Scandal on the Sand

  And now, another potential scandal that would be eaten up by the media could devour his shot at the respectability he knew the Colonel wanted to see. Unless Nate walked away quietly…but would that move make the Colonel proud? A man who put family above everything else?

  Lost in thought, he barely heard Zeke call to him. When Nate caught up with his friends, Becker was bent over, hands on his knees, a little winded but victorious. He looked up and caught his breath with a grin.

  “Must have been quite a night for you, Ivory. I’ve never seen you lose a race.”

  “Or anything,” Zeke added, eyeing him carefully. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s right is a better question. Let’s eat, and I’ll tell you.”

  A half hour later, at their favorite veranda table overlooking the beach, the three of them were still virtually alone in the beach deck of the resort restaurant. Comfortable that they had privacy, Nate told them everything and answered the questions he could.

  “I hate to say this, especially because Frankie knows this woman, but I think it’s a scam,” Becker said, leaning back on the chair’s back legs and crossing his arms. “She smells cash.”

  “But the kid looks like you?” Zeke asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Freakishly,” Nate confirmed. “And I definitely remember meeting the girl whose picture Liza showed me. And I happened to check the ship log last night, and sure enough, we were docked in Key West in April five years ago.”

  Zeke leaned forward. “If you got her pregnant in April, she’d have had a baby in January.”

  “Of course Einstein knows that,” Becker joked.

  Zeke ignored it, focused on Nate, always ready to use logic and math to solve a problem. “When’s this kid’s birthday?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s four.”

  “He would have had to have turned four last month if you have any possibility of being the father. Find out his birthday, and if the math works, get a test and…”

  “And then start writing big checks,” Becker said.

  “I told you she doesn’t want money.”

  Becker snorted.

  “Hey, Frankie didn’t want your multimillion-dollar offer for her land,” Nate shot back, not sure why he felt the need to defend Liza, but he did.

  “Because she’s a Niner in her own right,” Becker replied, referring not only to the name of their rec softball team in New York, but also the qualification to be on it: nine zeroes in each player’s net worth. “Your little friend is a secretary in the County Clerk’s office living with a kid whose alleged ‘mother’ is dead.” He air-quoted to make his point, leaning closer as he gathered steam. “And she has some notebook with a fake story in it—”

  “The beginning was true enough.”

  Becker waved that off. “Maybe she was friends with some chick you nailed five years ago, and that girl died and Liza dreamed up this whole thing. She has access to all this legal shit. She’s probably figured out a con. Hey, it happens. It happened to Frankie’s grandfather.”

  Nate had to nod. His family name was a golden ticket to some people who tried to swindle money.

  “So, what’s your plan?” Zeke asked. “How did you leave it?”

  “She gave me the kid’s DNA for testing.”

  Becker looked skyward. “It’s probably your DNA, and it will ‘mysteriously’ match.”

  “How the hell would she get my DNA?”

  “With you? It’s probably on sale on the Internet.”

  Nate fried him with a look. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

  “Sorry, but this time, I’m thinking you’re the idiot, Ivory. Sic some lawyers on her and make her go away.”

  Nate shook his head. “If my family—especially my grandfather—got wind of a paternity issue? Shit. Nothing would give him more pleasure than to add to his troops, as he likes to refer to us.”

  Zeke shrugged. “So a kid might be just the ticket to showing Grandpa just how legit you can be, right?”

  “I thought of that,” Nate admitted. “But how shitty a move would that be, on every level?”

  Becker’s shoulders moved in a silent chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” Nate demanded.

  “You with a kid. If you don’t think that’s funny, then—”

  “Shut the hell up.”

  Zeke held up a peacemaking hand. “Listen, you need a plan of attack,” he said. “A strategy to get through this.”

  “And a lawyer,” Becker added.

  “You’re right,” he agreed, more with Zeke than Becker. “First up, I have to find out more about this Carrie chick. I did try to find her after that night but only because she...” He shook his head, hating the admission. “Had a video camera.”

