by Vella Day
Trent parked in front of the marble clad building and headed inside. He didn’t want to think back to the time when he used to come here to visit his all important and rich brother. The ache still dug at him.
The receptionist was new—or at least since his brother had worked there—and she told him to wait in the reception area while she went in search of Mr. Hamilton. Out of habit, Trent’s gaze shot to the office where Harmon used to work, occupied now by someone new. Instead of two bosses and two brokers, there was now one boss and about six brokers, implying the firm was doing quite well.
Shortly after the receptionist stepped into Frank’s office, he rushed out and held out his hand. “Trent, good to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances. Come on inside.”
Trent was taken aback. He’d expected a cooler reception. After all, Trent had practically accused Frank of setting up Harmon. To his credit, Frank had been quite shocked that Trent’s brother had been involved in something illegal. When he told Harmon later on about Frank’s reaction, his brother reminded him that stockbrokers were often the best actors in the world.
Frank motioned Trent take a seat in front of his desk. “I’m still in shock over Bill’s murder. Do you have any clues?” he asked, sitting down and straightening the items in front of him.
“We’re working on it.” He wasn’t about to give anything away.
Trent would have asked where Frank was at midnight the evening Bill was murdered, but most likely Frank would say he was asleep in bed next to his wife. The funny thing about late night murders was that it was easy to sneak out of a house, kill someone, and be back before anyone knew it.
He dismissed the thought as soon as he remembered that Cade had asked him what Harmon had been doing at the time of the murder, too.
“How can I help?” Frank asked.
“I’ll begin by asking who would want Bill dead?”
Frank slightly shook his head. “That would be any client who lost a lot of money, I suppose.”
He sounded like Bill’s wife. “You wouldn’t want to share that information with me, would you?”
Frank leaned back in his seat. “Detective, you know better than to ask. My livelihood would evaporate if I handed over the names of our clients.”
Trent expected that answer, but he needed to ask anyway. “Do you think there exists a client who would be irate enough to murder?”
“I hope to hell not. I sure don’t want to end up like Bill.” He visibly shuddered.
“Who stood to gain the most by Bill’s death?”
Frank placed a hand on his chest. “Are you asking if I’m in Bill’s will, or if the company is now mine after his death?” Trent hadn’t expected such defensiveness.
“It was merely a general question.” It was always better to remain non-committal.
Frank stabbed a hand through his slicked-back hair. “Bill and I did not discuss each other’s wills, though I imagine everything would go to Elaine. As for the company’s assets, she’ll get half of the profits for the rest of the year, and then her income stream ends since I’ll be the one doing the work from this point forward.”
Trent wasn’t getting far with this line of questioning, though he didn’t really expect to. “Let’s talk about Elaine Goddard.”
“What about her?”
Trying to act casual, Trent stretched out his legs. “If she were to benefit from her husband’s death, say from his life insurance policy, do you think she would be capable of killing him or having him killed?” Just because she was at her sister’s the night before, didn’t mean she couldn’t have snuck out.
Frank’s face colored. “Anything’s possible. Can’t say their marriage was a match made in heaven.”
Trent didn’t remember hearing about any discontent before, though there was probably no reason anyone would have brought it up. “Was Bill unfaithful?” Perhaps a jealous lover did him in.
“I think you’re barking up the wrong tree, Detective. Try Elaine.”
“She’s having an affair?” Perhaps it was her lover who decided to do in Bill. Christ. Trent had more suspects than he knew what to do with.
“I can’t speak from experience. I tried to stay as far away from her as possible. Perhaps you should ask Harmon.”
Trent’s blood pressure shot up. “Harmon’s been in jail for the last three years. He was released just last week.”
“I am very aware of that, Detective, but when Harmon was at the firm, Elaine set her sights on him.”
Trent’s gut tightened. “What are you suggesting?”
“All I’m saying is that Bill’s wife is trouble. She has a way about her to get people to do things for her. Now if you’ll excuse me, Detective, I have trades I need to place.”
Trent knew that was all he was going to extract from the man today, so he stood. “Thank you for your help. I hope you understand that I need to ask you to remain in town until we find Bill’s killer.”
His eyes widened. “Am I a suspect?”
“Everyone who knew Bill Goddard is a suspect. Good day.”
* * *
Even though Charlotte’s designs were solid, she was a little nervous about showing her work to Mrs. Goddard. She was confident that Patty, her boss back in Kalispell, would say they were the best she’d ever done, but since this was the first time she’d been out on her own, Charlotte wanted to make a good impression.
Charlotte rang the bell at the Goddard home, pleased that the sophistication of her design seemed to match the exterior of the house.
Footsteps sounded and a moment later a very elegant looking Mrs. Goddard opened the door and smiled. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?” she asked as she motioned her inside.
“No. My GPS was spot on.”
Mrs. Goddard nodded to the folder in Charlotte’s hand. “Are those for the new room?”
“Yes, and I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve come up with.”
