Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11)

by Deborah Brown

  “I thought tonight was about family,” I said when I reached the bottom of the stairs. I’d envisioned a barbeque and a swim, sneaking off to bed early with Creole. “Who exactly is coming? And who the heck is Richards?”

  Mother and Spoon had already bailed; if they even knew what the plan was, she hadn’t mentioned it when she called to tell me that she and Spoon had plans to sneak out on the boat to haul in a fish or two.

  Creole glared at Didier. I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get the memo; we were both dressed in bathing suits.

  “I didn’t think to remind you; thought you’d have it noted on your calendar,” Fab said from a nearby chair, legs draped over the back, patented smirk firmly in place. “This is a business dinner for the partnership. There’s a new project on the table, which is where Benton Richards comes in.”

  Apparently, Fab was still annoyed at me for locking her up with Didier. It didn’t matter that they were back together; she didn’t like being bested by anyone.

  “We have reservations at The Grill, the trendy new place on the water in Marathon.” Didier looked apologetic. “Brad ordered a limo for all of us. Minus Richards—he called and will be meeting us at the restaurant.”

  “Dress-up.” Fab flashed a big smile at Creole, knowing he preferred casual.

  “In the Keys?” My eyebrow arched. “I’ll call and double check.”

  Creole crossed to me and hauled me against his chest, tucking me to his side.

  “We’re meeting Richards and his date at 6:30,” Didier said.

  “See you guys later.” Creole turned me back towards the stairs, his hand on my lower back.

  * * *

  Coming out of the bathroom while loosely tying my bathrobe, I spotted a dress hanging from a hook over the closet door. So much for pool attire. I wondered how many more surprises there would be tonight.

  “You picking out my clothes now?” My attention turned to Creole, standing there in a pair of Calvin Klein’s. I whistled, wondering how much time we had.

  He snorted. “I grabbed up my towel to cover myself when your friend, knowing we were in here, picked the lock and marched right in.”

  I tried to bite back a laugh, but it came out anyway.

  “Laugh now. Wait until it happens to you. You’ll be demanding a beatdown.”

  “Won’t happen again. I’ll have a talk with her,” I assured him. “How did you get rid of her?”

  “I pushed her out of the room, right into the arms of Didier. When he asked what the hell, I handed him her lockpick and shut the door in their faces. Then I heard an angry male voice moving down the hall and another door slamming.” His lips quirked up.

  “I vote that we drive ourselves.” I untied my robe and let it fall to the floor.

  “Oh, babe.” Two steps later, he had me in his arms. With one hand on my hip and the other curled around the nape of my neck, he lowered his mouth to mine. “Later…” he murmured, kissing me again. “We have to get dressed.” He pushed back and slapped my ass.

  “You’re no fun.” I pouted.

  “You’ll take those words back.” He pointed to the dress. “We have ten minutes.”

  “Ten?”

  I took the dress bag down, shoving it to the back of the closet, and instead choosing one that Mother had bought me for my birthday. A curve-hugging, sleeveless black dress, the bottom half leather, the top suede. It might surprise some people to know that I could pick out my own clothes. Although, if I’d had something totally hideous, I’d have been tempted to wear it. Fab must have learned her lesson about making my shoe choices, since none were lying on the bed. I pulled out a new pair of low-heeled black suede slip-ons that I bought to match the dress.

  “Did I tell you how incredibly hot you look tonight?” Creole growled possessively.

  I twirled around, blushing furiously. “Your favorite?”

  “My fave is the strapless bra and that bit of lace you call underwear.”

  I didn’t think it possible for my cheeks to burn even more. “You’re pretty smoking yourself.” I ran my hand across his chest.

  He wore a white button-down shirt that stretched across his chest, the top two buttons undone and the knot in his tie lopsided. His black suit pants hugged his hips.

  His gravelly laugh sent a chill down my spine. His deep-blue eyes bored into mine, knowing I was thinking naughty thoughts of which he was the star.

  “Ready, love?” He held out his arm.

