by Lila Monroe
She raises an eyebrow at me. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Yes,” I admit. “But if Grandpa has made his mind up to give it all away, then there’s not much I can do about that.”
“You could at least look at the first clue,” Hallie says, plucking it out of my pocket. “The curiosity is killing me!”
“OK, OK.” I smile at her expression. She rips it open and pulls out a piece of heavy cream cardstock with neat black print.
“My love runs on a heart of gasoline,” she reads aloud. “Break it open for the next clue to be seen.” Hallie looks at me, confused. “What does it mean?”
Despite myself, my mind races ahead. Already I’m picturing the cherry-red Camaro parked in its place of honor in Gramps’s garage. “It’s a car. The car.”
He loves all his vehicles, but that one—that one he always told me was special. I can remember him stroking the hood and calling her darling. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he loved it more than my grandmother. He spent hours tinkering with it in the garage . . . Which must be where the next clue is.”
“So? What are we waiting for?”
I pause. I said I wasn’t going to get sucked into this harebrained treasure hunt. But I was the only one who spent all those hours in the garage with him. The rest of the family might be able to figure out he’s talking about a car, but they won’t know which one.
Damn.
“It wouldn’t hurt just to look at the next clue,” Hallie adds. “I mean, at least it would slow the rest of them down.”
“Good point.” I can’t think which one of those vultures I would want to win. Flora, maybe? But I do know Artie and Parker will be out for blood. “Come on.”
I take her hand and lead her down the terrace steps and across the lawn, taking a shortcut around to the garage. The place is empty when I click on the lights.
“Nobody else has figured out the clue,” Hallie says.
“Yet.”
Instead of going straight to the Camaro, I duck into the side room and grab a toolbox. The clue said to break open the heart. He must want someone to take apart the engine, and you better believe I’m going to do it the right way.
Hallie follows me over to the Camaro. “Wow!” she says when she sees it. “That’s a beauty.”
“My grandfather sure thinks so.” I pop the hood. All right, time to get down to work. I rub my hands together, feeling a spark of excitement. Crazy family dynamics aside, I can’t help but warm to the challenge.
“See, I knew you’d get into the spirit,” Hallie says, noticing my smile.
“What can I say?” I grin. “There’s nothing like the thrill of the chase.”
“Right.” Hallie’s voice flattens, but I don’t have time to wonder what she means. I turn my attention to the engine instead.
You can’t rush a disassembly job. First task: draining the fluids.
“Is there anything I can do?” Hallie asks.
“Grab that bucket over there?” I ask, pointing. “Otherwise . . . Keep our competition distracted if they catch up.”
“I think I’m up to that.”
I’ve finished the coolant and started on the oil when my cousins finally burst in. “Of course it’d be here,” Artie says, sounding disgusted. “And look who’s already got a head start.”
Parker and Brad barge in right behind him. The Crossfit Kings look around with a huff. “What are you doing over there, Max?” Parker demands, drill-sergeant style.
“Me?” I ask innocently. “I just needed a break from the party. What are you all doing here?”
“Very funny.” Artie scowls. “You expect us to believe you’re not playing, too? You just felt like coming out here and leaving your fiancée high and dry.”
“Oh, no,” Hallie says demurely, leaning against the side of the car in a way that shows off her curves in that dress to full effect. “Not high here, and definitely not dry. There’s nothing much more appealing than a man who knows his way around an engine.”
I nearly drop my wrench. Why am I putting my hands to work on this car instead of that body again?
Artie looks like he’s momentarily choked on his tongue. Cordelia glares daggers at Hallie and grasps her husband’s elbow. “Forget them. He’s making a guess. We’ve got the whole rest of the garage to search.”
“Not if we get there first,” Parker snaps. “Come on, Brad.”
They rush into the maintenance room. Clangs and thumps echo out as they paw through Gramps’s supplies. Artie leaps to the nearest car and yanks open the trunk. The hood. Each of the doors, peering inside. It’s a frantic rhythm of sigh-slam!-sigh-slam!
