“Haven’t you heard? Money can’t buy happiness.”
“And are you unhappy, Miss—?”
The elevator stopped at the sixth floor.
“Ms. Perkins,” she told him as the door opened. “Audrey Perkins. And right this minute, I’m quite happy.”
Using his body as a wedge, Dom held the elevator door open until she exited; then, with shopping bags in hand, he followed her down the corridor.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she paused for a moment and asked, “Are you going to tell me who you are?”
He grinned. “Sure thing. I’m Domingo Shea.”
Audrey nodded, then continued down the hall until she reached the double doors that opened into a suite. “Here we are.” She rummaged in the pocket of her tailored beige slacks and retrieved a plastic entry key. After shoving the handle on one bag farther up her right wrist, she slid the key through the lock, opened the door and entered the suite. When Dom followed, she dumped her bags on the floor, and then turned and blocked his entrance.
He paused, offered her his most persuasive smile and inquired, “Not going to let me come in?”
She shook her head and held out her hands. “Thanks for your help. I can take those now.”
“You’re a mighty suspicious lady, aren’t you?”
She took the shopping bags from Dom, but didn’t close the door in his face, which he’d halfway expected. “Look, Mr. Shea, if you must know, I find you terribly attractive, but I’m not in the market for a one-night stand and I’m not—”
“How about dinner? No strings attached. No expectations.”
She eyed him speculatively, a hint of curiosity in those remarkable green eyes. “Just dinner?”
“I can come back at eight and escort you or we can meet at the restaurant, whichever you feel more comfortable doing. I assume they have a nice restaurant here in the hotel.”
“The Flamingo Room.”
“So, is it a date?”
She hesitated.
He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the door-frame on either side of her and looked right at her. “Why not share a meal and get better acquainted?”
“Just dinner,” she told him.
“Just dinner.”
“You make the reservations and I’ll meet you downstairs at eight.”
He grinned broadly, then turned around and whistled to himself as he headed toward the elevator.
Maybe he should have simply told Ms. Perkins that he was a PI sent by her father and husband to bring her home. But if she put up a fuss and refused to return to Chattanooga, all he could do was call her father and tell him where she was. By the time the old man could get to Palm Beach, his darling daughter could well be on her way to Timbuktu. And he could hardly pick her up, kicking and screaming, then carry her down the hall, into the elevator and through the hotel lobby. She was, after all, over eighteen and had a legal right to go wherever she wanted to go, with or without her daddy’s approval.
No, the best thing to do was wine and dine her first, then maybe take her on a moonlit stroll along the beach before presenting her with two alternatives. One: she went with him willingly to the airport and flew back to Chattanooga on the Dundee jet. Two: She telephoned her father and assured him she was well and happy and did not want to return home.
DOM HAD EXPECTED to be kept waiting at least half an hour, so when Audrey showed up promptly at eight, he was pleasantly surprised. Once again, the very sight of her stirred something sexual and predatory within him, something he wanted to deny, but couldn’t. She was so completely feminine that on a primeval level she appealed to all that was masculine in him.
If every man she met reacted to her the way he did, he could see how easily Audrey could lure men into her snare. He had to remind himself that she was not what she appeared to be. Behind all that beauty lay the ugliness of self-centeredness and betrayal.
When the maître d’approached them, Dom took her arm and draped it over his.
“You look lovely.”
That statement was no lie. She did look lovely. The bronze silk dress she wore made her fair skin radiant and her reddish blond hair shimmer with copper highlights.
Audrey didn’t reply. Instead she offered him a fragile smile that implied she was pleased with his compliment.
Once seated across the small, linen-covered table in a secluded corner of the dimly lit restaurant, Audrey lifted her gaze and looked directly at him. “Do you make a habit of picking up women in elevators?”
“Actually, you’re the first.”
“Am I?”
“You find that difficult to believe?”
She shrugged.
Why was she so leery of him? She had no idea he was a PI hired to track her down. He suspected that her distrust extended to all men, perhaps to people in general. Had she spent a lifetime trying to figure out who liked her for herself and who liked her because she was a wealthy heiress?
Don’t go making her into a victim, Dom warned himself. Audrey Bedell Perkins was a user, a taker, a woman who’d been unfaithful to her husband most of their six-year marriage.
After they ordered dinner and sat together sipping the merlot, Dom broke the silence with a risky question. “Your name seems familiar,” he said. “Your accent is decidedly Southern, but not deep South.”
She visibly tensed. “I’m from Tennessee.”
“Tennessee, huh? I live in Atlanta. Could I have seen your picture in the newspaper or read something about you in the society columns?”
She took a deep breath, forced a smile and replied. “I’m Audrey Bedell Perkins. It’s possible you’ve heard of my father.”
“You’re Edward Bedell’s daughter, aren’t you? Of course, you are. I wouldn’t have recognized you from the newspaper photographs I’ve seen. You’re far prettier in person.”
Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “Thank you.”
“If I remember correctly, you’re married, aren’t you?”
Nodding shyly, she set her wineglass down on the table and folded her hands in her lap. “Yes, I—I’m married.”