  We came down the stairs together. I hip-bumped him as we went. He laughed at my attempt to mess up his usually windswept hair, which he’d succeeded in combing into something manageable.

  “No drinks?” he joked with Didier, who looked like he’d walked out of an Armani ad in his black suit.

  “There’s a well-stocked bar in the limo.”

  Voices from the hallway announced Brad’s arrival. He escorted a woman I’d never seen before into the living room. The man posing as my brother had the air of a man to be reckoned with. He’d replaced the easygoing version of himself with a sterner one. His jacket hung from his frame as though it was made for him, and he and his date could model for a magazine cover.

  Another reminder that I need to check in on my brother more often.

  “Pamela Stone, this is my sister, Madison, and her boyfriend, Creole.” Brad followed that up by introducing Didier, and then Fab, who’d just came down the stairs behind us in a sexy black dress that molded to her frame.

  Pamela, a six-foot brunette goddess, had surely been poured into the curve-hugging red dress. Her breasts about ready to pop out of the low neckline, she appeared bored. She extended her fingertips. “If we get to be friends, you can call me Pammy.” Her eyes swept over me in a dismissive fashion, then lingered on Creole until I thought about putting my fist in her nose.

  I knew the slight choking noise next to me came from Creole trying to disguise a laugh.

  Jazz and Snow, who’d been watching from the daybed as the room filled up with people, jumped down and wandered over to Brad for their obligatory ear scratch. When he bent down, Pamela wrapped her hand around his arm and jerked him back. “You don’t want to get hair all over you. Dirty fat things.”

  I hissed, and Creole tightened his hold on me. “We don’t want to be late,” he said with insincere cheerfulness. “We’ll toast to a good business deal in the car.” He steered me away from them. “If we’re lucky, one of the cats will heave up a hairball on her stilettos,” he whispered.

  “Pammy does not make a good first impression.” I glared at her back. “She checked out my house like she’d stepped into a third-rate motel.”

  Creole and I were the last to leave, locking up and following everyone to the limo. The last to climb in, we sat on the far end of the bench.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Grill was a small, intimate restaurant overlooking the water and decorated in high-end beach chic. The hostess announced with an apology that it would be a few minutes before the table was ready and directed us to the bar.

  “Drink?” Creole asked.

  “Tequila, straight-up.”

  Creole laughed in my ear. “I don’t think so. This isn’t the kind of restaurant that would appreciate you dancing on the table.” He joined Didier at the bar.

  Brad whispered in Pamela’s ear and headed over to me. Pamela scowled and quickly latched onto Fab, who stood nearby.

  Brad held out a chair for me and sat opposite me at the small table.

  “New girlfriend?” I asked.

  “Behave.” His brown eyes sparked.

  “I can kick your butt. Okay, maybe not, but I can irritate the hell out of you.”

  The corners of Brad’s mouth turned up.

  “Oh look, a smile.”

  “Pamela’s a friend. And doing me a favor.” He leaned forward. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  Creole returned, handing me a glass of red wine.

  Brad stood up. “If it tastes like swill, take it up with Frenchie;
he pre-selected the wine.”

  “Lunch this week?” I asked.

  “I’ll call you.”

  “You better. Don’t think I won’t track you down.” I watched as he picked up two glasses of wine and returned to Pamela’s side. I almost laughed when, as soon as Pamela’s attention turned to Brad, Fab used the opportunity to disappear.

  “To us.” Creole clinked his glass against mine in a toast.

  “Let’s sneak out of here.” I took a drink and licked my lips. “I don’t know why we’re here; we’re silent investors.”

  “Too late.” Creole looked over my shoulder. “Didier’s on the far side of the bar talking to a man—Richards, I presume.”

  Engaged in conversation with Didier and Fab, Benton Richards stood with his back to me. His head a mass of brown hair, his stance was tall and straight, and his wide shoulders were prominent in his flawlessly tailored suit.

