Playing the Playboy

by Noelle Adams

  “Have you met Mr. Damon?” Marietta asked.

  “No. I haven’t met anyone. It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

  Marietta’s pretty features twisted strangely, as if she was going to say something but stopped herself.

  “What is it?” Laurel asked. When Marietta still hesitated, she added, “I mean it. Tell me.”

  “It’s …different, being with a Damon.”

  Laurel swallowed, waiting for the other woman to continue.

  “I mean, I wouldn’t trade Harrison for the world, not for the world. But it hasn’t been smooth sailing. They have pressures unlike anyone else because they’re Damons, because of who their uncle is.”

  “What do you mean? What kinds of pressures?”

  Marietta gave a little shrug. “Harrison hasn’t talked to his uncle for over a month—because Harrison chose to be with me.”

  Laurel’s lips parted. Marietta with her fresh candor, her bright spirit, and her sheltered background seemed like the girlfriend any family would dream of. “Why doesn’t he like you?”

  “He does like me. That’s not it at all.” Marietta glanced away, out the window, and looked sad for just a moment. “It’s a really complicated story. I promise I’ll tell you sometime. My point was just… I don’t know. I shouldn’t be telling you this at all. Andrew is such a great guy, and it’s so early you probably aren’t thinking of anything but having a good time with him.”

  She looked embarrassed and like she wanted to take back what she’d said, but Laurel wanted to hear it. “Is Mr. Damon really that unreasonable?”

  “No, no. He’s…” Marietta paused, as if to choose her words carefully. “He’s an incredibly civilized man—and he always acts on what he believes to be right and just. But he lives by a code that most of us don’t, so it’s hard if we fall short.”

  “How could you have fallen short?”

  “I didn’t fall short. Harrison did.” Marietta straightened up and went to check the scones. When she saw they were ready, she pulled the tray out of the oven.

  She was smiling when she turned around. “But it’s getting better. There has evidently been some thawing. We’re going back to England soon so Harrison can get back into the family business. He’s a little bit crazy, and he misses the work.”

  Laurel laughed at Marietta’s wry tone, but her heart sank as she fully processed what the other woman had said. If eminently respectable Harrison and sweet Marietta had somehow failed to live up to Cyrus Damon’s code, then what would he think of Laurel?

  She was from the back hills of West Virginia, dirt poor and with just a high school education. She’d worked in a strip joint until she’d married a much older man and became a trophy wife.

  If she started to date Andrew, there was no way Cyrus Damon wouldn’t look into her background. He wasn’t going to approve.

  “What’s wrong?” Marietta said, swallowing a bite of scone.

  Laurel shook her head, trying to put together a plan to deal with this. She could tell Andrew the truth about everything. She was pretty sure she could make him understand. Then maybe they could figure out something. She didn’t want to estrange him from his family. She knew how much his family meant to Andrew.

  But she also didn’t want to give him up.

  “Why is everyone awake so early?” Andrew asked, walking into the kitchen. He was unshaven and dressed in nothing but worn-out sweatpants with rumpled hair and bare feet. “At least I beat Harrison out of bed.”

  “Nope. He was taking a shower when I came out. He actually never went to bed.”

  “He worked all night? I didn’t think he did that anymore.”

  “He doesn’t. It’s your fault, since I think he was looking into whatever you’re here about. Who would have thought you’d be the one to drag him back into work.” Marietta grinned at Andrew as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

  Laurel felt another one of those irrational twinges—this one more possessiveness than jealousy. She didn’t like that another woman was getting to see Andrew looking so mussed, half-dressed, and scrumptious. Like before, she stamped the feeling down because it was ridiculous.

  Andrew leaned down to kiss Laurel on the lips, tasting like coffee. Then he leaned down to kiss Marietta on the top of her head. Picking up a scone, he said, “I guess that means I better get dressed too. Carry on.”

