More Than Tempt You

by Shayla Black

  “It’s why I waited two hours to call. I wanted to be positive.”

  “The one who graduated summa cum laude from Stanford with a double major in business and finance at seventeen? The one who got an MBA from Harvard at twenty? You’re telling me that woman is slinging beers at some island dive?”

  “Hey, this isn’t a dive. Well, not a total one. And I don’t know about her pedigree. You’re the guy who’s memorized her bio. But I double-checked her face with a picture online. The woman I’m looking at is definitely her. To be honest, if I’d known the body she had to go with that face, I would have been motivated to find her sooner. Whoa…”

  I grit my teeth. I give zero fucks about Bethany Banks’s body. I only care about holding her responsible for her actions. “Before I chase her halfway across the ocean, I need to be sure it’s her.”

  Ash tsks. “I figured you’d say that. She introduced herself as Beth. And I can tell she’s never waited tables in her life. But if you want absolute proof, I’m texting you a picture right now. I took it ten minutes ago while I pretended to look at my phone as she was picking up drinks. See for yourself.”

  A few seconds later, an image pops up in my text messages. I tap on the thumbnail. My entire body flares hot at the platinum blonde with the green eyes, delicate face, and revealing-as-hell bikini top. Who cares if she’s banging when she’s a cold-hearted bitch?

  I force myself to compare this picture to others I’ve snagged from the Internet. Then I turn arctic cold. “That’s her.”

  “Like I said… You’re welcome.”

  “Oh, my god. Thanks, man. You saved me weeks of digging and probably a few thousand dollars in private investigators. Hiring one was my next move.”

  “No need. Just hop on over to Maui. And bonus? Tropical New Year.”

  The timing is terrible. But I have to go. I can’t let the little scam artist disappear again.

  Holy shit, am I really going to jet on the first plane to Hawaii? It’s crazy and impulsive. And my last recourse.

  But once I get to Maui…then what? Somehow, I have to prove Bethany Banks is no angel. If I charge in like a bull and make accusations or demands, will she even speak to me? Or will she simply vanish when the pressure gets too intense again?

  In the back of my head, I remember my father telling me how much I’d like Bethany, what a wonderful woman she is, and that I should date her. Blah, blah, blah.

  I’m not sure what to do or how to handle the situation, but I shout for my brothers, both of whom are nursing hangovers. When they finally stumble downstairs and give me groggy what-the-fuck glares, I sit them down.

  “I’m going to Maui for a few days. I’m trusting you two to behave and not burn the house down. No parties. Keep the loudness to a minimum so the neighbors don’t freak. I don’t care if you have a girl over. I don’t care if you drink. But if you do, don’t drive. I’ll call you when I can.”

  I’ve got my head in my phone, already looking for the next available flight, when Bry stands. “You’re just leaving us for some tropical vacation? It’s the fucking holidays.”

  “This is business. I found Bethany Banks and I’m going to get some goddamn answers so that Dad can hopefully rest in peace.” And I don’t have to live with the regret of failing him.

  It’s after midnight when I land in Maui. Thank God there was one seat left on a flight that departed LAX just after eight p.m. I had barely enough time to throw a few things in a duffel and prod Bret into dropping me off at the airport. I raced onto the plane as the flight attendant called for final boarding.

  After a long but uneventful flight, I trudge off the aircraft and into the airport that’s not like one I’ve ever seen. It’s almost quaint. And after I leave the arrival area, it’s open to the tropical night air.

  Ash is waiting for me in baggage claim with a wide smile and a tan that people don’t usually have in December unless they’re getting it chemically…or living in the tropics.

  “Hey, man,” he greets me with a shoulder bump and a back slap. “You look like shit.”

  “I feel like shit. Long-ass flight.”

  “You’ve been flying back and forth between LA and North Dakota too much, trying to juggle a pair of demanding businesses.”

  I nod. “And dealing with my crazy younger brothers.”

  “When was the last time you got drunk?”

  “I can’t even remember. Labor Day, I think.”

