“I told you I was done with fighting.” And she truly wanted to be. This went beyond his looks to a piece inside her that had snapped. She just didn’t crave justice, or what she’d been taught equaled justice, with the same intensity as she did before.
“I want to believe you, Leah.”
“Then do. What’s wrong with the truck?” When his eyes narrowed, she laughed. “Really, no games. I saw you looking under the hood.”
“Do you know something about engines?”
“Not a thing, but I do know mechanics and thought I could direct you.”
The gas clicked off and he put it away and closed her tank again. “No trouble. I was adding oil.”
“Good.”
“Is it?”
“You don’t trust me.” She didn’t ask it as a question because she knew the answer.
“I want to.”
For some reason she expected a smart-ass reply, not a serious one. “You do?”
A car horn honked and a man rolled down his window. “You two almost done?”
Declan nodded. “Sorry about that.”
The guy waved him off. “No trouble.”
“Looks like we are done.” Declan smiled down at her. “For now.”
***
Beck dropped in the chair across from Declan at the dinner table. He shifted papers and files around. “Tell me what we’re doing again.”
Declan snatched back the notepad he’d been using before Beck read through the notes and started dissecting them. Last thing he needed was a heavy dose of lawyer-ese. “Having the worst Saturday night in history.”
“That much is obvious, but what’s with all the documents?”
That’s the part Declan wasn’t quite ready to share. Being in the house with Beck for a few days felt right. They fixed the immediate problems and did a few woodworking projects. Well, Declan did, while Beck supervised. But launching into the offer for a buyout from Leah and their upcoming meeting struck Declan as premature. He wanted to see what she had to say first.
He also didn’t need twenty-four hours of brotherly advice about women, and that’s exactly what Beck would give him. The two times Leah’s name came up, Beck offered his thoughts on how best to handle her, and he wasn’t talking about the house.
Declan put his hands on top of the two files on either side of his notepad. “I’m trying to piece the house ownership records together.”
“Why?” Beck opened a beer then opened a second and passed it to Declan.
“I figure you’re not the only one who should know what’s going on.” And that was almost the truth. Up until now, before meeting Leah, Declan had blocked most of the details. He knew they owned Shadow Hill together and that it was in big financial trouble. End of story.
Now that he wanted to keep the house, he had to educate himself on every piece of paper. Mostly, he had to be ready for whatever argument Leah threw at him tomorrow.
Beck leaned on the back two legs of his chair. “I kind of like being the one in the know.”
“Of course you do.”
“Look, the house ownership is pretty simple.”
Declan learned long ago not to say that. It didn’t apply to any part of his life. “I’ve found that nothing about Charlie or his past is simple.”
“Well, this is really about Marc Baron and our grandmother.” The front legs of the chair hit the ground and Beck started sifting through the documents. He pulled out what looked like an old deed and put it in front of Declan. “Leah’s parents owned the house but lost it when they lost all of their money in Dad’s con.”
That much sounded familiar. “When he took the town’s finances.”
“He did more than that. He pocketed insurance funds, retirement funds and a special fund that was supposed to be used to market the town for tourists.” More shuffling, then Beck added other documents to the stack in front of Declan. “A big hotel chain was working with the town leadership at the time about building. The state was involved. All that stopped and the hotel pulled out when Charlie disappeared with the money.”
The question raced up his throat. Declan bit it back, thinking family harmony outweighed knowing the answer, but then he thought about Leah and the sadness that moved into her eyes when she talked about the house. Maybe hiding and avoiding weren’t the answer after all.
Declan tried to soften the blow of his words. “You realize this is the guy you defend all the time.”
His baby brother finally looked up. “Who?”
“Charlie…our father.”
“What I’ve said is he’s never been found guilty in court.”
That kind of parsing always led to trouble. Declan had heard it in the military when guys tried to justify bad decisions. He’d heard it when he was nineteen and Charlie popped up to talk about “the old days” and insisted he’d been the wronged party. “Beck, come on.”
“Guilt versus innocence is a big deal in my job,” Beck pointed out.
“But you just laid out—”
Beck held up a finger. “The allegations.”
This was a wall Declan couldn’t climb over. Not now. Being a smart guy, Beck knew the facts. He just added everything up and got a different result from most people. “Whatever. Keep going.”
There was a beat of tense silence. Some staring. Beck’s mouth tightened, but then he went back to the paper compiling. “The house went on the market. A series of families owned it and one wanted to break it into rooms as a bed and breakfast or something, but they couldn’t get the zoning changed.”
“I’m sure Marc Baron was at the bottom of that.” Declan could almost envision the man manipulating the rules to suit him.
Declan had never met the older man but he’d seen the letters and the lawsuit. Marc Baron spewed hate. Declan tried to chalk it up to the guy being betrayed by a friend and a person he trusted, but it went deeper. After all these years Leah’s dad hadn’t shown any signs of moving on. He still wrote hate mail to “the heirs of Charlie Hanover.” Declan hoped Leah hadn’t inherited those traits.
