Scandal on the Sand

  His eyes widened. “Seriously? How much?”

  She gave him a tight, professional smile. “Most people usually ask the name of the deceased.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He brushed back some hair. “Who croaked? Aunt Thelma from...I don’t know where the hell Collier County is.”

  “The woman’s name was...” She took a chance. “Bailey Banks.”

  His jaw unhinged, color draining from his face. “She’s dead?”

  At least there was a hint of remorse in his tone, but if this was going to work, there had to be none in hers. “I’m afraid so, and her estate attorney is trying to locate all of the beneficiaries to get copies of the will, but you—”

  “How did she die?”

  No emotion, Liza. None. “I believe it was a car accident. And it was instant.” Oh, why did she add that? A county courier wouldn’t know that. “Anyway, I have a few questions for you, and then we’ll get the paperwork mailed out.”

  He looked at her, but she could tell he was thinking about Carrie—Bailey—and not her questions. Which made it a good time to ask them.

  “Can you confirm the date she left Key West?”

  He frowned, pulled back to the moment, maybe not smart enough to wonder why that question would matter to an estate attorney. She hoped.

  “Um, I’d have to check something—no, no. Of course I know. It was my birthday, well the day after. We’d had a party, and shit got pretty real, you know, and she didn’t like it. She just...took off.”

  “And that day was...”

  “June 13, however many years ago. Four? Five? I guess five years ago.”

  Exactly the week Carrie had come into the County Clerk’s office. They’d always celebrated June 20 as their “friend anniversary.” She tilted her chin up, willing herself not to show any reaction.

  “And she was alone when she left?”

  “Yeah, as far as I...well, yeah. Sort of.” He looked away for a second, his wiry frame tense.

  “Mr. Munson? Was she alone?”

  He blew out a breath. “More or less.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, listen...” He threaded his fingers though his hair, then kept his palm on his unshaved face, rubbing it while he looked at her. “Does that will really call her Bailey Banks?”

  The way he asked the question made perfect sense if he knew her real name. And Liza had seen her Social Security card. She knew her friend’s legal name. “Actually, that’s what we call an aka. Her legal name was Careen Cassidy, but they are one and the same.”

  He nodded, all doubt erased from his features as if she’d given him a verbal password and could be trusted. “Yeah, she liked to use that Bailey name. She thought it sounded prettier or...” He shook his head slowly as the facts hit him. “But, wow, so she died. Man, that’s sad.”

  “Very.”

  “Did she, um, have any other beneficiaries in that will?”

  Just Dylan, her son. She hedged her bets with a nonanswer. “Her parents passed away.”

  “I know that. I went to their funeral.”

  Did he? Because Carrie’s journal said Nate had accompanied her there. Oh, Carrie, why did you leave behind this mess? Why couldn’t you tell me the truth? “Then who do you mean?”

  “Like, did she have any...a kid?” He croaked the last word.

  “I’m not at liberty to say, Mr. Munson. Why do you need to know?”

  “Because...” Another puff of air, this one loud and slow. “‘Cause when she left...” He looked to the side, embarrassed. “She was pregnant.”

  Here we go. She took a wee breath of fortitude and looked him straight in the eye. “Are you the father?” she asked bluntly, willing every muscle in her face to stay in the act of impartial third party and not someone who loved that child with her whole heart.

  “Well, technically, yeah, but...”

  “Technically? You are or you aren’t, sir.” Her heart punched her ribs so hard it had to be leaving bruises.

  “Would it change me getting any money?” he asked. “I mean, I hate to be crass and all, but we did some...you know...paperwork.”

  A slow heat rose up from her belly, threatening her stability. “What kind of paperwork, Mr. Munson?”

  “I signed a piece of paper. Something called a terminal...rights termination or—”

  “Termination of Parental Rights?”

  “You know what that is?”

  “I do.” He’d signed a TPR already? “And if you could just show me a copy of that paper, Mr. Munson, and your legal ID, then I can”—adopt Dylan—”get on my way. Do you have it?”

