Every Waking Moment

by Meryl Sawyer

  She told her, “Give it a few minutes, then smell it again.”

  “What you’ll have then,” Marcel added, “is the middle notes, or the heart of the perfume.”

  “Later, when the perfume has dried and been on your skin for a while, the base note is what lingers,” she added.

  Taylor led them over to the counter where they were testing the latest batch of their perfume.

  “Did I get a sample of this?” Renata asked. “I wear Unforgettable but I might give this a try.”

  “Yes, you have a couple.” Actually, she’d taken at least a dozen.

  “Explain to me exactly how you make perfume,” Renata said with what appeared to be genuine enthusiasm.

  Clearly charmed, Marcel launched into a step-by-step explanation. Taylor supplied a few details, but mainly she observed the dark-haired woman who was posing as a member of the family. Renata asked questions, many of them very intelligent, and seemed so interested that Taylor was suspicious.

  Then Taylor got it.

  Renata was going to dazzle her mother with her knowledge. Taylor knew her mother would be impressed.

  No doubt about it.

  Taylor’s father had been the driving force behind the company, but her mother flitted in and out of To The Maxx regularly. She was a smart woman who knew each product thoroughly.

  “You must love working here,” Renata commented when they’d finished and were walking back to the main building.

  “It’s very interesting,” Taylor replied, noticing something almost wistful in Renata’s expression.

  She supposed To The Maxx seemed glamorous to a stripper in a seedy club. She didn’t have the heart to say it was a lot of number crunching and dealing with vendors and distributors. It was hard work, and it took a strong person with sharp business skills to do her job.

  “Do you think there’s something here I could do?” Renata asked.

  Taylor nearly tripped over her own feet. Renata around full time? God forbid.

  “Since you’re going back to New Orleans, you must want to spend your time seeing the sights.”

  Like the Miami sun, hate burned in Renata’s dark eyes for a second, then it vanished so quickly Taylor thought she’d imagined it.

  “Didn’t your mother tell you? Caleb and I are staying. Vanessa says there’s plenty of room at the house.”

  “Really?” Taylor smiled—or tried to. “She hasn’t mentioned it, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy living there.”

  “A job here would be just perfect. It’ll give me something to do besides shop.”

  Over my dead body, Taylor thought. “My mother needs to spend time with you. She hasn’t long to live, you understand.”

  Renata smiled and tossed her long hair over her shoulder in a gesture of defiance. “Vanessa doesn’t need me around all day. She’s got Caleb. They play mahjong by the hour and hardly pay attention to me.”

  This was news to Taylor, but she didn’t comment.

  “For sure Caleb won’t be getting a job. He has a bad back.”

  The bitterness Taylor had noticed in New Orleans had returned with a vengeance. It almost sounded as if Renata hated her father. Again, Taylor wondered what kind of man sat at home while his daughter worked in a strip joint.

  There was something going on—more than they knew about yet. She needed to have Shane continue checking into Renata’s background.

  “So what about a job?” There was a challenging, almost threatening glint to Renata’s eyes even though her tone was casual.

  “Look, my mother wants to believe you’re her missing daughter, but I don’t buy it. Not for one second.”

  “Who’s to say I’m not her daughter? You can’t prove I’m not.”

  Taylor was damn well going to try. An idea had already formed in her mind while they had been discussing perfume.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Taylor snapped. “I’m not letting you hang around here.”

  “I wouldn’t hang around. I would work.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Taylor kept her voice low, but anger punctuated every syllable. “I don’t want you here. Stay with Mother. Make her last days happy ones.”

  “Taylor, I’m here!”

  She turned to see Brianna sailing down the hall. She often came to have a late lunch with Doyle. Taylor held in a sigh of relief, grateful to Brianna for diverting the conversation.

  “You’ve met Renata,” she said the instant Brianna was close enough to talk.

  “Of course.” Brianna’s smile was easy, charming. Her trademark. “It’s great to see you. Isn’t this, like, a totally amazing place?”

  “Totally,” Renata agreed. “I was just asking if there was a job here for me.”

  If Brianna was shocked by the statement, it didn’t show in her face. “Why would you want to work here?”

  “I love cosmetics. I always have. Since I was young enough to swipe my grandmother’s lipstick, I’ve adored makeup.” She looked directly at Taylor. “I’m just the person to work here.”

  “I don’t know,” Brianna said when Taylor couldn’t utter a word for fear of losing her temper. “It’s a lot of hard work, and it isn’t very glamorous.”

  “I’m used to hard work,” Renata said, a sharp edge to her voice.

  “I’m sure you are,” replied Brianna. “I used to be a lap dancer before I married Doyle. I’m used to hard work. I wouldn’t want a job here unless I desperately needed the money.”

  “I want to work here.”

  There was a feral undertone to Renata’s voice now. It triggered a warning bell in Taylor’s brain. This woman was determined to cause trouble.

  There was only one way to get rid of her—the DNA test Now was the perfect time to collect samples. Caleb was at the hospital with her mother.

  If Renata could be kept here, Taylor would have enough time to run to her mother’s house and get hair samples. It was the perfect opportunity.

