Trouble with Nathan

by Anna J. Stewart

  “We’ll take care of it, you mean.”

  “You don’t think you have enough going on?”

  “If someone’s coming after the family, I want in. Malcolm will, too, since you all have seen fit to adopt him.”

  “You’re the one who married him,” Nathan joked. “Seriously, Sheila, let me take the lead on this, okay? I know where you both are if I need you.”

  “Fine.” That she didn’t fight him or argue only proved how worried she was about her husband. “Take the lead. But don’t keep secrets from us. I don’t think I can handle any more secrets.”

  “Speaking of secrets.” Nathan winced. “We’re going to have to talk about Morgan.”

  “You mean tell her we’re Nemesis?” Sheila sighed and closed her eyes. “Yeah, I figured as much. Speaking of our little sister.” She held out her hand and waggled her fingers at him to bring him closer to her current painting. “Take a look. It’s for the lobby of the center. Took me a while to decide what to paint and then a couple of days ago it was just there. I knew.”

  Nathan stepped around next to her and looked at what—according to Malcolm—had kept Sheila up every night for the last week.

  Every molecule of air swept from his lungs in a silent rush, his heart squeezing as he looked at the image of their late mother, their brother Colin, and Brandon Monroe, one of Morgan’s late foster children, playing in a lush park, arms stretched up to the heavens as sunlight streamed down and around them. Featherlight clouds danced along the edges of their bodies as their smiles radiated utter happiness and joy.

  Gone too soon. All of them. And yet Sheila’s painting made him feel as if he were seeing them now, as they were, wherever they were. Happy. They looked happy.

  “Well?” Sheila bounced on her stool as she gripped his arm with her hands. “What do you think?”

  “I think,” he croaked, unaccustomed to the emotion caught in his throat. “I think I’m very grateful you started painting again.” He disentangled his arm from her grasp and draped it over her shoulders, bringing her in against him as he pressed a kiss on the top of her tumble of hair. “You have such a gift,” he whispered. “Morgan’s going to cry her eyes out.”

  “Yeah, cause that’s so hard to make her do.” Sheila brushed away uncharacteristic tears from her own cheeks. “I’m scared, Nathan.” She leaned her head against his chest. “Morgan’s bound to find out the truth about us and Nemesis and what we’ve done. What’s going to happen to us if they find out—”

  “Stop it.” Nathan held her tighter even as he struggled to keep his own doubts at bay. Somehow he had to find out what Laurel Scott had on them. On Nemesis. If that meant playing nice, if that meant getting close, so be it. He could think of worse things. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Malcolm or the foundation.” He’d protect his family and their legacy. No matter what he had to do. “You just concentrate on getting your husband through his treatment and let me worry about everything else.”

  “Given the way things are looking, Malcolm and I are getting the easy end of the deal.” But Sheila sniffled and shook her head. “God, I’m so weepy these days. Tell me you have a plan.”

  “Of course I have a plan. I’m going to find that crown.” And Laurel Scott was going to help.

  ***

  If Laurel ever considered that the Tremaynes were different from the rest of the ridiculously rich dynasties trolling the streets of Lantano Valley, the Lantano Valley Times proved her wrong.

  The double shot espresso rolled in her stomach as she flipped through the Saturday morning edition. Lorenzo’s Café, the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop just off the main stretch of downtown, bustled with enthusiastic patrons. Laurel managed to snag the last pedestal table in the far corner by the window. Locking her burgundy bag between her foot and the wall, she crossed her legs and skimmed the uninformative front page that made no mention of Jackson Tremayne’s visit to the police precinct.

  “I wonder how much that cost them,” she muttered as she ripped apart the chocolate croissant and cast flaky crumbs about the table and the half-finished crossword she’d been working. She’d lay good money Nathan Tremayne had beelined to the Lantano Valley Times offices and bribed them into ignoring his father’s unofficial visit to the police. She’d let Nathan’s charm get to her and forgotten that money equaled power equaled influence. As if she needed reminding.

  Why else was every penny she’d made safely invested, safely hidden, and doing the most good it could for her, Joey’s, and Poppy’s future? At least Alastair had been generous enough to let her keep the significant amount of money she earned as an investigator. She only hoped he didn’t realize that cash would let her do the one thing she hadn’t been able to do before: disappear.

  Unlike the Tremaynes, who probably wielded their checkbook like a magic wand. Typical.

  Thanks to her source at the police station—a source who was as quick with an answer as she could be with a wink and a smile—she knew the district attorney was taking a different tactic where Jackson was concerned now and keeping the elder Tremayne under surveillance.

  All the better for her. Having Jackson out and about would make keeping track of him—and the rest of the Tremaynes—all the easier.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Laurel scrunched her toes in her thick-strapped pumps and glanced up, trailing her eyes over Nathan’s casually attired frame. She couldn’t help but appreciate the way he filled out the khaki slacks and olive green T-shirt. Biceps that couldn’t have come easy flexed as he gestured with his own coffee, a hunk of straw blond hair falling across his eyes in a way that made her want to put it in place.

