He gave a dry snort. “DNA? I don’t have anything like that.”
“An envelope he might have licked? A pen he bit? A brush he used? Something that absolutely without a doubt was used by him and him alone? His personal things were cleaned out of the restaurant by the time we got the judge to give us entry—”
“Cleaned out by me while my best friend was in an eight-day coma,” Law said through clenched teeth. “And after he died, I kept the restaurant closed for a few weeks. Then, the next time I went to the Pelican, I was locked out. Imagine my surprise.”
She could, actually, because Sam had worked fast and pulled powerful strings to get what they wanted—temporary ownership.
“Our birth certificates convinced a judge in Collier County Court,” she said. “And we created the shell company to keep the place running for a year, which is part of the legal case that will be decided on in two weeks.”
“What happens in two weeks?” he asked.
“The court date to get the final deed to the property, one year after Jake’s death. I’ve had to post ownership of the Toasted Pelican in legal journals every month for a year to give anyone a chance to come forward.”
“How the hell did I miss those?” he asked.
She tamped down a wave of guilt, even though they hadn’t done anything illegal. Just…sly. “Sam found the most obscure journals and buried the notification. He said that’s what lawyers do.”
Law looked skyward with unabashed disgust. “And if no one comes forward to counter your claim?”
“The court will award us ownership on the anniversary of his death.”
“Does your brother want to own half?”
“He’ll sell me his half for a dollar. Sam has no interest in a yoga studio.”
“A…” He choked a little. “A what?”
“I’m turning the property into a sanctuary for women. Rooms for yoga and meditation, and possibly a wellness spa upstairs if I can afford it.”
“A…” He looked like he couldn’t even say the words wellness spa. “Why would you do that to a local landmark that’s been on Mimosa Key since the year the island was founded? Do you not know the history of the Pelican?”
Didn’t know it, didn’t care about it. “Those are my plans,” she said simply.
“In two weeks.”
“If we win in court.”
He didn’t reply, taking keys out of his pocket and one more step toward the motorcycle as she waited for a barrage of questions that she surely deserved. Why had they kept it quiet? Why didn’t she admit she owned the place when he asked? What was Donna Chesterfield really like?
“That was it, wasn’t it?”
The question threw her, and she had no idea what he meant. “That was…what?”
“What you wanted when you came to the beach and tried to…lure me. DNA.”
She looked down, unable to look him in the eyes and lie outright.
“Too bad it didn’t work,” he said. He lifted her chin with one finger to force her gaze on him. “I’d have liked to have been lured like that.” He dropped his gaze over her body. “We both would have liked it.”
Understatement alert. “Well, it could never have happened, anyway,” she said.
“Never say never, Lib.”
“Too late. I already did. I’ve been celibate since my divorce a few years ago, and my plan is to stay that way.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, making her laugh.
“Some people do just fine without sex,” she added.
“Celibate?” he finally managed to say. “Libby, that’s like Michelangelo not painting. That’s like Joe DiMaggio not batting. That’s like Mario Batali hanging up his apron. That’s like a Ferrari parked in the garage, and a—”
“I get the idea.” She flicked her fingers to shut him up. “You think it’s crazy.”
“I think it’s…not healthy.”
She laughed. “I’m quite healthy, thank you very much. Take one of my yoga classes if you don’t believe me.”
“I might.”
“Tomorrow at sunrise.” She took a step back and blew him a kiss. “See you then. Namaste.”
But he didn’t move, still in shock. “Celibate?” he croaked the word again. “I guess that changes everything.”
The words hit her heart, but she covered with a smile. “That’s the idea, Monroe.”
Of course it changed everything. And it confirmed that he was like every other man on earth who wanted one thing and one thing only. And once they had it, they disappeared.
Chapter Six
Law barely slept through the night. He hadn’t received the notice that he had to be out of the efficiency apartment yet, but it would show up today or tomorrow. He needed a plan, so he’d spent the night coming up with one while he packed his scant belongings.