  Becker moaned, dropping his head into his hand in disgust. “A sex tape, Ivory? That’ll really help us get more investors for this project.”

  “It’s five years old and quite possibly—hopefully—destroyed by now. But at the time, I wanted to get it back, but I couldn’t find her or anyone who knew her. Now I have more information.”

  “So cruise down to Key West and have a look around,” Becker said. “And take your new friend with you. Keep your enemies close, I always say.”

  Nate nodded. The suggestion—even though it was Becker’s—made a lot of sense.

  “And put her on the spot, test her a little,” Zeke suggested. “Find out what she’s made of and if she’d pull a stunt like this. She says she doesn’t want money, so what does she want?”

  “I’ll tell you what you should do,” Becker said, leaning forward as if an idea had grabbed hold of him. “Offer her a job.”

  “What?” the other two men asked in unison.

  “No, I’m serious. That woman is plugged into the whole county system, and she can find her way around permits and waivers like no one else—she proved that with Frankie’s land.”

  Frankie had introduced Liza as “the great unraveler of red tape.” “We do need someone on staff who can handle that,” he agreed, considering the idea. “But why would she want a job with me? She wants me to sign some form and disappear.”

  “Just offer the job,” Becker said. “Make her an offer no normal County Clerk worker could refuse. Then you’ll see if she’s really serious about ‘making a good life’ for this kid.”

  “Damn, Becker, you took smart pills,” Nate joked.

  The other man gave a typically smart-ass Elliott Becker grin. “It’s Frankie. She brings out a whole new me.”

  “Mandy does the same thing with me,” Zeke admitted.

  Nate looked skyward. “You guys are making me sick.”

  They just laughed, but then Zeke grew serious. “What about the DNA test?” he asked. “You going to do it?”

  “I don’t know.” Truth was...the truth scared him. Absolute confirmation that he had a kid? “I have to figure it all out.”

  “Not at the expense of our stadium and team, I hope,” Becker said. “Make sure your focus is where it should be: on the Barefoot Bay Bucks. We have a lot riding on this project, and we really need to rally some more investors.”

  “I know. I’ll figure it all out.”

  “You will,” Zeke said as they all stood to end breakfast. “Don’t forget to—”

  Something bright green whizzed by and slammed into Zeke’s chest, shutting them all up as a Frisbee clattered to the table. They reacted with surprised laughs and turned at the sound of loud, fast footsteps. Two sets, in fact, both quite small. Two children approached, a tiny blond girl with her hand over her mouth and a matching tow-headed boy.

  “Sorry,” he said. “My sister…” He shook his head. “She didn’t mean it. We’re going to the beach, and she got excited.”

  He had to have been just about the same age as Dylan, Nate thought. “No problem, kiddo.” Nate picked up the Frisbee and easily lobbed it to the boy, getting a grin when he clapped his hands over it and caught it.

  “Emma! Edward!” A tall man in a whit
e chef’s coat came marching into the sunshine, a scowl on his face. “Don’t bother the customers, you two. So sorry, gentlemen.”

  “No worries,” Nate said. “We were just headed out.” He took a step closer, sizing up the two of them. “Twins?” he asked.

  “I’m older by a minute,” Edward said, making them all laugh.

  The chef extended his hand to Nate. “I’m Chef Ian Browning, by the way. I know Mr. Nicholas and Mr. Becker, but don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Nathaniel Ivory.” He wasn’t used to introducing himself, since most people recognized him, but this man was obviously British and probably didn’t read the tabloids much. “Cute kids,” he added.

  “Thanks.” He reached the kids and put protective and proud hands on their shoulders. For a flash of an instant, Nate imagined what that would feel like. “The children’s program doesn’t start until nine, and my wife had to go over to the mainland,” the chef said. “So, you’re with the new baseball business, too? Everyone in my kitchen is talking about—Edward!”

  The boy went zooming out of his father’s grasp, followed by his sister.

