That Dating Thing

by Crowne, Mackenzie

  Rylee nodded, dropping the towel on the counter before pinning Coop with a cool stare. “You know where to send the police if you decide to file charges for my imaginary crimes.”

  “Rylee, wait,” Elliott pleaded when she skirted the counter. “We need to discuss this calmly.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  “Like hell there isn’t,” Coop snarled.

  He reached out, meaning to grab her arm. She jerked to the side and kept walking. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes resembled chips of black ice. “Then get a subpoena, councilor.”

  He would have followed when she headed out of the room, but Sil stepped forward, blocking his way.

  “Leave her alone,” she snapped. “You’ve done enough damage already.”

  “I’ve done enough damage,” he jeered.

  “I cannot believe I defended you, arguing with her when she predicted this would be your reaction if you ever discovered who her daddy is. I’m ashamed of myself for not listening to her. Sorry, Elliott,” she said, her furious green eyes never leaving Coop. “But your son is no longer welcome in my home.” She reached around Coop to the counter and slapped him in the chest with his file. He scrambled to keep the inside pages from fluttering to the floor.

  “Take this garbage with you when you leave.”

  ****

  Coop stared blindly at the open file on the coffee table. Beyond the stunning truth of Rylee’s parentage, Tim’s report contained enough financial discrepancies to catch the eye of a first-year accounting major. Combined with Rylee’s hidden involvement in the foundation, no reasonable person could blame him for his assumptions, but he never reacted with a knee-jerk response.

  He knew all along she had secrets. He should have been better prepared. His only excuse was that love had turned him into an ass.

  He’d been fine before he met her. He had a plan. A plan mapped out with careful precision, designed for maximum benefit. There would be a wife one day, an essential component to achieving his political goals. A reasonably attractive woman with whom he could find friendship and mutual respect was all he required. Love hadn’t been part of the picture.

  Rylee changed that, slipping beneath his usually reliable radar, destroying all he believed to be true with a simple smile, and he couldn’t afford to be wrong about her. Her connection to Ponzi Pete aside, once he’d calmed down, relying on logic instead of emotion, his heart insisted a simple explanation existed for the substantial amount of money unaccounted for in the foundation’s financial forms. Adam’s House had a track record, one that could be substantiated, of delivering what they promised.

  However, unless someone agreed to speak to him, he’d never get that explanation.

  Elliott wasn’t cooperating. Last night he’d called Coop an idiot right before he slammed the condo door in Cooper’s face. But the colonel’s belief in Rylee’s innocence lessened Coop’s concern that he’d let his emotions and her innocent sex persona blind him. The colonel may not have been the world’s best dad, but he wasn’t a fool.

  Brian’s reaction was even less cordial. When Rylee didn’t answer her door or her cell phone, Coop called her friend to try and track her down. Brian’s insulting diatribe proved he’d already spoken to Rylee. He blistered Coop’s ear with his suggestion of what Coop could do with his investigation of Rylee and the foundation. The short conversation could have garnered her friend a stint in county lock-up for threatening an officer of the court. Coop didn’t bother calling Sil. Rylee’s family had circled the wagons. He was on his own.

  His gaze zeroed in on the file. He’d been so angry last night, he’d merely glanced at the contents, skimming the front page with its condemning announcement of her birth name. Later, when he’d taken the time to really look, the photographs included in the report were enough to make him sick. They showed a little girl in pigtails, the potential for the beauty she would one day become staring back at him, her eyes filled with a terror no child should ever know. Her eyes held no terror yesterday, but the blank dismissal in them left him chilled.

  She’d disappeared, and he needed to find her so they could sit down and talk this through. He eyed the ticket to this evening’s fundraiser, sticking out from beneath the remote control on the center of the coffee table. With a cheeky grin, she’d presented the requested ticket one night last week—right before she climbed onto his lap and proceeded to make his eyes roll back in his head, exploring his body with her hands and mouth. The memory was enough to make him break out in a sweat—in fear of never knowing her touch again.

