Ridiculous and misogynistic, the will was unbreakable. Not that the sisters cared about the money. Their concern was for their home, and the fortune-hunters who thought they could marry their way to wealth. Recently, one, through their mother, almost succeeded.
The wounds caused by Billie Benedict's treachery were healed, but not forgotten. If not for the newest addition to their sisterhood, dear little Iris, they would have found a way to toss their mother out on her boney backside.
“I don’t want to know until the baby is born. But if I have a boy?” Bryce took her sister’s hands. “We’ll teach him what’s important. Family, honesty, integrity, and the importance of community service. Help those less fortunate and treat your fellow human beings with respect.”
“Enjoy the perks money brings while you hold what’s truly dear, those you love, close,” Calder added.
“Be generous, but, don’t be a sucker.” Andi chuckled.
Their bond was unbreakable, enviable. Dee had no doubt the sisters would raise a strong, admirable young man.
“And if the baby is a girl?” she asked.
“Same principles apply.” Bryce nodded. “With one caveat. She’ll understand how freaking amazing it is to be a woman. And, if anyone tries to convince her otherwise, the wrath of the Benedict sisters will fall on the poor fool’s head.”
“Sounds about right.” Dee clinked her wine against Bryce’s glass of club soda.
“Dare I enter the female sanctum?” Eyes closed, Noah Brennan stuck his head through a crack in the office door. “Anything I shouldn’t see?”
“Like what? Pillow fights in our underwear?” Andi pulled her fiancé into the room.
“Wedding dresses.” Noah left a lingering kiss on Andi’s lips. “I keep my eyes wide open for pillow fights.”
“Sorry, bub. You’re out of luck.”
“Wrong,” he said to the woman he loved. “I’m the luckiest man on the face the earth.”
“Cut the mush, Brennan.” Dee and Noah went way back, another link in the ever-growing Benedict chain. “Keep your hands to yourself long enough to tell me if you found who sent Linc the emails.”
“Such a ballbuster,” Noah chuckled. He held up a file just out of her reach. “Say thank you, Dee.”
“Thank you, Dee,” she parroted.
“Funny.” Playfully, Noah bopped her on the head with the folder before handing it over. “Don’t forget my fee.”
“I left a bottle of Glenlivet on the drinks cart in the living room.”
“Perfect. Just in time for poker night tomorrow.”
“What happened to beer and pretzels?” Dee asked as she scanned the information.
“First, we aren’t college kids,” Noah pointed out. “Second, thanks to the women in this room, I’ve acquired friends with high-end tastes.”
“I’d say your taste has always been top shelf.”
Dee’s comment earned her a raised eyebrow from Andi.
“Did you just compare me to a bottle of booze?”
“Booze at five hundred dollars a pop,” Dee said in her own defense.
As she planned, the price took the heat off Dee and onto Noah. Andi crossed her arms, a distinct barrier between her and her fiancé.
“You charged Dee, our friend, five hundred bucks for a few hours work?”
“Hey, she got off cheap. Some bottles run in the thousands.”
Noah’s joke fell flat.
“Dee.” Andi squeezed between her sisters leaving no room for Noah. “He’ll pay you back.”
“No, he won’t.” Sorry she started the kerfuffle, Dee sent her friend an apologetic shrug. “Noah wanted to work for free. I insisted he take the Glenlivet. He only agreed when I told him the scotch, a gift from a grateful client, isn’t to my taste.”
“I’m sorry.” Andi jumped into Noah’s arms, peppering his face with kisses. She batted her lashes, her blue eyes filled with more humor than contrition. “What can I do to earn your forgiveness?”
“I’ll think of something,” Noah whispered. “When we’re alone.”
“Oh, for the love of…” Dee gave up. With all the drama, and teasing, and sexual innuendo, she couldn’t concentrate. “Okay, Noah. Can you tear yourself away long enough to give me the gist of what you discovered?”
The absent chatter stopped as everyone’s attention focused on Noah. He took a seat, Andi by his side, and poured himself a glass of wine.
