Front Page Affair

by Jennifer Morey

  They gazed at each other, a timeless thing that had nothing to do with the topic. He sensed her responding, too. Whatever had unsettled her was gone, resolved. Whether she knew it or not.

  She sighed and her eyes grew sultry. Then she got up from the swing and moved in front of his. Grasping the chains on each side of his head, she leaned over him, blue eyes more than meeting his challenge of seducing her. She was taking control of it. He found it intoxicating. Proof that he hadn’t been wrong. He could have her. Satisfy her.

  As though interpreting his thoughts, she straddled him, slipping one, then the other of her long, slender legs on each side of his inside the swing. Her boldness was different than any other woman he’d been with. Some he’d been with took initiative, but Arizona had a way about her. It was in her eyes. In the way she moved.

  She proved it when she put her hands on each side of his face and kissed him. He swung them a little, beginning to wonder if his thinking was all wrong. His divorce was still fresh, but this felt so right.

  “You’re ruining my seduction ploy,” he said, a way of diverting his thoughts.

  “We started out fine before, too.”

  Bold, brash. Sexy. And disturbing. He’d felt right with the first two women he’d married.

  Arizona kissed him again, her eyes still glowing in the darkness.

  To hell with it.

  Moving one hand to the back of her head, he deepened the kiss. She reciprocated in the sweetest way. Running his hands up from his hold on her waist and lower back, he stopped their swinging and cupped her breasts.

  She broke free of his mouth and gripped the chain ropes of the swing, watching his hands over the silky material of her dress. There was no easy access to her bare skin.

  Holding her rear, he stood from the swing and carried her toward the house. Inside, he continued on, with her wrapped around him, kissing his mouth. It stirred his blood but didn’t deter him from his purpose. Taking her to bed was a temptation he could barely deny, but he wanted her so hot for him that her fire couldn’t be doused.

  At the library door, he entered and set her down just inside. She kept kissing him. He kissed her back, taking over and delving deeper, teasing her.

  Then he stopped. “Don’t stay up too late.”

  Startled, she only stared at him at first. “What?” She glanced around, dawning coming slowly.

  Then she zeroed in on him. “You...”

  “You won’t be able to resist me next time.” He pecked her lips once more and, grinning, turned and left her standing there.

  * * *

  She couldn’t believe he’d done it. Arizona finished getting ready and left her room. Since waking up this morning she’d berated herself for starting anything with Braden. She couldn’t even blame him for leaving her cold in the library. What had possessed her to climb on top of him?

  Him, of course. She couldn’t resist him. But as soon as he’d teased her and the ramifications of what she’d done had sunk in, she’d felt empty. And thoughts of Trevor had begun. She hadn’t slept at all last night.

  Why she’d climbed on top of him was easy to answer. Like it or not, seeing him with her father had touched a warm place in her that hadn’t been touched in a long time. Her dad might be rich and famous, but he was just a dad to her. She’d grown up with his wisdom and practical discipline. He loved their mother, and she loved him. Never had there been a time when she’d thought of her family as a tabloid story. It wasn’t until she’d grown up that she’d begun to feel that way.

  Seeing Braden with her father had definitely altered something in her.

  That was the disturbing part. Because with that came the loss she’d suffered with Trevor. She’d felt exactly the same way with him. Trevor and her dad had gotten along well. Her dad had supported his proposal to his little girl.

  Morosely, she made her way down to the informal dining room. They rarely used the formal dining room here.

  This room was a reflection of her family. Full of color and spunk, there was a fully stocked bar, and framed posters of their favorite animated films lined the walls. Through a panel of windows and double glass doors was a balcony. The kitchen was open to the room, although most of the time they had a kitchen staff do all the work. Jackson Ivy liked to smell the food as it was being prepared, and he wanted to be able to see the culinary delights being created. Family was important to him, but the press never splattered that all over their rags.

  Talking and laughter was already filtering through the halls by the time she approached the dining area. She’d dragged on the time, dreading having to face Braden.

  Her mother’s boisterous laughter was the first thing to greet her as she entered, her father leaning down to kiss her briefly, his dark red hair always looking tousled with its natural curl. Lincoln sat with his leg on another chair. Her aunt sat at one end of the table, trying to keep her kids from whining about being hungry when the smells from the kitchen were so fantastic. A giant TV played a morning news show at a loud volume.

  Braden sat with Brandie, the two smiling along with Lincoln at whatever had made her mother laugh. Then Braden saw her and his smile changed. Faded? No, just changed. His eyes communicated intimacy before he caught it and nothing more could be seen in them. Aiden must still be sleeping. He’d had a big day yesterday.

  Jonas entered, patting her back once. “You guys sure are noisy. I heard you all the way up on the north side.”

  Riana passed him and Arizona. “He’s lying. I woke him up.”

  “When are you going to get a real job?” Brandie said from beside Braden.

  “I have one.”

  “You call that band a job? You don’t even have a record label.”

  “I will, and I’ll do it without Dad’s help. Unlike you.” He strode over to the snack bar where a platter of fruit and scones sat.

