Authors: Susan Johnson

Wine, Tarts, & Sex (10 page)

BOOK: Wine, Tarts, & Sex

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“I know. I keep telling myself that.” Exhaling softly, Janie added, “There is a little something I haven’t mentioned. ”

Here it comes
, Liv thought. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d figured as much. She hadn’t heard from Janie for years. “How little?” she asked, not that she didn’t already know the word
little
was a major euphemism.

“It depends on whether he finds us or not.”

“He—meaning Leo?”

Janie nodded. “I called you because I’d heard you’d gone back home, and I knew you lived in some small town out in the middle of nowhere. I need to hide out until all the divorce details can be worked out.”

“Hide out?”

“Leo’s going to want custody of Matt.”

“You don’t have a prenup?”

“Hel-lo.”

“Yeah, I figured you did.”

“Not that it matters. Leo’s threatened to fight for custody, prenup or not. He did that with his second wife and won full custody of their daughter. Lisa not only lost her daughter but was left practically penniless after she paid her lawyers.”

“You talked to her?”

“I ran into her at a charity fund-raiser, and she made a point of warning me. She’s married again.”

“Someone with money, I presume, if she was at a charity fund-raiser.”

“Of course.”

Janie’s reply was couched in the don’t-be-stupid tone of a woman who hadn’t married for love.
Silly me,
Liv thought. “What makes you think Leo won’t find you at my place?”

“Matt and I have false passports. Our housekeeper despises Leo, and she has a friend who has a friend—you know, that sort of thing. It was simple. I called her the instant I found out that Leo had locked me out, and she gave me the address of this person in Queens. Naturally, she couldn’t let me into the apartment, or she’d lose her job, but she packed up my jewelry and sent it out with the houseboy. Anyway, we used the passports to buy our tickets, so we’re completely incognito.”

Liv was thinking she was getting into a whole lot of trouble with talk of false passports and vengeful husbands. Not to mention, she’d seen Leo Rolf throw his weight around once at a dinner party in New York. It had not been a pretty sight.

“You talked to your lawyer about this, and he’s on board?”

“Well . . . sort of.”

“Sort of how?”

“I told him I was going home to stay with my mother.”

“The mother you haven’t spoken to in years?”

“I thought it sounded sensible. I gave him your number, though, in case he has to get in touch with me.”

Great. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t help, but she could already see all the machinations in play that were so Janie. Her perceptions weren’t always in line with reality. In fact, rarely. “Let’s hope your lawyer can handle Leo if he decides to play hardball.”

“Brad is one of the best”—Janie smiled—“and he’s really sweet, too. He said not to worry about a thing. He’s in the ring for me. Did I say he just got divorced?”

“No. Is that good?”

“Possibly. I’m not ruling out anything. He’s handsome and much younger than Leo. I don’t plan on marrying an older man again.”

Not unless he’s really rich
, Liv silently reflected. But she wasn’t going to be judgmental just because they had divergent views on life. They’d been friends a long time. “Well, let’s hope that Leo doesn’t figure out where you are, and everything will be copecetic.”

“Minnesota is outside Leo’s radar. It would never cross his mind that I’d come here.”

“No doubt. Most of our visitors come to fish or hunt.”

“Eeewww. Well, for sure that’s not Leo. He doesn’t even eat fish. You know, I feel very clever having thought of such an out-of-the-way locale,” Janie smugly noted. “What
do
you do all day in a place like this?”

“I have a small vineyard, so I work.”

Janie’s brows lifted high. “Really. You actually, like, dig in the dirt and whatever in your vineyard?”

Liv smiled. “Actually, yes. I like it.”

“That explains why you were talking about delivering wines to Jake. He’s gorgeous as ever, isn’t he? There are times,” Janie murmured, “when I wonder if I made a mistake walking out on him. Is he hooked up with anyone here?”

“He just arrived last week. I don’t know about his women.” It wasn’t a lie; she didn’t have a clue.

“He’s going to be enormous fun to have around. Jake is always up for anything. Nor do I believe for a minute,” Janie said with a soft snort, “that a woman’s marital status is a deterrent for him. In Hollywood, the land of revolving-door marriages, he was up to his neck with offers from all kinds of women. He was probably just being polite because he doesn’t know you very well.”

Actually, in some ways he did know her well. Not that Liv was about to parse words when they
were
more or less strangers. Although, certainly, those circumstances could change, she thought, smiling.

“What are you smiling about?”

“I like this song,” she lied. The radio had been playing softly in the background.

“Me, too. Leo had that band play at my birthday party last year. The lead singer is sooo hot. Leo almost went ballistic when I flirted with Richie.”

It appeared there might be more than one side to this divorce story, Liv decided. She’d seen Janie in action more than once when she zeroed in on some guy. And men like Leo who purchased trophy wives didn’t like to play second string to some sexy, young, hired-help rock star.

There were rules in the cash-for-beauty game.

And the person with the money held all the cards.

Not that she had to involve herself in Leo’s problems.

She had plenty of her own now that Janie was moving in.

Ten

“Get—me—Roman!” Leo punctuated each word with a fist to his polished desktop. “That fucking bitch Janie is
gone
!” he bellowed, glaring at his assistant who had come running at the screaming summons from his boss. “That cunt Betsy McCall—all sugar-sweet and malicious —just called to tell me she’d seen Janie at the airport yesterday. Janie had the fucking
balls
to take Matt out of New York! Don’t just
stand
there! Fucking
do
something!”

Ben began backing toward the door. “I’ll get right on it, sir,” he said with the blank look he’d learned to cultivate at times like this when Leo was going off the deep end.

