Barefoot in the Sand (27 page)

“Because I thought he’d leave Jayna if he found out what she did, and I was worried about that kid. When I was cleared of everything, my father continued to believe I was guilty.”

“Why?”

That was one question he could answer without hesitation. “Because it made him feel less guilty about sleeping with my girlfriend.”

She searched his face, clearly having trouble with it all.

“This is the truth, Lacey.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

The question didn’t surprise him, but the little note of hurt or worry in her voice stunned the shit out of him. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure I ever really was.”

“Then why risk your career and family for her?”

In truth, he’d helped his family by protecting the business. “She forged his name on documents and I let the authorities believe I’d signed my name, to protect my dad’s reputation. If his business collapsed, a lot of people I really care about would be out of work. So I took the blame, hired an attorney, and got the charges dismissed.”

She shook her head. “Then who took the blame when you were exonerated?”

“The company who’d filed the original complaint went bankrupt and everything was dropped. No one was charged and…”
Jayna came out smelling like a rose
. “I left my dad’s firm.”

“He didn’t believe you even after you were cleared? Your own father? That’s preposterous.”

“You’ve never met him,” he said quietly, hearing the hate and anger in the undertones of his words and making
no effort to hide those emotions. They were too real. “As long as I was the bad guy, everything he did in the past was excused. He even convinced some cronies on the Arch Board to ban me from getting a license and deny me permission to sit for the rest of the exams.”

She leaned against one of the white columns of the building. “Is this why you’ve kept your name off everything? Won’t sign a contract? Haven’t filed anything formal yet?”

“I will do all that, but I wanted to convince you first of how right I am for the job.”

“Why? Why is it so important?”

“If I complete a full project on this scale, I can sit for my exams, get my licenses, and start my own business.” He gave her a direct gaze, as truthful as what he was telling her.

“Were you trying to win me over or convince me to hire you by using sex?”

“No,” he insisted. “That just happened.”

“Not yet it didn’t.”

“Whether you believe me or not, my plan was to tell you over dinner, but then they made this decision to have this impromptu meeting and I really didn’t want to give you an excuse to quit. Plus”—he tapped the affidavit rolled in her hand—“I wanted to get some concrete proof that I’m telling the truth.”

She closed her eyes like he’d hit her, saying nothing.

“What happened when I left?” he asked.

“I got on the agenda.” The words were barely a whisper, as soft as the sea breeze that lifted a curl of her hair.

“I knew you could do it.” He had to fight the urge to touch her. “That’s great, Lacey.”

She finally opened her eyes, none of the misery gone from their topaz depths. “Why weren’t you straight from day one, Clay? Why didn’t you tell me that this job could make or break your career? Maybe I would have been sympathetic.”

More regret gnawed at him. Why, indeed? “When we met on the beach, you were so certain I was coming at this through the back door,” he admitted. “I thought it was smart to prove to you what I could do first.”

“Like last night? What you could do up against a wall?”

The words punched a hole in his chest. “No, Lacey.”

“How can I possibly believe you didn’t just use sex to sweeten the deal and make sure I was too far gone to send you packing?”

He waited a beat, then asked the obvious. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Too far gone to send me packing?”

She didn’t answer.

“Excuse me, do either of you know Ms. Lacey Armstrong?” The voice came from the parking lot, making them both turn.

A man came forward. He was heavyset, and thin gray strands of hair lifted as he hustled toward her. Clay immediately recognized him, mostly by his out-of-place suit, as the person David Fox had been talking to earlier.

“I’m Lacey Armstrong.”

His face brightened, already pink and sweaty. “Oh, that’s fortunate.” He reached out his hand. “I’m Ira Howell with Wells Fargo Bank in Fort Myers. Have you presented your plans to rebuild on the Barefoot Bay property?”

Lacey stole a glance at Clay before answering. “I didn’t present much,” she said. “Why?”

“Do your plans include building on the Everham and Tomlinson properties adjacent to your lot?”

She tensed a little, and nodded. “Yes, they do. Why?”

“You don’t own those properties, ma’am.”

“I’m in the process of purchasing both lots. I’ve made offers and am waiting for the paperwork.”

“Not anymore you’re not. My client closed sales this afternoon on both properties. Your plans will have to be scaled back. Or canceled.”

“The Everham and Tomlinson properties sold? That’s not possible.” Lacey choked softly, stepping back as if the guy had hit her, while a little bell dinged in Clay’s head. “Who bought them?”

Clay knew, instantly. David Fox had been talking to this guy and, when Clay saw him at the beach, he’d heard Fox use the name Tomlinson on the phone.

“Can’t say, ma’am, but both neighbors closed this afternoon,” the banker said.

The bastard had stolen the land right out from under her. Clay was next to Lacey in a flash, his hand on her back.

“That’s not possible. I haven’t been informed—”

“I’m informing you now.” He pulled an envelope from his breast pocket. “The owners have asked me to return your deposit on both lots, along with my client’s apologies for the inconvenience.”

“Who is your client, Mr. Howell?” Clay demanded. As if he didn’t know.

