by EC Sheedy
With Lambert, the absentee-father thing would play against him in court. Perfect.
But Camryn . . . He scratched a brow. Damned if he hadn’t come full circle. Years ago he’d ruined her father, and here he was about to repeat the exercise on the daughter. But Trent Derne was a born loser: greedy, dishonest, and possessed of a supersized ego. The daughter—as the saying went—was a different kettle of fish.
But everyone had either a past they wanted hidden or a weakness to be exploited. All he had to do was find hers.
Going back to Seattle was the first step. He’d start working on step two when he got there.
Adam was bored shitless.
He’d been stashed away, limited to the far end of the second floor in this decorator’s psycho ward for too damn long. Jesus, Delores must have been on crack when she did this place. Big, bizarre, butt-ugly—and ripe for a reality-show cleanup job.
And Gina was treating him like her very own dirty little secret, insisting he stay in his room until she “sorted things out”—whatever the hell that meant. He’d been a good little boy so far because he needed to keep her happy, but damned if he wasn’t burning up with cabin fever.
Not to mention running out of time.
He stood by the window, looked at the lake, and thought about the running path that started somewhere near the Solari property and connected to the park two, maybe three miles away.
He sure could use the fresh air and the workout. So far the only thing getting any exercise was his dick.
He’d forgotten how insatiable Gina was.
Not that he was complaining. Hell, he’d take all the sex he could get—but he hadn’t come here to be stowed away in a room for on-demand stud service.
Trouble was, he wasn’t in the mood to have his face rearranged either, so he’d stayed low to keep out of good old brother Sebastian’s way. That asshole had hated him since college, and Adam was never sure if the loathing was because of Gina or Holly or both. Gina said he’d been “unbalanced” since Holly died, and that he’d blamed Adam for her death. Shit, as if he would ever hurt Holly. Jesus, the words “deranged” and “delusional” were created for Sebastian Solari!
But damn it . . . He was going stir crazy. As for that “unbalanced” thing Gina mentioned, Adam figured it must run in the family. Lots of brainpower, but more than a few misfiring neurons scattered among the Solaris.
He ran a finger along the top of an ugly lacquered bureau edged in chipped gilt. He was in what Delores called her Harem Room—which in her skewed universe meant beads, fringes, some kind of filmy drapery, and camels, lots of camels. Even the bedspread had camels. He brushed the dust from his hands. Sticky dust, the kind that had been here for a while.
Surely old Delores had enough coin for a goddamn maid. Hell, there’d been a time she’d been rolling in it— thanks to some lucrative marriages and her own savvy business sense. Gina said she’d blown most it, took living beyond her means to a high art, then went more crazy than usual after her last husband left and took her for a bundle.
Adam understood the “living beyond the means” thing, which gave him and Delores something else to share—along with those few nights of bonking a few years back. Back then the mother was even hotter than the daughter, with the added bonus of experience. He smiled. He’d learned a lot from Delores Solari.
But shit… this place, every decoratively mangled square foot of it, was depressing. It’d take a crew of five, wielding high-powered blowers for a week, just to get rid of the dust.
He paced away from the window, then back to it. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he stared outside. The lake glittered a silvery yellow under the morning sun. The old boathouse was still there, listing left now, and tied to it was a half-sunken rowboat. On the dock, a faded red canoe lay bottom up on the cedar planking.
The day was very fine. Too fine to be cooped up inside this hellish place.
To hell with it. He was out of here. He dressed quickly in a sleeveless tee and nylon running shorts, sat on the bed, and pulled on his Nikes.
He glanced at his watch. Almost nine A.M. If he didn’t get out of here right now, Gina would arrive for her morning fuck, which he’d be obliged to provide, considering she’d finally—and grudgingly—agreed to “look into” his problem for him. And, God, hadn’t that conversation been ugly. Seemed Gina wasn’t too keen on the idea of him becoming a daddy at Camryn’s expense. What got her interested was when he got her thinking about his staying close by, needing her help with Kylie. As if. But at least she’d called Camryn, got some info, and got the ball rolling.
