Authors: Deborah Brown
Life can go along relatively uncomplicated for ages, and then, all of a sudden, you’re served a curveball. “In addition to the problems at Edwards Inc., we still don’t know who broke into Nicole’s house or why. Now that she’s here to live, I worry about whether she’s safe.”
“Has the missing will been found?” Jake asked.
Michael’s cell phone started ringing; he got up and went inside to take the call. As he passed through the pocket door, he answered, even though he didn’t recognize the number. “Michael Edwards.” He heard heavy breathing, then a woman’s low-pitched voice.
“Mr. Edwards, I must talk to you. I’m in a lot of trouble. I’m Kirkland Alexander’s widow.”
Chapter Eight
WHEN NICOLE ENTERED the clubhouse, she was struck by the wall-to-wall windows that overlooked the private marina, the docks twinkling with running lights. A young woman sat in the corner of the bar area playing a guitar in a style reminiscent of Norah Jones. The soothing sounds erased the feelings of impending doom that had haunted her since the mysterious warning the night before and been increased by the sudden appearance of her ex. The atmosphere of the Beach Club reeked of nautical elegance. She looked about the enormous foyer filled with pictures of the owners of winning racing boats displaying their trophies. The table that separated the foyer from the dining room held a large vase of tropical blooms with seashells in the bottom, which gave off a slight fragrance of lime.
On the far left was a large bar area with comfortable seating, which included a game area, pool table, small dance floor, and room for the musical entertainment set-up. The main dining room took up the rest of the open space, the lighting low, pillar candles illuminating each table. Outside, a long deck ran the length of the building. There were steps on each side leading to the pool area and the private beach beyond.
Nicole caught her reflection in a floor-to-ceiling mirror. She was wearing black stilettos and a black spaghetti-strap silk slip dress that ended mid-thigh. Encircling her neck was a diamond heart pendant given to her mother by her father. She lightly touched the necklace, wondering what her father would think of his daughter inheriting his mother’s estate.
One would assume a beach club would adopt a relaxed atmosphere due to the easy water access, the offering of private boat slips, and the nearness of the beach, which boasted a variety of water activities, but the men looked as though they’d walked out of a high-end tropical men’s clothing store, and the waiters wore crisp black pants, jackets, and bow ties. The women were dressed up in the brightest of colors, with Nicole’s favorite the varying shades of green.
“Nicole,” Ellis said, indicating the club manager, “Tony Grand. Nicole Alexander, Caroline’s granddaughter.”
The man beamed with what looked like approval. “We’re happy to see you here. Caroline was a valued member and well liked. She sat on the board, and her influence was appreciated because she knew what made good policies for the club. I saw firsthand the positive changes she brought. I hope we’ll see you here often, and also at the next board meeting.” He inclined his head and hurried away when another member coming through the door called to him.
“There’s Michael Edwards and his sister,” Ellis said as he pulled out her chair for her. “I can’t figure out why Cecilia still looks like she’s in mourning even though it’s been three years since her husband’s death. She’s waited a decent amount of time, unlike a couple of women I could mention, who walked down the aisle practically the day after their previous husbands died,” he said in disgust. “Cecilia has lived on this island ever since she was a child. The parents died, I believe, when she was about twenty.”
“She stopped by to welcome me, and I enjoyed getting to know her. She’s nice and approachable.”
“Cecilia needs to take some of the self-confidence she displays in business and apply it to her personal life. The other woman, the voluptuous blonde, is Katrina Lewis. She’s the one who dumped Edwards to marry some old windbag with one foot in the grave. It looks as though Edwards is going to try again. Who knows, maybe he’ll look better to the grieving widow now that she’s inherited millions. She can afford to marry for love.” He snorted.
Nicole found it hard to keep from gasping at Ellis, never guessing he’d be such a gossip. She ignored his sarcasm and looked at the woman who’d called to Michael from her sports car, addressing him as “sweetheart.” She ran her claw-like fingernails up and down Michael’s arm in an intimate caress, laughing up at him. There was no answering smile on his face; in fact, he looked annoyed and tense, as though he had other things on his mind.
