by Diana Miller
Lexie turned to see Ben striding toward them. His faded jeans were ripped at the knee, he was wearing an oil-stained Budweiser T-shirt and a Twins cap, and he still made her body heat. This rebellion thing was getting out of hand.
She glanced at her watch. It was four thirty-five, and he usually didn’t show up at Nevermore until just before sherry hour. Or just before one in the morning.
“I thought you were working,” she said.
“I came home at three thirty today. I was looking forward to spending time with you, but you weren’t around.” His voice vibrated with anger.
Lexie’s own temper spiked. He had no right to be angry when he hadn’t bothered mentioning he’d be coming home early, presumably to analyze what they knew. She narrowed her eyes behind her sunglasses. “Jeremy took me out on his friend’s powerboat.”
“Seth told me.”
Lexie gave Jeremy a warm smile. “Thanks for taking me.”
“My pleasure. Let me know what time you want to go out tomorrow.”
“She’s going sailing with me tomorrow.” Ben’s hands fisted at his sides.
“Is that what you want, Lexie?” Jeremy asked.
What she wanted was to get out of here without Ben slugging Jeremy, so she swallowed her own annoyance and nodded. “Maybe we can go out some other day.”
“Or not,” Ben said.
“I’ll see you later,” Jeremy said, and then he started up Nevermore’s front steps.
The instant Jeremy was inside the house, Lexie planted her hands on her hips and raised her chin. “I feel like I just witnessed a junior high pissing contest.” She kept her voice low, practically hissing out the words. “What’s the big deal if I went boating with Jeremy? It’s not like I’m really your girlfriend. And it was a good opportunity to find out whether he has a financial motive to murder your grandfather.”
“Olivia said his last couple of deals fell apart,” Ben said.
So she’d risked her life on the boat for nothing—that she’d ended up enjoying it was irrelevant. “You could have told me that.”
“I thought I did.”
“You didn’t, but Jeremy did. That doesn’t mean he’s in dire enough need of money to kill anyone. He said he’s got another deal about to close that will more than make up for those failures. His lifestyle certainly isn’t suffering.”
“How do you know that?”
From Ben’s dark look, he wouldn’t be happy to hear about Jeremy’s invitation to fly her to New York to check out his condo. “He just got back from a two-week vacation on the French Riviera.”
“So he claims,” Ben said. “Even if he’s telling the truth, it doesn’t prove he isn’t living on credit. Maybe he knew he didn’t have to worry about money because he’d already paid someone to knock off Grandfather.”
“You’re going to suspect Jeremy no matter what you find out,” Lexie said. “I don’t think—”
“Who the hell is that?” Ben asked, interrupting her. He was looking over her shoulder.
Lexie turned to see a white Cadillac pulling up behind her. “Oh, God.”
A plot twist this scene did not need.
“Who is it?” Ben asked again.
Before she could answer, J.P. got out of the car. He was dressed the same as when she’d met him, except today’s polo shirt was lime green.
“Nice to see you in person, Lexie,” J.P. said, walking toward her. “I figured I’d have to leave you a message. I was in the area and thought I’d stop by since I don’t have your cell phone number. Not that I couldn’t have got your number even if it’s unlisted, but I respect people’s privacy.”
“This is J.P. Jackson,” Lexie told Ben. “I told you I talked to him before. This is Ben.”
A muscle twitched in Ben’s clenched jaw. “What do you want?”
“Relax,” J.P. said, holding up both hands. “I’m here to thank you. I heard about what you both did last night to keep Dylan from ending up in jail and losing his share of his grandfather’s fortune. I also wanted to give you something.” He reached into his pocket, then handed Lexie a business card for J.P.’s Construction and Cement Work, located in Thunder Bay. A phone number was hand-written under the printed one. “That’s my cell phone. Like I told you, Lexie, I never forget a favor. If either of you ever needs my help, call. Anytime, day or night.”
“We appreciate that,” Lexie said.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep watching out for Dylan.”
“We will. Thank you.”
J.P. nodded, then turned to Ben. “You be good to this one. She’s a keeper.” He winked. “I hear she does a hell of a pole dance.”
“Did we just get a mafioso’s private number?” Ben asked when J.P. had gotten into his car and pulled away.
“I told you he’s just a Mafia wannabe. That’s probably why he keeps coming here himself—he figures being associated with Max Windsor will get the Mafia’s respect.”
“Or because Dylan owes him a hell of a lot,” Ben said. “Thank God we’re on his good side. I don’t want to find out firsthand what kind of cement work he does.”
Lexie looked at the card for a minute, and then shook her head. “A week ago I was a respectable Philadelphia lawyer handling mundane trust and estate cases. Now I’m apparently living someone else’s life.”
“I’ll bet you’re having a lot more fun.”
“It’s different.” To be honest, she was so far out of her comfort zone she wasn’t sure what she was feeling.
“You’re right that I’m biased against Jeremy,” Ben said. “It’s not just because we haven’t gotten along since junior high.” He let out a long breath. “Jeremy had an affair with my wife.”
“Cecilia told me.”
