“She didn’t tell you my name, though, right? She left it in some notebook that you found when she died? Did you ever meet her family?”
“Her parents were dead, and she was an only child.”
“You really know nothing about her except what she fabricated since she moved here.”
She closed her eyes, unable to deny that. “She never seemed anything but one hundred percent genuine.”
“Are you a good judge of character?”
She didn’t answer at first, then lifted a shoulder in admission. “I’m a better judge of things on paper, I’ll admit. I can spot a phony legal document a mile away, but…” She sighed. “I do things impulsively, and maybe I trust too easily.”
He put his hand over hers, a sympathy he didn’t quite understand but couldn’t deny taking hold. “Let’s do a little investigating, then. Maybe my friend who lives in Key West can help, too. We both deserve to know the truth.”
“Remember, I work in the County Clerk’s office, and that gives me access to a lot of official documents, from every county in the country. I can dig into that name, Bailey Banks, and of course, more about her parents and childhood in Arizona.”
“If she was even from there. Sorry, Liza, but everything about her is suspect. Is she even really dead?”
Liza closed her eyes. “I identified her body after the accident.”
“I’m sorry.” He added some pressure to her hand, wanting her to know he meant that. “How did Dylan handle that?”
“Not well,” she said. “He misses her, although I think he’s forgetting about her as each month passes. He’s always had me, and my mother, who adores him. I’ve been like a mother to him from the day he was born.” She slipped her hand out from underneath Nate’s, taking a second to nibble on her lip as she chose her next words carefully. “I need you to know something.”
He nodded, waiting.
“I won’t give him up easily, no matter what we find out about Carrie or what a DNA test says or what you want to do. I will fight for him because I love him with every cell in my body. His mother named me legal guardian, and that will carry a lot of weight in court.”
Court? “The last thing I want to do is drag this to court.”
“Then sign the paper and let me have him to raise and love,” she said. “You can...” She closed her eyes as if the words pained her. “You can see him.”
Two responses played in his head. Maybe I will was one. The other was the truth, so he said it. “He’s an Ivory.”
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“It means he’s…family.”
“Define family,” she shot back. “I’ve been with him since he took his first breath, first step, first bath and first birthday. I rock him to sleep every night. I take him to the park and supervise playdates and make sure he eats right. Except for a few strands of DNA, I am his mother.”
“And because of a few strands of DNA, I could be his father.”
For a long time, they just stared at each other, neither one willing or able to say a word. He studied her mysterious eyes, dark with distrust and fear and more alluring and beautiful than anything he could remember seeing in a long time.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
Was he? “I don’t know. I guess because you’re so pretty.”
She inched back. “Now? You’re going to hit on me now in the middle of the biggest crisis of either one of our lives?”
“I’m not hitting on you, Liza. Though I do wish we’d met under different circumstances.”
“Like what? A party on your yacht? What did you say? Bare-ass naked with some guy’s wife’s hand on your—”
“Shhh.” He put his finger over her lip to stop the words from spewing out. For reasons he’d never, ever understand, a low burn of embarrassment started in his gut. He didn’t want this lovely, caring, maternal young woman, who clearly gave with all her heart and soul, to even think about his...lifestyle.
“Listen, Key West is a couple of hours away on my boat. Let’s go together and see what we can find out about her.”
For a second, he was sure she was about to say no to the invitation, but then she stunned him with a direct look and a simple answer. “Yes, I’ll go.”
After they exchanged numbers and made plans for him to pick her up the next day, she climbed out of the car, pointedly not issuing an invitation for him to come inside. Instead, she walked slowly away from his car.
Then her front door flew open, and Nate glanced back to see Dylan running toward the street, arms outstretched. “N-A-T-E! I spell your name! N-A-T-E!”
The letters were screamed so loud, he heard them through the closed windows. Liza scooped the child up in her arms to carry him in without even looking back at Nate’s car.
She was his mother, for all intents and purposes. But if he was his father...he simply had to know. And then?
He had no idea.
Chapter Six
He sent a limo for her. And a remote-control-operated toy sports car for Dylan. Liza didn’t know whether to be thrilled or disappointed, but she was a little of both when the driver closed the door with a solid thud. With Mom waving goodbye from the driveway and Dylan dancing with excitement for his new toy, Liza dropped her head back on the cool leather and closed her eyes.
Everything smelled...rich. Was this just like the limo where he and Carrie...
Don’t, Liza. Don’t think about that.
This would be a fact-finding mission, a day trip to the Keys and back, a chance to smooth out the wrinkles in this messy situation. This trip was so impersonal that he sent a car and driver rather than picking her up himself. She had to remember that and put her mother’s musings and any of her own really stupid secret fantasies to sleep while she focused on finding out what they could about Carrie Cassidy.
She held on to that thought until the limo driver pulled into the harbor on Mimosa Key and the first thing she saw was Nathaniel Ivory waiting on the dock next to the cabin cruiser she’d been on yesterday.
Bathed in sunshine, the breeze whipping his hair into a tousled mess, he stood with his hands on narrow hips, wearing khakis and a faded blue button-down shirt that fit his broad shoulders like it was custom-made for him—well, duh. Everything was custom-made for him.
