The Ultimate Romance Box (6 Bestselling Romance Novels)

by Eckhart, Lorhainne

  “How did you know where to find us?” Dante asked.

  “It’s my job to know everything,” Ladd said with an important smile.

  “You mean Julia called you?” Alexa asked sweetly.

  “Huh? How did you know?”

  “It’s my hobby to watch people.”

  Ladd frowned. “She was in her car and saw you turn into the marina.”

  “Really?” Interesting lie. Julia was certainly not in her car while entertaining Tom.

  The detective ignored her and addressed Dante. “I checked with Tom who said you took your boat out.” He settled on the bench across from Alexa. “I… uh… I…” He shifted on the bench, and his eyes crossed as his gaze darted to her breasts. “I mean…”

  With his button down shirt and his long dark pants that started to tent in his lap, he made her feel naked. Dirty old man.

  For a second, she enjoyed seeing him lose his composure. Detective or not, he was just a man with lascivious thoughts, like so many she’d met.

  She suppressed a sarcastic smile. “Why don’t I cover up and let you collect your thoughts.”

  “Sure.”

  She went down to the cabin, slipped on a halter and a pair of shorts, and emerged up on the deck. Ladd wiped his sweaty forehead.

  “So, you were saying?” She sat in her previous place.

  “I received the results from the lab. Steve Bairey’s drowning was caused by the mixture of Valium and alcohol, and the high temperature of the hot tub.” Dante’s gaze met hers and he nodded. So far so good.

  “But the only fingerprints found on the Valium bottle were yours.”

  “Hey.” She jerked forward. Was he accusing her by any chance?

  “There is more. There was no trace of Valium in the carafe of Amaretto.” Alexa released the breath she’d been holding. “But the glass Steve drank from contained traces of Valium.”

  “No way.” A lump grew in Alexa’s throat preventing her from saying more. There must be a logical explanation. He couldn’t be accusing her. Could he?

  Ladd rubbed his chin. “There’s no doubt about it in the coroner’s mind, and in mine, that we’re dealing with a crime. My job is to find who did it and why. Care to explain how your Valium pills ended up in Steve’s glass?”

  Darn, he was accusing her. She needed a logical explanation fast.

  Her brain froze. No explanation and not even a simple thought.

  Dante blinked once to signify she should let him handle the situation. He was her lawyer and she trusted him so much. “I assume you’re going to put that question to many other people.”

  “I’m going to, but so far the evidence we have points at ....” The detective hesitated while glancing at Alexa, who stared at her folded hands, unfolded them, and scratched the red polish on one of her nails.

  “Mr. Ladd, we both know it doesn’t mean anything,” Dante retorted, his gaze never wavering from Alexa. “Any one about to commit a crime would wear latex gloves and make sure he doesn’t leave fingerprints.” He wished he could take her into his arms to ease the blow caused by the detective’s accusation.

  “I’m going to interview every person who may have a reason or a motive. Let’s look at your motive, Mrs. Partson. Steve has been harassing you. You didn’t want to report him to the police to avoid gossip. Drugging him was an easy way to get rid of Bairey. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “No, you’re wrong.” Raising her head, Alexa straightened her shoulders. Her frown relaxed, and she studied the detective with speculative eyes as if he were the one on trial. He returned her look with more suspicion. “The glass he drank from was intended for me.”

  “This is what you want us to believe, Mrs. Partson.”

  “I told you everything I know,” she added. “Since I was so candidly honest, I’m surprised you suspect me. With your experience, you should realize it’s completely out of character for me to plot such a crazy thing.”

  Pleased to see that she had recovered from her initial shock, Dante nodded his approval. Whatever her internal turmoil, she had controlled herself in front of the detective.

  Ladd arched a brow. “You’d be surprised how many out-of-character things people do when pushed to their limits.”

  “But think about it. Why would I do something so stupid? He came to tell me he was leaving for Atlanta. He was going far anyway.”

  Dante stifled a proud smile, knowing she was seething inwardly and yet facing up to her problems.

  “So you said.” Detective Ladd didn’t seem convinced. “I’ll have to check Bairey’s decision to go to Atlanta, with his wife and his roommate. Cantari, can we go back to the marina? Meanwhile, Mrs. Partson, why don’t you tell me again everything you know about Steve Bairey?”

