Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  Hands trembling, she poured herself a glass of water then went to stand on her deck. Was she going crazy? She scanned the parking lot and play area and saw nothing but the mother and the small children. A black Land Cruiser left the parking lot, and old man Perkins meandered out for his morning paper.

  Good grief. Had she been frightened over a paperboy?

  She chastised herself a thousand times while she showered and dressed for work. “Now where’s that red blazer?” she mumbled searching through her closet.

  A few minutes later she gave up the search and pulled on a black jacket, then left for work. Maybe today Detective Dawson would show up with some answers. Once she sorted out her past, her life could get back to normal.

  NATHAN FELT LIKE A THORN in a rose garden as he stepped inside the pale pink walls of the florist’s shop and noticed the delicate arrangements of fragile flowers in glass showcases. A tinkling bell chimed above and a small gray-haired woman wearing an apron over stretch knit pants greeted him with a kind smile.

  “What can I do for you, young man?” She wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes twinkling. “Looking for something for that special someone?”

  Nathan stilled, realizing her assumption. He hadn’t been called young in a long time; all the more reason he should avoid getting personally involved with Veronica. “No, ma’am. I need some information.”

  “Okay. Are you looking for something indoor or outdoor?”

  Nathan shook his head and produced his badge. The woman swallowed a small gasp as her eyes widened. “I’d like to find out who sent some flowers to a woman last night.”

  “Why? Was something wrong with the arrangement?”

  Nathan’s jaw tightened as he fought frustration. “I need to know who sent them, ma’am. It’s police business.”

  The woman squared her shoulders and ambled toward a small round table where she produced a ledger.

  “Tell me who they were sent to.”

  “Veronica Miller. Apartment J-5, Bainbridge Apartments. They arrived last night about ten.”

  The woman propped a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles on her nose, then scanned the ledger. “Daisies?”

  “Yes.”

  The woman peered over her glasses. “I thought that was odd.”

  Nathan cleared his throat. Now they were getting somewhere. “What was odd, ma’am?”

  “Well, the daisies were already wilting. I was about to throw them out but the customer insisted on them. Paid for them in cash.”

  “And who was the customer?” Nathan asked impatiently.

  The woman tapped her forehead in thought. “She was wearing a red jacket with a pin on it.” She tapped the ledger. “I remember the pin sparkled in the sunlight—some kind of bird. A swan, peacock, pelican maybe.” Then she described the customer and Nathan strode from the store.

  He had to see Veronica.

  VERONICA RUSHED into her front office, poured herself some tea and waved to Louise who was busy on the phone verifying appointments for later in the week. Sailing past the coatrack, she noticed her red jacket.

  “Well, I’ll be darned,” she muttered as she grabbed it and carried it to her office. She didn’t remember leaving it at work. In fact, she usually kept her jacket over her chair so she wouldn’t forget it.

  Deciding it wasn’t important, she opened her briefcase and spread the files she’d meant to study the night before on her desk. Pouring over endless paperwork would no doubt take her mind off the handsome detective and his kiss—and the haunting memories of her early-morning nightmare. She wasn’t sure which disturbed her more.

  An hour later she’d compiled the client list for Nathan and set it aside. She was engrossed in one of her client’s financial plans when the phone rang.

  “Veronica Miller speaking.”

  “Veronica, it’s Eli. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  Veronica’s fingers tightened around the handset as the memories of the crushed flowers blurred her vision. “Of course I’m all right, why wouldn’t I be?”

  Eli hesitated. “Well, you seemed tense at the party. You’re my goddaughter, and now that you’re in town, I intend to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  Veronica fiddled with her ballpoint pen and smiled. “I’m fine, Eli. You’re really sweet to ask.” She’d fretted about the flowers all night and decided there had to be a logical explanation. Perhaps Eli had ordered them and the florist had made a mistake. “Eli, you didn’t send me flowers last night, did you?”

  “Why, no.” He chuckled. “But I wish I’d thought of it. You must have a secret admirer.”

