What a Rich Woman Wants (13 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Lesley stared at the ceiling in the darkness of her bedroom, fighting a war with herself she knew she was going to lose. Truth: a war she
wanted
to lose. Decisively she flipped the covers back and crossed to her walk-in closet. She donned a light cotton shift dress and sandals and let herself out the side door of her suite, one that had an alarm code all its own and wasn't connected to the main system. She'd purposely left her car parked under the porte cochere instead of in the garage.

Anticipation and excitement thrummed inside her as she steered the Lexus to the end of the drive and through the gates.

Thirteen minutes later she parked behind Niko's Acura. His street was quiet and dark except for the streetlamps at either end of the block and a few shaded windows with light glowing behind them. Her dashboard clock read one fifteen.

She locked the car, the beep of the alarm seeming extra loud in the quiet night. At his door she knocked firmly, feeling almost sick with nerves. A couple of minutes passed before she saw movement in the side panel. The deadbolt turned. The moment the door opened she went for him, shoving the door closed behind her. She barely heard him flip the deadbolt home.

She plastered herself against him, every sense she had coming alive at once. Niko guided her back to the bedroom while they kissed. By the time they reached the bed, he'd slid the zipper of her dress all the way down, and a slight tug sent it to the floor.

She hadn't bothered with a bra and her sandals were easily toed off. Niko wore only a pair of cotton boxers, which made them exactly even.

In her excitement Lesley almost forgot to breathe. All she knew was that she needed Niko right now, and he obliged her, fucking her hard and fast, exactly the way she wanted.

They lay next to each other panting afterward. The ceiling fan whirred overhead in lazy circles, doing little to cool the heat they'd created. Lesley waited for the crash of regret to wash over her, but it didn't come. This was the third time she'd done this, shown up at Niko's house in the dead of night. He hadn't turned her away, hadn't asked why she was there. She'd come after him as soon as he opened the door, and he'd responded.

She needed sex. That's what she told herself. Sex with a man she liked. Sex with a man she was attracted to. Sex with a man who could keep it simple, who didn't ask questions, who could be discreet.

Lesley smiled to herself thinking how lucky she'd been to find Niko. That he'd been so willing to serve as her escort. That he welcomed her into his bed.

Without a word Niko left the room. A few minutes later she heard the whir of the refrigerator and ice plinking into a glass, then another, lower hum of water from the same source. Niko returned with the glass. He drank some and then offered it to her.

“Thanks,” she whispered, sipping some and giving the glass back to him. He set it on the nightstand and lay next to her without touching her. He tucked his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling. Lesley frowned. This was not normal Niko behavior. Usually after the first quick go-round and a brief resting period, Niko began what she'd come to think of as his lovemaking ritual. Lots of stroking exploration, lots of skin-to-skin contact and mouth-to-skin contact while they both got worked up again.

Something was different tonight. A weird kind of tension had settled in the air between them. Lesley was aware of it but she didn't like it. Niko's bedside clock told her it was nearly two. She had about another hour, hour and a half max before she needed to leave. The very last thing she wanted was for anyone to discover where she was going or what she was doing when she left the house in the middle of the night.

Her visits to Niko were her secret. And his, she supposed. She'd never expressly told him to keep it a secret. She'd simply assumed that he had. That he would. Did she need to ensure his continued silence?

She slid across the narrow space between them and pressed herself against his side. She did what he usually did to her. Caressed his chest, across the flat abs and along his side, the tops of his thighs. She still hadn't asked about his tattoos, but she was in no mood for conversation. He stirred, but she avoided direct contact with his cock. She angled her head under his arm and kissed his throat, his neck, just under his ear, sinking her teeth into his earlobe and tugging.

His arms came around her and he kissed her deeply, their tongues fighting a war of their own. The tension between them that Lesley had sensed earlier dissolved. They made love in the real sense of the words, giving and taking until they were both sated. Lesley felt as though her bones were melting into the bed as she lay close to Niko afterward, his arm and one of his legs flung across her.

She didn't want to leave. She never wanted to leave. Each time she was in his bed, the last thing she wanted to do was get dressed and go home. But she had no choice. She wiggled out from under his limbs, smiling when he squeezed her thigh before he let her go.

In the dark she found her panties and her dress and put them on. Then her sandals. She bent over the bed and kissed Niko's temple. She didn't know if he was still awake or not. She sighed, fighting that war with herself again, wishing with all her heart she could get back into bed with him and stay there until morning.

On tiptoe she made her way down the hall, released the deadbolt and closed the door as quietly as she could behind her.

Three hours later Niko opened one eye to glare at his alarm clock, as if that would be enough to stop its insistent beeping. No such luck. He reached out and slammed the snooze button with an open palm, sank back into his pillow and closed his eyes.

