Just a Wish Away (5 page)

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Braden left the antique shop wondering what the hell had just happened. A couple of hours ago he'd been sitting in his apartment, nursing a beer, and pondering the path his life had taken. Then Drew's offer had sent him not just to the antique store but straight back into his past. And now he'd invited Alexa to dinner.

He couldn't believe it. What was he thinking? He'd wasted most of his adolescence being obsessed with Alexa. It had taken far too many years to get her out of his head. He didn't need her back in it. He had enough problems.

But seeing the fear and worry in her eyes had brought out his protective instincts. He wanted to help her, to make everything all right for her, just the way he always had. Not that he'd been successful at that when he was twelve. Her problems had been too big for him to handle then. But now there was a chance he could actually help her, and he couldn't walk away. He just had to make sure that he didn't let himself get caught up in the fairytale that she'd spun around him a long time ago.

Many years had passed since they'd roamed the beaches of Sand Harbor. He was a different person now. That idealistic boy was long gone. Maybe it was a good thing they were going to dinner. The more time they spent together, the sooner they'd both realize that their past was not going to be their future.

Drew was on the phone when Braden arrived. He took a seat in the chair next to Drew's desk, noting the empty cubicles in the room. Drew hadn't been lying when he'd said they were short-handed, but Braden was still suspicious about his friend's motives. Since running in to Alexa, he couldn't help wondering if Drew had had another reason for asking for his help.

"Did you deliberately set me up?" he asked when Drew ended the call.

"What are you talking about?" Drew asked warily.

"You knew she was going to be there, didn’t you?"

"Who?"

"Alexa," he said.

"Oh, right." Drew settled back in his creaky desk chair, crossing his arms. "I didn't actually know Alexa was in town when I saw you earlier. Evie told me that Alexa had arrived when I stopped by the hospital a short while ago. I was surprised Alexa was here. She hasn't been in Sand Harbor since she was a kid. I didn't think she kept in touch with her aunt."

"Apparently she does, and she's here."

Drew gave him a speculative look. "Does this mean you're out?"

He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could say yes, because that would be the smart thing to do. Unfortunately, when it came to Alexa, he'd never been smart. "No, I'm not out. I'm going to dinner with her."

A light sparked in Drew's eyes and he smiled. "No kidding?"

"Don't get any ideas," he warned. "She practically fainted when I saw her. She needs to eat, and I'm hungry. So we're going to have a meal together. That's it."

"Maybe she fainted because she saw you," Drew suggested.

"That wasn't it," he said shortly. Although he'd been so caught up in his own reaction to her, he could barely remember what she'd first said to him. Ignoring the interested gleam in Drew's eyes, he changed the subject. "Have you learned anything new since we last spoke?"

"No. I was hoping you were here to give me a lead."

"Alexa told me her aunt received a substantial shipment from the Wellbourne estate yesterday. It seems like an interesting connection."

"I agree, but Jack Wellbourne lived alone in the beach house the last couple of years. If someone wanted something, why wait until the contents were delivered to an antique shop? They could have broken into the house at any time."

"That's true." But despite the logic of Drew's response, Braden wasn't completely sold. The timing of the delivery and the break-in seemed too coincidental, and he'd never been one to believe in coincidence. "What about other Wellbournes? Is there anyone in the family who might have wanted those items?"

"Jack divorced his second wife about six years ago, Roberta Wellbourne. She was a lot younger than Jack, by about fifteen years. She's now single and the campaign strategist for Daniel Stone. In fact, she came by the department yesterday afternoon to discuss security concerns for the fundraising event."

"So you spoke to her before the break-in?" It was interesting that Roberta had just arrived back in town.

"Yes, but she didn't seem to be revving up to rob the antique store," Drew said dryly. "It was all about politics. She was very concerned with making sure that Daniel gets a good launch here in Sand Harbor. Apparently, she's using her old Wellbourne ties to bring out the local money."

"Didn't Jack have some kids?"

"Two sons with his first wife, Laura. She passed on when his kids were little. The men are in their mid thirties now. I've contacted both of them. Neither one of them said they had any problems with the distribution of their father's belongings. They're both wealthy in their own right and apparently inherited a great deal of money, according to the lawyer I also spoke to. One of the sons told me he thought their father was in love with Phoebe, so it wasn't surprising that he left her some trinkets."

"It looked like more than a few trinkets," he said. "There are a lot of items. Did the attorney provide a list of what was shipped to the shop?"

"No, apparently the pieces were put in boxes some years ago and stored in the attic, each one marked for delivery to the store, but there was no itemized list."

"That doesn't help."

"No, it doesn't."

"Who found Phoebe and called for help?" he asked, as it occurred to him that there might be someone else to talk to.

"Edwin Hayes."

"The Chief of Police?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes. The chief is a neighbor and a very close friend of Phoebe's. They spend a lot of time together. She told him she was going to get a head start on the unpacking and after he got off work, he went by to help her. Unfortunately, he got there a little late."

"He didn't see anything or anyone?"

"No, and he knows how to review a crime scene. He made sure that we did a thorough sweep of the shop and the surrounding area. He is very determined to find out who did this. That's why he was all right with me bringing you in. And I'm glad I did." Drew paused, a knowing gleam in his eyes. "Because you're getting interested in this case. You're talking like an investigator."

