A flash of red at the perimeter of the park caught his eye. He was too far away to be sure, but …
He took hold of Bunny’s shoulders and gently but firmly set her aside. “I think I see her,” he said. “I really have to go.” He shot her a quick smile of apology, then moved around and away from her at a trot.
“I’ll phone Lillian’s for an appointment,” she called out. “It was a pleasure. Until next week, Tucker!”
He waved over his head without looking back. Over my dead body, he thought grimly. Or over Lillian’s. He was definitely no longer in the massage business.
SEVEN
Lainey held a hand to her pounding heart as she continued to tail Damian. She’d originally intended to march straight back to the café and sit Minerva down until the woman listened to what Lainey had to say. She hadn’t checked out the hotel, but she knew Damian was in this up to his beady black eyes. He’d been too evasive … and too cocky earlier. Then it had occurred to her that maybe cornering Damian on her terms might give her the upper hand for a change.
She had no idea what she was going to say to him when she caught up to him, but she was determined to do whatever she had to, praying madly for divine intervention and inspiration.
She’d almost had a heart attack when she heard Tucker’s voice outside the ladies’ room. She thought he’d left, but apparently he’d decided to use the men’s room. Then she heard the unmistakable voice of Bunny MacAfee and had almost choked on a burst of laughter. She’d almost felt sorry for Tucker. Almost. And, much as she hated the fact, she now owed Bunny one. Lainey knew it would take Tucker no small amount of time to extricate himself from Bunny’s clutches, giving Lainey time to make her second getaway from Tucker that afternoon. There would be no escaping a full explanation if he’d caught her back in the park.
Her luck continued on its unprecedented upswing. When she ducked out the other entrance, she spied Damian passing under the wrought-iron archway that formed the side entrance/exit to the park. She’d skirted the building and taken off at a run, putting as many palm trees as possible between herself and the rest rooms … and Tucker. But if Bunny was running true to form, she was quite safe.
Damian was now headed toward a quieter street with shops that paralleled the west side of the park. She just had to come up with a plan before he ducked into one of them. She darted a quick look over her shoulder and exhaled briefly in relief. No Tucker.
Then she looked forward … and plowed directly into Damian.
“Fancy meeting you here.” His heavy sarcasm made it clear that he wasn’t the least surprised. She wondered how long he’d known she was behind him.
As usual, he was dressed in black. He’d upscaled the look since college—crisply pleated dress pants, a designer shirt, and leather shoes—but no matter the price tag, his attire still lent an atmosphere of starkness to his already lean, hungry-looking frame. The motif was completed with a tight-to-the-scalp ponytail, a neatly trimmed Fu Manchu-style beard and mustache, all the same shade as the jet-black eyes that always made her feel ill at ease.
“It’s a free world last I looked,” she said. Stupid, Lainey. Don’t back down. She’d met Damian in college. Even on a campus the size of Penn State, almost everyone had known or heard of Damian Winters. He was a certified genius and widely accepted as a certified nut as well. His crazy moneymaking schemes were the stuff of alumni legend. He had made and lost more money than most people saw in a lifetime, all before his junior year. Fortunately for him, his followers had prospered often enough to keep his neck—and his business—intact until he graduated. Though talk of a public lynching was a constant murmur around the quad.
She hadn’t kept track of him after graduation and had no idea whether he’d gone on to become a brilliant investment counselor or a brilliant scam artist. And until she’d run into him at Sam’s the previous week, she hadn’t cared.
“Yes, it is a blessedly free country,” he agreed, his smile looking somewhat sinister, bracketed as it was by the Fu Manchu. “So unless you have some specific business you’d like to discuss … Or maybe this isn’t about business.”
Lainey shuddered inwardly as his soulless eyes lit up with an interest that had nothing to do with mutual funds. Funny, she’d never once thought of Damian Winters—when she’d thought of him at all—in a sexual or physical way. It had to be Tucker’s influence on her hormones, she decided. When she thought of sex and Tucker, she shuddered, too, although for entirely different reasons.
