by Meryl Sawyer
“Sure. I’ll get there before you will. I have an idea how we can get a DNA done on Renata, but it’ll be expensive.”
“I’m sure we can come up with the money. Trent and Doyle are ready to pay Renata a chunk of money to get rid of her.”
“I doubt that’s going to work. If Caleb and Renata think she might inherit money from your mother, why would they settle for less?”
“You’re probably right.” They had reached Trent’s Beamer and she climbed in, asking, “What about the DNA? I thought you said there was no way around the waiting list.”
“Don’t mention this to anyone yet. I’m looking into sending the sample overseas to Germany where there’s a first-rate lab without the waiting list problem. It’s expensive, but if I can arrange it, we could get results in about a week.”
Chapter 9
Shane watched Taylor across the dining room table as she talked with Renata. The stripper was on her best behavior and Caleb had dropped the phony British accent, but Shane wasn’t fooled. He figured the pair had sized up the mansion and Vanessa’s expensive jewelry. It was worth their while to be charming.
Were Caleb and Renata lovers? No, he didn’t think so. He’d observed them closely while they’d had cocktails around the pool. He didn’t pick up any chemistry between them.
Unless they were incredible actors, which he doubted, they weren’t lovers.
Had Caleb Bassett actually raised this woman? He wouldn’t bet the ranch on it.
“Renata, I think you should move here,” Vanessa said unexpectedly. “Then we could get to know each other better.”
Trent broke the astonished silence, saying, “I’m sure Renata has her own life in New Orleans and her work.”
Her work? Get real.
They hadn’t discussed “her work” since Shane had arrived. Caleb or Renata could have mentioned it earlier, but Vanessa seemed to be conveniently ignoring the subject. He suspected she often overlooked things she found unpleasant.
“I don’t think I’d be interested in moving here, but I could stay a while and visit,” Renata said with a smile.
“Wonderful!” Vanessa clapped her hands.
Are we having fun yet? Taylor was trying to smile and appear pleased, but Trent didn’t bother.
“You’ll stay, too, won’t you?” Vanessa asked Caleb.
“If my little girl wants to visit, I’ll stay with her.”
Was he a good father, or what?
Shane waited while the maid served dessert. Mango gelato in a crystal brandy snifter. Proof positive the rich were different.
Before this group got any cozier, it was time to mention the DNA. It would be awkward for Taylor to bring it up. He needed to do it.
“You know,” he said to Renata, “we could settle the question of whether or not you are Vanessa’s daughter with a DNA sample.”
“That’s not necessary,” cried Vanessa. “I know she’s my daughter. I can feel it.”
Vanessa’s attitude took Shane by surprise. He’d expected Caleb or Renata to object because they had a lot to lose if the DNA came back negative, but he’d assumed Vanessa would want independent confirmation.
Go figure.
“Mother, this is a good idea,” Taylor said.
“Yes, it would put all our minds to rest,” Trent added.
“It would be a waste of time and money.” Vanessa’s tone was even firmer than before, and Shane could see why she’d made enemies over the years. Vanessa was difficult to deal with when she wanted her way.
“We talked about it this afternoon when we arrived,” Caleb told them. “Renata has to be Vanessa’s daughter. She’s the right age. I adopted her in a town less than ten miles from where Vanessa gave birth.”
Vanessa reached over and patted Renata’s hand lightly. “I don’t have much time left on this earth. I want to spend it getting to know my daughter better.”
“We’ll have fun,” Renata said.
Define fun. Shane bet it would involve spending Vanessa’s money.
Taylor had to admit she was jealous.
Her mother was obsessed with Renata. It didn’t matter that she was a stripper with crude manners and no education. Her mother sincerely believed Renata was her daughter.
She adored her.
What little time she had left to live was going to be spent with Renata, forgetting the daughter who had loved her for a lifetime.
Unbelievable.
She lounged back on her sofa and tried to concentrate on the late night news, but in her mind’s eye she saw the way her mother had been earlier in the evening. She’d kept touching Renata’s hand or putting her arm around her.
Taylor had longed to run out of the room, but pride and the iron will that had helped her in business kept her at the table. She tried to understand what it would have been like to give up a baby.
Her mother had been worried all these years about her child. Naturally, she needed to make up for lost time. Any mother would react the same way.
“Don’t take it personally,” Taylor said out loud.
Her words did nothing to banish a deep, yearning ache to turn back the hands of time and have her mother to herself again.
A knock on the door startled her, and she jumped to her feet. Crime wasn’t a problem in SoBe, but you never knew. She peered through the peephole and saw Shane standing there with Auggie. He’d left her mother’s house before she did, and she hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to him.
She swung open the door and warm air surged into her air-conditioned apartment. Lively music drifted on the breeze, coming from one of the nearby clubs. Even though Taylor was about to go to bed, SoBe was just waking up.
“I saw your light. I’m taking Auggie for a walk. Do you want to come with us?”
Taylor bent over and stroked Auggie’s sleek, dark head. “Yes. We should talk.”
They walked the short block to Ocean Avenue, speculating on why Renata and Caleb arrived so early without letting anyone know their change in plans.
