by Jenn Roseton
The Lawman's Blackmailed Bride (BBW Romance - Billionaire Brothers 3)
by
Jenn Roseton
Copyright © 2014 by Jenn Roseton
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
This is a sexy contemporary romance novella.
DESCRIPTION
A sexy contemporary romance novella of approximately 28,000 words.
One split second can change your life … forever.
Blackmailed into silence when her boss cons a sweet old lady, Phoebe Lancaster “borrows” an ancient coin to get it valued by an honest dealer. On the run and fearing her nasty boss will catch her, she jumps into Cole Trask’s car.
Former cop turned private eye Cole is intrigued when Phoebe crashes into his life, and offers to help her in any way he can.
Driving across Wyoming to get the coin valued by her former mentor, Phoebe discovers she’s falling in love with Cole. Burned by her ex-boyfriend, she finds it hard at first to trust Cole with the coin, or to trust her feelings for him.
What is the real reason Cole is helping her? Even if his motives are genuine, could Cole ever really love a curvy girl like her?
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER 1
Phoebe Lancaster dashed out of the Cheyenne antiques store, her brown purse bumping against her hip. Scanning the intersection ahead of her, she darted right, risking a quick glance back. Footsteps pounded behind her.
She had to get away! A line of cars waited for the red light to turn green. Spying a silver SUV at the front of the queue, she took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle.
Praying she hadn’t made the most foolish decision of her life, she yanked open the door and dove in.
Jerking the seat belt across her generous chest, she met the startled gaze of the man behind the steering wheel. “Please,” she gasped. “Drive.”
***
Well, hell. Cole Trask stared at the disheveled woman sitting next to him. One second he was sitting in his vehicle on a sunny August afternoon, minding his own business, waiting for the light to change, the next, a whirlwind entered his SUV.
His eyes traveled over her, taking in her golden blond hair, and lush, curvy figure encased in a lavender blouse and dark skirt.
“Drive where?” He glanced at the red light, then flicked his gaze back to her.
“Anywhere.” Her voice was soft and husky, as if she were still catching her breath. She brushed back a strand of wavy hair that had escaped her ponytail and looked nervously out of the window. “Please.”
The light turned green. Her blue eyes silently implored him. Cole accelerated.
***
Phoebe sat back in the leather seat, clutching her purse with trembling hands. She hoped she’d done the right thing by jumping into the vehicle of a perfect stranger. Her parents had drummed in the perils of stranger danger since she’d been a child. But what other choice did she have? The alternative might have been worse.
Breathing a sigh of relief as they sped through downtown Cheyenne, she glanced back over her shoulder once more. No Victor. Or his crony Kurt. She’d done it.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” her companion inquired, raising a dark eyebrow at her, before returning his attention to the road.
Phoebe dug her fingernails into the faux leather of her bag. Should she tell him? Should she trust him?
She risked a glance at him. Until now she’d been too intent on scrambling into the car and buckling up to get a good look at him. His rich dark brown hair was cut short, as if he couldn’t bother to do more than run a comb through it in the mornings. A navy blue t-shirt molded itself to his muscular torso, tucked into faded blue jeans at his waist. And his face - although she could only see his profile at the moment - his faint three o’clock shadow, square chin and straight nose appealed to her on a level she’d never been aware of before.
“It’s … complicated,” she murmured, unable to tear her gaze away from him.
“Most situations usually aren’t that complicated when you get right down to it,” he informed her, slowing at a stop sign. “Right or left?”
Phoebe hesitated. Left would take her towards Laramie. Right would lead back to her apartment in a residential section of Cheyenne. “Left.” Swallowing hard, she hoped she’d made the right decision.
“Like to tell me where we’re going?” His gruff voice broke the silence.
She bit her lip. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
“What about home?” He looked over at her for a second.
“No!” She couldn’t go back to her apartment. Victor knew where she lived.
“Okay.” His voice became soothing. “If you’re in trouble, I might be able to help. I’m a private investigator. Cole Trask.”
She stared at him, her brow furrowing. When she’d jumped into his car she thought he looked vaguely familiar, but she knew she’d never met him before. It wasn’t often she met a man so attractive and she would have definitely remembered if he’d come into the store. But his name …
“Didn’t you save a little boy from being hit by a car a few weeks ago?” The news bulletin she’d seen on TV flashed through her mind.
“Yeah.” He looked a little embarrassed.
Phoebe glanced at him. A private eye who saved kids from being run over couldn’t be a bad guy, could he?
“I’m Phoebe Lan-- Phoebe.” Giving him her last name might be too risky. Although he seemed inherently trustworthy, after what had just happened with Victor, she was wary of anyone.
After all, she didn’t have a good track record when it came to men. Although she’d only had a couple of boyfriends in the past, her last one, Scott, had really shaken her faith in the opposite sex. They’d dated for a couple of months, and she’d thought they were starting to become serious, especially since he’d just told her he loved her, when he’d betrayed her trust by stealing her treasured antique Clarice Cliff vase. Once she discovered the geometrical patterned art deco vase had vanished, so had he. All along, he’d only been out for what he could get.