Hallie leans in. “Are you sure you have the right car?” she whispers.
I nod. “Let them tire themselves out. I know I’m in the right spot.” I remove the cylinder heads and get started on the nuts and bolts.
“Then I better go get started on that whole distraction part.” Hallie glides away.
I’m too focused on the engine to watch her go, but I hear what she’s up to soon enough. The clattering and slamming is briefly broken by a squeal.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, did I tip that oil can over on your dress?” Hallie exclaims.
“Leave it!” Cordelia says. She’s gnashing her teeth over there now.
Parker and Brad have given up on the maintenance room and are now tossing all the cars at the other end of the garage in a flurry. Hallie ambles over that way. “Did you find anything yet? Oh, did you remember to look under the seats? That’s always where I lose stuff. Hey, I’m just trying to help!”
I smile. I ease open the engine’s main casing—and bingo. There’s another linen envelope, sealed in plastic, waiting inside.
I try to slip it out of the engine as surreptitiously as possible, but Artie has the eyes of a hawk. A gold-digging, entitled hawk.
“Max has it!” he yells, hurrying. “Give it to me.”
He holds his hand out. I stare back. “Yeah, I don’t think so. The clue is mine.”
Suddenly I’m surrounded by a full set of cousins and spouses. Parker stomps closer, her hands fisted at her sides. “Look, Max, if there’s only one clue, we all need to know what it says.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. “And what are you going to do if I say no? Beat me up?”
She looks like she’s considering it. Brad cracks his knuckles and tries to loom over me, although that’s tricky given that we’re the same height.
Hallie squeezes past the others to join me. “Max found it fair and square,” she argues. “Or are the rest of you cheats?”
Artie’s face flushes. “Don’t you dare call me a cheat,” he says, jabbing a finger at her. For a second I think he’s going to be the one to start the brawl.
My exhilaration is fading. I didn’t even want to be in this competition.
“Whatever,” I sigh. “Don’t start a riot. I’ll read it out loud so you can all hear.”
“And show us, too,” Cordelia demands. Her satin dress is stained with oil, and her fancy hairstyle is coming loose. “In case you lie.”
I bite back a retort. The sooner they get the next clue, the sooner they’ll be racing off to solve it—far away from me.
It’s another card, blank white with elegant black lettering.
“Know your history if the others you want to best,” I read out. “Journey to where the great Walter Carlisle laid his head to rest.”
I flip the card around so they can all snap photos of the text.
“Where he laid his head to rest . . .” Arties says thoughtfully. “Great-great-grandfather Carlisle lived in Boston when he first arrived in America, while he was building the business.”
“That’s it!” Parker barks, yanking Brad toward the door. “Let’s go.”
They all take off, leaving Hallie and I alone.
“So, about that drink?” I arch an eyebrow at her. “Plus, I think I need a dance with my new fiancée. You know, to really sell the act.”
And getting to hold her close h
as nothing to do with it, of course.
But Hallie is just gaping at me, looking frustrated. “They’re getting away!”
“Yup. Far, far away, I hope.”
I lock up behind us, and stroll back towards the party—until Hallie grabs my hand, yanking me to a stop. “Why did you solve the first clue, if you were just going to quit the race?” she asks.
“I didn’t quit.”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “So you’re fine just walking away?”
I shift, uncomfortable. The truth is, I don’t want Artie, or Parker, or any of them taking over the company. And it was pretty fun, chasing down that clue . . .
“Yes,” I lie. “I’m fine. This place will be a whole lot more relaxing with them off on some wild treasure hunt. More time by the pool for us,” I say. “In fact, that sounds like a great plan. Fancy a dip?”