“The buyer prefers to maintain anonymity.” He handed Lacey the envelope, added a nod good-bye, and headed back to the parking lot, as efficient as a process server.

“Lacey,” Clay said, gripping her arm. “I know who did this to you.”

She looked up at him. “Who?”

“David Fox.”

She just shook her head. “I can’t believe anything you say anymore.”

“Well, you better believe this, because I’m right. He had a meeting with Tomlinson at Barefoot Bay. I was there, I heard the conversation, I heard him use the name Tomlinson. And I just saw him talking to this banker guy in the parking lot less than ten minutes ago.” He took her hand, pulling her around the corner to see if he could spot Fox again, but he’d disappeared. “Your ex is the client Howell is protecting. He has the money, the motivation, the need to control you.”

She held up her hands to stop him, the check in one fist, the affidavit in the other, and an expression of pure distrust on her face. “Please, Clay. Just leave.”

“Lacey, I heard him say ‘Mr. Tomlinson’ on the phone, and I just saw him talking to Ira Howell. I swear I did, Lacey.”

“Mommy! Are you out here?”

Lacey’s face registered a flash of horror. “I want you to leave,” she said in a soft whisper.

“Leave? The island? No, Lacey, I’m not.”

“Lace? You out here?” A woman called.

“Leave!” She gave him a little push. “I need to be with my family.”

“Meet me at Barefoot Bay tonight, Lacey.”

Her jaw dropped. “You have
got
to be kidding.”

“I’m not kidding. And I’m not leaving this island. I’ve
never walked away from any challenge, and I’m not about to start with a woman I care about as much as you.”

“A woman or a job?”

Both. “Meet me tonight at the beach at Barefoot Bay. We’re not done, Lacey.”

But the look in her eyes said they were.

S
eriously, Lacey? You’re going to believe the accusation of a known criminal over the father of your child? A man who claims to have heard me use a name on the phone twenty feet away?” David lifted his feet onto the ottoman and locked his hands behind his head. “I think you have bigger problems than trying to pin that deal on me.”

Lacey glanced at the kitchen, where Tessa and Zoe were making food with Ashley, giving Lacey the quiet moment she’d been waiting for since they’d returned from the town hall. Jocelyn had texted that she was going back to the hotel for a “client emergency,” so Tessa and Zoe had returned to the house with Lacey.

“Clay heard you say his name.”

“But he didn’t actually see me talking to anyone.”

“Why would he lie about this?”

David let out a hearty laugh. “Why
wouldn’t
he lie is a
better question. Lacey, I really hope you have this cougar fantasy out of your head now.”

Irritation stung at the words. “Well, you’re not a liar, David, and I notice you haven’t directly answered the question. Did you or did you not meet with Mr. Tomlinson at the beach when you ran into Clay?”

He let out a long, slow, put-upon sigh that sounded so much like Ashley when she was trapped and in trouble. “I did meet with him, that’s true.”

“Why?”

“I thought I could help you.”

“How could meeting with Mr. Tomlinson possibly help me?”

Another sigh of resignation. “By buying the property for you—”

“So you did?”

“—as a gift. To save you the added expense and show you how much I care and want to be involved in your life and your project.”

Why did every word that came out of his mouth sound like bullshit? Because so often it was. “If that’s true, then I can buy the property back directly from you.” That might delay things, but at least—

“No, I didn’t buy it, Lacey, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

Lacey perched on the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. “Then who did?”

“I don’t know. Tomlinson said he had another rock-solid offer that he simply couldn’t ignore. Of course, I assumed it was you.”

“Did you ask him who the offer was from?”

“I did, because I thought I could go to that buyer. But he said it was anonymous through his bank. So I just let it go as a bad idea and decided to look for other ways to convince you that I care.” His face was set in the most sincere expression, his eyes dark with just the right amount of contrition and hope.

God, he was good. Believable. Direct. In some ways, more real than Clay.

Forget Clay, Lacey
. But that was the problem. She couldn’t forget Clay.

“Why wouldn’t you talk to me about it? Why wouldn’t you just ask to be an investor? Why go behind my back?”

“I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to show you, and Ashley, that I’m serious about wanting to be a family. Because, Lacey, I
am
serious.”

She dropped her head into her hands, grateful that Zoe and Tessa were in the kitchen with Ashley; at least she hoped they weren’t listening to this.

“I have never lied to you, Lacey.” He stood, the words somehow having far more impact that way.

“I know,” she conceded. He was a lot of things—adrenaline junkie, absentee father, even a bit of an actor—but she couldn’t remember David lying to her. In fact, when she’d told him she was pregnant he’d been honest in his reaction. She’d hated what he said, but he’d been honest.

Which was more than she could say for Clay Walker.

“I tried to tell you. I wanted to.” He took a step forward, looming over her now, making her feel small and helpless. “But you were so preoccupied.”

“Don’t,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t tell me circumstances stopped you from being straight with me. I’ve had enough of that for one day.”

“Then you’re over him?”

“I was never under him,” she said defiantly. “Whether you want to believe that or not, it’s true.”

“Of course I believe it.” With no warning David was on his knee in front of her, shifting from his power stance to a proposal pose.