by Meryl Sawyer
Now she could see that this was his life’s work. He seemed to be trying to help others in a way that she hadn’t expected event though she’d known about some of his local philanthropic endeavors. She thought about herself. What good was she doing? How could she be critical of the Holbrooks? At least they were doing something worthwhile.
She’d been headed in a scientific direction, too, when she’d gone to MIT. Her field was mathematics with an emphasis on statistics, which could have led to medical research. But her father’s cancer had changed everything.
Up to then computer games and trivia had been a hobby, but as her father’s cancer progressed, she used it as an escape. He could rest in bed and talk trivia with her. Or she could play computer games with the sound off while she waited beside his bed for the miracle that never happened.
After her father’s death, she could have gone back to school. But along came Aiden Larsen. He saw the financial possibilities in the world of computer gamers. It was growing like wildfire as more and more children matured with computer games as part of their lives.
Now she wondered if she’d made a mistake by not returning to school. She could be doing something for mankind, like the Holbrooks, instead of fooling with trivia on a computer game site. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Perhaps Aiden could buy her out and add gambling to the site the way he wanted.
But did she want to sell a company that had been her brainchild, a company she’d fought hard to retain in the divorce settlement? She honestly didn’t know and realized she didn’t have the time to think about it right now.
Wyatt and Tobias hung back to discuss something with a technician while Garrison guided her forward. “My father and I differ on the future of medical research.”
“Really?” Madison was surprised. Since they shared facilities and were related, she’d assumed they were on the same page scientifically.
“I think the future is in the sea, not in the lab. There are a million bacteria in every milliliter of sea water and ten million viruses. Can you imagine the potential cures just waiting to be discovered? I call it Neptune’s Medicine Chest.”
“What about biopharming?”
That got him. His smile vanished, replaced by a tight frown. She knew very little beyond the fact that genetically altered crops could produce pharmaceuticals. Genetically altered corn was already producing a protein that showed extraordinary promise in treating hepatitis B.
“There are a number of possibilities on the horizon,” Garrison said, his voice pinched. “I happen to believe the answer is in the ocean. My father likes the lab but he’s willing to fund any promising research with the foundation he’s establishing.”
“That’s great,” she said, a little taken aback by the sudden chill in his tone. “I guess it’s impossible to tell exactly where the next revolutionary discovery will be made.”
“My father wanted you to see what we’re doing,” Garrison said, his tone now conciliatory, but the air was fraught with tension.
“Why? I already agreed to be tested.”
“True, but…Father believes you’re his daughter. If he’s right and you test positive, the doctors will explain how difficult the operation will be. It requires extensive surgery that’s not without risk. Recovery takes time.”
“I’ll help if I can, but I doubt—”
The bring-bring of her cell phone interrupted them. She walked away, saying, “I have to take this.”
They’d come full circle in the building and she was now just outside the changing room where she’d put on the jumpsuit and headgear. This side also had an air lock room. She waited for the whoosh to cease as she ripped open the Velcro on the suit and dug the cell phone out of her pocket. She shouldered her way into the changing room.
“It’s me,” Jade said when Madison answered. “There’s bad news.”
Madison wiggled out of the jumpsuit while Jade explained that cash withdrawals on her credit cards had been maxed. She was on credit watch at all three credit-reporting agencies. She clutched the cell phone, concentrating on drawing each breath as panic mushroomed in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Not only had someone stolen her savings, they had wrung every cent she could raise out of her credit cards. She was flat broke.
“Oh my God.” Shaking, Madison dropped her jumpsuit into the disposal bin, then began to peel off the latex gloves. “What am I going to do?”
“Maybe Aiden can help.”
“No, no! Don’t mention this to him. I’ll handle it.” She snapped the cell phone shut without saying goodbye. Tears of anger and frustration welled up in her eyes. She didn’t have anyone to turn to, but she certainly wasn’t going to Aiden with this.
She tried to zero in on her most immediate problem. She needed somewhere to live. With no money and no credit that was going to be a killer. She didn’t know how much time it would take to straighten out the credit mess.
Who could she turn to? The friends she’d made at MIT had continued on with their lives when she’d returned to Miami to be with her father. With Erin gone, she didn’t have any friends to count on here. Her mother—if she resurfaced soon—could help, but who knew when she’d call? Rob might help her but it would be embarrassing to impose on Erin’s ex-boyfriend.
Wyatt Holbrook walked into the room, pulling off his mask. “Is something wrong?”
Trouble must be written all over her face, she decided. “Nah, it’s nothing. Your lab is impressive.”
The older man studied her for a moment, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he shrugged out of the jumpsuit. “I appreciate your taking the time to come see the company I’ve built.”
“It’s more…extensive than I expected.” She couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice. She was penniless and had no one to help her. She needed to get away and think, plan her next move. “I’ve got to run. Mr. Pennington has my number. He’s going to arrange for the testing. He’ll call—”
“You’re upset. Was it something Garrison said? I know he can be—”
“No.” She put up her hand. “He’s a great guy. I’ve got to take care of a few things.”