The last thing he wanted to do was get up, get dressed and report for his eight o'clock shift. Lesley's visit had robbed him of much needed sleep and left him pleasantly exhausted.

At the same time, he wasn't entirely pleased with the turn their relationship had taken. She seemed to think after that first time that she could show up whenever she chose and be serviced by him. Of course she thought that. Because that's exactly what he'd been doing.

What was he supposed to do, he asked himself, rearranging his pillow and turning his back on his alarm clock. It wasn't like he didn't want to have sex with Lesley Robinson. He just hadn't thought it would happen and certainly not the way it had happened, with her on the offensive like that. He'd never have made a move on her. Would he? Probably not. She was out of his league and they both knew it. A thought that hadn't rankled before, but it sure did now.

He pounded a fist against the mattress in frustration. He'd never be on equal footing with Lesley. He could allow her to use him, he supposed, or he could stand up to her and tell her in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to be her stud horse any more. He should have said something to her last night. He'd been going to, but then she'd sidled up next to him and touched him, kissed him, the heat of her naked body sending signals he couldn't ignore. Afterward he hadn't had the energy, nor had he wanted to spoil the mood their lovemaking had created.

But soon, he decided, he'd have to lay it on the line with Lesley. He was pretty sure she wasn't going to like it. But then, he reminded himself as he turned off the alarm clock and got out of bed, neither was he.

Chapter Fourteen

Lesley looked at the phone while it rang. She'd been ready to call it a day, ready to sneak out a little early, have a glass of wine before dinner. Try to unwind. The calls she didn't answer would be forwarded to the small downtown office. She glanced at her watch. Probably the staff there had already left for the day, and the caller would get a recorded message asking to try again during normal business hours. Against her better judgment, she pressed the button for line one and picked up. “Lesley Robinson.”

“Lesley. Hi. I'm glad I caught you.”

“Who is this?”

“It's—it's Steven.”

Lesley didn't want to think about what it meant that she didn't recognize the voice of a man she'd once loved, a man she'd thought she'd spend the rest of her life with. “Steven. What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you. I thought we could get together. Have a drink or something.”

“I have nothing to say to you and no desire to have a drink with you. If that's all—”

“It's about Maria.”

There weren't too many things Steven could have said that would stop her cold, but Maria was one of them. “What about her?” She strove to keep her tone neutral and only mildly curious.

“She's been to see me.”

Lesley waited.

“She's made threats.”

“What kind of threats?”

“I'd rather not discuss it over the phone. Meet me at McCabe's in half an hour.”

“Steven, I don't want to—” He'd hung up. Lesley stared at the receiver in her hand. “Dammit,” she whispered in frustration. Just like Steven to leave her hanging, feeling like he'd got the upper hand. Apparently, Maria wasn't going to give up on whatever it was she'd come back for. The woman was going to make her life miserable just as she had six years ago.

Lesley paused inside the door to McCabe's Irish Pub. It was downtown, next to a gourmet seafood restaurant. Its outdoor seating area looked over the courtyard in front of the Willow Bay Playhouse. The pub itself was nothing special, but it catered to a certain clientele, mostly young executives who spent their days staring at contracts or managing trust funds and who only wanted a cold beer and a big-screen television tuned to any sport playing at the moment.

Steven was in a booth near the back. He'd already ordered a beer. Lesley made her way to him and slid into the seat across from him. He half rose from his seat as she sat down. Why did he bother, she wondered, pretending to have respect for her. He'd walked all over her and she'd thrown him out of her life. Why couldn't he just stay there?

“What would you like?” he asked as a young female server in a tight green McCabe's tee-shirt approached.

“Perrier with lime, please,” she told the girl. Lesley faced Steven. He looked away first, feigning interest in the soccer match on the screen behind the bar. Her drink arrived and the server left.

Steven turned his attention back to Lesley. She poured the water into the glass and took a sip, enjoying the crisp, refreshing bubbles.

“You knew she was back,” Steven began.

“Yes.”

He turned his beer glass round and round on the square coaster. “She came to see me a couple of months ago with this cockamamie story about your dad.”

“What story?”

“That he's her father.”

Lesley tried not to let her surprise show. She'd spent years learning to school her features into a calm mask, never to let anyone see what she was thinking or feeling. She used that mask at everything from board meetings to business dinners. She had no intention of letting her mask slip in front of her ex-husband.

“Go on.”

“I told her it was bullshit, and even it were true, which I don't think for one minute that it is, she'd never be able to prove it, that you'd never allow her to get close enough to Richard to prove it.”

So that's why she wanted to see my father. That's why she left that picture with me.

“You're right about that,” Lesley told him. She took another sip of her water.

“She asked for my help.”

Lesley narrowed her eyes at him. “How does she think you can help her?”

“God knows. Because I'm a lawyer? Because she thinks I'd want to help her because of our past? She offered to share whatever she got with me.”

