Slow Burn

by Janice Maynard

  USA TODAY bestselling author JANICE MAYNARD loved books and writing even as a child. After multiple rejections, she finally sold her first manuscript! Since then, she has written sixty books and novellas. Janice lives in Tennessee with her husband, Charles. They love hiking, travelling and family time.

  You can connect with Janice at www.janicemaynard.com, www.Twitter.com/janicemaynard, www.Facebook.com/janicemaynardreaderpage, www.Facebook.com/ janicesmaynard and www.Instagram.com/therealjanice maynard

  Also by Janice Maynard

  Southern Secrets

  Blame It on Christmas

  A Contract Seduction

  Bombshell for the Black Sheep

  The Men of Stone River

  After Hours Seduction

  Upstairs Downstairs Temptation

  Secrets of a Playboy

  Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

  Slow Burn

  Janice Maynard

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  ISBN: 978-0-008-90469-2

  SLOW BURN

  © 2020 Harlequin Books S.A.

  Published in Great Britain 2020

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

  By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

  ® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  Note to Readers

  This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

  Change of font size and line height

  Change of background and font colours

  Change of font

  Change justification

  Text to speech

  This book is dedicated to my wonderful readers.

  2020 hasn’t been the year we all envisioned for

  ourselves. In the midst of uncertainty and change, I am

  so grateful for your love of books, and I’m thankful that

  we take this journey together!

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  Booklist

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note to Readers

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  About the Publisher

  One

  Jake Lowell had circumnavigated the globe more than once in the last fifteen years. He’d traveled everywhere and seen everything. Well, except for Antarctica. That continent was still on his bucket list. But of all the cities and countries he’d visited and/or put down temporary roots, the one place he absolutely thought he’d never return to again was Falling Brook, New Jersey.

  The town’s name was idyllic. Jake’s memories weren’t.

  He’d left his birthplace at twenty-two, in the midst of scandal and tragedy. And he’d never returned. Until today. Under duress.

  When his stomach growled for the third time, he pulled into a gas station and topped off his tank. The credit-card machine on the pump was out of paper, so he wandered inside for his receipt and to grab a very late lunch. In the end, he decided a candy bar would do for now. He’d always had a sweet tooth.

  As he paid for his purchases, the stack of newspapers near the checkout stand caught his eye. The usual suspects were there. New York Times. Wall Street Journal. But it was the small-town paper that gave him heartburn. The headline screamed, “Vernon Lowell Lives! Black Crescent Fugitive Located in Remote Caribbean Location.”

  Jake’s stomach churned. The story had broken over a week ago, but the local news outlets were milking it daily. He’d had time to get used to the incredibly upsetting news, but he was still in shock. For a decade and a half, he had known his father was gone. Probably living it up in the bowels of hell. Now the dead had come to life.

  When the cashier handed Jake his receipt, she gave him a curious look. Too late for him to realize he should have paid cash. Would the woman see the name on his card and put two and two together? Was she part of the always speedy Falling Brook grapevine?

  The name Lowell wasn’t all that unusual, but here in Falling Brook it was radioactive. Fifteen years ago, Jake’s father, Vernon Lowell, had absconded with an enormous sum of money—the assets belonging to some of Falling Brook’s most high-profile citizens. A dozen or more elite clients had entrusted Black Crescent Hedge Fund with their fortunes and their futures. Vernon, along with his CFO and best friend, Everett Reardon, were financial wizards who founded Black Crescent and made piles of cash for everyone involved.

  But, inexplicably, something went very wrong. The money evaporated. Everett Reardon was killed in a car crash while fleeing police. And Jake’s father disappeared from the face of the earth, presumably dead.

  The living were left to clean up the mess. And what a mess it was.

  Jake drove aimlessly, tormented by the memories even now.

  Falling Brook was a small enclave, still not much more than two thousand residents. Jake had done his due diligence before returning home. He’d waded through enough online research to know that not much had changed. This town with the rarefied air and high-dollar real estate still protected the famous from the outside world.

  For a few moments, Jake parked across the street from Nikki Reardon’s old house—a mansion, really—letting the engine idle. Nikki’s world, like Jake’s, had been destroyed by her father’s misdeeds. Fifteen years ago she’d fled town with her mother, their lives also in ruins.

  When Jake allowed himself to remember Nikki, he experienced the strangest mix of yearning and uneasiness. Because his father and Nikki’s had been business partners and best friends, it was inevitable that the two families spent a considerable amount of time together while Jake was growing up. But what he remembered most about Nikki was his one wild night with her in Atlantic City five years ago.