  ****

  Forty-five minutes later, they walked into their building’s lobby. The detective signed the guest registry book at the front desk. “You go ahead. I’ll stop and talk to Bairey’s roommate.”

  “Speak of the devil. Here’s Carter Morton saving you the trouble of looking for him.” Dante tilted his chin toward the plain man exiting the elevator with a newspaper in hand. Everything was average about Carter. His height, build, coloring, thinning brown hair, the squinting eyes hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses, the thin lips pressed in a serious line—even his beige pants and white shirt.

  “How can he remain so pale, when it’s 90o out, and the sun is so bright?” Alexa whispered.

  “This man is an enigma. Have you ever seen him smile?”

  “No. I don’t know how Steve managed to live and work with him for two years.”

  Ladd went straight to the newcomer. “Mr. Morton, I’m Detective Bob Ladd. I have questions to ask you.”

  “Shoot,” Carter said. Not a line in his face shifted.

  “You were Steve Bairey’s business partner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where’s your office?”

  “In Broward.”

  “Steve shared your apartment?”

  “He rented a bedroom and its bathroom. I asked him not to bring girlfriends to my place.” His gaze rested on Alexa.

  “Hey,” Alexa snapped. “Don’t look at me like that. I was never Steve’s girlfriend.”

  Not a muscle moved in Carter’s face as he kept staring at her.

  Poor Alexa. She crumpled the edge of her sexy halter-top. Now was not the time to argue with Carter, whether he was loyal to Steve or acting out of sheer selfishness to distract any suspicion away from him.

  “When are you moving your office to Atlanta, Mr. Morton?” Ladd asked.

  Carter slowly turned his head toward the detective. “Why would I move my office to Atlanta?”

  Ladd’s gaze shifted to Alexa and came back to Carter. “Weren’t you moving to Atlanta with your partner?”

  “No one was moving anywhere. Not me and not Steve. Why would we move a successful business?” Carter shrugged. “Where did you get that fable of Atlanta?”

  “But Steve told me…” Alexa started. Her voice faded, and her eyes widened in stunned disbelief as two pairs of eyes glared at her.

  Carter’s denial sounded so convincing, and Ladd certainly looked convinced that she’d lied.

  “Easy to throw it on Steve, now that you got rid of him.” With a brusque move, Carter opened the newspaper’s front page, displaying a few pictures that lashed disgust in Dante’s gut—a shot of Steve, another of the Blue Waves building, a third of Steve between Julia and Alexa. “You’ve brought shame and trouble upon our building with your antics and lies,” Carter continued with a scathing look.

  “Who’s been talking to the press? Who’s been spreading lies?” Dante roared.

  Carter shrugged. “Anyone here could have told them the juicy gossip about the former Mrs. Partson and her lover.”

  Dante raised a fist. Before he could punch Carter, the detective snatched his arm in his beefy hands. “Mr. Cantari, don’t complicate things. You wouldn’t want more gossip in the newspapers.”


  A deathly pale Alexa stared at the newspaper. Her lips parted, but she didn’t utter a sound.

  If the detective hadn’t stopped him, Dante would have smashed Carter to the ground and hammered his head with blows to teach him never to dirty Alexa’s good name again. He dredged up a deep breath to calm himself. No, it wouldn’t help to have his name in the tabloids, with a picture of him punching a man. Nonna would have a heart attack. He promised himself to control his temper.

  “Mr. Morton, I have more questions to ask you. Let’s sit in here for a moment.” The detective pointed to the library door. “And you two, wait for me in the lobby. I’m not finished with you yet,” he added, his tone sharp, his gaze decisive.

  “Take your time, we’ll be here.” Dante spat the words, before leading Alexa toward the luxurious lobby where antique tables, plush sofas, and gilded mirrors lent an aura of elegance to the modern lobby with marble floor and high ceilings. He sat next to her on the love seat at the farthest corner, out of earshot.

  “Dante, this is crazy.” She rubbed her throat with frantic strokes. “Why is Carter lying?”