I tug her in the other direction, down towards the pool. It’s glowing in the dark, illuminated by hundreds of underwater lights, and with everyone inside at the party, we’re totally alone. “No trunks, but what’s a little skinny-dipping between friends?” I wink.
“You first,” Hallie says, with the strangest expression on her face. But hey, I don’t need another invitation, not when the temperature is soaring between us. It’s been almost twenty-four hours since that steamy kiss between us. Twenty-four hours far too long.
I strip off my tux, leaving my briefs on for the sake of her modesty, and dive into the pool.
Ah, that’s better. “The water’s great,” I call, splashing lazily. “Come on in!”
But Hallie kicks off her shoes and sits on the edge of the pool, rifling through my pockets for . . . the second clue.
“Come on,” I call. “I told you, leave them to it.”
She scans it, looking thoughtful. “You know,” she starts, and then shakes her head. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
I roll onto my back, floating. “What?”
“It’s just—are you completely sure Artie was right about going to Boston? I’m just thinking about the phrasing. Where he laid his head to rest. When people talk about laying someone to rest, they usually mean burying them, not sleeping.”
Huh. Now that she mentions it, that’s true.
“And I figure your grandfather chose his words very carefully,” she adds.
I swim over to her. “You think it means his grave, not his first home.”
“If the others hadn’t said anything, that’s what I would have guessed,” Hallie says. “Is he buried in Boston too?”
“No,” I reply, thoughtful now. “He ended up retiring in a little town in Virginia. Harperville. That’s where the grave is. Gramps took us all out there one time when we were kids.”
“So everyone else is heading in the wrong direction.” Hallie’s eyes sparkle in the dark. “Which means we could get a head start and beat them all to the next clue.”
“Or be chasing our tails for nothing,” I point out, tugging her bare ankle.
She kicks back, splashing me playfully. “I thought you loved the chase.”
“When it’s a pretty woman, sure. When it’s my family legacy, not so much.”
“But don’t you want to see Artie’s face when you beat him?” Hallie asks with a mischievous smile. “And Parker would lose it. Completely.”
I laugh at the thought. “Tempting . . .”
“So?”
Hallie waits for my response, and just like that, I decide. But it’s not the thought of besting my cousins that makes me change my mind, or the prospect of winning control of the Carlisle Empire.
No, it’s the flush of excitement on Hallie’s face. The sexy-as-hell look that says behind Ms. Professional’s trusty notebook and ground rules, there’s a woman who loves adventure.
And damn, if I don’t want to show her a wild ride.
“OK, you’ve convinced me,” I grin, pulling myself out of the pool. “Let’s go win this thing.”
12
Hallie
“So this is how the other half live,” I say, sinking deeper into the uber-comfy plane seat. How is it possible that this jet is cozier than any living room I’ve ever been in?
Across from me, Max grins. “Did I forget to mention we have a small private jet on hand? My bad.”
“Small?” I repeat, gazing around the luxurious cabin.
“The cousins took the big one.”
He offers me a glass of wine, and I take it, savoring the taste before I grab another of the fancy crackers that were also stored in the sideboard. “I’m surprised you don’t have any caviar on board. What kind of ramshackle operation are you running here?”
Max grins. “Cute outfit,” he notes, looking me over with a sizzling stare. “You should have worn it to the party.”
I laugh. I’m wearing plain cutoffs and a tank top. I barely had time to change out of my gown and throw a few things back in my suitcase before we raced to the airfield. “I figured I’d better go practical,” I tell him. “Who knows what other tricks your grandfather has up his sleeve?”
“Don’t remind me.” Max stretches out his legs next to mine. His ankle comes to rest against my bare calf. I can’t bring myself to move away. What’s a little footsy between friends?
“So I have a question for you,” I say, trying to distract myself from the lean lines of his muscular body, still dressed in that tux. “If everyone else in the Carlisle family is . . . well, a piece of work, how did you make it out with some good still left in you?”
“Some?” he teases, nudging my ankle.