  “Some admirer,” Veronica mumbled as the line broke up with static.

  “What? You’ll have to speak up, dear. I’m on the cell phone.”

  “Nothing.” Veronica thought quickly. “It was probably a business acquaintance, and they forgot to put in the card.”

  “Probably so. Listen, I’d like to have lunch later in the week. How about Friday?”

  “Sure.” Veronica penciled in Friday and said goodbye. She turned back to her file but a familiar scent wafted into the room and she felt someone’s presence. When she glanced up, Nathan was standing in the doorway. He’d been devastatingly handsome in the tux, but even in his faded jeans and the blue oxford shirt, he looked sexy as sin.

  “Hi.” She fumbled with her pen and dropped it on the floor. “I guess you came by for that client list.”

  Nathan nodded and moved in the doorway. Veronica couldn’t read his expression, but the smile she’d seen last night when he’d asked her to trust him was absent from his eyes.

  “Do you have it ready?”

  Veronica handed the list to him. “There are several sheets. I made notations by the ones who are no longer with me. The red asterisks indicate clients who weren’t happy with their settlements, but I still don’t think any of them are dangerous.”

  Nathan scanned the paper. “Thanks. I’ll look into it.”

  An uneasy feeling swept over Veronica at Nathan’s cold, formal tone. Where was the man who’d been so sensitive last night? The man who’d kissed her and awakened needs she hadn’t even realized she’d had.

  Nathan paused by the chair where she’d draped her red jacket. An odd expression drew his eyebrows together, and when he looked at her, then back at the coat, a chill slithered up her spine.

  “Whose jacket is this?” he asked.

  Veronica swallowed, reminding herself she had no reason to be afraid of Nathan Dawson. He was here to help her. “It’s mine.”

  Nathan’s unreadable expression turned into a puzzled frown. His long fingers stroked the colorful pelican pin on the lapel. “That pin belonged to my grandmother,” she said. “There are only a few like it in the world.”

  Nathan’s jaw hardened and Veronica tensed, her shoulders rigid. “What’s wrong, Detective?”

  When he spoke, his voice sounded harsh. “I went by the florist on the way over here. He said the person who ordered those flowers was a woman.”

  Veronica’s pulse jumped. “You know who sent them?”

  “The florist said the woman had long dark hair, dark eyes.” He touched the pin again and stared into her eyes. Veronica could have sworn he was looking straight into her soul.

  “In fact, she said the woman was wearing a red jacket with a pin on the lapel…sounded just like this one.”

  Chapter Five

  Nathan steeled himself against Veronica’s reaction. Her soft gasp and wide-eyed stare was almost convincing, and when she sagged into the chair with a dazed expression on her face, he fought the urge to comfort her. Instead he cursed himself for allowing her to get to him the day before, and he let his anger churn. He wouldn’t be a sucker for anyone—not even a dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty like Veronica.

  Had she ordered the flowers for herself, then pretended to be upset? Could Ford be right? Could she be mentally disturbed? With her history, it was entirely possible.

  His former partner had l
et his personal feelings interfere with an investigation and it had cost him his life. And Nathan had almost died, too. He couldn’t afford to take any chances.

  “You think I sent them to myself?” Veronica finally asked in a dull voice.

  He chewed his bottom lip and said nothing. The disappointment in her eyes almost softened his resolve, but he knew now he had to solve this case. Even if it meant discovering she was a pathological liar.

  “That’s what you think, isn’t it?” The color returned to her face in a splash of angry crimson. “You’re just like everybody else. Once you heard about my past, you decided I was crazy.”

  “I don’t know what I think,” Nathan finally said. “But I want to find out the truth.”

  “I’m sure hundreds of women own red jackets. As far as the pin, I don’t know.” Veronica’s dark eyes blazed with fury. “Yesterday you asked me to trust you, and today you accuse me of sending myself a box of dead flowers. You don’t know the truth when it’s looking straight at you.”