“The woman’s name is Amelia Moore.”
“Not a man.” Bryce sounded a bit disappointed.
“Definitely a woman,” Noah said. “According to her Instagram account, she’s an up-and-coming model.”
Dee studied one of the pictures Noah included in the file. Beautiful, naturally, with long, straight as an arrow, jet-black hair, Amelia Moore struck the perfect model pose, her expression somewhere between a pout and a scowl.
“Is she up-and-coming?” Dee asked as she moved to the next photograph. Same pose, same expression, different hairstyle, and outfit.
“Not really. She’s done a few minor-league fashion shows—mostly department store stuff. At twenty-seven, if she hasn’t made a splash by now, chances are she won’t.”
“True,” Andi nodded. “I don’t specify an age when I cast my shows. Trouble is, with a few exceptions, older models can’t make a living on the scraps they’re handed. They need to pay the bills, so, they quit the business. Unless you became a superstar at an early age, runway and print is a young woman’s game.”
Unable to concentrate on the detailed report, Dee decided to study the file when she was alone. For now, she was interested in Noah’s take. His first observation was right on the nose.
“For a struggling model, she lives at a pretty ritzy address.”
“Maybe she comes from money,” Calder suggested.
“Or has a very generous friend.”
Bryce’s idea seemed likely. Dee ran across attractive women and their sugar daddies, or mommies, more often than one might think.
“What’s her connection to Linc? Fan, or ex-girlfriend?”
“A Google search didn’t turn up a connection.” Noah plucked a cracker from the tray. “Could be they dated. You’ll need to ask Linc.”
Questions raced thought Dee’s mind, one chasing another. Questions Noah couldn’t answer. But he could supply a few more important facts.
“How did she mask her identity?”
“Mask is too strong a word,” Noah snorted. “Pathetic, really. Simply opened a Yahoo account under a different name.”
“On her home computer?” The woman was pathetic.
“Personal phone. I know, stupid. Least she could have done is borrow a friend’s. Or find an internet café. You can’t sneeze in New York without hitting one.”
Amelia Moore’s possible motives weren’t extensive. Either she was, as Noah said, stupid, or…
“She wants Linc to find her.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Noah agreed. “A twisted mind could decide, if Linc makes the effort to track her down, he’s flattered by her attention and interested enough to make her fantasies a reality.”
“Publicity could be a motive.” Dee paced across the room and back. She thought better when in motion.
“Who wants to be known as a sexual cyber stalker?” Calder demanded.
“Such an innocent, isn’t she?” Bryce shook her head as if her twin were a child, not a grown, experienced woman. “We live in a squeaky wheel world where no publicity is bad publicity. Amelia Moore might see any association with Linc, even a creepy one, as a pathway to success. Unfortunately, she could be right.”
“What if she wants both?” Dee stopped as her brain settled on an answer she didn’t like but seemed plausible. “Linc and a boost to her career? Jackpot city.”
“If you’re right, Amelia Moore is at best, delusional,” Noah said, his brow furrowed with a worried frown.
“At worst, a der
anged sociopath.” Bryce shuddered. “My books are filled with characters whose minds have broken with reality.”
A chill went up Dee’s spine. She dealt with dangerous characters on a regular basis and could anticipate their moves. But mental illness was a wildcard. Even an expert could only predict so much. When the mind bent far enough, the usual rules didn’t apply.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Noah warned. “Right now, we have a name and a few random facts. Nothing more.”
“Noah’s right.” Dee chastised herself for creating a boogeyman where, quite likely, none existed. “I’ll pass on what Noah found to Linc. He and his team can decide their next step.”
Ultimately, the decision to shore up his personal security rested on Linc’s shoulders. Dee had the feeling, for all his laid-back style, he wouldn’t be an easy sell. He wouldn’t be at the top of his profession if he let people push him where he didn’t want to go.
The solution was simple. Dee needed to use one of Linc’s greatest assets against him. To protect him, she had to figure out a way to charm the charmer. A few smiles, a little flirting, and a calm and reasonable presentation, Linc might see reason.
