Reclaiming His Legacy

by Dani Wade

She raised a brow at his begging puppy dog expression, then forced herself to glance around the boat. “The question is, can you pilot this thing without breaking it?”

  “You’d be surprised how smooth she is in the water. A captain’s dream.”

  Something about the way he said the words sent a tingle along her spine. The good kind...not the afraid-he’s-a-serial-killer kind. To distract herself, she hurriedly took a picture of the boat’s name on the prow and texted it to Trinity, much to his bemusement. Even though Blake didn’t give her any creepy vibes, she wasn’t taking any chances...and he needed to know that.

  “A girl can’t be too careful,” she said with a shrug. “After all, if you are secretly a serial killer and I disappear tonight, at least my friends will know where to start looking.”

  His shocked expression made her laugh. Normally, Madison never censored herself when it came to laughter. There’d been too many sad times in her life for her not to cherish every happy moment. But here, on this beautiful boat with a beautiful man, her full-bodied laugh suddenly seemed loud, obnoxious. She quickly smothered it.

  “That’s actually pretty smart.”

  To her surprise, he didn’t seem offended that she might think he was dangerous. She hoped that proved he could handle the quirks that made Madison who she was. Not that she should care. She should have the attitude that if he didn’t like her, she could easily walk away.

  This was about fun. Not relationships or happily-ever-afters.

  So why did her hand in his feel much more important than that?

  Blake had clearly spared no expense when it came to tonight. The boat itself was brand-new, with a lot of bells and whistles from what she could tell. It had a large deck, covered access below and several leather-upholstered chairs in the upstairs driving area. It was the on-water equivalent of a luxury car.

  Blake cast off, then joined her in the chairs up front. Now it was just the two of them. Maybe she should be happy that there wasn’t a captain to navigate and watch their every move all night. She wasn’t actually sure if that would have made her happy or not.

  Only twenty minutes into this date and settling down seemed impossible. Blake guided the boat smoothly out of the slip and down the channel to where the shore spread out before them. The boat practically glided on the glassy surface.

  At this time of year, the breeze at night was cool and comforting, a relief from the midday heat. A recent rain had lowered the humidity, though Madison knew from experience that in a couple weeks it would be uncomfortable no matter what time of day without a breeze and a cold drink.

  That was life in the South.

  Blake picked up speed as they gained open water, which was when the first bit of uneasiness hit Madison’s stomach. Her focus turned inward as she tried to figure out the source. Maybe her nerves? After all, she had experienced plenty of anxiety over the past few days. No, this was something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  The queasiness rose with each passing minute, forcing Madison to swallow once or twice. She tried to concentrate on the feel of the wind on her skin, praying that the feeling would pass. Of all the things she’d anticipated tonight, feeling sick was not one.

  Blake slowed, then stopped the boat out in the middle of the glassy gray water. The wake rocked the boat, sparking a quick surge of nausea. Madison breathed in deeply, then let it out slowly. Maybe she’d be better now that the boat had stopped.

  Blake smiled over at her. “Good?”

  She nodded with what was hopefully a steady smile. The last thing she wanted was a double helping of embarrassment tonight.

  “I’ll set up dinner then.”

  Madison didn’t move as Blake made his way to the back. At the press of a button, a portion of the deck floor retracted and a table rose out of the depths. Well. She guessed they wouldn’t be eating off paper plates from their laps, would they?

  She didn’t have a lot of experience eating outdoors with formal silverware. More like fast-food wrappers and brown paper napkins.

  Madison turned back toward the front of the boat, pretending to be absorbed in the view of the water. But her stomach continued to churn. What should she do?

  Ask to go back? The thought of that trip had bile backing up into her throat. She definitely couldn’t eat right now. So she simply breathed and prayed whatever this was would go away.

  To her relief, the unease in her stomach subsided. She gave herself another minute, then two, but the ticking clock in her head told her he would start to wonder what was going on if she kept delaying. Finally Madison stood to make her way to the back of the boat. The world seemed to tilt as she walked, even though she could swear the boat wasn’t rocking. What was wrong with her?

  “I’m about ready,” Blake said as she approached. Then he looked up from his task. “Are you okay?”

  She tried to smile. She really did. Then she glanced down at the table and saw an open container of what appeared to be chicken or crab salad. Two seconds later, she was hanging over the edge of the boat to empty her stomach.

  Three

  “Are you okay now?” Blake asked.

  The ultra-pale cast to Madison’s skin worried him. Her freckles stood out even in the dim light from the dock. They’d made it back but the last thirty minutes had been a strain, as he knew the very thing he was doing to quickly get them to land was the thing that was making her sick. It had never occurred to him that she would suffer motion sickness.

  He was used to drama like crying, yelling and feigned illness. One look at Madison, with her trembling and careful movements, convinced him this was real. His chest went heavy, filling with an unfamiliar mixture of responsibility and regret.