"I always liked puzzles," he admitted.

"Especially when you were working them with Alexa," Drew pointed out.

"Don't start."

"So what does she look like? Better or worse than you expected?"

"I'm sure you'll see her," he said, getting to his feet.

"You're not going to give me anything?"

"No."

"Where are you going to eat?"

"La Cantina."

"Watch the margaritas. They can be deadly, especially where hot blondes are concerned."

"I never said she was a hot blonde."

Drew laughed. "But she is, isn't she?"

He frowned. "Are you sure you didn't set me up?"

"I wish I'd thought of it. It would have been a hell of a good idea." Drew's expression turned more somber. "Kinley treated you like shit. After everything you went through, you didn't deserve –"

He cut Drew off with a wave of his head. "You don't know what I deserved."

"You're going to defend Kinley?" Drew asked in amazement.

"She did what she had to do. And I'm doing what I have to do. Leave it alone." The last thing he wanted to think about was his marriage, especially right before he was going to see the one woman he'd always thought he'd marry.

Chapter Three

La Cantina was busy for a Wednesday night. There was a twenty-first birthday party, some singles chatting it up at the bar, and a dining room filled with families. Alexa put in her name with the hostess, snagged a stool at the less crowded end of the bar and ordered a margarita. She wasn't a big drinker, but tonight she needed something to take the edge off. It had been a long, emotional day, worrying about her aunt, seeing the destruction in the shop and then running into Braden again.

It was silly to be nervous about having dinner with him. This was the kid she'd shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with. But she couldn't deny the rapid beat of her pulse or her sweaty palms. Braden had grown up to be a very sexy, masculine man, and even if she hadn't known him as a kid, she would have been attracted to him. She couldn't imagine a woman that wouldn’t be, although he might have to work a little on his charm. She wondered if he was that moody and angry with everyone or just with her. He'd definitely been tense during their conversation.

The bartender set down a very large margarita, and she took a grateful sip, enjoying the slide of the icy blend down her throat. Looking around the restaurant, she tried to distract herself by people watching. She wondered if any of the other patrons were people she'd known in her past, kids that had grown up to get married and have children of their own. But no one in the immediate vicinity looked at all familiar, until Braden walked in.

She drew in a quick breath, feeling like she'd taken another punch to the stomach.

"You got a head start," Braden said, joining her at the bar.

"I was thirsty."

"Sorry if I kept you waiting."

"You didn't. I just got here a few minutes ago."

"How's your aunt?"

"No change. She's still asleep. I ran into Evie at the hospital and a half dozen of my aunt's friends in the waiting room. They're pretty much doing a round-the-clock vigil, so if she does wake up, someone will be there. I always knew Aunt Phoebe was popular, but I didn't realize how many people are devoted to her. It's very impressive."

"Part of living in a small town. People care about each other. The flip side is that everyone wants to be in your business."

"We're not talking about my aunt any more, are we?" she said knowingly.

"No, we're not. Where is that bartender?" he muttered.

"Are people getting in your business, Braden?"

"They're certainly trying."

Before she could say more, the hostess called her name.

"We're up," she said.

"Great, I'm starving."

Alexa took her drink with her as the hostess led them to a table in the back of the restaurant. The young woman handed them some menus and told them their server would be with them in a moment. A busboy followed, dropping off chips and salsa and two glasses of water.

Alexa sipped her margarita, both relieved and uncomfortable with the quiet. It would be easier for them to talk here, but did she really want to talk? Braden had been a shadowy image in her head for a long time. She didn't really know what to say to the real, live version of him. And he was touchy. She sensed it wouldn’t take much to set off the smoldering fire in his eyes.

Braden suddenly put his hand over hers, stilling her rapidly drilling fingers.

Their eyes met.

He smiled. "Some things don’t change."

The heat from his fingers warmed her all the way through – or maybe that was the tequila in her margarita. "Sorry, bad habit," she said, pulling her hand away.

"I remember."

"So this place wasn't here when I was a kid. It was something else," she said, changing the subject. "It was a diner, wasn't it?"

"With really bad food," Braden said. "It went out of business when I was in high school. This restaurant opened up a few years later." He paused. "Why are you nervous?"

"The robbery, my aunt's injuries … you. This is so weird, Braden."

He nodded in agreement. "When I got up this morning, I didn't expect to end up having dinner with you."

"Me either. I can't get over how old you are."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

"I didn't mean it in a negative way. You've just been frozen in time in my head, and I'm not used to this new, adult you. Look at us, we're drinking alcohol."

"Well, you are. I'm still looking for a waiter."

"You know what I mean."

"It
is
strange," he conceded. "The last time I had a drink with you was at my cousin Mary's wedding. We sneaked champagne into the garage when no one was looking."

"And I hated the taste of it," she said, remembering those tiny bubbles from a long time ago. "I pretended that I liked it, because I wanted to be cool, but I thought it was disgusting."

"So did I," he said.

"You chugged it."

"Because it was disgusting," he replied with a small smile.

This was the old Braden, the one she'd shared secrets with, her best friend. Her heart warmed as she gazed back at him. "I thought you liked it."

"I wanted to be cool, too."

"Did you learn to like it?"

"Never. What about you?"

She shook her head. "On my 21
^st
birthday, my date bought me a really expensive bottle of champagne, and I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't like it."