Ellis scanned the room and went on. “Jake Edwards is with them. But you’ve met him. He’s just a younger version of his brother. Still, it’s hard to think of him as anything other than a child. He was quite the hellion growing up, always in some sort of trouble. Surprised me he didn’t end up in jail. Usually the entrance of the entire Edwards family would draw attention—as they rarely show up as a threesome—but tonight, you, my dear, are center stage.”
Nicole had been aware for some time that their table was the focal point of most of the eyes in the room. “So tell me, how many of these people are my neighbors?” she asked. She loved being around people, but only after the awkward get-to-know-you stage.
“Friday Fresh Seafood Night is quite popular. Except for a few guests, they’re all club members. We’re a snooty bunch. Membership isn’t easy to get, and we don’t invite the public in unless the club is hosting a race day.” Ellis broke off for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “I wonder who he is?”
“Who?” She turned in her seat.
“The tall blond guy acting like he owns the place who just came in with the two overdressed women.”
At that moment, Greg caught Nicole’s eye and nodded to her.
“You know him?” Ellis clearly didn’t approve.
She looked up to see the lawyer watching her curiously and was annoyed to feel her cheeks heat up. “His name is Greg Templeton. I met him when I lived in Santa Fe,” she said. “Tell me more about the people here.”
At least her request diverted him off the subject of Greg. But before he could get into a detailed discussion of her new neighbors, Ellis was interrupted as the crowd began to come, one-by-one, to the table and introduce themselves, eager to meet and welcome the newest member of their community. First among them was the manager of the bank where her accounts were held, reminding her that they’d seen each other at the gas station, although he hadn’t known who she was at the time, which she suspected to be a lie.
During a brief lull, Ellis said, “Are you overwhelmed yet? I could give you a brief tour before dinner to stave off more introductions.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Greg approach the Edwards family table, a frown on his face. He bent over Cecilia’s outstretched hand, and Michael rose to his feet.
Prepare for an explosion,
Nicole thought. To her surprise, Cecilia nodded, and she and Greg moved to the very small dance floor in the bar, joining one other couple. Michael resumed his seat, his eyes never leaving his sister as she moved in the arms of someone he detested. Cecilia and Greg laughed, and Michael looked ready to explode. Beside him, Katrina attacked a roll on her plate, her heavily made-up face sulky. Michael thoroughly ignored her.
“What startled you?” Ellis inquired. “You drew a quick breath, as if something had frightened you.”
“A large man just passed by, and I thought he’d step on my foot.” Nicole laughed. “He was quite big, and for one awful second, I thought my foot would be crushed.” She congratulated herself on the quick lie.
Their dinner arrived, a grilled fresh white fish seasoned to perfection and lightly grilled vegetables with crusty French bread.
Ellis continued his monologue on the subject of her grandmother and the estate. Occasionally, Nicole interrupted to ask a question she hadn’t had an opportunity to when she sat in his office that morning. While Ellis talked, she watched Michael from under her lashes.
Damn, he’s attractive,
she thought, and of course, there was the flirtation of his light kisses earlier. When would she be getting another?
She realized suddenly that Ellis had stopped talking. “I’m sorry. Here I am, encouraging you to talk business when we should be having fun,” she said.
“I’m having a good time,” he said. “I don’t mind answering well-thought-out questions. I’ve been working on selling some of the rental properties up in Tampa; tighten up your portfolio. At some point, they’re not worth the hassle of being an absentee owner. Caroline and I discussed this plan, and she agreed. The sales would open up the possibility of investing closer to home. When you get a chance to look at the file I gave you, let me know if you have any questions. There’s a profile on each property, including pictures. I have a couple of interested investors on tap.”
“May I have this dance?”
The plates had barely been cleared away, and Greg loomed over her. He smiled, in complete confidence of her answer. She hated to dance and he knew it, but she hated public spectacles even more. She knew she’d have to accept rather than rouse Ellis’s curiosity by refusing.
She introduced the two men, then asked, “Do you mind, Ellis?”
Before he could respond, Greg asked, “Did I hear you say something about selling property?”
“Are you in the market?” Ellis asked.
