Christina gave her a curious look. “He hasn’t been around long.”
“He seems different.”
“I try to stay away from all of them,” Christina said.
“Not the worst choice in the world.”
“Do you like him?”
“What? No. That’s not why I’m asking.”
“He’s a great-looking guy.”
“There are lots of great-looking guys in the world.”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“How do you mean?” Kate knew she shouldn’t be asking, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Like he wants to eat you for lunch.”
“He does not.”
“I think he has a lot of money. He wears expensive clothes.”
“You can tell?”
“Poor people don’t hire nannies. So I’ve had some experience with how the rich dress.”
“I’d never know a designer suit.”
“That’s because you’re not a gold digger.”
“Neither are you,” Kate told her.
“Oh, I’d take the gold in a heartbeat if it came with the right man.”
Kate smiled. “There’s your key. The right man.”
“I guess I’d take him if he was poor, too. But Brody’s not poor, and he’s got a thing for you.”
And they were back to Kate and Brody again—not the place Kate wanted to go. Protesting hadn’t gotten her anywhere, so she turned it into a joke.
“Well, I’ve got a thing for Annabelle, so Brody’s going to have to get in line.”
Eight
Brody couldn’t understand what had happened to Kate. She’d said she’d be here tonight, and he’d counted on it. Just when his opinion was starting to change, she pulled something like this.
Bert and Ernie had been huddled in a corner talking half the night. If she’d been here, if she’d showed up, it would have been a prime opportunity to gather more intel. He was holding up his end of the bargain. He was going to make sure she held up hers.
He headed down the front stairs of the mansion, deciding on his next move. And there she was, coming out of the passenger side of a car, looking super-sexy in a tight, short black-and-silver dress and a pair of high heels.
She’d been on a date? Seriously? Her love life couldn’t go on hold for one day?
He strode for the car, prepared to confront her. Whoever she was dating could stand aside. The driver’s door opened, and Brody braced himself. But the guy who stepped out was no guy at all. It was the nanny.
He was more confused than ever.
Before the issue could sort itself out in his mind, the nanny retrieved Annabelle from the backseat. Brody couldn’t imagine where they had been at this time of night.
“You promised you’d be here,” he said to Kate.
“I was here,” she retorted. “You weren’t.”
“I’ve been here for hours.” He lowered his voice. “And so have Bert and Ernie.”
“Annabelle couldn’t sleep.”
Brody had no idea how to respond to that. “And...” he all but sputtered.
Annabelle started to fuss in the nanny’s arms.
“We took her for a drive,” Kate said.
“I should get her inside,” said Christina.
“You were touring the neighborhood instead of being here?” He was trying to wrap his head around her thought processes.
“Thanks for your help,” Christina said to Kate.
A look passed between the two women before the nanny hustled up the stairs.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?”
“My niece. The baby,” Kate said. “Crying. Lots. And motion puts her to sleep.”
“I’m not buying it.”
“You know you have a suspicious mind?”
“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
She went silent, an intense expression coming over her face. Everything he’d ever suspected about her intellect was there in front of him to see.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.
She made him wait a moment longer. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Absolutely.” Whatever she was thinking or doing, he wanted to know about it.
“Somewhere that’s not here.”
“My car.” He pointed to his black Audi rental.
They were both silent as they walked. Then they slid into the leather seats and buckled up.
He pushed the starter button and moved the shifter. “Start talking.”
It took her a minute or so to answer. “Not yet. I want to be able to see your eyes while I talk.”
“This is starting to feel like some kind of a game.” He wasn’t interested in being jerked around for whatever reason she might have.
“I’m trying to decide if I can trust you, Brody.”
“You can.”
“You’re going to have to let me be the judge of that.”
He gave up. He was curious enough that he’d do it her way. “My hotel has a nice lounge.”
“That’ll work.” She slumped back as the car started to move. She seemed distracted, gazing out the window as the streetlights flashed past.
They cleared the driveway, and he pulled the car onto the winding mountain road.
He told himself to be patient, but his interest was piqued. “If the lounge isn’t private enough, we can go up to my suite.”
“Sure,” she answered distractedly.
“Kate?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s going on inside your head?”
“What?”
“You just agreed to go up to my hotel suite.”
She blinked at him. “Did I?”
“Are you planning to seduce me?” He knew that wasn’t the case, but a man could hope.
“No.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Her tone turned tart. “You can’t be surprised.”
He grinned. “There we go. Now you’re back.”
He picked up speed, and the route took them down to the beach at Santa Monica. In front of the hotel, Brody handed the keys off to the valet and swiftly rounded the car to open Kate’s door.