  “No,” Madison croaked, her hands tightening around the edge of the dock where she now sat. She swallowed hard enough for him to see. “Actually, I’m good. Just let me not move for a while.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her sheer desperate need to stay still made his own stomach twist. Having ridden everything from a camel to a fighter jet in the name of adventure, Blake could only relate through sympathy. “Why didn’t you warn me that you suffered from motion sickness?”

  She cracked one eyelid open to peek at him. Even her brilliant green eyes seemed a paler color. “I didn’t know. I’ve never been on a boat before.”

  That explained that. For the second time since meeting her, Blake found himself in the minor role of rescuer. Without an instructor in sight... “I’m gonna lock everything down. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

  She nodded but didn’t speak. Blake left her to get her bearings on the dock while he secured the yacht and packed up their uneaten dinner.

  He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or rage at his current situation. His only thought when he’d chosen this adventure had been to impress her. He knew she didn’t have a lot of money and probably had never seen a vehicle like this one. Add in the reflection of a full moon on the water at night. Instant romance! That was as far as he’d gotten.

  He’d been searching for the quick and easy route to accomplish his goal of getting into the house. And maybe the current situation afforded him the perfect opportunity. He could kill two birds with one stone. By taking her home and watching over her, he could make sure she didn’t suffer any ill effects from the motion sickness and get some time to search the house. The longer he spent with Madison, the more sleeping with her to accomplish his plan seemed wrong. Madison wasn’t a casual girl and he simply couldn’t treat her that way.

  His frustration sparked as he thought back over the last few days and his father’s refusal to let him see Abigail. He’d been worried about how she was, and anxious to do something the old man would see as “progress” so that maybe he could check on her. But looking over at Madison on the steady wooden planks, sunk in on herself to ease the pain in her stomach, made him feel guilty for that, as well.

&
nbsp; Blake finished securing the boat, then stepped up onto the dock. “Here,” he said, offering both his hands to help her up, “let’s get you home.”

  “Oh, right.” Madison pushed her hair back behind one ear. Was her grimace one of discomfort or embarrassment? “You don’t have to do that. If you’ll just call me a car...”

  Blake scoffed. He may be a lot of things, but he wasn’t the type of man to send a sick woman home all by herself. Besides, he still had a job to do. “Absolutely not. I’ll take you home. Then we’ll both know you’re safe.” He thought back to her insistence that she meet him here. “I promise I’ll take you straight to your house.”

  With great reluctance, Madison put her hands in his and let him lift her to her feet. He waited a moment to make sure she was steady before letting go. He held her hands just long enough to feel the tremble in them. Was she nervous? Was it him? Or something else?

  Part of him was intrigued at the myriad emotions she’d shown tonight. Most women just put the best face on things, presenting him with a facade. But not this one—she was very real.

  And overly quiet as they started the drive back to New Orleans proper. Blake had to admit he found himself at a loss.

  Which reminded him of exactly where he was and what he was doing. He glanced over at the woman in the seat next to him, who had her gaze trained solidly out the window. She probably was embarrassed by all of this, whereas he was completely focused on his own emotions and complications.

  So he softened his voice when he said, “What’s the address, Madison?”

  He knew exactly where she lived. But taking her straight there would give away too much. Instead, he’d play this out like he knew nothing about her other than what she’d told him. Then he’d go to work on plan B.

  “Just take me to Maison de Jardin.”

  The husky quality of her voice only heightened the panic racing in his veins. Nope, that wasn’t a good idea.

  “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your own bed?”

  She immediately shook her head. “No,” she snapped.

  Surprise had him gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. So she was more spirited than he’d thought at first. As he remained silent, she squirmed just a bit, causing her seat to squeak in the quiet. He glanced over at her, but she continued to face the window.

  After letting the silence stretch out for a while, he took a deep breath and said, “Look, I just don’t want you to be alone and sick.” And that was true, despite his currently conflicted emotions and motives. “This is my fault. Let me drive you to your house. I’ll stay with you until you feel better...rest will help.”

  Please let this work.

  The barest sounds of a sniffle caused more panic to shoot through him. But another quick glance at her showed no evidence of tears. He’d dealt with a lot of insincere waterworks through the years, but something about the rawness of Madison’s demeanor right now took it to a whole other level he wasn’t sure how to handle.

  “Just take me to Maison de Jardin. My friend Trinity is there this evening. She’ll watch over me.”

  He felt a wave of disappointment. He actually wanted to be there with Madison. To make this better—though he had no clue how to do that. But he wanted to be there in a way that had nothing to do with his mission. At all.

  Remember Abigail... Remember why you’re here...

  Right.

  What could he do to salvage this? He glanced over at Madison, who was in almost total darkness. True sickness wasn’t something he had any experience with. What should he do?

  He stewed for a bit, tapping his finger against the steering wheel. By her deep and even breathing, he guessed she’d fallen asleep. Probably the best thing for her.

  As soon as the lights of New Orleans appeared in front of them, Blake came up with plan B. Madison slept as he found the local coffee shop he wanted, and locked her inside the car. After a few minutes, he was back. Madison stirred when the internal lights flicked on.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Not far from the house,” he assured her. “I stopped to get you something for your stomach. It probably shouldn’t be empty.”

