me the one thousand, and one”—she raised an index finger—“catering jobs you asked of me this last year. And if you”—she forced her jaw to unclench—“think to bullshit me I’ll…I’ll…I’ll show you Zanadoo.”
“Maybe we need to sit down,” he suggested, looking rightfully scared.
She crossed her arms and scowled. She might only be five two, but a dumpy strip club had taught her how to defend herself.
“I don’t see what you’re so mad about. I paid you.”
True, he paid her well. In fact, too well. “Duncan, what the hell is going on here? You’re filthy rich. You don’t need me to make more money. So all this work, all this extra cash I made, it couldn’t have been so I’d have the capital to invest with you.”
He was rich and he didn’t need her. So why? He’d admitted to having her bring him dinner because he was lonely. Was it as simple as that? He wanted a friend? Her temper deflated a little as confusion seeped in.
He inhaled deeply as if resigned to the inevitable. What was he afraid to tell her?
“I, uh, I had you cater for me so I…I could spend time with you.”
And just like that, her anger disappeared and her heart broke. She wanted to cry for him. He only wanted a friend. Her arms fell to her sides as she brushed off the realization that deep down inside, she’d been hoping for more. “You could have just invited me to a baseball game.” It would have been cheaper.
“You like baseball?”
“No, but isn’t that what friends do? They go to baseball games together.”
“Lizzy, I don’t want to go to baseball games with you.” He took a tentative step toward her.
“No?” He was regarding her with such intensity, her stomach fluttered.
“No,” he said and drew closer.
“Football?” Even this late in their long day, his cologne made her think of cool breezes and sunset escapes to a beach.
“I’m not a fan of football.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, his hand behind her neck.
“Basketball?” she suggested, her voice squeaking.
“Lizzy
.” He said her name softly, reverently. “I don’t want to be—just—your—friend.” He flattened his mouth over hers and everything around them disappeared.
The floor beneath them suddenly vanished as they were carried into a world only they knew existed. This was a place for them and them alone, a place so void of external baggage it heightened her senses to him. She tasted only his lips, inhaled only his scent. That was his breath on her neck. Those were his hands on her body, hers on his. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know it would be him she’d see, his beautiful face.
Duncan was the one to break the kiss, to rupture the spell and bring her back to reality. She should not be reveling in his kisses. She forced herself to look at him. Hoping to see the man she was in business with, instead she simply saw the man. Her treacherous heart saw only the man. This was not good. Had she seen Kyle for what he’d been, the slimy two-faced bastard that he was, she’d never have been made to pay for his mistakes. She pushed away from Duncan, crossed her arms again and forced space between them.
“You’re mad again. Why are you mad again?” That was Duncan. A little confused, and always patient.
She was mad at herself. Had she always known he had a crush on her? “I keep letting this happen. It’s not fair to you.”
He smiled softly and taking her by the hand, led them out of the foyer and into the kitchen. She kept silent. What was he up to?
“This is my favorite room in the house,” he said. “Want to know why?”
“Because Victoria never stepped foot in here.”
He grinned, shaking his head. “True, but she never did laundry and the laundry room doesn’t do it for me. This is my favorite room because I fell in love with you in this kitchen. I love you, Lizzy.”
She should be surprised by his proclamation, shocked even, not to mention totally freaked out. She wasn’t. Instead, her heart began to pound and not in a bad way.
“Lizzy?”
“Yes.” Why wasn’t she freaked out?
“I just told you I love you.”
“I heard.” Thump, thump, thump.
He released her hands and leaned back on the granite countertop. “Aren’t you going to tell me we’re business partners and we can’t have anything more?”
She could… should tell him that. Why wasn’t she freaked out? “You want me to?”
“No, but it’s what I was expecting.”
That made sense. So why wasn’t she? She looked around the kitchen she’d spent so much of her time in. She’d cooked for him, remembered how happy it made her to see him eat her food, to know he enjoyed it. At functions, from the corner of her eye, she’d watched him pop one of her canapés, revel in his satisfied grin, then have to look away when he licked his lips and wished it was her he was tasting. Was that it then? Was she responding like a horny schoolgirl?
Duncan was a good-looking guy. Smart too. Rich. He was nice, honest, trustworthy… loyal, everything a woman could ask for, and then some. Kyle was a punk masquerading as a man. Two very different people. She herself was different now. She’d grown, could stand on her on two feet.
A slow smile began at the corner of Duncan’s mouth. When it reached his eyes, she resisted the urge to curl herself around him. “You,” he said, like the proverbial cat who’d swallowed the canary, “love me too.”
Again, she said nothing. She should be arguing with the man. Instead, she stood back and took a hard look at him. They had become more than friends over the last year. She’d simply refused to see it. Better to keep distance between them, better for her because their worlds weren’t meant to collide. They were opposites on so many levels. “Do I love you?” she said, then slapped a hand over her mouth, not having meant to ask that out loud.
His smile widened. “I think you do. And you can’t come up with a good reason not to love me.”
“We’re very different people.”
“Isn’t that what makes things interesting?”
“We’re going into business together.”
“Yes, we are. And if I do something to piss you off, I’m certain I’ll hear about it.”
“If we broke up, I’d still have to see you,” she said. That was a problem.
