Brady frowned. “Ma’am, this is a picture of a kitten.”
“What? Oh,” I said and flushed. “No, here. Let me just –” I tapped through to my text history with the ex-of-my-nightmares. “There.”
Officer Brady scanned through them and I spent the time taking mental stock of things that’d gone missing. Georgia had a point about that dress. I had to check he hadn’t taken it or I’d end up attending the art showing in jeans and a SpongeBob SquarePants t-shirt. Not a good look for an aspiring artist.
I hurried into my open plan bedroom and gasped.
“Everything okay in there?” the officer called.
“No. He took my underwear.”
Footsteps thundered across the boards. Officer Brady entered and grimaced at the open and empty dresser beside my queen-sized bed.
Jackson had taken everything. Thongs, lacy and cotton, bikini bottoms, everything. Even my old pair of grandma panties. What a creep. He’d always been somewhat of a question mark but I’d never imagined he was capable of something like this. It made my skin crawl.
A knock rattled my front door on the other side of the apartment.
“I’ll have to add this to the list,” Officer Brady muttered.
“Excuse me a sec.” I headed for the front, grinding my teeth every step of the way. What kind of sicko stole someone’s underwear? Just who had I been dating? I halted at the door and gathered myself, brushing off my blouse.
“Who’s there?” I called out.
“It’s Carter Jones.” His deep voice had a kind of chocolatey richness that brought on a serious case of the goosebumps.
“What?” I’d heard him, I just couldn’t believe it.
“Is this Miss Heath’s residence?”
“Yeah, just a sec.” I barely remembered what Carter looked like. I’d caught a glimpse of him on the night Jayne had met him at Bobino Club in Milano but I couldn’t remember the details. I’d already decided he had to be balding and middle-aged in a suit – the epitome of a billionaire.
I drew back the chain and opened the door. I promptly lost my breath. Carter Jones certainly wasn’t middle-aged. No, he was a little older than me, maybe twenty-eight years old? And he had a full head of chestnut brown hair. His bright green eyes crinkled at the corners, a forced smile on his lips. No suit in evidence either – white cotton t-shirt and faded jeans. Tall, much taller than me, but that was no mean feat, given I was only 5’4”.
“You’re Miss Heath?”
“Call me Veronica,” I said and licked my lips. I’d never been the man-crazy one in the family – Jayne had claimed that title as her own – but good God, this guy was gorgeous.
“Veronica.”
I shivered and rubbed my arms to pass it off as a reaction to the spring breeze. “That’s right. You’re Carter? My sister’s husband?”
“That’s correct. Sorry it’s taken so long to introduce myself properly,” he said and shifted the box in his arms, extending one hand around it.
I took the proffered shake and inhaled. Prickles danced across the back of my hand from that gentle touch.
Ridiculous. This was my sister’s husband. This man. My sister’s husband.
“That’s all right,” I said. “It’s kind of a bad time, right now, though.” I couldn’t exactly offer him coffee. Jackson had lifted the cups. A vision of my ex carting off pantie-filled mugs drifted up from my subconscious.
“I know,” Carter said.
“Wait, what? You know?’
“Yeah. I –”
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Officer Brady said, behind us. “Just how many thongs are missing, here? I need some kind of real indication so I can tally the total for your insurance company.”
“My underwear wasn’t insured,” I replied, and gave Carter my back just so he wouldn’t see how red I’d gone. As red as that lacy thong Jackson had stolen. “You don’t need to write that in your report.”
“Right,” Brady said and clicked his ballpoint. “And the bras?”
Hell, swallow me now, please. “No. Just the art supplies. That’s all, okay? The art supplies. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Brady wandered off again, scratching his temple with the ink-end of his pen and drawing himself a makeshift tattoo.
“I’m interrupting something,” Carter said.
I faced him again. “It’s all right. I’ve just had a break-in. Nothing serious.” I checked my watch. “But I do have a showing this evening.”
“You’re an artist,” Carter said and smiled.