Since he’d been given the orders to have the locks on the apartment changed, Janie’s departure didn’t come as a huge surprise to Ben. But then Leo only had one point of view— his own—which put him at a disadvantage at times like this when a modicum of empathy would have been useful.

“If she thinks for a second she’s going to have Matt, I’ve got a news flash for her!” Leo shrieked, like the madman he was. “Matt is
my
goddamn
son
!
Mine, Goddammit! Mine! Mine! Mine!
”

Leo Rolf’s face and bald pate were beet red edging toward purple, the violence of his temper, as always, disconcerting to those who were sane. Ben was almost to the exit of the mammoth office overlooking the East River. “I’ll see that Roman gets here ASAP, sir,” he said, hoping like hell Leo didn’t have a stroke right before his eyes. With Leo, there would always be that moment of hesitation about whether or not to call an ambulance. Like when Stalin lay dying and everyone in the politburo sat around playing cards instead of calling the doctor.

Leo Rolf was that kind of guy.

Not well loved.

But the perks of Ben’s position were hard to pass up. Trips around the world in Leo’s private jet, reservations at all the best hotels, meetings with world leaders who needed Leo’s particular brand of financial acumen and contacts. Ben Connor figured in five years his stock portfolio would allow him to retire and live like a king.

The instant Ben exited what he had come to refer to as the loony bin, he felt his shoulder muscles release what felt like fifty pounds of tension. Exhaling a sigh of relief, he quickly moved to his desk and punched in Roman Novak’s number on his speed dial. Roman was Leo’s go-to man who operated on the fringes of the law and did what was required of him, no questions asked. He could hack into the Pentagon if necessary and had a couple times when Leo wanted to know about contract bids from competitors. The defense industry was big money for Leo. Not that his pharmaceutical stock wasn’t doing well, too, along with his development sites on the East River and his new inroads into the Chinese market.

Roman picked up, curtailing Ben’s musing. “Crisis time. Leo wants you here five minutes ago.”

“What’s up?”

Roman always spoke calmly, like nothing ever rattled him. Although, Ben thought, if he was as big as Roman, maybe he could afford to be calm, too. “Here’s the picture.” Ben didn’t even try to sanitize the situation. In Roman’s line of work he’d seen it all. “Leo had the locks on his apartment changed yesterday when Janie and Matt were at the gym. Funny—she got mad about it and took off with Matt. He wants you to find his son and bring him back. Janie is expendable, of course. Leo will fill you in when you get here.”

“They left yesterday?”

“Apparently. He’s in an explosive mood. Just a warning. ”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can get through traffic.”

Ben hid in his office until Roman arrived, praying Leo wouldn’t shriek for him again. When Leo’s eyes were bulging like that and he was approaching that shade of eggplant, he wasn’t thinking too clearly. Ben didn’t want to get fired for saying the wrong thing, and with Leo in one of his out-of-control moods, even commenting on the weather could be a major blunder.

When Roman Novak strode into the office twenty minutes later, Ben looked up and exhaled, “Thank God,” like he’d been rescued from the Black Hole of Calcutta.

His relief was so obvious, Roman grinned. “Relax, kid. Leo’s just like all the rest of the big shots. A bully when he has his money and backup behind him, but not so brave when it’s mano a mano with someone his own size, if you know what I mean.”

“Easy for you to say.” Roman was a very large ex-NYPD detective who had boxed professionally as a youth. Still pretty much ripped beneath his custom Armani, he was capable of intimidating just about anyone.

Roman flashed a smile, all white teeth and good humor. “I hope you’re stashing away some of Leo’s money, kid. Then you can get out eventually, like his latest wife just did.”

“I doubt he’s planning on Janie getting out without a down-and-dirty slugfest. He’s really pissed she took
his
son as he puts it.”

“I always thought Leo had scored way above his pay grade with Janie. She’s damned nice. Too bad he didn’t have sense enough to know when he had a good thing. Don’t let him give you a heart attack, though. He’s all bluster. ”

“That might be, but he’s really into orbit over this. You know how he feels about his kids. Christ—the money he spent to gain custody of Sarah would have financed a third-world nation.”

“And the only reason he finally won that case was because Lisa was stupid enough to do cocaine in front of a photographer. Dumb shit.”

“She
was
a little ditzy.”

“She’s dumb as a post. Period. Little Janie has quite a few more smarts.” Roman nodded toward Leo’s office. “Tell him I’m here.” Then, without waiting for Ben to make the call, he walked to the door, shoved it open and, entering the sunlit room with the East River view, said in his deep, calm voice, “Hey, dude, your fixer is here.”

“It’s about fucking time!”

“My price goes up when people scream at me,” Roman murmured, shutting the door and standing perfectly still.

“Sorry.” Leo waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. “I’m just so fucking teed off. Come, sit down.” Another wave, indicating a chair. “You heard. Janie left with Matt.”

“I heard you changed the locks on the apartment,” Roman said, moving toward the chair.

Leo shrugged. “She began to bore me.”

“That must mean you have someone else in mind.”

Leo smiled faintly. “Maybe I do.”

“You’re gonna be right up there with Liz Taylor’s marital record if you keep this up,” Roman noted, sitting down. “Why the hell do you marry them all? It’s the twenty-first century. Haven’t you heard of cohabitation?”

“Call me old-fashioned.”

More like controlling
, Roman thought. Four times married and counting was not exactly what you’d call old-fashioned values. Unless you had Henry the Eighth in mind as a role model. “Whatever you say, Leo.” He wasn’t a therapist. “So what do you want from me?”

“Find her, naturally, and bring my son back.”

“That could be construed as kidnapping.”

“Don’t shit me. Since when are you concerned with legalities? ”

BOOK: Wine, Tarts, & Sex

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