  Though she was four years
younger than he was, she had always been mature for her age. Eons ago, she had been his first real girlfriend. Despite all that, the alluring woman he’d hooked up with in a brief, unexpected, passionate reunion in a casino hotel was far different from the redheaded, pale-skinned beauty he had known as a very young man.

  That new Nikki had dazzled him. And scared him.

  Muttering under his breath, Jake made himself set the car in motion. Nikki’s ghost might still wander the halls of that glamorous house, but she was long gone.

  His immediate destination was a small boutique hotel known for its discreetness and luxury. Jake needed the first and would enjoy the second. Though he possessed the skills to live off the land, these days he much preferred a comfortable bed at the end of the day.

  Once he checked into his spacious, beautifully appointed room, he sat on the edge of the mattress and stared at his phone. He needed to let Joshua know he had arrived. Joshua Lowell. Jake’s brother, his twin. The only characteristics they shared were dirty blond hair, their six-foot-two-inch height and eyes that were a mix of hazel and green.

  When Josh had called to say their father had been found, Josh asked Jake to come back to Falling Brook, and had invited him to stay in his home. But the invitation was obviously issued out of duty. The brothers hadn’t been face-to-face in fifteen years. Other than the occasional stilted text or email on birthdays and Christmases, or the very recent phone call, they might as well have been strangers.

  Over the years, Jake had made himself hard to track down. On purpose. He had cut ties with his siblings, and now he knew little of their personal lives. When he was twenty-two, he hadn’t fully understood that family was family, no matter what. He also hadn’t realized that being a footloose, rolling stone would eventually lose its appeal.

  Now that he was a seasoned man of thirty-seven, he was hoping to mend fences, especially since Joshua wanted Jake’s input on the CEO search at Black Crescent. It felt good to be consulted.

  Joshua had agreed to meet in the hotel restaurant at seven. The entire place was dark and intimate, but even so, Jake offered the hostess a fifty to seat him and his prospective dinner date at an inconspicuous table. If anyone saw two of the three Lowell brothers together again, tongues would wag.

  Jake hated the paparazzi. In the aftermath of his father’s disappearance, reporters had hounded every member of the Lowell and Reardon families. In fact, any family connected to the scandal was targeted. Jake, a newly minted university grad at the time, had already been planning to backpack around Europe, so he simply moved up his timetable and fled.

  Josh—good old dependable Josh—had been left to clean up the mess. The guilt from that one decision hounded Jake to this day. His brother had rebuilt Black Crescent bit by agonizing bit. Joshua had stayed the course, faced the accusers and cooperated with the police. Despite having incredible artistic talent, he had put his dreams on hold and tried to make up for their father’s despicable deeds.

  Jake had done nothing but pursue a selfish agenda.

  Sometimes, the truth sucked.

  When Joshua arrived, Jake leaped to his feet and hugged his brother awkwardly, feeling a tsunami of emotional baggage threaten to pull him under. “Long time no see.” He winced inwardly at what must have sounded like a flippant comment at best.

  The two men sat, and a hovering sommelier poured two glasses of a rare burgundy that Jake remembered his brother enjoying. Although, who knew? Fifteen years was a long time. Tastes changed.

  Josh downed half the glass, leaned back in his chair and managed a small smile. It seemed genuine enough. “You look good, Jake.”

  “So do you.”

  A few seconds of silence ticked by.

  “This is weird.” Joshua raked a hand through his hair. He wore an expensive sport coat, dress pants and a crimson necktie. Jake, in jeans and a rugby shirt, felt scruffy in comparison. But that had always been the difference between them. Josh dressed the part of a wealthy man. Jake preferred to be unfettered by society’s dictates.

  He straightened his spine as tension tightened his jaw. “Here’s the thing,” he said abruptly. “I might as well get this off my chest. I’m sorry, Josh. I’m sorry Dad screwed us over, and I’m sorry I let you do the heavy lifting. I abandoned you. But I’m here now. For what it’s worth.”

  His brother’s smile was strained. Born first by three minutes, Josh had often taken the role of “older” brother seriously. He sighed, the sound a mix of resignation and something else. “I quit being mad at you a long time ago, Jake. We all choose our own path in life. Nobody made me stay and sort through Dad’s screwups.”

  “But we both thought he was dead.” It was true. Their mother, Eve, had hired private detectives fifteen years ago. The feds had searched for months. No sign of Vernon Lowell anywhere.

