Man of Fortune

by Rochelle Alers

  Duncan dropped a kiss on Tamara’s hair. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Iced tea.”

  She’d said the first thing that came to her mind. It was the middle of the afternoon and with temperatures in the low eighties Tamara wanted to limit her intake of alcohol to avoid dehydration. During the summer, and especially during a prolonged heat wave, people were often admitted to the E.R. suffering from heat exhaustion or dehydration, the result of not increasing their liquid intake or of substituting alcoholic beverages for water.

  “Kyle, darling, could you please bring out more ice.”

  Tamara turned to find an attractive young woman wearing a halter sundress with a revealing décolletage. The sunlight reflected off the diamond on her left hand in a flash of blue and white glints. Her short coiffed hair was nothing short of perfection.

  Angling his head, Kyle kissed his fiancée. “I’d like you to meet Duncan’s lady. Tamara, this is Ava Warrick. Ava, Tamara Wolcott.”

  Ava flashed a friendly smile. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.” She looked around for Duncan. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

  Tamara blushed. Everyone assumed Duncan was her boyfriend, or was it that obvious from seeing them together? She hadn’t draped herself over him, sending out proprietary signals to the other women to stay away. The only sign of affection they’d exchanged was when he’d kissed her hair.

  “He’s getting me something to drink.”

  Ava nodded. “Speaking of drinks, if my fiancé doesn’t bring out some ice we’ll all be drinking warm beverages. What’s in the box, Kyle?” she asked without pausing to take a breath.

  “Cannoli. Duncan knows they’re my favorite dessert.”

  “Mine, too,” Ava confirmed with a Cheshire-cat grin.

  Kyle handed her the box. “Please put this in the refrigerator and ask Ivan to bring out the ice. I need to introduce Tamara to Jordan. She needs to discuss some business with him.”

  Rising on tiptoe, Ava brushed a kiss over Kyle’s cheek. “No problem, baby.”

  Kyle watched his fiancée’s retreat, then turned to Tamara, cupping her elbow and steering her over to where Jordan stood next to a tiny dark-skinned woman with a profusion of tiny twists secured on the top her head. She was testing steaks for doneness, the distinctive aroma of grilling meat redolent in the warm air. An outdoor kitchen sat on an expansive deck surrounded by a flower garden with a stone fountain.

  “Excuse me, Jordan, but I need a word with you.”

  Tamara took a good look at the deeply tanned lawyer. Tall and slender, something about his features called to mind the portraits that hung in the hallowed halls of institutions of higher education. His large hazel eyes were sharp, missing nothing. Given his features, she felt Jordan should’ve had straight blond hair instead of the cropped jet-black curls.

  “What’s up, Chat?”

  “This is Tamara Wolcott. She’s a friend of Duncan’s, and she needs someone to handle a divorce. Tamara, my law partner, Jordan Wainwright.”

  Jordan winked at Natasha Parker, who returned the gesture. He guided Tamara to a corner of the deck where they wouldn’t be overheard. He pulled out a chair at a table shaded by a large umbrella, seating her, then sat next to her.

  “Do you need a divorce attorney for yourself?”

  Tamara stared at the toe of his imported slip-on before she glanced up to meet Jordan’s steady gaze. “No. It’s for my sister.”

  “Why is she divorcing her husband?”

  “She caught him cheating.”

  Jordan’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “She physically caught him cheating?”

  “No. She hired an investigator who took photographs of my brother-in-law in a very compromising position with a woman who works in the same company he does.”

  Grimacing, Jordan bared his teeth. “Nasty. Has she confronted him with the evidence?”

  “Not yet. I told her to wait until I talk to an attorney. She has a lawyer, but he’s a family friend.”

  “What does she want, Tamara?”

  “She wants a divorce.”

  “I know that. But what does she want from the divorce? Do they have a house?”

  Tamara nodded slowly. “They have a house appraised for almost two million.”