  She glanced at the cup and frowned. “I don’t think coffee is a good idea.”

  “It’s not coffee. It’s ginger lemon tea. Supposed to help settle an upset stomach.”

  Slowly she reached out for the cup, as if scared to believe him. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

  “Don’t be impressed,” he said, brushing it off. “You have just witnessed the extent of my knowledge of medicine.”

  She chuckled, ending with a sigh. Maybe he’d salvaged something of tonight.

  A few minutes later, he pulled the car into the circular drive of Maison de Jardin, which he knew bordered her own family land. The house was lit up, assuring Blake that someone was inside.

  He unbuckled his seat belt. “Let me just—”

  Before he could finish, she had unstrapped herself and was out the door. “No need. Thanks, Blake.”

  Then the door slammed and she made a quick but unsteady trip to the front door. Blake remained frozen as she unlocked it and slipped inside. Before she did, he caught how the lights along the sidewalk glinted off the wet trails on her cheeks. So much for plan B. He thought about her having someone to look after her, then thought about Abigail, wondering if she was okay tonight.

  Would he even be allowed a plan C?

  * * *

  “Oh, Lord. We are in trouble now.”

  Madison looked over her shoulder to see Trinity and one of the tenants, Tamika, come into the kitchen at Maison de Jardin. She wanted to grin at Trinity’s facetious comment but instead turned back to the stand mixer on the granite counter to hide her embarrassment. She was nothing if not predictable. Another strike against her.

  “Don’t judge,” Madison said as she continued adding flour to the mixture. “Besides, everyone benefits.”

  “Tell that to my waistline,” Tamika complained.

  “It’s totally worth it,” Trinity said.

  Her boss at the charity completely understood where Madison was coming from. After several years of working together, she could usually recognize when Madison needed some downtime. And showing up here last night after her disaster of a date certainly qualified.

  Trinity had been helping out the night before with some budgeting work, which thankfully meant Madison hadn’t had to take Blake up on his offer. But she suspected that Trinity hadn’t wanted to be at her deceased husband’s mansion across town, hounded by memories of her best friend and the business consultant hired to make her an acceptable heir to Michael Hyatt’s business empire.

  One of Madison’s indulgences was to bake in the kitchen at the grand house. She could bake at home, but there were a lot of sad memories associated with her house, her kitchen. It had always been depressing to make micro versions of her father’s favorite sweets, because there were only two of them to cook for, and there was barely anything in the cabinets.

  Here in Maison’s kitchen with its original brick walls, she could focus on the peacefulness of cooking for people who appreciated it. All the amenities didn’t hurt, either.

  Trinity peeked over Madison’s shoulder at the batch already cooling on the counter. “Chocolate chip! My favorite!”

  “I’m glad I could help,” Madison mumbled.

  Tamika said, “I should’ve known you’d be here baking after your experience yesterday. I guess residual nausea kept you from starting sooner.”

  Madison whirled around, slapping her hands on her hips. Flour dust floated into the air. “Who told you about that?”

  Tamika’s eyes went wide. “I guess a little birdie told me,” she said before glancing over at Trinity.

  Great! The humiliation of her failed date would be all over the buildin
g by noon, less than twenty-four hours since the debacle. Word spread fast. Madison gave Trinity a pointed stare.

  Her friend had a chagrined look on her face. “Sorry! I was worried about you.”

  “We were worried about you,” Tamika corrected. “That’s why we’re down here now instead of waiting until the cookies are completely done. Besides, we thought you might need somebody to talk to after those new posts.”

  “What posts?” Madison asked, confused.

  Tamika shook her cell phone. “Your boy is the subject of today’s New Orleans Secrets and Scandals blog.”

  Trinity groaned. “No, please, no more gossip!”

  “Don’t blame the messenger,” Tamika said with a shrug.

  Trinity stomped over to the fridge. “Right about now I could use a gallon of wine.”

  Unfortunately for her, the charity didn’t allow alcohol on the premises. But Madison could fully sympathize. The anonymous owner of the Secrets and Scandals blog was in the process of making Trinity’s life hell. The site posted all kinds of lies about Trinity’s relationship with her late husband and questioned her involvement in his death. There had even been posts digging into Trinity’s abusive childhood. The popular blog had made Trinity’s current sticky situation even more complicated.

  Madison wished she could help her friend as she sought to learn everything she could from the business consultant the company had hired to make Trinity a better candidate to run the businesses. She knew Trinity was afraid of losing the court case Michael’s relatives had initiated to take the estate from her. Trinity didn’t discuss it too much, but Madison had a feeling the situation with the consultant, who was living in the Hyatt mansion, had taken a personal turn that had Trinity more than a little unsettled.

  When Tamika handed over her phone, Madison couldn’t stop her gaze from scanning down the post. Its headline blared, Playboy Home for Good? Various salacious tidbits jumped out at her from there: Last seen romancing a Greek princess... Making a splash in Rio de Janeiro... Photographs of him looking like a Scandinavian prince with a blonde model in a bikini...