“And your husband isn’t here in Palm Beach with you?”
“No, he isn’t.”
“Are you traveling alone?”
“Why so many questions, Mr. Shea? You aren’t a reporter, are you?”
Dom laughed. “Good God, no. I’m a businessman. And as for all the questions, let’s just say that I find you fascinating.”
“Do you find me fascinating or do you find the fact that I’m a wealthy heiress fascinating?”
“I suppose you want me to tell you the truth.”
“Yes.”
“Then the answer is both. If you didn’t have a dime to your name, I’d find you very interesting, but the fact that you’re Edward Bedell’s daughter simply makes you all the more intriguing.”
“I appreciate your honesty. It’s a rare quality these days.”
The waiter set their salads in front of them. Dom lifted his fork, then asked, “Will you answer a question for me and answer honestly?”
She scrutinized his face, as if hoping she could figure out just what he was getting at. “I’ll try.”
“Are you in the habit of accepting dinner invitations from every man who finds you fascinating?”
She studied him for a moment longer, then replied, “You’re referring to the fact that I’m a married woman, aren’t you? Would you be shocked if I admitted that I don’t feel very married, that you make me wish I wasn’t married.”
The knot in Dom’s stomach tightened. Shit! She was good. Damn good. She was playing him like a fiddle. How many times had she used that line on a guy? If he didn’t know her for what she was, he’d take her straight from dinner this evening to bed. And he’d keep her there all night and maybe all day tomorrow.
He reached across the table and grasped her hand. “I usually steer clear of married women, but in your case, I could make an exception. Of course, I wouldn’t want your husband or perha
ps a jealous boyfriend to—”
“My husband is in Chattanooga,” she said. “We—we’re sort of separated. And there is no jealous boyfriend.”
So, Audrey hadn’t run off with Bobby Jack Cash or if she had, she’d dumped him somewhere along the way. Her being alone should make things easier. After dinner, he’d suggest a stroll along the beach and then he’d tell her who he was and ask her to return to Chattanooga with him tonight. If she refused, the best he could do was either persuade her to call her father to set his mind at ease or call the old man himself.
Of course, there was a third option. He could simply throw her over his shoulder, shove her into his car and take her to the airport. Maybe an evening drive might be a better idea than a walk along the beach. He could wait until she realized he’d driven her to the airport before confessing he was a hired gun. If she refused to go with him, he could carry her aboard the Dundee jet and strap her into a seat before she realized what had hit her.
But technically that would be kidnapping. Then again, it would be her word against his.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
He squeezed her hand. “I was just thinking about how I’d like this evening to end.”
She jerked her hand away. “No expectations. You promised.”
He held up both hands in an I surrender gesture. “A guy can dream, can’t he?”
“All I agreed to was dinner.”
“What about a ride around town after dinner? I’ve heard there are some hot clubs—”
“I’m not into hot clubs.”
“Then how about a walk on the beach?”
She sighed. “Maybe.”
Her reply was good enough for him. She wasn’t the only expert at playing games. He had sweet talked his way into more than one woman’s silk panties over the years.
Yeah, but he wasn’t trying to get into Audrey Bedell Perkins’s panties. His assignment was to track her down and take her home. Home to her worried father.
Home to her husband.
But if the lady didn’t want to go home…
CHAPTER THREE
DOM EXCUSED HIMSELF BEFORE dessert arrived and headed for the men’s room. Instead of going inside, he found a dimly lit corner and, using his cell phone, dialed the Bedell residence. He needed to speak to the old man himself and find out how to proceed with this investigation.
Surprisingly enough, Edward Bedell answered the call. “Have you found my daughter?”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
Silence.
“She seems quite well and happy,” Dom said. Beautiful, desirable, intriguing.
“Are you sure it’s Audrey?”
“Yes, sir. Reasonably sure. She claims to be Audrey Perkins, is registered at the hotel under that name and is using your daughter’s credit cards.”
“And you’ve compared her to the photograph I gave you of my daughter?”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
“And?”
“Mr. Bedell, do you have any reason to believe that this young woman isn’t your daughter?”
“No, no, of course not. It’s just that since she disappeared the way she did, I’ve had all kinds of horrible thoughts about her being kidnapped, murdered. I suppose for just a few seconds there, I let my imagination run wild.”
“Yes, sir, I understand.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s staying at the Classico Hotel in West Palm Beach, Florida.”
“Is she with that man?”
“Bobby Jack Cash? No, sir. Ms. Perkins appears to be traveling alone.”
“Thank God.”
“Mr. Bedell, how do you want me to handle this situation? Do you want me to bring your daughter back to Chattanooga? If so, since she’s an adult, that will require her—”
“No, there’s no need to bring her home. Apparently she had her reasons for leaving. My guess is her bad marriage. She and Gray haven’t had a real marriage in years.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m grateful that you found her so quickly. She’s always been a strong-willed person, even as a child. She’ll do whatever she wants to do and to hell with…” Bedell paused. “Please tell her that if she needs anything, wants anything…” His voice trailed off, ending on a deep sigh.