  “Somewhere. How much money do I get?”

  Nothing. “As a courier, I’m not given that information, but an attorney will contact you after I get a picture of that form. Can I see it?” Please, please.

  “Yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec.” He turned and walked a few feet to the door of unit five. “Just wait out here. The place is a hellhole.”

  “Okay.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the railing, looking out to the courtyard and fountain below. All the while, she willed her heart rate to slow and the questions to stop. She had plenty of time to ask questions...like why? Why had Carrie worried about his father, or his father’s “powerful family,” taking Dylan if she’d already had that signed paper? Carrie had known who the father was all along, but...why was she scared of “his family” coming to take him?

  “Beneficiary of a will?” The whisper made her gasp and step back to see Nate hiding around the corner. “That’s good, Wonder Woman.”

  “What are you doing here?” she mouthed.

  “He’s the father?” He sounded purely disgusted.

  Liza felt the same way but couldn’t deal with those thoughts right now. She had to get that paper.

  “I guess I’ll know in a minute. Get out of here.”

  The door clicked, and she flashed a look at Nate and used her fingers to zip her mouth in warning. When she turned, she saw Jeff coming down the hall holding a legal-size document.

  She hustled forward to meet him, praying Nate stayed out of sight.

  “I can’t believe I found this, but here you go.”

  Forcing her hand to be steady, she reached for the document, recognizing it instantly, along with the authentic seal of the State of Florida. She touched legal papers like this a hundred times a week and knew this was the real deal.

  The signed real deal.

  “Hang on,” she said, grabbing her phone. Aware of his gaze on her, she channeled her inner professional. “If you’ll just hold that for me so I can get a picture, Mr. Munson, I’ll be on my way.”

  “I signed it because I was pissed at her,” he mumbled.

  She clicked a photo of the signatures on the top page, not answering.

  “But I still, you know, cared about her.”

  She snapped the midsection full of legalese, the most important part. “I’m sure you did, Mr. Munson.”

  “She was just so messed up, living in a dream world half the time, writing these ridiculous stories about meeting movie stars and shit.” His voice rose with frustration. “It was so stupid. She thought she was going to be some kind of famous author, and she made up these stories. Once she even...”

  She lowered the camera and met his gaze. “Once she even what?”

  “She liked to make up stuff that would make me jealous. And when that didn’t work, then she’d...do stuff to make me jealous.”

  Like sleep with famous billionaires in limousines. “Such as?” she prodded, hoping he didn’t realize that no one in her position would ever ask that question.

  “She cheated on me,” he said gruffly. “And made sure I knew it.”

  She had to ask. Had to. “Then how are you absolutely certain this child”—she tapped the paper he held—”is really yours?”

  “Oh, I’m certain of that,” he said.

  “How?”

  He snorted. “You think I’d sign a paper without knowing?” br />
  She gave him another quick, professional smile and tucked her phone away. “Well, thank you, Mr. Munson.”

  “So, you sure you don’t know how much I get?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” She took a step back, ready to end the conversation, but he came with her.

  “Wanna have a drink to celebrate?”

  “Celebrate?” Was he serious? “A woman is dead. A woman who you say was the mother of your child. What’s to celebrate?”

  All that doubt came back into his eyes as they narrowed at her. “Who the hell did you say you were again? What’s your name?” Doubt shifted to something more menacing.

  “My name—”

  “Give me your card.” He came too close, right in her face, forcing her back. He didn’t stop, inches from her now, slowly lifting a hand as if he was going to grab her.

  “I told you I’m with the county.”

  “Where’s this will? Where’s your proof?” He slammed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “Who are you, lady?”

  “I’m with the—”

  “Back off!” Nate shot forward from around the corner, reaching the man in three long strides, shoving him off Liza. “Get away from her.”

  The legal document fluttered into the air.

