by Julie Cohen
‘I’ve copied the will for each of you,’ he said, shifting from side to side on his tiny feet as he gave each of them a slim folder. ‘It’s not very complicated, it can be summed up quite quickly, and it will have to go through probate of course, especially with such a sizeable estate as Ms Drake’s, but I feel her wishes are very clear.’
He took a seat behind his great glossy desk and cleared his throat. ‘So, if you open your folders…’
Obediently, Zoe’s family opened the cardboard folders. Zoe stared at the cover of hers. It was blue. Besides the funeral plan, it was the last message her great-aunt had left for her.
She wasn’t in a hurry to read it.
Beside her, she heard Nick draw in a sharp breath. When she looked over she saw he’d opened his folder to the last page.
He held it out so she could see it, and pointed to the date on the bottom, underneath Xenia’s bold black signature. ‘April twenty-third,’ he said.
‘So?’
That wasn’t long ago. It was unsettling to think that her great-aunt might have had a premonition of her own mortality just a few days before she’d bailed on her board.
‘That’s the same day my father’s letter was postmarked.’
Zoe met Nick’s dark eyes with her own.
‘So,’ said Mr Feinberg, clearing his throat, ‘as I said, Ms Drake’s wishes are clear. You can skip the legal language, and turn to page two, where Ms Drake bequeaths the sum of ten thousand dollars to her nephew Michael Drake, and stipulates that additional sums of ten thousand dollars to be invested in bonds for each of her four great-great nieces and nephews already born, with directions for an additional fifty thousand dollars to be set aside for children not yet born, to be held until their eighteenth birthdays when the monies may be used for college tuition or whatever other purpose the recipient desires.’
Jade and Di murmured to each other. Zoe, cynically, knew what they were talking about. Ten thousand dollars a kid wasn’t bad, plus money for kids who hadn’t been born, but to Xenia a hundred thousand dollars couldn’t be more than a token amount. All of Xenia’s living relatives were here in this room, and none of them except for Zoe’s dad had received anything directly.
Zoe smiled. She just bet that Xenia had written her will in the way that would pique her relatives the most. Xenia had never shown any signs of wanting to please the rest of the Drake family, and Zoe was glad she was carrying it on in her will, too.
‘If you turn to page three,’ Mr Feinberg said, ‘you’ll see the main part of the will, where Ms Drake bequeaths all her remaining property, money, and concerns to her great-niece Zoe Drake.’
Zoe’s head snapped up. She stared at the lawyer.
He cleared his throat again. ‘It’s quite a substantial estate, Ms Drake. You’re named as the executor, as well, so we will need to go through the particulars together, and of course there’s probate to consider, but with property and investments and income it’s worth in the region of fifty million dollars.’
Zoe thought her family was probably talking, but she couldn’t hear anything because as soon as the lawyer’s words registered in her brain her ears filled with a rushing sound. Her entire body felt cold and hot at the same time. She stood and walked out of the office and through the waiting room.
The stairs were at the end of the corridor. She pushed open the fire door and into the concrete stairwell, taking the steps down two at a time. She watched her feet in her running shoes hitting each step precisely in the middle and concentrated on her knees flexing, her thigh muscles stretching and contracting. The metal railing was cold underneath her hand.
The office was on the twelfth floor. By the time Zoe got to the bottom of the staircase her legs were burning but her breath was still coming steady. She slammed the door open, strode across the lobby, and out into the street.
She wanted to sweat, to breathe hard, to feel right in her working body. She broke into a run as soon as she hit the sidewalk, doing her best to ignore how her skirt got in the way.
Two blocks down she felt a hand land on her shoulder. Zoe spun, her breathing finally sharp, her hands whipping up to defend herself.
It was Nick.
‘Zoe, are you all right?’
She saw his dark eyes frowning and full of concern, his hair in disarray from running. She noticed she still clutched the blue folder containing Xenia’s will in her right hand.