  Jordan whistled. “What about cars?”

  “They have a top-of-the line Benz and a BMW.”

  “What about children?” Jordan asked, continuing his questioning.

  “They have two teenage daughters.”

  “What are their ages?”

  “Thirteen and fifteen.”

  “I take it your sister and her husband are college-educated.”

  “Yes. Renata has an MS in education and Robert a Ph.D. in chemistry.”

  “That means your nieces are entitled to a college education. Does your sister want to keep the house?”

  “Yes.”

  Jordan paused as if he were mulling over what Tamara had told him. “I can get your sister most of what she wants, but she has to know for certain that she wants to divorce her husband.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If I take on your sister’s case and then she decides that she wants to reconcile, not only has she wasted her time but also my time. Precious time I can’t afford to waste. Your sister should try to get her husband to go to marital counseling with her, so they can air their differences. If she decides she still wants to go through with a divorce, then I’ll make him pay through the nose for creeping.”

  Tamara decided she liked Jordan Wainwright. If she’d had him when she was going through her divorce, there was no doubt she would’ve been living in the York Avenue co-op with Snowflake. But then, she mused, would she have met Duncan? The odds were she wouldn’t have.

  “Do you have a business card on you?” she asked Jordan.

  “I’m sorry, but I hadn’t planned on doing business this weekend. Ask Duncan to give you Kyle’s private number at the office. Kyle will patch you through to me.”

  “Thank you, Jordan.”

  Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Tamara stood up, looking around for Duncan. She saw him standing a short distance away, watching her with Jordan. Smiling, she closed the distance between them, and he handed her a tall glass of tea topped off with a sprig of mint.

  “What are you drinking?” she asked, touching her glass to his flute filled with a pinkish liquid.

  “It’s a bellini. Would you like to taste it?”

  “It looks like a girlie drink.”

  Duncan smiled. “If you drink a couple you’ll change your mind. Take mine. I’ll get another.” He took her elbow. “Ivan is doing double duty as bartender.” Although his friend was a worse cook than he was, the psychoanalyst was a top-notch mixologist.

  Tamara took a sip of the peach-infused cocktail as she followed Duncan over to an area where people had lined up behind a bar, waiting to be served.

  Duncan saw Micah standing in front of him. “Where’s your wife?”

  Micah Sanborn turned. “She’s inside lying down.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She said she was feeling faint.”

  Duncan and Tamara shared a knowing glance, and she nodded. “Do you mind if Tamara takes a look at her?” He wrapped an arm around Tamara’s shoulders. “Micah, this is Dr. Tamara Wolcott. Tamara, Micah Sanborn.”

  Tamara inclined her head. Micah, like Kyle, was tall, dark and extremely attractive. “I don’t have my bag, but I’ll take a look at her.”

  Minutes later, she sat on the side of a bed, taking the pulse of a young woman with a freestyle hairdo, catlike brown eyes and bronze skin with a light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose and on her cheeks. She’d ordered everyone out of the room, closing the door behind.

  She smiled at Tessa Sanborn. “Your pulse is normal. How long have you been feeling faint?”

  Tessa closed her eyes. “It started yesterday. I was sitting
out back and when I went into the house I felt nauseous and then my head started spinning. I think it’s the heat.”

  Tamara leaned closer. “Do you have a problem keeping food down?”

  “No. At least I don’t think so.”

  “When was your last period, Tessa?”

  She opened her eyes, frowning. “I think it was August. No, it was in July.” A rush of color darkened her cheeks.

  Tamara bit back a smile. “There is a possibility that you’re pregnant.” Tessa’s mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out. “Do you want to know for certain?” Tessa nodded.

  Smiling, Tamara patted her hand. “Stay here. I’m going to get a pregnancy test.”

  “Don’t tell my husband what you suspect.”

  “Of course not. I’ll be back.”

