Family Secrets: Books 5-8

by Virginia Kantra

  Leigh.

  Epilogue

  E ric stood with his feet shoulder width apart, looking outrageously appealing in a pair of fitted dirt-stained baseball pants. He pulled the bat over his right shoulder and waited.

  Behind and to the left of second base, the shortstop crouched in anticipation. He seemed to be saying, Bring it on.

  The pitch came, hard and remarkably fast considering it had been thrown by a ten-year-old, zooming over the heart of the plate.

  Eric swung the bat in a smooth arc, wood connecting with a resounding thud to send the ball zinging to the left of the pitcher with incredible force.

  The shortstop executed a perfectly timed leap and snagged the ball several feet above his head, robbing his father of a sure base hit. Steely eyed, he fired the ball toward first, where he would have thrown Eric out, had he not already secured that through his catch.

  All right! Leigh said, jumping to her feet. She clapped for her son and laughed as Eric sent Connor a wicked grin.

  The October air was crisp, welcome hints of fall having chased away the stifling, muggy heat of summer. The sun shone brightly from a cloudless azure sky, but a cool breeze kept the temperature in check.

  Leigh sat on the bleachers, among other families watching the annual father-son, end-of-season baseball game.

  Our son is cruel, Eric said as he jogged over to join her. He had a cap down low on his head and a gleam in his eyes.

  Our son is talented, she corrected. Hes got that killer instinct.

  Eric sat beside her and picked up her hand, where he fingered the shiny new ring on her left finger. Cruel, he said again. Whats he thinking anyway? Christmas? Doesnt he realize thats two months away?

  Leigh laughed. Hes just being sentimental.

  Eric scowled, angling in for a slow, lingering kiss. Sentimental that.

  Pleasure drifted through her, followed by a flare of desire. After Eric had proposed to her, theyd agreed to let Connor pick the date. Hed been thrilled, saying this was the best gift hed ever received. So for a date, hed picked Christmas Eve.

  I want to spend the night with you, Eric murmured as he skimmed his mouth along her jawline to nibble at her ear. All night. Every night. I want to go to sleep with you, wake up with you.

  As opposed to the stolen moments theyd been finding during lunch hours.

  Heat licked through Leigh. I want that, too, she whispered. God, how she wanted. Burned. Shed loved Eric for so long, had thought their chance for a happy ending had come and gone long ago. Had thought he could never forgive her for the choices shed made. The pain would always be there, she knew, but she also knew theyd both chosen the future over the past.

  Not much longer, she said, thrilling to the way his mouth moved against hers, making promises she knew hed keep just as soon as he could.

  Eric pulled back. Even one day is too long.

  And the nightsSeths up, she said, changing the subject before they got themselves entirely too worked up. It was, after all, their sons baseball game, and they could hardly sneak off under the bleachers for a few minutes alone.

  Eric grinned, obviously seeing right through her ploy. But Seth was up at the plate, wielding a bat with the same ease as both Eric and Connor. Hed recovered from his bullet wound, insisting he had too much to live for to let some deranged FBI agent steal the future.

  Just as the federal prosecutor had promised, all charges had been dropped, Erics name completely cleared. The press had followed him a few more days, wanting the blockbuster story of a man wrongly accused, but once they realized the brief statement hed released was all he was saying, theyd backed off. Even Cantrell had gone silent. No one had seen or heard a word from the slimy reporter since the day after Venturi went down.

  Theyd heard from Jake twice, and while hed been vague, Leigh and Eric had gotten the distinct feeling their friend was optimistic about getting to the bottom of the World Bank heist. Hed been reinstated immediately following Venturis suicide. They sensed something else going on, but Jake assured them all was well, that hed be there for the wedding come hell or high water.

  All the Blues Brothers had promised to be there.

  The pitcher fired the ball toward the plate, missing the edges and giving Seth a perfect ball to drill. He swung hard and sent the ball flying straight up the middle. Connor made a valiant attempt to snag it, but the ball was too high and sailed over him, landing at the feet of the centerfielder.

  Seth motored around first and into second, reaching the base well ahead of the throw.

  Leigh watched Connor amble over and nudge his grandfather, watched Seth nudge his grandson right back.

  Trash-talking knew no age boundaries.

