Can't Stop the Feeling

by Maria Geraci

  “Yep. They most certainly are a couple.”

  “You missed that boat, all right.”

  “Mom, is there anything else you want to talk about?”

  “No, I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”

  “I’m doing great.”

  Her mother made a huffing sound of disbelief under her breath. “So, if anything comes up with this Ben, you’ll let me know.”

  “I promise. You’ll be the first. But don’t hold your breath.”

  “Ha! I’d be in my grave if I did that.”

  “Love you, Mom.”

  “Love you too, honey,” her mother said good-naturedly.

  Marsha Pantini’s meddling could be a bit intrusive sometimes, but up till now, Jenna hadn’t really minded. Her mother had grown up in an age when being thirty-something and single was akin to being a leper. Jenna knew her mom was proud of her professional accomplishments (she’d heard her bragging to her friends about her smart, accomplished daughter often enough) but ever since Jenna had moved here to Whispering Bay, her mom had upped the pressure on her to find a man.

  She turned the corner to go down the street where she’d circle around to start the run back home, when she spotted…

  No.

  Had she turned down the wrong street?

  Damn it. She had. Tortoise Way was two blocks farther than her normal route. She must have gotten distracted by Mom’s phone call. Saint Mother of Horrible Coincidences.

  Her best friend Kate’s voice popped into her head. There are no such things as coincidences!

  Ben waved to her from the front lawn of the house he was renting. What was he doing? Just standing there in the grass? It was like he’d been waiting there all this time, ready to ambush her whenever she came by.

  Pretend you don’t see him!

  But it was too late. They’d already made eye contact, so no, she couldn’t do that. At the very least, she needed to acknowledge him, so she waved and kept on running.

  “Jenna!” Ben called out loud enough to hear over the music pumping through her smartphone.

  There was no choice. She had to stop now.

  Plucking out her earbuds, she tried to catch her breath as she waited for him to walk down to the end of the lawn.

  He’d changed out of his suit and into shorts and a T-shirt that emphasized his muscular arms and flat stomach. The past thirteen years had been kind to Ben Harrison. He had to be, what? Thirty-six? Other than a few threads of silver along his temple, he still looked like the same hottie from their college days.

  “Did you come by to check out where I was staying?”

  She snorted. “Of course not. It just so happens that I jog this way every day.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  He grinned. “Lucky me.”

  Was he flirting with her? She’d pretend she hadn’t heard that and go with something safe. And bland. “So how do you like the house?”

  “It’s got a great view of the gulf. Want to take a look inside?”

  “No thanks.” Although if the truth be told, yes, she’d very much like to see the inside of that house. Strictly from curiosity. It was a multi-million-dollar house on a cul-de-sac surrounded by other multi-million-dollar houses, most of which were rented out on a regular basis. It would be fun to see how the rich and famous lived. Speaking of which, she wondered if Tiffany was here with him.

  He shoved his hands inside his shorts pockets. “Small world, huh? Running into each other like this.”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to get that drink?”

  “That depends. Will your girlfriend be joining us?” Rats. That sounded like she was jealous.

  “What makes you think I have a girlfriend?” he asked, sounding amused.

  “Don’t you? Not that it matters to me. Nope. Not in the least.”

  “No girlfriend. No wife. And no reason we shouldn’t have that drink. What do you say?”

  She should refuse him again. There wasn’t anything they had to say to one another. Except… Pilar had a point. Maybe she could find out why he seemed so confident about breaking old Earl’s will. Plus there was that glint in his eyes. Like he was daring her to say yes. One thing she’d never been was a coward.

  “I guess one drink couldn’t hurt. But I’m really not free until Friday.”

  “Friday works for me.” He smiled, and her traitorous insides did a somersault. “Jenna—”

  Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a child’s scream. “No! I don’t wanna!” A little girl with dark hair, four or five years old maybe, ran from the house and hurled herself against Ben.

