Pretty Woman

by Fern Michaels

  Green pull-down shades adorned the plate-glass windows to ward off the brutal Savannah sun. A bell tinkled over the glass door, which also had a green shade on it. Gold lettering on the door said it was the offices of Wiley and Wiley. Kent doubted there were two Wileys. It was probably meant to sound impressive. Two attorneys for the price of one. Senior and Junior. Wisdom and chutzpah. Hopefully.

  A young girl with a peaches-and-cream complexion and natural blond hair looked up from the computer she was working on. “Can I help you, sir?”

  Kent smiled his winning smile, the smile that he liked to think made women drop at his feet. The girl responded to his smile with one of her own. Jailbait?

  “I don’t have an appointment. I stopped in on the off chance one of the Wileys could see me. I can make an appointment now or come back later if this isn’t a convenient time.” He looked around the empty office to make his point. The girl smiled again, revealing a marvelous set of teeth.

  “It’s really slow in the summer. I think Mr. Steve can see you. Now if this was September, you’d be standing in line outside. I’ll just be a minute. Take a seat.”

  The office was shabby but clean. The magazines were current, the paper, today’s edition. The plants looked healthy and vibrant. Kent was surprised at how comfortable the chairs were. He leaned back and closed his eyes as he wondered how old the young girl was. He thought she was young enough to be impressed with the Buick and his age.

  He looked up when she said, “Mr. Steve can see you now.”

  Kent winked as he let his eyes rake over her supple figure. She was wearing a white halter top that showed off her tan. He wondered what her name was. He asked when she winked back. “Candice,” she said. “You can call me Candy.”

  Kent couldn’t resist. “You must drive those college boys out of their mind.” He winked again.

  “I had a conquest or two before I graduated.” She laughed.

  Hot damn. No jailbait here. If someone had mentioned the name Heather Daniels at that moment, Kent would have said, “Heather who?”

  Heidi Anders was right. Steve Wiley even looked like a sleaze in his polyester suit, greasy hair, and ankle-high boots. He was skinny, almost gaunt-looking, but his dark eyes were speculative and wary when he held out a hand that was clammy with sweat even though it was ice-cold in his office.

  “Kent Bliss,” Kent announced, crushing the man’s bony hand. He was pleased to see that the attorney didn’t flinch.

  “Steve Wiley. Have a seat. Would you like a cold drink or some coffee?”

  Kent shook his head as he sat down in one of the chairs facing the lawyer. He pulled out the divorce papers that had been served on him earlier and handed them over.

  Wiley pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He perched them on the end of his nose to skim through the papers. “Okay, what’s your side?” He leaned back in his high-backed red leather desk chair, steepled his bony fingers, and looked at Kent over the rims of his reading glasses.

  “Okay, here’s my story. I stepped into a good thing, and I screwed it up. I didn’t love my wife. She said she loved me, but I think she was in love with the idea of love, and I sure as hell didn’t measure up to the white knight she imagined she married. I’m not denying that. She got me accustomed to a very nice lifestyle, the country club, charge cards, Rolex, Porsche, the whole nine yards. Then she yanked it away from me because I forgot our anniversary. She booted my ass out at ten-thirty at night. I have an efficiency at the Days Inn. She cut everything off. I’ve been living on my wits, existing on fast food and working my ass off to get some cash.

  “Look, my wife is no beauty. I’m a guy who likes a good-looking woman with a nice figure on my arm. Rosalie is fat and plain. She’s a nice person, but she just isn’t my type. We have nothing in common. She simply can’t turn me on even if I close my eyes. Do you see where I’m coming from here?”

  “Yes. You want to have your cake and eat it, too. Did you contribute to the household bills? Did you have joint accounts? Who paid the bills?”

  “We had a joint checking account. My wife is well-off. She was very generous while we were together. I’m not denying that either. She had her life, and I had mine. And, before you can ask me, yes, I had lots of affairs. I don’t know if she did or not. I think she’s seeing someone now, but I’m not sure. I want alimony. If she hadn’t gotten me used to a rich lifestyle, I wouldn’t be in this mess now. By the way, I sell real estate.”