His sleeves were rolled up to show corded forearms, the top button undone to reveal a peek of that impressive chest. His thick hair brushed the collar of his shirt with a hint of wave, the sun picking up the strands of burnished gold among the much darker shades.
He looked unreal, like a Photoshopped model who’d just stepped off the pages of a Nautica ad.
Who wouldn’t buy what he was selling?
He approached the limo and opened the door before the driver even got out, dipping over to give her a dazzling smile. “Hope you don’t mind the ride.”
She laughed. “Yeah, all this leather and luxury. Really sucks.”
“I wanted to get you, but I had some things I had to take care of on board.” He reached for her hand to help her out, glancing up to the driver as he got out of the front. “Is her bag in the back?”
“My bag?” Liza stepped into the sunshine, warmed by it and the thought that he expected her to bring a bag. “Won’t we be back tonight?”
“It’s about a four-hour cruise down there, and I don’t know how long it will take us to poke around Key West, and there might be some weather tonight.”
Was he proposing they get a hotel or sleep on his boat? It was sizable, but she’d seen only one cabin. She leaned around his shoulder to check out the vessel again. “It looks pretty seaworthy to me.”
“Good Lord, Liza, I wouldn’t take you to the Keys on that.” With a strong hand on her shoulder, he turned her to look beyond the harbor to the open water. “We’re taking my other boat.”
She couldn’t do anything but stare. “I thought that was...” A freaking cruise ship. “Someone else’s.”
“N’Vidrio? I’ve been practically
living on her for years.”
It was a floating castle of a super-mega-over-the-top yacht, complete with colorful flags and a helicopter pad. “What does the name mean? Other than ‘biggest boat in the damn ocean’?”
He laughed. “It’s not. N for Nate. Vidrio is Spanish for glass, which is the basis of my family’s fortune, and it’s also close to the word for envy.”
“Which everyone feels when they see that yacht.” She turned back to the thirty-foot cabin cruiser. “And this is what? Your ferry boat?”
“Precisely. There’s a utility garage on the lower deck of the yacht to house this.”
His utility boat was nicer than some vessels the millionaires in Naples had. “Well, I didn’t bring a bag,” she finally said, still trying to get her head around the fact that she was going to the Keys on that yacht.
“No worries. We have everything you need on board. My sister, Beth, travels with me a lot, so her stateroom is full of anything a woman needs, and you’re about the same size. If not, we can have some clothes delivered. There are personal shoppers in Key West.”
Of course there were. She gave a smile and let it slide into a soft laugh. “Your life,” she said, shaking her head, “is not like anything I’ve ever imagined.”
“Then relax and enjoy it,” he said, guiding her toward the boat. “Let’s try to think of this as an adventure rather than a mission.”
By the time they pulled out of the harbor, Liza started to relax. The breeze picked up, just chilly enough to make her glad she wore a sweater, and the briny smells of the sea made her enjoy a deep inhale and the rumble of high-octane inboard motors behind her.
An adventure rather than a mission.
Could she get that mind-set for this excursion? She peeked out from under her lashes to watch Nate steer them toward his yacht, enjoying the view of him as much as the glorious day on the water. It certainly was...adventurous.
How did a person actually live like this?
Every minute made her more convinced that she couldn’t let Dylan be sucked into this life. There was nothing normal about it. Everything about Nate was too big, too much, too rich, too wild.
Nate angled the wheel and brought the boat around to aim right at the massive white vessel. Four stories and well over a hundred feet long, gleaming white with glossy black windows, N’Vidrio was nothing short of breathtaking.
“Wow.”
He turned from the helm as they motored up to the back end of the yacht and two men in matching navy shirts came out to greet them. “It does have a wow factor,” he conceded. “But most of the time, it’s just home for me.”
She stood and joined him, shouldering her handbag and bracing her legs for the docking. “Do you really live here?”
“When I am traveling near water, yeah. But the harbor in Mimosa Key is too small, so I keep it out here. I’m opening an office in the resort, as you know, so I’ll split my time between here and there.”
Because living at a resort was more normal than on a megayacht. One of the crewmen helped her on board, and Nate joined her, giving her a guided tour through the first deck, then the second, and by the time they reached the main living level, she’d seen so much leather and brass and marble and crystal, her head was spinning.
He took her to the bridge and introduced her to Captain Vicary, whose warmth and experience immediately put Liza at ease. After that, they moved to a private outdoor lounge with a Jacuzzi, a dining table, and a bar—staffed, of course, by another navy-shirted crew member.
“I ordered some lunch,” he said as they settled across from each other on white leather lounge chairs. “Would you like a drink?”
When in Rome, right? “I’ll have what you’re having.”
He stepped away and spoke to the bartender, leaving Liza alone for a moment. She soaked up the view, caressed the butter-soft lounge chair, and then opened her bag to see if she had any texts from Mom.
She did, a picture of Dylan and his new car.
When Nate came back with two Bloody Marys, she turned the phone for him to see. “Thank you, by the way. He was in heaven.”
“C-A-R?” he asked, smiling at the picture.
