Like a Hurricane
Page 14
Nicole laughed at Freddie’s endless astrological explanations. “That’s probably what it is. Jupiter forcing change.”
Freddie held the fabric up, measuring with her practiced eye and blocking her face from Nicole’s view. “Or Quinn McGrath forcing change.”
“Gee,” Nicole said, stepping toward her aunt and reaching out to inch the lamé down enough to see Freddie’s face. “That didn’t take too terribly long.”
“I’m nothing if not speedy.” She dropped the material and took Nicole’s hand, scooting around the table to get closer. “Want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Freddie wrinkled her nose and sniffed. “I smell trouble. Unhappiness. And something else.”
Good thing she’d taken a shower at Quinn’s or else Freddie would smell the sweet scent of sex.
Freddie leaned closer. “I smell love.”
Nicole jumped back and let her jaw drop. “Then your nose isn’t working. ’Cause this is not love. This is lust, maybe, and even something more than that. But I won’t fall in love with a man I don’t trust, with a man who lies with the ease of a paid actor, with a man who says one thing and five minutes later is on the phone negotiating something else. Especially when that something else will totally pull the rug out from under my life. This isn’t love, Aunt Freddie. Because I don’t need to be in love to be fulfilled. Love will only let you down and I just want to live my life—”
“Whoa!” Freddie held up two hands, her eyes wide and shining. “Catch a breath, sweet pea. Listen to yourself.”
Nicole exhaled. The echo of her high-pitched denial hung in the room. She sat on a fitting stage, resting her arms on her knees and dropping her head in her hands. “Sorry. But it isn’t love.”
“Methinks you doth protest too much,” Freddie said, taking the space next to Nicole. She put her arm around Nicole’s shoulders and squeezed. “What happened?”
No use fighting the nose. She’d sniff out the truth eventually.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
Nicole shook her head, covering her face with her hands. “It’s complicated. Mistaken identity. Secret messages.” She spread her hands and peered at her aunt through her fingers. “Elevator sex.”
Freddie grinned broadly. “Oh my. That lamé is not going to get sewn today.” She wrapped her arms around her legs and scooted next to Nicole. “Tell me everything.”
Nicole sighed and crossed her arms. “Well, it started with that damn billboard.”
Freddie didn’t push for details, but Nicole gave her enough to let her imagination fill in any missing parts. By the time she got to the phone call that morning, a wayward tear escaped.
“He’s a businessman, Aunt Freddie. That’s the bottom line,” Nicole said, wiping her cheek. “I don’t know if I can trust him to convince his boss not to level the property. He has so much at stake. A partnership, his career.”
“You.”
Nicole shook her head. “I don’t think I enter into the picture, except in the obvious way.” You’re the one. “I mean, I don’t think I do.” You are, you know. “Maybe. I’m not sure.” She looked at Aunt Freddie. “He has been known to color the truth.”
Freddie stood and returned to her worktable. She lifted the gold fabric again, this time her giant sewing scissors taking determined, sure snips until it fell into two sections. She held one up, frowning as she no doubt visualized it draped over the arm of one of the ladies who lunched. One with the proper coloring, of course.
Nicole watched her, waiting for the verdict.
Finally, Freddie looked down at her, her eyes dampened with the rarest of tears. “I’ve done you a terrible disservice, sweet pea.”
“What?” Nicole couldn’t imagine that Freddie had done anything less than love her. “What do you mean, Aunt Freddie?”
“I tried to raise you to be me.”
“What do—why would that be a disservice?”
Freddie sighed. “In some ways, it’s not. You’re independent and can take care of yourself. That’s good and I’m proud of that.” She leaned on the table and looked hard at Nicole. “But your parents would have wanted you to know the kind of love that they had. And they did, Nicole. They had a great love.”
Damn. The lump in her throat formed again.
“And your problems with Quinn McGrath don’t have anything to do with a property sale,” Freddie announced, coming around the worktable to kneel in front of Nicole. “You know it and I know it.” Freddie crouched in front of Nicole and held both arms out.