  Laurel smiled after him, feeling a swell of something so deep, so powerful, she couldn’t quite process it.

  “Whatever has happened between the two of you,” Marietta said softly, “it’s been good.”

  Laurel turned with a jerk of her head.

  “I mean it. He’s always been great, but he’s somehow even better now. Like he finally takes life seriously.”

  Laurel felt another wave of excitement and emotion, wondering if that was really true, if she’d really been good for him. All she said was, “And you had that profound insight from just watching him get a cup of coffee?”

  Marietta laughed merrily. “And last night too. There’s a definite difference. Harrison noticed it too.” She paused and must have seen the hopeful disbelief on Laurel’s face. “You didn’t know him before.”

  ***

  Andrew was in a really good mood as he quickly showered and shaved.

  Things were finally falling into place. He and Harrison could figure out the inn, which hopefully would conclude with Laurel’s keeping it. He’d been worried last night about how he would handle a relationship with her, but this morning it didn’t seem so complicated. They could date long-distance for a while. He’d fly into Santorini every weekend if he missed her too much. It really seemed like she wanted to be with him, like she wasn’t holding back anymore.

  For the first time, his future didn’t feel like nothing but an endless series of tedious business meetings and empty sexual encounters.

  It was so strange—to be with a woman as long as he’d been with Laurel and not start to wonder who he might be with next. But he didn’t. He didn’t want anyone but Laurel. Truth be told, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else.

  Maybe, maybe, she felt the same way. It was soon, but it wasn’t impossible.

  He’d yanked on a pair of trousers and was pulling a shirt over his head when there was a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” he called through the cotton of his shirt.

  Harrison opened the door.

  Andrew knew immediately from the expression on his brother’s face that something was wrong.

  “What is it?” he asked. “Is Laurel okay?”

  Harrison’s mouth tightened ominously. “You better come see something.”

  Andrew became increasingly anxious as he walked with Harrison down the hall and toward the office. He could hear the women laughing in the kitchen.

  “Harry,” Marietta called out when they passed, “Did you want a scone?”

  When Harrison didn’t reply to the friendly question, Andrew knew that whatever his brother had to tell him was really, really bad.

  “Damn it,” he muttered, when Harrison closed the office door. “What’s going on? You’re giving me a heart attack. Is it Lord Uncle?”

  “No. Sit down.”

  Andrew sat down in a leather chair next to the desk.

  “I’d forgotten all about Grayson,” Harrison began. “The bank’s assets weren’t really that substantial in the scheme of things, and it’s been a while now. But I pulled the information up last night so we could go over it. Then I remembered.”

  Andrew felt his stomach clench sickeningly when he realized his brother’s brooding tension had to do with Laurel and the inn. “What is it?”

  “Grayson was more of a gambler than an investor, and most of his investments went bust. He lived like he had money, but he was running from creditors most of his life.”

  Andrew grew very still. That wasn’t the story of her husband Laurel had told him.

  “The inn definitely doesn’t belong to Laurel. If you’ve found something tha
t says it does, then the evidence has been fabricated. I’m really sorry,” Harrison said, leaning forward, his eyes utterly sober. “But I think she’s been lying to you.”

  “No, she hasn’t.” Andrew felt rather ill all of a sudden, but there was no way he would believe that about Laurel.

  “I’m telling you—” Harrison’s words were cut off by a knock on the door.

  Marietta entered with a two scones on a plate and a tall mug of coffee. “Harry, since you insist on working all through the night and morning, I figured you could at least—” Her cheerful voice broke off when she registered their expressions. “What’s going on?”

  Harrison gestured her into a chair. “I was telling him about Laurel.”

  “What about—”

  “This is wrong,” Andrew interrupted. “I know you’ve had a couple of bad experiences with women, but they’re not all deceptive, manipulative gold-diggers. Laurel isn’t like that.”

  “I don’t think you know everything about her.” Harrison’s eyes were full of pity, and the sympathetic expression made everything worse.