“Whatever she got? From my family, you mean? I hope you told her what she'd be sharing with you is half of nothing.”

“Basically, yes, that's what I told her. But she keeps coming around, pushing, prodding, insisting that she's Richard's daughter, insisting she's owed her share of your family's fortune.”

Lesley sat back, pretending to be relaxed. “But as you said, she'd have to prove it first.”

Steven took a drink of his beer and contemplated the tabletop in front of him for a moment before he said, “She threatened me.”

“Threatened you? How?”

“Threatened to come forward, go to the press, tell them about our aff—about what happened. About the kid. Look, I've only just gotten back on track with my life. I don't need this.”

“She wants to create a scandal and she hopes we'll pay her off to prevent it.”

“Something like that. She named a price.”

“How much?”

“Half a million.”

Lesley felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She tried to think quickly. Maria had not made overt threats during her visit. She hadn't demanded anything except to see Richard. She'd only insinuated that she was owed something. But then she'd gone to Steven, tried to enlist his help in obtaining that something, and when he wouldn't help her, she'd named a price for her silence.

Lesley thought again of what was at stake. Mostly her family's reputation. But it was more than that. Her father's good name. Her adopted son would be adversely affected. She could envision the ranks of the Royal Cove Club closing against her, shunning her, her mother, her son. Nothing Maria said had to be true, at least not about who her father was. That she'd make her affair with Steven public, that she'd acknowledge herself as Ricky's biological mother would be enough.

The public facade Lesley had nurtured and protected all these years would crumble like dust. If she didn't prove Maria wrong, everyone would think there was something to her story. Twenty-five or fifty years from now, some matriarch from another Willow Bay family would begin the story with, “Rumor had it that Richard Robinson had an illegitimate daughter…” and it would go on from there.

“Why did you ask to see me?”

“I think you should consider DNA testing—”

“No. My father is not her father. I will not sink to her level.”

“You don't know that. You don't know what your father is capable of. Or was capable of. I was cheating on you right under your nose and you didn't know.”

“Don't compare yourself to my father,” Lesley warned. “Don't you dare. He is and always was an honorable man. He loves my mother. He wouldn't—”

“He's a man.” Steven sat back, his expression stony. “Ask a hundred men if they thought they could get away with it, would they cheat? A hundred of them will say yes. If your father was out of the country, away from your mother, and the opportunity was there, as I'm sure it was, you don't know that he didn't take advantage of it.”

“My father was not the type of man who took advantage. Unless you've got something else to say, I think we're done here.” Lesley moved to the end of the booth.

“She can ruin me,” Steven said, and something in his tone stopped Lesley. She looked across the table at the man she'd once loved, the man she'd pledged herself to. He was a stranger to her now. Maybe he always had been and she'd fooled herself into seeing what she wanted to see, believing the lies he'd fed her.

Was it even remotely possible that her father had done the same thing to Maria's mother? She couldn't believe it because, if her father had done such a thing, he wasn't the man she'd always believed him to be. If Maria was her father's daughter, then the man who'd taught her everything she knew, who'd loved her, who'd been proud of her, was a fraud. If Richard wasn't who she thought he was, that meant she wasn't who she thought she was either.

Her judgment about Steven had been impaired. Was her judgment about her father also faulty? What about Niko? Was she wrong about him too? Had she once again chosen unwisely?

“I'm sorry if that's true, Steven, but I can't help you.”

“The hell you can't. You can but you won't.”

“Fine. I won't. I don't owe you anything. You and Maria made your beds, so lie in them. The way I see it, you two deserve each other.”

“She can ruin you too,” Steven insisted.

“No. What she can do is create some smoke. I'm willing to pit my family's reputation against her scheming if it comes to that. You know this town, Steven. It runs on gossip and innuendo and supposition. Maria will be made out to be a disgruntled employee with a grudge, nothing more. We can weather whatever she brings on. I protect what's mine. I won't let her hurt anyone I love.”

“And since I'm no longer part of that circle, you'll hang me out to dry.”

“I'm done cleaning up your messes, Steven. As far as I'm concerned, you can go to hell. Take Maria with you.”

Lesley fast-tracked her way to the door and shoved it open, nearly knocking over two patrons about to enter. By the time she reached her car, she was breathing hard and her hands were shaking. She pushed the start button and let the car's air-conditioning wash over her while she tried to control her breathing, to settle her careening thoughts.

In her head she could hear her father's voice reminding her of one of his favorite quotes.
The road to hell, having been paved with good intentions, is now ready for travel.

She'd tried to do right by Maria, by Ricky, by her family, even by Steven. She'd kept their secrets, kept them safe, protected them. But at what expense?

Maria was back. Steven was back. Haunting her, clawing at her, wanting something from her. Would she never be rid of them? Would her family ever be safe?

Not until she knew the truth. Even if it was a truth she'd rather not know.