by Jessa Eden
Whoops of laughter escaped me. “No way.”
Micah shook his head. “He acted like an utter fool. On one hole, he only used a putter. It took him twenty-five strokes to reach the green. Yeah, it was a real joy to play golf with Charlie,” Micah said, explaining my boy’s outrageous behavior.
My eyes were wide with delighted outrage. “Is that true?” I asked as I turned toward Charlie.
His brown eyes lit up with mischief as he smirked. “Oh, yeah. I was pretty bad.”
“He got us kicked out of the golf course and I had to lay down five K, so the golf course wouldn’t press charges,” Micah offered.
I felt a little paternal pride at my kid’s antics. “Oh, man! That is bad.”
“So watch him. He has a very cunning mind that loves to think up ridiculous pranks,” Micah warned.
“I’m watching you,” I said, pointing my fingers in a V back and forth to signal I was on to him.
He put his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. You got me.”
After Micah called Charlie’s bluff, we actually got to play a little one on one. Like we were supposed to do in the first place.
Micah stayed for a little while, but begged off when Emma called him. We finished up as Charlie sent a couple of zingers toward the net, scoring both times.
Sneaky bastard.
My son reminded me of my granddad.
“Wanna go get a beer?” I asked as we took off our skates.
“Sure.”
We went out for wings and I asked him if he played hockey growing up as we waited for our food.
“Oh, yeah, I played. Are you kidding? My mom is a hockey nut. She watches all of the Baltimore Gator games.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised.
“Yep. It’s one of her favorite things.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I’m gonna guess there’s a whole lot you don’t know about my mom.”
“Maybe.” I took another swig of my beer, wondering what else I didn’t know about Marla. “That reminds me, I know you’re mine, but for legal reasons, I would like to get a paternity test done. Are you cool with that?”
He grabbed a napkin. “Sure. You want my spit right now?”
I laughed “No, but thanks for the offer. I’ll have a technician come to you. Cool?”
“Sure.”
*****
Later that week, after I had proof Charlie was mine, I told my father about my kid when I stopped to check up on him. He was on the front porch, drinking his Mint Julep, taking in the fall day.
“I’ve got a kid, dad,” I announced as I took a seat in the other rocker on the wide plantation style porch.
He didn’t react at first, but he did reach for his drink.
He narrowed his haughty glance at me. “How do you know it’s yours?”
I scoffed. “Believe me, I know. He has the Shepard nose and he looks just like me. Plus, I have the DNA proof right here.” I patted my jacket pocket.
“Be careful, Bubba. Women are vicious creatures.”
I knew he was referring to Marla. “Yeah, don’t I know it? But it’s weird she never told me or asked for support. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“Not really. She was probably sleeping around on you.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t seem like Marla.”
“You made the right call, Bubba. Your life turned out the way it was supposed to.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Marla:
That steamy encounter with Beau unnerved me. He revved my engine as no one else could and it had taken all of my self-control to walk away from him.
Part of me—the wicked part—wanted to give in to his seductive demands. Yet, I wasn’t sure if I could live with the aftermath. He was still hell bent on revenge, but I couldn’t afford to let him devastate my life by owning me. Neither one of us would survive that. And I didn’t want to be destroyed in the wake of his wrath.
Secretly, I knew Beau couldn’t live with himself if he hurt me, but he was doing his best to convince himself otherwise. So I went about my business and tried to stay out his way, which wasn’t hard because there was radio silence on his end.
Things stayed that way until one morning when I got yet another one of his surprises. A white manila envelope with the address of Hughes, Miller, and Associates caught my attention as I examined a pile of the salon’s mail in my office.
I slid the letter open and found a cryptic note inside.
It read:
Ms. Matthews,
It is my duty to inform you that Beau Shepard is bequeathing a trust on Charles Beau Matthews. At your earliest convenience, please contact Mr. Shepard for further instructions.
Sincerely,
Graham Hughes, Esq.
Great, another set of directives involving Beau.
I didn’t know what his angle was this time. I really hoped he wouldn’t try to use our son against me somehow. He wasn’t gonna like my mama bear claws coming out if he messed with our kid.
Not wanting to wait, I called him up while I still had a couple of minutes before my next client.
“What is this?” I asked as soon as I heard Beau come on the line.
He ignored the irritation in my voice. “You must be talking about the letter one of my attorneys sent you. We need to discuss this in person. Are you available this afternoon?”
His professional tone took me off-guard. “Um...I’m done with my last client at one.”
“Perfect. I’ll pick you up.”
“Why do you need to come get me?” I asked suspiciously.
“You’ll see. Just be ready.”
Click.
The line went dead.
I shook my head as I put my cell phone down on my desk. Charly did the same thing when I talked to him on the phone— like grandson like grandfather.