Beck’s beer bottle hit the table with a clank. “So, years later our Nanette steps in, uses the insurance money from our grandfather’s estate, and buys the house.”
“And Marc Baron has been imploding ever since.”
Beck sat back in his chair. “Something like that.”
As far as Declan could see, the situation was the exact opposite of simple. It was a complex mess.
He put his elbows on the table and dropped his forehead into his hands. “No wonder Leah is trying to get us to leave.”
“Well, there are rumors about her family and ours.”
Declan glanced up and stared at Beck. “That our dad ran off with her mother? Yeah, I don’t think that’s a rumor.”
In what was the most annoying sound on the planet, Beck tapped his pen against his front teeth. “Tell me how we got on the subject of Leah.”
Probably had something to do with her being in his thoughts all the time . . . but Declan wasn’t ready to share that little gem either. “I ran into her today.”
“Interesting.”
Beck’s smile begged to be punched off his face. Declan thought about doing just that. “Is it?”
“Well, were you wearing pants when you ran into her?”
And this came from one brother. Declan was starting to worry about the double whammy when Cal arrived. “It’s not like that.”
“But, again, or maybe I should say still, you want it to be.”
No kidding. “She’s pretty.”
“I’m thinking there might be some other pretty women in this town.”
So why couldn’t he stop wanting this one? “She’s connected to the house, to us. For whatever reason that makes her more compelling.”
Beck shook his head and laughed.
“What?”
“If you think that’s what makes her compelling then I think you spent too much time on military bases in countries with limited access to women.”
Declan refused to analyze that comment. Still, running the idea by someone wasn’t a terrible idea. “Going out with her would be a mistake. I mean, it’s a bad idea, right?”
“Is that what’s happening? Are you two going out?”
In Declan’s mind, yes. In hers? He doubted it. “Not yet.”
His baby brother grew all serious. Even sat up straight in his chair and put the beer down. “Just be smart.”
Okay, that was too much. “Are you giving me the condom talk, because Mom delivered that one years ago.”
“Go slow, make sure this is about whatever you’re feeling for her and not guilt or something similar.”
“I don’t even know if I’m going to make a move yet.” But he was. Hell, he’d already started. Every minute with her was laying the groundwork to something bigger. Just knowing she lived across town and was this close made him twitchy. He didn’t have Beck’s brains but Declan got that much. “Hell, she might not want me to make a move.”
“From the fire I saw snapping between you two, I’m thinking you doing something and her reciprocating is inevitable.”
That’s what Declan was starting to believe, too.
***
Leah stared at the huge, freestanding whiteboard. She had pictures and notes on each of the Hanover men taped to it, along with comments she’d written to make the necessary connections between them and the victims she’d interviewed or had her investigator talk to back when she had one of those.
Every inch of the board held a piece of information, and still she couldn’t put references to even twenty percent of Charlie’s known cons up there. But she could see it all. The wives. The children. The lies.
Setting it out like this made Charlie’s actions so clear. But it just muddied everything about the sons. Nothing tied them to their father’s crimes. It had been that way in the files and was confirmed when she tried this method. So much destruction and sadness, but it all linked to Charlie.
She’d hoped to find something. Maybe that one piece of information that triggered a memory or flicked on a light. At the very least, she needed a single nibble to use in her meeting with Declan. A fact she could wave around and convince him to leave and take his brothers with him. She needed that not just to get the house back, but to remove Declan from the county before she lost her mind.
She’d spent hours last night thinking about kissing him. Remembering the ease with which he stepped in and pumped her gas. It was something so unimportant yet it stuck in her head. Not controlling, not jerky, just kind of . . . sweet.
She let out a long groan. Man, he could not be sweet. The combination of sweet and sexy would crack the last of her control. She needed to be strong and professional. To set ground rules and then follow them.
Mostly, she needed to win this round or she risked losing everything.
Chapter Six
“What did you just say?” Beck’s head shot up as he poured his coffee the next morning.
The reaction said it all. It’s not like Declan didn’t know meeting with Leah again was a mistake. He’d spent a restless night thinking about her and not wanting to. He finally got out of bed just after five, half ticked off that he imagined what she looked like under her brightly colored shirts every time he closed his eyes.
But he had bigger problems at the moment. Like a potential run to the hospital for a second degree burn. He nodded at the pot in Beck’s hand and the coffee filled right to the rim. “Want to watch what you’re doing there?”
Beck jumped as the coffee sloshed over the side. “Shit.”
“Exactly.”
He slammed the pot on the square kitchen island hard enough to shatter the glass. It was a miracle the thing stayed in one piece. With his palms braced against the wood block, Beck eyed Declan where he sat on the stool on the other side. “Repeat your comment about the Baron woman.”
