Crossing Double (A Heartbreaker Novel Book 3)

by Tamra Baumann

  It sent a zap of heat straight to his gut. “Appreciate that.”

  A woman with spiked red hair, a top that barely held her assets in place, and pants so tight she might as well have not bothered wearing any at all, joined them. “Hey, gang. Who’s this, Sara?” Her blue eyes zeroed in on his.

  Sara held out a hand his way. “Trina, this is our new business manager, Brent. Justin guilted the poor guy into volunteering to accompany me to the wedding.”

  Her eyes did a quick up-and-down inspection of his body. “Nice to meet you.” Trina frowned as she tapped a finger on her full bottom lip. “I’m thinking of dressing Sara in pink. You’re okay with wearing a pale pink shirt, aren’t you, Brad? I want you two to coordinate.”

  Pink? Hell no! He’d never worn a pink shirt in his life.

  “It’s Brent. And I’d rather not.” The guys at happy hour would never let him live it down if they saw him with Sara in the tabloids the day after the wedding wearing a pink shirt.

  Veronica called out. “No pink at my wedding!”

  Trina’s brow arched. “Then I guess we’ll go with Justin’s choice.”

  Seemed not many in the house were fans of Veronica’s.

  Justin returned with a dark suit and a blue dress. “Here, you two. Try these on. Wasn’t sure on your fit, Brent, but you can adjust the tux pants at the waist.”

  Not sure if he was expected to strip right there, or worse, if Sara was going to, because that might be too much for any man to bear, he locked gazes with Trina. “Shirt?”

  “Your date doesn’t waste words, does he, Sara?” Trina turned and grabbed a white fancy shirt and a dark blue tie that matched Sara’s dress off a nearby rack. Then she grabbed some shoes. “Hmmm. Big feet. What are you, a thirteen? No, I bet fourteen.” She looked up and hitched her brows.

  He nodded. “Fourteen.”

  “Lucky Sara.” She handed him the shoes.

  Sara rolled her eyes. “Give the guy a break, Trina.” She looked up at him. “Ignore them. They all live to tease around here.”

  He followed behind Sara’s tan legs, while trying his best to not look at them. But then his gaze found her butt, and that was nice too.

  He needed to find the missing money before Sara drove him nuts.

  When she stopped abruptly, he nearly ran her over, stopping just in the nick of time.

  She pointed to her right. “You can take that one.” Then she circled behind a matching silk privacy screen of her own.

  His shoulders and head stuck up over the folding screen, so he had to crouch down a little when slipping out of his gun holster. Just the top of Sara’s head was visible over her trifold screen as her yellow dress landed over the partition and then a black bra joined it.

  The thought of Sara topless just a few feet away was a pleasant one he needed to shake off. He quickly slipped his holster onto a hook and then added his sport coat over it. After he’d slid out of his slacks, he folded them neatly and was about to lay them on a chair when he spotted a legal-size envelope lying on the seat. The return address was Golden Bear Real Estate Group. Holden’s fake holding company.

  Was it a test? Did they suspect he was investigating them?

  Screw it. No way he’d pass up a chance to possibly find evidence to crack the case.

  He glanced around one more time to check that everyone was still occupied, and then he reached for the papers inside. It was an offer to buy another piece of real estate for cash. His heart pounded in anticipation.

  He grabbed his phone from his suit pocket to shoot pictures of the pages inside. He’d study them later, but the contract might be just what he needed to bust them all.

  Keeping his breathing steady and his heartbeat in check, he shot the last of the pages.

  Just as he started to return the pages back to their envelope, Holden called out, “Hey, new guy?”

  Dammit. That’s me.

  He stood up and looked over the screen. Both Veronica and Holden were staring at him. Fixing a bland expression on his face, he said, “Yes?”

  Holden frowned. “Did I leave an envelope in there?”

  “Let me look.” Brent quickly slid the papers all the way back inside and folded the flap tight. “Is this it?” He held up the envelope.

  “Yeah.” Holden nodded. “Bring it here will you?”