  “Whoa! Hold on, sport.” He crouched down to put himself on eye level with the little girl. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “Greta says I have to go to bed now but I don’t wanna!”

  A woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties rushed out the door. She was striking, with short blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and long tan legs that would make a model weep. It wasn’t Tiffany, but close enough. “I’m so sorry, Ben.” She tried to take the little girl’s hand, but the child refused. “Rachel,” Tiffany 2.0 said sternly, “we’ve had this discussion before. Bedtime is strictly eight p.m.”

  “No worries,” Ben said. “I’ll put her to bed.”

  “If you say so.” The woman, obviously unhappy with the child’s behavior, gave Jenna a frosty nod before going back into the house. Who was she? Obviously not the child’s mother because the little girl had called the woman by her first name. Maybe a nanny?

  Ben stood, and the little girl took his hand. “Rachel, you have to listen to Greta. She’s here to help take care of you.”

  The little girl didn’t say anything. Instead she turned to look up at Jenna with a pair of chocolate-colored eyes identical to… “Who are you?” Rachel asked.

  Jenna felt as if she’d been smacked upside the head. Those eyes!

  Ben had a daughter.

  Who was Rachel’s mother?

  Was Ben divorced? Widowed? Never married?

  And how was Tiffany McAdams involved in all this? He claimed not to have a girlfriend, but Pilar was right. Those Internet pictures of the two of them showed a couple who cared deeply about one another.

  Too many questions flew through her head, none of which were fit to ask in front of the child, so she mentally pulled herself together and smiled at the little girl. “I’m Jenna. And you’re Rachel?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Nice to meet you, Rachel. I’m…an old friend of your father’s.”

  Rachel’s head shot up to meet Ben’s gaze. “She is?” she asked eagerly.

  There was a moment’s awkward hesitation before Ben said, “Not exactly, honey.” His face remained impassive, but there was something in his tone that made Jenna stiffen. What would he call her then? She’d only used the term “friend” because “ex-lover” wouldn’t have been appropriate.

  Jenna began jogging in place. “I better get back to my run.”

  “We’re still on for that drink, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Friday at The Harbor House? Around six.”

  “Fine by me.” She smiled and waved goodbye to Rachel, because she was a little girl and adorable, and let’s face it, the kid couldn’t help that her father was a hound dog. Then she took off running down the road, careful not to look back. Because Jenna had the horrible sensation that Ben was still watching her.

  Chapter Five

  Nora and Vince Palermo lived in a three-story mansion in Mexico Beach, a small town about an hour south of Whispering Bay. It was the first time Ben had ever made a house call, but these were big clients. If he was successful (which wasn’t really in question, because he was always successful) his attorney’s fees would easily be in the high six-figure range.

  Nora ushered him into an over-decorated living room that looked like it belonged more in a Vegas hotel lobby than a beach house in north Florida. She was in her sixties
and had all the hallmarks of a wealthy woman her age—perfectly styled salon hair, designer outfit and a smile that didn’t move a muscle on a face that had gone more than a couple of rounds with a plastic surgeon.

  “Thank you for coming out here today.”

  “Not a problem,” Ben said.

  “I’ll say it shouldn’t be a problem. Not with the kind of money you stand to gain if you win this case for us.” Vince was around the same age as his wife but not as well kept. His bloodshot eyes hinted at a man who liked his liquor. Ben should know. Growing up, he’d been around enough of his mother’s loser boyfriends to be able to spot a drunk a mile away.

  Ben shook both their hands. “You mean, when I win this case.”

  Vince slapped him on the back. “Now that’s the kind of confidence I like to hear!” His puffy face split into a leer. “Of course, Nora and I can’t offer the kind of bennies you got working for that Playboy Bunny.”

  “Vince!” Nora had the decency to look embarrassed by her husband’s vulgarity.

  “What? I’m not saying anything the whole world doesn’t already know.”

  Ben didn’t have to like his clients to represent them, but he didn’t have to take this kind of crap from any asshole. No matter how much money that asshole’s case might bring in.