Since anything that mattered to him was in storage along with Jake’s stuff, he could fit his stuff in two bags, but that was still more than he could throw over the back of his bike. In the middle of the night, he shot a text to his friend Ken to see if he could borrow his truck in the morning and spent a few hours digging around the Internet for some free legal advice. Then he spent the rest of the short night thinking about Jake Peterson and why he would turn away a young woman he’d gotten pregnant.
Not a single plausible reason came to mind.
He’d finally fallen asleep when a tap on his door yanked him awake before six a.m. Oh hell. Already they wanted him out?
Chef Del must have gone insane last night.
But looking through the peephole, Law saw Captain Ken Cavanaugh looking crisp and alert in a blue uniform dress shirt, not Ritz-Carlton security. Even through the concave warp of a peephole, his friend looked every bit the hotshot hero firefighter with his short-cropped military cut and I-can-save-your-life-or-your-kitten shoulders.
They’d reconnected at the Mimosa High reunion when they, along with one other guy, Mark Solomon, had been roped into being on the planning committee. None of them wanted to do that work, but all of them had their reasons. And for the other two, things had worked out nicely.
Mark’s determination to keep everyone from asking questions about his late wife had him rope a lovely woman into pretending to be his fiancée and ended up engaged to her for real. And Ken had his own adventures, hooking up with an ex, a move that changed his life forever.
All Law had wanted was a chance to spend a lot of time on Mimosa Key and find out more about the Pelican.
“It’s early,” Law said as he opened the door.
Ken looked unfazed by the hour. “I got your text. You really quit your job?”
“Yes, I quit my job.” Law opened the door to let his friend in, unconcerned that he wore nothing but boxers. “And I said anytime today, not the ass crack of dawn.”
“My shift starts at seven a.m. I thought you could go with me up to the station and then take the truck for a few days if you need it. I’ll be on duty, and Beth has her own car.”
“Thanks,” Law said, silently appreciating how great it was to have a true friend again. “Gimme a sec to get dressed.” He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Ken to wait in the apartment.
“What are you going to do?” Ken asked.
“I have a plan.”
“Where are you going to live if they’re kicking you out?” Ken called while Law loaded toothpaste on the brush.
“Not sure yet.”
“But you’re moving out today?”
“That’s why I need the truck,” he mumbled. He spit in the sink, washed his face, and abandoned any hope of shaving.
“So your plan is you have no plan.” Even through the closed door, he could hear Ken’s disapproval of the non-plan plan.
But Law did have a plan. Grabbing some loose-fitting shorts that hung on the back of the door, he went back into the efficiency. “Life on the edge, my friend. Not the way you live with a wife and baby on the way.” He snapped his finger. “I meant with a baby and wife
on the way. I always get that order mixed up with you because, you know, sometimes unexpected shit happens and you have to roll with the punches.”
Ken acknowledged the reminder and settled into the desk chair, his long legs crossed in fancy dark blue pants. “The order will be right soon enough. We set a date for a Barefoot Bay wedding the first weekend in October, but ran into a funny conflict.”
“Which is?”
“Mark and Emma have the night after, same beach.”
Law gave a soft hoot. “What are the odds, man?” he mused. “Can I cater?”
“I’d rather you just enjoyed the party, or parties. And, damn, you should hear the A-list coming to Mark and Emma’s wedding. That guy knows everybody. He’s got Adam Slater coming.”
“The astronaut?”
“Yeah, and Jesse MacDonald.”
“Jesse Mac?” Law’s jaw dropped. “The race car driver? Forget catering. I’ll hang out with legends all night.”
“How could you cater, anyway? You don’t even know where you’re going to be living.”
“There’s always your truck,” Law joked.
“Seriously, if you need a place to crash…”
Law huffed out a breath. “You, me, Beth, and the fat dog? What a cozy arrangement. I thank you, but trust me, I have it all figured out.” He hoped.