  The hostess reappeared, menus in hand, and led the way to the table. I looked around the room. All the other tables were filled with couples or small groups of people. We’d been relegated to one side of the main room, the table for eight covered in white linen, china, and gleaming silverware. If Mother were here, she’d be horrified it wasn’t a window table.

  Introductions were made before we sat.

  “Nobody calls him Benton,” Creole whispered. “It’s just Richards.”

  There was an intensity to the man’s brown eyes as they swept over the women in the group. He gave off the authority of a CEO.

  Richards introduced his date. “Carly Simms.”

  The tall, stick-thin, ponytailed blonde wore a silver dress, the hem hitting her above the knee, a deep side slit showing off well-toned thighs. Before responding to our greetings, she looked up at her date. “Nice to meet you,” she said softly, curling herself back into his side.

  Two waiters appeared, wine bottles in hand, and refilled the glasses. Once our orders were taken, conversation resumed. The mood music, louder than usual in a restaurant, made it difficult to hear anything.

  After two glasses of wine, which I slugged down with brutal efficiency, I decided my own dinner parties were better—the atmosphere was relaxed, nowhere near this pretentious, and I didn’t have my sexy-girl bra digging into my sides.

  Pamela soon bored Fab, and she stopped pretending to listen as the woman chattered on. The woman turned her gaze on me. “What do you do?”

  “I’m her sidekick.” I flicked my eyes in Fab’s direction. “I lend a hand when needed and keep her from getting killed.” Brad would probably want to lock me away if I went on to detail just how many times I’d gotten Fab out of someone’s house after the occupants had come home earlier than expected.

  “Won’t anyone hire you for an actual job?”

  Fab answered. “I admire how many people Madison has helped when no one else would step forward.”

  “I’m very proud of you,” Creole said, his lips brushing my cheek.

  The food arrived, the two waiters serving everyone with efficiency. Everyone got busy eating, which slowed the small talk.

  Pamela zeroed in on Carly. “Do you always have to get permission from your master before speaking?” She giggled.

  I’d also noticed that Carly didn’t answer any question without a nod from Richards but wasn’t rude enough to bring it up.

  “Pamela!” I interrupted, hoping to drag her attention away from the other woman, who now looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  Richards held court at the other end of the table. The men talked business, excluding the women, and snippets of condo-development talk floated down the table: how some were rented and how would that alter the bottom line, the possibility of a quick flip bandied about, and so forth.

  “You two are so different.” Pamela looked between Fab and me. “Je suis surpris que vous êtes amis.”

  “Surprised you’re friends,” Fab translated for me. “Best friends, in fact.”

  Didier clasped Fab’s hand in his, smiling at her.

  “You only speak English?” Pamela asked in a pitying tone.

  Carly shot me a look of sympathy.

  I took another sip of my wine, considering whether to blurt out the handful of dirty French words that I knew or mention that I took Spanish in high school and could butcher that language as well, but I wasn’t here to be entertaining.

  “Do you two have other friends?” Pamela asked. When neither Fab nor I answered, she said, “How quaint.”

  Brad leaned in to her and whispered in a hair-raising tone, “Keep quiet.”

  She linked her arm in his and laid her head on his shoulder.

  Fab and I exchanged raised eyebrows.

  Richards stared at me from the other end of the table. I’d caught him a couple of times and stared right back; when his jaw clenched, I didn’t bother to look in his direction again. He also checked out Fab, who’d thoroughly ignored him from the start.

  Carly contributed nothing to the conversation. Whenever someone directed a question her way, she provided a minimally worded response, reserving her reactions to smiling at Richards.

  Plans were made to walk the property in question. Didier told Richards that Fab and I were partners, along with my mother and Spoon, and that we’d be included. That revelation seemed to surprise Richards.

  The waiter returned with dessert menus, and Richards waved him away without checking with anyone. My jaw tightened at his high-handedness; I’d been looking forward to dessert. And it was Richards who stood to leave first. The check showed up in front of Didier; he scribbled his signature and handed it back.