“It’s business,” she said abruptly. “I’m still not buying that it’s coincidence that you happen to be in Florida.”
He shrugged and grinned, suddenly the picture of charming boyish innocence. The transformation was nothing short of astonishing, his gleaming white teeth reminiscent of Tom Cruise’s. The result was almost as disconcerting as his more sinister countenance. She had always been amazed that, despite his well-publicized less-than-pristine track record, people willingly funded his latest scheme. Until she saw this face. She couldn’t say truthfully what she might have done had he turned this face on her years before. This was the face that made people who should know better part with their money. She knew better than to buy a second of it. At least, thinking of Charlie, she did now.
“People run into folks they haven’t seen in years all the time, all over the place. And a whole lot of people went to Penn, Lainey. There is nothing strange about it.”
“You’re a Philly boy, born and bred,” she countered, switching tactics. He sounded quite sincere, and her heart told her, that at least this time, he was telling the truth. Fortunately, she knew better than to trust her heart. “You told anyone who’d listen, and even those who wouldn’t, that you’d never leave. What changed your mind? Why Florida?”
“I’m older now, Lainey,” he said, a little of the street-smart kid edging into his tone. “Philly is cold. Florida’s warm.”
“And full of old people with nice fat retirement pensions.” Her inference was clear.
He adopted a hurt expression, but Lainey didn’t miss the flash of heat in his eyes. She tamped down the renewed urge to rub her arms. There was nothing sexual in those eyes now. The heat came from anger.
“What are you sayin’? You sayin’ I’m connin’ people here?” As his control slipped, so did his polish. “That I’m a common crook or somethin’? I’m hurt, Lainey.”
“One thing you’ve never been is common, Damian. Let’s just say that finding you residing anywhere near a senior retirement village is a trifle suspect.”
The hurt expression subsided, allowing the heat of anger to shine through. She felt scorched. When he stepped closer, it took all her willpower to stand her ground.
He pointed a finger in the air between them, the gesture almost more powerful for the lack of physical contact. “I resent your implication,” he said quietly. “And I resent your interference. I’m living here because I like peace and quiet. I’m a businessman just doing his job.”
Along with control, his speech had returned to the cultured tones she’d noticed that first day she’d run into him at Sam’s. Now, however, they didn’t sound so dulcet and smooth; they sounded mechanical, empty, and it made her blood run cold.
“And I’m doing quite nicely, thank you,” he continued, his silky tone making her skin crawl. “Now, if you don’t have any real business to discuss with me, then I suggest you leave me to mine. Do we understand each other?”
“As long as you understand that Minerva and her friends are to be left out of your latest business proposition. That’s the only reason I’m here talking to you.”
“Minerva?”
“Minerva Cooper. My aunt. I’ve never accused you of being dumb, Damian, so don’t bother with the clueless routine. I’ve talked to her, I know she’s invested in one of your schemes. Greensleigh Knolls. Does that ring a bell?”
“They’re big girls, Lainey. They can make grown-up decisions.”
She supposed she should feel relieved tha
t he’d finally admitted it. Instead it made her stomach clench.
“I’d ask why you don’t warn your aunt off me,” he continued, “but after getting audited for—now what was it? Tax fraud?” He chuckled unkindly. “I don’t imagine Minerva is taking investment advice from you these days.”
That hurt, not because he knew about it, but because it was the truth. She didn’t ask how he’d heard about Charlie. In Sunset Shores, gossip was the world’s oldest profession.
“It’s hard to make wise decisions when the facts are presented in a way that distorts the risk, Damian. You forget, I’ve witnessed your convoluted scams, I know how you suck people into investing.”
He shrugged, unmoved. “That was more than a decade ago. Things change. I’ve changed. It’s not my fault if people believe what they want to believe. But I guess you know all about that, right?”
“It is if you’re telling them what they want to hear when you damn well know it’s not what they’ll get.”
