Sin and the Millionaire (8 page)

His smile widened. “I think you do. And you can't come up with a good reason not to love me.”

“We're very different people.”

“Isn't that what makes things interesting?”

“We're going into business together.”

“Yes, we are. And if I do something to piss you off, I'm certain I'll hear about it.”

“If we broke up, I'd still have to see you,” she said. That was a problem.

“If we broke up,” he said, his smile gone, “I'd never recover. Oh, I'd go on living, but the part of my heart you stole while you stood in this kitchen, singing those dumb show tunes, that part would be lost.”

“Duncan—”

“Let me finish. After Victoria's deception, I never wanted to be that foolish, that naïve again. I told you the divorce changed me. Truth is, if you hadn't had my back, I'm not sure it would have been for the better. I was angry, humiliated, and determined to prove I was no sucker. My behavior boarded on destructive. Then you came along. I've always known I was smart. You made me believe it was a good thing. You made me believe in myself.”

Before she knew it, he'd picked her up, spun her, and sat her on the island. Then he moved between her legs. “I said you stole my heart. Truth is I willingly gave it to you, knowing I might never get it back, because by doing so, you made me better. I'm not the same person who married Victoria, but because of it I've grown. You're not that same trusting kid. You're tougher, stronger, wiser. And you know it. But you're scared.”

“I've never been afraid of anything in my life.” She'd taken on what life dealt her and lived through it.

“You're afraid you don't fit into my world. Lizzy,
I
don't fit into my world. This house, this isn't me. And the most fun I've had spending my money is when you helped me redesign this kitchen. And the JCW.” He mumbled something else, but she must have heard him wrong.

“Excuse me, could you repeat what you just said?”

“Later. For now, can you at least admit you have feelings for me too?”

“Of course I have.”

“
Real
feelings. I know you do.”

“Think you're so smart.” She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile.

“I have a rocket scientist's brain. You said so. Now, if it makes you feel better, I'm willing to sign a relationship prenup. If we break up, I'll give you the company. It will be yours and you'll never have to see me again.”

“Cute, but I can't run this company without you,
and
this whole thing was your idea. I couldn't take it from you.” Even if he wasn't kidding, she wasn't Victoria.

He laughed. “Wow. Victoria couldn't wait to take everything from me and you aren't willing to take what I'd give you.”

“It wouldn't be fair.”

“Then you can buy me out,” he said, very sincerely.

“Fair market value?” she teased, trying not to laugh. Were they really negotiating the terms of their breakup? Before deciding if she'd even give them a chance?

“Wouldn't have it any other way. Do we have a deal?” He waited for her to shake his hand.

The doorbell rang, startling them both.

Chapter Eight

Duncan looked at his watch. “Who do you think it is?”

“Considering the late hour, my guess is the police. Didn't you say they'd brought Harris in for questioning? Maybe he confessed to killing Victoria.” Still, it could have waited until morning.

“Let's go see then.” He lifted her off the counter and onto her feet. “We'll table this discussion for later.”

Yes, she was certain they would. What exactly she was going to say was what stumped her. And as they made their way through the house and to the front door, Lizzy knew one thing for certain. Her feelings for him were beyond ‘like.'

Duncan opened the front to find Lieutenant Cooper standing there. “Lieutenant, come in.”

“Lizzy, I'm surprised to find you here,” Cooper said, his eyebrow quirked.

“I was actually on my way to Maggie's when you rang the bell.” It was only a half a lie. She
had
intended to sleep at Maggie's.

“Well, I'm glad you're both here. First, I'll need that flash drive you pilfered out of your wife's condo.”

“Actually, that's Duncan's condo.” In case the police got any ideas about charging him.

“I'll get it,” Duncan offered and left the foyer.

“Lizzy, you can relax. I know you're not sleeping with the guy. I had a chat with Maggie and she assured me nothing is going on between the two of you.”

Why did she suddenly feel like Rudolph in a snowstorm, a red beacon amongst all this white marble? Duncan thankfully returned quickly, putting the flash drive in the plastic bag the lieutenant held open.

“It's evidence,” Cooper said, answering their unspoken question.

“Did my finance officer confess to killing my wife?”

Lizzy wanted to wrap her arms around him and make him forget that Harris Turner was a backstabbing asshole.

“No. But Turner did admit to stealing the money. He's been charged and is awaiting arraignment in the morning.”

“Did he also admit to anyone helping him?” Duncan asked, his shoulders tense as he waited for Cooper to tell him yet another of his employees was a disloyal thief.

“That's why I'm here. I wanted you to hear it from me and not on the news in the morning. We've made an arrest for your wife's murder. Mr. Moore, it was Beth Ferguson.”

Silence.