  He hardened his voice. “If we’re going to work together then we need to establish some boundaries. For the record, Miss McAdams and I are friends. At one time she was my client and at no time while I was working on her case did the two of us have anything more than a professional relationship. If I’m going to be your lawyer I’ll work as hard for you as I did for her, but my personal life is none of your damn business.” Since that last part had been meant exclusively for Vince, he turned to Nora and said, “Pardon my language, ma’am.”

  Nora pressed her lips together and nodded. Vince looked a little shaken but he quickly composed himself. “Sorry. Didn’t mean anything by it,” he muttered.

  “Then we understand one another?”

  “Yeah. Sure. We understand each other.”

  “Good, because I’m ready to get to work if you are.”

  Nora and Vince sat in separate chairs facing a long couch. The fact that they chose not to sit together wasn’t lost on Ben. He’d hate to be the attorney representing either of them when (because it was only a question of time) these two decided to get a divorce.

  He took a seat on the couch, opened his briefcase, then handed them each a sheet of paper. “This is a write-up of the notes I took during our last phone conversation. Can you go over this and make sure everything is accurate?”

  Nora took her time reading the notes, but Vince quickly scanned the page and handed it back to him. “Yep. That’s all correct.”

  Ben looked at Nora. “Do you agree?”

  She nodded, but there was something in her eyes that made him uneasy. “I need to speak to Murdock Cole as soon as possible,” Ben said. “I assume you have no problem with that?” Cole had been Earl Handy’s personal attorney and a prime witness in their case.

  “The sooner you speak to him, the better,” Vince said.

  Ben glanced down at his notes. “And he’s going to tell me that on February 20th of last year, Earl called him and told him that he’d changed his mind about leaving the property in question to the city?”

  “You’re damn right. Earl wanted to give that land to his only living flesh and blood.” Vince smiled at Nora, who smiled back weakly. “But when Cole went to see Earl the next day, he’d changed his mind.”

  Ben rifled through some more documents. “And Dr. Morrison, Earl’s personal physician, will go on record that Earl was lucid at the time of this phone call?”

  Nora spoke up. “My daddy suffered from dementia, but it was only in the last six months that he was totally unresponsive. Before that…” her voice quivered, “he had moments of perfect clarity.”

  “Yes, but Dr. Morrison can’t be sure as to Earl’s exact condition on this particular day, can he?”

  “That’s your job to figure all that out,” Vince said impatiently. “Just talk to Earl’s nurse. She’ll tell you how it was.”

  “I understand, but I’m trying to get all my facts straight before I file my first motion.”

  Vince leaned forward eagerly. “When do you think that will be?”

  “I need to talk to Doug Wentworth and make sure there aren’t any holes in his statement.”

  Vince and Nora looked at one another. “He’s just been moved to the Walton County jail,” Vince said.

  “So I’ve heard. I’ve made arrangements to visit him tomorrow.”

  “Just because the guy’s a jailbird doesn’t mean his statement is going to get thrown out, does it?” Vince asked.

  “Not at all. But I need to make sure he’s telling the truth.”

  “Oh, he’s telling the truth, because like we said, Earl wanted Nora to have that land.”

  Ben looked at Vince a little longer than necessary. The older man held his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away.

  “I hope you understand, this isn’t about the money,” Nora said. She smiled ruefully, but Ben noted the nervousness behind it.

  Lady, it’s always about the money. “May I ask what you plan to do with the land?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re going to sell it,” Vince said. “You got any problems with that?”

  “Not at all.” He stood. “I’ll be in touch in the next couple of days.”

  “That’s it?” Nora looked relieved that the appointment was over.

  “That’s it,” Ben said, giving her a professional smile meant to reassure her. He’d dealt with skittish clients before, but she seemed edgier than most. He’d love a chance to speak to Nora alone, without her boorish husband glued to her side, but he doubted Vince would allow it. He said his goodbyes and found his own way out the door.

