Wicked & Willing: Bad Girls (16 page)

“You bet I will.” Her words were almost snarled. “I’ll be sure to tell him all about his loyal nephew, who brought me down here to try to run a scam. What did you think, that you’d talk me into convincing him not to sell to Troy’s family?”

Troy wondered the same thing. He frankly couldn’t see what Leo had to gain out of this whole scheme, with the exception of time. A DNA test would have proven the truth, and Max would still have sold. It just might have taken longer.

“That was one option,” Leo said. “It still can be, if you
stop and think of the money you could make. I have someone lined up to run the DNA test in our favor. You can stay and live happily as Max’s granddaughter. Make him happier than he’s been in years.” Though he was obviously trying to appear concerned, he was unable to hide the note of self-satisfaction in his voice.

“The two of you can be together and you can convince Max to retire, keeping the company in the family—with me at the helm.”

“What was the other option?” Venus asked, sounding weary.

Leo appeared to visibly relax, and Troy wondered if something in Venus’s expression had led him to think he was getting through to her.

The man obviously didn’t know who he was dealing with.

“Many people know about Max’s medical problems, including the board of Longotti Lines.” Leo stood and approached the window, though not coming close enough to see Troy outside. “He’s also not in the best emotional shape. But he’s grown very fond of you, hasn’t he? Pinned all his hopes and dreams on your pretty shoulders. Finding out you’re not his little Violet, such a severe disappointment…well, he could break down.
Again
.”

Troy closed his eyes briefly, remembering what Mrs. Harris had let slip the other evening about Max’s previous breakdown. His fingers clenched into fists and he wanted nothing more than to slam them into Leo Gallagher’s self-serving face.

“You cruel man.” Venus’s voice was low and thick with emotion. Troy knew her well enough by now to recognize the fury buried in the sadness. “I have to say, in
spite of the things I’ve seen in my life, I can still be surprised by how damn vicious some people can be.”

Leo continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I don’t think I’ll have much problem convincing the voting board members Max isn’t competent to make major decisions about the future of the company.” He shrugged in satisfaction. “So, you see Ms. Messina, either way, I’ll get what I want. All that remains to be seen is whether you care enough to keep an old man happy in his final years. Or if you prefer to tell him the truth and make him fall apart, after which I’ll step in and take over the company anyway.”

“I won’t lie to a man who’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“Suit yourself,” Leo replied. “By all means, tell him the truth. Might be quicker that way.” He stood and plucked an invisible piece of lint off his navy sport jacket, still seeming perfectly content with the way his plan had progressed.

“You won’t get away with it, Leo. I’ll tell the board what you did,” she said, her voice regaining its steely tone.

Leo chuckled. “Who would believe you? I have the cancelled check you cashed. I was your dupe, the pawn of a grubby foster kid turned bartender who tried to con us all. Poor Uncle Max.”

Troy had heard enough. Pushing through the billowing curtains, he entered Venus’s bedroom and strode across the room. He grabbed Leo by the collar of his designer jacket.

“Langtree!”

“They’ll believe her,” Troy snarled. “Because I heard every miserable word, you lousy little prick.”

Before Leo could respond, before Troy could even give
the man a good hard shake, the bedroom door was pushed in from the hall. “As did I.”

Venus, who still couldn’t quite believe Troy had just stalked in here like an avenging god, watched in dismay as Max entered, looking pale and shaken. And very, very angry.

“Max, how long have you been standing there?” She went to his side to take his arm.

He patted her hand. “Long enough. Don’t worry, dear. I’m fine.” He turned to his nephew. “Get out of my house. Remove your belongings from my offices. With four witnesses, I think we’ll be able to convince the board that you’re completely unsuitable for any type of responsible position.”

Venus followed Max’s glance toward the doorway, seeing Mrs. Harris standing there. She’d obviously heard every word, too.

“Uncle Max, I…” Leo attempted.

Max held up a steady, unshaking hand, silently ordering him to stop. “Out. Right now, before I call the police.”