  Tamara opened the door to find Micah waiting outside. “I think it’s the heat,” she said without a hint of guile. “She needs to rest.”

  Concern shimmered in the deep-set dark eyes. “Can I go in to see her?”

  “Let her rest, Micah. I’ll be back to check on her, then you can see her.”

  She hated deceiving him, but at that moment Tessa Sanborn was her patient and she was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. Returning to the patio, she found Duncan with a man wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt, jeans and sandals.

  Duncan introduced her to Ivan Campbell, and they exchanged courteous greetings. She noticed the woman clinging to Ivan’s arm glaring at her. I don’t want your man, because I have the one I want, she mused, returning the glare with one of her own.

  Tamara offered Ivan a polite smile. “Please excuse me, but I need to speak to Duncan.”

  “What’s the matter?” he asked when they were alone.

  “I need you to go to a drug store for me and buy a pregnancy test.”

  “What!”

  “Lower your voice, darling. People are looking at us.”

  “Are you pregnant?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Of course not. Please, darling.”

  Duncan brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Okay. But you owe me.”

  Smiling, she rested a hand on his smooth cheek. “I owe you.”

  An hour later Dr. Tamara Wolcott told Micah Sanborn he could see his wife. The test had confirmed that the Kings County ADA and his wedding-planner wife were expecting their first child.

  CHAPTER 12

  Tamara sat in the rear of the Town Car, staring out the side window. Tension made it virtually impossible for her to draw a normal breath. She didn’t doubt that the surprise celebration for her father would go off well; but how would her family react to seeing her with Duncan?

  The past three weeks had changed her life. She went to bed with Duncan and woke up with him. She stopped by her apartment every other day to pick up her mail and check on her prized bonsai plants. Rodney had a prospective buyer for his condo and his real estate agent had given him a mid-October closing date.

  She’d given Renata Jordan Wainwright’s name and number, and when Renata had informed Robert Powell that she had proof he was having an affair, it was Robert who had pleaded with her not to leave him, saying that he was willing to see a marriage counselor. Although they continued to live under the same roof, Renata refused to let Robert sleep with her until he was tested not once but twice for HIV and STDs.

  Tamara found herself growing closer to Renata because they had something in common: deceitful husbands. But unlike Renata, Tamara had moved on; she was down then she was up, crawling slowly but moving.

  It had taken her a while to learn to trust a man again, yet it had been easy with Duncan Gilmore. They’d become a couple—in and out of bed. And unofficially they’d become a family with Duchess as their baby. The puppy was growing rapidly and could be let out of her crate for longer and longer periods of time.

  During the week Tamara got up early to make breakfast for Duncan. Dinners became a collaborative effort when she and Duncan prepared simple but elegant meals which they ate either in the dining room or on the terrace.

  She had four more days before she had to return to the hospital, and even though she was ready to go back to work Tamara was loath to leave Duchess. The bichon frise had become her constant companion, following her everywhere. Tamara took the puppy with her whenever she returned to the East Village to check on her apartment. Duchess knew she was going out whenever she saw her leash or the carrier that cost as much as some designer handbags.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Duncan’s velvet baritone pulled Tamara out of her reverie. Turning her head, she smiled at him. He looked wonderful in a dark suit, white shirt and a bluish-gray silk tie. It had taken her more than two hours to choose an outfit for the evening. She’d finally decided on a feminine tuxedo with a black pencil skirt, a jacket with a shawl collar and a gray silk vest that doubled as a blouse. Her shoes matched her blouse, the silk-covered slingbacks putting her above the six-foot mark.

  “I’m mentally preparing myself to go back to work.”

  Duncan stared at the sophisticated hairstyle Tamara had affected. She’d explained that she had her hair set on large rollers before she went under the dryer. Then she had to endure the heat from a blow dryer and brush to lift and smooth her hair until it moved as if taking on a life of its own. She admitted that she preferred the curly style because she didn’t have to deal with the blow dryer or cover her hair at night to keep it from frizzing.