  And oh, that heat was back. She could feel it wafting across the table, tempting, seducing. Where was a fire extinguisher when she needed it? “Have a seat,” she said, her voice getting ahead of her brain. With Nathan’s arrival, her flirtation and innocent inquisition of the security officer outside the Tremayne building earlier this morning as to Nathan’s routine paid off in spades.

  “Find what you were looking for?” He gestured to the paper covered in crumbs as he leaned his impressive forearms on the table.

  Whoa boy. Something about a man’s well-toned arms had always loosened something inside her. She tucked her hair behind her ear and forced her hand into her lap to hide the nerves that only seemed to appear when she was around this man. “I guess the district attorney decided against arresting your father despite his confession.”

  “Details are on page three above the fold.” There wasn’t a hint of apology in his tone.

  Laurel pushed her pastry aside and flipped open the paper, the bolded headline at the top summing up a story that was sure to incur sympathy throughout the city. “A medication mishap?” Laurel skimmed the article and felt her eyebrows tick up with each new sentence. “That’s . . . creative.” And, in Alastair’s words, damned clever.

  “I didn’t even know he was taking blood pressure pills,” Nathan said as Laurel felt her own blood pressure spike. “According to his doctor, this particular prescription has been linked to a number of cases of psychosomatic effects that cause delusions and in some instances hallucinations, especially if it’s accidentally mixed with alcohol. We’re looking into a private clinic where he can relax.”

  “A private clinic located where?” Laurel closed the paper and folded her hands on top of it, forcing herself to meet Nathan’s oh-so-innocent gaze. “Somewhere without an extradition agreement with the United States?”

  “Not that there’s a reason to extradite, but Malibu, actually,” Nathan said. “My brother-in-law has a house there. Dad’s taken a leave of absence from the business. It’s been a rough couple of years for him.”

  “And you think this breakdown is the reason he pretended to confess to being a master criminal?”

  “You do have your ear to the ground, don’t you?” Nathan pinned
her with that assessing gaze of his. “I think a person’s mental health can be affected by any number of things, Miss Scott.” Some of the friendliness faded beneath suddenly steeled eyes. “Medication, stress, the death of a loved one. The combination of all three can be toxic to the system and cause erratic behavior.”

  “And I suppose you’re a medical professional on top of being a so-called security expert?”

  “There’s nothing so-called about my expertise.” The sharpness of his tone told her she’d hit a nerve challenging his status in the industry. Good. She did better with antagonism than she did charm, especially when she was out of her element. “I’m also a son who’s concerned about his father. A father who’s lost a son, a wife, and has been overworking himself for years in an effort to cope and escape.”

  “I know about your brother and mother.” Laurel softened her voice, reminding herself not to take a hard stance on this particular subject. She might have to wear a mask most of the time, but there were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed, especially when the last thing she wanted to do was alienate him when she’d been ordered to keep tabs on him. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “It’s all of our loss, but thank you.” He took a long drink, scanned the still-crowded coffee house. “It’s feeling stuffy in here. You want to get out? Go for a walk? There’s a park a few blocks away. Not that busy on a Saturday morning. I bet you haven’t spent a lot of time outside the museum since you got here.”

  “One of those Lantano Valley attractions you were telling me about last night?” Great. Because the one thing she wanted to see was more enticements for Lantano Valley.

  “Maybe.”

  Laurel had to force herself not to glance away. There was something mesmerizing in his gaze that made her worry yet again that he’d see too much. She didn’t want to like him. She couldn’t afford to. But the loyalty he showed his father was more than admirable; it was damned sexy. Dammit, this would be so much easier if he was a creep. Nathan Tremayne, her assignment. If she wanted her life back, she didn’t have a choice but to stay close. To lie to him. The loathing that had settled inside her five years ago shifted and had her, not for the first time, wondering if there was some way—any other way—to get out from under Alastair’s control.

  “I have some time.” Besides, her vitamin D level could probably use a sunshine recharge.

  “After you.” He got to his feet, came around to hold her chair for her as she picked up her purse, her coffee, and the last of her breakfast, tossing the latter into the trash on their way out. “So is there a trick to those?”

  “To what?” Laurel shrugged on a lightweight grey panel leather jacket over her paisley cami, grateful she’d thought to bring layers this morning. She felt much more in control now that they were standing eye to eye, or as close as she could come with him. He glanced down at her feet. “The shoes?” She rotated her right foot. “Practice.” Power. Men had a harder time ignoring—or underestimating—a woman in heels.

  “You and my sister should compare closets. I think she was born in heels.”

  “All the better to see you with.” She flipped her hair out from under the collar of her jacket. “A woman has to have at least one weakness. Mine is designer clothes.” Albeit off the rack, not to mention a few seasons behind. A woman also had to keep to her budget when she was stashing every penny she could.

  “Yeah, you and Sheila would get along great.” He led the way down the street, past a collection of stores, including a two-story brick bookstore called Pages Unlimited that Laurel couldn’t wait to explore. “I used to tease her that she could put Barbie out of business.”