Thank goodness she hadn’t slept with him. Perhaps her subconscious had known that there was something a little off about him, and that was why she’d resisted his attempts to get her into bed, although his persistent kisses and sweet words of love had almost succeeded in weakening her resolve. After that fiasco, she just couldn’t see herself trusting any man. Maybe ever.
Cole merged onto the highway. “Want me to take you to Laramie, Phoebe?”
She shrugged, hesitating. “I guess.” Unzipping her purse, she felt around for the small, tissue-wrapped parcel nestled in a tiny inside pocket. Her fingers clutched it tightly for a moment, feeling the security of the cold metal through the soft wrapping before she withdrew her hand and zipped up her bag. She still couldn’t believe she’d taken the coin. But in that split-second, it had seemed the only thing to do.
Phoebe turned her head, looking through the rear window. She couldn’t see Victor’s
car following them. Relief swept through her. Maybe she was safe.
“So what do you do, Phoebe?” Cole asked.
I’m a thief. “I work in a store.”
“What kind of store?”
She frowned, glancing at his profile. He appeared to have all his attention on the road. “Antiques,” she said shortly.
“Don’t know much about antiques myself,” he replied. “But my brother Alex dabbles from time to time. He says they‘re a good investment.”
Phoebe winced. To her, antiques weren’t just possible investments. They were living, breathing objects that could tell a story. She’d often wished when a new antique arrived in the store that it could speak and tell her what it had experienced during the Civil War, or about life in a posh New York drawing room in the 1800s. She clutched her purse tighter. Or what ancient Rome was like.
“Own many antiques yourself?”
“No,” she said wistfully. “Only a couple.” Her first boss, Mr. Dawson, had given her a generous employee discount and she’d been able to buy a gorgeous writing desk with a matching chair a couple of years ago and the Clarice Cliff vase. But since Victor had bought the business, staff purchases were forbidden.
“How about I come to your store one day and you can give me some advice on what I should buy?” Cole asked.
“No! Don’t do that.”
***
Cole glanced over at her. He’d already decided there was no way he was just going to drop her off in Laramie. Whether she admitted it or not, Phoebe Lan-- and he hadn’t missed her not revealing her last name - was in trouble and he wasn’t just going to walk away and let her deal with her problem herself.
Besides having an inclination to help the underdog, something about this woman intrigued him. And it wasn’t just the way she’d entered his SUV. Cute freckles dusted her nose, and he had a sudden urge to lift a strand of her pretty blond hair to discover whether it felt as soft and silky as it looked. And her figure … he suddenly wondered why he’d ever dated a stick-thin woman.
“You better tell me what’s going on,” he urged. “I can’t help you if you don’t.”
***
Phoebe stiffened her shoulders for a second, then relaxed. He was right. Somehow she’d gotten herself into a situation that she didn’t know how she was going to get out of. It had been so unlike her.
But what would Cole do if she told him the truth? Would he stop the car and order her out on the highway? Or would he still take her to Laramie? And even if he did, what would she do then? She had her phone, but didn’t know who to call. She couldn’t even go to the police. If she did, she’d probably end up in jail while the real criminal dodged the law.
There was only one decision to make.
Phoebe cleared her throat. “How much do you charge?”
“I have a dollar an hour special on Thursday afternoons.” A grin crossed his face.
Her stomach fluttered as she caught his expression. He was the most attractive man she’d ever met. “Is anything I tell you confidential?”
“Of course.”
If he could help her, then she’d definitely pay him more than one dollar per hour. Trust him.
“I need to get a Roman coin valued.”
He glanced over at her in surprise. “You don’t have an expert at your store who can do that?”
“No,” she replied shortly. Certainly not one she could trust.
“Is there an expert in Laramie?”
“Not that I know of.”
Cole raised an eyebrow at her. “If you’re my client, then I need to know the full story.”
Phoebe drew in a deep breath. “Okay.” She exhaled slowly, hoping she was doing the right thing by confiding in him. “Two days ago, Mrs. Miller came into the store ...
The bell tinkled as the door opened. Despite Victor, her new boss, threatening to install a modern, screeching version, he hadn’t done so yet.
“Hello, dear.” A gray-haired lady walked up to the counter.
“Hello, ma’am.” Phoebe smiled at the elderly lady. “How can I help you?”
“I don’t know if your store deals with old coins.” The woman fumbled in her purse, finally dragging out a small package wrapped in tissue. “But I was wondering how much this would be worth.”
Carefully opening the fragile parcel, Phoebe pushed back the last layer of tissue. An old coin pitted around the edges lay nestled in its wrapping. “May I?” she gestured at the tarnished coin.
“Of course, dear,” the lady replied.
Opening a drawer, Phoebe placed a soft cloth on the counter and applied a small amount of unscented hand sanitizer to her hands. Then, she carefully picked up the small coin by its edge. Her stomach fluttering with excitement, she examined the coin in silence for a couple of minutes. Opening a drawer for a magnifying glass, she wondered if her fledgling suspicions were correct. If they were …
“Do you know anything about it?” She looked at the elderly woman.