“Would you like for me to ask Ms. Perkins to call you?”
“Yes, certainly. But it doesn’t have to be tonight. Just whenever she’s ready to talk.”
“All right.” Was that it? Goal accomplished. Assignment completed. “Once I deliver your message to your daughter, am I to consider this job finished?”
“Yes, yes. And it was a job well done, Mr. Shea. Thank you. You can return to Atlanta tonight if you wish.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dom closed his cell phone and clipped it to his belt. This had to have been the quickest, easiest job he’d ever done for Dundee’s. In less than twelve hours, he’d found the missing heiress and set her family’s minds at ease. So, why was it that he felt something wasn’t quite right, that there was more to this situation than met the eye?
What difference does it make? he asked himself. He’d done the job he’d been hired to do. The client was satisfied. Dundee’s would get a hefty check and Sawyer McNamara would be pleased that Edward Bedell was pleased.
On his way back to the table where Audrey Perkins waited, Dom considered his own options. If he was a smart man, he’d eat dessert and escort Ms. Perkins to her suite, say goodnight and goodbye. On the other hand, now that he wasn’t on the job, he was free to pursue his personal interest in the lady. And God help him, he was interested. But he would be a fool to become involved with a married woman, a woman known for her extra marital affairs.
Would a one-night-stand be considered becoming involved?
When Dom sat down across from Audrey, she smiled. “I’ve been dying to dive into this cheesecake, but I waited for you so we can savor every bite together.”
They had ordered one slice of cheesecake to share. Audrey had bemoaned the fact that if she ate the entire slice herself, she’d put on a couple of pounds overnight.
Dom picked up his fork, sliced into the rich, luscious dessert, and instead of taking the delectable morsel to his mouth, he reached across and aimed it at Audrey’s mouth. Her eyes widened, then she opened her mouth. When Dom inserted the bite, she nipped it off his fork, rolled it around over her tongue and sighed.
“Sheer heaven,” she said.
“Are all your appetites that easily appeased?” he asked.
Her big green eyes widened even more, her expression one of amused surprise.
“Are you propositioning me, Mr. Shea?”
“Could be.”
She laughed, the sound mellow and soft, and somewhat tentative, as if she didn’t laugh all that often.
“What about our agreement?” She glanced down at the cheesecake. “Let’s eat dessert and take that stroll on the beach, then see what happens.”
Smiling, Dom sliced off another bite and once again fed her. He watched the way her mouth opened, the soft fullness of her lips, the curve of her small, pink tongue.
He was getting hard just watching her eat.
Ten minutes later, dessert plate wiped clean and the check paid, Dom escorted Audrey through the restaurant, into the hotel lobby and toward the front entrance. Once outside, they headed straight for the adjacent beach. The Classico Hotel faced the Atlantic Ocean. Lights from the nearby buildings illuminated the path to the beach. Overhead a three-quarter moon and countless stars brightened the black sky.
Dom eased his arm around her waist as they neared the long stretch of sand.
“Want to take off your heels?” he asked.
She nodded, then clamped her left hand on his shoulder as she used her right hand to remove first one high heel and then the other. Dom took the sleek little bronze leather sandals from her and slipped the straps onto his index finger.
“Are you chilly?” he asked.
“If you are, I can take off my jacket and—”
“You play the gentleman quite well,” she told him.
“It’s not an act. I actually can be a gentleman when the occasion—or the woman—calls for it.”
“A charming gentleman.” Audrey turned and took several steps away from him.
He followed her, draped his arm around her shoulders and fell into step alongside her. They walked together in silence for quite some time, occasionally glancing at each other and smiling. Dom couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman so much.
“MR. SHEA HAS FOUND Audrey,” Edward Bedell said to those congregated in his study.
“When?” Cara asked.
“Where is she?” Patrice Bedell glared at her husband.
“Is she with him?” Tears misted Grayson Perkins’s eyes.
“Not a one of you asked if she’s all right.” Edward clenched his teeth. Damn the whole bunch of them. They didn’t love Audrey, didn’t care if she was dead or alive. No one loved Audrey the way he did, no one understood her the way he did. Emotion welled up inside him, threatening his composure. He took several deep breaths.
“Of course she’s all right,” Patrice said. “I knew she’d just run off somewhere with Bobby Jack.”
“She’s not with that vile man,” Edward said. “Mr. Shea says that she is quite alone, that she seems well and…happy.”
“Why shouldn’t she be happy? She’s spending your money and living the high life.” When Patrice’s gaze connected with Edward’s, she shrank away from him, as if she feared he might hit her again.
“Where is she?” Cara repeated her original question.
“West Palm Beach.” Edward rose from his leather chair behind the massive desk. “I asked Mr. Shea to tell her to call me, to let me hear her voice.”
“How did he find her so quickly?” Grayson asked.
“The Dundee agency was able to track her through her credit card use,” Edward said.
“What hotel? I want to fly down there immediately and bring her home.” Grayson confronted his father-in law, a determined expression on his handsome face.
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