The dreamy image of the lady on the sofa and the big man who flew her around the house floated into her head. Nicole closed her eyes. “I’m scared,” she admitted quietly. “I’m scared that one day someone I love will go out in a car and never come home.”
A soft moan escaped Freddie’s lips as she embraced Nicole. “Oh, my darling. Of course you are. But you can’t not live life because life hurt you once. You have to go on. You have to.”
Nicole looked hard at her aunt and knew she was right. “With Quinn?”
“You know, I have a sense about these things.” Freddie squeezed Nicole’s shoulders. “Your Quinn. He smells right.”
Nicole bit back a combination sob and laugh. “Oh, he sure does, Aunt Freddie. He smells divine.”
Freddie laughed and folded her niece into her arms, enveloping Nicole in a cloud of love and Red Door Perfume.
“There’s something about him,” Freddie said knowingly, running a loving hand through Nicole’s hair. “He’s… I think he’s the one for you.”
“The…one?”
“You know. Your soul mate. Your match. Your partner. The one.”
A shiver danced down Nicole’s spine and she could see the honesty in Mac’s eyes and hear the certainty in his voice. You are, you know.
Did a little harmless flirting to get what he wanted make Quinn the liar Nicole seemed to believe he was? Quinn ignored the pesky question in his head and continued the unbroken eye contact with Tom Northcott’s pretty forty-something secretary.
Yes, he was using charm. Was that illegal? It was working. He saw the flush, the flip of her frosted hair, the unconscious flick of her tongue over her lipstick. It took five minutes of meaningless conversation, but she was very close to revealing exactly where Tom Northcott was that morning.
“It’s not for public consumption,” she said in a sexy, conspiratorial whisper. “He’s at a, uh, meeting at the St. Joseph’s Country Club today.”
A meeting. Right. On the fairway, no doubt.
She looked down and tapped a closed black desk planner, then looked up with a wistful smile. “I sure wish I could help you, Mr. McGrath, but he is booked solid for the next few days.”
He’d have to go to plan B. He curled his lips in a half smile. “How about Dennis?” He used the lawyer’s first name with confidence, even though he didn’t know Dennis Knox as anything but the legal signature on the papers he’d studied all morning.
“Oh, Mr. Knox is…” She shuffled some papers, obviously ready to employ her gatekeeping skills.
He leaned close enough to nearly invade her personal space and, at the same time, read the words on a message addressed to her. “I just need ten minutes. Rachel.”
She looked up, not appearing to mind the invasion or the use of her first name. “Let me try and call him,” she said softly. “I can probably squeeze you in.”
A few minutes later, he followed Rachel to the legal department. She kept up a witty banter and Quinn responded, thanking her for the extra effort. But his mind was already whirring ahead to the spontaneous meeting with the lawyer.
When Rachel left him in Dennis Knox’s office, Quinn shook the older man’s hand and glanced at the family photos and corporate paraphernalia on the credenza behind him. Quinn sized him up in three seconds. A company man. Lifetime bank employee, couple of kids in college, pension just five or eight years away.
A shadow darkened the ruddy complexion. “That’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”
“In a word, yes.” He reached for his briefcase to get the papers out. “I’ve never seen such an unusually worded policy.”
Knox shook his head and picked up a pair of reading glasses, taking the papers from Quinn’s hand. “Nor have I. And I’ve been a bank attorney for twenty-nine years. But this policy held airtight. Tom did everything he could to get his brother to work magic, but—”
“His brother?”
Knox looked over the rim of his glasses. “Bill Northcott was the insurance agent on this one.” Then he smiled. “This isn’t New York, Mr. McGrath. In this town, everybody’s related to somebody.”
Quinn studied the other man and decided to follow his instinct on this. “Mr. Knox, did you really think the wording on that policy was legitimate? Did you think it made any sense at all to cover flood, but not wind damage? Look at Section Fourteen, Point Nine.”