“Yeah, didn’t Jayne tell you?” Of course, she hadn’t. I probably didn’t rank high on her desired list of topics, which probably included how good she looked and what to wear that evening.
“No. She didn’t,” Carter said.
“Yeah, it’s at the Clic Gallery. Gosh, it’s getting late.”
“I won’t take much more of your time,” Carter said. “It sounds like you’ve got a lot to deal with right now.” His lips twitched at the corners and another wave of humiliation rose, threatened to crash over me.
“What can I help you with, Carter?” I asked, craning my neck to get a good look at that strong jawline.
“I’ve come to drop off some of your sister’s stuff,” he replied.
“Oh. What? Why?” I asked.
“You don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“Jayne and I haven’t spoken in six months,” he said and handed me the box.
Chapter 2
Carter
I’d spent the last three weeks silently fuming over Jayne. And the past hour of throwing the crap she’d left at my house into a cardboard box had been the peak of my anger. I’d expected to rock up at her last known address, toss the box into her sister’s hands, then charge off again to see my lawyer about the divorce.
Except my rage had dissipated the minute Veronica had opened the door.
She was Jayne’s polar opposite. I hoped in personality, too.
Where Jayne was tall, long-limbed and raven-haired, Veronica was short, curvy and blonde. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence and her movements were quick and sure. No-nonsense.
I liked that in a woman. Shit, I liked that kind of attitude in anybody, probably because it reflected my own. The SpongeBob SquarePants shirt was hilarious, too.
Veronica juggled the box of crap around. “Oh. You haven’t heard from Jayne at all?”
“No,” I replied.
“I’m sorry about that.” She backed up a few steps. “Would you like to come inside? I don’t have any coffee mugs but I think I have a couple beers in the fridge.”
“I thought you had somewhere to be.”
“Not for another two hours. And I’ve got to figure out whether I can go or not. Nothing to wear.” She blushed that adorable shade of crimson and led the way into her apartment.
I walked in and avoided looking at the pictures on the walls, just in case Jayne peered out at me from one of them. When I’d first met her, she’d been wild and free. She’d seemed like the perfect match for me at the time. A woman who’d excite me, force me out of my comfort zone and business suits.
But she’d ruined that after the first year of vapid globe-trotting and a string of affairs with pool boys, chauffeurs, and bellboys.
I entered the living area and admired the view from the windows. Sunlight tickled the ivory white sofa and I took a seat, officially enticed. I’d been in every type of luxury situation from yachts to five-star hotels, but nothing beat a homey atmosphere.
“I think that’s all I need,” The officer said. “You be sure to file for that restraining order, Miss Heath.”
“Thanks, Officer,” she replied and placed the cardboard box on the coffee table.
“I’ll see myself out.” The man trooped off and the front door slammed a couple seconds later, plunging us into an uncomfortable silence.
“Ah,” Veronica said and clicked her fingers. “Beers.” She hurried to the refrigerator and jerked the door open
.
I admired her ass in spite of my situation, then stopped myself. This woman was my sister-in-law, and I’d pretty much sworn off relationships of any kind six months ago, when all the trouble had officially started. When it’d become clear Jayne had been out for my money and nothing else.
Veronica returned with two beers and we popped the caps together. I drank deeply from mine, the brew a deluge of welcome coolness in my throat.
“I’m really sorry things didn’t work out between you and Jayne,” she said.
“Are you?” I clinked the bottle onto a coaster. “Shit, that came out sarcastic. We barely know each other. I mean, I think I caught a glimpse of you once or twice but I remembered you differently.”
“I second that analysis,” she said. “I guess what I meant to say is I’m sorry you met Jayne in the first place. And I’m sorry I never got a chance to warn you about her. She’s my sister and I love her, kind of because I have to, but I wouldn’t hook her up with any of my friends.”
“Thanks,” I replied, and actually chuckled. “That’s what I needed to hear in a weird way.”
Veronica drank some more beer.
