Seducing an Heiress

by Judy Teel

  The ache of loss, fresh and sharp as if she were thirteen again and her mother newly gone, gripped Dakota. Pressing her face into Trey's shoulder, she cried softly into his shirt. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her, one hand rubbing her back in comforting, soothing circles.

  She wasn't surprised that her father had kept a mistress and been involved in criminal activities, and the fact that she wasn't filled her with a feeling of defeat and shame that she never would have expected.

  More than ever she wished they'd found that real birth certificate she used to daydream about. She'd never wanted so desperately to not be the Jamison heiress.

  After a while her tears slowed and she realized there was no point in mourning things she had no control over. She pulled away from Trey, blew her nose, and took a deep breath.

  "Mom went to a lot of trouble to give me those papers. We better see what's in them." She grabbed another tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

  "I glanced at them while you were reading the letter," Trey said, barely-suppressed excitement lighting his bruised face.

  Her breath quickened as uneasiness threaded through her stomach. "And?"

  "Carl Jamison the Third was up to his neck in a very big Ponzi scheme with some very dangerous players." He handed her the papers. "And my guess is he's still at it."

  * * *

  Trey watched Dakota as she read quickly through the contract Jamison and three other prominent businessmen had signed twenty-five years ago. The idea that maybe he hadn't been so unlucky in his parents ran through him, making him feel uncomfortably introspective.

  He'd been forced to analyze his feelings more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in twenty-eight years and he was pretty sure he hated it. On the other hand, if he'd spent a little more time at it, maybe he wouldn't have gotten them into this mess in the first place.

  Seeing the pain in Dakota's eyes as she assimilated the fact that her father was as far from being worthy of human compassion and regard as a parent could get, tore at him. He wanted to make things better for her and he wasn't sure how.

  He hadn't lived the best life a man could live. There had to be something in there that they could use.

  Glancing at the thin curtains covering the window of her bedroom, he could see the sky melting from pitch black to a murky gray. Dawn was coming.

  How could they use twenty-five year old evidence to turn the tables on Jamison? They didn't even have a way to get it to the authorities.

  Dakota folded the papers and letter together and reverently placed them back into the envelope. "Can you get the compartment to lock again?"

  "Sure." Trey took the packet and locked it in the false bottom of the jewelry box.

  She stared at the window, her gaze unfocused. As he watched her, a satisfying warmth moved through his chest. He knew what the oddly tender feeling meant now. He'd known since that last morning in her apartment.

  It scared the hell out of him to feel this way, but he was glad, too. He knew it made him vulnerable, stupid even. He had the sore face to prove that. But it also made him strong in a way he never could have anticipated. Even if she never felt the same way about him, knowing Dakota had enriched his life.

  He broke from his musings when he realized she was staring him, her eyes wide and unguarded.

  "What is it, Trey?" she asked, concern overlaying her softly spoken words.

  He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but the pull on his mouth made his split lip sting. "It's almost morning. Any ideas how we're going to get out of this?"

  Speculation flickered through her eyes. Somehow she knew that's not what he'd been thinking about. "We can't really use Mom's evidence," she said, apparently deciding not to press the issue. "If we try, they'll just take it from us."

  Trey put the jewelry box behind him and wrapped his hands around hers. His new feelings buzzed up a notch, sending awareness of her through his body in a way he didn't think would ever get old. "You can't sign the contract."

  She nodded, her expression sad.

  "I know a great lawyer who owes me a favor. He'll get me out of this."

  "Dad has a whole team of the best, most ruthless lawyers money can buy. And probably several judges. You don't stand a chance."

  "I don't care about any of that. I only want to know you're safe from him."

  Deep in her soft, brown eyes, the speculation flared again. "Why, Trey? This isn't like you."

  Shame pinched his conscience. She was right, but he couldn't change his past. He could only move forward.

  "They're going to be here any minute," he said, squeezing her hands, gently. "I might not get another chance to tell you I've fallen in love."

  Dismay spread over her face and her bottom lip trembled. "Oh." She slid her hands out of his and clasped them in her lap, studying them like they were suddenly the most fascinating things in the world.

  His heart gave a stutter and he realized he'd stupidly hoped that maybe she felt the same way.

  "Who is she?" she asked.

  "Who is who?" Trey studied the flowery design on the canopy over his head and tried to get a handle on the lump in his throat. It wasn't the end of the world, he told himself, but it sure did feel like it.

  "Who are you in love with?"

  He looked at her. "I'm in love with you. Isn't that what I said?"

  "You said you'd fallen in love." She narrowed her eyes at him. "That's not the same thing."

  Trey replayed the conversation in his mind. Damned if he hadn't. Why did he always say the wrong thing to her when it was really important?

  "You're an idiot," she said, warmly. "I can't believe I'm in love with an idiot."

  "You love me?" Joy burst through his heart. She loved him! "That's good. That's really good." He grinned at her, or at least tried to.

  She attempted a scowl, but her smile broke through ruining the effect. "It is good." She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. "We can't let Dad know. He'll find a way to use it against us."

