The Lottery Winner (23 page)

“We need to celebrate.”

The excitement in her smile encouraged him. “How...how did that just happen, Logan?”

He opened the trunk and withdrew the cooler containing the fruits of his careful planning.

“Reed is the client I had to meet this morning. I was talking about your work, and when he realized you were the same artist he and Ana had been admiring at the Widow, he asked me if you'd be willing to do a mural for them. We arranged the meeting. The rest you know.”

“You told a client about me?”

He felt the burn crawling from his chest to his hairline. Talked about her? No. He'd yammered like a love-struck fool. He had it bad. “Jessie, I'm proud of your work—even if I can't take any credit for it.”

She wound her arms around his waist, rose on tiptoe and kissed him. The soft press of her mouth combined with the brush of her breasts as she slowly sank back to her heels sent need pulsing through him and almost derailed his plan.

“But you can take credit, Logan. Without your encouragement I'd never have displayed or sold any of my paintings, let alone agreed to consider a mural.”

“Yes, you would've. You're that good.” He grabbed her hand. “Let's enjoy the sunset.”

He led her to the double-size lounger between the pool and the cabana. Ever since he'd seen this place he'd wanted to have his way with Jessie out here where the evening breeze could dry the sweat from their skin. He angled the lounge toward the west and the sun sinking behind the trees of No Name Key, then double-checked to make sure they were screened from the road by the tiki hut. “Have a seat.”

He lit each of the citronella torches, and the pungent aroma filled the air. Then he returned to the cabana, hit a switch and soft music from the outdoor speakers filled the air. Next, he turned on the pool lights and then the spa. The water bubbled to life with a low rumble.

He opened the cooler and extracted his goodies. First, the bottle of champagne, then the flutes. They clinked when he set them on the small table. A slow, sexy smile curved her lips. She bent one knee and the skirt of her dress fell to the top of her thighs, revealing a sliver of red panties. He popped the cork—literally and almost figuratively—before collecting himself and filling both glasses.

He had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Jessie. Thoughts of her intruded into his work. That was a first. Not even Elizabeth had come between him and crunching numbers.

He blocked off the past. He'd deal with that in the morning. He wasn't going to let his ex spoil tonight. Then he pressed a glass into Jessie's hand.

“To your success. May it be the first of many.” He clinked his rim against hers. She sipped, her eyes overflowing with emotion that he hoped matched how he felt.

After drinking, he stared into the liquid, trying to find the words to say what he needed to say, and hoping she understood what a big step this was for him. Then he lifted his gaze to hers. “If you do the mural, you'll need to be in Florida beyond your lease on this place. I want you to move in with me, Jessie.”

Her lips parted. Her chest rose on a deep breath.

Before she could respond, he rushed to present his case. “My house isn't much. It's certainly nothing like this. But it is on the water with a great view of the sunset. I have a screened porch that I can enclose and turn into a studio for you. I'll leave you alone to paint during the day. Then we can be together every night.”

His pulse kicked in anticipation of those nights, but his gut clenched with worry that she'd reject him—especially after she heard about Charleston.

She set her glass on the concrete beside her chair, then rose to her knees and took his face in her hands. She kissed him again, but this time was different. Her lips clung, and when she lifted her head, love shone in her eyes like a lighthouse beacon.

“I love you, Logan. And I would love to move in with you.”

His heart pounded. Love. She'd said the word. He wanted to say it back. But he didn't. His pride had been ground in the dust once before—he wouldn't lay it out there for another tromping. If Jessie changed her mind about her feelings in the morning, then at least he'd have the satisfaction of knowing he hadn't bared his soul.

* * *

S
HE
'
D
SAID
IT
and it felt good. Dredging up the courage to take the initiative, Jessie took Logan's glass and put it on the table.

Then she leaned in and kissed him again. She savored his mouth, the taste and texture of his jaw, now studded with five o'clock shadow. The silkiness of his hair tickled between her fingers.

His hands clasped the backs of her thighs and stroked upward, stopping just below her panties, then he delved beneath the elastic and cupped her bottom. The heat of his hands spread through her. He held her close while he tickled her neck with his tongue then kissed his way down the strap of her sundress.