  “Sure.” Brent was in his socks and boxers, so he quickly pulled on the new suit pants, but they didn’t fit. There were some adjustable things on the sides he couldn’t figure out.

  Fingers snapping, Holden called out, “Need those papers, buddy.”

  “Yep. Coming.” He slipped the white shirt over his shoulders, forgoing the tiny black buttons. “Be right there.”

  Giving up on the side things on his pants, he snatched up the envelope, held on to his pants and jogged across the room to hand it over. “Here you go.”

  Sara’s father, tall, golden-haired, Botox injected, teeth bleached, and skin unnaturally tanned, took the envelope from him. “Thanks, pal.”

  Veronica, a blonde bombshell, and an equally fake counterpart to Holden but only six years older than Sara said, “His name is Brent, babe.” She smiled at him while her gaze ran across his bare chest. “Will you save me a dance or two on Saturday?”

  “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “Pity.” Her lips formed a pout that’d make a two-year-old proud.

  He was about to leave when she added, “When I get back from my honeymoon, we’ll have that meeting. Okay?” She smiled like a cat about to dive into a bowl of cream as her gaze did a full up and down over his body again.

  The woman had no shame. She was setting up a sex date right in front of Holden.

  Sara moved beside him and said, “Let’s finish getting you dressed so you can get back to work, Brent.” Sara’s hand slipped around his arm, and she yanked him toward his dressing area.

  He glanced down at Sara and nearly swallowed his tongue. Her shimmery dark blue dress fit like it was made just for her, highlighting all the parts that made her so perfectly a woman. The soft curve of her breasts and those hips. God. Her tall shoes made her legs go on for miles.

  Once they were behind his partition, she frowned. “Figured you might need some help back there.”

  What he needed help with from Sara was off-limits. “Thanks. Do you know how these things work on the sides of my pants?”

  Sara nodded and got to work on his waistband. “You have a small waist for such a big guy. All those crunches we see you do in the gym every morning, no doubt.” She tightened up the sides of his pants with a violent tug, and then lifted his hand and buttoned up his cuff. “I’m sure it’s part of what Veronica wants to ‘meet’ with you about.” Sara yanked up his cuff on the other side, none too gently.

  He’d been using Holden’s gym because it was top-notch. Maybe he should start using the crappy one in his apartment building from now on? But then, it sometimes gave him the opportunity to talk to Holden, so he’d stick with his routine. “I would never cross any lines with your future stepmother.”

  “Veronica will never be any kind of mother to me.” She shook her head as she jerked his shirt together and started working the tiny black buttons. “Zoila told me Veronica has been hitting on you, so I think it’s best we keep you fully clothed. Your abs alone could tempt a nun.”

  He looked down. Sara had just buttoned up his shirt like he was a little kid. And because she’d seemed so upset by Veronica’s flirting, he’d let her. Maybe he’d better handle tucking in his shirt on his own, though. She was being a little violent, and there were parts he’d rather she not shove around.

  When her hand reached out to grab his suit coat from the hook, his shot out and covered hers. Couldn’t let her see the gun underneath. He’d just ignore that soft skin under his. “Other one.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Sorry. I’m a little distracted.”

  By his abs? That shouldn’t make him want to smile, but it did.

  “This wedding
is such a joke,” she said.

  Oh. So not him. The wedding.

  She grabbed the other suit coat from the hook along with his tie and wrapped them both around his shoulders. She whispered, “I hate that my dad keeps marrying the same kind of woman. They only want to be with him because of his fame, but then they figure out he’s not nearly as loaded as they think he is, and they leave him. But only after they’ve slept with the pool guy and the gardeners, just to make things worse. No offense.”

  Was he supposed to take offense? “Like I said, I’m not interested in Veronica.”

  “Yes. But you’re a man. And most cave to women like her eventually. Scott did.”

  So, this was about Scott? Or her father? Hell, maybe it was all about Veronica. It was hard to keep up. “Scott slept with Veronica?”

  “No. Brandi. Same thing.” She started in on his tie. He should probably stop her, but she seemed determined to continue dressing him, and it wasn’t a hardship, so he’d let her do her thing.