He couldn’t help admiring her shapely legs as she stepped out of the car.
She caught him staring. “We’re not on a date.”
“It feels like a date. It could be a date.”
“This is serious, Brody.”
“Fine.” As he righted his gaze, he couldn’t help but notice the little bird necklace dangling against her chest. He touched a finger to it. “I thought you’d decided on the emeralds.”
He hadn’t intended to call her on stealing the pretty necklace. But the fact that she’d taken it, along with so many other things about her had him more than a little confused. He wanted to see how she’d explain it away.
She glanced down. “I put the emeralds back.”
“You did not.”
They were worth a fortune, and she’d had Quentin’s permission to take them. Kate might not be a fortune hunter, but she wasn’t a fool.
“He said I could take one thing, and I wanted this instead,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I gave it to Francie for her birthday.” There was regret in Kate’s eyes. “A long time ago. When things were better between us.”
Now Brody felt like a prize jerk.
“Can we go inside?” she asked.
They crossed the lobby to the quiet lounge in the back and found an empty table with deep cushioned chairs and a candle flickering on the polished black surface.
“Drink?” he asked.
“I’ll take a club soda.”
Brody also ordered a beer for himself and debated whether he should apologize.
Before he could decide, she spoke. “I’ve come to the reluctant conclusion that I’m going to have to trust you.”
“Reluctant?” It was hard to take that as a vote of confidence.”
“Look at it from my side, Brody. I don’t know anything about you, or your relationship to Quentin, or what’s going on with Bert and Ernie.”
“But you need something from me.” That much was clear.
She toyed with one of her dangling earrings. “I need to tell you that I’m a fraud.”
“You’re a criminal?” He certainly didn’t want that to be the case.
“No.” She pointed to her hair and her dress and her fingernails. “I mean I’m not this.”
He wasn’t following. Was she saying she wasn’t Francie’s sister? He hadn’t even considered that as a possibility.
“I’m not like Francie. I don’t like parties and loud music, and I certainly don’t do recreational drugs.”
“But you are her sister?”
His question seemed to confuse her.
“Of course I’m her sister. Who else would I be?”
Brody didn’t know. But he was through taking anything at face value.
“What about the marijuana in the gatehouse?” he asked.
“You walked in just as I found it. I was putting it back.”
“Okay.”
She squared her shoulders. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” He did. He hadn’t seen anything else that indicated she was into any kind of drugs. When he thought back about it, she barely ever drank the champagne she ordered.
“I’m a first-grade teacher,” she said.
“Really?” That wouldn’t have even been his hundredth guess.
“I’m giving you the truth here. And I can prove it all. I cut my hair. It’s not usually purple. I don’t wear this amount of makeup, and my closet is full of ordinary dresses and blazers.”
He found himself smiling. “So, I’m assuming this was part of some master plan?”
“I wanted Quentin to like me. I wanted to blend in. I wanted a chance to make sure Annabelle was being properly cared for.”
What she said seemed to pull a lot of the pieces together, and Brody couldn’t help but admire her ingenuity. “Well, you pulled it off. And you managed to look good doing it.”
“I look tacky doing it.”
“But sexy. Tacky can be very sexy.”
“Stop.”
“It’s hard to stop when you’re sitting right here in front of me.”
“Be serious, Brody.”
The waiter arrived and set down their drinks.
Brody waited until he left. “I am serious. But this is hardly the most damning secret in the world. You did a good thing.”
“That’s not all of it.” She twirled the plastic stick in her icy drink.
She had his attention.
“I need someone close to Quentin to help me.”
Brody almost told her he wasn’t close to Quentin. But he didn’t want to stop the flow of information. And he didn’t want to disappoint her before he had to.
“I know he does illegal drugs,” she said. “And I can probably get proof of that.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kate, it would be dangerous for you to try.”
“Even if I was successful, I don’t think that’s going to be enough.”
“Enough to what?”
“To prove he’s an unfit parent. I’ve been reading up, and it’s not going to be enough to show I’d be a better parent. There has to be something significant to get her away from him.”
Brody couldn’t help but see the irony in the situation. If his own plans came together, Quentin wouldn’t be in a position to raise Annabelle or any other child for a very long time to come.
She continued in the face of his silence. “Francie and I didn’t have it very good growing up. Our mother was a narcissist and an alcoholic who didn’t particularly like children.”
“That sounds bad.”