  “Did you contribute to the household? What happened to your paycheck?”

  “I kept it and spent it. Rosalie never asked for a penny from me.” Kent squirmed in his chair. “I know how this all sounds. If you want to call me a gigolo, go ahead.”

  “What about gas for your car? Who paid for that?”

  Kent shrugged. “I used a credit card. At the country club, I just signed for everything.”

  “Did you ever pay evenone bill? Think.”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever give your wife money?”

  Kent had the good sense to look embarrassed. “No.”

  “And you want alimony?”

  The disbelief in the lawyer’s voice stunned Kent. This guy was supposed to be a scumbag. He was acting like areal lawyer. “Look, Mr. Wiley, Rosalie asked me to marry her. Not the other way around. She made it all so tempting it was hard to say no. Of course she’s going to deny that, but I can’t help it,” Kent lied. “No guy worth his salt would turn down the perks she was offering.”

  “Did you sleep together? Did you have sex?”

  “A few times. Each time it was a disaster. She just turned me off. Her thighs rubbed together and she had this…this…odor. No matter what she did, she always smelled like paint and turpentine.” It was all lies, but who cared at this point? This was a man he was talking to, a man who would understand.

  Wiley jotted notes on a legal pad. “Did the two of you acquire anything together during the marriage?”

  “No. Rosalie had her business already when we were married. It wasn’t as lucrative as it is now. The house was left to her by her parents when they died. It’s worth a fortune because it’s a historic house. The business is incorporated. If I wanted money, I just wrote a check. Sometimes it was a long dry period between commission checks. She was agreeable and never said a word. She never asked for anything. Not a penny. If I’d had money to spare, I would have given it to her had she asked.”Another lie. So what. This guy’s eating it up like candy.

  “So you were a kept man.”

  “So what if I was? She was the one doing the keeping. It was all her idea. Now she probably found someone more to her liking, and she booted me out. Listen, there’s more.” Kent took a deep breath and told the attorney about the lottery ticket. “I’m telling you, she won it. I know her. I saw it on her face. The kid at the gas station is sure of it. You can talk to him if you don’t believe me. She booted me out the night of the lottery drawing. She has a whole year to claim it. If you listen to the news, then you know no one has come forward to claim the money. The ticket was sold the afternoon of the drawing at the gas station where my wife buys gas. The kid who works there, his name is Bobby, will verify everything I just told you. She’s got that winning ticket. I want my half.”

  Wiley bounced forward. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Of course I’m sure. Rosalie is sneaky. You wait, she’s going to have the housekeeper or the best friend say they won it. She trusts them. She doesn’t want to give me my half. By law, she would have to split it.”

  Kent swore he saw dollar signs flashing in the attorney’s eyes. “How can you be so sure, Mr. Bliss?”

  “Call me Kent. I’m sure because of the kid Bobby, who pumps gas. He told me he asked my wife the day of the drawing if she’d bought a ticket, and she said no. He offered to get her one because the line was around the block. She gave him one set of numbers, and said the machine could pick the other four. Five tickets, five dollars. The kid said he told her, ‘You’re n
ever going to win because you picked all low numbers. Single-digit numbers.’ She laughed and said it didn’t matter because she wasn’t going to win anyway. She also promised him if she did win, he would never have to pump gas again, and she would pay his way through medical school. The kid was really bummed when she didn’t come forward.

  “Rosalie showed me the tickets, all five of them. But, there wasn’t one ticket with all single-digit numbers on it. Not one. I just don’t see the kid making a mistake like that. He was certain. Look, talk to him yourself and just remember, no one has claimed the money.”

  Wiley scribbled furiously. Kent thought he had an itch the way he was wiggling and squirming in his chair. “This is all very interesting,” the lawyer muttered.

  “If we can prove it, what would be your cut?” Kent asked bluntly.

  “We need to talk about that, Mr. Bliss. I won’t be billing you by the hour, that’s for sure. How does 15 percent sound, Mr. Bliss?”

