Her Christmas Surprise (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Kristin Hardy

  “So why don’t you?”

  “Find him?”

  “You’ve got to have an idea where he is.”

  “I haven’t a clue. Anyway, you’d probably do better at finding him than I would. You’re another one who knows how to leave and stay gone, from what I hear.”

  “And now I’m back.”

  “So you are.” She set the muffin bag in the middle of the carrier and turned toward the door. “And now I’m gone.”

  He followed her outside. “Back to New York? Doesn’t seem like it would be too much fun right now.” He’d caught sight of the lurid headlines in the airport. Contempt had had him ignoring the scandal sheets with their blurred paparazzi pictures or he probably would have seen Keely. That was where the brittleness came in, he was guessing.

  “It’s none of your business where I go. The engagement’s off. I’m done with Bradley. And the rest of you. If it weren’t for your brother, I wouldn’t even be back in this town.”

  Just as Bradley was the reason he was back. Irritation pricked at him. “Tell me where Bradley is and we can all go home.”

  “I told you, I don’t know.”

  “You can’t really expect me to believe that.”

  “I don’t care what you believe.”

  She moved to turn away but he captured her free wrist in his hand. Her skin was smooth under his fingers, and impossibly soft. “Not so fast. We need to talk.”

  She turned on him. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

  “Oh, I think we’ve got plenty.”

  For a breathless instant, they stood, toe to toe, gazes clashing. The seconds ticked by, then abruptly, surprisingly, her eyes darkened. Desire punched through him, sudden and unexpected.

  Deliberately, she glanced down to where he held her. “Let me go.” Her voice was icy calm.

  He wondered if she had any idea how hard her pulse was thudding against his fingers.

  Well, well, well, he thought, Keely Stafford wasn’t nearly as cool as she tried to pretend. It hadn’t been his imagination. There was heat under that calm, composed exterior.

  “All right.” He was surprised at the effort it took to make his fingers release her. “For now,” he said.

  “For good,” she countered. “I’ve had enough of you Alexanders to last me a lifetime.”

  “You haven’t had me.”

  “You’re the last one I need.” Her voice was low.

  “Maybe,” he said, leaning closer and brushing one fingertip over her chin just to feel her skin. “But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me.”

  “Go to hell,” she snapped, and walked away.

  And he stood and watched her go.

  Chapter Three

  It was infuriating, Keely thought the next morning as she did a flip turn at the end of the lane in her parents’ indoor pool. He’d put his hand on her and she’d just stared at him like some idiot. Not like some idiot, like some ditzy thirteen-year-old staring at the football captain. So maybe Trey Alexander—excuse her, Lex—exuded a rough kind of charm, but she wasn’t about to let it work on her. One Alexander brother had been enough.

  One Alexander brother had been too much. Men, in general, were too much for her just then. She stroked rhythmically, trying to let the soothing slide of water wash away the tension. There was nothing to put a person off relationships quite like walking in on their fiancé in flagrante delicto. Every time she closed her eyes she could see it. How long had it been going on? How long had he been running around behind her back, making love with another woman? Or other women, plural. How many of them had there been?

  And had he ever come to her bed from another’s?

  In a swift, fluid movement, she pushed up out of the pool. It would be a long time before she trusted her judgment again when it came to men. It would be a long time before she gave herself a chance to.

  Keely rose to walk toward her towel and found it held by a tall, sandy-haired man with a bemused smile. “Need this, pumpkin?”

  She grinned at her father. “I’d give you a hug but I’d get you all wet.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Carter Stafford said, wrapping the thick, white towel around her and giving her a quick squeeze. “I’m working from my home office today.”

  “Is that why the khakis?” she asked, squeezing him back. Above them, light danced on the ceiling where it was reflected by the surface of the water.

  “Nope, I wear those pretty much every day. The perks of being the boss.” He winked.

  “You still like it, don’t you?” She stepped away to towel off her hair.

  “Beats working for a living.”

  “Speaking of work, I should get over to the shop and help Mom.”

  “You could just relax, you know. You’ve been here less than a week.”

  “And this is one of the busiest seasons of the year.” She hung the towel around her neck. “Especially with her being out tonight.”

  “Can I help it if this is when my company scheduled the Christmas party?”

  Her lips twitched. “You are CEO.”

  “You think they ask me about these kinds of things?” He snorted. “Besides, I know your mother and her business. There’s never a good time, especially at the holidays.”

  “It’s a good thing that I’m here to fill in, then, isn’t it?” Keely said over her shoulder as she walked through the French doors that led into the main house.

  He followed her. “Why don’t you come with us, instead? Give me a chance to show you off.”

  She shook her head. “The town tree lighting is tonight. People will be in a buying mood, so we’ll want the shop open.” Not just for flowers, but for the gift area where they sold ornaments and cards, jewelry and the kinds of foolish, pretty things that made Christmas morning surprises.

  “All for the sake of the shop, eh?” Carter asked. “Nothing to do with the fact that you’ve never missed a tree lighting yet?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  “I see. Maybe we should stay here and go with you. After all, I am CEO, as someone just pointed out to me.”