  Dante scratched his forehead pensively. A stack of newspapers sat on the reception desk. He went to grab one. Alexa leaned to read with him. “Oh God, did you see this?” She pointed to the line mentioning that Steve Bairey had shared a drink at his fiancée’s condo just before drowning. “Disgusting. They labeled me as his fiancée. Now, it’s going to be all over town.”

  Exactly the type of scandal Dante would rather have avoided. He flexed his fingers and cracked his knuckles. “Someone told them that Steve was in your apartment for a drink, but there’s no mention in the paper of his moving to Atlanta. Are you sure you understood Steve right?”

  She jerked back, her hands fisting in her lap. “Of course, I did.”

  “Couldn’t Steve have meant he was just taking a trip to Atlanta?”

  “He said he was moving. I heard it loud and clear. Don’t tell me you, too, believe Carter now?”

  “I’m just trying to make sense of all that. Why would Carter so blatantly lie?”

  “He hates me.”

  “Why?” The sorrow in her confused eyes tightened his gut. There should be a rational reason, some lead he’d missed so far.

  “He’d invited me out two years ago. I refused. I was still in shock after my divorce. He tried later, to no avail. I couldn’t get myself to trust any man. He tried to kiss me and I got upset. He didn’t insist, but he’s avoided me ever since.”

  “Does he have a girlfriend now?”

  “I don’t think so. He dated Dianna for a year, then she dumped him for Greg.”

  Dante couldn’t suppress a scoff. “This building is like a dating agency. Who else is dating whom?” He sobered at Alexa’s pained look. “Sorry, Alexa.” How could he forget for even a second that this was no fun time for her?

  Locked behind closed doors with the detective, Carter had personal reasons to denigrate her. Twice a rejected suitor, he certainly didn’t keep her high on his list of good friends. Would Ladd believe him?

  Definitely. Dante took one look at Ladd when he strode toward them. Yes, the detective had defected from their camp to the enemy.

  “Mrs. Partson, let’s go to your apartment. We need to talk.”

  Just talk? His tone of voice suggested he was ready to slice Alexa with questions, shred her story to pieces, and drive a spear through her heart.

  She sighed, but stood, her chin high. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  ****

  Dante grasped Alexa’s hand and squeezed her fingers to reassure her. They were icy and limp. Where was her bravado of a moment ago? They rode the elevator in silence and walked to her apartment. She took her key from her beach bag, opened the door, and entered without a backward glance.

  “Have a seat, please.” Always the gracious hostess, she indicated the sofa and chairs, settled herself, and crossed her legs. Dante dropped beside her on the sofa.

  Ladd remained standing, towering above them.

  “Well, you can go ahead. Ask your questions,” she said, her tone impatient.

  “Mrs. Partson, have you accepted Steve’s proposal of marriage?” Ladd’s head and neck jutted toward her, reminding Dante of the pelican that suddenly dove into the ocean to catch a prey.

  “I’ve already told you I didn’t. I slammed the door in his face.”

  “Are you sure? Think carefully. Try to remember.”

  Alexa uncrossed her legs and lurched off the sofa to be at eye level with the detective. “Yes, I am sure. One hundred percent certain. Why do you keep asking?”

  Ladd glared at her. “Do you drink a lot? Often?”

  She gasped. “No, I don’t drink often. Only when someone insists I share a drink. I never drink when alone and I never drink more than a couple of glasses.”

  Dante gritted his teeth, guessing the detective’s line of questioning. Jerk.

  “So you can say that your mind was completely clear when Bairey visited on both days?” Ladd pinned her with a sharp gaze.

  “Yes.”

  “You knew exactly what you were doing? Right?”

  Her mouth opened and closed. She glanced at Dante.

  “Alexa said she was sober. Why do you keep insisting on that point?” Dante asked.

  Ladd kept studying her. “Her statement is so different from her neighbors’ that I’m wondering if there is a reason we may have missed.”

  “How different?”

  “For instance, you heard Carter Morton saying that he and Steve were not moving to Atlanta. I called Mrs. Julia Bairey. Her husband never talked to her about Atlanta.”

  Dante crossed his arms on his chest and gestured to Alexa to let him handle it. “Steve and Julia were practically divorced. He wouldn’t confide in her.”