  “Since you don’t have a real job, you can get this field trip planned,” Pamela said to me, out of everyone’s hearing. “I’d do it, but my schedule is booked.”

  “You never said what it is you do,” I said.

  Pamela either wasn’t listening or didn’t care to answer. She continued, “We’ll all meet at the property so as not to waste time.”

  “I’m a business woman with interests of my own. My biggest job is minding other people’s business,” I said sweetly. “I’ll have my assistant check with everyone and set up a mutually agreeable time.”

  The men had headed to the exit, where Richards’ laugh could be heard over the voices of the others. Didier and Brad appeared relaxed.

  Creole hung back and put his arm around me, and we walked out together.

  The cool evening air swirled around me, smelling of salt and sand. The last thing I wanted was to get in the limo and endure the freezing air conditioner. My party manners had worn thin; as soon as we were inside, I’d check to see if the windows rolled down.

  “Don’t run off,” Creole said in my ear. “Didier’s waving to me.”

  We said our good-byes under the outside portico. Before I could step away, Richards kissed both my cheeks. He apparently didn’t get the memo that I don’t do touchy anything with strangers. “It was nice to meet you,” he said.

  I didn’t believe him. True to form, his date remained mute, a fake smile plastered on her face.

  The valet signaled to Richards, who took his date’s arm and left without a backwards glance.

  Fab appeared at my side. “Can’t say I enjoy business meetings.”

  “The best part is we’re best friends again. Don’t deny it; I have witnesses who heard you say it.”

  “You’re so weird.”

  Brad and Pamela were the first to climb into the limo. A brick wall appeared behind my back; I stepped back into Creole’s arms and let him lead me to the car. “Let’s sit in the same place; I can stretch out and use your lap as a pillow.”

  Fab and Didier got in last, and the doors closed.

  We claimed the back bench; I kicked off my shoes and turned to Creole. “You remember Pamela’s last name?”

  “What are you up to?” he growled in my ear.

  “Nothing… yet.”

  “Put Richards on that list. Something about him I don’t like.”

  Chapter Twen
ty-Four

  “Slow down,” I grouched at Fab. “You’re going to make me sick, and I’m going to stretch sideways and do it in your lap. We didn’t get into any trouble today; don’t ruin it with vomit.”

  Fab scrunched her nose in a tight ball.

  “How do you find these shoe outlets? This one had better prices than the last one.” I’d found two pairs; not sure how many Fab’s tall shopping bag held.

  “One of those shifty connections that you complain about.” Fab glanced in the rearview mirror and pulled around a car amidst a flurry of honking horns. “You get a report back on our dreadful dinner companion, Pammy?”

  “That was supposed to be top secret; how did you find out?”

  “You think I don’t know you? I thought your brother had stopped thinking with his—”

  “Don’t finish your sentence; I get it.” I blushed. “Enough of my brother and sex talk in the same sentence. Answer my question.”

  “I eavesdropped in the limo. It was a little hard to make out your words; you need to speak up.”

  I shook my head. “Phil’s working on it. I made it a rush job. I’m arrange the next dinner party—beach attire and shoeless.” I laughed at the pained look on her face.

  “What has you suspicious? Pamela acted like any other snotty rich person that hasn’t had their money long. Definitely not old money.” Fab sniffed.

  “I also put in a request for a check on Benton just-call-me-Richards.”

  “There’s a cold one. If his date the Doormat had any personality, Richards squashed it out of her.”

  “What was her name? I’m getting as bad as you.” I ignored her snort. “Carly, that’s it. She looked at Richards like he was a god. Speaking of people thinking with their hoohah…”

  “You better not be lumping me in that group.”

  “Hardly. You scored with Didier, and the family approves.”

  “Damn you. Okay, thank you. I was never mad about the kidnapping. Miffed that Madeline got the better of me. I was happy to be locked in a room with a big bed and Didier. Your mother thinks of everything.” Fab laughed. “Food for days, and Didier couldn’t hold out that long. Once I saw the deadbolt, I knew we weren’t going anywhere and only made a show of attempting to free us.”