Flirty, she could handle. Linc seemed to like her smile. And, when she wanted, she could be the most reasonable person in the room. However, if Linc proved stubborn, calm could be a problem. In the face of idiocy, Dee kicked butt and asked questions later.
Attraction aside, Dee liked the man, and she didn’t want to see him get hurt. Whether she used her brains or her brawn, she refused to sit back and let Lincoln James play fast and loose with his safety.
CHAPTER TEN
~~~~
LINC LEFT HIS suitcases by the front door with the knowledge by the time he looked again, Alton Aster would have whisked away the luggage in his usual stealthily efficient manner.
Tall, slender, Alton never had a hair out of place. His uniform was a dark suit, neatly pressed, and black shoes, buffed to a mirror-like shine. Part butler, part assistant, his duties varied depending on Linc’s needs.
One of the reasons Alton kept his job when so many before him failed, besides his discretion and fastidious manner, was the man’s ability to be everywhere at the same time yet do his work without fuss or muss.
Linc’s home was his sanctuary, a place where he could close himself off from the outside world. No tennis, no reporters, or paparazzi. He needed someone who wasn’t prone to gossip and kept his own counsel as well as he kept the details of Linc’s life in order.
In his mid-twenties, the press dubbed Linc Golden Boy because everything he touched seemed to turn into the precious metal. What they didn’t mention was how hard he worked to make everything look easy.
The two-floor penthouse apartment was a place to decompress, to shut out the constant chatter. When the private elevator doors closed behind him, he was greeted by blissful silence in the one place where personal took precedence over professional.
Linc tossed his shoes next to his suitcase, his socks followed in quick succession. Mmm, he hummed with pleasure the second his bare feet touched the heated hardwood floor.
The Park Avenue address might seem like too much space for one person. He didn’t agree. By choice, his lifestyle was chaotic, filled from morning to night and beyond. Some days, finding a moment alone to simply breathe was a luxury.
Not a man who tolerated clutter, he subscribed to everything in its place and a place for everything. Each room, all nineteen, had a purpose, even the ones he rarely entered.
Linc strolled across the living room to grab a bottle of water in the open kitchen. He stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Feet spread, he surveyed the New York City landscape and for the first time since he boarded the plane for Dubai, relaxed.
Tired, more in mind than body, Linc slowly exhaled. Other than acute boredom, long hours of travel through multiple time zones didn’t bother him. He could sleep anywhere without chemical aid, a talent his coach and manager didn’t possess.
While his team suffered the effects of jetlag, Linc woke refreshed and eager for his next challenge. And make no mistake, what he made look easy, was a battle.
Linc’s opponents didn’t hand him the victory, they fought through every point, set, and match. Occasionally, they won. Defeat kept him honest, made him work harder, and whetted his athlete’s appetite.
No one wanted to be the first to face him after a loss. History told the tale. The next time Lincoln James stepped on the court, he didn’t simply win, he eviscerated the competition.
The exhibition in Dubai hadn’t been a cakewalk. On the last day, he was paired with an eighteen-year-old from Sweden. While only time would tell if he was the next Björn Borg, the kid had a lot going for him. Namely, talent, determination, and, damn him, young legs—enough to force a fifth set, but youthful exuberance couldn’t lead him to victory.
One day, maybe, Linc thought as his lips curved into a satisfied smile. For now, the old man still had the goods to get the job done.
If he were brutally honest—where his game was concerned, Linc never shied away from the truth—the match was closer than it should have been. With little on the line but his pride, between points, he allowed his mind to wander.
Linc felt his coach’s laser gaze, a direct beam from where he sat in the stands. After, victory secure, Pete demanded an answer. What the hell happened?
“I won,” Linc answered as he toweled the water from his post-shower hair. Unlike Pete’s bombastic boom, his voice remained at a calm, collected level. “As usual.”
“Your head wasn’t in the game.” Pete had chomped his unlit cigar down to a nub. “Gave that kid the idea he could beat you. Which, he almost did.”