Obviously knowing he couldn’t twist this situation to suit himself, Leo cast a glare at Venus. He swept out of the room, brushing past Mrs. Harris. The housekeeper turned to follow him, her arms crossed over her chest. She appeared to want to ensure Leo didn’t pick up any souvenirs as he left.

When the three of them were alone in the room, Venus slid her arm around Max’s waist. “I feel so awful.”

“None of this was your fault, Venus. You were used as much as I was by the slimy weasel. I’m so glad we’re not actually blood relatives. Never could stand the little peckerwood.”

Venus bit the corner of her lip.

“I was this close to introducing him to my fist,” Troy
said. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt such violence toward anyone in my life.”

“Just as well you didn’t,” Max replied succinctly. “He’d have found the nearest ambulance chaser and sued you but good.”

Seeing the man trying so hard to joke, to reassure her, Venus felt tears rise in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Max.” He shrugged, obviously about to tell her again it wasn’t her fault. She hurried to explain. “What I mean is, I’m so sorry I’m not
her
.” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat. “I wish more than anything that I was really your granddaughter.”

“So do I, honey,” he murmured, still patting her hand. “Can I confess that in my heart, you always will be?”

Troy edged toward the door, probably thinking they wanted to be alone. “I think I’d better go down to the office and make some phone calls. Leo’s going to try to twist this his way and we need to cut his legs out from under him right up front.”

“Let me start here at the house with some of the longstanding members of the board,” Max said. He glanced back and forth between Venus and Troy. “I should go downstairs now and make sure Mrs. Harris isn’t having any trouble with Leo. Troy, I’ll see you shortly?” Before he left, he pressed a kiss to Venus’s temple. “Come visit me later, when you’re feeling better, all right? We’ll talk things over.”

She nodded, blinking rapidly. She didn’t want him to see her cry, not when he’d been so strong. As soon as he was out of the room, with the door shut behind her, however, she felt the moisture on her cheeks.

Without a word, Troy pulled her into his arms, twisting his fingers into her hair to cup her head and hold her tight. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “Max is going to be
okay. Leo didn’t give him enough credit—he’s a tough old guy.”

She let the tears come, crying for Max. For herself. For the fantasy father she’d let go of while she’d tried to embrace an unexpected gift of family. Now that family had been yanked away too, leaving her with nothing.

Though she was glad she’d gotten to meet Max, part of her wished she’d never come. Once again, love seemed to be a blessing and a curse. She’d begun to love the old man. And, like nearly everyone else she’d ever loved, she’d lost him. At this moment, she couldn’t say whether the emotion was worth the heartache.

Troy tugged her down to sit beside him on the bed. She kept her face buried in his neck, sucking up his comfort and warmth like a kid burrowing into a parent.

“Venus, baby, don’t,” he whispered, stroking her hair, her back, and kissing her temple. “Max doesn’t blame you.”

“He should. I should have trusted my instincts about Leo.”

He shook his head, and finally Venus took a deep breath and pulled away. They remained on the bed, face-to-face. Troy looked concerned and understanding, but she thought there was also a hint of something else in his eyes. It was as if a veil had dropped over them and just a bit of the warmth with which he’d looked at her before had been lost.

“Did you hear everything?” she asked.

He nodded. “I knew Leo had you all wrong and you wouldn’t do it. Once you began to love Max, you couldn’t have betrayed him.”

Though his trust warmed her, she again noted something remaining unsaid. Then she began to understand. “But before I got to know him…I took Leo’s money.”

Troy stiffened so slightly, she almost wondered if she imagined it. But she knew she hadn’t.

“Max isn’t angry about the money.”

“You are.”

He didn’t answer with words. His eyes were telling enough.

“I shouldn’t have lied about it,” she admitted.

“I wish you hadn’t. I’d hoped you’d started to trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

She glanced away. “I guess I’m not used to trusting people.”

“Me, neither,” he admitted with a rueful sigh.

“Maybe that’s why we got along so well from the start.” She paused. “And why it’s best for me to leave now.”