  “I can believe Grayson did whatever you’re going to tell me he did, but Laurel didn’t know anything about it. She’s acted in good faith all this time.”

  “I don’t think she has. What did she tell you about how Grayson gave her the property?”

  “She said it was a first anniversary present because she’d always dreamed of living on a Greek island and he wanted her to have something that was hers alone.”

  “He didn’t give it to her as an anniversary present. It was transferred into her name two weeks after their marriage. I’m pretty sure he did it just so the property wouldn’t be claimed by his creditors.”

  Andrew couldn’t seem to catch his breath as the words hit him like bullets. She’d made it very clear the inn was a first anniversary present. “Even so,” he said hoarsely, “that just means Grayson lied to her. It doesn’t mean she knows anything about it.”

  “I agree, Harry,” Marietta said quietly. She’d sat down and was still holding the plate of scones on her lap. “I really like her. I don’t think she’s like that. Please don’t rush to judgment. Remember what you thought about me?”

  When her voice wobbled on the last words, Harrison reached out and stroked her hair back in a quick, fond gesture that was almost certainly unconscious. “I know that. I was wrong then, but, sweetheart, she’s not you. I’m not jumping the gun here. I was pretty new to this kind of responsibility when I was handling this project, and I thought Grayson was up to something but had no evidence, so I did more than the normal background checks. I have a whole file on him. And his wife. What did Laurel say she did before she married Grayson?”

  Andrew suddenly went cold with dread. “She managed a restaurant. That’s how she met him.”

  “It was a bar, not a restaurant.” Harrison was looking down at a piece of paper in a file, as if he were reading it. Then he moved the page to the bottom of the pile. “As far as I can tell, it was mostly a strip club.”

  There was a glossy, black-and-white photo beneath that page in the file. Even upside down and across the desk, Andrew could see the picture.

  Laurel—very young and very gorgeous, her long hair hanging down her back, wearing tight, revealing clothing in some sleazy bar.

  He hadn’t needed the photo to know it was true.

  Harrison wouldn’t lie to him. Harrison was his brother, and he was the only person in the world who had always been faithful to Andrew.

  Harrison wouldn’t be saying this at all if he didn’t absolutely believe it.

  “She didn’t tell you that, Andrew?” Marietta asked. Her face was pale now, and her eyes were wide and anxious.

  He shook his head.

  “I guess it was a lie,” Marietta continued, “but there might be a reason for it. Maybe she’s just embarrassed and thinks people would judge her for it. That doesn’t mean she’s lying about everything.”

  Andrew took a breath, holding onto her words like they were the last thread to his sanity. “That’s right,” he said, shaking his head. “I know it looks bad, but you don’t know Laurel. I do. So she sugar-coated her past. Who doesn’t do that? I’ll talk to her about it, and I’m sure there’s an explanation. I just don’t think she’s lying about everything.”

  Harrison looked away, then stiffened his shoulders as if he were steeling himself. He pulled out another piece of paper from the stack in front of him. “Eight and a half years ago, on the evening of March 17, Laurel Martin who would later marry Jerry Grayson was picked up by the local sheriff for prostitution.”

  Marietta made a choking sound.

  Andrew shook his head. “An arrest would have shown up on the normal background checks I ran.”

  “She was never charged. Our investigator evidently talked to the sheriff, and she wasn’t charged because Grayson applied pressure. He was one of the most powerful men in the county. But she was guilty.”

  Andrew shook his head, staring at a place in the middle of the room but not seeing it. “We all have blind spots,” Harrison said softly, “especially if we want to believe.”

  “Harry,” Marietta said, shifting in her chair, “I know it all sounds bad, but we can’t judge her like this. We don’t know what she was going through back then. She might have just lied to cover her past. None of it proves Laurel is lying about the inn. Andrew is right. He’s a really good judge of character—you know that’s true. He’s the one who’s been dealing with all this. She doesn’t necessarily know the inn didn’t legally belong to her husband.”