  "Too late for that." Trey gently worked his jaw back and forth to ease the stiffness. "The only hope we have of getting out of here is one helluva good bluff."

  The casual jest sparked the beginnings of an idea. He turned it around in his mind, spinning out all the ways it could go wrong and the one way it might go right.

  He looked her deep in the eyes. "Dakota, do you trust me?" They'd have to work like a well-oiled experienced con team to pull this off and she'd have to carry most of the load.

  Her expression turned serious. "I do."

  While he gave her a rough outline of his plan, he carefully placed the jewelry box exactly where it had been, even running his shirt tail over it to wipe off any prints they might have left.

  He'd just stepped away from it when the door opened and the head of security came into the room. His gaze darted over the curtain rod and the radio before focusing back on them. Trey thought he saw a flicker of admiration in his eyes, but he wasn't certain.

  "It's time," the taller man said to Dakota in his usual flat tone.

  * * *

  The head of security took them into the solarium where her father had breakfast every morning. When she lived here she was forbidden to eat with him until she could keep her mouth shut unless he asked a direct question.

  She could count on one hand the times he'd done that. Why he'd bothered making her join him had always been a mystery. Now that she knew more about him, she wouldn't be surprised to learn that it was part of his plan to train her to be afraid of him.

  It would be sweet to turn the tables on him, for once. If their plan didn't backfire.

  They sat down at the opposite end of the table from her father where two other places had been set. Marcus posted himself by the French doors that normally would be opened out onto the hall, hands clasped loosely in front of him, legs braced slightly apart, eyes staring straight ahead at nothing.

  "Do you have the contract, Marcus?" her father asked without looking up from his soft
-boiled eggs.

  Marcus produced the blasted papers from somewhere in the depths of his suit coat. When he'd managed to swipe them off the desk, she had no idea.

  Her father ran his gaze over one page and then the other, flipping through them faster and faster. Finally he threw the lot of them onto the table. "None of these have been signed," he said, his steady voice a frightening dichotomy to the fury blazing in his eyes.

  "Is that a question, Dad?" she asked remembering everything Trey had said about how to play their hand. She reached for the crystal pitcher in front of her and poured herself a glass of orange juice. "Juice?" she asked Trey.

  "Please."

  Her father's eyes narrowed, taking on a calculating gleam. "Bacon?" He picked up the platter in front of him and held it out to Trey. "You won't get much of this kind of food in prison."

  "After you." Trey gave him a half smile, his eyes hard.

  Dakota felt like she was watching two professional poker players square off. She prayed she was up to the game. A lot depended on it.

  Dad's eyes flickered to Marcus. The security guard stepped forward and laid a folded contract in front of her. "Perhaps you're waiting for assurance that I'll keep my word," her father said.

  She opened the papers and saw a cover letter stating all the charges that would be dropped upon delivery of the employment agreement from her. The bundle underneath was a copied report, the top of each page bearing the address of social services from a county in Virginia.

  Not a contract. Rosie's adoption papers. Her heart beat faster as she scanned down the document. At the bottom, a familiar signature caught her eye. She hid her amazement as she read the name several times. She could hardly believe it.

  "What's that?" Trey asked, nodding at the papers.

  She held the report out to him, but before his fingers touched it, Marcus took it away. Trey must have realized what she'd been holding, because a shadow of anger passed through his eyes.

  She hoped she was the only one to see it. They couldn't afford any show of weakness.

  The employment contract landed in front of her along with a pen. She picked it up. Time to throw the gauntlet.

  Looking directly at her father, she tore the contract in half.

  His expression never changed, but a deep red flush crept up his neck and over his face. "Marcus," he ground out.

  The security guard stepped toward Trey.

  Dakota held up her hand, just like she'd seen her father do a thousand times. To her gratification, Marcus stopped.

  "Have you ever noticed how people have a way of talking around someone when they think they're too stupid to understand?" She raised an eyebrow at her father.

  He let out a long breath, much like she'd seen parents do in her restaurant when a toddler refused to behave. "You have a point?"

  "I have a story. One I think you might be interested in."

  "I find that difficult to believe."

  "Picture this. Over twenty years ago an ambitious businessman is asked by some powerful friends to join them in a scheme that will triple their money in a matter of months."

  Her father's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly.

  "The plan works, so he decides to try it on his own. He's so successful he's able to form a leather goods company to help hide his profits. He continues on, careful to only take money from people who are powerless to hurt him if they ever discover they've been had." She smiled, cold and confident like she'd seen him do. "Do you like my story so far?"

  Her father leaned back in his chair, his face a mask of unconcern, even though a muscle ticked along his jaw. "Quite the fairy tale."

  "One day, without realizing it, he marks a representative of a powerful group. With the scheme in its last stages, the investor stands to lose all of his money. Things are guaranteed to get ugly. Even dangerous. So our business man finds a buyer for one of his profitable lines. Unfortunately, this buyer will only take it off his hands if the face of the line comes with it."

  She leaned forward. "Unfortunately for him, the face of the line has other plans. She knows about the business man's illegal dealings. She refuses to cooperate."