“Will it wait an hour or two? We were going to catch an early dinner—”
“I can’t. My dog is back at the office. I need to get him and find a new place to live. I just found out that the couple who own the home where I’m staying are coming back early. It’s not easy to find a place when you have a pet.”
She hadn’t intended to tell him anything about her problems but this explanation seemed necessary somehow. Wyatt Holbrook was a very compassionate man, and she didn’t want him to worry about her. This was easier than going into her financial troubles.
Wyatt smiled and she glimpsed the man he must have been when he was young like Garrison. A real charmer. No wonder a wealthy heiress had fallen for him. “I have the perfect solution. You stay in the guesthouse at Corona del Mar.”
“I couldn’t possibly,” she cried, astounded that he’d offered.
“Why not? It’s well away from the main house and has a side yard for your dog. I assume it would only be for a short time while you find a suitable place.”
“I couldn’t,” Madison replied, a flimsy splinter of a protest. This could be a short-term solution to her problem.
“Why not?” he repeated. “You’re doing me a favor by taking the test. The least I can do is let you stay in my guesthouse for a few days.”
Panic evaporated in a dizzy rush, morphing into a fury beyond anything she’d previously experienced. When she found the person who’d done this to her…Madison almost thought she’d kill him. Then the image of her best friend came to mind. There were worse problems than identity theft. The thought should have calmed her, but it didn’t.
“All right. Just for a few days,” she reluctantly conceded. “I’m sure I can find a place to live by then.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PAUL PULLED UP to the Fisher Island home where Madison was staying. He’d been here often enough that t
he guards waved him through. Crappy security, but who was he to question the rich? Make that the ultrarich.
A mosaic of clouds tattered the horizon where the sun had already set, leaving a golden glow in its wake. The humidity had kicked up another notch and with it came the fragrant scent of honeysuckle that he hadn’t noticed when he’d been here before. Madison’s Beamer was parked squarely in front of the home, where the front door was wide open. Clothes were heaped in the backseat and the trunk lid was up, revealing boxes and loose sandals. Was she moving out?
Aspen greeted him in the foyer. The retriever spun in circles, his tail flapping from side to side. Paul gave the dog a few strokes on the head. “Madison, where are you?”
She appeared from the bedroom area with an armload of clothes. A sexy cascade of untamed curls clustered around her face. The skin along the high curve of her cheekbone was flushed from exertion. Her intriguing blue eyes were wide with surprise. Obviously, she hadn’t expected to see him. For an instant—maybe two—the world froze as they gazed at each other. He stepped forward, his eyes still on hers, and told himself to keep his mind on business. That’s why he’d come here.
“I’m moving out. The owners of this place are coming back sooner than expected. I guess I brought more stuff than I realized.”
“I’ve got an SUV. I can help.” Kicking himself, he wondered why in hell he’d volunteered. He just wanted answers to a few questions, then he could go.
She rewarded him with a smile. He realized with a jolt of shock that she was glad to see him. There was something about her smile that suggested a special bond between them, a sense of intimacy. Or was it just his imagination?
“Where are you moving?”
She hesitated and he could almost see her stiffen, but she kept walking through the foyer toward her car, Aspen at her heels. “I’m using the Holbrooks’ guesthouse for a few days. Wyatt said I could stay there and bring Aspen.”
I’ll be damned. What was Holbrook thinking? The man must be convinced Madison was his daughter and that she could help him. Given Holbrook’s medical condition, that was wishful thinking. Even a close relative might not be a perfect match. Wyatt’s immune system wasn’t normal. The chances of anyone—even his child—matching him were minuscule. “Really?”
Madison whirled around and leveled those baby blues on him. “He volunteered. I didn’t want to accept his offer, but the Russerts are returning early and I don’t have anyplace to go.” She flung the clothes onto the pile in the backseat of her Beamer.
Her anger thrummed in the air, making his thoughts whirl in his head. He kept circling back to the same conclusion. His experience on homicide, conducting interviews, told him that more was bothering Madison than the sudden need to move out.
Paul put out his hand and touched her shoulder. He resisted the urge to haul her into his arms and hold her close. “What’s wrong? Something’s happened.”
“I’ve been the victim of identity theft.” Anger punctuated each word. “I don’t have any money except the cash in my wallet. Less than a hundred dollars.”
“Son of a bitch! How did that happen?”
“I have no idea.” He detected more than a hint of desperation in her voice. “I’m usually very careful but…someone got into my savings and my credit cards’ cash lines.” She explained the situation.
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. This is happening at an alarming rate.”
“I need a place to stay short-term.” She glanced down at the retriever beside them, and he wondered if the glint in her eyes was from unshed tears. Darkness had fallen, making it impossible to be certain. “I have to keep Aspen with me, too. The guesthouse has a side yard. I’m just staying for a few days, until I can straighten out my finances and find a place that allows dogs.”
Now was a good time to ask about Aspen, but he couldn’t bring himself to add to Madison’s troubles. “Have you reported the theft to the police?”
