Temptation Bay (A Windfall Island Novel)

by Anna Sullivan

  Jessi saw it, too, and she wasn’t cutting him any slack.

  “Maggie tried to get me out the door early, but I was stuck with a customer,” she said, “trying to carve out some time for Maggie to fly him down to D.C. Her schedule is pretty intense, but that’s her schedule.”

  “And I jumped to conclusions.”

  “Don’t let her fool you. She’s not nearly as…”

  “Hard?”

  “It’s not the word I was looking for, but okay.” Jessi headed for the kitchen. “Maggie isn’t nearly as hard as she comes off.”

  Dex followed her, leaning on the jamb of the wide doorway, watching as she picked up a wooden spoon and stirred something bubbling on the stove. “What is she?”

  Jessi shook her head, turned to face him. “Not my place to say.”

  “Loyalty.”

  She smiled, a small wobbly smile that made Dex wonder just what Maggie had done for Jessi to inspire that kind of complex emotion, gratitude mixed with God knew what else. Sure, women were emotional creatures, but there was something deeper than friendship between these two. Sisters, Dex decided, and not because of an accident of birth. By choice. The kind of sisters who wouldn’t keep secrets from one another.

  Unless they could be convinced it was the right thing to do.

  “What’s going on in there?” Jessi asked, pointing her spoon at his forehead.

  “What goes on in any man’s mind?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have made some of the choices I made.”

  “Sounds like there’s an interesting story there.”

  “One you’ve probably heard a thousand times from a thousand women who let the wrong kind of man matter to them,” Jessi said quietly, her eyes shifting toward the doorway where her son had disappeared.

  “Now,” she went to the fridge and pulled out a serving plate, pulling plastic wrap off and handing it to him. “Take this into what I laughingly refer to as the dining room, and let me get the rest of this finished up.”

  Dex carried the plate in to the small space off the living area where a table only big enough to seat four sat, nipping a cube of cheese as he set it down.

  “You’re gonna ruin your appetite,” piped a voice from behind him. “And you’re not supposed to eat with your fingers.”

  Dex turned, took in Maggie’s amused expression before he concentrated on his accuser. “How about hamburgers?”

  “That’s not a hamburger,” Benji pointed out with the bluntness and logic of the very young.

  “He got you there, Keegan. Good going, Champ.” Maggie held her palm up, high enough that Benji had to jump to make the high five. Which only made it more fun, judging by the peal of his laughter. “You have to watch out for guys like this, Benj. First it’s cheese and then they move on to the big stuff.”

  Benji’s eyes went wide. “What’s the big stuff?”

  Maggie hunkered down, her smile so open, her eyes so bright, there was no way for Dex to ignore the way his pulse lurched, especially when she slid him a teasing look as she said to Benji, “Could be just about anything, but I’d keep a close eye on your Legos if I were you.”

  “Great,” Dex said as Benji rushed off to make sure his building blocks were still where he’d left them. “The kid thinks I’m a cat burglar now.”

  “Cat burglar? There’s that ego again.”

  “If I were a thief, I wouldn’t be a common one.”

  “No.” Maggie rose to her feet. “I don’t suppose you would.”

  Jessi came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel and looking like Betty Crocker in her cute little apron. “Did someone say cat, as in are you two fighting like cats and dogs again?”

  Maggie, for once, had no quippy comeback.

  Dex decided it was better to change the subject, even if he’d have liked to know what Maggie had been—and still was—thinking, as she studied him.

  “No wonder every kid in the village wants to move in here,” he said.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Everybody. Not only is Benji an irresistible kid, but you’re the kind of mother everyone should’ve had.”

  Maggie smiled. “She never raises her voice at dirty footprints or spilt milk, and there are always cookies.”

  “Nice to know my publicist is working overtime,” Jessi said, but her cheeks pinked becomingly as she returned to the kitchen.

  “You should give up your life of glamour at the airport and open a daycare,” Dex called after her. “You’d probably make a killing.”