‘Me?’ she said. ‘I’m just dandy. Didn’t you hear the man? I’m a millionaire.’
She burst into tears.
CHAPTER FIVE
NICK PUT HIS arm around Zoe’s shoulders and steered her across the busy street and into Central Park. Maybe she could carry on a conversation in the middle of a sidewalk, but he couldn’t.
He was looking at the traffic and then looking for somewhere to sit down, but he could feel her body trembling under his arm. She didn’t make a single sound, not a sniff or a whimper. Just these silent sobs shaking her body. Nick found a patch of grass under a tree, as isolated as they were going to get, and gently sat her down.
She looked straight ahead, not at him, still crying. He’d seen plenty of women crying in his life and Zoe wasn’t like any of them. She didn’t screw up her face or hitch in hysterical breaths. Her generous mouth was turned down at the corners in unhappiness, and fat tears gathered in her eyes, spilled over, and rolled down her cheeks, leaving wet trails on her skin. The tears made her eyes look bigger and bluer. They clumped her eyelashes together, darkening them.
He reached over and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her skin was much softer than he’d expected.
‘It was a surprise, huh?’ he said.
‘That’s an understatement.’ Her voice was even lower and huskier than usual. She swiped at her eyes, but the tears kept coming.
Nick’s arm was still around her; he pulled her a little closer, as if he could protect her from her hurt with his body. She wasn’t exactly pliant in his arms, but he could feel both the strength of her body and the soft pressure of her breast against his side.
‘I’m sorry you lost your great-aunt,’ he said.
‘Why’d she leave her money to me?’ She turned her head to look him in the face.
‘Who else was she going to leave it to? You said she wasn’t close to the rest of your family.’
‘But why me? I barely knew her, too. She never even told me what she did for a living.’ She wiped her eyes again, smearing moisture over her cheeks and clumping her eyelashes. It wasn’t a delicate gesture, but it was a vulnerable one.
‘It doesn’t sound like she’d told anybody.’
‘It’s a lot of money, Nick. Really a lot. Why me?’
Nick tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear. Her hair was silky and nearly as warm as her skin. ‘Because she trusted you.’
‘But why?’ It came out as a wail, and Zoe bent her body to hide her face between her drawn-up knees. Her shoulders shook.
Nick stroked her back as she cried. She was wearing her horrible big leather jacket again but he could feel the shape of her back and shoulders through it. He remembered the sight of her next to her three sisters and her mother; all of the other female Drakes had been petite and narrow-shouldered. Zoe, with her straight posture and her determined stance, had seemed sturdy and more real. But under his hand now she felt fragile and feminine, maybe because she was crying.
He remembered how she’d stared at him this morning when he’d told her he trusted her not to lock him out of the house while he got breakfast. It was if he’d told her he had scientific evidence that the moon was made out of Alka-Seltzer. He was a relative stranger; he could understand why she’d be suspicious of his motives. It was harder to understand why she wouldn’t accept that her great-aunt had faith in her.
Then again, he remembered how Zoe’s mother had made the comment about her skirt, as if she were surprised that Zoe had made any effort with her clothing at all.
Maybe it wasn’t so hard to figure out why
Zoe didn’t believe her relatives would trust her.
Her hair was tousled on the back of her head. He ran his fingers through it to straighten it, and again was surprised by how silky it was. In the sun shining through the leaves it was golden. He twisted a strand of it around his finger, interested in how it reflected the light and caressed his skin.
‘Sometimes we just trust people,’ he said to her, though he wasn’t sure she was listening. ‘Your great-aunt must have thought you were the person who deserved what she had. From the way you defended her personal things from me this morning, I’d say she was right.’
Zoe drew in a sharp breath and straightened, pulling away from him. She shook her head and rubbed her hands hard over her face.
‘I don’t believe I’m crying in front of you,’ she said, her voice full of disgust.
‘It’s okay. I’m good with crying women. My sister used to spend a lot of time crying when we were growing up.’