  It amazed her how readily Connor had adapted to the new men in his life, but then, hed always longed for a father and more grandparents. Recently, hed begun talking of a brother or a sister.

  Eric slid an arm around her shoulders and urged her toward him. Would you look at them?

  She glanced from the warm smile on his face to the field, where his father tugged on his sons cap. I am.

  Eric let out a sound of pure amazement. Who would have thought being accused of the World Bank heist would be the second best thing thats ever happened to me?

  Shed always heard the night was darkest just before dawn, but the phrase took on new meaning now. Had Eric never been accused, their paths might not have crossed again. Especially not with such urgency. Connors existence would have remained a secret, Seths identity a mystery.

  And the best? she asked, angling her face toward his.

  His smile was slow, heated. You have to ask?

  Im an attorney, she reminded. Interrogating is what I do best.

  He laughed. Well, in that case, counselor, far be it from me to keep you waiting. The answer, he said as his mouth came down on hers, is you.

  One moment, Leigh thought, awed and dazzled, knowing December could never come soon enough. One decision.

  A gift to last a lifetime.

  The Billionaire Drifter

  By Beverly Bird

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  One

 
H onor Elise Evans was on a tear, and she rather liked it.

  The beat of the music in the Woodley Park nightclub throbbed as deep as her bones as she grinned at the man standing next to her. When the tempo of the music changed, turning sinuous, she decided to dance. She snaked her arms over her head and brought them down again to slick her palms over her ribs. When she reached her hips, she took handfuls of her tiny Caribbean-blue dress. The guy caught her at the waist and pulled her close.

  His mouth found the soft spot beneath her left ear. Something like a shiver tickled in the pit of her stomach. Shivers were good, she thought. Then his mouth slid to her ear.

  I want you!

  Preferably those words would have been whispered, she thought, but he had to shout to be heard over the music. Her shivery feeling started to vaporize. She had to get him out of here. Then things could progress as planned.

  She backed off, easing away from him, and crooked her finger at him until he began to follow her to the door of the club. He caught her there and dragged her close again, grinding himself against her. Out of patience now, she grabbed him by the neck of his T-shirt and hauled him toward the door.

  It was September in Washington, D.C., and the heat was liquid. Summer hadnt yet given up its ghost. The humidity reached out for them as soon as they left the air-conditioning. She could feel her curls zinging even tighter. No matter. Theyd be a mess anyway when she was done with this guy. What do I call you, baby? Whats your name? he asked, rooting for her mouth again as they stood on the sidewalk.

  Do you want me, or do you want to talk? She pressed herself against him and hooked one foot around his calf to slide it up and down. So far, so good.

  I get your point. Just dont blame me if I call you Linda in the heat of the moment.

  She felt the quick little bam-bam of that nasty fist in her chest. She did not want him murmuring words of passion to Linda. Call me Honey. Its what those who know me best dont call me.

  She pulled away from him and did a quick pirouette on the pavement, enough to have her very scant hem doing one of those Marilyn Monroe things and billowing up a little. Honey loved old movies. On rare occasions she actually stayed in at night, nuked herself a bowl of popcorn and watched them on the digital wonder her parents called cable.

  Her parents werent in Georgetown tonightthey rarely wereand she had the townhouse to herself. She planned to share it.

  She turned away to her car, a candy-apple-red Mercedes SL500 parked at the curb. She went to the drivers side and turned around to slide her bottom onto the door edge. Shed left the convertible top down with just this moment in mind. She swiveled nicely, bringing her legs inside the car. He was ogling her now. Well? Are you coming, or arent you?

  Jeez. Thats yours? Youre rich.

  Got a problem with that?

  Uhno.

  Good. Then lets blow this pop stand.

  Lets what?

  Damn it. Never mind. Just a line I picked up from an old movie. Rebel Without a Cause, she thought. Or maybe American Graffiti. Honey couldnt remember exactly which at the moment. She slithered and dropped behind the wheel. The keys were in the car. The valet came running. She slid a hand under her skirt to the top of her thigh-highs and extricated a roll of cash. She peeled off a twenty and gave it to the guy.

  See you soon, Honey, the valet said.

  Count on it. When she looked over at the passenger seat, her catch was there. She peeled away from the curb.