  Maggie shook her head. “More like she’d end up babysitting for free half the time. She’s too soft-hearted.”

  “That’s not a little self-serving?”

  “Well, it’s true… and a little self-serving, since I couldn’t run Solomon Charters without her.”

  “This is really entertaining,” Jessi said, coming back with her arms laden with serving dishes and a face like a storm cloud, “but do I get a vote?”

  Maggie backed off immediately, but Jessi was already swinging around to confront Dex. “For the record, Mr. Keegan, I don’t need you to defend me.”

  “So we’re back on formal footing.”

  “We’ve never been off it. I invited you to my home for dinner, despite the secrets you’re clearly keeping.”

  “Or maybe because of them?”

  “Mom,” Benji said, coming over to curl an arm around her.

  “It’s all right, kiddo,” Jessi said, “Why don’t you go wash up for dinner.” When he hesitated, she gave him a little nudge. “Go on.”

  He went, but he kept a wary eye on Dex the whole way out of the room.

  “You’re right,” Jessi said to Dex, “but you’re also a guest, and it’s not very polite of you to attack my best friend.”

  “Jessi—”

  She held up a hand. “And just so you know, I don’t work for Maggie. I’m her partner. Maggie insisted on giving me a percentage of the business—”

  “Jessi,” Maggie said again, her face going a mortified red.

  “She made me a partner,” Jessi continued, “because she claims she’s hopeless at the business end.”

  “I gave you a percentage because you work just as hard as I do.”

  “But we both know you could handle anything you put your mind to.”

  “The truth is I don’t want to. I’d rather be in the air or tinkering with an engine. So this works out for both of us. And you’d only take ten percent.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dex said, and truly meant it. “I didn’t intend to cause trouble.”

  “Didn’t you?” Maggie whipped back around, pinned him with a glare. “You waltz in here and stir the pot, then step back to see what boils up to the surface.”

  “What choice do I have?” Dex went toe to toe with her. “No one will answer my questions.”

  Maggie crossed her arms, pinned him with a look. “I have questions, too. Questions like what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Having dinner, I thought.”

  “On Windfall,” Maggie shot back. “You’ve been here almost a week, grilling people, wandering around, wanting favors—”

  He knew by the way she broke off, by the glance she shot Jessi, that she hadn’t told her best friend. Interesting.

  “Why don’t you cut the client-lawyer privilege crap and tell us what’s going on?”

  “I’d really love to hear the answer to that,” Jessi said. “Just like I’d love to know what you and Dex were talking about so intently the other day.”

  Maggie clamped her mouth shut, going sullen.

  “If you value our friendship,” Jessi said.

  “That’s a low blow, Jess.” Maggie crossed her arms. “But maybe—”

  Dex took Maggie by the arm, effectively shutting her up, since she rounded on him. “Can I have a word with you?”

  She tried to get loose, but he only took a firmer grip. “Now,” he said, catching her enough off guard that he was able to pull her past Jessi
and out the front door.

  Maggie jerked free, cocking her arm back.

  Dex stared her down. “I told you what would happen the next time you hit me.”

  She kicked him instead, stalking for the door when he bent to rub at his shin.

  He snagged her around the waist, dragging her back. She didn’t go easily. It was a shame, he thought as they wrestled on Jessi’s front walk, that he couldn’t take more time to enjoy the way she felt against him, the sleek curves, the wiry strength of her body, the way she smelled like spring, with just a hint of motor oil thrown in. And then she nearly got in a killing blow.

  Dex ignored his libido, twisting sideways to keep her from making it a moot point. “If you stop—” he dodged a fist, “—for one second—” he blocked her knee with his thigh, “—and listen to me—” she tried to head butt him.

  He gave up on trying not to hurt her, twisting her around to put her back to his front, and banding his arms around her so that hers were trapped under his. She tried to stomp on his feet, then kicked back, but he managed to avoid injury.