“I never entered into any agreement that I didn’t feel would pan out. I’m not stupid, Lainey.” She ignored the inference. “They were all legitimate investment ideas.”
“Ideas aren’t the same as sound business strategies. And pan out for whom? You? I’m sure that is of great comfort to those students who gambled away their college tuition money on one of your sure things. Some of those people were my friends.”
“Ah, the great crusader rides to the rescue. I never saw you as the white-charger type, Madelaine Cooper.” He folded his arms and settled his weight on his heels. “In fact, if I recall correctly, you used your business degree to marry into Maitland money.” He stepped closer, his knowing grin making her stomach roll. “And lost it all too. Philly girl from the southside not good enough to hang with the bluebloods, huh, Lainey? Now you’re a divorced waitress dishing out pie to gomers and dating crooked CPAs. Yeah, Lainey, any more brilliant observations you care to dish out along with that pie? You’ve obviously made so much more of yourself than I have.”
His well-aimed attack struck her hard enough to make her feel physically sick, but she used her humiliation to fuel her anger. Hell, it ought to be good for something. “The one thing I learned from the Maitlands is that success isn’t measured by your bank balance alone. You could be a multimillionaire for all I know, but you’re still a weasel.”
His grin widened further as he lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug. “Whatever you say, Lainey. But if I’m a weasel, I’m a rich weasel. And whether or not that makes me successful, I’m happy enough with the wealth.”
“Then why don’t you buy a yacht and take a long cruise. Go spin your stories of sure things to people who can afford to lose.”
“I never promise a sure thing. I’ve put my business degree to good use over the years.”
She didn’t let the unspoken dig affect her this time. “I can imagine. Bigger, more complex schemes designed to dupe more money out of more people. No, you’re not stupid, Damian. And that’s precisely what makes you so dangerous.” His eyes narrowed. For a split second Lainey wondered if she were risking more than her pride by provoking him, but she didn’t know what else to do. Minerva was convinced that he was the answer to her retirement prayers.
Instead of losing control of his temper, he straightened and moved a step away. “People change, Lainey,” he said softly, but the words were as empty and cold as his expression.
She held his gaze. “It’s been my experience that most people generally stay the same. The only thing that changes is one’s ability to judge their true nature.”
His smile made her toes curl until they cramped inside her sneakers. “Good, then we understand each other. Don’t mess in my business, Lainey, and I won’t be forced to mess in yours.”
As before, he gave her no chance to have the last word. He turned and walked away without a backward glance, disappearing around the next corner.
Lainey released a shaky breath.
“I can’t decide whether you’re incredibly gutsy or incredibly stupid.”
Lainey shrieked and spun around. “Tucker!” She clutched her chest, certain her heart was about to burst out of it. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop creeping up on me.”
He took a step closer, looking as fiercely protective as he had back in the park. Only this time his concern was aimed at her.
“And I’d appreciate you telling me what in the hell is going on around here.”
The heat in his eyes was most definitely from anger. So why was her reaction to him completely the opposite of her reaction to Damian? The last thing she felt at the moment was chilled or revolted.
However he affected her, she was still confused and more than a little upset by Damian. Now was not the time to go another round with Tucker. “It doesn’t involve you, Tucker. I’m handling it.” She tried to shove her way past him, but he grabbed her elbows and held on tight. She couldn’t break free, but that didn’t stop her from tugging hard. “Bullying me is not going to get you what you want.”
He drew her up tight against him, forcing her head back in order to look him in the eyes. “What do you know about what I want?” he asked. The soft menace in his voice and in his eyes should have alarmed her. It didn’t.
She trusted him, she realized. He was upset and frustrated, but he would never hurt her.
She looked into his eyes and choked back a semihysterical laugh. And how the hell would you know, Lainey? she asked herself in disgust. Damian’s barbs had plunged deeper than even he had known, ripping a jagged hole in her nice fantasy that she could truly escape her past, letting all the fears and insecurities she’d neatly tucked away spew forth, overwhelming her. Humiliating her.