  His eyes glittered with malice. "Does this fictional person have proof?"

  "She does."

  Her father's confidence wavered, and then reasserted itself. "If that were true she would have used it before now."

  "She hesitated out of family loyalty. But then the businessman did something she could never forgive."

  Her father glanced at Trey and then back to her. "Show me."

  Trey laughed, and the genuine quality of it threw her father off like nothing else they had played up to that point.

  Dakota gave her father a look of reproach just like they'd practiced. "I learned from the best, Dad. Let's just say it's in a safe place."

  "Ready to be released to the authorities, but we hope that won't be necessary," Trey added.

  A drop of sweat slid down her father's temple. "That's the oldest trick in the book."

  "That's because it works." Trey's mouth lifted into one of his cocky half smiles.

  Her father pushed his plate away and gazed down the table at them both. "How does this story of yours end?"

  Dakota took a deep breath and mentally crossed her fingers. "Our business man decides to cut his losses. The face of his line and her friend go on with their lives and never hear from him again."

  "Unless he wants life to get very uncomfortable," Trey put in.

  "I don't like to be threatened," her father growled, zeroing in on Trey.

  "It's only a fairy tale, Jamison."

  The two men sized each other up for a moment.

  "Marcus, return their things and order a limo to the airport. My guests are leaving."

  A wave of relief washed through Dakota which she barely kept from showing. Time enough for that later once they were well clear of the spider's web.

  Her father's security officer opened the French doors and stepped back. "Miss Jamison."

  "Marcus." As she and Trey passed him she could have sworn she saw a gleam of approval in the tall man's eyes.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  "And when you got in the limo the security guy had put it there on the seat?" Chelsea asked, admiring the jewelry box in her lap.

  "The note's still in there if you want to see it." Dakota smiled as Trey reached out and took her hand. He did that a lot, as if needing to reassure himself that she were real. After all they'd been through, she felt the same way about him.

  Chelsea lifted the lid and took out the scrap of paper. "Well played, Miss Jamison. Marcus," she read. "Short and to the point," she commented. She looked up. "What about the papers? Are they still in here?"

  "One of the first things we did when we got out of Long Island was meet with Trey's attorney. If anything happens, my mother's letter and the evidence she found goes to Aines with instructions to release the information."

  "Create a little smoke and let the authorities find the fire,' Trey said, a satisfied gleam in his eye.

  "I doubt it will come to that, though. Dad has bigger worries than threatening us. I think Trey hit pretty close to home when he guessed what was really going on."

  Chelsea's eyes widened. "So you think he really did need to sell Dakota Nights so he could get the money to cover his latest Ponzi scheme?"

  "My only regret is that we couldn't stop him permanently," Trey said. "He should be in prison where he can't hurt anyone else."

  Her friend looked at her and her face softened with concern. "How are you doing with all this, Dakota? I mean, knowing he's...well, that your father is pretty much a criminal?"

  The anger and disappointment she'd felt for so much of her life still sat like a dull ache in Dakota's chest, but every day it faded a little more. Instead of wishing for what could never be, she wanted to focus on what was. Trey had given her strong, steady support through that process and she treasured him for it.

  "Biology is about all Dad and I share," she
said. "In every way that counts we're as different as two people can be. He's always been a stranger to me. I'm coming to peace with that."

  "You're a good woman, Dakota. Better than me, that's for sure." Chelsea set the jewelry box down on the coffee table. "I'm glad you're back safely. I had a list of volunteers all lined up to rescue you. I admit I'm relieved it didn't come to that."

  Dakota grinned, picturing Mrs. Tilster and her sister leading the townspeople in an assault on her father's mansion. She would have paid money to see that.

  "Well, I better go. I have some new clients to process. Business is picking up thanks to that new advertising you set us up with, Trey. But before I go...." Her eyes sparkled with excitement and she darted over to the sofa. "Let me see it, again."

  Dakota held out her left hand, happiness bubbling up inside her.

  "Just gorgeous." Chelsea admired her new engagement ring. "Well worth hanging out in New York for a couple of extra days." She gave Trey a quick glance. "I approve."

  "That's a relief," he said, his voice touched with dry humor.

  "None of your sass, Peters," she quipped as she headed for the door. "Remember, you were once my secretary."

  The door closed behind her. "We prefer the term Administrative Assistant," Trey said. "When will she learn that?"

  "Let it go, honey."

  He turned to her and kissed the side of her neck. "Have you decided where you want to spend the honeymoon?"

  Dakota tilted her head to give him better access and sighed with pleasure when he took the hint. "Since the wedding's at Christmas, someplace warm would be nice."

  Trey worked his way up along her jaw and closed his mouth over hers. Heat bloomed low in her belly, spreading out in tingling waves into her breasts.

  A shame they didn't have time to do anything about this.

  Gently disengaging herself from Trey's arms, she touched his cheek tenderly. The bruises were slowly fading and the doctor had told them that his nose was only fractured and should heal without any complications. She was so grateful it hadn't been worse.