  “And as such you have responsibilities.” She grinned. “You’re just going to have to tough it out and go swill champagne and caviar with the other swells. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  “You’re supposed to be taking a rest cure,” he scolded.

  “If I just sat around, I’d go nuts. I’m kind of like my parents that way. Got to be useful.”

  “You had to start working too soon,” he said, his smile fading a bit.

  “Dad, everyone works in high school and college.”

  “You, of all people, shouldn’t have had to.”

  She flashed a smile and rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “It was good for my character.” She waggled her eyebrows and did her best Groucho Marx imitation. “And I am nothing, if not a character.”

  “She could lose the house?” Lex stared across the smooth, polished ebony of the desk and into the eyes of Frank Burton, his parents’ longtime personal attorney.

  “That can’t be possible.” Olivia spoke up from where she sat by Lex in a powder blue suit and pearls.

  “You’re listed on the boards of five of the LLCs Bradley set up. The shell corporations, I mean, the ones he used to funnel the money away.” He glanced at the sheet before him. “Correction, five that they know of. They’re quite certain there are more.”

  “But I don’t remember any of this,” Olivia said positively. “And I would have. I don’t just sign things without reading them, you know.”

  “He wouldn’t have needed to have you sign, not if he had access to your social-security number and your passport. Did he?”

  That stopped her. “I don’t know. He had access to my office. I suppose he could have found anything if he was looking for it.”

  “At any rate, that’s only part of the trouble. The most damning fact is that he funneled money through your bank account. He deposited five million dollars on ten occasions ove
r the past two years.” Burton held up a thick manila folder. “It’s all documented.”

  Olivia stared. “Five million dollars?”

  “Times ten. Fifty million, all told. The question is, why? Do you have something to show cause? A receipt, maybe? Records of business transactions? It’s important that we demonstrate the transfers were legit.”

  “I didn’t…I don’t know anything about it,” she said helplessly.

  Burton frowned at her over his glasses. “They were five million dollar deposits. Granted, the sums you receive from your quarterly dividends and real-estate holdings are as big, if not bigger, but still, where did you think it came from? And didn’t you wonder when it was transferred out?”

  “A bank error?” she suggested.

  Burton gave her a skeptical stare. “Ten times? Olivia, if you know something, now’s the time to tell us.”

  “I don’t…I can’t…I—” She turned to Lex, a thread of desperation in her voice. “Your father always did our finances. You know how he was. When he passed away, I was just…” She firmed her lips. “There was so much to see to, the funeral arrangements, notifications, wills. Bradley offered to take care of things. It was a relief to hand it over to him. And then it just became habit,” she trailed off.

  “You played right into his hands,” Burton said. “He used his access to launder money through your accounts, bringing it in from his shell corporations and porting it out to an accomplice.”

  Olivia closed her eyes for a moment. “I can’t believe he’d do it.”

  “The feds can.” Burton’s expression was grim. “They’ve got enough evidence to consider you involved. That means all of your possessions and holdings are subject to seizure.”

  “All of it?” She paled. “Everything?”

  Lex leaned forward. “But she didn’t keep the money.”

  “Not at that step. They don’t know where it eventually wound up, though. She could still have it somewhere.”

  “And on those grounds they can take her house?”

  “They can take it all,” Burton assured him. “Not right away, of course. First, they’ve got to get to the bottom of the whole scheme, and it’s tangled enough that it could take a year or more. Quite frankly, that’s the reason they’re sure his fiancée is involved.”

  His fiancée? Keely? Lex frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s an accountant, didn’t you know? Worked for Briarson Financial. It’s unlikely someone like Bradley would have known enough to carry off this kind of scheme on his own and get past his internal auditors. With someone of her background helping him cook the books, though, it would be a cakewalk.”

  “She’s an accountant?” Lex had assumed she’d majored in something like English literature or art history, one of those degrees for the ladies who lunched. Clearly, he’d been mistaken. “So they think she had something to do with it?”

  “They’re almost certain of it. Mind you, they haven’t got any evidence yet, but they will. Trust me, they will.”

  “If she’s involved, she’s in a position to clear my mother’s name, right?” Lex asked. Forget about vulnerable mouths and shadowed eyes. If she had the answers, he’d worm them out of her.

  “Any testimony you can get from someone who’s involved would certainly help Olivia’s case,” Burton answered. “What we really need is to find your brother but he seems to have gone into the wind.”

  Keely, though, Keely was right here.

  “We should talk to the fiancée,” Burton said.

  Lex felt a slow-burning anger awake. “Leave it to me.” And this time he’d get some straight answers, before his mother lost everything she had.

  Olivia took a breath and straightened her posture in a move Lex recognized. No tears, no weakness here. “What happens next, Frank?”

  “Nothing immediately. They’ll keep investigating until they’ve got it all worked out, put their case together. Then it’ll go to trial. With or without Bradley.”

  “So we have time,” Lex said.

  “Some. The sooner you can get the fiancée to come clean, the better off your mother will be.”

  And the sooner he could go back to his life, escape the morass that was already beginning to suck him in.