  He plucked the ticket from beneath the remote. Tonight’s event hadn’t been canceled—further evidence of her innocence. If she were up to no good, she was too smart to continue as though nothing were wrong, especially now that the D.A.’s office was on her scent. No, like the idiot his father had called him, he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, and he had his work cut out for him if he was going to repair the damage he’d done.

  She would be in attendance tonight, no doubt. Considering how hard she worked at avoiding exposure, she’d be no more interested in a public confrontation than he. Handled correctly, the crowd could be used to his advantage, forcing her to agree to slip away with him so they could speak in private.

  The jangle of his cell phone jolted him. Unclipping the phone from the case at his waist, he checked the name.

  “Dad?”

  “Brian tells me you’re still looking for Rylee,” Elliott said without greeting. “Why can’t you just leave her be? She can’t help who her father is.”

  “No, she can’t, but I deserve some answers, don’t you think?”

  “For an intelligent man, you can be a real dunce sometimes, Coop.”

  “She’s been lying to me, Dad. You’ve all been lying by omission since day one.”

  “That’s true.” Elliott sighed. “We were trying to avoid this very situation.”

  “So you just let her string me along, oblivious to the facts?”

  “She’s not up to anything, Coop. Other than making the lives of returning vets easier. The foundation is exactly what it claims to be.”

  “Then why all the secrecy?”

  “That should be obvious.” Simmering anger reverberated in Elliott’s clipped tone. “You’ve gotten to know Rylee over the last couple of weeks and yet your first reaction to learning her true identity was to accuse her of being a thief. What do you suppose the general public, and more importantly, the foundation’s contributors would think if they discovered she is Ponzi Pete’s daughter?”

  His father had a point, but damn it, Coop had been making plans for the future, while she’d been having a fling with a man she didn’t trust enough to give her real name.

  “Can you blame me for being pissed? Honest people don’t create aliases, and then talk people into giving them millions of dollars.” His gaze fell on the file. “I’ve seen the figures. The foundation is going through cash like a drunken sailor on leave.”

  “It takes a lot of money to rehab warehouses to make them livable,” Elliott argued.

  “Except for the most recent one, the buildings were donated. Even factoring in the price of the Cain warehouse, the rehabs wouldn’t account for almost thirty million dollars in expenditures.”

  “No, they wouldn’t,” Elliott hedged.

  “So, where is the money going, if not to an offshore account?”

  Elliott didn’t answer immediately. When he did, he sounded tired.

  “You once asked me how I could afford to buy into River View. The truth is I couldn’t, not without scraping together every last penny I have.”

  “You’re broke?” Coop’s stomach plummeted. Was it all a fraud, after all?

  “No, I’m not broke and that’s my point. The foundation, and by that I mean Rylee, subsidized a large chunk of the mortgage, allowing me to buy in at a fraction of the cost. And I’m not the only vet who’s gotten that deal.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying she’s selling t
he units below market value?” Coop asked, stunned.

  “I’m saying she’s charging her vets what they can afford, and then picking up the rest of the tab.”

  Coop’s head dropped forward and he stared at the floor. The memory of her smile that day at the VA sliced at him like a serrated knife. He’d seen her affection for the aged and broken warriors, but he hadn’t really understood the depth of her commitment to them. Now, he did.

  “By the way,” Elliott continued, “you know that anonymous, thirty million dollar start-up donation the foundation received?”

  “Rylee?” Coop breathed and swallowed back bile.

  “Right the first time.”

  “Jesus.” Coop shoved his shaking fingers through his hair. “Why would she do something like that?”

  “Sil says she donated the money because she didn’t want her father’s victims to think she was living off their stolen cash. I say she did it because that’s who she is.”

  Coop’s vicious curse echoed in the quiet apartment. “I screwed up big time.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Elliott replied.

  Coop groaned, staring blindly at his empty living room. “What does that mean?”