“You don’t have to go,” he said. “You heard Max—he doesn’t blame you. He cares about you. He’d be glad if you stayed.”

She waited for a few seconds—the length of a heartbeat—for Troy to continue. Would he admit he cared for her, too? Did
he
want her to stay? When he said nothing, she sat up straighter, more resolved. “I was leaving tomorrow anyway.” Her voice didn’t catch at all on the lie. “I’ll stay in touch with Max.”

He raised a brow, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he said, “And me? Will you stay in touch with me, Venus?”

Would she? Could they maintain a long-distance affair, with occasional trips for hot, exciting weekends filled with passion and laughter? A day or two ago, she might have said yes. But that was before. Before she’d realized she was in love with him. Before she’d been reminded just how heart wrenching love could be.

If she really thought they had a future, she might have
risked it. But they didn’t. She was
not
the long-lost heir to a millionaire. She was not going to be living in an Atlanta mansion, mingling with the kind of polite society Troy was used to. She was the one who couldn’t dance, had wild taste in clothes and didn’t know one utensil from another. She was the unemployed, broke bartender from Baltimore with a mountain of debt and a string of bad relationships trailing along behind her.

I’m the woman who took money from a stranger to come play on the hopes of a sad, heartbroken old man.

The memory shamed her. How could Troy not be ashamed of her, too? She’d seen that look in his eyes. She knew he no longer trusted her. They wouldn’t end up together in the long run. So, for her own protection, she needed to walk away now.

“I don’t think so, Troy. This has been amazing. But we both knew it was short-term. Lust. Not…not love. We’re too different for it to be anything more than physical. And physical seldom survives long distances.” She forced a humorless laugh. “Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.”

His jaw stiffened and intensity flashed in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever get you out of my mind, and I don’t want to try.” He lifted a brow in that confident, sexy expression of his. “Have you forgotten? I agree with you about Rhett and Scarlett. Insanity is better than boredom any day. Opposites attract, but don’t stay together. Like belongs with like, Venus.”

She almost smiled, knowing he still wanted her, knowing she felt the same way. He just hadn’t yet seen the flaw in his logic.

“Don’t you see, Troy?” she asked softly, admitting the truth to herself, as much as to him. “We
are
opposites.”

If this were really
Gone With The Wind
, he’d be Rhett
and she’d be Belle Watling, the madame with the heart of gold who could never fit into the hero’s rich highbrow world.

She’d thought they were alike, and perhaps in some ways, they were. But not enough for forever. Not enough to prevent eventual heartache.

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say a word, the door opened and Mrs. Harris looked in. “Mr. Longotti thinks you should come down now,” she said to Troy, giving them both a sorrowful look. “Apparently Mr. Gallagher has been making some calls on his cellular phone already. Mr. Longotti doesn’t have the numbers for all the board members here at the house and thinks you should go into the office right away.”

Troy looked torn. Finally he stood. “This isn’t finished, Venus. We’ll talk about it later, when I get back, all right?”

Later, when he got back, she intended to be gone. But she didn’t say anything.

Troy turned to follow Mrs. Harris out. Before exiting the room, however, he turned back to the bed. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he tilted her face up and pressed a hard, insistent kiss on her mouth. “This conversation isn’t over.”

She had to disagree. Two hours later, after a heartfelt goodbye to Max, who tried to convince her to stay, Venus got in a cab for the airport. As she flew away from Atlanta, she whispered, “You’re wrong, Troy. It’s definitely over.”

V
ENUS SPENT
her first two days back in Baltimore wallowing and eating lots of chocolate. Max called twice, both times telling her she was always welcome in his home. He’d also mentioned Troy. “He’s angry, and, I think, hurt,” Max said Sunday night. “He can’t understand why you left. I can’t either. I have eyes—I know something happened between you two.”

Knowing Max was only trying to be helpful, she admitted the truth. “He thinks we’re a lot alike. I think we’re opposites. Maybe it wouldn’t matter if we were both a little right, or both a little wrong,
if
we really loved each other.”