“And for a job?”
“I’ll get…something.” Although he had a bit of a plan for that, too. A wild-ass crazy plan, but hey. You don’t know until you try, Jake would say.
Law stuffed his last few belongings into a bag and looked around the place where he’d lived for almost a year. He’d left no imprint, no real memories, nothing. Welcome to Law’s life, where a quick escape was always possible.
“Come on, Captain Cav. I’ll tell you the whole story on the way. Brace yourself, it’s a doozy.”
While they drove to Ken’s fire station in Fort Myers, Law gave up that silence the one and only attorney he’d met with after Jake died had advised him to keep. He could finally fill Ken in on why he’d been so eager to find out who’d taken over ownership of the Toasted Pelican and told him all he’d learned last night.
“So, basically, there’s a property without a rightful owner, and we both have somewhat of a claim,” Law finished.
Ken was silent as the story unfolded, then turned to give Law a long, hard look. “Man, you need a lawyer.”
Law waved it off. “My attorney is Google and Google, and they tell me that ‘possession is nine-tenths of the law.’”
Ken gave him a sideways look. “Google and Google might be free, but I’m thinking you want to hire a real attorney, despite your appropriate first name.”
Law grinned. “I forgot about that. Well, possession is the plan I told you about.”
“Why don’t I like the sound of this?”
“Because you’re a strict by-the-book kind of guy, and look where that’s gotten you.”
“It’s gotten me to the rank of captain and about to marry the woman I love.”
“Because she got pregnant. You wouldn’t be settling down if she hadn’t.”
This time, Ken’s look was sharp. “Then I thank God she did, because I’ve never been happier. And maybe you should quit scoffing at the idea of settling down, because living like a college student at forty-six is just dumb, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you,” Law shot back. “And I choose to live like this, my friend. No roots, no ties, no family to rope me down.”
“No life, no fun, no best friend to wake up with in the morning.”
“What do you mean? Today I woke up, and there was my best friend at the door.”
Ken laughed. “Whatever. Live your life, Monroe. Just don’t screw up anybody else’s in the process. What if she really is Jake’s daughter, and they really do have a claim to the place, and you never produce this will? Then what’s your plan?”
He was quiet for a moment, thinking of all the things that he’d remembered last night. “I do know that Jake had a thing for a woman—a girl, actually—named Donna. So there’s that much to her story that’s real. But the fact is, she doesn’t have DNA proof, and I might be able to find it for her.”
“So you’d help her win the place away from you?”
“I’ll certainly let her think I’m helping her.”
Ken’s eyes narrowed. “That’s shitty.”
“No, look, if we find DNA in his stuff and she can get it sent to some testing place, fine. But it’s not going to work. I did enough research to know that anything we find is going to be compromised. Also, a DNA test done by a mail-order place based on a few hairs found in a box of his crap won’t work. There has to be some official third-party collector who verifies where it was from, and the results have to be more than ninety-five percent accurate and positive to stand up in court.”
“So why are you helping her?”
“So she likes me.”
Ken pulled into the fire station lot, shaking his head. “Just so you can have sex with her, Law? Why the subterfuge? It’s not cool to do that to a woman.”
“I don’t want to have…well, I do, but I’m not going to. She’s…” He swallowed before he said the word that was still pretty foreign to his thinking. “She claims to be celibate.”
Ken reacted with a surprised expression. “Seriously?”
“That’s what she said. But, whoa, she can give off mixed messages.”
“Then why are you helping her if what she gets doesn’t stand up in court? What do you get out of it?”
“Other than being a really good guy?”
“Or at least looking like one,” Ken noted.
Law lifted a shoulder. “Well, yeah. But even more than that, she has to run the place for two more weeks before going to court. The Pelican is currently going straight to hell in a greasy saucepan, and I’m going to change that. That’s all I’ll ask in exchange for giving her access to all the DNA I can dig up from his stuff in storage.”