“The last set ended 6-1,” Linc reminded his coach.
“What about the other four?” Pete rattled off the all-too-close scores. “Either the Swede was better than advertised, or your head was up your ass for most of the match.”
Remembering the exchange, Linc closed his eyes as he rotated his head in a slow, deliberate circle. The popping sound was loud enough to make him wince, a reminder what a long plane flight after a grueling week of tennis could do to his body.
Tomorrow’s scheduled session with his masseuse would set him straight. Until then, a homecooked meal, a long, steamy shower, and an early night would have to suffice.
“Linc?” Deep and well-modulated, Alton's voice carried across the room. He never raised his voice, another plus in his favor. “Danika called from the lobby. You have a visitor.”
Linc’s first instinct was to tell Danika to stick her call where the sun don’t shine. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself one of the concierge’s duties was to announce guests, welcome or otherwise. She had a smooth, unflappable demeanor. However, where her tenant’s privacy was concerned, she was fiercely protective.
Danika, all five feet of her, might look like a pushover. But when necessary, her tongue turned acid, and she had a nearby security firm on speed dial. No one ventured past her well-guarded desk unless expressly invited.
“Anyone I know?” Linc asked without turning.
“The name isn’t familiar.” Alton kept a list in his head of who was welcome, and who wasn’t. “Ms. Dee Wakefield?”
Hit by a jolt of electricity, his weariness forgotten, Linc spun around. Dee? Here? She hadn’t been far from his thoughts since the last time they were together. The memory of their kiss, her scent, her smile, almost cost him a tennis match he was heavily favored to win.
Linc licked his lips and swore he could still taste her. He reached for his phone the second he stepped from the plane, like an overeager adolescent in the throes of his first crush. His rational adult side quelled the idea.
Instinct told him Dee was leery of him for a good reason. Rather than ruin the progress he’d made, he decided to wait a little longer. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
“Linc?” Alton frowned. “Should I have Danika tell Ms. W
akefield you aren’t home?”
“No.” Linc took a drink of water so the words wouldn’t stick in his suddenly dry throat. “I’ll see her.”
Moving to the intercom, Alton raised a surprised brow but kept his thoughts to himself as he relayed his employer’s instructions.
Linc scratched his chin and froze. Shit. He hadn’t shaved in over a day. And, his clothing was wrinkled.
Dee wouldn’t care, he told himself. Still…
“How’s my breath?” Moving close, Linc blew a long puff of air in Alton’s face. “What about the rest of me? Do I smell like airplane?” Linc sniffed his shirt. “Or worse.”
“I’ve never seen you nervous over a woman.” Alton’s lips twitched, the confusion clearing from his eyes. In a blink, he morphed from employee to friend. “Dee Wakefield must be something else.”
Linc ignored the knowing smirk. He had more important matters on his mind.
“Answer my question.”
“You and your breath are fine,” Alton assured him. “Relax. Most women find the scruffy look sexy.”
“Dee isn’t most women.”
“You don’t say.” Alton’s grin widened. A familiar ding sounded. “Elevator.”
Dee, in her best bad-ass regalia of leather, denim, and attitude to spare, stepped from the car. She was fierce, sexy, and, the most beautiful woman Linc had ever seen. Her dark eyes met his and poof, no more nerves.
Linc attributed his uncharacteristic loss of control to nothing more than unsatisfied physical desire. He wanted Dee. Relief washed over Linc like cool spring rain. Sex he understood. Sex he could handle. Anything deeper was a mystery he wasn’t ready to contemplate.
“Ms. Wakefield. Please come in. My name is Alton Aster.” He greeted Dee, his reaction to her hidden behind a strictly professional smile. “I work for Mr. James. I was about to leave for the day, but is there anything I can get you before I go?”
“Thank you, no,” Dee said with a shake of her head. “Everything I need is right here.”
Linc didn’t miss the quickly masked spark of amusement that flitted across Alton’s face.
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