At her pause, Max prompted, “And you don’t?”

She couldn’t answer. Instead, she changed the subject, making Max chuckle while she told him stories of her moody cat, who’d repaid her for being gone by leaving yucky presents all over her apartment her first day back.

He
hadn’t
laughed when she’d told him someone had broken into the vestibule of her apartment building twice last week, vandalizing the mail boxes. Luckily, Venus had arranged to have her mail held before she left, meaning there’d be a bunch of bills to pick up at the post office Monday morning.

“Funny,” Max said. “It turns out Leo was in Baltimore last week, while you were here. He was meeting with a P.I., whose name has turned up on some checks from
Longotti Lines over the years.” He sniffed. “My accountants spent the day in the office. They think the sneaky little bastard’s a thief as well as a liar.”

Venus’s first thought was to wonder if Leo had thought to steal his money back from her. She thrust it out of her mind—Leo had told her he had the cancelled check, so he knew she’d cashed it. She had absolutely nothing else that he needed, and he’d only known about her for a matter of weeks. So the P.I. had to have been working on something else that didn’t involve her.

The pile of bills at the post office was bigger than she’d feared, so Monday she went straight to Flanagan’s. She needed money. Since she’d sent the entire five thousand dollars she’d gotten from lousy Leo to her foster mother—unable to even consider keeping a dime of it for herself—she needed cash
now
.

“Tell you what,” Joe said when she showed up. “You tell me where I can find this Leo guy so’s I can break both his legs, and you can come back to work right now.”

Venus kissed his grizzled cheek and got to work.

On Wednesday afternoon, Joe’s waitress had an appointment and Venus leapt at the chance for an extra shift. Wednesdays were the slowest day at Flanagan’s, so after lunch Venus assured Joe she could handle things while he ran to the bank. He’d been worried about keeping cash on hand because of a rough-looking stranger who’d hung around a lot last week.

“Hey,” he said before leaving, “I forgot. There’s a package for you. Maureen sent it here since she knew you were away. It’s under the bar.”

Remembering her foster mother had promised to send some old papers, Venus glanced at the package. Not wanting to open it until she was alone, she left it on the shelf.

Right now, two businessmen occupied a corner booth. When they weren’t hitting on her, they were busy whispering, probably about their plans for world domination, or for screwing over their shareholders. An elderly woman and her two middle-aged daughters, who said they were on a shopping spree, were in another booth.

The only other person in the place was a silent, dark-haired chick dressed all in black, who sat at the bar. She faced the door, able to see everyone who entered. Venus had the feeling she didn’t trust anyone enough to present them with her back. With her pale skin, striking hair, dark clothes and unsmiling expression, she reminded Venus of Tuesday Adams from the old Adam’s Family show.

None of them were conversationalists, which left Venus time to wallow in self-pity because she hadn’t heard from Troy. She shouldn’t have cared—she was the one who’d left without a goodbye. But, dammit, he could have at least made the effort.

“Probably moved on to the next willing female before my plane left the ground,” she muttered.

Taking a damp rag to a stubborn dried stain on the surface of the bar, she glanced up when the door opened. About two grand worth of designer clothes, wrapped around a stunning redhead, walked in off the street. A lifetime worth of antipathy for the wealthy sent a tiny shot of stiffness up her spine.

Then Venus paused. She’d just spent a week with a rich man, Max, whom she now truly loved. Besides, this woman had a simmering look of intrigue and a boatload of attitude. That made anyone okay in Venus’s book. She greeted the newcomer with a smile.

“Cool shirt,” the woman said. She took a seat at the bar, crossing her legs in a way that most women in a
short dress would consider a requisite for modesty, but which Venus recognized as a subtle sign to any man within drooling distance. A glance at the dweebs in the booth confirmed the Pavlovian response.

Venus looked down at her favorite old T-shirt, complete with saucy mascot. Troy might not have known who she was, but any self-respecting redhead sure as hell would. She grinned, then glanced at the other woman’s designer outfit. “You don’t look like the T-shirt type.”