  Nathan closed the distance between them and glared at her. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just doing my job.”

  Veronica’s fingers curled around the mahogany desktop. “Fine. That’s what I want you to do—your job. Find out who’s doing these things to me.”

  Nathan leaned forward and met her angry gaze. Her sultry peach scent enveloped him. For a moment he considered reaching out and stroking her, trying to calm her. But that would only draw him in more, and if she was lying, he’d become a bigger pawn in her psychotic game. Instead, he clutched the papers she’d given him and forced his voice to be level. “I intend to find out who’s behind all these things, Ms. Miller.”

  “Good, because I want them to stop. I have work to do.”

  “So do I.”

  “Good.”

  “Fine.”

  Several tense seconds stretched between them. Finally, Nathan lowered his voice. “I checked into your boyfriend.”

  “My ex-boyfriend.”

  Nathan nodded. “Did you know he had a record?”

  Veronica’s head snapped up. “What for?”

  “A misdemeanor for breaking and entering.”

  He watched Veronica strain to control her reaction. “Anything else?”

  “He was questioned about his first wife’s death.”

  Shock rode across Veronica’s face.

  “You didn’t know about that, did you?” When Veronica didn’t answer, he continued. “Did you know about the charges for embezzlement?”

  “Those were dropped,” Veronica said tightly. “Ron was cleared.”

  Nathan studied her. Was she defending the man because she still cared for him? Or could she be hiding something else?

  “Besides, that happened in Florida. I don’t see how that can possibly be related to what’s going on here.”

  Nathan fisted his hands by his sides. “Did you and Ron ever discuss business?”

  Veronica’s tone was sarcastic. “Not confidential matters if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “Bear with me for a minute, Veronica.” Nathan reined in his temper. “If Ron was involved in something illegal, and you inadvertently got privy to inside information, Cox would have a motive to come after you.”

  Veronica mulled over the possibility, her tone softening. “I suppose it’s possible, but I don’t remember anything. The only thing Ron told me about were a few investments.”

  “Land investments?”

  “Yes, but I don’t remember the details.” Veronica shuffled the papers on her desk and shrugged. “Just bits and pieces here and there. Nothing you couldn’t find out on your own if you were interested.”

  “Give it some thought. A name, place, anything could be important.”

  Veronica nodded. “Anything else?”

  Nathan gritted his teeth. Yes, he wanted to kiss her rosy lips and taste the fire in her body. But that was impossible. He didn’t even know if she was telling him the truth.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

  He arched an eyebrow, wondering how she’d come so close to reading his thoughts.

  She lowered her gaze and shuffled through her papers again, stacking them in neat, organized piles. “I have work to do.”

  His chest squeezed tightly at the hurt in her voice. The image of her as a child, her parents murdered in front of her eyes flashed before him. The loneliness and desolation in her expression as she’d stood over her parents’ graves holding those daisies. Damn. He wished he’d never seen that picture.

  “Don’t you have to go back to work, too?” Veronica asked in a clipped tone.

  He finally found his voice. “I am working. You said you’d gotten some strange messages? When did they start?”

  “Right after I moved here.”

  “I’d like to put a tracer on your home and office phones.”

  “Fine.”

  “Okay, good.”

  Veronica angled her pen above her paperwork. “Then that’s that.”

  “Look, Veronica—” A knock at the door halted his words. A good thing, he thought, before he made a fool out of himself.

  Louise poked her head in. “A gentleman’s here to see you, Ms. Miller.” She grinned and escorted Gerald Jones in. “It’s our next senator—maybe our future president.”

  Nathan clenched his jaw at the smile the politician gave Veronica. And when she returned it with a warm one of her own, he strode out the door without saying goodbye.

  VERONICA TRIED to shove thoughts of the irritating detective from her mind while Gerald surveyed her office. It shouldn’t matter if Nathan believed her, as long as he found the person harassing her, but it did matter. For some odd reason she cared what he thought more than she’d cared about anyone in a long time. Disgusted with herself, she tried to resurrect the walls she’d built around herself. Hadn’t she learned from experience that caring could destroy a person?