  Where are you taking me? he asked.

  Heaven. Please, please, please, she thought, let it be heaven this time.

  Conversation was kept to a minimum because of the backlash of air that batted at them with the top down. On one hand, that was too bad, Honey thought. She would have liked a few sweet nothings exchanged between them. On the other hand, maybe it was good. His conversational abilities seemed somewhat limited.

  Honey screeched to a halt in the driveway of her townhouse and levered herself out of the little car in pretty much the same fashion that shed entered it. Using doors was pedestrian. She had a very big stake in being anything but.

  He was slower getting out. He looked a little dazed.

  You drive like a He trailed off. Probably searching for a word over four letters, she thought.

  Dont start that, damn it!

  Honey headed up the walkway. She heard him behind her. She unlocked the front door, stepped inside and trotted her fingers over the alarm keypad to turn it off. When she turned to face him again, she hooked a finger in his collar and drew him closer.

  Now, where were we? she asked.

  He opened his mouth to answer and Honey swallowed his words. She did a little hop into his arms, wrapped her legs around his waist and plastered her mouth to his.

  All systems go, she thought. And then it happened. Again.

  At first it was just the bam-bam-bam of that fist in her chest. She ignored it, so it hammered harder. She made a snarling sound of protest in her throat, warning it off. That seemed to turn the guy on. He cupped her bottom, holding her to him, and that was when she stopped being able to breathe.

  No, no, no!

  He was sucking the air right out of her lungs, she thought. She tried turning her face to the side, letting him feast on her neck.

  Maybe it was his aftershave. She tilted her head back, letting his mouth roam her skin, trying to pull in air that wasnt contaminated with whatever it was that he was wearing.

  And then it got worse. This time, it got worse. This wasnt just a fist in her chest. It turned into a jackhammer and it was pointed with something sharp. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat. Pain actually splintered through her lungs with every breath she tried to draw in.

  And oh, dear God, she was sweating. How mortifying.

  She jumped down, letting him go, backing off. Wait, wait.

  You got me too hot.

  Youve She gasped. Youve got me too hot.

  You, too? Good.

  No, I meant What the hell was she doing? Correcting his grammar?

  Honey needed to breathe. If she didnt breathe, she was going to

  She was going to pass out.

  The foyer started spinning around her, her mothers collection of Hoger and de Hooch artwork on the walls, and over there the picture of Marcus all dolled up in his military garb. Two frames down from that there was Drewthen her parentsand, lest she miss it, the President of the United States shaking her Uncle Russs hand.

  The edges of her vision started going to shades of pearly white and gray.

  Wait, she croaked again. She kept a hand planted on his chest to keep him at a safe distance. I need togoto go outside.

  Honey fled. She reached the gardens in the backyard and leaned against the sundial there, its stone damp with the night. She breathed. In, out. In, out. Okay, she thought, Im fine now. Then she felt his hands sneak up on her fro
m behind, wrapping around her waist to pull her back against him again.

  And her heart started pounding harder, and perspiration gathered in every pore she had ever been born with. The gray at the edges of her vision went positively black.

  Im really sorry about this, Honey murmured. Then she felt her knees fold.

  Obviously, you find the sexual process to be abhorrent in some fashion.

  The shrinks words hit Honey like a cattle prod in the backside. She pushed away from the wall where she had been leaning and looking out his office window. Thats what I get for three hundred bucks an hour? That I dont like sex?

  It triggers a phobia within you. What youre experiencing are panic attacks.

  No offense, Sherlock, but I figured that much out on my own.

  She was so agitated she started pacing the office and very nearly snatched her sunglasses off her face. She already had her fingers wrapped around them before she remembered herself.

  Her wild blond curls were smashed down beneath a baseball cap that kept wanting to fall off because it had never been designed to corral eighteen inches of hair. Shed swiped a pair of her mothers finest linen trousers out of her closetno little blue dresses today. Shed given the shrink a phony name and she was forking over good money out of her own pocket for this visit rather than submit it to her insurance company. If anyone caught wind of the fact that Honey Evans had gone down in her garden last night like shed been shot from a cannonand all because a man had touched hershedWell, dying on the spot didnt seem to be an overly dramatic way of putting it.