  “Fifteen percent sounds just fine, Mr. Wiley. Now, how can we force Rosalie’s hand?”

  “I’m not sure. I need some time to think about it. I know someone who works for the lottery commission. I’ll make some inquiries. In the meantime, keep this close to your chest. You haven’t told anyone have you?”

  “Other than Rosalie, no. She knows I suspect she’s holding the winning ticket. Hell, I outright accused her. She can be as stubborn as a mule. The kid might be the clincher. She did make a promise to him, a costly promise. She’d be embarrassed and ashamed if he and his family confronted her. If it hit the newspapers, she wouldn’t like that.”

  Wiley played with his Mont Blanc pen, doodling on the yellow pad as he stared across at his new favorite client. “I’m just thinking aloud here. Maybe there’s a way to get the printout of the numbers from that particular lottery machine. Of course, I will want to talk to the boy and his family, too. This needs a lot of careful thought. If we act in haste, we might jeopardize your position. Give me some time to think about all this. I’d like to see you back here one week from today. My retainer is five thousand dollars.”

  “Do you take cash?”

  “Of course,” Wiley said suavely. “I thought you said you were destitute.”

  “I am. I borrowed money from a friend. I’ll leave my card with you.” He scribbled off the number of the Days Inn and his apartment number. “If you don’t reach me, leave a message, and I’ll return your call. I can see myself out. You just stay here and start thinking.”

  In the reception area, Kent pulled the envelope out of the inside pocket of his jacket and counted out five thousand in hundred-dollar bills. Candy stared, wide-eyed at the money. “I need a receipt, and I need an appointment for the same time a week from today. I don’t need an appointment card. I’ll remember.”

  Candy nodded as she scheduled the appointment. “Of course. I do hope everything went well,”

  “Just swell, honey. Wanna have a drink?”

  “I can’t right now. I get off at five. I’d be happy to join you then.”

  “Why don’t we meet at say, five-thirty in the lounge of the Hilton?”

  Candy nodded agreeably as she handed over the receipt with a flourish. “Ah, your name is Wiley, too, I see,” Kent said, pointing at a name plate on her desk.

  “Steve’s my uncle. Actually, I’m his paralegal, secretary, gopher, niece, and chauffeur.” Kent laughed.

  Nothing like keeping it in the family.“See ya.” Kent winked at her before he left.

  10

  Kent Bliss whipped out his brand-new cell phone, courtesy of Heather Daniels. It’s a family plan, she’d cooed. Heather was doing everything in her power these days to make him happy. The cell phone made himreally happy. He felt like he was back among the living again.

  Just then his world was right side up. But things could change in five minutes. He was juggling too many things and not getting enough sleep. Prowling around outside Rosalie’s house late at night, trying to figure out a way to get inside to look for the Wonderball ticket, then worrying about covering his tracks with Heather, who was becoming much too demanding, made for a short temper.

  The lawyer he’d hired was so scummy that Kent was having second thoughts. Still, whatever he’d told him was confidential. According to Steven Wiley, the lottery commission was ticklish about giving out information. Of course, he’d said, if one wanted to pay for such information, it was available to the tune of ten thousand dollars. There was no way he could put his hands on ten thousand dollars, and the lawyer wasn’t about to advance it. Maybe he didn’t have a good case after all. He needed to think about that a little more.

  The upcoming Labor Day weekend was perfect for a little breaking and entering, with Vickie and Luna Mae leaving Rosalie alone. He couldn’t believe his luck when, hiding in the bushes last night, he’d overheard his wife and Luna Mae talking on the upstairs verandah. For one heart-stopping moment, the dog had gone wild, almost jumping off the verandah until Rosalie calmed him down and turned on the floodlights. He’d gotten out of there, quicker than a rat the minute the lights illuminated the area. It was okay, he finally had some information he could act on.

  Rosalie ran in the mornings for an hour. At night, she walked the dog. Whoever would have thought Rosalie would get a dog. He felt pleased that she felt the need for a dog as protection against him.