  “Knock it off or you’re going to take us both down, and if we go down, I’m not doing the manly thing and falling on the bottom to spare you.”

  She only struggled harder.

  “Keep it up; you’re giving Jessi and Benji a hell of a show.”

  “Bastard,” she spat. But she stopped struggling

  Dex might have been sorry to let her go, if the muscles in his arms hadn’t been trembling on the verge of exhaustion. “When I asked you to get Meeker’s journals, you told me you wouldn’t help me without an explanation. And then you made it impossible for me to get them without you. Are you going to behave and listen to me?”

  She nodded once, stiffly.

  He let her go, making sure to move out of the way, just in case. He’d spent two long days arguing with his conscience, and although necessity had won, he still hated asking her to take on Meeker again. After wrestling with her, though, he figured he should pity Meeker. If the man was stupid enough to lay a hand on her, he’d deserve what he got.

  “Talk,” she said, all ice, “or we can go inside and talk there.”

  “I need your word that you’ll keep what I’m about to tell you a secret. Even from Jessi.”

  “And if I don’t agree, you won’t talk.” Maggie hissed out a breath. “Fine.”

  “You know I came here for a case,” Dex began.

  “As a lawyer or a private eye?”

  Dex smiled grimly. He should have known she’d figure that out. And he had to give her the truth. A lie would only work against him at this point—and he found he didn’t want to lie to her anymore. “Private investigator. Small-time stuff, mostly.”

  She crossed her arms, her mood lightening perceptibly. “Taking pictures of cheating spouses?”

  “I’ve handled some insurance cases, too. But, yeah, mostly it was divorce work.” Which it galled him to admit, almost as much as the next confession. “If not for this case I’d have to seriously think about a career change.”

  “I’m sorry, Dex.”

  His gaze shot to hers, and even in the dim light he could see she meant it. Her sympathy surprised him, but not half as much as the relief he felt. He wanted Maggie’s good will, sure, but this relief felt more personal, and nothing about this case was supposed to be personal. Hell of a time, he thought, for Maggie to show her sensitive side.

  “If you wanted to be a PI even half as bad as I wanted the sky, I can only imagine how terrible you must feel at the idea of giving it up.”

  And she’d surprised him again, or maybe this time he’d surprised himself. Somewhere in the years of chasing liars and cheats he’d forgotten how much he wanted to help people—until this case, and even then he’d been more focused on the goal and the salvation, the vindication it might bring him, than how amazing it felt to be doing what he loved.

  “A couple of weeks ago,” he continued, feeling like a light had been turned on inside him, “a friend in Boston gave me a call. Alec is a lawyer—a real, high-profile lawyer—and he’s the only person who knows why I got into this business in the first place.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, Dex. It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s the same reason I became a cop… and the same reason I stopped being a cop. Police departments all over the country are down-sizing, so the chance I’d get to be a detective…” He broke off, shook his head at his own foolishness. Maggie Solomon showed one iota of interest, of sympathy, and here he was baring his soul. “Long story short, I became a private investigator because I want to find people, those who’ve been taken against their will, those who’ve become lost through no fault of their own, those who don’t want to be found.”

  “What kind are you looking for here?”

  “The kind who doesn’t know they’re lost.”

  Maggie scrubbed her hands through her short hair, pacing away a few steps only to whirl back, her breath steaming on the frigid air. “Stop talking in riddles and just tell me what’s going on.”

  “I was hired to find any possible descendants of a baby who went missing from her nursery in 1931. She was ten months old.”

  “Eugenia Stanhope,” Maggie said. It wasn’t a question.

  “I should have known you’d make the connection.”

  “I shouldn’t have had to guess,” she fired back.

  Dex rubbed the back of his neck, knowing it was best to let her work through her anger at her own pace.

  “The Perdition exploded and sank right out there with Eugenia on board.” Maggie pointed to the dark expanse of ocean shining in the sliver of moon beyond the pale lights of the village. “It’s still the biggest thing to happen around here in a hundred years—that and Prohibition. And the two go hand in hand, since the ship was docked out there to offload illegal liquor.”