“Take it off,” he murmured against her sternum.

She reached up and untied the halter straps. They fell, snagging on her erect nipples. He nudged the fabric aside with his nose and night air caressed her flesh a moment before his breath warmed her, then his tongue circled her. He suckled and swirled and grazed. She shuddered as he pulled a response from deep inside her.

His caresses made her hungry and bold. She dragged her fingers from his hair and unbuttoned his shirt, then pushed it aside and bent to torture him the way he had her. He groaned, and the sound rumbled through her.

She worked her way down his chest to his belly then flicked open the button of his pants to reveal his navel. Remembering how it had felt when he'd done it to her this morning, she swirled her tongue around his navel. His stomach muscles contracted and his erection pressed against his zipper. She eased down the teeth and pulled his boxers aside, then she tasted him.

His breath hissed. His back bowed. She circled and teased him until he growled her name. Then he flipped her onto her back, lifted her skirt and tossed aside her panties. Seconds later he was sheathed and inside her, riding her to a release more powerful than any she'd ever experienced. His own quickly followed.

She stroked his back and stared at the stars, trying to catch her breath. She loved this man. And she prayed he loved her. He hadn't said it, but he'd shown her in so many ways. If he loved her, they could get through anything—even the lottery headaches.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against hers. “I wanted to have my way with you, but I thought we'd at least get undressed first.”

She smiled and nipped his earlobe.

The sound of car doors slamming cut through the music. He stiffened above. “That sounded close.”

Too close. She scrambled out from under him, grabbing the straps and retying her dress then batting down her skirt. He zipped his pants.

She heard the crunch of approaching footsteps. Her heart rose in her throat. Who knew the gate code? Who could have gotten into her compound? Her brother's warning raced through her head. Before she could figure out if they needed to run for the house, Brandon, followed by her father and mother, came around the corner of the tiki hut.

Shock rocked her. Why were they here? Then embarrassment filled her. She was sure what she'd just been partaking in was written all over her face. “What are you doing here?”

“Is this him?” Brandon barked. “Is this the embezzler?”

Confused and embarrassed, she glanced at Logan then back to her brother. “I— No—this is Logan. What are you talking about?”

“He hasn't told you he was a hot-shot financial adviser whose Charleston firm stole funds from clients and wiped out dozens of peoples' retirement accounts?”

A chill raced through her. No.
No!
She turned to Logan. He looked pale under the tiki lights. “Logan, tell Brandon he has the wrong man.”

Logan's jaw locked. A muscle in his upper lip twitched. His fists clenched at his sides.

“You are Logan Chancellor Nash. I recognize your picture,” Brandon continued in his most intimidating tone.

That was Logan's full name. She'd heard Miri use it. Dread coiled like a copperhead in her belly. “Tell him, Logan. Tell him he's wrong.”

“He's not.”

She couldn't breathe. Her head spun. “But...but you're an accountant.”

“He is now,” Brandon said. “Because no one will trust him with their investments.”

“The charges were dismissed,” Logan stated flatly.

“For lack of evidence. Not lack of guilt. Has he told you about his fugitive wife and business partner? How about the missing millions? Did they cut you out of the deal, bud? Screw you while they were screwing each other? That's what the newspapers claim. Is that how it happened?”

Logan had told her about his ex-wife and ex–business partner's affair and how they'd run away together. Jessie felt sick to her stomach. Had he been using her sympathy to connive her? She didn't want to believe that.

“And now you're trying to swindle my sister out of her winnings. Did you recognize her from the lottery announcements despite this—” he gestured to her hair “—thin disguise? Was an elementary-school teacher easy picking to a professional thief like you?”

“That's not how it was.” She denied to herself as much as to her family then covered her mouth to hold back a sob. Had she done it again? Fallen for and been completely fooled by someone?

Brandon turned his sneer on her. “Are you trying to tell me there's no way he found out that you're East Coast's biggest lottery winner? That none of the press that's been hounding you and drove you into hiding could have found you or tipped him off? He just happened to single out a waitress with a bad dye job and sweep her off her feet?”