  Jeff’s eyes flashed, fear for a second, then anger. “What the hell is going on here? Who are you?”

  “Just leave her alone or—”

  “You can’t have that picture.” Jeff lunged at Liza. “Gimme your phone!”

  Nate knocked him away, but Jeff reached out and got in a swing. He missed the punch, but rocked Nate’s sunglasses halfway over his face and flipped his baseball cap off his head.

  “Nate!” Liza shrieked.

  Stumbling backward, Jeff sputtered in shock, his long hair caught between his lips.

  “Let’s go, Liza,” Nate said, scooping up his hat but keeping his eyes on Jeff.

  The other man stared at him, chest heaving, eyes squinting. “Wait a second.”

  Nate pulled Liza closer. “Let’s go.”

  With no hesitation, he guided her away, fast, almost running, but Jeff flew forward again, throwing his whole body on Nate to try to pull him to the ground. Nate swung around to shake him off, but the guy gave a fight.

  Liza stepped back, hands to her mouth, watching in horror as Nate lifted the smaller man off him and slammed him against the wall.

  “Don’t make me hurt you.” Nate ground out the words, lifting the other man a few inches off the ground.

  “I know you!” Jeff’s face was red, his eyes furious as he stared at Nate. “You’re in the tape! You’re the one! You’re the guy Bailey fu—”

  “Shut up.” Nate shook him, veins popping in his neck with the effort to hold the guy still.

  “No,” he said. “No, I won’t shut up. I know everything. I know everything.”

  Very slowly, Nate released his grip on the guy’s shoulders, taking one step backward. “Leave us alone,” he said. “We don’t have any more business here.”

  “I got shit on you, man. I got shit.” His feet hit the floor, but Jeff shook his head with an ugly smile. “I could do some damage, too.”

  Nate held out his hands in something remotely resembling a truce. “Just let it go, pal. No harm, no foul.”

  “Or you could give me some cash for my trouble.”

  Nate’s whole body visibly bristled. “Shut up.”

  “I can.” He brushed his T-shirt, confidence building again. “For a fee.”

  Nate leaned right back into his face. “What part of ‘shut up’ don’t you understand?”

  He shrugged. “Say, ten grand.”

  Nate puffed a breath of pure repugnance, stepping farther away. “Scum.”

  “What did you call me?”

  Liza and Nate shared a look and silent agreement. Wordlessly, they started walking.

  “What did you call me, you dickhead?”

  “Just keep going,” Nate whispered under his breath, a hand on her back to usher her forward.

  “‘Cause I can make your life a living hell!”

  “Move,” he ordered, nearly breaking into a jog just as Jeff fired his parting shot.

  “You’ll pay, motherfucker! You will pay for what you did to me!”

  Chapter Nine

  Liza didn’t breathe easy until Nate snagged them a cab and they were finally off the streets of Key West, headed back to the yacht. But as the taxi made its way through a warren of palm-lined streets with pastel houses and coconut palms, Nate stayed stone silent.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to break the uncomfortable quiet.

  He didn’t answer, his jaw clenched as he stared out the window.

  “I feel like now I have what I want”—she patted her phone, safely tucked into her bag—”and you have a big fat problem.”

  He still didn’t reply, making her heart sink.

  “And I’m still in shock that I could be such a poor judge of character, because Carrie fooled me. I mean, she did have a great imagination. I used to laugh at the bedtime stories she made up for Dylan...”

  He swallowed, visibly fighting some inner demons.

  Liza took a chance and put her hand on his thigh. “I wish you’d talk to me.”

  When he turned, the fury and frustration in his eyes were clear. “If he has that tape, he’ll release it now.”

  “You can’t be sure of that. First of all, that’s a big if from five years ago. Second, what does he have to gain?”

  He snorted. “Revenge.”

  “If he wanted revenge on you for sleeping with his girlfriend, he’d have sold that tape years ago.”

  “We stirred a hornet’s nest.”