  “Brianna, I have to call one of our vendors in California. Could you show Renata the anti-aging lotions our product development department is testing?”

  “Sure. Tell Doyle I’m here. We have lunch reservations at Café Baci.”

  Taylor liked the trendy dining spot with its unique menu and metallic domed ceiling, but she knew reservations there were hard to get. She couldn’t count on having Brianna stall Renata for as long as it would take her to drive to her mother’s home and collect the hair samples.

  Taylor rushed away. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She found Shane Donovan still hovering over the computer with Vince. “Shane, could you help me?”

  He spun around, obviously glad to see her, and he smiled, a surprisingly endearing grin that gave her a flash of what Shane must have been like as a young boy.

  A devil.

  Adorable.

  She’d become extremely conscious of his virile appeal and the way her feelings for him were changing.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  She motioned for him to come with her, out of Vince’s hearing range. “Renata’s down in product development with Brianna, but she has to go to lunch with Doyle,” she said in a breathless rush. “Could you show Renata the accounting department and then take her upstairs to the executive dining room for lunch? That’ll give me time to get to my mother’s house and collect those DNA samples.”

  “Not a problem,” Shane replied. “I’ll stall Renata for as long as I can.”

  Taylor flashed him a grateful smile, but she couldn’t help thinking a man like Shane Donovan wouldn’t have a bit of trouble “stalling” a woman, even a hard-as-nails person like Renata.

  “Shane, are you still checking into Caleb and Renata’s background? They’ve decided to stay here with Mother, and I’m dead certain something about those two is really wrong.”

  Shane moved closer and put his hand on her shoulder in a gesture that was almost intimate. “Your mother pulled the plug. She paid us for what we’ve done, but she said it was no longer n
ecessary to look into their past. She just told us this morning. I didn’t have the chance to tell you.”

  “I’ll pay you whatever it takes,” she said, her words barely above a whisper.

  Those two con artists weren’t going to take advantage of her dying mother.

  Doyle came back from lunch with Brianna, in the best mood in a long time. It didn’t last five minutes. On his desk was a stack of messages. One of them was from the family attorney, Ridley Pudge, an old friend and classmate at Duke. The message was marked “urgent” and said to call immediately.

  Doyle sank into his chair and dialed Ridley’s office. “What’s happening?” he asked as if he weren’t worried when his friend came on the line.

  “I just want to give you a heads-up. Off the record, right? You never heard this from me.”

  “Of course. You know you can count on me.”

  Sweat peppered Doyle’s upper lip and he swiped at it with the back of his hand. What now?

  “This morning Vanessa called for an appointment. I’m booked until next week, but she insisted on getting in tomorrow, so my secretary consulted me. Vanessa wants to change her will.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “That’s all I’m going to be able to tell you. I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all but …”

  Doyle knew the “but” referred to the loan he’d once made Ridley when he was between wives and strapped for cash.

  “Thanks, Ridley. I’ll see you at the club.”

  Vanessa’s changing the will wouldn’t affect him financially, but it could very well affect Taylor and Trent. And To The Maxx.

  At lunch, Brianna had told him about showing Renata around the company. His wife was convinced the stripper truly wanted a position at the company.

  Jesus Willie Christ!

  If Vanessa died and left Renata part of Maxx, the woman might be able to block the sale of the company. Doyle pressed his hand over his closed eyes, wondering how much longer he could sustain his lifestyle without an infusion of cash.

  Not long. Six months maybe.

  The only hope he had of making any money was a monumental rebound in the stock market—a pipe dream—or the sale of Maxx. He couldn’t do anything about the market, but he could engineer the sale of the company.

  This computer snafu had slowed things down but hadn’t stopped it entirely. Vanessa’s death and the subsequent inheritance problem could.

  If only there were a way to get rid of the Rollins woman. He picked up the phone to call Brianna on her cell phone. She might have an idea.

  Shane lingered over coffee in the executive dining room with Renata, discussing—hell—embellishing—what little he knew about To The Maxx. He was an expert in computer security. He didn’t know mascara from lip gloss.

  “Just what is your position in the company?” Renata asked.

  She was a whole lot smarter than she let on, he’d decided just after he’d relieved Brianna, saying Taylor had an important appointment and he would finish Renata’s tour of the company.

  “I’m a consultant,” he hedged. “Computers are my specialty.” He didn’t add anything about how a Special Forces guy got into computers.

  “Why does To The Maxx need an independent consultant? They have a whole accounting department.”

  Good question.

  “I just check to make sure the computer security hasn’t been breached. You know how important it is to protect the formulas for the various products.”

  He leaned closer to the sultry brunette. “Trade secrets are stolen every day. Where better to infiltrate the system than the accounting department?”

  She bought it, nodding, eyes wide. “Of course.”

  A few minutes passed as they sipped their coffee in the minimalist executive dining room on the top floor of the building. Out of the sweep of glass, Shane could see the lush greenery of Coral Gables. The office building was a short distance from Vanessa Maxwell’s home. Taylor should be back any minute. She’d told him that she would find him when she returned.