Madison shook her head, her glossy hair swishing across nearly bare shoulders. She was wearing a skimpy blue tank top and shorts. “No. The last thing I want is to see the police again. They think—”
“It has to be reported if you expect the card companies to drop any charges you didn’t make.”
“From what I can tell, there were no charges, just cash withdrawals. They withdrew the limit from all three of my credit cards.”
“Uh-oh. That’s a pisser. I thought you could only get so much from an ATM.”
“I can’t reach anyone who can help me until tomorrow. I’m not exactly sure how they withdrew so much money from my accounts.”
A thought hit him. “I’ll bet my father has someone who can work on this.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll—”
“I don’t have any money to hire him. Don’t—”
“You can pay him when you have the money.”
She started to protest but he quieted her with a one-armed hug. His father picked up his cell on the second ring. Didn’t Mike have a life? Paul’s cell had been off since he drove onto the ferry to Fisher Island. Paul explained the situation and relayed some vital personal information from Madison so his father could access her records.
In typical fashion, his old man didn’t ask any questions about Madison. He knew exactly who she was and how important she was to Wyatt Holbrook. Apparently, that was enough for him. S’okay. Paul didn’t want to explain his relationship with Madison to his father. Hell, he couldn’t even explain it to himself.
He snapped his cell shut, saying, “You have to file a police report. It’s not a crime until you report it. It’s possible a gang is getting info off the Internet or through a credit card company. The police will know if there have been similar cases.”
She heaved a sigh. “All right. It can wait until tomorrow. My cards are maxed and my savings cleaned out. They’re not getting anything more tonight.”
“Right. Let’s get you settled at the Holbrooks’. After a good night’s sleep, you’ll feel more like facing the police.”
Madison gave him an appraising look to let him know she’d never feel like seeing the police. She’s hiding something. He’d suspected as much from the first morning he’d met her, but now he was fairly certain he knew what it was.
“Let’s get the rest of your stuff,” he said as he guided her back into the house.
Even though Madison had moved in for just three weeks—which turned out to be two—it took several more trips to lug out all her stuff. When you got right down to it, men would never be able to figure out why women needed so much junk.
“Could you bring Aspen?” she asked when they shoved the last load into his SUV. “There’s no room in my car.”
“Sure,” he replied, although the retriever would have to sit on some of her things. He snapped his fingers in front of Aspen’s nose and the dog lumbered up into the passenger seat of his car.
“I’ll meet you there. Go through the gate, then veer left and follow the road around to the side of the main house. Wyatt told me there are two parking spaces in back of the guesthouse and a stone path that leads from there to the guesthouse.”
Paul nodded and climbed into the SUV. He petted Aspen as he waited for Madison to pull out. The retriever gazed up at him with amber eyes that said Paul must have hung the moon. An aching sadness he’d never experienced before swept over him.
This poor dog must have suffered horribly, and yet he still trusted, still loved. People weren’t as forgiving. He’d read Madison’s file. He knew she’d loved Aiden and given up her education and pitched in her savings to start their business, only to have her husband leave her for another woman.
It wasn’t fair. Suddenly, his father’s old saying brought him up short. Who said life would be fair?
THE GUESTHOUSE TURNED out to be a three-bedroom home twice as big as the house Paul’s father had purchased several years ago. The lights were on and the ceiling fans were going. Holbrook must have had
his staff get the place ready for Madison.
The house was decorated in what Madison called “Tommy Bahama” style, which meant plantation shutters and furniture made out of cane. The walls were a cool green that was almost white and all the fabric had some damn fernlike design. A haven in the tropics. Oddly enough, it seemed to suit Madison perfectly.
They lugged in her stuff and deposited it in what Madison dubbed the “spare” bedroom so she could sort through it later. Aspen tagged along, after taking a detour to relieve himself in the guesthouse yard’s lush banks of ferns adjacent to a small swimming pool with a spa.
“Thirsty?” Madison asked Aspen.
“You bet,” Paul replied. “I’m guessing this joint has glasses and stuff. What self-respecting guesthouse wouldn’t?”
Madison led Paul, with Aspen at his heels, into a good-size kitchen with gloss-black granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. Not only did the kitchen have dinnerware and pots and pans, but the refrigerator and pantry were fully stocked.
“Not bad.” He took the glass she’d found for him and shoved it under the ice dispenser on the refrigerator door. “It’ll be hard to beat this.”
Madison filled a ceramic soup bowl with water for Aspen. The dog must have a bowl somewhere, but Paul didn’t blame Madison for not hunting for it. Poor kid had been through a lot today.
“Let’s take a break for a few minutes,” he suggested.
She gave him a weary nod and he followed her into the living room. He opened the French doors to the small terrace overlooking the pool and spa. The heady scent of exotic flowers he couldn’t name saturated the humid night air. Artsy-fartsy lighting created interesting patterns of shadow and light through the clusters of ferns around the royal palms lining the yard. Paul figured some damn decorator hadn’t been satisfied doing just the interior.
The slow, undulating sound of the surf on the shore reminded Paul that the ocean was just over the wall surrounding Corona del Mar. During the day, the guesthouse probably had a view of the water. He turned and went back inside.