I try to give him a withering stare. “I’m withholding judgment. But based on first impressions, you’re not a vicious piranha like the rest of them.”
“My babydoll, she’s so sweet to me,” Max teases, and I laugh.
“That’s right, pookie.”
Max’s expression turns thoughtful. “I don’t know why I’m so different. Even growing up, I could never really connect with them. It felt like we were all playing a part, you know? Artie striving to be this cut-throat business tycoon to impress everyone, Parker fighting for attention by dominating every sport she could. My parents would stash me with family every summer, but I steered clear. I was busy getting in trouble of my own.” He winks, and I don’t have to ask to know that the trouble in question probably involved girls.
“What about you?” he asks. “You’re taking all this in stride. Maybe insanity runs in your family too?”
“Is there any family that’s completely sane?” I counter. “I guess mine is pretty normal, all things told. Mom and Dad have a house in the country, out in Vermont. All quiet and picturesque. Which of course drove me crazy when I was a teenager, because the last thing I wanted was quiet, but I survived.”
“Clearly,” Max says.
“My brother’s in theater,” I add. “He’s a big-time Broadway producer, but he’s about as grounded as any show-business person I’ve met.” I shrug. “Maybe the Gages are just kind of boring.”
Max snorts with laughter. “Hallie, the last thing you are is boring.”
I flush, surprised at the compliment. “I guess I have been keeping you on your toes.”
“Me and the rest of the family. Talking back to the investors. Revamping Cordelia’s fashion choices,” Max counts them off.
“Hey, you asked me to distract her.”
“And now you’re probably top of her hit list.” Max grins over at me. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll protect you.”
“From Cordelia? I could snap her like a twig.” I giggle and take another sip of wine. “It’s Artie I’m worried about. He looks like one of those American Psycho guys—wound so tight, he’ll explode.”
“As long as we’re a thousand miles away . . .” Max clinks his glass to mine in a toast. “Here’s to beating them at their own game.”
* * *
We touch down at a private airstrip, out in the middle of nowhere. Being Max, of course, he’s arranged to have a rental car waiting for us, despite the fact it
’s the middle of the night.
“Next stop, the cemetery,” he announces, getting behind the wheel.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to find it?” I ask, peering through the windshield. It’s pitch black out, our headlights the only illumination for miles around.
“Siri never lets me down.”
“Can Siri rush deliver some holy water and stakes?” I shiver as we pass an abandoned old barn. “Because it’s like the first act of a horror movie out here.”
“No stakes,” Max says. “But I do have an excellent roundhouse kick.”
“I guess that’ll have to do.”
He reaches over to pat my knee, and even though it’s a casual gesture, barely touching for a moment, I feel the heat everywhere. “Don’t worry,” Max says with a grin. “I’ll fend off the undead for you, any day.”
“Good. Because I watched as much Buffy as the next girl, but vampires are definitely beyond the scope of our contract.”
By the time Max pulls over at the small cemetery, rain is spitting from the dark night’s sky. “I don’t suppose you packed an umbrella?” I ask.
“Sorry. You can stay here if you want.”
“Are you kidding?” I reach for the car door. “I want to see if we’re right!”
I take two steps out of the car—and fall flat on my butt. SQUELCH. Max laughs, and then has to grab hold of the car for balance when he hits the mud patch.
“Here.” He helps me up, and then strips off his jacket, settling it around my shoulders.
“I guess flip-flops aren’t the best choice for a midnight stroll through the graveyard,” I say, levering them out of the mud. “Let’s find that grave and get out of here.”
We search the gravestones, using our cellphones as flashlights in the dark. Distant thunder warbles. Max starts whistling a jaunty tune, as if we’re out for a pleasant turn around the park and not creeping around in a graveyard. I raise my eyebrows at him.
“To scare away the vampires,” he says innocently.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that trick before.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s a secret only known to the innermost circle of— Hey, I’ve found it!”