“It was bad. Maybe worse for Francie than it was for me. She reacted one way to the disaster that was our childhood. I reacted in another. Thing is, I survived. I’m doing really well in Seattle. I’ve got a great job. Great friends. I own a condo—well, half a condo. I fought hard and I climbed out of a truly dismal start in life. I’m in a position to take care of Annabelle. She doesn’t have to be stuck with Quentin. The cycle doesn’t have to repeat with her, because I can stop it.”
Brody couldn’t help comparing Kate’s upbringing with his own. And he couldn’t help picturing Annabelle. She was a beautiful little baby, cherubic, happy, curious. And she had Kate’s blue eyes.
He didn’t care that they were also Francie’s blue eyes. As far as he was concerned, they belonged to Kate. And for some reason that told him Annabelle should be with Kate. And he wanted to help.
He knew the safe thing to do was keep quiet about his family. But he found he didn’t want to play it safe. He wanted to go out on a limb for her. And that meant sharing more than he should. But she’d trusted him and, like him, she was trying to do the right thing by her family.
“I don’t mean this the way it sounds,” he said. “But would you come up to my hotel room?”
“How do you think it sounds?”
“Like I’m making a pass at you.”
“But you’re not.”
“No. There’s something I want to talk to you about, and I can’t do it here.”
It looked like she was fighting a smile. “‘Come up to my hotel room, baby, and I’ll tell you a secret’.”
“If I was making a pass at you, it would be a lot smoother than that.”
“I’m not judging.”
“You were mocking.”
“I guess I’m just relieved that now you know the truth about me and why I’m here.”
He reached forward and took her hands. “That wasn’t such a terrible secret. What you’re doing is admirable. And if you’ll trust me a little further, I have an idea.”
“I trust you.” She paused. “I guess in part because I have to. You’re the only one of Quentin’s friends who doesn’t make the hair stand up on the back of my neck.”
“Your instincts are good. You should keep going with those.”
* * *
Kate was drawn to the glass doors that led to the balcony of Brody’s hotel suite. He had a sweeping view of the ocean and stars, and a quarter moon that hung low in the sky, and she gazed out at the panorama.
“Open?” he asked, coming up beside her.
“That would be nice.”
It was coming up on three in the morning. Her energy was waning, but as he pulled aside the doors the ocean air blew in, reviving her.
“Thirsty?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Would you like to sit?” he asked, gesturing to the sofa.
“You’re making me nervous,” she said.
“Don’t be.”
If only it were that easy. She wasn’t completely sure she was ready for whatever he had to say that was so private. She hoped it was something good about Annabelle.
He took the opposite end of the sofa, then he seemed to hesitate. “Right. Here it is.”
She waited.
“Here’s what?” she asked, her curiosity beginning to turn into anxiety. Was it something bad?
He gave a tight smile then pressed his lips together. “My name is not Brody Herrington.”
A warning tingle flooded Kate’s body.
“What?”
“I’m not—”
She came to her feet, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Why had it seemed safe to come up here with him? She didn’t even know him. She didn’t know him at all.
“Wait,” he said.
She turned to leave, and he jumped up from the sofa.
“It’s Brody Calder,” he called after her. “Kate, stop. It’s nothing sinister, I promise.”
Her hand was gripping the door handle. She didn’t let go, but she stared at him cautiously.
“I’m Brody Calder. My grandmother’s name is Herrington. My family and I own Shetland Technology Corporation. It’s a Scottish firm that’s a direct competitor of Beast Blue Designs.”
She tried to wrap her head around what he was saying. “You’re not a concert promoter.”
That much was clear.
“I’m not.”
“So you’re some corporate spy? You’re a criminal? Are Bert and Ernie the good guys?”
“No! And I’m not a criminal. And Bert and Ernie are definitely not the good guys. My family and I are the victims. Quentin stole from us, and I’m here to prove it.”
“What did he steal?” She couldn’t imagine what Quentin would want that he couldn’t buy for himself.
“Intellectual property. Computer code.”
Her instincts were at war with themselves, some telling her to get away from Brody, the rest telling her to trust him. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because you’ve met Quentin, and you’ve met me. Which one of us do you think is a thief?”
“There’s no way to know.”
“There are dozens of ways to know.”
“Name one.” She kept a firm grip on the door handle.
If he made a single move toward her, she was running out into the hall and shouting for help.
“Do a search on me. Use my real name. You’ll find my family, and you’ll find my company. You’ll know I’m telling the truth about that much.”
“You’ll stay where you are?” she asked.
“Absolutely.” He sat back down and held up his palms in mock surrender. “Go ahead.”
She took out her phone and pulled up the browser. “You said Calder.”
“Yes. Try the Earl of Calder. My father.”
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