  When she was done, he glanced in the mirror. She’d made his tie look really nice. He should have paid attention to how she’d done that. “May I point out that your father does have money now. Even if it’s in your account, he’s got control of two hundred million. That’s no drop in the bucket where I come from. So maybe Veronica will be the one who stays?” Was that helping? Maybe not.

  She pushed on his shoulder. “Sit.” After he complied, she slipped on one of the shiny shoes. “That money won’t last six months. You’ll see.”

  So he’d done it before? Laundered money through real estate. But then where did it all go?

  She laced up his other shoe then stood up and studied him like a bug under a microscope. “Just need to fix this.” She leaned closer, so close her subtle sweet perfume filled his senses, and then she ran her fingers through his hair, straightening it. It sent a nice shiver up his spine.

  She whispered, “How could my father not see that Veronica wanted to lick you like an ice cream cone back there? Is he blind or just totally oblivious?”

  He wasn’t sure if he was actually supposed to answer that, so he stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. He’d never worn clothes so nice.

  Justin appeared. “Look at you two. Like the top of a wedding cake.”

  Ignoring Justin, Sara said, “I wish my father would just quit marrying them. Save himself the grief of getting yet another divorce and just live with them until it sizzles out.”

  Brent glanced at Justin and held up his hands, palms up. In a what-the-heck-do-I-say gesture.

  Justin nodded in understanding. Then he walked over to Sara and took her hands in his. “Hey. Can you please stop long enough to see what I’ve created?” He turned her around to face their reflection in the mirror. “You guys look amazing.”

  Sara blinked at their reflection as if finally seeing them clearly for the first time. “Wow. We really do.” Her gaze raised up to meet his. “You clean up nice, Brent. Thanks again for being my date.” Her eyes filled with tears as she left.

  He turned to Justin. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing.” Justin smiled. “When our sweet Sara gets upset, she doesn’t scream and yell. She cleans, straightens, or fixes things. Consider yourself fixed.” Justin turned and disappeared.

  Fixed? He’d been broken for so long, he doubted anyone could ever fix him.

  Chapter 3

  The thought of seeing Scott and Brandi together at her father’s wedding haunted Sara all night. So much so, she rose early on Friday morning to beat the crap out of a punching bag in her dad’s gym. Not that little one that looked like a volleyball. Nope. She was going for the fat, round one that hung in front of her looking all intimidating.

  She poked it with a finger, and it barely moved. The bag was really heavy and almost as big as she was. She’d never hit a person in her entire life, and she didn’t want to start by clocking Scott and Brandi at the wedding if she lost it, so the plan was to get her aggressions all out before she saw them again.

  After she slid her hand inside a boxing glove, she lifted it up. Now what? How was she supposed to tie the thing with only one hand? Use her teeth? That might work. She pulled the lace tight and placed it between her teeth to hold it. But that still just left one hand to tie it tight. And then only her teeth when she put the other glove on. Oh, forget it. She didn’t want to hit that heavy thing anyway. She’d probably break her wrist and then Scott and Brandi would win. Again.

  She threw down the glove and glanced at the new stationary bike that had shown up a few days before. It had a built-in screen and speakers. A spin class might do the trick.

  She rummaged around in her father’s locker area until she found some padded bike shorts and a brand-new pair of riding cleats she’d never seen before. Must go with the new bike.

  After changing, she walked to the bike, figured out how to turn it on, and then clipped her shoes into the pedals with a solid click. Like a ski boot clicking into a binding. The shoes fit nice and tight on the pedals.

  The screen showed twenty options for different classes. It even had scenic rides. Maybe she’d take a ride through Tuscany first to warm up. Or maybe Paris. Yeah, Paris sounded fun, so she poked the icon, put her earbuds in, and got lost peddling down a cobblestone street. Much better than being violent. So relaxing, she could almost smell the buttery pastries in the windows of the little shops as she peddled by. And the flowers, they were all colors of spring and so very pretty. She should probably stop meandering through the countryside and take a real spin class, the kind that made her sweat and huff, but she was having so much fun, she decided to do the trek across Australia next.