  He wasn’t partial to any particular hairstyle because he’d like Tamara Wolcott even if she shaved her head. Tamara was unlike any other woman he’d known. She was strong, independent, traits he’d come to admire in a woman. The women in his past had exhibited a neediness that he’d found appealing because it permitted him to take care of them.

  But Tamara didn’t need taking care of—she needed him to love her. She hadn’t asked him to love her; she didn’t even ask if he liked her. He’d had to tell Kali every day that he loved her or she would sulk or pout for weeks on end. After a while it’d become an automatic response: “Yes, Kali, I love you.”

  Not only did he like Tamara, but he loved her. It was a gentle love he found comforting, soothing. The times when they went to bed and did not make love they talked—about anything and everything. What he found puzzling was that they never talked about themselves. It was as if that topic was taboo.

  He knew of the men in her life, but he hadn’t told her about Kalinda. To talk about his fiancée would dredge up guilt—guilt that he hadn’t trusted Kali to tell him the truth. Guilt that he’d professed to love her when in fact he was always looking for an excuse to end their relationship.

  There were times when Duncan didn’t know whether she was lying because she’d become so proficient a liar that even though he saw the truth he refused to acknowledge it. He should’ve known something was wrong when she’d revealed that she was not a virgin—but only after they’d slept together the first time. When he’d confronted her, she’d cried, saying she didn’t want him to think less of her because she’d slept with another man. Little did she know that he’d had no wish to become involved with the clingy virgin persona she had perfected to an art form.

  What she hadn’t lied about was her upbringing. Her controlling mother and tyrannical father had made it impossible for her to have a life of her own. Once Duncan put an engagement ring on her finger, the elder Douglases eased their grip somewhat, but no matter how late Kali stayed out, she still had to go home to sleep in her own bed. He’d paid a car service a small fortune to take her home.

  “Do you miss the hospital?”

  Tamara wrinkled her nose. “A little bit.”

  “When are you taking a vacation again?”

  “Probably next spring. I have a lot time coming to me.”

  “I usually take off the last two weeks in April. Tax season begins the first week in January and by April fifteenth my staff is close to burnout. Aside from regular holidays it’s the only time I shut down the off
ice completely.”

  “What if emergency calls come in?” Tamara asked.

  “The building receptionists take messages when we don’t pick up.”

  Reaching over, Tamara placed her hand over Duncan’s. “I’ve never been to your office.”

  “I should’ve taken you there the day we went to Kyle’s cookout.”

  She thought about the party Duncan was hosting for Kyle and Ava that was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Tessa Sanborn, one-third owner of Signature Event Planners and Signature Bridals was handling everything from mailing out invitations to contracting a caterer. Tessa’s floral-designer sister would deliver bouquets of Ava’s favorite flowers and renowned wedding-cake designer Faith McMillan would provide the dessert.

  “A good thing about going back to the hospital is that I won’t have to work a twelve-hour shift anymore. I don’t want to think of leaving Duchess alone for that long.”

  “You can leave her at my place,” Duncan volunteered.

  “I’m not going home just to turn around and come to your place to take care of her, Duncan.”

  “It wouldn’t be a problem if you move in with me. As it is we’re practically living together.”

  “We’re not living together. What I do is sleep over at your place.”

  “It’s all the same, Tamara.”

  “No, it’s not, Duncan. You have your apartment and I have mine, which gives me the option of sleeping at my own place any time I want.”

  Duncan went still. Tamara talking about having options spoke volumes. “Do you really think I’d ask you to move in with me, then put you out if we have a disagreement?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Tamara retorted. “All I know is that I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

  “You had no way of knowing when you married your ex that it was going to end the way it did.”

  “You’re right, Duncan. But I promised myself that I would never permit myself to get caught up in a similar position again. Thanks for the offer, but I can’t live with you.”