His private investigator knew who she was and why she was here. Had Ignatius told Logan?

Tears of heartbreak and humiliation burned her cheeks. She didn't want to believe Brandon. But he was family. He'd always been there for her and protected her the way big brothers did.

She faced Logan. “Tell me it's not true, Logan. Please, tell me it's not true.”

The deadness in his eyes as he met her gaze crushed her. “You've already made up your mind.”

Then he strode past her family. She heard his car door slam, then the engine fire and pull away.

Her knees buckled. She landed on the lounger—the same lounger where she'd made love to a man who'd lied to her as much as she'd lied to him. Only he'd been hiding a criminal past and his intentions to hurt her.

Or had he?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T
HE
DOUBTS
IN
Jessie's eyes ate at Logan all the way home. And they brought the past flooding back. Friends and even his own father had refused to vouch for him or come to court to support him. Only Miri and Jack had been there for him through the long, humiliating trial. It had cost them time and money—he could never repay them.

Then he processed the rest of her brother's story. The East Coast's biggest lottery winner? Jessie must have millions. She'd told him she needed the money from her tips and painting sales. She'd even held on to the measly five hundred in case the buyers wanted it back. What a load of crap. And he'd fallen for her fake vulnerability.

Ha. No wonder I had told Logan not to worry about Jessie taking from the till.

He felt like a gullible fool. He'd believed she was hiding from a bad relationship and had worried about the asshole coming after her. Instead she was hiding from the press, and if the media found her, they'd find him. Worse, if they found him involved with a lottery winner, he'd be crucified. Again. It wouldn't matter that he hadn't known about her money. Just like her brother, the rest of the world would think him a crook. He couldn't face the press until he could clear his name.

He loved her. Or thought he did. But he couldn't be with someone who didn't trust him and who would always wonder about his motives for being with her.

He'd learn to live without her. The same way he'd learned to live without Elizabeth.

* * *

“W
HERE
IN
THE
hell are you going?” Brandon asked Friday morning when she entered the den wearing her uniform.

Jessie was tired and cranky. She hadn't slept all night. She kept replaying Brandon's ugly accusations and weighing them against her days with Logan. They didn't add up. Why would he help her land a dream job with his friends if all he wanted to do was rip her off? And what about Miri? She was such a giver. Jessie couldn't believe she'd love and forgive someone who stole from others. And why would Logan have a private investigator working for him if
he
was the guilty one? Ignatius had been on the scene long before Jessie came around.

Then she kept recalling the look on Logan's face when her brother mentioned her lottery win. She'd seen shock. Not greed. Not excitement. Not even a twinkle of anticipation over spending a chunk of cash.

But he'd admitted he had been on trial for embezzlement. Should she trust her own instincts or her brother's? He was, after all, a professional interrogator. And she had a lousy track record. But he didn't know Logan.

Did she? Did she really know him or only what he'd wanted her to see?

“Jessamine,” Brandon snapped.

The name rankled. “It's Jessie. And I'm going to work.”

“You don't need a job.”

She opened her mouth to object then shook her head. Why waste her breath? Brandon wouldn't listen. “Miri needs me.”

“Jessamine,” her mother crooned. “I know you're hurting. Come home with us. We want you to be safe.”

“I was never in any danger, Mom, and I'm still not. You're the one who taught me to always honor my word. I made a promise to help a friend, and I'm going to keep it.” She held up a hand when she saw the protests forming from all three of her guests. “I know I usually do everything you tell me to do, but I'm not going to give on this. So don't waste your breath. Y'all can go home or stay and enjoy a few days here. That's up to you.”

Walking out on her family was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She worried all the way to the Widow that she was making a mistake. She wasn't ready to face Logan until she figured out the truth, but he shouldn't come in until closing. By then she'd have helped the rest of the staff through the rush, and she could duck out before he arrived. To her broken heart, that sounded like her best bet.

* * *

“I
WANT
TO
go to the Widow,” Miri announced Friday morning as soon as her nurse left.