And to complete her shameful descent, her eyes burned and filled. She would not cry, not in front of this man. Pouring all of the unvented emotion she had into one balled-up knot of energy, she yanked out of his grip, stumbling backward a few steps when she succeeded. Her hands flew up to ward off his automatic attempt to help.
“Don’t touch me, Tucker Morgan. I’ve been pushed around enough for one day. I’m going home.” This time when she walked past him he left her alone. When he silently fell into step beside her, she didn’t know whether to scream in frustration or fall into his arms and weep out all of her anger and indecision and self-pity. Neither was acceptable, so she pulled herself together and continued walking in silence.
He remained silent, matching his pace to hers, giving her much-needed time to work things through in her head. His big, solid body and quiet confidence provided a surprisingly deep sense of comfort. It was deceptively simple, she thought as they crossed in front of the park and headed up Main Street toward the café. Sort of like a big brother who was smart enough to let his sister fight her own battles, but loyal enough to make sure she got home safely.
But that analogy wasn’t quite right. He made her feel many things, none of them sisterly. So what category did her feelings fall into? Her head kept casting him as an opponent, yet her heart staunchly maintained that he was an ally. Why couldn’t she trust her heart and ask him to help her? Was it his motives she suspected? Or her own judgment? And why in the hell was she thinking about Tucker when she should be thinking of some way to intervene in Damian’s scheme without jeopardizing her health or anyone else’s? Her steps slowed as that last part sunk in.
Until that afternoon she’d only considered Damian fiscally dangerous. Would he actually harm one of them? Back there on the sidewalk she’d been thinking of her own skin, but it occurred to her now that there was a much easier way for him to get to her than a direct threat. No, she thought immediately, he wouldn’t go that far. His forte was smooth talking, not bone breaking. She doubted he had changed in that respect. Even so, she stopped, her skin clammy and cold despite the warm, muggy afternoon air.
There was a sigh of impatience, then a very quiet “Let me help you.”
A gentle touch on her shoulder brought her head up. “He’s never been the violent typ
e. I don’t think he’d hurt one of them. Do you?” she asked, and in doing so she realized she had made her decision. She was asking for help. She was going to trust him. At least this far.
Tucker didn’t need to ask her to explain. He’d over-heard enough of her conversation with Damian to have a clear idea of what had made her skin all clammy and her face lose its color. It had finally occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one who could get hurt. Letting her come to that conclusion on her own when he wanted to shake it into her had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. And looking into her eyes, her trusting eyes, the most worthwhile too.
“As you said back there, he’s not stupid.” He wanted to stroke her, to see the color come back into her skin, the impulsive spark leap in her eyes. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I doubt he’d risk whatever he has cooked up by harming a potential investor. But he’s smart enough to try to make you believe he might if he thinks it will get you to back off until he’s done working his scam.”
“It is a scam, Tucker.” Her eyes were bright now, but with desperation. As if she thought he wouldn’t believe her.
“I think so too,” he said truthfully. It was the right thing to say. She relaxed, albeit slightly. He couldn’t stand it; he slipped his hands free and held one out to her. “Walk. Next to a long drive on a winding country road, it’s the best way to clear the cobwebs and think.” He waited an eternal heartbeat, then she slid her hand into his. He noticed she didn’t look at him as she turned and they began walking. He didn’t mind. Her hand was warming in his. It was a good start.
“Weasels like Damian are pretty easy to spot but also slippery to catch.”
“Then why doesn’t Minerva see—” She broke off, and a quick glance showed that bright spots of color had returned to her cheeks.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and wondered again at the deep, abiding need he seemed to have to care for and protect her. These feelings weren’t remotely professional; in fact, they were more intensely personal than anything he’d ever felt before. “Professional” also didn’t describe the things he would very much like to do to Damian if he ever caught the man so much as breathing in Lainey’s direction again.
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