“I think they knew we’d try to get rid of them,” Taylor said. “They wanted to make sure they met my mother.”
“You may be right,” Shane said. “It doesn’t matter now. They’re here to stay. We have to decide how to deal with them.”
“If only Mother would allow us to run a DNA test. I wouldn’t feel as bad if Renata really is the missing baby.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. Can you get into your mother’s home while they’re out somewhere?”
“Sure. I grew up in that house. I have a key. I’ll just have to make up a story for Pablo and Maria, the Cuban couple who work for mother.”
“Okay, get in and find Renata’s hairbrush. Take a few hairs with follicles, if possible. Then get some of your mother’s for comparison.”
They paused to let Auggie sniff a poodle passing with an elderly woman. Taylor knew how hard Shane was trying to socialize Auggie.
“Why hairs with follicles?” she asked.
“The follicle is easier to test. Hair products, especially dye and bleach, break down the hair. It can be used but it’s more difficult.”
“I feel strange sneaking around behind my mother’s back, but …” She looked into Shane’s eyes, not certain how to put this. “Something about those two isn’t right. That’s my gut feeling. I don’t believe she’s my half sister.”
“I can’t find any records to prove anything. The DNA will be conclusive.”
They stopped and sat on a bench at Lummus Park. Auggie settled himself at Shane’s feet. The long, narrow park flanking the shore was filled with sun worshipers by day, most of them wearing little more than their tans. At night, the park was usually deserted, the chic set having migrated to one of the trendy SoBe clubs.
“What’s with the lifeguard stations?” Shane asked.
“Fun looking, aren’t they? Hurricane Andrew destroyed all the old lifeguard shacks. Some politician decided the new ones should be conversation pieces. Right over there is the spaceship designed by
Kenny Scharf. He’s a pop artist. Doyle has a couple of his works.”
Taylor was a little amazed that she could sit here so comfortably with Shane and discuss something as mundane as the unusual lifeguard stations. She’d been on edge when she’d been around him before, but since they’d returned from New Orleans, she’d become more comfortable with him.
And less comfortable with her brother.
Trent was like a different person now. She could blame Raoul, but in all fairness, each person was responsible for himself. Maybe Trent had gone so many years pretending to be straight that she’d never really known him.
“I understand you’re a trivia buff,” Shane said.
“Yes. I don’t know why but odd bits of information fascinate me. I keep track of them on my computer. If we sell To The Maxx, I’m going to start a computer game company.”
She couldn’t help smiling inwardly. “Today I came across an interesting fact. A turtle’s sex is determined by the temperature of the sand when the eggs hatch.”
“Be still my heart.”
“Oh, stop.” She punched him lightly on the arm. “I thought it was interesting.”
“Some people are easily amused.”
“Okay, so what amuses you?”
“You do.”
His eyes gazed unwaveringly into hers. Something intangible and frighteningly elusive passed through her. She wasn’t attracted to Shane, was she?
No, of course not. Seconds fractured and it seemed as if a full minute passed before she could speak.
“Let’s stick to business,” she said a little more sharply than she intended. “Has your company had any luck with the computer security breach at To The Maxx?”
“Vince worked on it while we were in New Orleans. I started checking today. I wish I could tell you exactly what the problem is. We changed the security codes, but the problem hasn’t gone away.”
Taylor shook her head, angry with herself for the oversight. “We should have systematically been changing those codes all along, the way other companies do.”
“Don’t blame yourself. A cosmetics firm shouldn’t expect to have these problems.”
“Any idea who it might be?”
Shane hesitated for just a moment before replying. “We’re not sure, but Vince thinks your mother may have made some … enemies over the years.”
As much as Taylor loved her mother, she had to admit the woman could be ruthless at times. “I’m sure Aunt Sophie, Doyle’s ex-wife, ranks right at the top of the list. She’d love to hurt Mom and Doyle.”
“She’s one possibility,” Shane agreed. “Raoul is another. Did you realize your mother tried to buy him off to get him out of Trent’s life?”
“Oh, tell me she didn’t.”
Actually, Taylor wasn’t all that surprised. Her mother acted as if she didn’t mind Trent’s homosexuality, but she had concealed it from her friends for as long as possible.
“I don’t think Raoul would ruin the business. I’m sure he’s counting on money from the sale to start his own company.”
“You never know. He spent some time in a psychiatric hospital,” Shane told her. “He might not be all that stable. We’re checking into it.”
“Really? I’m surprised. Raoul seems very self-absorbed but not unbalanced.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Often the person you think you know turns out to be someone else entirely.”
There was an odd note in Shane’s voice. Taylor wondered if he was trying to tell her something. Perhaps it was his oblique way of referring to Trent’s sudden lifestyle change.
“Have you looked at the company records for anyone we terminated?” she asked to get away from a personal discussion. “It hasn’t happened very often, but I can think of one man who worked in accounts receivable. My father fired him just before he died. His name was Jim Wilson. Several companies called for references, but we couldn’t recommend him.”
“I’ll look into it.” Shane stood up and Auggie leaped to his feet. “We better start back. It’s getting late for those of us not on the club circuit.”