  “We’ll have to fix that pronto.” Then he leans in and drops his voice. “Do I dare ask the last time you got laid?”

  I huff. “Even longer. All I’ve done since Dad died is work and solve a never-ending string of problems.”

  “We’ll definitely have to fix that, too. Because I don’t know how you’re not going crazy or blind.”

  Despite the tension, I laugh. Ash has been a good balance for me lately. I can usually find the humor and fun in almost any situation. But for the last six months, I’ve sucked at it.

  “I don’t know, either.” I shrug. “But you’re probably right.”

  He glances at my duffel. “Any other bags?”

  I shake my head. “No time. I figured I could pick up anything I forgot on the island.”

  “Totally. And like I said earlier, I don’t have a big pad, but you’re welcome to crash on my sofa while you’re here.”

  “Thanks.” I clap him on the back. “Really. I was willing to spend whatever time and money I needed to find Barclay Reed’s accomplice. You saved me a lot of both.”

  “You should have seen my face when she walked up to the bar and introduced herself as Beth. She probably thought I was stupid or lust-struck because I gaped like an open-mouthed mute.” He laughs at himself. “But I didn’t let on that I knew who she was. I figured that would send her running.”

  I nod. “That’s why I have to devise a plan. I’m here. To get closure, I need to be. But I’m not sure how to proceed. I can’t bust in and start demanding answers.”

  Ash nods. “You’ve already done that over the phone.”

  “Exactly. She knows my name, so the minute I get in her face and tell her who I am…”

  “She’ll shut down and sneak out again.”

  “Yep. If she hadn’t fled San Diego and left all my questions unanswered, I might have believed she’d cough up information—if not own up to her crimes—when cornered. Now? I’m sure she’ll only slither away. I can’t risk it.”

  Ash strides beside me, obviously thinking. “So you need another angle.”

  “Yeah, something she won’t see coming. After working with her today, do you know anything about her? Did she talk about herself at all?”

  “No. She was standoffish. I tried to engage her once or twice while she waited for me to mix her drinks. The only thing she divulged was that she’d never been to Hawaii and that she’s staying with family.”

  “Family?” I try to think back through everything I know about this woman. I’ve studied her life. I know her history. I don’t remember anything about relatives except her mother. “That’s bullshit. Her mom finally married for the first time two years ago and lives in Salt Lake City.”

  “What about her dad?”

  Barclay Reed. That Bethany is his daughter is a fact they’ve somehow managed to keep mostly under wraps for three decades. But I seem to remember the douchebag had kids by his wife.

  I pluck out my phone and start surfing. “Okay, you’re right. Her dad has three kids. And they all live on the island. Oh, shit. Her half sister is married to Noah Weston.”

  “The famous quarterback?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow. That’s cool. Think that’s who she’s visiting?”

  I shrug. “I’ll find out.”

  I’m not entirely sure how the knowledge will help me, but learning as much as possible about my enemy can’t hurt. But to get her to confirm that—or even have a conversation with her—I’m pretty sure I only have one unpalatable option.

  “How are you
going to do that?”

  “Paste on a smile and make nice with her. Eventually gain her trust and encourage her to confide in me.”

  He scowls. “Can you act that well?”

  Great question. “I have to.”

  Ash shakes his head as we hit the front of the airport and emerge into the breezy Maui night. It’s warm and slightly sultry. I’ve spent my last four Decembers in North Dakota, so this is a huge change. And I admit, not an unwelcome one.

  He leans closer. “Maybe you should kill two birds with one stone and seduce her.”

  I look at him as if he’s gone crazy. “I’m not touching that woman.”

  “You’re going to take one look at her and want to. I guarantee it. You can warm her up faster and end your dry spell all at once. Getting your pound of flesh—literally—is a genius idea. Damn, I’m full of holiday gifts.”

  I want to refute Ash, but I’ve seen pictures of Bethany. I can’t deny she’s gorgeous. If she was any other woman I didn’t already hate, I would relish the chance to tempt her into bed.

  I drop my duffel in the trunk of Ash’s beat-up sedan. “Not happening. I’ll think of something else.”

