Fatal Trust (12 page)

“Nice to see you in person, Lexie,” J.P. said, walking
toward her. “I figured I’d have to leave you a message. I was in the area and
thought I’d stop by since I don’t have your cell phone number. Not that I
couldn’t have got your number even if it’s unlisted, but I respect people’s
privacy.”

“This is J.P. Jackson,” Lexie told Ben. “I told you I talked
to him before. This is Ben.”

A muscle twitched in Ben’s clenched jaw. “What do you want?”

“Relax,” J.P. said, holding up both hands. “I’m here to
thank you. I heard about what you both did last night to keep Dylan from ending
up in jail and losing his share of his grandfather’s fortune. I also wanted to
give you something.” He reached into his pocket, then handed Lexie a business
card for J.P.’s Construction and Cement Work, located in Thunder Bay. A phone
number was hand-written under the printed one. “That’s my cell phone. Like I
told you, Lexie, I never forget a favor. If either of you ever needs my help,
call. Anytime, day or night.”

“We appreciate that,” Lexie said.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep watching out for Dylan.”

“We will. Thank you.”

J.P. nodded, then turned to Ben. “You be good to this one.
She’s a keeper.” He winked. “I hear she does a hell of a pole dance.”

“Did we just get a mafioso’s private number?” Ben asked when
J.P. had gotten into his car and pulled away.

“I told you he’s just a Mafia wannabe. That’s probably why
he keeps coming here himself—he figures being associated with Max Windsor will
get the Mafia’s respect.”

“Or because Dylan owes him a hell of a lot,” Ben said.
“Thank God we’re on his good side. I don’t want to find out firsthand what kind
of cement work he does.”

Lexie looked at the card for a minute, and then shook her
head. “A week ago I was a respectable Philadelphia lawyer handling mundane trust
and estate cases. Now I’m apparently living someone else’s life.”

“I’ll bet you’re having a lot more fun.”

“It’s different.” To be honest, she was so far out of her
comfort zone she wasn’t sure what she was feeling.

“You’re right that I’m biased against Jeremy,” Ben said.
“It’s not just because we haven’t gotten along since junior high.” He let out a
long breath. “Jeremy had an affair with my wife.”

“Cecilia told me.”

“That’s why I see him as the most likely to commit murder, I
guess, because of what he did to me. That’s also why I got so upset when you
went out with him, since he’ll think he’s stolen another woman away from me.”
Ben looked down at the grass. “I know you’re not really my girlfriend, but my
ego would appreciate it if you didn’t take up with Jeremy until we’ve gotten
this resolved.”

Lexie’s eyes widened. She’d dismissed Ben’s issues with
Jeremy over her as simple male competition. It had never occurred to her that
his ego might also be involved, probably because he seemed supremely confident
when it came to women. “I don’t plan on getting involved with Jeremy at any
time,” she said. “He isn’t my type.”

“Your type isn’t handsome, rich, intelligent, and
successful?”

“Usually, but something about Jeremy is a little too
smooth,” she admitted. Spending the afternoon with him had clarified the reason
he didn’t appeal to her. “My bullshit meter goes wild around him.”

“You have a bullshit meter?”

“Try practicing law without one.” Memory twisted her lips.
“Although it occasionally malfunctions, since I didn’t have a clue my ex was
cheating on me.” If Ben trusted her enough to share his insecurities, she could
do the same. “The reason I hate massages? Because my surgeon husband left me
for a twenty-three-year-old massage therapist. You know what it’s like for a
lawyer to be left for a massage therapist? Not that I’m a snob, but a lot of
people I know are,” she added quickly. “And Deidre’s twelve years younger than
me and so perky and sweet I’m tempted to douse her with water to see if she melts.”

“Like the witch in
The
Wizard of Oz
.”

“I was thinking more like a sugar cube, but the witch
analogy works for me, too.”

“Divorce sucks.”

“You’ve got that right,” she said. “Look, you don’t have to
take me sailing. I won’t go boating again with Jeremy.”

“Have you ever been sailing?”

She shook her head.

“Grandfather would never forgive me if I didn’t make sure
you experienced it. He loves sailing as much as I do. I mean he loved sailing.”
Ben grimaced. “I’m still having problems accepting he’s gone.”

“Do you have time to analyze what we’ve learned about his
murder now?”

He glanced at his watch. “Let’s do it after dinner. I know
you’d hate to be late for sherry hour.”

They didn’t get around to it after dinner because mid-meal
Ben was called into work to do an emergency car repair for the mayor, who was
driving to Minneapolis for a conference the next morning.