No thanks. “Leah and it doesn’t matter.”
“You brought it up.” Beck stood up again. “So, start at the beginning and explain exactly when you lost your mind. It will make the paperwork easier for when I put you away, and right now that’s tempting.”
Since Beck had slipped into interrogator lawyer mode, Declan gave up on changing the topic. “I said I have a meeting with Leah tonight.”
“A date, like we talked about last night?”
“No, this is business.”
“But you knew about this last night when we talked.”
Declan wanted to ignore that part, so he did. “We’re getting off track. This is a meeting, not a date.”
“For God’s sake, why?”
Declan turned his phone end over end, tapping it against the wood. “Pure male idiocy, as far as I can tell.”
“I’m saying it’s a date.”
“I don’t care what you call it.”
“Just so I know, do you always get a hard-on for women who hate you?” Beck snapped the towel off the faucet behind him and switched to clean-up, wiping up the spill and dropping the dirty towel in a ball on the edge of the island in one continuous move. “Because there’s probably medication for that.”
Other than a good kick in the ass as a reminder to stay away from Leah, Declan didn’t know what he needed. “She wants us to make an offer to buy us out.”
“Since when?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Interesting how you forgot to mention that–all of this, actually–yesterday.”
“I was still thinking it through.” Not a total lie, in Declan’s view.
“Uh-huh. Did she give you a number?”
“Not yet.”
“Is that what you two were talking about the other night in the yard, or was this during some other meeting I don’t know about?” Beck picked up his mug and stared at Declan over the rim.
The punch of surprise had Declan juggling the phone until it bounced off his palm and clanked against the counter. “Whoa.”
“Smooth.”
“You saw that talk?” He had to swallow twice to get the words out.
Beck leaned against the farmhouse sink. “And the stupid grin on your face when you came back inside. I thought about asking for details then decided I didn’t want to know. Wanted to see if you’d tell me, which you didn’t. Nice brotherly trust there, by the way.”
Declan pushed the cell away to keep from spinning it again. Last thing he needed was a broken phone. “I told her we weren’t interested in a buyout—”
“Have we established that?”
“—but I wanted to hear her out. She might make an offer we can’t refuse.”
“Like letting you sleep with her while we negotiate?”
Damn, his baby brother didn’t mince his words, something that started long before law school. Growing up he’d been the first one to jump in and steer everyone toward the answer he wanted. Still, a little tact wouldn’t be a bad thing.
“She doesn’t strike me as the sex-for-property type.” And Declan refused to think about how tempting the idea was and what a dick it made him to even consider the possibility.
“Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But I . . .”
A clicking sound filled the kitchen right before the knob turned and the back door to Beck’s right swung open. A young woman walked in, carrying a bucket and humming. If she wandered into the wrong house, she hid the mistake well. Didn’t even scream. She was too busy acting like she belonged there.
Petite with long wavy brown-closing-in-on-black hair and the biggest eyes he’d ever seen. They were the color of whiskey and highl
ighted her pretty face. And her slim jeans weren’t doing anything to cover her shape.
Beck put his mug on the edge of the island and knocked it over, ignoring the liquid as it raced across the counter and dribbled onto the floor. Declan would have laughed at his brother’s uncharacteristic fumbling if he knew what the hell was going on with the women in this town. They all looked good and they all trespassed.
Until Declan figured out what their newest unwanted guest wanted, ribbing Beck would have to wait. But the poor guy did look like he’d been hit head-on by a bus. A hot, sexy brunette bus.
Declan finally found his voice. He didn’t even try to hide the surprise running through him at the way she walked right in, and the key in her hand. “Uh, hello?”
She shot them a huge smile. “Good morning.”
Not exactly the greeting he expected. “And you are?”
“The housekeeper.”
“What?” That’s all Beck got out before he returned to staring. A stare that did a bit more roaming than it should have under the circumstances.
She dumped the bucket on the floor and held out her hand. “Sophie Clarke.”
“Declan and Beck Hanover.” Declan pointed out who was who before giving her hand a quick shake.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“We’ve heard nothing about you.” Beck shook his head. When he glanced at Declan again, some of the haze over his blue eyes had cleared. “Did you know about this?”
“No clue.” And that wasn’t an exaggeration.
Declan was at a loss. Leah’s anger, he got. Beck’s skepticism about keeping the place, Declan understood. Seeing a twenty-something woman walk into his kitchen like her name was on the deed had him stuttering.
She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Is there a problem?”
“You mean other than not knowing who you are or what you’re really doing here?” When Beck frowned, Declan tried his delivery again but with a calmer tone this town. “Sophie, is it?”
“Yes.” She answered but her attention sure wasn’t on him. All her focus was on Beck and the brown puddle inching toward him. She pointed at the kitchen towel. “You might want to—”
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