  “Did she ever tell you about her broken engagement?”

  “She mentioned a fiancé, said he was a dick.”

  Elliott chuckled. “That sounds like her.”

  “What happened?”

  “She went away to college, met a young man in med school and fell in love. He asked her to marry him and she said yes. Then she told him about Peter Morris. Two days later, he demanded his ring back and the college administrators suggested she find somewhere else to study. The med student’s mother is an important alumnus. Rylee earned her business degree at the community college five miles from Sil’s home.”

  Coop’s eyes slid shut. “She’s right. He was a dick.”

  “Sounds like a case of the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Coop challenged neither the insinuation nor the sarcastic tone. He deserved both. “She must hate me.” The possibility settled in his stomach like a brick.

  “I doubt it. She should,” Elliott added quickly, “but from what Sil says, your reaction is pretty much what she’s come to expect when people learn who her father is.”

  “Speaking of Sil.”

  Elliott’s tone turned downright chilling. “What about her?”

  Coop hesitated. As amazing as it seemed, he’d come to believe his father’s claims about finding the right woman. Since discovering his love for Rylee, Coop now understood the distinction Elliott had been making that day he’d called to tell Coop he’d married. His father had never been as happy or relaxed as he’d been this past month, until Coop’s treatment of Rylee shoved a wedge between wife and son. Torn between the two of them, Elliott’s discomfort was palpable. Coop hurt more than just Rylee with his accusations and the thought shamed him.

  “Tell her I’m sorry.”

  The silence stretched out, ending on Elliott’s sigh. “She loves Rylee like a daughter, Coop. I’m not sure your apology will do any good.”

  “Tell her anyway.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Coop slapped the fundraiser ticket against his knee. “I’m going to track Rylee down and talk to her. Try to make this right.”

  “Good luck, son. You’ll need it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sil worked the crowd at the center of Roosevelt Park. She had promoted tonight’s event as a cookout with a sophisticated flair and, from what Rylee could see, she had pulled it off. From the number of guests still milling about the silent auction tables, anxiously submitting last minute bids, the night promised to be a success.

  The speeches were over, the slide show presentation detailing the foundation’s mission and its accomplishments-to-date completed, and New York’s elite were proving they enjoyed a good party. Sparkling cocktail dresses mixed with flip-flops and Bermuda shorts on the open-air dance floor, where wealthy couples did the bump and grind or swayed in each other’s arms to the beat of classic rock.

  The city’s Fourth of July fireworks display would start within the quarter hour and end the night’s festivities. With both dogs along, Rylee wanted to minimize the traffic passing by their spot when the guests began strolling toward the river’s edge to watch the show. She chose a blanket from among those spread along the shore, settling down several feet from the water, and tightened her grip on Pippin’s collar to keep him from wading in.

  “Don’t look now.” Brian wandered over to join them. “The hot lawyer is here and he’s headed this way.”

  He dropped to the blanket and sprawled on his side in front of her. Rylee didn’t bother turning around to confirm his claim. After yesterday’s vicious accusations, she’d prayed Coop wouldn’t make an appearance tonight, but hadn’t held out a lot of hope. He’d been trying to reach her and knew she would be here tonight. He obviously believed they still had reason to speak to each other. She didn’t.

  She kept her focus on the lights of the city across the water, her fingers caressing Pippin’s velvety ear where he lay beside her. Belle rested her head on Rylee’s thigh.

  “Want me to punch him in the nose for you?” Brian asked.

  “And deny me the pleasure? No thanks.”

  “Kill joy,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

  She smiled.

  The clearing of his throat warned her Coop had arrived.

  “Rylee,” he said behind her. She tightened her arm around Pippin’s neck when he started to rise.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked Brian. “I thought gnats didn’t come out at night in the northeast.”

  Brian aimed a tight grin in Coop’s direction.

  Coop stepped around the blanket. “We need to talk, Rylee.”