  His cell phone rang. It was his personal office line. “Yeah?”

  “Yes, sir, it’s me, Gavin.” As if Ben wasn’t already aware of who’d called. He went on to fill Ben in on a problem at the bank and then explained how he’d already taken care of it.

  “If it’s all under control, then why are you wasting my time with this?”

  “Um, I just wanted to make sure you were aware of everything that goes on in the business.”

  “Then you thought wrong. I only want to know when something’s not right. Speaking of which, I have a situation up here with the Earl Handy case that I need one of the investigators on ASAP.”

  “Yes! Right away, sir! Um…since this is Martinez and Martinez business, should I cc Joan on this?”

  “Sure. What I need is an info dump on a guy named Doug Wentworth. He was the city manager here in Whispering Bay until this past June. Up until a couple of days ago, he was in the Santa Rosa County jail on a burglary charge but he’s been moved closer here to the Walton County facility.”

  “Roger that, sir. I’ll have Perkins start on it right away.”

  Perkins wasn’t the firm’s lead investigator but he was an ex-cop and the perfect person for this particular job. Good to know Gavin was getting the hang of things. Not that Ben was going to tell him that. No use in the kid getting a big head simply because he’d gotten something right.

  “Is there anything in particular you want to know about this Doug Wentworth person, sir?”

  “I want to know everything. Including who’s been visiting him in jail.”

  Because the last thing Ben needed was a client who was lying to him.

  * * *

  Jenna laid down the novel she’d been trying to read and turned off the lights. It was still early, only nine p.m., but she had a big day tomorrow.

  Why had she agreed to have a drink with Ben? It must have been the endorphin high from running. Her mother was right. Running couldn’t be good for her. Besides scrambling her ovaries, it was also juggling around her brain cells.

  Whatever the reason that had made her say yes, she
had no choice now. She could call and cancel, except she hadn’t thought to get his number. He hadn’t asked for hers either, which was pretty sneaky of him. What kind of guy invited you for a drink but didn’t make sure you had his number?

  A guy who didn’t want you to cancel, that’s who.

  Why had he pushed for this little meeting? It wasn’t like they were real friends so his wanting to “catch up” seemed strange.

  Her cell phone vibrated. She picked it up to glance at the screen. Oh boy. Just the person she most wanted to talk to. And most wanted to avoid as well.

  Thirteen years ago, some mischievous freshman housing elves at the University of Miami must have thought it would be fun to pair up Katharine Elizabeth Giles-Armitage, better known as Kate, a fourth-generation trust fund baby, with the pragmatic middle-class girl from the Tampa suburbs. But as unlikely as the pairing might have seemed on paper, in real life, it totally worked.

  Jenna had been the first to arrive at the dorm. Her parents quickly helped her put away her things—a small closet composed of mostly shorts and T-shirts, sneakers, sandals, some work-out clothes and a few dresses (to wear to Mass, her mother had said with a raised eyebrow). Marsha Pantini’s theory being that just because Jenna was away at college didn’t mean she should turn into a heathen.

  Jenna had just finished making her bed with the new sheets and comforter they’d bought at the local Target store when Kate had whirled into the room. Medium height with brown hair and green eyes that looked as if she was always smiling, Kate was like something out of a south Florida prep school catalog with her pink and green Lily Pulitzer sundress and pearl earrings.

  “Hello! I’m Katherine, but like I said in our emails, you can call me Kate.” She hugged Jenna, then dazzled Mom and Dad with a smile that could have melted the polar ice caps. “I have to ask you,” she said, reaching out to touch one of Jenna’s crazy curls, “if this gorgeous hair of yours is for real. The second I saw your picture on Myspace I was like, oh my God, I’m rooming with Nicole Kidman’s gorgeous younger twin!” From anyone else, it would have seemed like disingenuous flattery, but there was something instantly likable about Kate, despite the fact that she was the gorgeous one.