Camryn.
Holly had left her as guardian, never changed a thing. Old Grantman must be having apoplexy, but, according to Gina, it didn’t hurt Adam’s case one bit. Might even make it easier. It turned out Grantman had already offered Camryn cash for Kylie—which meant Adam’s plan was doable. All he had to do now was get his daughter back from Camryn, then give old moneybags a call. Gina said she would take care of everything. What she couldn’t take care of was Lando. Lando—and timing—were Adam’s problem. So, like it or not, he was here for the duration, playing the sex game with Gina.
Camryn . . .
He sucked up some air and stood away from the bed.
That woman was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him—until Holly—and probably the only woman who’d never let him in her bed again. Although it might be fun to try her on. He scratched his chin.
Heading for the door, he decided to take the back way out, a detour around Delores’s room. Christ, he was thirty-five years old, and he felt like a goddamn teenager sneaking out for a six-pack.
But he needed the run, and the running path, as luck would have it, ran very close to Camryn’s place.
Chapter 14
Camryn pulled her chair to her desk, held the vase closer to the light, and reexamined the markings. Definitely Tiffany. About 1915 was her guess. Under the lamp the vase gleamed to life, its pattern, olive-colored leaves curling upward to wrap gracefully around the vase’s neck, looked silky and rich. When she ran her finger over its opalescent surface, she got that tingle; the one she always got when she held something rare and beautiful in her hands.
The vase was a rarity, having come in as a consignment piece from an estate sale along with three unexceptional dinner services. She suspected the Tremblay family had no idea of its value and would be both surprised and pleased.
She should be pleased, too, given the nice commission the vase would earn for her, if only she weren’t dreading Dan Lambert’s return visit, which could come at any time. The man was determined to resume the conversation so abruptly aborted yesterday when Kylie and Camryn’s dad had come back to interrupt it. Camryn really didn’t want to talk to Dan Lambert again until she’d talked to Gina. She went cold thinking about what Dan had said. Adam was at Gina’s house—Delores’s house. It couldn’t be.
She picked up the phone, again keyed in Gina’s number. Nothing. Not even voice mail, because Delores didn’t believe in it. She looked at her watch, then at the top of her desk, and let out a frustrated breath. She made a decision: she’d get the Tremblay inventory entered into the computer, do her tax remittance, and head over to the Solari estate. She’d stand at the gate and ring the damn bell until someone answered.
God, Gina could hardly plead agoraphobia and not be home.
“Cammie, are you up there?”
“Yes, Dad.” Phone in hand, she stood and went to the top of the stairs. Her dad, his fingers curled around the newel, was at their base. “What is it?” she asked.
“I’m making a snack for Kylie and me. Want one?”
“No, thanks. I’ll be up here a while yet.” She hit redial for one last try. “You okay with Kylie for a while?” She put the phone to her ear. It was still ringing. Damn it, she’d let it ring. Maybe if it got irritating enough, someone would answer.
“Sure,” her dad said. “We’re going to watch that kid’s program, right after w
e eat. The one with the pink gorilla? Seems our girl has a thing for pink.”
Camryn smiled. Her dad’s devotion to Kylie continued to surprise her. She didn’t remember getting the same treatment, only a void where a father should have been. But she didn’t have time for little-girl jealousy now. She was too grateful for his help. “Thanks. I won’t be long.”
He waved and left the bottom of the stairs.
“Hello?”
Camryn had forgotten the phone in her hand was still ringing, and the voice startled her. “Delores?”
“No, it’s the queen of England.”
Camryn rolled her eyes. “This is Camryn, Delores. Can I speak to Gina, please?”
“What about?”
Camryn set her jaw, determined to be pleasant. With Delores it was an ongoing challenge. “Nothing you’d be interested in, and it’ll only take a minute. Can you call her, please?” She sure as hell wasn’t going to mention Adam’s name to Delores, and give her more fodder for her nasty grist mill. That would only make Gina’s life more miserable than it already was.
“No. She’s in her room. Third floor, you know. She says she’s sick. Barely seen her for days. Can you believe that? And me in this chair.”