  Riana stood beside Arizona. “Dad helped her open her store and now she’s the black sheep among us.”

  “She must be doing something right because she’s making money.”

  “I’m not knocking it. She’s the only one who did it that way. I took out a loan for my business.”

  “Dad’s friend is going to read a sample of mine.” She wasn’t getting money from him but he’d called in a favor for her.

  “That’s not the same. You’re doing all the work yourself.”

  “So is Brandie.”

  Everyone had an identity crisis in this family. She saw Riana register the same and then wander off, going to the coffee carafes.

  Arizona moved closer to the table, feeling Braden watching her.

  The news program broke to a picture of Tatum. Last night, her father had told her a reporter had contacted him shortly after she and Braden had left American Freight, trying to get information about her relationship with Braden. He’d waited for a moment when Braden wasn’t beside her. He hadn’t given the reporter an inch. While her father couldn’t avoid the press, he never threw her to them, either. He had, however contacted Michael Benson to let him know what Arizona was doing and the attention it had attracted. Benson had been enthusiastic about an exclusive once Tatum was found. That was part of the reason she couldn’t sleep last night. Doing the article excited her, but she couldn’t ignore the way Braden felt about it. That had led to thoughts of his son. Which was more important to her? The story or Braden and his son?

  Tatum was already in the news, just as Arizona had predicted. This was the moment she’d been waiting for, the moment when she’d be free to do her story without turning Braden against her. But it still felt wrong.

  Braden stared at the TV screen as a reporter interviewed Sophie Reynolds, the woman who’d led Braden to the letter from Tatum.

  “It didn’t dawn on me who Braden was with until after he left with her,” Sophie said.

  �
�What was she doing with him?” the reporter asked.

  “I don’t know. Helping him, it looked like. Or maybe they’re seeing each other.”

  Braden’s cold eyes slid to her.

  He couldn’t possibly blame her for Sophie talking to the press. After several potent seconds, he stood up and walked toward the exit of the dining room, brushing past her without a word.

  She went after him, her family uncharacteristically silent. In the front entry, she found him at their bags. The servants had brought them down for them.

  Lifting his, he faced her. “If Aiden is safe here, so are you.”

  She stopped. “What?”

  “You don’t have to go with me.” He lifted his eyes to take in the grandeur. “You never did.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “What for? A story?” He shook his head. “I told you, no story.”

  “And I told you, it would get into the news anyway.”

  “Only because I was a fool and let you go along. I should have known your father would protect you.”

  “What about Aiden?” She didn’t mean to throw that in his face, but he wasn’t being fair. “If I hadn’t been involved, what then?”

  Anger stormed his eyes and he lifted his luggage.

  She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. “It isn’t my fault Sophie talked.”

  “It isn’t that, Arizona. The media is on to you now. They’ll follow us.”

  “No. We can get to Tortola without them knowing. My father can help us.”

  “I can do that without you.”

  “I want to help.”

  He walked to the door.

  “Braden...I need this.” The outburst came from deep inside her. It was a raw need. Something she hadn’t confronted until now. Trevor’s death was the cause, and she was afraid helping Braden would heal her. Just as Lincoln had said. It had never been just the story, but what motivated her went much deeper than she’d allowed herself to acknowledge.

  Tears bloomed in her eyes.

  She’d helped victims before, but nothing compared to this. Tatum was missing, possibly kidnapped or murdered. Arizona clung to the hope that she was alive. She clung to the hope that she could help Braden save her. And if they couldn’t save her, would Arizona ever be able to let go of Trevor?

  Lincoln put his arm around her, propped on one crutch. Only then did she notice he’d joined them, along with everyone else except her aunt and the kids. Her parents stood behind Lincoln, her mother’s hand on her dad’s arm, anxious with concern, her dad a silent observer. Brandie and Raina were behind them, in the interior doorway of the entry, both in dresses, Raina leaning against the door frame, Brandie with her arms folded, curious as any sister would be over the drama taking place.

  “What about the story, Arizona?” Braden asked.

  It was an exclusive. It could change her life. And it had nothing to do with Trevor. Did it?

  “You don’t have to be different from Dad, A,” Lincoln said.

  He’d always been on Braden’s side. And it wasn’t the first time he’d harangued her. But what if Trevor was playing a role in her decisions? Lincoln said she jumped in to help victims because of that tragedy. And he thought she went on adventures to blot out the pain.

  “You have changed,” her dad said, moving to Lincoln’s side. “What’s wrong with being like me? When did you start thinking you needed to be different? If I didn’t know better—” he glanced at Lincoln “—thanks to your brother who loves you very much, I’d wonder if you weren’t proud to be an Ivy, that you’d rather be part of another family. Is that what you want?”

  Contrition twisted her core into melting humility. Her father could be hard-hitting and this time was no exception. He’d arrowed straight to the truth and hadn’t spared her feelings. “No.”