“Forget about it,” Ignatius replied instantly without looking up from his laptop computer.

“I won't do anything. I just need to be there.”

He turned his pugnacious face on her. She smiled and gave him her most pitiful, begging eyes—the ones his granddaughters had used successfully. His grouch face melted. “Fine. If Jessie and Sue promise to make you behave. I could use an hour or two to do a little business. But let me warn you, goldie, if you misbehave, I'll make sure you don't leave this yard except for doctor's appointments for the rest of your six weeks.”

“Goldie?”

“Your hair turns to gold in the sunshine. It's pretty.”

The compliment took the wind out of her sails. “Thank you?”

“You're a beautiful woman. You need me to tell you that?”

Flabbergasted, she stared at him. “It's not something I hear every day.”

“You should.” He called the restaurant and must have received affirmation, because he rolled her chair down the ramp and to his car. When he turned to open the door, she scooted forward in the seat.

“Freeze,” he barked commandingly, and she froze in shock.

“Is that your cop voice?”

“Yeah.”

“It must have been effect—” Before she could guess what he was doing he swept her up as if she weighed no more than a child and put her in the passenger seat, then he leaned across her and buckled her belt. It was over before she could process her response to all the brushing and touching. Her nipples were embarrassingly tight from the scrape of his arm.

“Have you found anything on Elizabeth?” she asked to hide her reaction. She hoped he missed the throatiness of her voice.

“Nothing firm.”

“Did the letter help?”

“Yeah.”

He was preoccupied and had been since she'd given him the letters two nights ago. She hadn't realized how much she enjoyed his company until she didn't have it. Not that he'd physically left, but mentally, he'd been miles away, staring into his computer screen. She missed him, she realized. Missed his nagging. Missed his overprotectiveness. Missed him watching her every move. Missed the crazy way he pampered her.

Who'd have thunk it? She actually liked having the buttinsky in her house.

They reached the Widow. The parking lot was already filling with the early lunch crowd. She couldn't wait to get inside and feel useful. He opened her door, planted his big paws on either side of her and leaned into her face, stopping scant inches away. His aftershave filled her lungs with its pleasant, manly scent, and her tummy fluttered.

“Stay out of the kitchen. There's no room in there for folks to move around without bumping your leg. And don't do anything to hurt yourself. Because, so help me, if you do, Miriam Louise, I'm not letting you outta my sight again. Got that?”

His nearness scattered her thoughts. She scrambled to find them. “I hear you.”

He scooped her up as if she were delicate china and set her into her wheelchair, then he bent over her from behind. His minty breath tickled her ear. “I have plans for you and me when that cast is off. And I want it off soon. So don't screw up your healing.”

Then he straightened and wheeled her inside. Excitement skittered through her. She'd sworn when she lost Jack that she'd never look at another man, but this one, this supposedly jaded former detective who cowered in the face of his granddaughters, rescued kittens and played both chef and nursemaid, definitely had her attention.

He wheeled her into the Widow. The entire staff was waiting for her and cheered. She teared up, pressing her hands to her chest. Lordy, she'd missed her family. Ignatius parked her by the hostess stand and locked her tires.

“Don't let her move from this spot,” she heard him order over all the greetings and hugs. Home. She soaked it in: the smells, the wooden walls, the chatter of people and clink of utensils.

“Thank you all,” she told them. “Now get back to work.”

Grinning, she looked over her shoulder to thank Ignatius for bringing her in. But he was already gone. A little of the air from her happiness balloon leaked out. Then a customer came up. She squashed her disappointment and greeted them.

Even if she couldn't work and couldn't be part of the kitchen chaos, she was happy to be here. An hour later her energy was flagging, though. She was debating retreating to the empty private party room when someone called her name.

Ignatius's daughter walked up. “Miri, I want to thank you for keeping the girls the other day. They have talked nonstop about their visit ever since.”

“It was a joy to have them.” Then Miri realized there was a way to repay Ignatius for what he was doing—for her and for Logan. “Bethany, do you have a moment?”

“Um...sure.”

At the risk of inviting Ignatius's wrath, Miri released the brakes and wheeled her chair into the private room. She spun to face Bethany. “Your father loves you very much. And he adores those girls.”