As Lexie watched Ben leave, however, she realized she didn’t
need his help. This was her decision—okay, it was technically the trustee’s, but
First Trust would follow her advice. She ran upstairs and grabbed her notes, a
fresh legal pad, and sat cross-legged on the bed.

Two hours later she was even more convinced they had
absolutely nothing, not even clear evidence a murder had been committed, let
alone who’d committed it. Everyone had a theoretical motive, but she couldn’t
believe anyone would have been desperate enough to kill Max instead of
approaching him for help. Everyone also could have hired a killer, if not done
the deed personally, but she couldn’t believe anyone would have done either.

That’s why she was wrong for this investigation, because she
couldn’t contemplate that anyone who wasn’t a complete monster would ever
commit a murder. This case needed someone who had experience with seemingly
nice people who’d been driven to do horrible things. She didn’t need to discuss
this with Ben. Tomorrow she was going back to Philadelphia. And the trustee was
hiring a P.I.

She booked an afternoon flight out of Duluth. Then she went
to bed.

Lexie woke abruptly, opening her eyes in the total
blackness, her heart hammering. It must have been a nightmare, one she couldn’t
remember even though it must have scared her to death. She glanced at the
clock: 11:47. She closed her eyes again.

“I’m counting on you to find out who killed me.”

Her blood turned to ice. “Who is it?” she asked,
unnecessarily, since she knew that distinctive voice.

“You know who I am, Catherine. Just remember the money is
the key. Because I really was murdered.”

She was finally alert enough to think to switch on the
bedside lamp. For an instant she swore she saw Max Windsor standing across the
room by the dresser, studying her.

But it couldn’t be. She blinked twice.

When she focused on the spot by the dresser again, it was
empty.

She’d been dreaming. That had to be it. Analyzing everything
possibly relevant to identifying Max’s murderer—including the ghost
appearance—had triggered a nightmare.

Except she was wide-awake now, and she was positive she’d
been equally wide-awake when she’d seen Max and he’d spoken to her. But that
was impossible. Max was dead, and despite what she’d suggested to Ben, she
really didn’t believe in ghosts. So what had just happened?

Of course.
She hopped out of bed,
stormed to Ben’s room, and pounded on the door.

“What?” he asked from behind her. He was dressed in a black
T-shirt, jeans, and Nikes. She caught a whiff of motor oil.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“I just got back from work. Why?”

“You know darn well why.” She grabbed his arm and dragged
him into her bedroom, then shut the door. “I just saw Max, who assured me he
was murdered. What do you know about that?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I told you yesterday that I don’t believe Max was murdered,
and I’m thinking about leaving. Then tonight I coincidentally get a visit from
Max. Or more likely, a holograph of Max that you created.”

“You honestly think I know how to create a holograph?”

“You’re good at mechanical things.”

“Like making a holograph is the same as fixing a
transmission,” Ben said. “I’m flattered by your high opinion of my abilities,
but anything like that is way beyond me. I think you were dreaming, and it was
your subconscious talking. You feel guilty you’re considering running away
without solving this thing.”

“I was awake, and I saw Max in my room,” Lexie said. “He
told me he really was murdered and that the money is the key to who did it. The
point obviously was to convince me to stick around and keep investigating your
great-aunt and cousins, which is what you want me to do. Of course you were
responsible.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Ben said firmly. “You must
have dreamed it. Or maybe it really was Grandfather.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m serious.” He held out his hands, palms up. “I’m willing
to entertain the possibility you truly saw my grandfather. Maybe he somehow
knows you’re getting frustrated and appeared to reassure you he was murdered so
you’ll stick around. He could plan a return appearance with more information if
we don’t figure it out ourselves. Grandfather was always big on pacing.”

“Or maybe he doesn’t know who killed him,” Lexie said.
“Being dead might not make you omniscient.”

“Does this mean you believe he was murdered and plan to
stay?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ll let you know in the
morning.”

“I don’t think you should stay alone in here tonight,” Ben
said.

“Why not? Even if it
was
Max’s
ghost, he certainly doesn’t want to hurt me.”

“The murderer might have figured out your identity and set
up a holograph to scare you back to Philadelphia.”

“By creating a holograph in which Max confirms he was
murdered?” Lexie asked. “That would be pretty dumb.”

“I think I should stay with you,” Ben said. “Grandfather
would never forgive me if I left you alone and something happened to you.”

“Your grandfather’s dead, for God’s sake. And nothing’s
going to happen to me.”

Ben raked his fingers through his hair. “Of course nothing’s
going to happen to you.”

“Then why are you pretending?”