Knox took a deep breath and gently set the papers down, not looking at any section or point. “It held up airtight, son. Windstorm damage is considered different from flood protection and we didn’t have any flooding with that storm. There was no way the adjuster could make the case.” Evidently that was his standard line on this case. “The insurance company stood behind it and Bill Northcott did what he could. It’s a shame for that young lady who owns the resort.” His gaze dropped over Quinn’s expensive suit. “But it sure works in your favor, doesn’t it?”
And yours. Foreclosure gets the loan off the books as a write off. Marine Federal gets a new customer, and the thirty-some condos they built could be funneled right into thirty-some new mortgages. Not to mention the nice little bonus for an insurance agent who saved his parent company a couple of hundred thousand.
Quinn took the papers off the desk and slid them back into his briefcase. “I think I’ll take a ride over to visit Bill Northcott now. Is he located on St. Joseph’s?”
“Oh, no. Not anymore. He took a transfer to California.”
Convenient. “Who’s handling his clients?”
“Not sure about that. The ones that were bank customers got folded into our mortgage department. Would you like me to get you the name for the person handling Mar Brisas now?” He reached for a rolodex on his desk. “I think that would be—”
“Unnecessary.” Quinn stood. “I think I’ll take a trip to the country club and track down Tom.”
Knox laughed softly and shook his head. “Oh, he won’t be in the restaurant. Somebody took him golfing.”
“Really?” Quinn feigned surprise.
Knox shot him a meaningful look. “I believe it was another commercial real estate person from the Chicago area. Someone else who’s been as active as Jorgensen in St. Joseph’s.” Of course. The other buyer.
Quinn lifted his briefcase. “I’m sure he’ll find five minutes for me.”
“Mr. McGrath, may I make a suggestion?” The lawyer lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose and erased all of the insincere warmth from his expression. “You might just leave well enough alone there. That way, we’ll all win.”
Quinn looked hard at him, his gut kicking into overdrive.
Nicole only felt a teensy bit guilty about staying with Freddie all day and not even calling the office to talk to Sally. But after dinner, she decided to head back to the resort and check in, something she—and Freddie—knew could have been handled with one phone call. Freddie said nothing and Nicole loved her for that.
The offices were empty but Sally had arranged for part-time help at the front desk. There were a few guests in the lobby. The phone rang twice while she reviewed the day’s reservations, which were nearing the magic number they needed to claim the grand prize of No Vacancy.
With an ever-lightening heart, Nicole decided to take a quick walk around the property before checking her e-mail and returning to Freddie’s. As she reached the pool, she gave in to the urge to look up. At the roof. She gasped so loud, a few of the guests at tables stared at her in surprise.
The new tiles covered twice the space they had when she left. How had he done that?
Unable to contain herself, Nicole dashed into the lobby and ran up the stairwell to the top floor. She had a master key in her purse, which she used to open the storage suite.
The balcony doors were wide open and the ladder stood at the edge, leading up to the roof. She swallowed a sigh. Quinn should know better than to leave it that way at night. She walked over to it and simply couldn’t resist the temptation to check out his work. She glanced down at the short cotton skirt and flat sandals she’d changed into at Freddie’s. Oh well. She’d navigated the roof in worse shoes.
Carefully watching her footing, Nicole pulled herself up to the first level. She picked the right spot, steadied her feet and looked up.
“Well. Hello.”
The greeting surprised her so much she wobbled for a second, but a strong arm was around her before she lost her balance. She stared at him.
Good God. It was Quinn. Only it wasn’t. He had sandier hair and dark blue eyes. And the same magnificent body.
Speechless, she looked beyond him. There was another one. This one had Quinn’s dark hair and eyes, but it was tied back into a devilish little ponytail and a tiny gold earring glinted in the setting sun.
Nicole opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.
“I’m Cameron,” the one who held her said with a smile and a little tilt of his head. Oh no. Not another tilter. “And this is Colin.”