Bethany shifted and her gaze bounced away. “I know.”

She didn't sound convinced.

“He's told me how much he regrets never being there while you were growing up, but it wasn't because he didn't care for you or your mother. It was because he wanted you to have nice things. Sometimes, we get so caught up in proving our love by giving material things that we forget our time is the most precious gift we can share with the ones we love.”

Bethany mashed her lips together, blinked and nodded.

“I hope you'll give Ignatius a chance to give you and the girls the gift of his time now. I'm not going to lie. He's absolutely terrified of Sydney and Chloe, but it's because they mean so much to him and because in seeing them, he's realizing what he missed with you.”

Tears streaked down Bethany's cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you so much for telling me that. I grew up only hearing Mom's side of the story, so...I didn't know. And he has been trying...really hard.” She bent down and hugged Miri. “Whatever you are to my dad, I hope you're part of his future.”

A knot formed in Miri's throat. “You and the girls are welcome at my house any time—with or without Ignatius.”

A throat clearing drew Miri's attention to the doorway. Ignatius stood there. She hoped she hadn't overstepped her bounds. But she couldn't tell. His face was a blank mask.

Bethany launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him until his face turned red. His eyes filled as he hugged her back. The gratitude Miri saw when he met her gaze filled her with as much satisfaction as returning to the Widow today had. She wanted a ringside seat as he rebuilt his relationship with his daughter. And she wanted to be a part of Ignatius's future, too.

An immediate sense of disloyalty to Jack rushed over her. Jack had been the love of her life. Without him she would never have built this place that filled her days and her heart. And she could never forget that. Or him.

But if she clung to her memories, was she doing any different than what she chastised Logan for? She couldn't move forward if she continued looking back. And what she had with Ignatius was so...different than what she'd shared with Jack.

Bethany said her goodbyes and Ignatius aimed those green eyes at Miri. “You moved. There will be a penalty for that.”

She scowled. “You can't ground me. I'm not a child.”

“No. You're not.” He wheeled her out the front door and to his car then lifted her and set her in the passenger seat. He leaned over her to fasten her seat belt but didn't pull back. As he'd done this morning, he paused with his face only inches away.

“You're the woman my daughter wants to be a part of my future. I want that, too.”

Miri gasped. “You have a fine way of showing it. You didn't even kiss me goodbye after you took me to lunch.”

“I don't make a habit of kissing women I'm not dating. But as of now, you and I are dating.” Then he planted his mouth on hers.

Shock held her immobile. Then a tidal wave of sensation crashed over her, rolling her as if she'd been caught in the surf. His lips were gentle and soft. She wouldn't have expected that from the big goon. He cupped her face even more gently, then feathered his fingers through her hair. Her pulse roared in her ears and a whirlpool of desire formed in her stomach.

Then he lifted his head. His bemused expression turned to one of satisfaction. Hunger glinted in his eyes. “Get used to it. There's more where that came from.”

She gathered her shattered composure. “Says you.”

His smile turned smug. “Yeah, says me. You're a fireball, Miri, with a big heart. You never met a stranger and you're too generous for your own good. I figure you're exactly what a jaded ol' detective like me needs. I'm mighty fond of you, Miriam Louise, and I plan to court you. I had planned to wait until you got rid of the cast, but you jumped the gun on that one. But I'm telling you, no matter how much you beg, I'm keeping my virginity until after you get that hunk of plaster off.”

She snorted. “You haven't been a virgin in a lot of years.”

He blushed. “You make me feel like one. Like I'm falling in love for the first time. I don't know what to say or what to do and I—”

Her heart turned into a big puddle of mush. She put her finger to his lips. “You're doing just fine, and ready or not, I think I'm falling for you, too, Ignatius Smith.”

* * *

J
ESSIE
HAD
PARKED
across the street from the Widow. She waited in her car until she saw Logan turn into the lot, then she headed for Miri's. When she got there she climbed the ramp and knocked on the door. Ignatius opened it.

“Come in,” he said with no trace of malice.