“So she’ll hire you if she wins?”
He puffed a breath. “I don’t want to work for anybody ever again if I can avoid it. There’ll be a delay, of course. There always is when lawyers are involved. And I’m going to make the Toasted Pelican so successful that she won’t want me to leave. Eventually, the place will be making money, and then I’ll work out some deal or make her an offer. I have the money to buy it if I have to.”
“Then why don’t you offer it to her and buy it now?” Ken asked.
“She won’t sell. I have to convince her,” he said. “Plus, she doesn’t know I don’t have a will. If their proof falls apart and I find what Jake says he left me, then I just saved a buttload of money, which I can put back into the business.”
Ken parked, turned off the ignition, thinking and, Law hoped, seeing the plan that seemed to make so much sense in the middle of the night.
“Why would you find the will now when you couldn’t before?” Ken asked.
“Because I couldn’t get into the kitchen, back of the restaurant, or behind the bar,” he said. “I know there are hidey-holes where he stuffed money and bills and shit. So I have a better chance of finding it if I’m working there. That’s been a frustration of mine all along and one of the reasons I haven’t told anyone but the lawyer I talked to when Jake died. I didn’t want this mysterious owner finding that will and destroying it.”
Finally, Ken nodded. “I guess, but I think you should just be upfront with her. Tell her your plan and make some kind of official agreement. Then you can relax, have a good time fixing the place up, and maybe…” He grinned. “Maybe she will have sex with you.”
“Nah, then she’d want to get serious, and that official agreement would be too damn official for my tastes.”
“Aren’t you lonely?” Ken asked, obviously projecting the issues he had before meeting Beth onto Law.
Law smiled at Ken and slapped his shoulder. “Not lonely. Told you, I just woke up to my best friend. And he gave me his truck.”
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“Don’t forget Mark if you need help. He’s around, you know. Working on the house with Emma, but she’s really busy at doing the marketing for the resort and planning the wedding, so I’m sure he’d help you if you need it.”
“If he can wait tables,” Law said.
“Mark Solomon? He’d probably prefer to do it while parachuting out of a plane, but you never know. A friend’s a friend.”
“And you are,” Law said, opening the door. “I appreciate the help, man.”
“Anytime. I hope this works out for you.”
“I do, too.” Because if it didn’t, Law was going to bounce again, and one of these days, he was afraid he’d bounce right back to the bottom of a bottle.
* * *
“Take a deep, victorious breath, hold it. Hold it. Hooooold it.” With her back to the small group of yoga students who’d just settled on their mats for an hour of bliss, Libby lowered her arms to signal release. “And out!”
Behind her, they whooshed out their noisy ujjayi breath. Shifting on her backside, she lifted her right arm and placed her left next to her hip. “Follow my movement,” she instructed, knowing the group behind her was likely a mix of experienced yogis and newbies trying something new on vacation. For the new ones, it would help to face the water and let them mirror her moves. “Lean all the way to the left and breathe in to fill your whole right side.”
She inhaled and heard them do the same, although her experienced ear told her someone’s breathing was shallow and locked. “Now the left arm.”
She demonstrated again, inhaling a deep whiff of delicious, clean morning air to clear a head desperate for more sleep. Last night’s battle with the pillow finally ended at four in the morning, when Libby got up, had too much coffee and a little too much time to think.
“Now let’s shift to a neutral tabletop, on your hands and knees.” She turned sideways to show them what she meant by neutral, glancing at the five students lined up on the beach.
Make that six students.
Oh Lord. Was that even fair at this hour of the morning?
Wearing a black T-shirt, baggy shorts, and a grin brighter than the sun that rose in the east over his shoulder, Law Monroe didn’t look like he’d done any battle with the bed the night before. He looked strong and handsome and so good on a yoga mat she almost cried.
Barefoot at Midnight (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 3) Page 7