  A movement to her right pulled her attention from her ride past the Sydney Opera House. Brent had joined her and was doing his ab crunches again. He must’ve been there for a while because he’d worked up a sweat that made his shirt stick to the outline of his six-pack abs.

  Why did men look great when they worked out and were all sweaty, and women just looked gross? She hated to think what she must look like with her hair in a ponytail and her bangs plastered to her damp forehead. But then, why should she care? The new plan was to stay away from all men until after she finished school. Then maybe she’d get lucky and find a trustworthy guy to marry and have kids with. If that kind of man even existed. If not, she’d be like her mom and have kids on her own.

  She glanced Brent’s way again and caught him looking at her legs. Probably because her form was wrong or something. She went back to her ride but lost interest. Maybe she’d switch to the elliptical for a while.

  She shut down the program and yanked her earbuds out. After pointing her toes, she jerked her foot to the right, but her shoe wouldn’t release from the pedal. She tried her left foot, but that one wouldn’t give either.

  Great. Her feet were stuck on the stupid bike.

  She reached down to release the top strap on her right shoe, ratcheted like a ski boot, but apparently, she’d adjusted it too tight, because it wouldn’t budge either. It was new and stiff and probably required two hands. She let go of the handlebar and leaned down with both hands but stopped. If she fell off while attempting to escape her new shoes, she could break an ankle. Or her neck.

  A deep voice behind her said, “Need a hand?”

  Of course, he’d be right there to witness her humiliation once again. But she’d look like a bigger idiot if she sat there and waited for him to leave so she could call Zoila to come save her. “Yes, please.”

  He reached down, grabbed her shoe’s heel, and then gave a quick twist. Sure enough, her right shoe came free. That his bicep had flexed nicely wasn’t enough to make her forget her embarrassment, but it’d come close. He had a mighty impressive body.

  She closed her eyes to block out any more bulging muscles and let him do the other foot before she opened them again.

  “Thank you.” It’d just sound like an excuse if she explained everything was new and adjusted wrong, so she climbed off the bike an
d sat on the floor to remove her shoes. To her surprise, he flopped next to her and unlatched the mechanisms for her. He smelled like a combo of sweaty male and woodsy deodorant. It was actually…nice. She could only hope her sweaty socks weren’t stinky.

  He gently pulled the shoes off her feet. “I tried this bike out yesterday too. Someone had adjusted the men’s shoes all wrong. They should be at a lower setting so you can clip out easily. Want me to fix those for you?” He pointed to her shoes.

  Wasn’t he going to tease her about getting stuck on the bike? Everyone teased her about everything. No one in her house ever took her seriously. Especially when it came to her studies. They all assumed she’d been taking her time finishing school so her mom would keep the checks coming, but that wasn’t true. She was going to shock them all when she graduated top of her class come next May. Well, except for Zoila. She knew the truth. “I can fix them. I should have checked before I got on. But thanks.”

  “Okay.” He hopped up and held out a hand to help her up.

  She slowly took his hand, surprised at how callused it felt for an accounting guy, and stood. “Thanks for saving my life. I could’ve been stuck on there for days, and no one would have noticed with all the wedding prep going on.” She smiled at him, not that she expected one back.

  “I would’ve noticed. You’re my date tomorrow.” Without a smile, he gave her hand a quick squeeze. “What time should I be here?”

  Yeah. That. “Depends. Do you want to ride in one of the limos with the wedding party early or take my car?” She didn’t want to make him drive on top of everything else.

  “Right.” He dropped her hand. “My electric car would embarrass you.”

  Crap. She hadn’t thought that. It probably made her sound like a snob. “Not at all. I’m all for preserving the environment too.”

  His right brow cocked in disbelief. “That’s why you bought a Porsche?”

  “No. That was a gift from my mother. If I were buying the car, I couldn’t afford one as nice as yours.” She wasn’t going to tell him that her mom had given her the car for staying on the Dean’s list at school. She’d taken a long time to figure out what her major would be and was a little old to be waving her report card around like a kid.