  Laurel pressed her lips into a thin smile. Growing up in the foster care system, she’d lost count of the number of Christmases hoping Santa—or whoever she was living with at the time—would give her a Barbie as a present. The doll could be a friend. Someone she could take with her when it was time to move on. By the time she’d had any stability she’d learned to stop asking. It wasn’t until she’d lived those few months with Poppy, she’d found a substitute in the battered copy of Little Women that had belonged to his late wife. Who needed a single doll when she could bring a whole family of sisters with her? Her affection for the doll might explain her fascination with shoes, however.

  “You going to be okay in those things?” Nathan asked. “Walking, I mean?”

  “Would you ask your sister that question?” She angled a purposely haughty look in his direction.

  “Not without protection.” He chuckled. “This little park is one of Lantano Valley’s secrets. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

  “You mean there’s more to this town than money, parties, and increasing investment portfolios?” Of course there was. It was one of the reasons she liked it so well, but she had a role to play.

  “I was worried that was your impression.” He glanced over at her and she swore she caught a hint of disappointment tugging at his expression. “This is a family town, middle class, upper class. We coexist pretty peacefully. Not all of us are rich snobs who think they’re better than anyone else.”

  “Not all, no.” She hiked her purse higher on her arm as they crossed the street and passed by a glass-front yoga studio filled to capacity with pretzel-ized students. “Some of you are burglars who target rich snobs who think they’re better than anyone else.”

  The smile he gave her didn’t quite reach his eyes. His knuckles whitened around his coffee cup. “Nemesis does have a certain panache for the ironic, I admit. He’s also brought a few dark deeds out into the open.”

  “A criminal with a sense of justice. I can see the appeal.” She nodded and took a long drink. She also wished she’d thought of it. Talk about a payoff. “The D.A. mentioned something about the possibility of Nemesis targeting your family. That that could explain your father’s sudden desire to confess. I certainly wouldn’t want a criminal like Nemesis breathing down my neck.”

  “And I thought you were here to investigate the theft of the crown.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as if he found the mention of Nemesis amusing. “As much as I would love to get Dad off the hook with that reasoning, Evan’s off base on that one.” Nathan switched his coffee into his other hand and guided her in front of him to avoid a determined female jogger pushing a double baby carriage. She could feel the heat of his touch through her jacket and her own fingers tightened around her cup. “I’ll tell you what I told Evan,” Nathan continued. “There is absolutely no way Nemesis is behind any of this.”

  “Because the Tremaynes are such a generous family? I mean with the foundation and the cancer treatment center your sister is overseeing,” she added quickly as she sensed an increased tension in the air. If she’d wanted to offend him to keep him at arm’s length, it looked like she was succeeding. Except she couldn’t afford to. She needed to find the right balance. “All those good deeds cancelling something else out?”

  “No family is perfect. We all have our secrets,” Nathan confirmed for her. “But I can assure you we don’t go around screwing the little guy to increase our bottom line. My mother would come back and haunt all of us if she suspected we were using our affluence to cause undue harm.”

  “You mean you only use your powers for good?” The grin forming on her lips faded when he caught her arm and stopped her.

  “That’s exactly what I mean.” He frowned then, as if unsure why he’d said what he did. But as quickly as the expression appeared, it was gone again, replaced by that knowing grin he’d been wearing when she’d first seen him at the museum yesterday. Alarm bells jangled in her head. “Tell me something, Laurel. Are you the kind of woman who rebuffs a man for taking liberties?”

  “Liberties?” Laurel blinked, trying to reconcile his words through her suddenly foggy mind. He was so close, so tempting, and she had the feeling, if she leaned a tad closer he’d take those liberties he teased about. “I haven’t
heard that phrase since English class.”

  “I always found Jane Austen to be a good go-to when it comes to beautiful women. How’d I do?”

  She lifted her hand and caught his wrist when he reached to touch her face. Oh, no. Jane Austen might be a personal weakness for her, but she wasn’t going to give in. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t play with him a little. “On a scale of one to ten? I’ll give the Jane Austen reference a four.” She trailed her thumb over his pulse, felt a kick of self-confidence when it doubled up beneath her touch. “We’ll wait and see about the liberties.”

  Chapter Four

  “You were right,” Laurel said as they wandered down the path toward a pair of black iron benches situated beneath his favorite tree. “This is lovely.”

  Nathan listened to her inhale, the sound soft and encouraging even as she withdrew her hand from his and wrapped both around what by now had to be an empty coffee cup. He couldn’t seem to figure her out. There was a sharpness about her that was almost off-putting, as if she wanted him to dislike her, and then . . .

  An eruption of oak and redwood trees welcomed them. Lancaster Park always provided the peace he desired. As much peace as was possible given the park was also replete with playgrounds that included swings, slides, and various apparatus to challenge youngsters in their physical prowess. A narrow cement path wove around picnic areas and park benches that, during the summer months, were filled to capacity with families and day campers enjoying a bit of nature without venturing far from home. Just off center was a redwood gazebo that come holiday time would be decked out in the season’s sparkling splendor. It was the one time of year Nathan wished they got snow, but Southern California wasn’t known for its white winters.