“That’s why I see him as the most likely to commit murder, I guess, because of what he did to me. That’s also why I got so upset when you went out with him, since he’ll think he’s stolen another woman away from me.” Ben looked down at the grass. “I know you’re not really my girlfriend, but my ego would appreciate it if you didn’t take up with Jeremy until we’ve gotten this resolved.”
Lexie’s eyes widened. She’d dismissed Ben’s issues with Jeremy over her as simple male competition. It had never occurred to her that his ego might also be involved, probably because he seemed supremely confident when it came to women. “I don’t plan on getting involved with Jeremy at any time,” she said. “He isn’t my type.”
“Your type isn’t handsome, rich, intelligent, and successful?”
“Usually, but something about Jeremy is a little too smooth,” she admitted. Spending the afternoon with him had clarified the reason he didn’t appeal to her. “My bullshit meter goes wild around him.”
“You have a bullshit meter?”
“Try practicing law without one.” Memory twisted her lips. “Although it occasionally malfunctions, since I didn’t have a clue my ex was cheating on me.” If Ben trusted her enough to share his insecurities, she could do the same. “The reason I hate massages? Because my surgeon husband left me for a twenty-three-year-old massage therapist. You know what it’s like for a lawyer to be left for a massage therapist? Not that I’m a snob, but a lot of people I know are,” she added quickly. “And Deidre’s twelve years younger than me and so perky and sweet I’m tempted to douse her with water to see if she melts.”
“Like the witch in The Wizard of Oz.”
“I was thinking more like a sugar cube, but the witch analogy works for me, too.”
“Divorce sucks.”
“You’ve got that right,” she said. “Look, you don’t have to take me sailing. I won’t go boating again with Jeremy.”
“Have you ever been sailing?”
She shook her head.
“Grandfather would never forgive me if I didn’t make sure you experienced it. He loves sailing as much as I do. I mean he loved sailing.” Ben grimaced. “I’m still having problems accepting he’s gone.”
“Do you have time to ana
lyze what we’ve learned about his murder now?”
He glanced at his watch. “Let’s do it after dinner. I know you’d hate to be late for sherry hour.”
# # #
They didn’t get around to it after dinner because mid-meal Ben was called into work to do an emergency car repair for the mayor, who was driving to Minneapolis for a conference the next morning.
As Lexie watched Ben leave, however, she realized she didn’t need his help. This was her decision—okay, it was technically the trustee’s, but First Trust would follow her advice. She ran upstairs and grabbed her notes, a fresh legal pad, and sat cross-legged on the bed.
Two hours later she was even more convinced they had absolutely nothing, not even clear evidence a murder had been committed, let alone who’d committed it. Everyone had a theoretical motive, but she couldn’t believe anyone would have been desperate enough to kill Max instead of approaching him for help. Everyone also could have hired a killer, if not done the deed personally, but she couldn’t believe anyone would have done either.
That’s why she was wrong for this investigation, because she couldn’t contemplate that anyone who wasn’t a complete monster would ever commit a murder. This case needed someone who had experience with seemingly nice people who’d been driven to do horrible things. She didn’t need to discuss this with Ben. Tomorrow she was going back to Philadelphia. And the trustee was hiring a P.I.
She booked an afternoon flight out of Duluth. Then she went to bed.
# # #
Lexie woke abruptly, opening her eyes in the total blackness, her heart hammering. It must have been a nightmare, one she couldn’t remember even though it must have scared her to death. She glanced at the clock: 11:47. She closed her eyes again.
“I’m counting on you to find out who killed me.”
Her blood turned to ice. “Who is it?” she asked, unnecessarily, since she knew that distinctive voice.
“You know who I am, Catherine. Just remember the money is the key. Because I really was murdered.”
She was finally alert enough to think to switch on the bedside lamp. For an instant she swore she saw Max Windsor standing across the room by the dresser, studying her.
But it couldn’t be. She blinked twice.
When she focused on the spot by the dresser again, it was empty.
CHAPTER 13
She’d been dreaming. That had to be it. Analyzing everything possibly relevant to identifying Max’s murderer—including the ghost appearance—had triggered a nightmare.
Except she was wide-awake now, and she was positive she’d been equally wide-awake when she’d seen Max and he’d spoken to her. But that was impossible. Max was dead, and despite what she’d suggested to Ben, she really didn’t believe in ghosts. So what had just happened?
Of course. She hopped out of bed, stormed to Ben’s room, and pounded on the door.
“What?” he asked from behind her. He was dressed in a black T-shirt, jeans, and Nikes. She caught a whiff of motor oil.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“I just got back from work. Why?”
“You know darn well why.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him into her bedroom, then shut the door. “I just saw Max, who assured me he was murdered. What do you know about that?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I told you yesterday that I don’t believe Max was murdered, and I’m thinking about leaving. Then tonight I coincidentally get a visit from Max. Or more likely, a holograph of Max that you created.”
“You honestly think I know how to create a holograph?”
“You’re good at mechanical things.”
“Like making a holograph is the same as fixing a transmission,” Ben said. “I’m flattered by your high opinion of my abilities, but anything like that is way beyond me. I think you were dreaming, and it was your subconscious talking. You feel guilty you’re considering running away without solving this thing.”