  “I doubt you’d find many in this country who didn’t break that particular law.”

  Maggie wrapped her arms around herself, but not, Dex thought, to keep warm. “Running booze is worlds apart from kidnapping babies. I don’t believe any Windfaller would be involved, even back then when bootlegging meant the difference between life and death to the people here.”

  “I didn’t come to Windfall Island to point fingers. I just want to find the truth,” Dex said, exhausted suddenly, tired of his contention with Maggie, tired of fighting his attraction to her, weary of pitting his will against an entire population of the most stubborn people he’d ever met.

  “If your aim is to find the missing,” Maggie said into the heavy silence, “you picked a doozy of a first case.”

  He looked over, surprised that he saw in her eyes what he’d heard in her voice. “Sympathy?”

  “Understanding,” she corrected, her voice warmer now. “I live here, remember?”

  “Who could forget?”

  “Sympathy?” she threw back at him.

  “Pity,” he said with a smile. “Do you know the rest of Eugenia’s story?”

  “I know she was kidnapped by a nursemaid.”

  “Some say she was kidnapped, others say that the maid only wanted to have a little fun, and when she wasn’t allowed to have the night off, she took the baby with her on board the Perdition, not intending any harm. It’s widely believed they both died when the ship exploded that night.”

  Maggie digested that for a second. “Whoever hired you believes Eugenia may have survived. Even if you accept that as fact, what makes you believe there’s any connection to Windfall Island?”

  And there, Dex thought, was the question he’d been expecting. The answer, he knew, would make or break his case. “There were sightings of the maid. Credible sightings.” And he could see Maggie wasn’t convinced. “A woman recently died in Boston. Her name isn’t important, but before she died she told her son that Sonja Hanson, the maid, was his great grandmother. And she gave him a box of documents, letters, birth certificates, press clippings.”

  “Let me guess, someth
ing in that box linked Sonja with Windfall. Why didn’t he go to the press?”

  “Money. He didn’t want to expose his family to the tabloids and credible news agencies don’t pay for stories, so he went to the Stanhopes directly. They paid him for the records and his silence, paid him very well, I’d imagine.”

  “And now they’re paying you very well.”

  Dex drew in a breath, let it out slowly, ignoring the sting in her words. She didn’t think much of him at the moment. He understood why. “The Stanhopes are American royalty. The luck belongs to whoever is descended from them.”

  “There’s an inheritance, I take it.”

  “Eugenia was never declared dead—at first because her mother wouldn’t allow it. In the years since her death, it was just never dealt with. Now, well, they want to be sure someone won’t show up to make claims against the family.

  “But you already knew this was about money.”

  “I figured there was something of value, and that you wanted to keep it a secret so there wouldn’t be a free-for-all. Now that I know it’s a fortune, I can understand the secrecy.” She pinned him with a look. “Understand, not forgive.”

  “Maggie—”

  “Jessi and Benji, they could be descendants.”

  “That’s why you can’t tell her.”

  Her stare turned to incredulity, with an edge of insult. “Do you think she’d falsify records?”

  In for a penny…

  But Maggie’s quick mind had already jumped to the suspicion he would have voiced. Her brilliant blue eyes hardened, shining eerily in the faint light. “She could use the money, right?”

  “I don’t—” He stopped, took a moment to remind himself of his responsibilities. “I like Jessi, but I have to be objective. If word gets out, it will be almost impossible for me to do my job. Especially if word gets off the island.”

  She stared at him for another second, then whirled away to pace.

  He could feel the fury pumping off her, so much she should have been steaming in the chilly night air.

  “If you tell Jessi why I’m here, you’ll only be putting her in an awkward position.”

  “Like me, you mean? The awkward position I’m in now, knowing you’re here to turn the life of someone on this island upside down, someone I love—or at least tolerate. And I can’t say a word or all hell breaks loose.”