“Me, neither. Let me show you to Bill’s office and then we can take a look at what you’ve done. I hope my dimensions and photos were good enough to give you an idea of what the place looked like.”
So did Charlotte, but if she had to redo the design, she would. Usually, she asked to see the place first, but Mrs. Goddard had been in such a hurry that Charlotte had agreed to do the drawings sight unseen.
Her client led her down a small hallway and then through a set of double doors where light from a bay window streamed in. Excitement filled her. “It’s really a lovely space.”
“I’m hoping someone can use Bill’s sofa, chairs, and desk.”
The furniture looked like fine leather and the desk could have been handmade. Charlotte still couldn’t believe Mrs. Goddard wanted to get rid of everything. “You sure you want me to take all of this? You don’t want to try to sell a few things?” There were books, a computer, plants, and beautifully framed photos, much of which looked valuable.
Mrs. Goddard waved a hand. “Bill decorated his office and picked out all of the furniture.” She pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “It’s too painful for me to look at his things any more. I’ve even arranged for someone to come in and clean out his closet. I just want his stuff gone.”
The poor woman. “I understand. Now that I’ve seen how much you have, I can let my movers know the scope of the project.”
“Thank you, dear. Let’s go back to the dining room where you can show me your plans.”
For the next half hour, Charlotte explained how she thought the room could best be configured. In the three years since she’d been doing design work, Mrs. Goddard had to be the easiest client to work with. She seemed very excited about all of Charlotte’s ideas.
“You said you were going to be able to clear out Bill’s office tomorrow?”
“Yes, I can have my people in here by nine. I can’t imagine it will take them more than an hour or two to clean out the place.” Thankfully, Mrs. Goddard had decided to keep the hard wood
floors and the drapes, making Charlotte’s job easier.
“Excellent. And when can you start painting?”
Charlotte liked the beige walls, but Mrs. Goddard said she preferred a sea-foam green, as it helped relax her. Wanting to please her, Charlotte said she would come up with a slightly different palette that she was sure her client would be happy with.
Mrs. Goddard kept glancing to the clock on the wall and Charlotte figured it was time for her to leave. She had a ton of things to do before tomorrow anyway. Charlotte stood. “I’m very excited to start on this project. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Charlotte slipped back into the car, her mind going a million miles an hour, trying to figure out if the beautiful sofa and chairs would fit in her small apartment. Mrs. Goddard had seemed quite pleased when Charlotte had asked if she could take the furniture for herself.
Coming to Rock Hard had been the best decision Charlotte had ever made. She couldn’t wait to tell Trent all about it.
Chapter Eleven
“Thanks guys, for all your help.” Sharon had found the college men for Charlotte, and they’d done a fantastic job this morning moving all of Mr. Goddard’s possessions. They took several bags to the trash, donated a ton to the women’s shelter, and delivered the cream leather sofa and two chairs to her place minutes after she’d arrived home.
“Anytime,” the largest of the three said.
She gave each of them a big tip. “I’ll be sure to call you on my next job.”
They all grinned. To them, this was probably easy money. They’d flirted with her all during the job, and while she was flattered, none of them interested her, even though they seemed nice and uncomplicated.
I want Trent, damn it.
Charlotte closed her front door and headed straight to the shower. Every bone in her body was fatigued, and she smelled bad from all the hard work of packing up Mr. Goddard’s books. She planned to ask Harmon if knew of anyone who might want the financial books.
Once the water warmed, Charlotte stepped under the relaxing flow, and as she soaped up her hands, she closed her eyes and pictured Trent rubbing his palms up and down her body. Her nipples hardened as she dragged her fingers over the tips. She then imagined Trent on his knees with his fingers sliding in and out of her pussy. When he’d touched her all over, he’d sent her into the outer stratosphere, and she could almost feel his hands on her now.
Because she had a client list to build and he had a killer to find, the timing wasn’t the best, but deep in her heart, she believed she was the right woman for him. The question was how to prove it to him.
Born with a logical mind, she understood the first step was to get Trent over to her new place. She didn’t want to wait too long before she invited him over, since he might already be a bit upset that she hadn’t told him she was moving in. Once he’d mentioned he had to help his brother on Sunday, she didn’t want to him to have to make a choice.
Excited to learn if he was free tonight, she finished her shower and then toweled dry. Knowing that men always liked it when a woman made a home cooked meal, she’d asked Sharon for some advice. Her father’s assistant claimed if she could just get a man to taste her food, she might be able to land him in bed. Charlotte adored Sharon, and the fact she had helped save her father’s life had endeared her to Charlotte even more.
After Sharon had helped with the unpacking on Sunday, she’d written down two fairly simple recipes she claimed all men liked. From the ingredients, the meal sounded wonderful. Charlotte had gone shopping Sunday night and purchased what she needed, figuring Trent would be over at some point.
If he couldn’t come tonight, she’d make some spaghetti for herself and prepare the fancy dinner another time. Before she dressed in something sexy for him, she called to see if tonight would be the night.
“Charlotte, are you okay?” Worry laced his voice.