“Duncan?” Lizzy was certain he'd heard the lieutenant, but from his blank stare he appeared too stunned to say anything. She couldn't blame him.

“We confirmed the DNA found under your wife's fingernails belonged to Mrs. Ferguson. She claims it's from the scuffle in your offices.”

“And you don't think it is,” he finally said.

“We considered it plausible, then Lizzy emailed the photos on this flash drive.” He lifted the plastic baggie. “You gave your office staff a trip to Fiji for New Year's Eve?”

“They work hard. It was a holiday bonus.”

“That's very generous of you. My boss gives us a tin of coffee. Anyway, the shots of Turner in bed with your wife, did you wonder who took those?”

“Lizzy and I questioned it, but I assumed they had a self-timing camera.”

“No. We were able to enhance the shot and pick up the mirror in the background.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a four-by-eight picture. “Do you know who this is?” He passed it to Duncan.

Lizzy glanced down at the grainy reflection of a man taking the sex shot.

Duncan let out a heavy sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Who is it?” Lizzy asked

“It's Tom Ferguson. Beth's husband. He too works for me.”

Damn
, that had to sting. Poor Beth.

“We questioned Turner a second time. He claims Mrs. Ferguson walked in on their threesome. He ended it with your wife shortly afterward because he couldn't look your secretary in the eyes every day when he walked into the office.”

“Funny, he didn't have any problem facing
me
every week.” Clearly it wasn't funny.

“Some people believe there's nothing wrong with stealing from those better off than themselves. We checked the tapes as you suggested. Mrs. Ferguson
did
go into the office on Friday. Looks like she forgot something at her desk.
That's
when she got into it with your wife. She found her sitting at your desk and they had a small catfight. Harris walked in on it and broke it up.”

“That might explain the earring I found,” Lizzy said.

“By any chance, do you still have it?” Cooper asked, sounding eager.

“I left it on your desk,” she told Duncan.

“Did
you
touch it?”

Duncan shook his head. “Only Lizzy.”

“Good. Can we go to your office and get it?”

“Sure.” Duncan led the way as Cooper took out another evidence bag. In the office, he bagged the earring and grinned. “Perfect.”

“Lieutenant, how does any of this prove Beth killed Victoria?”

“Do you know, Mr. Moore, I have to congratulate you on an excellent security system. Those cameras are state of the art.”

Lizzy felt the blood drain from her face as realization hit. They'd made love in his office. Duncan must have seen her reaction because the son of bitch snorted. She did her best not to glare at him, and if the lieutenant noticed anything between them, he said nothing. Exactly
who
had watched them go at each other like teenagers? She was mortified.

“Yes,” Duncan agreed. “State of the art. It doesn't record when the staff is in the office. Only when we shut down for the evening or weekend.”

Inwardly, Lizzy groaned.

“It's programmed to shut off once our codes are entered into the security number pad, so it knows we're in the building and on our way to our offices.”

If it's the last thing she did, she was going to make him pay for that. She gave him her sweetest smile. If he was as smart as everyone said he was, he'd be afraid, very afraid.

“So Mrs. Ferguson couldn't shut down the camera in your office because she didn't have your code. Is that right?”

“Right. And she probably didn't realize I'd engaged the one in my office.”

“Again, how does this prove she killed Victoria?” Lizzy asked.

“Their confrontation in Mr. Moore's office. It appeared that Mrs. Ferguson recognized the diamond earrings Victoria was wearing. She didn't realize she managed to tear one off, and that it had fallen on the carpet. That's when Turner walked in. It was clear as day. Great cameras,” he said, reiterating what a fantastic system Duncan had. “Your wife left with no visible scratch marks and unaware she'd lost an earring. After we talked to Turner, we had enough motive to search Mrs. Ferguson's house. She wore black the night of the gala and the dress had gone to the cleaners already, but she forgot about the shoes. They looked clean… except for the bottom. We found your wife's blood under her shoes. And”—he held up the bag—“the matching earring. They're questioning Mr. Ferguson as we speak, but I'm sure he'll corroborate his wife's claim that the earrings were a gift from him to her. She doesn't know we have the video of your wife wearing the earrings.”

“Those are over a carat,” Lizzy said, pointing to the bag. “What the hell does he do for you?” She knew Duncan was a generous employer, but those rocks had to be worth a fortune.

“He works with Harris.” Duncan shut his eyes. When he opened them, he was pissed. Having three employees stab you in the back would do that. “So sum this up for me.”

“Sure. Ferguson and Turner have been working together for about a year, skimming here and there, so no one could notice. Then the funds for this new app of yours start coming in… Turner does your books, Ferguson contracts. They have a sweet deal. Until Fiji mucks things up. Mr. Ferguson reports the earrings as stolen from the hotel, only he's the one who steals them and gives them to your wife. His way of apologizing for the scene his own wife caused when she caught the three of them together.” Cooper shook his head in disgust. “He's screwing another woman and he doesn't have any sympathy for his wife when she walks in on it. I'm going to enjoy raking his ass over the coals.”