  “We’re going to the beach!” she called out, her shyness gone as the two tore down the stairs to the sand.

  “Wait!” The chef darted after them, throwing the men an exasperated smile as he chased his kids.

  “Got your hands full, huh?” Nate asked as the man zipped by.

  “And another on the way, mate.” He disappeared onto the sand, leaving the three of them sharing a look.

  “You ready for that?” Zeke asked wryly.

  “Hell no.”

  “So be careful what you wish for...mate.” Becker added the chef’s English accent and grinned at Nate. “You just might find it.”

  Chapter Four

  “Car, Aunt Liza? Now? N-O-W C-A-R!”

  Liza tucked the dishtowel on the oven handle and smiled down at Dylan, her heart doing a little flip when she looked into his eyes—the very shade of tawny oak that had been haunting her every thought since the day before. Nate and Dylan did look so much alike. That fact was even more undeniable now that she’d seen Nate Ivory in person. Twenty-five years apart in age, but something in the eyes, the jaw, even the expression...had to be hereditary and not coincidence.

  “Please?” Dylan dragged the word out, then frowned, no doubt wondering whether he could spell that one. “Now?”

  “Yes. N-O-W.” She nudged him to the kitchen door with one hand on his back, pausing at the dining room to call out, “Mom, I’m going to be in the driveway with Dylan!”

  The announcement was a courtesy, but it didn’t take away the fact that Liza still reported to her mom—thanks to the circumstances of her life—and she didn’t like it.

  After they unplugged the charger and maneuvered the bright red Power Wheels car into the driveway, Liza situated herself on the lawn where she could have an unobstructed view of the driveway, the street, and Dylan in his new toy.

  “Do not go close to the street, Dylan,” she warned as he climbed behind the wheel, his face bright in anticipation.

  Mom had gotten him the Lightning McQueen electric car this past Christmas, and he lived for the chance to drive it, back and forth, in the semicircle driveway. That chance was usually the weekends, when Liza wasn’t working. Mom watched him a few days, when she didn’t have club meetings, lunches, tennis, or golf. Mostly, he was in day care, so Liza tried to spend every minute with him on the weekends.

  “Here I go!” He gave it a little gas and started his circuit, waving each time he passed her.

  She waved back, then leaned on her hands to look around the pristine neighborhood. Trimmed hibiscus, manicured emerald lawns, and rows of Queen palms lined the grid of streets that made up a painfully planned community full of pink and beige houses, all topped with the same barrel tile roof.

  The sound of a car engine—a real one—made her open her eyes to check how close Dylan was to the street. Very.

  “Careful,” she called, though he was usually good about minding.

  He stopped his little car suddenly, at the curb, and stood slowly. “C-A-R!”

  “Yes, it’s a car.” She squinted into the sunshine, seeing a silver vehicle slowing as it approached her house. That was unusual in Blue Landing. Most of the retirees and snowbirds who populated the expensive development didn’t even remember what it was like to have kids playing in the street. Living here was a great financial solution, and having her mother as a back-up for Dylan was convenient, but it sure wasn’t the kid-friendly neighborhood she wanted.

  Still, this driver was far more aware than most, slowing at her driveway.

  “Wow!” Dylan slowly climbed out of his car, staring at the vehicle like it was a UFO. It was…different.

  No, it was the sleek, space-age car she’d ridden in yesterday to the harbor. There couldn’t be two cars that looked as if they’d been dipped in platinum and cost a million bucks.

  Damn it all. He’d found her. Worse, he’d found Dylan, who walked toward the car parked in front of her mailbox.

  Nate emerged like a god stepping out of his chariot, his hair streaked bronze in the sunlight, a loose white linen shirt accentuating his size and breadth.

  Liza stood as dumbstruck as Dylan, her heart lodged firmly in her throat, denying her any chance to talk or breathe or demand to know what the hell he was doing here. But why bother asking that? She knew.

  In two steps, she was behind Dylan, reaching a protective hand for his shoulder, but he shot away, running to the car.