The rest of the day slipped by; and after I ate a spinach salad, I slipped outside, enjoying the warm afternoon. I sunned myself for a few minutes as I sat on the bench outside the salon. I loved the warm rays caressing my bare shoulders.
I needed to get home and spend some time in the garden. I was eager to dig up some lettuce, cucumber and tomato for a fresh summer salad. Hopefully, this thing with Beau wouldn’t take long.
Checking my phone for the time, I noticed a black SUV pulling up to the curb of the parking lot.
Great.
Mr. Sexy was right on time.
Beau:
The driver opened the door and Marla stepped into the Escalade. Her hair was down, still as shiny and pretty as it was in high school. She was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white blouse, which made her glow with that damn radiance I found so distracting.
“Don’t you have a regular car?” she asked, looking at the SUV’s dark interior with the seats facing each other. “Why do we have to drive around in this?”
“Because I didn’t want to have to drive and discuss this with you.”
“Why? Is it bad?”
“Not really. I just thought this way would be easier.”
“Then, let’s get to it. What do you need from me?”
“I need your signature on some trust papers for Charlie.”
“Why do you need my signature?”
“Because you’re his mother and I’m not letting him touch a dime until I’m satisfied he can handle it.”
She was immediately defensive. “Your son is a great kid. He’s earned his accounting degree while maintaining a 3.8 grade point average. He comes to work every day and does a great job with the salon’s books. I agree he needs to grow up some, but I wish you would give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“So I should let him have the hundred million in his trust fund right now?”
Disbelief spread across her face as her mouth fell open. “What?”
“Yeah, this kid is going to be beyond rich and I want to make sure he can handle it.”
“I thought you were gonna give him like a couple thousand
or something like that.”
“Do you even know how wealthy I am?”
She shrugged. “No. I knew you did well, but I never paid attention, I guess.”
Despite my underlining anger toward her, I loved hearing that. Marla had never been impressed by money.
“Well, Charlie’s my only heir and I want to take care of him.”
She glanced at me nervously. “I don’t know, Beau. That’s too much money. I don’t want him spoiled and unwilling to work because he doesn’t have to. I don’t want him to give up on his dreams.”
“That’s why this trust needs to be set up in the right way.”
I held out my hand. “Well, give me the papers to look over.”
“I don’t have them with me.”
“Where are they?”
“We’re about to get on my plane and go get them.”
“Can’t you just fax or email the papers over to me?”
“No. That isn’t possible. We have to do this in person.”
“That seems so old-fashioned.”
“It is. But it’s the way things get done right.”
“All right. Let’s go on a plane ride,” she sighed. “Is this going to take the rest of the day?”
“It might,” I answered cryptically, as we sped toward the airport.
I wanted to get her alone, somewhere beautiful and secluded. I wasn’t giving up on the idea of having her in my bed for a long weekend.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Marla:
We drove out onto a small strip of land where an old municipal airport sat. The tarmac was empty, except for one spit and polished private jet waiting outside a hangar. We boarded the fancy plane, sporting all kinds of bells and whistles.
The interior was warm and inviting. Two couches, one teal, one light brown leather were along the far wall. They were clustered together with several chairs, which made for two separate sitting areas. The teal and tan upholstery made the dark wood of the chairs pop while a flat screen TV was against the back wall, just in case someone wanted to catch a movie or a game.
The whole setup made me think of a flying living room.
“Wow. Do you always travel in style like this?” I asked, staring at the plush teal couch surrounded by comfortable chairs.
“Absolutely.”
“Must be nice. I think I’m lucky if I get a window seat when I fly or an upgrade on a hotel room.”
“Then you should enjoy the ride,” Beau said, brushing past me with his computer bag in hand.
He was wearing a white button down shirt, open at the top, which was tucked into a pair of dark designer slacks that highlighted his long legs and great ass. His sleeves were rolled halfway up, like he had been working hard all day on a project, which demanded his full attention, while his five o’clock shadow gave him a slightly dangerous vibe.
I tried to ignore how delicious he looked. “This is really your plane?” I asked again, taking another glance around.
“Yeah, it’s one of them.”
My mouth went slack in shock. “You have more than one plane?”
“I do. I have a fleet of planes.”
“Why?”
“Business reasons, mostly. But I do like things that go fast.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Champagne?” A perky, efficient stewardess presented me with a tray of drinks as I stood in the walkway.
“Don’t mind if I do,” I said, grabbing a glass off her tray. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything.” She smiled and headed toward the back, leaving Beau and I alone.
“Where should I sit?” I asked him, glancing around at all the places to sit.
“Wherever you want,” he supplied, taking a seat in one of the teal chairs by a table. He set up his laptop, while I wondered what to do with myself.
I chose the light brown leather couch. “We don’t need to discuss this trust anymore?” I asked, after we sat in silence for a few minutes.
He glanced over at me briefly. “We’ll go over everything once we arrive.”
“Oh, okay.”
That was fine by me. This was his show.