  “This is pretty nice, Ms. Miller. Simple, but nice.” Gerald ran his finger along the wooden statue of a seagull she’d purchased at an art show in Florida.

  “Thanks,” Veronica said, unsure whether his comment was really a compliment or just his way of flirting.

  Gerald leaned casually against the cherry bookcase beside the door, his hands in his designer trouser pockets, his smile a showcase of polished manners. “I was in the area and dropped by, hoping to take you to lunch.”

  Veronica folded her hands across the top of her desk. “I really have a lot of work to do.”

  Gerald grinned and sauntered toward her, then offered his hand. “Well, you have to eat. It might as well be with me.”

  Veronica smiled. “Shouldn’t you be someplace shaking hands or kissing babies?”

  Gerald’s rich laughter filled the room. “I don’t think it’ll hurt my image to be seen with a beautiful woman, especially one of Atlanta’s finest attorneys.”

  “I see.” Veronica smiled in spite of his remark. “So you wanted to talk business?”

  “No, I want to relax and enjoy myself, get to know you better.” Gerald led her toward the door. “After all, you’re Dad’s goddaughter. That must make us…godsiblings or something.”

  Veronica had always wondered how Eli’s children would feel about her. He’d kept her abreast of their education and careers, but she’d worried they wouldn’t welcome her into their family. Maybe she was wrong.

  The thought of refusing Gerald’s invitation struck Veronica as a good idea, but she’d promised herself she would associate with the people from her past. Perhaps Gerald had heard Eli talk about her parents, and she could learn something that would trigger a memory.

  “I’ll be back in about an hour,” Veronica told Louise as Gerald walked her to the door.

  “Take your time,” Louise said, waving her off.

  “Very impressive,” she said as she climbed into Gerald’s sleek black Cadillac and sank into the plush leather seats.

  �
��Father bought it for me as a kick-off campaign present. Thought it would make a better image than my Porsche.”

  Veronica laughed. “He’s got a point. Impressions are important.”

  “Yes, they are,” Gerald said, some of the zip leaving his smile. “As Dad always reminds me.” He quickly maneuvered the car onto the road, and a few minutes later they were settled at a table in a small Italian restaurant.

  “This is great,” Veronica said, admiring the lacy curtains and antique paintings. Soft piano music provided a perfect accent to the dimly lit atmosphere. “I’ve heard about this place, but I’ve never been here.”

  “They have great pasta, and the bread is just like in Italy.” Gerald raised his wineglass. “A toast to us getting to know each other better.”

  Veronica raised her water glass and clinked it with his. “Why don’t you start by telling me about yourself?”

  Gerald grinned. “My life’s an open book—I’m sure you’ve read the papers.”

  Veronica nodded. “Yes, but tell me about growing up. Are you and Eli close?”

  Gerald’s smile faded slightly. “As close as a father and son can be. There’s always that parent-child thing.”

  Veronica studied his face, wishing she understood the parent-child thing.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Gerald looked contrite. “That was insensitive of me. Father said you don’t remember your childhood.”

  A wave of apprehension rippled through Veronica. “That’s right. At least not the first seven years.”

  Gerald pushed his stylish glasses up on his nose. “Is that why you came back here? Hoping to remember?”

  Veronica picked at her food, hedging. “That’s part of it. I hoped moving here would bring back memories, but so far it hasn’t.”

  “Well, perhaps it still might. Dad said you’re using your father’s old office space.”

  “That’s right. The real estate agent said the house has changed a lot, though. It was an insurance office for a while.”

  Gerald smiled at her over his glass. “And after that, an architectural designer rented the space.”

  “You know, I’ve been thinking,” Veronica said. “I know my father’s files were lost in a fire, but I wondered if he might have made backup copies. Could the police have confiscated them before they were burned? It would be interesting to look over some of his old work.”