Camryn didn’t intend to attend Delores’s pity party. “I’ll come over then. In about an hour. Will you tell her that?”
“It won’t do you any good. She won’t see you. She won’t see anybody. I had to make my own lunch, for God’s sake, and me a cripple.” The sound of chewing crunched down the line. “I might as well be living with a ghost.”
Camryn gave one desperate look at the piles of work on her desk, then made her decision. The tax remittance could wait. “If she’s that sick, I’ll come over right now.”
The line filled with silence.
“Delores?”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“She’s got some guy with her. Hell, you can hear the rocking and rolling all the way to the main floor.”
Camryn swore her heart stopped. “What do you mean ‘some guy’?”
“Jesus, Camryn, where have you been, under a cabbage? A guy! You know, one of those superior beings with the appendage that lets them pee in the woods.” She hung up.
Camryn stared at the dead phone, her heart, which seconds ago had stopped in her chest, now thumped so hard it hurt her ears. It can’t be Adam, it absolutely can’t be. Gina wouldn’t be so stupid. No woman in her right mind would go back for more of that kind of heartache.
Holly did.
Pressing a hand on her chest, she headed for the stairs.
The sound of singing gorillas came from the den. She got a jacket from the hall closet, then went into the den. She kissed the top of Kylie’s head, stroked it. “Aunt Cammie’s going out for a bit, sweetheart, but I’ll be back in time for Kidz-Spot, Okay?” Kidz-Spot was a mother-child preschool play program at the local recreation center. This would be their second day to attend.
“Okay.” Kylie got to her feet and, standing on the sofa, gave Camryn a distracted hug and kiss, quickly turning her attention back to the TV, making it obvious her aunt was no competition for apes in pink tutus.
Camryn glanced at her dad. “I have to see Gina. It’s important. Do you mind?”
He shook his head, seeming as enthralled by the TV program as Kylie was.
Camryn left them to it and headed down the hall toward the kitchen door. Her car was in a garage she accessed from the lakeside of the house. She was zipping up her jacket as she opened the back door.
Her hand froze to the metal pull-up tab when she saw who stood on the other side, hand raised as if to knock.
“Hey, Cammie, how’s it going?”
Adam Dunn.
He smiled down at her, his straight white teeth made even whiter by the contrast to the faint stubble on his handsome face. The face that launched a thousand beds—that’s what Gina, Holly, and Camryn had called it before they all started hating him. It was meant to be derogatory, ironic. It was also true. Female heads didn’t simply turn when they saw Adam Dunn for the first time; they spun—fast enough to damage their brains. Camryn should know; it had happened to her.
She still couldn’t find her voice. He was even better-looking than she remembered. The years had matured his too-pretty face; given it tight, masculine lines; and deepened the color of his sinfully blue eyes. At an even six feet, his body was lean, tan, and muscular. Adam always took care of his assets.
“Surprised?” Hands on hips; thick, silky hair disheveled; his jaw dark with shadow, he raised a brow. “Are you going to invite me in?”
The last place on earth she wanted Adam was in her house, near her dad. Near Kylie. She gathered up her wits, stepped outside, and closed the door behind her. “Come with me.” She brushed past him and headed for the porch stairs leading to the garage.
“Can I have a glass of water first?” He was still smiling when he rubbed his chest. He’d been running, running hard by the look of him. Sweat dampened the front of his sleeveless tee, and his leanly muscled biceps glistened with it. She glanced up at him. His eyes smiled into hers, teased old memories; it was like a sucker punch to the stomach. Even after everything between them—all of it bad—Camryn’s body responded and her breathing hitched, and she hated herself for it. Adam Dunn was still a sexual tsunami.
“No.” She started down the stairs.
He laughed easily, then followed her.
When they were out of sight of the house, she rounded on him. “What are you doing here?”
He leaned against the garage, one knee cocked so his foot was flat against the old boards. “Being friendly,” he said. “You remember you and I being friendly, don’t you, Camryn?” He ran his liquid gaze over her, toe to head, his eyes warm and appreciative. The kind of look that made a woman feel ten years younger, ten pounds lighter, and ten minutes away from the best orgasm of her life. “You look good. Better than good. Spectacular.”