“I – uh, shit, I don’t mean to pry but what did that cop mean by a restraining order?”
“Oh,” she said and choked on the beer. A little squirted out of her nose and she grabbed for napkins that weren’t there. “Shoot.”
“Here,” I said and brought a handkerchief out of my pocket. “It’s clean.” I never used the damn thing, it was a habit I’d picked up from one of my mentors for occasions like these.
She took it and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, that was gross.” Veronica laughed. “Really stings. Anyway, I was going to say that I was robbed before I spewed beer like a fountain.”
“You were?” The place looked okay. No TV, but no space for one either. The couch was intact and the stereo in the corner.
“Yeah. It was my ex-boyfriend who did it. He took personal stuff and art supplies. A lot of expensive supplies.”
“And I thought I was bitter,” I said.
“Yeah, the irony of it all is he was the one who cheated and ruined the relationship. I’m the one who’s supposed to take revenge on him. Guess it doesn’t always work out that way. Or at all.” She swiped the last of the beer off her face and looked at the handkerchief. “I’ll clean it for you.”
“Keep it,” I said. “I’ve got plenty of them.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re rich,” she replied. Her eyes widened and she rammed her lips together. “Oh, my gosh, sorry. That’s so rude of me to say. It just popped out.”
I burst out laughing but I didn’t feel any of that mirth inside. Jayne had been obsessed, and still was for that matter, with my money. She’d spent plenty of it. She hadn’t made a dent in the bank account but she’d certainly tried and would continue doing so until I tracked her down wherever she was and got her to sign some divorce papers.
I’d never been prepared for this type of failure. For loving a woman and realizing that she didn’t love me back. It was the reason I’d avoided relationships for years – I didn’t want to end up like my father. Broke, old, and bitter.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, at last. I downed the last of the beer and placed the empty bottle on the table. “I’m sorry to hear about your troubles. Is this guy the clingy type?”
“I have no idea,” she replied. “I thought he was normal until he cleared out my underwear drawer. Your guess is as good as mine, right now.” She squinted at the clock on the wall. “Is that time right?”
I checked my watch. “No. That’s an hour behind. It’s 4 p.m. now.”
“Bastard,” she grunted. “He turned the clock back. I’ve got an hour to get dressed and get out of here.”
“Shit, I’ll get out of your way, then. Thanks for the drink.” I got up and brushed off my jeans. I lingered, on the brink of asking to see her again of all things. Not on a date, just to talk. Just to get to know her, when I didn’t really need to since I wanted to divorce her sister anyway.
“If you – uh, if you find any more of Jayne’s stuff feel free to send it over,” she said, hugging the beer bottle to her chest. “It was great to meet you.”
“And you,” I said and nodded. “I’ll let myself out. Good luck at your art showing tonight.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
I didn’t ask what she meant but I gathered it had something to do with her scumbag ex. I gave her a quick wave and nod, then made my way down the hall and past the hall table. The flyer atop it caught my gaze.
It was an advertisement for the art showing that night. Clics Gallery. I scanned it and made a note of the address, then opened Veronica’s front door and let myself out into the late afternoon.
It’d been a long time since I’d enjoyed anyone’s company, and certainly not a woman’s. My fascination with Jayne’s free spirit and carefree attitude had faded when I’d realized there wasn’t anything more to her than that.
But Veronica fascinated me. She was nice. Actually nice and down-to-earth and she said what she meant, judging by her little faux pas about my wealth. I needed a friend now. Or no, maybe talking to her would help me move on from this fuck up of a marriage, as selfish as that was.
Yeah, and the fact that she’s drop-dead gorgeous makes no never mind to you.
I brushed the thought aside and trooped down the stairs to the sidewalk below. Her apartment was above a bookstore, filled with hippie lookin’ folks sipping coffee from jars. I shook my head and continued down the street, hands tucked in my pockets.
I reached my Audi and unlocked it with the click of a button, Veronica still on my brain. Shit, this was dumb. She was my wife’s sister. She was off limits in every way. Even if I actually got the divorce finalized, it would still be weird.