“My husband found it hidden in a box he bought from a second-hand shop in England. He was an archaeologist, you see.” Her eyes grew misty. “Dr. Charles Miller. He loved discovering ancient ruins.” She sighed. “When he brought home this tatty old box, he had a good look through it and got very excited when he found the coin tucked away behind a slit in the lining. He locked it away and said if I ever needed money, to sell it. That was before he passed. And now, well…” She shrugged sadly. “I’m afraid I need the money. My old car can‘t be fixed any longer.”
Phoebe gazed at the coin again. “I believe this is a Roman coin, Mrs. Miller.” Her hands trembled as she reluctantly rewrapped it in a fresh piece of acid free tissue paper.
“That’s what Charlie said, dear.” Mrs. Miller nodded.
“I’d need to do some further research before I could tell you exactly what it is and what it could be worth.” She frowned. Although this coin could potentially be worth many thousands of dollars if her instincts were correct, she wanted to make sure Mrs. Miller received an expert opinion and the best possible price if she decided to sell.
“Perhaps you might be better off taking this to a reputable coin dealer. I could give you the name of one here in Cheyenne.”
“There’s no need for that.” A smooth, charm-laden voice joined in the conversation.
Phoebe’s stomach knotted as her boss came out of the back and joined her at the counter. She suspected he used pomade on his gray-flecked black hair, while his polished wing-tip shoes and smart three-piece suit gave the appearance of an urbane professional. But he was rotten inside. Rotten to the core.
He flashed a shark-like smile at Mrs. Miller, the whiteness of his teeth contrasting with his tanned face. “How may I be of service, madam? I’m Victor Blackwood, owner of this fine establishment.”
Some of the dismay Phoebe felt at her boss’s presence must have shown on her face. “This young lady was helping me very nicely, Mr. Blackwood.”
“Good, good,” her boss replied, flashing an undecipherable look at Phoebe. “But I am somewhat knowledgeable about coins.” He held out his hand for the tissue-wrapped object.
Mrs. Miller hesitantly placed the object in his well-manicured hand. Victor unwrapped the coin, immediately schooling his expression. “Hmm, interesting. Yes, interesting,” he murmured.
Only Phoebe seemed to notice the avarice in his eyes as he gazed at the ancient relic.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to help you with this, Mrs. …?
“Miller,” the elderly lady replied.
“Mrs. Miller.” Victor smiled at the old lady, but Phoebe noticed his expression didn’t touch his eyes. “Why don’t you leave this coin with me, and I’ll have some news for you in a couple of days.”
Mrs. Miller shook her head. “Oh no, Mr. Blackwood, I couldn’t do that. I promised my husband I’d never let that coin out of my sight unless I sold it.”
“I understand.” Victor slowly rewrapped the coin and handed it back to Mrs. Miller. He opened
a desk drawer and pulled out an appointment book. “Could you come back on Thursday at 2.30pm? I’m sure I’ll have some good news for you by then.”
Snatching a fancy black and gold pen from the desk, he wrote the time down on a gilt-edged appointment card. “Now you take very good care of that coin, Mrs. Miller, and I’ll see you in two days’ time.”
The gray-haired lady glanced at Phoebe.
“I’ll be here too, Mrs. Miller.”
“I had a sinking feeling that somehow Victor would try to cheat her, but I didn’t know how,” she told Cole. “A month ago, a customer came into the store asking for a valuation on an antique salt cellar. Victor told him it was only worth twenty dollars, but just before Mr. Dawson retired, he’d valued a very similar piece at one hundred dollars.” She shook her head. “I know different dealers can have different opinions on what an antique is worth, but that seemed a big discrepancy. Victor ended up buying the salt cellar for twenty dollars, and later that day put it in the window priced at one-hundred-and-fifty. I know he has to make a profit, but …”
Cole whistled. “So what happened when Mrs. Miller came back today?” He cast a look at his fancy silver watch with buttons and dials all over its shining crystal face. Somehow, it seemed incongruous with the rest of his attire.
Phoebe snuck a peek at his face. He didn’t seem disgusted with her yet. But she hadn’t told him the rest of the story. Fiddling with the straps of her purse, she replied, “Victor was there. And Kurt, his … colleague.” Scary, hulking crony would be a better description. She wasn’t sure exactly what their relationship was, and didn’t want to know, although she suspected it was very shady.
“And?” Cole prompted when she fell silent.
“And …” She hesitated. “I overheard them talking this morning. They were going to switch the coin when Mrs. Miller wasn’t looking with a similar one that was worth a lot less.” She still couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Swapping a possible rare coin that could be worth thousands of dollars with a worthless one and cheating an old lady into the bargain! Until today, she hadn’t thought Victor would be capable of such a despicable act. She’d already felt uncomfortable with his low-ball offers of items that she thought were worth more, but this! And Mrs. Miller seemed such a nice old lady. It just wasn’t right.