“Then let me guess,” Lizzy said. “She confronts Victoria at the party?”

“It's the likely scenario. The press was there and I'm thinking your wife didn't want her affair with two men exposed. Plus as you said, she was trying to extort money out of you. She couldn't do that if someone else told you about the affair. She agrees to talk to Mrs. Ferguson privately. That late in the evening, the pool would have made a viable option. We found broken glass on the patio deck and in your wife's hair. The murder weapon we told you about was the remains of a broken wine bottle. It had your wife's blood on it.”

“So they fought? Was it murder or an accident?”

“No, sir, not an accident. If your wife had fallen in the pool, Mrs. Ferguson didn't help her get out. But as we said, we found blood under her shoe and traces on the deck. Her body was dumped in the pool and then the evidence tampered with. The camera in the hotel lobby caught Mrs. Ferguson leaving at 2:30.”

“And the earring?” Duncan asked.

“We found a photograph of your wife taken by one of the papers. She's wearing the earring.”

“So she kills my wife and takes the earring.”

“That's our theory. I'll let you know what happens once we're done questioning her. Right now there's enough evidence to charge her.”

“Thank you, lieutenant. I appreciate that.”

“Not a problem. And the two of you should get some sleep. You both look like you've been up for days.”

 

Duncan saw Lieutenant Cooper to the door while Lizzy threw herself onto one of the couches. If she shut her eyes, she'd be out in seconds. Yawning, she stretched from fingertips to toes and cuddled deeper into the overstuffed cushions. She could sleep for a week and still she didn't think it would be enough. She covered her mouth as another yawn overtook her.

“Breathe,” Duncan said.

“Breathe?”

“Yawning is our body's response to lack of oxygen. We get tired and we forget to breathe properly.”

“And what app told you that?”

“No app, my yoga teacher.”

“Yoga?”

He nodded, taking a seat beside her.

“As much as I am dying to know the when, where, and why of you taking yoga, I'm way too tired. Remind me to tease you tomorrow.”

“May I also remind you that you need to tell me you love me?”

“Tomorrow.” She let her head, too heavy for her neck to hold, fall onto his shoulder.

“Good. Lizzy?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes drifting close.

“It's tomorrow.”

“You're not going to let this go, are you?” She was too tired to argue and too tired to think straight.

“Lizzy?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you remember finding out your name was on my plane's manifest for Tahoe?”

Her eyes flew open. She'd completely forgotten about that. “Now I do.” Her first reaction was to rip out the hair of whomever he'd been planning to take to Tahoe. She brushed that wild notion off to exhaustion and then realized she was an idiot. Saying goodbye to the comfy couch, she sat up. “You'd planned to take me to Tahoe for Valentine's, without asking?”

“No, of course not.”

“You told your pilot you were.”

“I was planning ahead.”

“I see. And when had you
planned
to do the asking part?”

“I hadn't worked that out yet,” he said, looking far more confident than one should after admitting to plotting a romantic getaway without yet asking the woman.

This was not the Duncan she knew. It did odd things to her girlie parts. He did odd things to her and not just in a hot and bothered kind of way. She stared at him, all cute and rumpled, dark circles under his eyes proof they'd been up far too long and should be having this conversation after a good night's sleep. He was way too smart for her. Way too smart.

“Just how smart are you? Exactly what is your IQ?”

He shrugged, looking confused as to why she was asking. “You know those tests aren't accurate. A kid who's never seen a saucer doesn't know it goes with a teacup.”

“I take it your score was off the Richter scale?” Whatever she'd have scored, it wouldn't have compared squat to his.

“Scientists have proven three different tests are needed to accurately measure IQ.”

“You sound like you're embarrassed by how smart you are.” Brains never hurt anyone.

“Let's just say, being normal, or seen as normal, would have gone a long way when I was growing up.”

“You've made billions because of your brains.”

“No, I made money because I used my brains. You did the same thing back in Canada. You found yourself in a dilemma, you dealt with it and then got the hell out.”

“That doesn't make me smart.” If she'd been smart, she wouldn't have found herself in that situation in the first place.

“Sure it does. You're one of the smartest people I know.” He said it so seriously she almost believed he believed it. “Don't roll your eyes at me. It's true.”

“Duncan”—she couldn't
believe
she was admitting this—“I didn't finish high school.”

“So?” he said, not missing a beat. “Harris Turner has three degrees. Victoria graduated with a degree in liberal arts from Brown University. One is dead, the other going to jail.”