A mewing sound of understanding escaped her lips. “Oh, you’re…the brothers.”
Colin laughed, a low, sexy sound that had that same honey-sweetened tone of his brother. “And you must be the Lady in Blue. We read about you on the way over.”
For a moment, the world swayed and she grabbed the strong arm of Cameron McGrath for support. “Where’s Quinn?”
“Golfing.”
“Golfing?” She looked up at Cameron to make sure she understood him. “He had you two fly all the way here to finish this roof and then went golfing?”
He winked at her. “Yeah. Isn’t that just like him?”
Nicole sighed and looked from one to the other, taking in the family resemblance, but seeing distinct differences, as well. “I wouldn’t know,” she said. “I don’t know him very well.”
Colin’s darkly handsome face registered surprise. “That’s not what Quinn says.”
Her tummy flipped. “What does Quinn say?” She felt, but didn’t actually witness, Cameron shake his head at his younger brother. “What did he say?” she asked again.
Nicole caught a teasing twinkle in Colin’s eye. “He said he’s in—”
“—trouble.” Quinn’s voice came from behind them and they all turned at once to see him hoist himself on the roof. “I’m in trouble ’cause I promised the roofing crew dinner, but I ran late.” He gaze fell on Nicole, making her insides flutter and leaving her even more unsteady.
She swallowed at the picture he made. Tan and strong, his white business shirt unbuttoned at the collar, pulled neatly over his broad, square shoulders and sleeves rolled over sinewy forearms. The sun had kissed his cheeks and left the slightest auburn tint on the tips of his dark hair.
“So, how’d you play?” she asked, letting a sarcastic note float over her words.
“Like I always do. To win.” He took a step onto the roof and dug into his pocket, then flipped a key to Cameron, who caught it without so much as a stumble. “You guys are off duty. I left pizza and beer in the villa. I need to talk to Nicole.”
She shook her head. “That’s okay. You spend time with your brothers. I’m…I’m going to leave.”
Quinn pinned her in place with the sheer force of his look. “Then you’ll miss hearing about how I beat Tom Northcott.”
She felt her jaw go slack in surprise, a wa
ve of resentment rolling through her. “You were golfing with Tom Northcott?”
“No.” His lips curled in a half smile. “I said I beat him. Not at golf. At his own game.”
She tried to make sense of what he was saying, but couldn’t. “What’s his game?”
“Some people might call it an insurance scam. Some people might call it fraud. Tom and I, well, we just agreed to call it a bank error and keep it out of the local papers altogether.”
She almost lost her footing. “Excuse me?”
“Steady there, sweetheart.” He took a step closer and held out a hand toward her. “You don’t want to go pick up that check tomorrow on crutches now, do you?”
“Check?” The word came out as a croak. “What check?”
As he reached her, he slid his hands around her neck, into her hair and lifted her face toward him. “The insurance check for a hundred fifty-thousand dollars. Windstorm damage.”
“Oh, Mac!” She almost fainted at the touch and scent of him and the glorious words he spoke. “How? What did you do? Oh, God, how can I ever thank you?”
His sexy smile melted her right down to the bone. “Oh, trust me. I’ll think of something.”
Twelve
He barely reached her mouth for the kiss he’d thought about all day when she started spewing questions. How, when, what, why?
“Shh. Wait.” He put a finger on her lips and turned to see Cameron grinning like a fool. “You were absolutely right about the separate-loss mitigation on the windstorm damage deductible, Cam, and that requirement of notification from the state.”
Cameron nodded. “I suspected if it was New York law, it’d work down here, too.”
“And the building code effectiveness grading?” Colin asked. “Did the roof geometry affect the mean damage ratio?”
Quinn was aware of Nicole’s puzzled expression, her gaze darting from one to the other, but he looked at Colin and pointed at the rebel with a ponytail and earring. A damn bright rebel. “You were dead on, bro.” Then he grinned at Nicole. “It sure helps to have a banker with a law degree and an architect in the family.”