They walked in silence along Ocean Boulevard. Throngs of people spilled out of the clubs and cafés. Music throbbed in the air and along with it came a certain sexiness. SoBe was for the young and hip and scantily dressed.
She couldn’t help noticing the way the women they passed gazed at Shane. He wasn’t classically good-looking, but she had to concede he was attractive in a masculine way. His angular face was rugged, the dominant feature being blue eyes that bored into you.
She mentally gave herself a hard kick. Why was she thinking about Shane? Why wasn’t she thinking about Paul Ashton, the love of her life? A warning voice whispered in her head.
Memories fade.
Like a watercolor image, Paul’s blurred face appeared on the screen in her mind. Then faded. As soon as she got home, she was going to look at her pictures of him.
“There’s one other person we’re investigating,” Shane said, breaking into her thoughts. “Lisa Abbot.”
“Lisa would never sabotage Maxx,” Taylor cried, outrage filling her.
“Are you positive? She has the financial background to know her way around a sophisticated computer system. She could have gotten the code from Trent when they were married.”
“She couldn’t have done it. She was out of the country until this week.”
Shane stopped and gazed down at Taylor. “No. She’s been in Miami for over a month.”
Taylor stared at the photograph of Paul Ashton. How vividly she recalled the day she’d taken it. It seemed like yesterday but it was nearly three years old.
He’d come into the bedroom she used as a home office, asking, “What are you doing?”
It was Saturday morning and she was supposed to be relaxing, but she’d momentarily forgotten her promise to Paul. She’d been answering her E-mail and had downloaded an article on Perlane sent to her by a colleague in England.
Paul came up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders, and began massaging. “Okay, babe, what’s more important than going to the beach?”
“Nothing.”
She’d promised not to make her life all about work, but sometimes it was difficult. Her computer game, the cosmetics business seemed to consume all her time.
Paul was right. It wasn’t fair. She needed a personal life, downtime when she could enjoy herself.
Enjoy time with Paul, a man who swept her away from work into a world of fun and simple pleasures like a Saturday morning stroll along the beach, people watching and waiting for SoBe to wake up after another late night at the clubs.
“An E-mail about Perlane, right?” Paul asked, staring over her shoulder at the computer screen.
“Yes. It’s from Ethan in London where they’ve used the gel for years. It’s a little like collagen,” she felt compelled to explain. “It plumps up your cheeks or lips and gives them a glow.”
“You’re beautiful exactly the way you are.” He kissed the curve of her neck.
“Thanks, but with age, women begin to sag and wrinkle. Perlane can be injected without the allergic reactions many women have with collagen.”
“Why is that?” he asked but he didn’t sound really interested.
“It’s a biosynthetic form of hyaluronic acid, which is a natural substance found in the body. That’s why there are fewer reactions to it than—”
“Hey! I give up. Are we going out or are you going to spend a beautiful day in front of your computer?”
“You’re right. I’m outta here.”
She logged off and stood up. Paul swept her into his arms, then kissed her.
“I’ve been waiting my whole life for a woman like you. I don’t want to waste a lot of time hanging with a computer. Right?”
“Right,” she agreed, thinking about how she’d spent her life before meeting Paul at Bash, a trendy SoBe club. It had been a rare night out with friends, but Paul had brought new meaning to her life.
Live.
Don’t just devote yourself to work. Enjoy the beach, the galleries, the cafés, the clubs, the people. The SoBe life.
He’d led her out of the office, saying, “I have a plan. Let’s walk to Brew Ha-Ha, get coffee, then head for the galleries instead of the beach. Let’s see what’s new. Okay?”
“Great idea,” she’d replied, knowing he’d suggested this because she loved art.
Work had consumed her for the past few weeks. The galleries would have changed exhibits and there would be new, exciting artists to view. She blessed Paul for keeping her out of the confining business world she lived in each day.
She hadn’t truly felt alive until Paul had come into her life.
Chapter 10
Doyle savored his morning cup of coffee in the sunroom of the Coconut Grove mansion he’d purchased because Brianna had admired it. She was still upstairs getting dressed, but she would be down in a few minutes.
He prayed she wouldn’t initiate sex.
Again.
It had been almost a week since Brianna had returned from New Orleans. She wanted sex all the time, which wasn’t unusual. She’d always been a sex kitten, but there was something … forced about her lovemaking now.
He wondered if she was having an affair and covering it up. He supposed he could hire an investigator and have her followed, but he wasn’t really sure he wanted to know.
The last thing he could afford right now was another expensive divorce.
“What do you think?”
Brianna swanned into the room in an electric blue sundress and matching high-heeled sandals. Like most Cuban women in Miami, Brianna favored bright colors and flashy jewelry. After years with Sophie dressing in drab clothes, it was a refreshing change.
“You look gorgeous, darling.”
The maid appeared with café con leche for Brianna. Doyle preferred American-style coffee, but Brianna had grown up with Cuban food and liked espresso diluted with a splash of steamed milk.
“I’ve been thinking,” Brianna said, sitting down.
Doyle released a pent-up sigh of relief. He could tell from her expression this wasn’t about sex.
“Thinking about what?”