  Harrison made a few moves on his laptop until he’d pulled up what he wanted. “She told you the inn was a first anniversary present, but she knew very well he gave it to her two weeks after they were married. I’m guessing it was part of her incentive to accept the proposal. She signed when they transferred the deed to her name. I have a scanned copy right here.”

  He turned his laptop so Andrew could see the screen.

  Andrew read Laurel’s name on a signature line.

  “I don’t believe it,” he said, his voice sounding unnatural even to him. “I’m never this wrong about people.”

  “You said you ran into her the day before you were scheduled to meet with her.”

  “Yeah. She didn’t know I was coming a day early. She was going parasailing with a friend and her tire…”

  Andrew trailed off, suddenly wondering with a cold wave of dread who the mysterious friend was. She didn’t seem to socialize much, except with Hector, Agatha, and the dogs. He’d even followed up on it later, and she’d evaded the question.

  “Last night, when I pulled all this up, I called up an investigator we’ve used before on the Greek islands,” Harrison said softly. “He got right to work, so we should hear a report from him soon. Think about it. She lied about her past. She lied about her husband’s financial situation. She lied about when he put the inn in her name. I really think she’s been playing you the whole time.”

  It was possible. She’d lied about other things he hadn’t thought were important, like the salt superstition. Despite that, Andrew just couldn’t make himself believe everything was a lie. What he had with her was real—the realest thing he’d ever experienced. “No,” he said. “I don’t think she was. Anyway, we found that letter from the bank, declaring that Grayson’s grandfather had paid back the debt.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “I’ll go get it,” Marietta offered, with a quick glance over at Andrew’s stiff posture. “Where is it?”

  “In the room. There’s a folder in my case.”

  Marietta left and came back in less than a minute with the folder.

  She handed it to Andrew.

  Andrew handed Harrison the letter they’d found in the old Bible.

  Harrison studied it carefully. Then he pulled up something else on his laptop, obviously comparing the two. Soon he started to shake his head. Andrew knew the verdict before it was voiced.

 
“This is fabricated. It’s pretty well done, but the signature is wrong and the header isn’t a match. Look.”

  Andrew looked, comparing the letter with the scanned document on Harrison’s computer—supposed to have been written from the same bank and signed by the same person. They weren’t a match.

  “Did she give you this letter?” Harrison asked, his voice low, almost mild.

  “We found it. We were together.”

  “Did she point you to where you could find it?”

  Andrew tightened his lips as he thought back.

  “Was that after you told her why we believe the inn belongs to us?”

  Andrew inclined his head in a semblance of a nod.

  “After you told her, would she have had time to do this and put it where you could find it?”

  Andrew remembered how long it had taken for Laurel to return with the boxes from the storage room, so long he’d actually gone to look for her.

  Laurel was nothing if not efficient, doing every task she set her hand to with speed and skill, with not a single wasted moment or motion.

  The last two weeks suddenly fell together in his mind with crystal clarity, the devastating picture complete.

  He knew what had happened. She’d deceived him from the start. He’d been the world’s greatest fool.

  “I’m really sorry,” Harrison said, his face twisting slightly. “If I’d known you were working on all of this, I would have sent you all the information I had. This was all my personal research, so it wasn’t in the corporate files. If you’d had this earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have… maybe you would have been better prepared.”

  Any time over the last month, Andrew could have asked his brother for help with the project—he could have had all the information he needed to protect himself from this brutal revelation.

  But he’d wanted to handle it on his own.

  Andrew couldn’t respond. He felt frozen, and he wanted to stay that way because, once the truth fully processed, he knew it would hurt too much.

  Less than a half-hour ago he’d been imagining a life with Laurel.

  “Are you really sure about all this, Harry?” Marietta looked like she was almost in tears. “You have to be absolutely sure.”