  He shrugs like I’m crazy. “Good luck with that. She didn’t want to make nice with anyone yesterday. You really should consider giving her big Os. Nothing opens a woman up faster.”

  Even if she’s the most attractive female on the planet, I refuse to give Bethany Banks an ounce of pleasure. “Nope.”

  “Did you come this far to fail? Seriously, I don’t see her cozying up to anyone. That woman is determined to succeed at whatever she does, almost like she has something to prove. Yesterday, she was terrible her first two hours on the job. Then my manager came out and gave her a few pointers. She excused herself for five minutes, came back reading her phone, then… After that, it was as if she’d been waiting tables for months. She learned fast.”

  I’m not surprised. “She’s seriously intelligent. Hell, she’s a Mensa member.”

  “Huh. So she’s smart and stunning. Does the woman have any flaws?”

  “Her moral character, dipshit. She swindled dozens of people out of hundreds of millions of dollars.”

  Ash scowls. “Are you sure? If she made all this money off of her victims, why isn’t she living the high life somewhere? Why is she waiting tables?”

  It’s a fair question, one I’ve considered. One I admittedly don’t have an answer for. Sure, the feds still have her legal bank accounts frozen, but if she’s got the stolen cash parked offshore, why isn’t she living the high life now? “I’ll find that out, too.”

  Because if I can track down other people’s money, maybe I can track down my father’s. And I can prove Bethany Banks is guilty so she can go to jail—where she belongs. I don’t know how or why the FBI overlooked her as a suspect. Did she somehow con her way out of prison time? I don’t know, but I’m going to figure it out and right this injustice.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When my phone rings at two in the afternoon the following day, I answer Ash’s call immediately. “Well?”

  “Brush off your rusty bartending skills. You’re in. You start in three hours.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. Game on.

  Last night, Ash and I stayed up, plotting the best tactic for me to interact with Bethany. If I’m going to win her over and be her pal, I can’t pose as a customer who buys a drink or two. I need time with her. Working together seems like the smartest ploy. Since Ash is in good with the manager, he can give me the same shifts as Bethany. She and I will have being new on the job and new to the island in common. After those conversation starters, I’ll figure out how to build from there.

  “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

  “No sweat. I’ll be by to pick you up in an hour. We’ll grab a bite and head in to work.”

  “Great.”

  I get cleaned up, check in on my brothers and Howie, who’s running my business back in North Dakota. Then pace while I wait for Ash. I try to nail down my opening approach—what I’ll say to coax her into talking to me, how I’ll thaw her ice.

  By the time Ash arrives, I’ve got a rough plan in my head, and it starts with flattery. Don’t most people like to be buttered up? Then I’ll give her some aw-shucks, fish-out-of-water crap while I play on whatever sense of adventure she has about exploring our beautiful surroundings. By this time tomorrow, I’m hoping she sees me as a budding acquaintance who may soon become a confidant.

  After a quick lunch at Zippy’s by the airport, we head to Lahaina. “This place is tourist central, being near the hotels and right on the beach. We’ll be busier as the night wears on. But you’ll have a few hours to acclimate to the bar—and sidle up to your victim.”

  “She is not the victim.” My father was, and he’s no longer here to defend himself. That’s my job.

  Ash winces, contrite. “Sorry. Bad choice of words. I meant your target.”

  “I know. I’m just…” Touchy? Nervous? No, uncomfortable.

  The truth is, I’m not loving any of this. Deception goes against my grain. I’m usually honest, even painfully blunt at times. I try to stay friendly about it, but I make my point without mincing words. Hell, I work in oil fields, so that wouldn’t fly anyway. But I can’t handle Bethany Banks as if she’s a fellow oil man. She plays cunning corporate games like an expert. The only way I’ll have a chance to beat her is to convince her I’m no threat at all.

  I try to quell my irritation. I have to do this. For myself. For my brothers. But mostly, for Dad. He deserves justice.