  Kent yanked the Rolodex closer to him. Some men had little black books; he had an entire Rolodex of his conquests. He flipped through the little cards until he found the H’s. Hillary was her name. He dialed the number and, his pencil tapping on the smooth surface of the desk, waited for someone on the other end of the line to pick up.

  He thought he recognized Hillary’s voice, but his greeting was cautious just the same. “Hillary?”

  “Yes.”

  “Kent Bliss. How are you, Hillary?”

  “You scoundrel. It’s been three years! Where have you been, sweetie?”

  “Trying to stay out of trouble. I didn’t want to make problems for you once I heard you called off your divorce proceedings. Did you ever go through with it, or are you and what’s-his-name back together?”

  “In the end, sweetie, we decided to stay together. I had too much on him, and he didn’t want to part with what he knew my lawyer would find. Once he knew that we knew about all the money he had stashed in the Caymans, he saw the light of day. We lead separate lives. Bring me up-to-date, sweetie.”

  “Separate lives, eh? The only way to go. My wife and I went through exactly the same thing. Listen, how about meeting me for a drink. I’m free right now, how about you?”

  “Best offer I’ve had all day. Where?”

  He was flush at the moment. That meant he could pay for some fancy drinks and keep up appearances. “How about the Hyatt Regency in, say, twenty minutes?”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  Kent hung up the phone. He wished he could remember what Hillary looked like. She’d been older, that was all he could remember. Rich and older. The best kind because they werevery generous. Hillary’s husband owned a string of very profitable high-tech surveillance companies. Globally. Hillary said his net worth at one time was in the hundreds of millions of dollars. She’d also told him that half of their ten-thousand-square-foot mansion had one of everything he carried in his firm. All Kent needed was one little gizmo, and he was home free.Damn, I wish I could remember what Hillary looks like.

  Seventeen minutes later, Kent strode through the Hyatt lobby like a permanent resident. He headed straight for the Mariner’s Bar, where it was dim and dark. Perfect for late-afternoon drinks. He settled himself in a burgundy leather-backed booth and immediately ordered a Stinger. He gulped at it. Something told him he was going to need a glow on to handle Hillary. He wondered what her last name was. It rhymed with flower, that was all he could remember. Lowry, that was it.

  He was draining his glass when Hillary Lowry approached the booth. He got up immediately and kissed her cheek. He wanted to sigh with re
lief. She was tall, willowy actually. And she’d had a magnificent face-lift. Breasts looked to be high and firm. More surgery. But the hands were a dead giveaway. They said she was fifty if she was a day. It didn’t matter how many rings and bracelets she wore.

  He could handle it.

  “You’re lookin’ wonderful, honey,” Hillary purred. She oozed into the booth and stretched like a contented feline.

  Kent’s eyes lit up. Now he remembered everything there was to remember about Hillary. “You’re looking pretty good yourself, Hillary.” It wasn’t a lie. He hoped she could see the admiration in his eyes. The truth was, she looked hungry. For him. They were all hungry for him. He was glad now he’d turned his cell phone off. What he didn’t need right now was for Heather to call him.

  Kent signaled the waiter and ordered a double scotch on the rocks for Hillary and another Stinger for himself. They made small talk, laced with sexual innuendos. He needed to get into her house. “So, where isMr. Lowry these days?” He let his hand trace the hard length of her thigh. She still worked out. That was good. She’d been a hell of an acrobat three years ago.

  “Right now,Mr. Lowry is in South America. For all I know they might be heading up some uprising or something. He just hops on planes and goes wherever the action is. It makes him feel important. All those high-tech toys you boys like to play with. My section of the house is…secure.That was part of our settlement terms. I don’t like to brag, but my attorney, who, by the way, is the best in the business, got me exactly what I wanted. Of course I didn’t get the divorce, but that’s okay, too. A ninety-million-dollar nest egg is nothing to object to.”

  Good-bye, Heather. You can have your Buick and your cell phone.

  “I can’t tell you how impressed I am, Hillary.” Then he said the words that made her eyes light up. “And you deserve every penny of it. Your husband should be drawn and quartered for the way he treated you.”