“I was awake, and I saw Max in my room,” Lexie said. “He told me he really was murdered and that the money is the key to who did it. The point obviously was to convince me to stick around and keep investigating your great-aunt and cousins, which is what you want me to do. Of course you were responsible.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” Ben said firmly. “You must have dreamed it. Or maybe it really was Grandfather.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m serious.” He held out his hands, palms up. “I’m willing to entertain the possibility you truly saw my grandfather. Maybe he somehow knows you’re getting frustrated and appeared to reassure you he was murdered so you’ll stick around. He could plan a return appearance with more information if we don’t figure it out ourselves. Grandfather was always big on pacing.”
“Or maybe he doesn’t know who killed him,” Lexie said. “Being dead might not make you omniscient.”
“Does this mean you believe he was murdered and plan to stay?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ll let you know in the morning.”
“I don’t think you should stay alone in here tonight,” Ben said.
“Why not? Even if it was Max’s ghost, he certainly doesn’t want to hurt me.”
“The murderer might have figured out your identity and set up a holograph to scare you back to Philadelphia.”
“By creating a holograph in which Max confirms he was murdered?” Lexie asked. “That would be pretty dumb.”
“I think I should stay with you,” Ben said. “Grandfather would never forgive me if I left you alone and something happened to you.”
“Your grandfather’s dead, for God’s sake. And nothing’s going to happen to me.”
Ben raked his fingers through his hair. “Of course nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“Then why are you pretending?”
“Because I don’t want to leave. Because you look so damn sexy in that T-shirt that I’m having a hell of a time keeping my hands off you. Because although it pisses me off, I really want to make love to you.”
Lexie stared at him as her stomach somersaulted.
Ben’s mouth twisted ruefully. “I’ll take that as a no. At least I have the satisfaction of managing to leave a lawyer speechless.” He turned and started out of the room.
Her brain told her hormones to cool it. Instead her body heated. “Although it annoys me more than you can imagine, I seem to feel the same way.”
He stopped. Then he turned and started back toward her, a corner of his mouth quirking. “Admit it. It more than annoys you. It pisses you off as much as it does me.”
“All right, it pisses me off,” Lexie said. “I don’t sleep with a guy unless we’re in a relationship. Which is never going to happen with us, even if I hadn’t sworn off relationships.”
“True,” Ben said. He reached out and fingered her loose hair. “I swore I’d never sleep with another smart professional like my ex-wife. But we’ve got a problem here. There’s a lot of sexual tension between us, and because we’re fighting it, we’re building it up in our minds.” His fingers moved from her hair to her neck, then slowly down the front of her T-shirt. “It’s probably interfering with our ability to find Grandfather’s murderer. If we’d just have sex once, we’d get it out of our systems and realize it wasn’t that big a deal.” He fondled her breast through the thin cotton. “Then we’ll be able to focus all our attention on the murder.”
“Sounds like a line to me,” Lexie said, trying to ignore the way her body quivered and softened under his touch. This was a bad idea on so many levels. “A creative one, I’ll admit, but I don’t fall for lines. Rule 79.” She said the words without one iota of conviction.
Ben moved toward her, and then kissed her. Between the heat and her hammering heart, she was breathless when he finally released her and barely got out the words. “To hell with Rule 79.”
He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound making her nerve endings sizzle
. Then he was kissing her again. The smooth pressure of his lips and tongue had her mind spinning until she couldn’t think, could only feel. His hands stroked her T-shirted back, and then he yanked the T-shirt over her head so she was naked except for her silk panties. He moved away for a moment, his eyes slowly raking over her body. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he said.
Insecurity reared its head, and Lexie covered her breasts with her arm. “I’m a lot older than your last girlfriend.” And than her husband’s new wife.
He moved her arm away. “You’re obviously like a fine wine that gets better with age.”
Her arm returned, and she rolled her eyes. “Another line, and a dumb one at that.”
Ben moved her arm away again, this time directing her hand to his straining erection. She could feel its hard heat through his jeans. “I obviously meant it. Looking at you must have drained my brain of all creativity.” He reached out and stroked her breasts.
If he was lying, so what? He still wanted her, and she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone. “That was better.”
His lips fastened on one of her breasts, sucking her nipple hard enough that she felt the sensation deep in her pelvis.
“Much better,” she murmured as he switched to her other breast. He reached down to her panties, but she pushed his hand away. “I’m not going to be nude while you’re fully clothed.”
His slow smile made her shiver. “We can take care of that.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head as she tried to unbuckle his belt. She’d barely started when he put his hands over hers. “I can do it faster.” In seconds he’d discarded his jeans and briefs.
“Now you’re the one who’s overdressed,” he said, pulling off her panties. They pooled at her feet, and she kicked them off.
He kept kissing her as he backed her up until she was against the bed, and then urged her down onto the smooth sheets. He moved on top of her and kissed the valley between her breasts. Then his tongue and lips began working their way down her body, down her chest, then her abdomen, then lower. He paused, his lips close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her. He lowered his mouth to kiss her, teasing her with his tongue as she arched and moaned on the bed. Then he closed his lips around her and sucked.