The woman’s warm laugh continued to draw the eyes of the two businessmen, as she’d almost certainly intended, probably more due to nature than design. “Believe me, sister, I don’t dress this way every day. And I certainly don’t do it for myself.”

Frankly, if Venus had buckets of money, she’d dress
only
to please herself. Except, perhaps, in the bedroom. Hell, for Troy, she might actually have given in and tried a thong again!

The woman had continued speaking, still talking about Venus’s shirt and Jessica Rabbit. “I’d like to think I have a lot in common with her. Not bad, just drawn that way.”

Venus nodded. “Ditto.” Without being told, she instinctively knew the woman with the smoky voice would be a whiskey drinker. She poured her a shot of the good stuff and slid it over. “My name’s Venus. Venus Messina.”

The woman extended her hand. “Sydney. Sydney Colburn.”

Venus instantly recognized the name, which was on the spine of several of her all-time favorite novels. “Sydney Colburn. No kidding? The writer?”

After Sydney tasted the whiskey, she nodded that it was to her liking. “One and the same.”

Sydney Colburn’s books had provided many nights’ escape during the past year. Venus might have sworn off men physically, but she’d been addicted to reading about the kind of fabulous guys this woman created with such thrilling—
throbbing
—detail.

After telling Sydney how much she’d liked her heroes, saying it was too bad more men couldn’t live up to her standard, she added, “And my favorite thing about your books—no wimpy heroines!”

“Men who meet my standard do exist,” the author said softly. “The trouble is finding them.”

Venus almost snorted at that one. “Finding men has never been a problem for me.” Hell, she’d been finding men who’d attracted her since she had been old enough to look up the word orgasm in the dictionary! “Keeping them? That’s another story.”

“The good ones or the so-so ones?”

Venus sighed. “Good or even so-so wouldn’t be bad. Unfortunately, the only ones I seem to manage to hang on to are the creeps who cost you jobs or empty your bank accounts. Not the green-eyed dreamboats with chestnut hair and the kind of wicked, sexy grin that oughta be illegal.” She glanced away, trying to thrust Troy’s image out of her mind.

Sydney obviously noticed and made a knowing sound.

“What?”

“You got it bad, sister.”

Venus scowled. “Speak for yourself.”

After Sydney admitted she
was
speaking for herself, Venus poured her another drink.

“We bad girls have it tough, you know?” Venus said. “Those Goody Two-shoes have saying ‘no’ down to an art form, blaming morals or past hurts. We say yes because of those
same
morals or past hurts! We can’t seem
to give up on the idea that the next handsome stud who comes along might erase what the last one did.”

“Handsome studs are a dime a dozen.”

The lady in black, whom Venus had nearly forgotten about, had obviously been following their conversation. Venus approached the attractive young woman, whose demeanor, clothes and attitude sent off one signal: mysterious. “Hey, girl, I almost forgot you were here. Come join us. Bad girls need to stick together.”

The woman looked back and forth between them, still wary, but considering. Then her lip curled, possibly in jaded amusement. “Bad girls. Are we forming a club here?”

Venus snorted at the very idea. “Last club I belonged to was the Girl Scouts. I got kicked out when I was eleven.” As Sydney raised a questioning brow, Venus explained. “Summer camp. I got caught sneaking into the boys’ cabin to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. The troop leader came in just as I was heading into the closet with Tommy Callahan.” She shook her head and sighed at the memory. “He had the cutest dimples. And cool braces.”

Sydney nodded, wearing a similar look of reminiscence.

A grin suddenly brightened the features of the woman in black, softening her face and making her look younger than Venus had figured her to be. “I never made it past Brownies. I kept altering the uniform in a way that, well, didn’t meet with the troop leader’s approval. But the boys liked it.” She winked. “Besides, brown isn’t my color.”

“Hell,” Sydney proclaimed, “my mother never let me forget I got tossed outta preschool for showing the boys my underwear.”