  The detective’s lips twitching to one side indicated he didn’t swallow that bit of good sense. “There is more. Morton said that Bairey confided he and Alexa were getting married soon.”

  “He’s lying.” Alexa flung her arms up and down against her sides. The nightmare was deepening. Ladd thought she’d plotted a complicated plan to kill Steve. She wasn’t capable of killing a fly. How could she convince them she didn’t put anything in Steve’s drink? It was he who’d spiked her drink in a previous visit. But if she mentioned that, Ladd might think she’d tried to retaliate.

  “Why did you accept Steve’s ring?” The detective’s voice sounded like a metallic clank.

  “Damn it. I didn’t.”

  “I would like to search your apartment.”

  “But—” Alexa started.

  Dante interrupted by raising a hand. “You have no right to do it without a search warrant.”

  “Here it is.” Detective Ladd shoved his hand into his pocket and extracted a folded paper. “A man is dead. As a lawyer, Mr. Cantari, you’ll understand justice must be done.”

  “Go ahead, search,” Alexa shouted. Oh God, I’m losing my mind. “I have nothing to hide,” she added, her tone more subdued as she struggled to control her shaking.

  Ladd opened his briefcase, extracted several items he dumped into his pocket, and donned a pair of latex gloves. “I will start with the bathrooms, then the bedrooms, and later the kitchen.”

  “Can we come with you?” Dante asked.

  “Yes, as long as you don’t touch anything. I may have more questions as I look around.”

  They followed him to the bathroom and stood at the door while he opened the medicine cabinet, unfolded a plastic bag he had in his pocket and threw in it all the bottles and vials. He looked into the wooden cabinet under the sink, read the labels on hairsprays and lotions, peered behind the toilet bowl, and unfolded the neatly arranged towels in the bathroom closet. Moving to the powder room, he repeated his search.

  “Off to the bedroom.” He walked straight to her dresser and pulled the three top drawers. She stiffened as he fumbled through her perfumes, scarves, and belts. When he opened the next series of drawers, he whistled
and glanced at her, his eyes rounding.

  “Careful with her jewelry,” Dante warned as the detective uncovered a black velvet box and raised a diamond and emerald necklace to the light. “You are searching, not assessing her diamonds.”

  Ladd’s eyes narrowed threateningly. He slammed the drawers shut, swiftly explored the lower ones, and strolled to the chest sitting against the wall.

  Alexa cringed. “My intimate things,” she whispered to Dante. “Must he touch my underwear and bras?”

  “You’ll wash everything. Better still, you’ll buy new things.” Dante rubbed her back. She would have relished the soothing effect of his fingers at any other time. But not now. Averting her gaze from the detective, she concentrated on the Intracoastal Canal, a view that had always relaxed her. “You don’t have to fondle every thong,” Dante said, his tone menacing.

  “I knew it.” The detective flung up his hands. One dangled a lace bra and the other clasped a small jewelry box.

  Alexa paled. “What’s that?” She didn’t recognize the gray box. Hers were all black with her initials embroidered or painted in gold, a special luxury touch from her high-class jeweler.

  “It was hidden here.” Ladd demonstrated how the box had nestled inside the curve of the bra.

  Why was that gray box hidden in her lingerie drawer? Her throat tightened so hard she suffocated and inhaled hard. God, what was happening?

  “Ah-ha. A solitaire. Not your usual huge diamonds. Still it makes a beautiful engagement ring. Oh, and here is a small card.” His lips thinned in a long smile that reminded her of a snake. “How sweet. ‘Thank you for taking me. I will love you forever’. Ah-ha. Care to explain, Alexa?”

  She stomped forward, rubbing her neck, and forced the words out. “I don’t understand. I’ve never seen it.”

  Ladd arched ominous eyebrows. “Of course. Why did I expect you to say anything else?”

  No. It’s not true. It’s not happening. How could she stop the shaking? She wrapped her arms around her chest and stared at the box displaying the diamond. A small diamond of poor quality that looked more like a zirconium. A ring she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing after Greg had taught her to appreciate the best. It was that lousy diamond that threatened her right now.