“And you’re not answering my question.” When it looked as if he were going to touch her cheek, she took a step back, stumbled.
“You do remember, don’t you?” he said, dropping his hand to his side. “The night on the lake, you and I making out on the picnic table.” His gaze deepened. “I know I haven’t forgotten. What man could?”
He hadn’t moved, but the intimacy in his gaze made it seem as if he had. And damn it, his words brought it back—all of it. The hot sex. The love she’d had for him, or thought she had. And the ugliness of it. Like the moment she’d walked in on him and Holly in the aptly named Cozy Inn motel room. Thank God, Gina had told her where they were, encouraged her to see Adam for who he was. “I remember you were a faithless bastard who slept with anything that wore a skirt—or tight jeans.”
His smile was easy, confident. “I was much more discriminating than that.” He eyed her with amusement. “Although you got the ‘tight’ part right. Definitely a prerequisite.”
She ignored his last words and his sexy smile. “As much fun as it might be for you to review your conquests, can we stick to the matter at hand? What are you doing here?”
“Checking out the latest crop of virgins?”
“Very funny.” She folded her arms.
“I thought so,” he said, then shrugged easily. “I heard about the Solaris, the shooting. I thought I’d drop in, see how Gina was doing, pay my respects.”
She snorted, loud and ingloriously. “You don’t know what the word ‘respect’ means. Try again.”
His seductive mouth curved into a boyish grin, and he touched his chest over his heart. “You hurt me, baby, you really do.”
“I’m not your ‘baby,’ and you know as much about ‘hurt’ as you do ‘respect.’ I know you, Adam. You don’t ‘drop in’ unless you want something.”
He shoved away from the garage wall, and his expression turned . . . serious. At least it seemed so. You never could be sure with Adam. He ran his fingers through his tangle of sleek
chestnut hair, then looked away from her. “I was in Boston when Holly was killed, you know. I couldn’t go to the funeral”—he glanced back at her—“for the obvious reason.”
His tragic pose didn’t move her. “And what reason would that be? Grantman? Because he’d kill you on sight? Or Dan Lambert? Who’d do the same.” —and here she watched him carefully— “because you were having an affair with his wife.”
“You know.” He was unperturbed.
“I do now.” Camryn’s stomach clenched, filled up with the ugly truth she could no longer deny. Oh, Holly, you fool. You complete and utter fool.
“Holly was never his, Camryn. You know that. What was between Holly and me, it was pure chemistry. She knew it. I knew it. We never really lost touch. Like the song says, Holly was mine from hello—” He stopped, his face tinged with melancholy. “Hell, maybe I was always hers. Who the hell knows?”
“You left her fast enough when she got pregnant with your child.” Camryn didn’t try to hide her contempt.
“Ah, the magic words. My child.” He rested his amazing eyes on her. “You wanted to know why I was here? There’s your answer.”
Camryn couldn’t get her breath. She couldn’t have heard right. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’ve come for what’s mine. Kylie.” He took a few steps away, then turned back. “She’s my daughter. I have a right.”
Camryn’s world went gray, then black, then blazing red. “Right? You have no rights. You gave them up when Kylie was born. Holly made sure of it.”
“Under duress. Under extreme duress. Undue pressure.”
He looked smooth. Sly. As if he were already in the witness stand, playing the deprived and misused father. As if he were already being coached. She didn’t like it, didn’t like to think where the coaching might have come from. “Duress you were well paid for, as I recall.”
“The money? The legal stuff? All Paul’s idea. Holly would never have done it on her own.”
“Really? Then why do you suppose she went to Paul— something she hated doing—for his help to get rid of you?” His arrogance overwhelmed her. That, and his utter incomprehension of what he had done. “You walked out on Holly two months before Kylie was born, for God’s sake. And you didn’t walk alone.” She huffed out a breath. “There was a woman, as I remember, but, then, with you, there’s always a woman.”