  When we pull up to the bar, two things hit me right away. First, despite Ash’s protests, it’s a dive. Granted, it’s a dive with charm, but the place looks as if it’s been here at least forty years, most of them without significant upgrades or improvements. Second, every single person appears to be having a great time—except the petite blonde who’s carrying a serving tray, wearing a strappy white bikini top and denim short-shorts, walking in my direction with shoulders squared and strides economical.

  Her wide-set eyes, surrounded by a thick fringe of dark lashes, hit me like a sucker punch of green. Wisps of platinum hair manage to soften the sharp angles of her face, but her full mouth pressing into a severe line shouts a silent keep-away. Her cleavage, however—which looks one-hundred-percent real—lures me closer. I can’t help but gape as, chin raised, she strides past me, heading for the bartender on duty with purpose.

  “That’s Bethany Banks?” I whisper to Ash, fighting my instant erection.

  He merely sends me an I-told-you-so grin.

  Damn. She’s fucking hot. Not just kind of. Not just a little. She’s smokin’. She’s a full-blown, five-alarm, inferno-inducing blaze. As much as I hate to acknowledge that, why lie?

  Her pictures did not do her justice. They all made her look like a corporate drone. This woman… Whoa.

  I don’t stop to consider all the reasons I shouldn’t. I turn and watch her walk away.

  The view from the back is equally stunning. Delicate strands of her pale hair tumble from a loose bun and brush her slender nape. Her intricate bikini top crisscrosses her shoulder blades and wraps around her narrow rib cage, the white fabric emphasizing the faintly peachy glow of her skin. Her hips, wrapped snugly in well-worn denim, flare below her tiny waist and sway enticingly with every step.

  “Put your tongue back in your mouth if you’re not going to seduce her,” Ash whispers in my ear.

  I rip my gaze from her to glare at him. But why bite his head off when he’s right?

  “Yeah. I just…” I blow out a breath. “You warned me.”

  “And you didn’t believe me. We need to get you laid.”

  I suspect Ash is right…but suddenly I’m wondering who the hell will divert my attention when Bethany so thoroughly snagged it. She’s the enemy…and my dick doesn’t care.

  “Why don’t you show me the ropes for now?” I suggest.

  We head to the back and meet Andy, the manager. He’s
nice enough. My guess is that he runs this bar because his real passion is surfing and this pays the bills.

  “Glad to have you on board. We always need seasonal help around the holidays, and I’m expecting New Year’s to be a zoo. How long can you stay?”

  “A couple of weeks. I’m flexible.” Not really, but I have to be.

  “Awesome. Glad you were able to start today. Terry is going home sick,” he says of the bartender on duty now. “He claims he’s getting the flu. I’m hoping he’s just hungover. I’ll let Ash give you the quick tour since you’re buddies and he’s the best.”

  “Thanks for hiring me on short notice.” I hold out my hand. “I’ll work hard.”

  And I will. I hate half-assing anything, and bartending is usually fun.

  “Holler if you have any more questions Ash can’t answer.” He nods dismissively and turns back to a stack of papers on his desk, so we head for the door. “Oh, hey. Wait.”

  We turn to face him again.

  “What’s up?” Ash asks.

  “Can one of you keep an eye on Beth? She’s getting hit on a lot, which I told her to expect. But one creepy guy who was here last night is here again today. He seems awfully determined.”

  “The one in the loud Hawaiian shirt with the matching personality?” my buddy asks.

  “That one. He parked his ass in her station as soon as we opened. He’s been messing with her ever since.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I chime in.

  First, when I bartended on the side in the past, I saw a lot of the girls struggle with dirtbags who refused to understand that no means no. Second, coming to her rescue will be a great way to meet Bethany and start gaining her trust. I refuse to think about how excited my libido is to spend time with her.

  “Thanks, Clint.”

  With that, Andy dismisses us. Ash and I file down the hall.

  My buddy laughs. “You in the role of Bethany’s protector. Oh, the irony…”

  “Hey, I’m not out to hurt her. I just want justice. I have no doubt she helped to swindle those people, so she deserves to pay as the law provides.”