  And Nate got stung. “Will it make you feel better if I say I’ll take the job?”

  He almost smiled. “Yeah. We’re a good team.”

  “I outsmart them and then you beat the crap out of them?”

  “I didn’t beat the crap out of him,” he said with a dry laugh, the first in hours. “I could have. Should have. You did outsmart him, though, with the whole beneficiary of the will thing.” He put his hand over hers, the tender touch surprising her. “I’m glad you have what you wanted from the very beginning.”

  She studied the angles of his jaw and strong cheekbones, the warmth in his eyes, and the softness of his mouth. Without consciously thinking about it, she inched slightly closer. “The cost was high.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t pay him.”

  “What if there’s a sex tape released? Isn’t that exactly the kind of thing you’re trying to get away from? Won’t that set you back with your family, and your grandfather, the Colonel?”

  “He won’t like it,” he acknowledged, his tone showing just how much of an understatement that was. “And it won’t help the image of the new baseball team, especially now when we’re still looking for investors so we don’t have to sink so much of our money into it. Yeah, it would suck all around. Especially if it somehow has Dylan’s name attached to it.”

  “I doubt it will, but I appreciate you thinking about that aspect.” She lifted their joined hands, surprising both of them by bringing his knuckles to her lips. “And fighting to protect me.”

  He turned his hand so he could cup her jaw. “You’re worth protecting.” He rubbed his thumb lightly, grazing her skin. “And I’m reminded once again how little I’m worth.”

  She rolled her eyes, giving her head a shake of disbelief.

  “And I don’t mean money,” he said. “Just the shit that is my past.”

  “At the risk of sounding like a page from a self-help book, Nate, you are not the sum total of your past. People change. Look at Carrie. Whatever she was in Key West, she showed up in my office contrite and reformed. I loved her for what I thought she was. Finding out that she had a messy past and a nasty boyfriend and a weakness for rich playboys doesn’t make me love her less. She changed.”

  “I bet you helped her and didn’t even realize it.”

&n
bsp; The compliment, even in the face of the other sweet things he was saying, squeezed a band around her chest. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I wish she hadn’t felt it necessary to lie to me.”

  “Maybe she thought you’d judge her. I know I...” His voice trailed off.

  “You know you what?”

  He smiled, finally releasing her jaw but still holding her hand. “When I come face to face with someone like you, it’s humbling.”

  Was he serious? “Nate, I am the most unremarkable person alive. I work in the County Clerk’s office. I live with my mom. I drive a Ford Focus with sixty thousand miles on it. The last thing I am is humbling to a..a...” Did she have to say it again? He was a gorgeous, famous billionaire. “A person like you.”

  “You should see yourself the way I see you.” He searched her eyes, as close as he could get without kissing her. “You’re resourceful. You’re caring. You’re beautiful. You’re...damn.”

  Damn? Damn what? She waited, but the list had come to an end. “Um, don’t stop now.”

  He smiled and gently brought his mouth to hers, the first contact featherlight, almost making her shudder at the sweetness of it.

  He sighed into the kiss, adding some pressure but still showing incredible restraint.

  “Bottom line, Liza.” He broke the kiss just as the cab pulled into the harbor. “You’re too damn good for me.”

  She inched back, trying—and failing—to wrap her head around that statement. But there were so many levels of confounding. Like the fact that he even thought about her in terms of...him.

  Unless… “You mean for the job you’re offering?”

  “No. For me.”

  * * *

  After he situated Liza in his sister’s favorite stateroom and showed her that she had everything she needed to shower, relax, and change for dinner once they were underway for the return trip, Nate retreated to his own suite to think.

  Except, somewhere in Key West, he’d stopped thinking and started feeling. Feeling something he was not familiar with: inadequacy.

  No woman ever made him feel that way. Of course, he’d spent his life with women who were exactly like he was—cocky, arrogant, draped in the trappings of wealth, which covered a multitude of sins.