  She followed the arching dive of a seafowl, skimming the surface of the river in search of dinner. “Do you have your subpoena?”

  “I’m not getting a subpoena, damn it.”

  “Then I don’t see what we have to talk about.”

  Pippin whined at her side and she looked down. His confused brown eyes met hers.

  I thought we liked him.

  That was before.

  “We have plenty to talk about,” Coop insisted. “Brian, would you mind keeping the dogs while Rylee and I go somewhere a little more private?”

  “The dogs and I are fine right here, but if crowds bother you, we’ll understand why you have to leave.”

  “I’m not the one with reason to avoid nosy ears.” He lowered his voice. “Ms. Morris.”

  She jerked her head up to look up at him for the first time. Casually dressed in khaki slacks and a dark blue polo that matched his eyes, the masculine beauty he wore so easily caused a constriction in her chest. The heat of her glare should have had him bursting into flames.

  “He has a point, Rylee.”

  She turned on Brian, ready to blast him. He pointed at the crowd behind her and she glanced around to find he was right. With the fireworks about to start, people were seating themselves at the water’s edge. More than one of the event’s elite guests eyed them with undisguised interest.

  “Maybe the two of you should take off,” Brian suggested.

  She spun on him. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Always yours,” he replied quietly.

  The understanding in his eyes doused her anger, but not her bitterness. “Then tell him to go. I have nothing to say.”

  “Then I’ll do the talking,” Coop interjected. “Starting with an apology.”

  “Apology accepted. Now, go away.”

  “After I apologize,” he went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “I think I deserve some answers. Do you really want to have this conversation here?”

  “Cooper!”

  All three of them turned at the feminine greeting.

  “Wow,” Brian drawled and sat up. “Friend of yours?” he asked Coop.

  Rylee looked over her sh
oulder and swallowed. A slinky blonde in a painted-on dress of red, white, and blue sequins maneuvered through the maze of blankets in three-inch heels.

  “Shit,” Coop muttered on a low burst of breath.

  If he was after privacy, he failed. The six-foot blonde, decked out in sparkling patriotism, worked the lawn of Roosevelt Park like a Manhattan runway during fashion week. Sophisticated style and rolling hips, she captured the interest of the gathering crowd as she zeroed in on Coop.

  Rylee stared at the bedazzled Gucci dreams on the woman’s feet and clamped down on the green-eyed monster before it could erupt.

  “Ashley. I didn’t realize you were here.” When the blonde reached his side and lifted her face in expectation of a greeting kiss, Coop brushed his lips over her cheek.

  “I’m here with Giovanni.” She preened for the crowd, waving an elegant hand in the general direction of the main tent. “He contributed a gorgeous off-the-shoulder gown to the silent auction.” She skimmed her dramatically slanted blue eyes over Rylee before they landed on Brian. Her predatory smile reminded Rylee of the big cats in the panther habitat at the zoo. “Who are your friends?”

  “Rylee Pierce, Brian Hurley,” Coop introduced curtly, “this is Ashley Connor.”

  Brian grinned, all charm and appreciation. “The swim suit edition, right? I knew I’d seen your, ah,” he cleared his throat, “face before.”

  Rylee snorted. Brian ignored her. Ashley didn’t. She sent Rylee a questioning gaze. Rylee bared her teeth in an imitation of a smile. “Hi.”

  “A pleasure,” Ashley crooned, but clearly, the introductions held no interest for her. She turned to Coop, her smile bright. “Giovanni was just asking where you were, darling. Why don’t we get a glass of wine and go find him before the fireworks begin?” She puckered her lips in a pretty pout and glanced over her shoulder. “You don’t mind if I steal Cooper away for a few minutes, do you?”

  “I’m in the middle of something, Ash,” Coop answered.

  Ash? The green-eyed-monster lunged at the bars of its cage. Rylee ground her teeth. Coop’s pet names for tall, slinky blondes were not her concern. The bastard.