“If we broke up,” he said, his smile gone, “I’d never recover. Oh, I’d go on living, but the part of my heart you stole while you stood in this kitchen, singing those dumb show tunes, that part would be lost.”
“Duncan—”
“Let me finish. After Victoria’s deception, I never wanted to be that foolish, that naïve again. I told you the divorce changed me. Truth is, if you hadn’t had my back, I’m not sure it would have been for the better. I was angry, humiliated, and determined to prove I was no sucker. My behavior boarded on destructive. Then you came along. I’ve always known I was smart. You made me believe it was a good thing. You made me believe in myself.”
Before she knew it, he’d picked her up, spun her, and sat her on the island. Then he moved between her legs. “I said you stole my heart. Truth is I willingly gave it to you, knowing I might never get it back, because by doing so, you made me better. I’m not the same person who married Victoria, but because of it I’ve grown. You’re not that same trusting kid. You’re tougher, stronger, wiser. And you know it. But you’re scared.”
“I’ve never been afraid of anything in my life.” She’d taken on what life dealt her and lived through it.
“You’re afraid you don’t fit into my world. Lizzy, I don’t fit into my world. This house, this isn’t me. And the most fun I’ve had spending my money is when you helped me redesign this kitchen. And the JCW.” He mumbled something else, but she must have heard him wrong.
“Excuse me, could you repeat what you just said?”
“Later. For now, can you at least admit you have feelings for me too?”
“Of course I have.”
“Real feelings. I know you do.”
“Think you’re so smart.” She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile.
“I have a rocket scientist’s brain. You said so. Now, if it makes you feel better, I’m willing to sign a relationship prenup. If we break up, I’ll give you the company. It will be yours and you’ll never have to see me again.”
“Cute, but I can’t run this company without you, and this whole thing was your idea. I couldn’t take it from you.” Even if he wasn’t kidding, she wasn’t Victoria.
He laughed. “Wow. Victoria couldn’t wait to take everything from me and you aren’t willing to take what I’d give you.”
“It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Then you can buy me out,” he said, very sincerely.
“Fair market value?” she teased, trying not to laugh. Were they really negotiating the terms of their breakup? Before deciding if she’d even give them a chance?
“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Do we have a deal?” He waited for her to shake his hand.
The doorbell rang, startling them both.
Chapter Eight
Duncan looked at his watch. “Who do you think it is?”
“Considering the late hour, my guess is the police. Didn’t you say they’d brought Harris in for questioning? Maybe he confessed to killing Victoria.” Still, it could have waited until morning.
“Let’s go see then.” He lifted her off the counter and onto her feet. “We’ll table this discussion for later.”
Yes, she was certain they would. What exactly she was going to say was what stumped her. And as they made their way through the house and to the front door, Lizzy knew one thing for certain. Her feelings for him were beyond ‘like.’
Duncan opened the front to find Lieutenant Cooper standing there. “Lieutenant, come in.”
“Lizzy, I’m surprised to find you here,” Cooper said, his eyebrow quirked.
“I was actually on my way to Maggie’s when you rang the bell.” It was only a half a lie. She had intended to sleep at Maggie’s.
“Well, I’m glad you’re both here. First, I’ll need that fl
ash drive you pilfered out of your wife’s condo.”
“Actually, that’s Duncan’s condo.” In case the police got any ideas about charging him.
“I’ll get it,” Duncan offered and left the foyer.
“Lizzy, you can relax. I know you’re not sleeping with the guy. I had a chat with Maggie and she assured me nothing is going on between the two of you.”
Why did she suddenly feel like Rudolph in a snowstorm, a red beacon amongst all this white marble? Duncan thankfully returned quickly, putting the flash drive in the plastic bag the lieutenant held open.
“It’s evidence,” Cooper said, answering their unspoken question.
“Did my finance officer confess to killing my wife?”
Lizzy wanted to wrap her arms around him and make him forget that Harris Turner was a backstabbing asshole.
“No. But Turner did admit to stealing the money. He’s been charged and is awaiting arraignment in the morning.”
“Did he also admit to anyone helping him?” Duncan asked, his shoulders tense as he waited for Cooper to tell him yet another of his employees was a disloyal thief.
“That’s why I’m here. I wanted you to hear it from me and not on the news in the morning. We’ve made an arrest for your wife’s murder. Mr. Moore, it was Beth Ferguson.”
Silence.
“Duncan?” Lizzy was certain he’d heard the lieutenant, but from his blank stare he appeared too stunned to say anything. She couldn’t blame him.
“We confirmed the DNA found under your wife’s fingernails belonged to Mrs. Ferguson. She claims it’s from the scuffle in your offices.”
“And you don’t think it is,” he finally said.
“We considered it plausible, then Lizzy emailed the photos on this flash drive.” He lifted the plastic baggie. “You gave your office staff a trip to Fiji for New Year’s Eve?”
“They work hard. It was a holiday bonus.”
“That’s very generous of you. My boss gives us a tin of coffee. Anyway, the shots of Turner in bed with your wife, did you wonder who took those?”
“Lizzy and I questioned it, but I assumed they had a self-timing camera.”
“No. We were able to enhance the shot and pick up the mirror in the background.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a four-by-eight picture. “Do you know who this is?” He passed it to Duncan.