  A memory of how the press had found her even though her father had done everything he could to protect her, that first time was burned in her mind forever. The crazed look in the reporter’s eyes. He’d do anything for a story. He hadn’t cared about her.

  She looked at Braden, appalled that she’d even considered doing that to him.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured, dropping his luggage and coming to her. He took her hand and pulled her from Lincoln’s arms and into his. “I’ll take you to Tortola, and I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt.” He looked up and to Lincoln’s side at her father.

  Arizona didn’t see whether her father gave his nonverbal consent, she was too warm and reassured and comforted in Braden’s arms.

  Chapter 15

  True to Jackson Ivy’s word, he got them to Tortola undetected. Now they were on the way to see the maid who’d helped them escape Julian. Braden felt a definite shift in Arizona and he was having trouble reconciling how he felt about it. She’d crossed a milestone regarding her dead fiancé. What it meant for him, he was reluctant to entertain.

  “We have to find a way to get inside Julian’s house,” Arizona said, walking beside him along a street, reading a map and checking the address they’d found on the maid. She was in a pair of overall shorts, big jewelry and rhinestone-covered sandals, showing off those legs again.

  He forced his attention back to the task at hand. The last time they’d tried to get in Julian’s villa it hadn’t worked very well. But it was the only way they’d find out if Tatum was there. Getting in was the challenge. The maid had helped them before, maybe they could convince her to help them again. If she could look around for them. Check out the meeting room she’d mentioned...

  “Here.” Arizona stopped. “There it is.”

  A tiny, weathered bungalow sat close between others almost identical, but each painted different colors. They stepped up to the front door and knocked. There was no bell.

  No one answered. Braden knocked again, checking around the quiet neighborhood. No one drove by. No one was outside.

  “Maybe she’s at work,” Arizona said.

  Could be. But if she was there, they wouldn’t be able to get close enough to talk to her. He peered into the front window. It looked like a chair was tipped over in the kitchen.

  Instinct triggered his wariness. This didn’t feel right. What if she’d been seen meeting them at the café?

  He tried the knob. It was locked.

  “What are you doing?”

  Checking the neighborhood again, he left the dilapidated front porch and made his way to the back.

  Arizona trotted to catch up. “Braden.”

  He stopped short at the back door, which he saw was cracked open about an inch. Turning, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Stay out here.”

  She looked from the cracked-open door to his face and nodded, understanding what had him on high alert all of the sudden.

  Sliding the door open, He entered the kitchen and immediately covered his mouth and nose. It smelled awful in here. Lying on the floor in front of the stove was Patty Williams, and a pool of blood had dried beneath her.

  Remorse ran through him in a shockwave. She must have been murdered shortly after she’d met him and Arizona. And no one had missed her, least of all Julian.

  Taking out his phone, he called Crawford. He’d said he was going to question her. Had he been able to? He left the house, closing the door all the way.

  Arizona stood just outside, arms folded, eyes round with apprehension. “Is she dead?”

  “Crawford. It’s Braden McCrae,” he said into the phone, keeping his eyes on Arizona. “We just left Patty William’s house. She’s been murdered.”

  Arizona covered her mouth with her hand while Crawford’s silence revealed his surprise.

  “A few days ago, too. She was probably killed the same day she came to see Arizona and me.”

  “I’ve been trying to contact her. I sto
pped by her house and then went to see Julian. He told me she’d taken a few days off for vacation.”

  “And you didn’t think you needed to check to make sure he wasn’t lying?”

  “Mr. McCrae...”

  “Why didn’t you check inside her house?” It hadn’t taken Braden much to discover Patty murdered.

  “I rang her bell and knocked.”

  But hadn’t looked in the windows. He wasn’t trying very hard to solve Tatum and Courtney’s cases. He was deliberately lax.

  “She’s dead because she gave us proof that Tatum went to Julian’s villa,” Braden said. “Did you question him about the necklace?”

  “Of course I did. And he denied it. Did you expect him to tell the truth?”

  At his snapping tone, Braden teetered between believing him and not.

  “What about the hotel manager? He has to know something.”

  “If he does, he isn’t talking.”

  Braden had an idea on how to make him talk. “We’ll take the investigation from here.”

  “You’ll do nothing more than impede our efforts,” the detective answered. “You’re not a policeman, Mr. McCrae.”

  Was he glad about that? “I don’t need to be to find my sister.” And if she was dead, and Julian was responsible, he just might take it to a more dangerous level.

  He disconnected.

  “What are we going to do now?” Arizona asked, obviously ill over the realization that Patty was dead.

  Putting his hand on her back, he steered her away from the bungalow and then took her hand as they headed back toward town, ever watchful of anyone suspicious. With Patty gone, they had no one else to turn to.

  When they reached town, he saw the clerk from the hotel sitting on the patio of the café he and Arizona had frequented. When she saw them, she reached into her purse for some cash and dropped it on the table as she stood. Was she running or had she been waiting for them?

  “Is that...”

  Braden nodded. “Yes.”

  The clerk emerged from the café, looking one way and then the other before approaching them. She’d been waiting.