Her face flushed and her eyes flashed, and Nick saw that she’d gone in a moment from sorrow to embarrassment to anger.
‘Oh, well, aren’t I lucky, to be in the presence of the expert in crying women.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘What did you mean, then? You’re glad to have the opportunity to show what a nice guy you are by comforting the poor little heiress when she’s upset about her auntie leaving her fifty million dollars? What are you going to do next, offer to buy me an ice cream with a cherry on top?’
‘Zoe, be reasonable. You’re upset. I was talking to you. That’s all.’
She jumped to her feet. ‘So now you’re a nice, reasonable guy. Gee, your life must be good, especially with all those crying women to put your arm around.’ She brushed the grass of her skirt with savage movements. ‘Well, Mr Boy Scout, I don’t need your comfort or your trees or your reasonableness. I’m just fine on my own.’
And with that she turned on the heel of her running shoe and sprinted off.
This time, waiting in the hallway, Nick wasn’t as patient.
He sat back against the wall, his arms crossed on his chest, his foot tapping on the carpeted floor. Zoe had been gone for over three hours now and his backpack, which contained his wallet, was behind that locked door.
When she’d run off he’d let her, figuring she’d burn off a little steam and then come back. After half an hour under the tree he’d decided to look in the direction she’d run in, but although he was reasonably competent at tracking people and animals in the wilderness it was totally impossible in New York if he didn’t know where she was headed. He’d jogged a couple blocks, seen a subway station, realised she could be anywhere in the city by now, and slowly walked back to Xenia’s apartment.
Where he’d been sitting waiting for her ever since, his blood getting hotter and hotter.
She was impossible, aggressive, capricious, and sarcastic, and she had no right to lash out at him for doing nothing but trying to make her feel better.
She had no reason to run off and leave him.
Nick got up and paced the length of the hallway. He was hungry and thirsty and fed up and if she didn’t show up with the keys to the apartment soon he was going to break the door down. Then she’d see what a ‘nice guy’ he was.
He swore and punched the tastefully papered wall. Why was this woman winding him up so much? He’d only known her a couple of days, and only by chance. He’d tried to help her and she’d thrown it back in his face, and that should be the end of it.
If the keys to his truck didn’t happen to be locked behind that door, he’d be out of New York, father or no father.
The elevator dinged and Nick whirled around. Zoe stepped out, and he strode towards her.
‘Listen,’ he started, and then he stopped both talking and walking, because Zoe had changed.
She wore low-slung faded jeans that fit her as if they’d been made for her, and a bright pink T-shirt that clung to her top. The shapeless black jacket had been replaced by a tight brown leather jacket that followed the curve of her waist.
These were her own clothes, clothes that fit her body. And she had a good body.
No, not just good. A great body.
She was slim-hipped and strong-shouldered, but she had just enough curves to make her incredibly feminine. Her waist was slender, her legs long and obviously muscular underneath the faded blue jeans. The firm lines of her limbs contrasted with the soft roundness of her breasts and the lushness of her mouth.
Nick swallowed, all the angry words he’d been meaning to say deserting him.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘You look good.’
Which was an understatement, as well as a revelation.
She was carrying a big canvas bag over one shoulder and a carrier bag in one hand; she put them down and scratched the back of her neck as if she were uncomfortable.
‘So it’s like this,’ she said. ‘I hate people seeing me crying. So I got mad.’
He remembered the look of utter humiliation that had crossed her face when she’d looked up from her knees, tears streaking her face. Until this moment, he’d been too angry to think about what it might mean.
‘Okay,’ he said.
‘I also hate being condescended to.’
Condescending to her? The most ornery woman in New York?
Wisely, Nick remembered that Zoe was attempting some sort of apology and he restrained his answer. ‘I wasn’t trying to be condescending.’
‘All right. I’ll accept your apology.’
Nick couldn’t help smiling at that. ‘I don’t think I’ve apologised.’
‘Yeah, well, you’re looking sorry.’ She smiled at him and held out her hand. ‘Truce?’