  “Car! Car! C-A-R.”

  A slow smile spread across Nate’s face as he slipped off his sunglasses to get a better look. “You like it?” he asked Dylan.

  “So pretty!”

  Nate laughed, a low rumble of amusement that reached Liza’s ears like a screaming alarm. He was already in love with Dylan, who, oblivious to any drama about to unfold, ran to the car and slapped his two hands on the curved spoiler in the back with a loud thwack. “Wow!”

  Finally, Nate looked over to Liza, who had managed to swallow, find a shred of composure, and get to the end of the driveway.

  “Hey,” he said, the single word so simple and sexy and intrusive and intimate, she almost reeled.

  Hey. Hey? Like it was no big deal that he’d hunted her down and come to her home and invaded her world uninvited?

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Aunt Liza!” Dylan answered for him. “Look!”

  “I am looking,” she said, her gaze flat on the car’s owner and not the object of Dylan’s fascination. “How did you find me?”

  “Your address was on the paperwork you left.” He turned his attention to Dylan, while Liza mentally kicked herself for the oversight. “You like cars, son?” he asked.

  Son? Already? She must have choked a little, because Dylan turned to look at her, his eyes bright and his smile loopy.

  “I love cars,” he said.

  So not fair. She’d told him that already. So, of course, he shows up in his one-of-a-kind classic something that someone with a Y chromosome could smell as special from a mile away.

  “Well, maybe you can drive this one,” Nate said to him.

  This time, she choked loud and hard and purposefully. “Excuse me,” she said, lifting her chin and refusing to be the least bit distracted or deterred by his size and looks and overall hunkiness. “He’s four and he can’t drive.”

  “I see that.” He angled his head. “But he likes cars.”

  Didn’t he see that kind of ridiculous logic was why she was trying to keep Dylan from him? What else would he let a child do? “If you suggest my little boy drive a…whatever that is—”

  “Aston Martin. I usually have one shipped to me when I’m staying somewhere more than a few weeks.”

  She closed her eyes, just letting that simple statement sum up everything about Nate Ivory. He had an Aston Martin shipped to him when he stayed somewhere.

  “How is that even normal?”


  He laughed at the question and jutted his chin to Dylan, who was prancing around the car, leaving smear prints on every window as he tried to see in. “He thinks it’s normal. Will you, uh, introduce us?”

  She considered refusing the request. She could. She was Dylan’s legal guardian and, as such, she could determine who even talked to him, but… No, she wasn’t that scared of Nate Ivory. And not that cruel. Plus, Dylan would have a full-out meltdown if that car suddenly disappeared.

  “Dylan, honey, come here.”

  He slowly lifted his little face from the driver’s window, where he’d been pressing so hard he probably had licked the glass by now.

  “Come and meet Mr. Ivory.”

  Nate shot her a look. “You can call me Nate,” he corrected as Dylan came forward. Nate crouched down to his size. “If you give me knuckles.”

  He held out his fist, and Dylan knew exactly what to do. The fist-bump came with that sweet smile and childish giggle. “Who are you?”

  And that pure and honest curiosity.

  “I’m…” He struggled with the word, and every cell in Liza’s body seized up in fear of what he’d say next. She couldn’t talk or jump in or even move as time stood still and she waited for…your father. “I’m a friend of your Aunt Liza’s.”

  She let out an audible breath, and he stood slowly, his expression saying what his mouth wasn’t. Don’t worry.

  But she was worried. How could she not? “So you just, what, decided to cruise into Blue Landing for fun today?”

  He looked around. “I could tell you’re conservative, Liza, but I wouldn’t have put you quite in the middle of Disney World.”

  “We’re living with my mother right now,” she said. “We’ve been staying here for a year.” Did she have to explain her personal situation to him? Well, he was Dylan’s father. “My mom lived alone in this big house and so, well, you know what they say.”

  “There’s no place like home with your mother?” he suggested with a teasing smile.