“Because I don’t want to leave. Because you look so damn
sexy in that T-shirt that I’m having a hell of a time keeping my hands off you.
Because although it pisses me off, I really want to make love to you.”

Lexie stared at him as her stomach somersaulted.

Ben’s mouth twisted ruefully. “I’ll take that as a no. At
least I have the satisfaction of managing to leave a lawyer speechless.” He
turned and started out of the room.

Her brain told her hormones to cool it. Instead her body
heated. “Although it annoys me more than you can imagine, I seem to feel the
same way.”

He stopped. Then he turned and started back toward her, a
corner of his mouth quirking. “Admit it. It more than annoys you. It pisses you
off as much as it does me.”

“All right, it pisses me off,” Lexie said. “I don’t sleep
with a guy unless we’re in a relationship. Which is never going to happen with
us, even if I hadn’t sworn off relationships.”

“True,” Ben said. He reached out and fingered her loose
hair. “I swore I’d never sleep with another smart professional like my ex-wife.
But we’ve got a problem here. There’s a lot of sexual tension between us, and
because we’re fighting it, we’re building it up in our minds.” His fingers
moved from her hair to her neck, then slowly down the front of her T-shirt.
“It’s probably interfering with our ability to find Grandfather’s murderer. If
we’d just have sex once, we’d get it out of our systems and realize it wasn’t
that big a deal.” He fondled her breast through the thin cotton. “Then we’ll be
able to focus all our attention on the murder.”

“Sounds like a line to me,” Lexie said, trying to ignore the
way her body quivered and softened under his touch. This was a bad idea on so
many levels. “A creative one, I’ll admit, but I don’t fall for lines. Rule 79.”
She said the words without one iota of conviction.

Ben moved toward her, and then kissed her. Between the heat
and her hammering heart, she was breathless when he finally released her and
barely got out the words. “To hell with Rule 79.”

He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound making her nerve
endings sizzle. Then he was kissing her again. The smooth pressure of his lips
and tongue had her mind spinning until she couldn’t think, could only feel. His
hands stroked her T-shirted back, and then he yanked the T-shirt over her head
so she was naked except for her silk panties. He moved away for a moment, his
eyes slowly raking over her body. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he said.

Insecurity reared its head, and Lexie covered her breasts
with her arm. “I’m a lot older than your last girlfriend.” And than her
husband’s new wife.

He moved her arm away. “You’re obviously like a fine wine
that gets better with age.”

Her arm returned, and she rolled her eyes. “Another line,
and a dumb one at that.”

Ben moved her arm away again, this time directing her hand
to his straining erection. She could feel its hard heat through his jeans. “I
obviously meant it. Looking at you must have drained my brain of all
creativity.” He reached out and stroked her breasts.

If he was lying, so what? He still wanted her, and she
wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone. “That was better.”

His lips fastened on one of her breasts, sucking her nipple
hard enough that she felt the sensation deep in her pelvis.

“Much better,” she murmured as he switched to her other
breast. He reached down to her panties, but she pushed his hand away. “I’m not
going to be nude while you’re fully clothed.”

His slow smile made her shiver. “We can take care of that.”
He pulled his T-shirt over his head as she tried to unbuckle his belt. She’d
barely started when he put his hands over hers. “I can do it faster.” In
seconds he’d discarded his jeans and briefs.

“Now you’re the one who’s overdressed,” he said, pulling off
her panties. They pooled at her feet, and she kicked them off.

He kept kissing her as he backed her up until she was
against the bed, and then urged her down onto the smooth sheets. He moved on
top of her and kissed the valley between her breasts. Then his tongue and lips
began working their way down her body, down her chest, then her abdomen, then
lower. He paused, his lips close enough that she could feel his hot breath on
her. He lowered his mouth to kiss her, teasing her with his tongue as she
arched and moaned on the bed. Then he closed his lips around her and sucked.

“Oh.” That was the only thing Lexie could get out as her
body spasmed in the biggest orgasm of her life, uncoiling with a force that
shook her. She felt like she was flying, sparks and heat erupting like the
grand finale at a Fourth of July fireworks display.

Ben moved up her body again and kissed her. She could taste
herself on his lips.

Maybe it was just her competitive spirit, but she wanted to
make him feel the same. “My turn,” she said, closing her fingers around him. He
felt like hot iron.

He grabbed her hand. “Not now, or this is going to be over
too soon. And I need to be inside you.” He grabbed a condom from his jeans
pocket, ripped open the package with his teeth, and put it on. Then he rolled
over and pulled her on top of him. “Since you’re supposedly a stripper, I’d
like a lap dance.”