  Abruptly, he rose. “Then I guess I’d better get on it,” he said, holding his hand out to Burton.

  “You hear from Bradley, you let me know immediately,” the lawyer said as he walked them out.

  “You know it.”

  The carpet in the hallway outside Burton’s downtown Stamford offices was thick and plush underfoot, the color of the brandy Pierce had favored. Ahead, light streamed through the glass walls that surrounded the ten-floor atrium lobby.

  “I just can’t believe it was Bradley,” Olivia said as they waited for the elevator. “She must have pushed him into it.”

  She might have been involved, but Lex had a pretty good idea nobody pushed Bradley anywhere. There was one trait they’d both inherited from their father, his stubborn single-mindedness. It had fueled Lex’s rise to the top of a difficult and dangerous field. It had also helped Bradley take a controlling position in Alexander Technologies, the position that had let him get away with his crimes.

  For a while.

  “Mom,” Lex said gently, “no one made Bradley run.”

  But if Keely Stafford had helped him, then she knew how to untangle this rat’s nest. And she damned well needed to start talking.

  “Bradley doesn’t know what to do with the mess she’s gotten him into,” Olivia maintained, but her voice was uncertain.

  “Have you ever, in your entire life, seen Bradley do anything he didn’t want to do?”

  “He couldn’t have done this on his own. I won’t believe it.”

  Translation: she didn’t want to.

  She had to face it, though, or she’d never get past it. “No one made him gamble, Mom.” Lex kept his voice gentle. “You saw the statements from the pit bosses. Brad got in trouble, he wanted out, and he wasn’t too concerned about how.”

  Abruptly, the starch went out of Olivia’s posture and for just a moment she sagged against the railing that looked down over the lobby. “What am I going to do?” she whispered. “They’re going to take it all. How could he do this? How could he leave me with nothing?”

  And now she did cry. All he could do was gather her against him and stand there, helplessly patting her back. No. Not helpless, never helpless. There was a way to fix this and he would find it.

  Starting with Keely Stafford.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be all right here tonight?” Jeannie stood behind the counter at the flower shop, buttoning her coat.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve got Lydia coming in later to help.”

  “The mistletoe for the novelty hangers is on the table.”

  “I know. I was the one who put it there, remember? Now git.” Keely draped her mother’s scarf around her neck. “You’ve got a party to primp for. How else are you going to get to dissect the centerpieces if you’re not there?”

  “What would make you think I’d do such a thing?” Jeannie asked.

  Keely grinned. “I know you too well. Have a great time.” She kissed her mother’s cheek.

  “Thank you again. And don’t spend the whole night working. Go out and watch the tree lighting. You should have some fun.”

  “Out,” Keely ordered, pointing at the door.

  “I’m going,” Jeannie said hastily.

  Keely watched the door close behind her. In a while, Lydia would show up and their gab fest would begin. For now, Keely had the shop to herself. She breathed in air scented with roses, carnations, hyacinths, and remembered.

  The shop had defined her life in so many ways. One minute, the Staffords had had money, country club memberships, prestige. The next, she’d found herself pitching in to help pay the bills, filling out reams of scholarship and loan applications to cover college. The long, hot, lazy summers she’d grown up with had been
replaced by cool days in the shop, wearing the tailored black shirt and trousers that were the uniform at Jeannie’s.

  Then Bradley had come through the door to buy a bouquet for his mother. And Keely had fallen as deeply into infatuation with him as she had at fourteen, when he’d been the star of the country-club tennis court and she’d prayed for him to ask her to play doubles with him.

  Now, five years later, she was back at the florist shop, tying a ribbon on an arrangement of mums. All those years of study, the internships, the work at Briarson, blown apart by Bradley. She struggled to push down the surge of anger as she carried the vase into the glass-fronted, walk-in refrigerator that held orchids, roses, daylilies and the other exotics.

  Behind her, a jingling signaled the entry of a customer. With a sigh of resignation, Keely turned.

  Only to see Lex Alexander.

  Suddenly, abruptly, the shop felt very small. And very empty. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t look around at any of the arrangements. Just headed straight for her.

  Keely met him at the door to the refrigerator. The shallow space in front of the tiers of flowers was far too small for two. “Looking for some flowers?” she asked.

  “Looking for you.”

  He was taller than she’d realized the day before, topping her five ten so that she found herself staring at his chin. In defense, she raised her own. “I’m working.”

  “The shop’s empty. We need to talk.”

  His eyes were dark, turbulent as he stared down at her. She felt that same stir of awareness she had before. Her pulse thudded in her ears. He was too big, too strong. Too there. She took a breath and pushed past him. “I have things to do,” she said without turning.

  “Fine. I’ll talk with you while you do them.”

  Keely made a noise of frustration and walked to the counter. “I don’t see what we’ve got to talk about.”

  “How about this little scheme you’ve got going with Bradley, for a start.”

  She did look at him, then. “I don’t have any scheme going with Bradley.”

  “The feds say you do.”

  “The feds don’t have a shred of evidence.” Because there was none.