“Spelled so many times, I couldn’t wait to get in the L-I-M-O.”
He handed her the drink and sat across from her, holding his for a toast. “Here’s to Dylan, then. He’s a great kid.”
She didn’t drink right away, gauging exactly what the wistfulness in his voice could mean. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”
He sipped, lifting a brow. “About him being mine and what that means? Of course. That’s why we’re here, right? To find out the truth about…her.”
“You can’t even say her name.”’
“I don’t know what it was, evidently,” he shot back. “She wasn’t really my type.”
She let out a soft grunt. “But that didn’t stop you from—”
He held up his hand, palm out, silencing her. “I don’t think my bad choices are a big surprise to anyone, including you. For what it’s worth, I’m trying—and succeeding—to change my wicked ways.”
“No more casual limo hookups?” she asked. “Why?”
He picked up the glass and studied the red liquid, toying with the leaves of the crisp celery stick garnish. “Those days are over.” He slipped into a rueful smile. “They have to be.”
She sat a little straighter, not sure what he was saying. Was it because of Dylan? “Why?”
“Because of...” He shook his head. “Look, Liza, I’ve had a good time. A professional partier. A wild lifestyle. But I’ve made a promise to settle down, and I plan on keeping it.”
“A promise to who?”
“The Colonel.” He shrugged, as if she might not know who that was. “Also known as ‘Grandfather,’ but he really hates to be called that. Thinks it sounds too soft.”
She knew the famous patriarch of the Ivory clan, married to “Mimsy,” as they called his eighty-year-old wife, both as famous as the king and queen of a country. “So you promised your grandparents, not your parents?” she asked.
“My parents?” He let out a dry laugh, then took a deep drink. “My mother lives in Belgium, a virtual recluse. My father is on his...fourth wife? I lost track and can’t stand any of them. But suffice it to say he’s in no position to pass judgment on how I live my personal life. No, the only opinion that matters in our family is that of one old ex-Marine who has some very impressive purse strings.”
She couldn’t help curling her lip. “That’s kind of sad, don’t you think?”
“What’s sad is the Colonel thinking I’m a waste of the Ivory name.” A wholly different kind of wistfulness colored his tone, surprising her.
“So you’re cleaning up your act?” she asked. When he nodded, she added, “What’s driving that? The purse strings or what your grandfather might think?”
“Not the purse strings. I have my trust fund, and no one can take it from me. No, it’s his opinion that matters to me,” he admitted.
Liza shifted on the lounge chair, taking a minute to have another spicy sip, letting the sunshine and alcohol and surprising confessions warm her. “For as much cyberstalking, as you call it, that I’ve done, I don’t know much about your grandfather. He doesn’t get as much media coverage as the rest of you.”
“That’s because he’s the behind-the-scenes manipulator.”
“Is that how he got so rich?”
He lifted his Bloody Mary and tapped the side. “This made him rich.”
Ivory Glass was one of the most well-known brands in the world, as common as Kleenex and Coca-Cola. “Did he invent it?” she asked.
“Actually, his father did. The first James Ivory was a glassblower in Upstate New York at the turn of the twentieth century. He created the compound that made the glass nearly unbreakable but didn’t do much with it. When my grandfather was still in the Marines, working his way up the ranks after the war, he already knew his dad was sitting on a pile of gold. By
the time he left the military as a colonel, he didn’t let the wound that gave him a lifelong limp stop him. The post-World War II building boom happened, he mined that gold, making sure Ivory glass windows went into every new skyscraper in America. The rest is family history.”
A history she knew in rough detail. The Colonel and his wife had six overachiever kids and they had kids. Everyone in the family either stayed in the business as it sat on top of the Fortune 500 list or went on to politics, entertainment, finance, real estate, or business.
“Ivory always turns to gold,” she said, quoting a common expression about the family.
“Or a party.” He set the glass down with a thud. “But, like I said, I’m out to change that.”
“Is that why you’ve taken this role as the manager of the Barefoot Bay Bucks?”
“One of the reasons. Starting a minor-league team, building a stadium, yeah, the project has really given me a focus, and I’m stoked for the job and working with such good friends. But there are more steps in my non-evil plan.” He made a sweeping grand gesture toward the yacht. “You might notice the distinct lack of dancing girls and drinking boys, also known as the regulars on N’Vidrio.”
“Dancing girls?”
“A euphemism for...”
“The blondes in the hot tub you referred to the other day.”
He didn’t answer right away, but his golden-brown gaze turned warm as he regarded her. “I don’t even like blondes.”
Heat curled through her, unexpected and unwanted and way, way too strong. She should look away. She should make a quip or stand up or remind him that Carrie was a blonde. She should do a lot of things other than stare right back for five, six, seven straight heartbeats.
Holy hell, she realized with a start. I could like this man.
In fact, she already did.
* * *
When they were close to Key West, the captain tracked south around Tank Island to work the ship to one of the few docks near town large enough to accommodate her. Nate was taking Liza to the bridge to enjoy the process of watching Vicary in action, when his chief steward signaled him for a private conversation.
Scandal on the Sand Page 6