  “I intend to learn this business from the ground up,” Renata said. “Where should I start?”

  Renata gazed at her reflection in her makeup mirror in the guest suite Vanessa had given her. Wow! Pricey cosmetics did make a huge difference.

  A red Mercedes convertible. Getting written into the will. Life was good.

  A far cry from tricking and stripping.

  Her luck had changed. She didn’t want anything to jinx her mojo now. She wished she could visit Marie Laveau’s grave. Lighting a candle, running both hands over the Xs would ensure her lucky streak kept going.

  “You look great, baby.”

  Caleb had come into her room without knocking. If the old bag didn’t like him so much, she’d dump him. When she got her mitts on the dough, she would.

  She’d had enough of him.

  A lifetime, it seemed, even though she was young, and it really hadn’t been that long.

  “I told you to knock.”

  The old fart’s reflection smirked at her from the mirror.

  “You’ve made quite an impression on Vanessa. It’s smart to ask to work at her company and act like you’re interested.”

  “I am interested. I don’t know what she plans to leave me, but I want to know enough to start my own cosmetics business.”

  Renata was pleased with herself. It hadn’t taken much to convince Vanessa to get her a job at To The Maxx. Taylor—the bitch—was going to have to learn to deal with her.

  “I say we take the money and head for Mexico, where it’ll last forever. Neither of us will ever have to work again.”

  She spun around to face him. “I don’t rightly recall you working.”

  “My back’s bad, honey. You know that.”

  She turned around again and found the glistening tube of Maxx lipstick. “It was easier to let me support you than work.”

  “There’s no point in fighting. I got you here. We’ll be rich in no time. Vanessa won’t live much longer.”

  “What will it take to get you out of my life?” she asked.

  Caleb’s reflection disappeared from the mirror. He stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

  This was the end, and he had to know it.

  She’d give him some money to get him out of her life. Let him go to Mexico. A man with his charm and looks could use the money while he found another woman to support him.

  She was staying right here.

  Chapter 12

  “Fate sends people into our lives to test us.”

  Interesting concept, he decided, mulling over the words. Had Shane Donovan been sent by fate, or was some other force at work?

  “What in hell is Shane Donovan doing in Miami?”

  He was dangerous to have around. No, more than dangerous.

  Shane was trouble, pure and simple. If he nosed around enough, he could screw up everything. He couldn’t allow that to happen. What was needed was a preemptive strike, something to throw off everyone.

  Especially Shane Donovan.

  That’s the ticket. Send everyone into a tailspin.

  Divert attention.

  What would work the best?

  Thinking and planning were essential. Patience was a virtue, but time was short now.

  A preemptive strike had to be made immediately.

  “Yes!” he cried. “Brilliant idea.”

  He knew exactly what his next move would be.

  Was he a genius, or what?

  Shane answered the knock on his door without looking through the peephole to see who it was. Auggie’s wagging tail told him that Taylor was here. A first, he thought, turning the doorknob.

  She’d come to him.

  “I know it’s late,” Taylor said as she stepped inside and patted Auggie.

  “It’s barely ten,” he said, closing the door.

  “I have the samples.” She handed him a small bag with two small plastic baggies inside.

  “Did y
ou have any trouble getting them?” he asked. They hadn’t been able to talk privately when Taylor had returned to finish showing Renata around the offices.

  “No. It was easy. I just gave Maria an excuse for being there. She didn’t pay any attention to me. She was too busy mopping the entry so it would dry before my mother returned.”

  She hesitated a moment. “I even had time to look through Renata’s things.”

  “Go on. You can’t mean it. You did that?” He was joking, but Taylor took him seriously.

  “I felt like a creep, but I couldn’t resist. I didn’t find anything worth mentioning. A lot of cheap makeup and phony jewelry. A closet full of new clothes. That’s it.”

  “What did you expect to find? She’s smart enough not to leave anything incriminating around. Did you get a chance to go through Caleb’s things?”

  “Yes, but there wasn’t anything interesting except …”

  “Except?”

  “I can understand my mother buying Renata clothes, but why would she buy clothes for Caleb?”

  Shane walked to the dining room table, where he had a FedEx mailer addressed and ready to go. He put the samples inside, saying, “She probably feels guilty because he raised her child. He doesn’t have much—”

  “What about his place in New Orleans? Those looked like genuine antiques to me.”

  “They leased it furnished.” He led her over to the sofa, and they sat down. “I have a contact on the New Orleans police force. He says neither of them have a criminal record in Louisiana—a least not under the names they are currently using.”

  “If Bassett is Caleb’s last name and Renata is truly his daughter, then her last name must be Bassett.”

  “Right, Sherlock.”

  She giggled and gazed at him with what he hoped was real interest. For once, Paul Ashton wasn’t hovering between them. Now was the time to tell her the whole truth.

  She’d be pissed, he decided, but she needed his help too much to dump him.

  “Did you have your friend check under the last name of Bassett?”

  “Yes, but there wasn’t anything. The Louisiana DMV issued a driver’s license to Renata Rollins.”

  Unfuckingbelievable! He’d chickened out and hadn’t told her a damn thing.