“I thought pole dancing was my specialty.”

He grinned. “That works for me, too. And don’t tell me this
isn’t the type of pole you meant.”

She looked down at his erection and laughed.

“Not the reaction I was hoping for,” Ben said.

“You can’t pull off false modesty, so don’t bother trying.”
He was definitely impressive. She ran one finger down him. “Although size
doesn’t matter.”

“And men like Hooters for their hot wings,” Ben said. “I
heard that in a country song. That’s not really why men like Hooters.”

“What a surprise,” she said, laughing again. Then she
positioned herself, her body stretching and throbbing as she lowered herself
onto him.

She looked down into his eyes. They were dark, intense. “I’ve
never seen anyone do a lap or pole dance,” she said. “What do I do next?”

“Brace yourself on my shoulders.” His voice was a low
rumble. “Then you move.”

She leaned forward enough so she could rest her hands on his
shoulders, and then flexed her knees as she moved up and down his length a few
times. “Like this?”

“Exactly like that.” He put his hand on her back and urged
her forward so his lips could fasten on her nipple.

She moved faster.

He sucked on her nipple, and then caught it lightly between
his teeth as he reached between them and rubbed her with the pad of his thumb.
She could feel another orgasm building, building, then exploding inside her.
She heard someone scream—it must have been her, although she’d never screamed
during sex before. Ben bucked hard beneath her, and then pulled her down on top
of him, her head resting on his chest.

She had no idea how long they lay there, panting together,
before Ben finally spoke.

“I was right. You do a hell of a pole dance.”

“I need to shower,” Ben said, slipping out from under the
covers a while later and grabbing his clothes. “I’m a mess from work.” He
brushed his lips over hers. “I’ll be back soon.” He stood up beside the bed and
grabbed his clothes.

An alarm sounded somewhere in her brain, and she pulled the
sheet over her. “I thought we were just doing it once to get it out of our
systems,” Lexie said.

“How’s that working for you?”

“Not so well,” she admitted. She couldn’t remember sex ever
being so hot and intense, which was surprising since she’d never laughed and
joked during sex before. She’d always considered sex serious, but Ben had shown
her it could be fun. That didn’t make it right, though. Actually, most things
that were fun ended up being somehow bad for you.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she said. She kept her gaze on
his face, since looking at his muscular chest and equally impressive lower half
might destroy her resolve.

“Of course we can,” Ben said. “I’m a mechanic who loves
living in a small town. You’re a Philadelphia lawyer. It would never work
between us, which makes this perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“Yep.” He stroked her neck, raising goose bumps. “It’s more
of your vacation mentality while you’re pretending to be Lexie.” He moved his
fingers under the sheet and stroked her breasts. “View it as a vacation fling
that we agree will end the instant you go home.”

“I don’t have flings.” She could feel her resolve fading.

“But I created Lexie, and trust me, she loves flings.” He
leaned over and kissed her, making the last of her resolve evaporate. “Get some
sleep until I get back. You’re going to need your energy. I’m not just creative
when it comes to lines.”

“How would you like to go for an early morning sail on
Forest Lake?” Ben asked.

Lexie opened her eyes and glanced at the clock. Six minutes
after five. It felt as if she’d just gone to sleep. Maybe she had—Ben was right
about his creativity.

“Isn’t it too dark to go sailing?” she asked.

“The sun will be up soon,” Ben said. “There’s nothing like
being on the water at dawn, the colors, the peace and quiet, everything. And I
promised to take you out today.”

What she’d really like was to spend more time in bed with
Ben, but she didn’t want him thinking his skill had turned her into a
nymphomaniac. His ego in that regard was big enough already. “Okay. I need to
shower first.”

“The boat’s in the storage shed, so it will take me at least
half an hour to get it ready. Then I’ll come back and get you. That will also
give you time to have coffee before we go.” He traced his finger around her
nipple. It pearled immediately. “Unless you want to stay in bed. I’m up for
that, too.”

“I’d much rather go sailing,” she said.

He chuckled. “Liar. I’ll see you soon.”

Lexie was downstairs in sixteen minutes, having showered,
pulled her wet hair back into a ponytail, and dressed in nearly record time.
Despite the little sleep she’d had, she was so wide-awake that for the first
time she could remember she didn’t need caffeine to function. Good sex must be
energizing.

She was far too antsy to sit around waiting for Ben, so she
decided to go find him. Maybe she could help with something. She went into the
kitchen and grabbed one of the half-dozen flashlights she knew were kept in the
pantry. After checking to make sure it worked, she headed for the front door.