She smiled at the overprotective man. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Trent waited a beat before answering. “No reason.”
Even if there had been, he might not share it. “I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but I moved into my own apartment Sunday, and wondered if you’d like to come over tonight?” She hoped she didn’t sound too needy, but she wanted to be with him again. The one time they’d made love only served to wet her appetite.
Besides jumping his bones, she wanted to learn more about him, and she bet he’d be willing to play a game or two of chess like they had when they were up in his dad’s cabin. If, after a few glasses of wine, they ended up in bed, even better. Charlotte was well aware it would take some work to break through his tough exterior.
“I should be finishing up here at the office in about a half an hour. Does that work for you?”
Pinpricks of joy sizzled over her skin, and moisture pooled between her legs. “It does if I can make you dinner.”
“You don’t have to. I can pick up something on the way.”
Sometimes men could be a bit dense. “I have to eat, and I thought you might like to share.”
Finally, she heard the chuckle she’d been waiting for. “Sounds fantastic. Can I bring a bottle of red or white wine?”
She had several in her wine rack, but Trent was the type who wouldn’t like coming empty-handed. He’d even brought a six-pack to Dad’s party. “White would be fantastic. I’ll start dinner whenever you arrive.” She then gave him the address, and he said he knew the building.
“See you soon.” He sounded excited, and her energy doubled. She couldn’t wait to seduce him.
* * *
Trent was thrilled that Charlotte had invited him over to her place. That way, if anything should happen, it wouldn’t look as if he only wanted her for sex. He wished he could spend hours chatting with her, finding out what she liked, but every time he came near her, his libido soared out of control. If only he knew what it was about her that drew him to her, he might be stay calm.
With the white wine in hand, he knocked on her door, pleased she’d found a place in town since it was safer than being in a house on the outskirts. While the man who had been after her was now in prison, Trent still had the urge to protect her.
The moment Charlotte opened the door, all thoughts of her stalker disappeared. His pulse raced and a few other body parts reacted. She had on a pretty skirt that showed off her long legs, along with an almost see-through blouse that made him want to rip it off. Clearly, she’d dressed to entice and wasn’t concerned her attire was better suited to summer than winter. He’d have to think about some gruesome detail of his case all during dinner in order to keep his hands to himself.
He stepped inside, closed the door, and held up the bottle. “Would you like me to open the wine?”
His smoothness meter had dipped to zero. As much as he wanted to hug her, he didn’t trust himself. She slipped the bottle from his fingers and smiled. Damn if she didn’t know what she did to him.
“There’s no hurry. I want to show you around first.”
Duh. That was why she’d invited him, and all he could think of was eating quickly and then being with her. “I’d love to see your place.” He slipped out of his jacket and placed in on the back of the dining room chair.
While the kitchen was small, he liked that it opened up to the dining room. She set the bottle on the counter and returned. “I only moved in two days ago and haven’t had time to do much in the way of decorating.”
“Looks great to me.” He’d always planned to put up pictures in his place, but he never seemed to have the time.
“I’ll show you where I do my work first. I was so excited to get two bedrooms.”
As they walked past the living room, he checked it out. It was simple, yet nice. He loved the large sofa and very comfortable chairs, but he’d pictured her buying something a bit more rustic. These pieces had more of a masculine flair. “It looks comfortable in here.”
“You like the sofa?”
“Yes.” He wouldn’t mind making love with her on that.
He whistled. “She could have made a lot at a consignment shop.”
“I know, right? She said the transition to being without him would be easier if she wasn’t surrounded by his things.” Charlotte threaded an arm through his. “You can enjoy it after dinner.”
His cock hardened. He hoped she was thinking of a repeat performance like the one they’d had on her dad’s couch.
Her office was small, but given the number of windows, it would be filled with a lot of light during the day. She had a desk and a long table that was covered with fabric swatches and other assorted decorating items. He should make his spare room into an office. “I like it.”
“Thank you.” She opened the door between the two rooms. “My bath is a bit small, but it works for me. Lastly, this is my bedroom.”
Trent had to work hard to hold in his groan. As soon as he saw the large bed piled deep with pillows, his mind shot to a place where it didn’t need to be. “Nice.” He sucked at knowing the right thing to say.
Charlotte turned and faced him. “You want to help me cook dinner?”
I’d rather help you undress. “Me? I can do the basics, as I demonstrated in the cabin, but if it’s fancier than scrambled eggs, hamburgers on the grill, or spaghetti, you might be on your own.”
She laughed. “We’ll try together. Sharon promised me it was a no fail recipe.”
He’d heard Vic brag about his assistant’s cooking. “Then I’m game.” He followed her into the kitchen and caught himself staring at her ass. He needed to take his mind off of sex. “How’s the decorating gig going?”
She swiveled around and his gaze latched onto her breasts—breasts that he could see quite well through her rather translucent top.
“We paint tomorrow, and then I can start doing my magic.”
“You’re moving quickly.” He always had suspected Charlotte of being a hellfire when it came to her job. “What’s Mrs. Goddard like to work with?”