  Joshua’s gaze was bleak. “It would have been easier if he was dead, wouldn’t it?”

  The harsh truth hung between them. Jake’s stomach clenched. Authorities had recently located Vernon Lowell on a remote Bahamian island and extradited him to the United States. Currently, the patriarch was languishing in federal custody. And he wanted to see his two oldest sons.

  Oliver, their younger brother, had made the pilgrimage recently. It hadn’t gone well.

  “We have to go, don’t we?” Jake said.

  Josh shrugged. “He can’t make us.”

  “On the other hand, telling him to go to hell might give us closure.”

  His brother’s lips twitched. “You have a valid point.”

  “I guess these last six months haven’t been easy for you after that damn reporter wrote an anniversary piece about the Black Crescent debacle. I didn’t see it until recently.”

  Joshua’s smile broadened. “Actually, I have no complaints. I’m now engaged to that damn reporter.”

  Jake’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me that when you called?”

  “You and I hadn’t spoken in forever. I wanted to give you the news in person. We’re planning a wedding very soon. Sophie is great. You’ll like her. And you might as well know, she’s the one who encouraged me to resurrect my art career. That’s why I’m giving up the helm of Black Crescent.”

  “That explains the CEO search. I was wondering why now.” If anybody deserved to follow his dreams, it was Josh. “I’m happy for you. What will happen to the company, though?”

  Joshua didn’t answer immediately, because a waiter dropped off their appetizers. A few moments later, Josh drummed his fingers on the table, his unease palpable. “You’ve played the part of a dilettante well over the years. No one realized you were a financial wunderkind.” Joshua’s smile was wry.

  Jake tried not to squirm. “Why would you say that?”

  “I’ve been doing some digging, baby brother. You’re an uncannily successful day trader. Probably richer than I am. At the risk of insulting you, I’d say you’ve inherited some of Dad’s business savvy. But not his morals,” Josh said hastily.

  Jake told himself not to overreact. “I’ve had some success,” he said mildly. “And I’m not your baby brother.”

  Joshua stared at him, gaze clear, jaw firm. “I want you to take over Black Crescent.”

  What? “Oh, no,” Jake said. “Oh, hell no.” His hand fisted on the table. “Surely, you have other possibilities.”

  “We do, actually. I’ve been interviewing candidates for some time now. But I don’t know that any of them are exactly right.”

  “Well, you’re dead wrong if you think I’m the man.”

  “Maybe.” Joshua’s expression was hard to read.

  “What about Oliver? I’m guessing he doesn’t want to give up his photography?” The youngest Lowell brother had been affected deeply by their father’s betrayal, perhaps even more than Josh and Jake. His anger and despair had led him into addiction. Fortunately, he’d been clean for a
very long time now.

  “Oliver is finally in a good place. Finding out Dad is alive has been hard for him. He’s dealing with a lot of the old anger. But he’s handling it well.”

  Eventually, the meal came to an end and Joshua insisted on picking up the tab. A nice gesture, but unnecessary. Awkwardness returned.

  Joshua frowned as he slid his credit card back into his billfold. “I need to talk to you about something important,” he said. “Something I didn’t want to say over the phone. But not here.”

  “More important than the fact our father has returned from the dead?”

  Jake expected at least a smile for his snarky question. But Joshua was serious. “Perhaps. How ’bout we walk while we talk?”

  With his mind spinning, Jake followed his brother through the restaurant and outside onto the sidewalk. The air was crisp, though not unpleasant. It was early November. A few businesses had already begun to decorate for the holidays, getting a jump on the busiest season of the year.

  For fifteen Decembers, Christmas had been a painful season for Jake, presumably for the rest of his family, too. It was a reminder of all he had lost. The memories of happy times with the Lowell family of five gathered around the tree had faded beyond repair. In the golden years of Jake’s childhood, there had been spectacular gifts: ponies, guitars, racing bikes. Everything a kid could want.

  And then it was all gone. Even worse, other families, innocent families, had been hurt. Jake and his siblings and his mother had been innocent, too, but no one had wanted to believe that. They were vilified, scorned. Hated.

  Jake hunched his shoulders in his jacket and matched his brother’s stride as they set off down the street. He didn’t want to think about the bad times, but the memories clung to him like cobwebs. There was no peace to be had in Falling Brook.

  Even so, it felt good to get some exercise. For three blocks, Joshua didn’t say a word. Jake tried to wait him out, but his patience evaporated quickly. “Why are you being so mysterious?”