‘Truce.’
He’d shaken her hand before, and hadn’t noticed how her grip was firm and her skin was warm and smooth. He did this time.
‘So, you’re waiting out here for your dad still.’ Her expression was back to teasing. ‘I take it he hasn’t shown up yet, or I wouldn’t have to worry about seeing you again.’
‘He hasn’t shown up yet. I was waiting for you. All my stuff, including my money, is in the apartment.’
She nodded. ‘Bet you’re hungry.’
‘Bet I am.’
‘You should remember that before you piss me off next time,’ she said, but she winked. ‘I’ve got some groceries so we can make something to eat.’
‘Good.’ He didn’t move. ‘Did you come back for any reason besides getting an apology from me?’
She shrugged. ‘I thought about it on the way back to my apartment in the Bronx. I’ve got to take some time off work to sort out Xenia’s funeral and I figure I’ll help you find your dad while I’m at it. And it’s going to be easier to look through Xenia’s papers properly if I’m staying here.’ She pulled the apartment keys out of her jacket pocket.
‘You said this morning it was too private.’
‘That was before I knew Xenia left everything to me. I figure if she didn’t want me to see something, she’d have gotten rid of it.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, and he was rewarded by the sight of her smile, white teeth against pink lips.
‘No problem. One of us might as well get something worthwhile out of this whole inheritance thing.’
‘Besides the fifty million dollars?’
‘Xenia knew I didn’t want her money,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t want it now.’
‘Maybe that’s why she left it to you.’
‘I wish she hadn’t.’ She compressed her mouth, and shook her head as if she was clearing it. ‘Anyway, this talking isn’t going to get you fed.’
‘It certainly isn’t.’ He bent and picked up her canvas bag, and grunted at its unexpected weight. ‘What have you got in here, bricks?’
‘Dumb-bells. I use them for training.’ She took hold of the strap and tugged it away from him. ‘I can handle it.’
He considered arguing about it, but their truce was too new and, besides, he liked the way the straining
of her arm and back muscles made her breasts thrust forward. He gave it to her, and she slung it onto her shoulder and picked up the carrier bag.
‘By the way, I’m curious,’ she said, unlocking the door. ‘Did you see how my family reacted to the news that I’ve inherited fifty million dollars? I wasn’t looking.’
‘They were pretty surprised.’
That was an understatement. Every one of the Drakes had been in eye-bugging, jaw-dropping shock. The youngest sister Cindy had actually gasped when the lawyer had made the announcement.
Zoe let out a sharp laugh as she went into the apartment, Nick close behind her. ‘Yeah, I bet they were surprised.’ They reached the kitchen and Zoe dropped the bags and turned to him, a smile on her lips. It was wide, lopsided, and naughty.
‘I bet they think I’m going to go right out and blow the whole inheritance in Vegas or something. Come to think of it, that would really piss them off.’ She bit her lip and looked as if she were considering it.
Nick laughed. ‘It would take serious dedication to lose fifty million dollars in Vegas.’
‘That’s true. Maybe I should do something requiring much less effort.’ She began pulling packages from the grocery bag. ‘Did you see how they looked at me when they thought I was shacking up with you in my dear departed great-aunt’s apartment?’
‘I did. Why didn’t you tell them the whole truth?’
She shrugged. ‘I guess I can never disappoint them if I confirm their worst suspicions, right?’ She held up a package of pasta. ‘Spaghetti all right with you?’
‘Somehow I didn’t expect my first meal with a multimillionairess to be spaghetti.’
‘Hey, you can take the girl out of the Bronx but you can’t take the Bronx out of the girl.’ She pulled out a head of lettuce and a tomato and tossed them in a high arc in his direction. ‘In honour of your apology, I’ll even let you make the salad.’
Nick caught the lettuce in one hand and the tomato in the other. Zoe bent to get some pots and pans out of a cupboard, affording him a view of her shapely behind. Nick couldn’t help but stare.