And I wasn’t ready to trust again.
“Stop thinking about it, then,” I said and slipped into the front seat. The leather cushioned me and I rested my head, breathing easy for a minute.
What was the harm in checking out some art? I loved art. It was part of the reason I’d traveled to Italy over a year ago – to soak up the romance. My mother had ingrained that sense of creativity into me, possibly because she’d seen that I lacked flair in that department.
Yeah, a showing sounded like the perfect Friday night activity. It was better than sitting home lamenting a failed marriage and breaking open that fifty-year-old bottle of Scotch.
I grabbed my phone out of the glove box, then dialed Joseph’s number.
“Boss,” he said. “What’s up, boss man?”
He loved talking to me like that because I hated it. “Jo, I need you to organize a chauffeur for me this evening.”
“When and where, boss?”
“Cut it out,” I snapped, and instantly regretted it. I’d been short with everyone of late and Jo was my oldest and best employee. And friend. “Shit, sorry, man. I – uh, I need to get to Clics Gallery in about an hour and a half? Have the guy hang around afterward. They’ll probably be serving wine there.”
“You got it, boss man,” Jo said, unperturbed by my outburst.
“Thanks, Jo. And have a good weekend.”
“Every weekend is good when you work for a billionaire,” he replied, and signed off with a chuckle.
I put the phone on the passenger seat and thought this through. How would my sister-in-law take it if I turned up at the showing after meeting her a mere hour before? Would she be creeped out or think I’d just come to show my support?
Maybe if I had some real reason to be there it wouldn’t be weird.
Now you’re making excuses about it? Shit, you’re some other kind of jackass. I’d never doubted any of my decisions before. Quick thinking was the hallmark of my business style. Risk taking, too.
If I wanted to enjoy a little art then so be it. I started the Audi and ignored the nerves bubbling in my gut. Another first for Carter Jones, billionaire investor extraordinaire.
C
hapter 3
Veronica
“Look what I found,” I said and held up the heart locket. The same heart locket that I’d found in the box of stuff Carter had dropped off at my house not fifteen minutes ago. I’d given this to my sister years ago as a symbol of our sisterhood. When we’d lived together, Jayne had worn it every day.
We’d laughed and joked and for the first time in our lives we’d been sisters, friends even, instead of competitors for Mom and Dad’s affections.
“I don’t think it goes with the cocktail dress,” Georgia said and checked her manicure. “It’s cute and everything but –”
“G, this is the locket I gave Jayne two years ago.”
“Ugh,” Georgia replied and rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to sound like a bitch here but Jayne is a cow. She never cared about any of that sisterly stuff. Testament to the fact that she ditched you the minute she found someone who could provide for her.”
Jayne had always been selfish, sure, but I’d never viewed her as a money grabber. She’d paid her side of the rent when she’d lived with me. I’d never asked where the money had come from, but she’d paid it.
“What kind of a sister takes off for Europe with some dude she barely knows and leaves you behind to take care of everything here?”
“She calls sometimes,” I said and dropped the locket. Weird that it’d made me wistful about a person I’d pretty much dismissed after the last call-fight we’d had.
“Uh-huh, I bet those calls are great. Hey, Vee, I’m here in Italy living it up while you slum it in SoHo.” Georgia made her voice two tones higher.
“I don’t think it’s possible to slum it in SoHo,” I pointed out. I spun and checked my reflection in the mirror over my dressing table. Black, silky, and cut above the knee, it definitely wasn’t the look I was accustomed to.
“I don’t like the heels,” Georgia said, gesturing to my shoes. “You need something strappy. Have you got strappy?”
“No,” I said, and even if I did, we were out of time. “We’ve got to get to the gallery or I’ll miss my own showing.” God, fingers crossed someone actually bought a few pieces. If I didn’t sell something soon I’d have to get a job at Wendy’s to make rent and even that wouldn’t cover it.
Torn_An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 15