Venus snickered. “Hey, why was she complaining?”

“Yeah,” the brunette said with a knowing look at Ve
nus. They finished the thought in unison. “At least you were wearing ’em.”

The three of them, strangers until ten minutes before, but sisters just the same, shared a moment of soft laughter. Seeing the understanding in their eyes, Venus wished she’d met them long ago. “I guess we’ve been members of the bad girls club since birth, huh?”

Sydney silently lifted her glass in salute, and the other woman followed suit. Venus popped the cap off a beer and joined them in an unspoken toast to wicked women everywhere.
God love them
.

The door opened again. This time, two young women in proper business attire entered to join the men in the booth. The suit-clad oglers promptly sat up straighter. “Oh, no, a good girl’s in sight, reign in the lust,” Venus whispered.

The stranger in black picked up her drink and moved next to Sydney, introducing herself as Nicole Bennett. They chatted for several more minutes, until the ring of Sydney’s cell phone interrupted.

Venus left to wait on the two newcomers—white wine spritzers, she coulda predicted that a mile away—then returned to find Sydney disconnecting her call. The woman drained her glass and dropped a bill on the counter. When Venus realized it was a hundred, she picked it up. “I’ll get your change.”

Sydney, however, refused. She ordered Venus to keep the change and get Nicole good and drunk. Then, with a cheery wave, she walked toward the door, easily moving out of Venus’s life as quickly as she’d moved into it.

Or, not so easily, considering her way out the door was blocked by someone coming in. A man. A big man. A big
chestnut-haired man with the kind of sexy grin that oughta be illegal.

Troy.

T
ROY WAITED
for the jolt of awareness that always shot through his body when an attractive female passed by. The redhead exiting Flanagan’s bar was certainly attractive—and knew it—but caused no familiar blast of heat to rush through him.

Only one woman did that now. The one standing behind the bar, looking ready to do one of two things: slug him, or jump on him. “Hi, Venus.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m thirsty,” he said as he slid onto a bar stool and tapped his fingers on the pitted wood surface of the bar. “What do you recommend? A Screaming Orgasm? Sex on the Beach?”

She smirked. “A Screaming Orgasm Up Against the Wall is always a good choice.”

He swallowed, hard. Damn, he’d missed the woman. “How about a Screaming Orgasm Up Against the Bathroom Counter? Or In the Pool?” His grin dared her to remember. Before she could say a word, however, they both heard a tiny wolf whistle from a dark-haired woman sitting at the bar. Troy had barely noticed her, though she was striking enough to garner attention on her own.

“Yep. Definitely oughta be illegal.” She nodded at Venus, then walked out.

“Who was that?”

“A new friend,” Venus said softly. “Now, why are you here?”

He answered with a question of his own. “Why did you leave?”

She busied herself pouring some unshelled peanuts into a wooden bowl. “What was the point of staying?”

“Maybe because Max wanted you to?” When she didn’t answer, he leaned closer. “Okay, how about because
I
wanted you to?”

She paused, not meeting his eye. “Did you want me to? Why?”

He sighed, wondering how such an intelligent woman could be so blind to her own appeal. Finally, tired of watching her pretend to swipe at the counter with her dingy rag, he grabbed her hand and made her stop. Then he waited until she met his eye. “Yes, I wanted you to. I told you I’m crazy about you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s nice. But I have my own life, back here. We knew I was going to have to leave sooner or later.”

“You could have stayed in Atlanta. With Max.” He hesitated, then pushed harder, wondering if she was any more ready to hear this than he was ready to say it. “Or with me.”

She raised a questioning brow. “You?”

“I moved into my own place Monday, between meetings with lawyers, the board and a P.I. It’s downtown, near a Marta stop and some great shopping.” He glanced around the pub and continued to try to tempt her. “There’s even an Irish bar.”

She nibbled one corner of her lip, moistening it with the tip of her pretty pink tongue. “You want me to live with you?”

He nodded. “There. Or here. I told Max I might be resigning from my job. It all depends on you.”