So I concentrated on my yummy champagne as we taxied down the runaway and took off into the bright blue sky. I sat back and enjoyed the ride, thinking we were on a short flight to New York.
Boy, was I wrong.
By the time I realized we had been over the ocean for quite some time, instead of approaching a city, it was too late to do anything about it.
“Beau, this doesn’t look like New York City,” I announced worriedly.
“What made you think we’re going to New York City?” he asked, glancing up from his computer.
“I assumed that’s where your bank is.”
“No. It’s in a little more exotic locale.”
“Then where are we going?” I asked, suddenly super sober after enjoying two glasses of champagne.
He smiled mysteriously. “Just sit back. We’ll be there in an about an hour.”
Great, I was being hijacked to some secret location.
Way to go, Marla.
Note to self: next time ask where you are going, before you set foot on the private plane.
Oh, well.
Nothing could done about it now. I was stuck on this plane until we landed wherever the heck we were going. Staring out the window, I noticed the sea was changing into a bright turquoise color. That must mean somewhere warm.
Oh, goody.
After what seemed like an eternity, the wheels came down and the plane landed on what appeared to be some kind of tropical island. We had only been on the plane for two and a half hours. So we definitely weren’t in the South Pacific.
Still, curiosity was killing me.
“Now, will you tell me where we are?” I asked Beau, as we stepped out into the beautiful balmy air.
He smiled beautifully. “We’re in the Bahamas.”
The lush green landscape instantly calmed me. This was much better than the concrete jungle of New York City.
“Why is your bank in the Bahamas?” I asked, scrounging around in my purse for my sunglasses.
“Some of the best banks in the world are here and this is where I manage my money.”
I slid the black tinted glasses onto my face. “Sounds fancy.”
“It really isn’t. We’ll go the bank, sign some papers, and be on our merry way back to Baltimore.”
“I can handle that.”
“Good. Here’s your renewed passport.” He handed me a blue little booklet.
I opened it up and saw my bio picture from the salon’s website. “How the hell did you do that?”
He smiled mysteriously. “I have my ways.”
“I bet you do.”
After clearing customs, we piled into an open-aired jeep and Beau tore into town as the warm wind whipped through my hair. It was going to be a tangled mess, but I didn’t care.
The island was beautiful. Between the azure colored ocean and the bright colonial style pastel buildings, I was quite charmed to be in the Caribbean.
The streets were narrow, but Beau flew around them, as if he had done it a million times before. I guess he knew his way around the city.
When we got to the bank, the tall, distinguished manager with the dark rimmed glasses and thinning grey hairline approached us with a guarded glance in his brown eyes.
“Hello, Mr. Shepard. Welcome back to the Bahamas and Trust International.”
“Good to be back, Denton. Do you have everything ready for us?”
“There’s been a development, Mr. Shepard,” he explained worriedly.
“Yeah, what’s that?”
He wrung his thin hands. “The paperwork for your trust won’t be ready until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I asked in alarm. I hadn’t made plans to be away that long.
The bank manager turned toward me. “Yes, I’m so sorry, madam. We have an unexpected delay with our legal department an
d they won’t be available until tomorrow to verify all the documents.”
“I’m going to have my lawyer take care of it,” Beau snapped, obviously annoyed.
“Whatever you wish, Mr. Shepard.”
Beau grabbed his cell phone out of the interior pocket of his grey sports coat. “Can you make a quick trip to the Bahamas?” he fired into the phone. “Good. I’m sending the jet now.”
“So he’s on his way?” the manager asked.
“He should be here by this evening. He can go over the paperwork first thing in the morning,” Beau said, tucking his phone back into his jacket.
“Very good, sir.”
“That still doesn’t fix my problem of being stuck here,” I pointed out, wondering what to do about the situation.
“You want to go back with the jet?” Beau asked. “Be my guest. But you’re just going to have to fly back down here tomorrow.”
“That seems silly.”
“It is. You can stay at my house and enjoy the beach.”
That piqued my interest.
With that in mind, I agreed to go with Beau back to his house. If I was forced to stay over for a night, his villa was the place to do it in style.
Villa was an understatement.
It must have easily been ten thousand square feet of pure Caribbean living. Decked out with antiques from various centuries, wide bright windows with a panoramic view of the ocean, and pastel greens and blues splashed across various walls, it was amazing. Breathtaking.
I took it all in as Beau introduced me to his housekeeper. “This is Mrs. Thorngood. She’ll take care of you and get you set up in a room.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, extending my hand.
Mrs. Thorngood was a lady of about sixty-five, with a friendly bearing, which made me feel right at home, as she warmly shook my hand. “We’re glad to have you. Follow me and I’ll give you a tour and show you the room you’ll be staying in.”
“Sounds awesome.” I was eager to see Beau’s mansion.
He disappeared while I went on a tour of the house. I had no idea if I would see him before the next morning.