“No, but before we dance,” Greg said smoothly, “I’d like Mr. Sadler to meet the two women I brought with me. They’re investors with extensive portfolios.”
“An exchange of partner is a fair proposition,” Ellis said. “Introduce me.”
When Greg returned to Nicole’s side, he looked quite pleased with himself. “It was a lot easier getting rid of your date than I’d anticipated. Let’s dance.”
“You know I hate dancing. Whatever you want to say can be said here at the table. What do you want?”
Greg whispered in her ear, “Spend the night with me—that will improve your mood.” He laughed softly. “What happened to us? Tell me there isn’t really anyone else.”
Seeing him again, her mind flashed back to memories of happier times in Santa Fe, when they had talked and laughed and spent hours tangling in the sheets. He exuded charm, had a great sense of humor, made her laugh in and out of bed, was a thorough lover, and made her feel as if she was the only woman he’d ever want. But she wasn’t. Her taste in men had always been dismal. Her friends joked that she should only be allowed to date by committee—a three-friend panel that would have to approve or no date. None of her friends had liked Greg. She’d never told anyone that she’d caught him with a blonde tied to his bedpost. Turned out he was a serial womanizer and Nicole had been one of many.
“Come out to the patio,” he said. “I want to talk.”
She opened her mouth to refuse, but she loathed scenes of any kind. Besides, she wanted some privacy from the local gossips so she could tell him to go to hell.
Greg took hold of her hand, leading her out onto the patio. “What a beautiful night.”
She jerked her hand back and pressed ahead of him. Her only focus getting this conversation over with, she crossed the patio to an enclosed section of the wall.
She caught Greg glaring at her before he quickly neutralized his expression. “The stars appear to be winking.” He pulled her against him, his fingers digging into her arms to keep her from escaping his grasp.
She winced, putting her hands between them and pushing on his chest. “What do you want, Greg?”
He swept her off her feet and up onto the wall. “I want you to sit there while I point out all the reasons why we should be together.” His eyes were serious, and his voice was slick with charm.
Too bad it was fake. She wondered if he believed his own nonsense. Apparently he thought he could convince people that what they saw with their own eyes had never happened. Her whole life, she’d felt an inclination to fix everything, men included. She needed to stop dwelling on what could’ve been. There was no “fixing” this old relationship. After time apart, she realized she didn’t even like Greg and, more importantly, didn’t trust him. She suddenly became aware that he’d moved closer, inclining his blond head toward her. She remembered her story about the phantom fiancé and knew she mustn’t forget that he believed her to be involved with another man.
Nicole slid off the wall, eluding his outstretched arms, and managed after a few steps to slow her run into a walk. She still slammed into Michael, his arms wrapping around her in an instant to steady her.
Michael looked from Greg to her. “Here you are, Nicole,” he said softly. “Problem here?”
Greg caught Michael by the shoulder and swung him around, the overhead light revealing the ugly line of Greg’s mouth. Horrified, Nicole wasn’t about to let him start a fight. She tried for a light touch. “This isn’t a schoolyard,” she said with a ripple of laughter. She immediately wished she could take back the laugh, as it only added to Greg’s fury.
“So you’re the man Nicole thinks she’s inherited for a husband.” Greg’s hands balled into fists. “You can’t do that to me.”
His arm suddenly drew back.
“Then I’ll do this.” Michael clipped Greg’s jaw, knocking him off balance and over the wall. The breaking of plants and a string of profanity announced his landing, and there was a thrashing sound, indicating that no serious injury had resulted.
Michael straightened his shirt. “Stay away from Nicole,” he called over the wall, then extended his arm to her as if knocking a man over a patio wall was a common occurrence. “Don’t let the sounds of his flailing around bother you, unfortunately he’ll crawl out. Let’s dance.”
“So you’re in the mood to get your feet mauled?” Nicole giggled as they entered the clubhouse. “I’m the worst dancer.”
“We’ll stand in one place, I’ll hold you tight, and we’ll move around.” He winked.
The thought of being pressed together sent a spark through her body all the way down to her toes. She struggled to catch her breath. “I hope you haven’t started a feud with Greg on my account.”