The Lottery Winner (22 page)

He'd fallen for Jessie. The realization slammed his heart against his chest. Given his history, how could he have let himself fall for a woman he knew next to nothing about? He didn't even know her last name.

A relationship with her would be one based on trust, not facts. And trusting was hard for him. Could he accept that her past might be too painful for her to ever feel comfortable discussing? But even if she didn't share hers, he'd have to tell her about his, about Trent and Elizabeth, their embezzlement, the dismissed charges against him and that he'd almost gone to prison. He'd have to risk rejection. The idea filled his gut with dread.

He wouldn't tell her yet. First, he would show Jessie how good they were together. Then maybe she wouldn't turn away.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

J
ESSIE
FEIGNED
SLEEP
until she heard Logan's breathing deepen. Only then did she turn her head and study the man beside her.

His hair was a spiky mess. Her fault. Her face warmed. She'd never grabbed Aaron by the head like that, nor had she ever experienced so much pleasure with him that she'd lost control and been noisy while making love. Sex with her former fiancé had been pleasant, but silent.

The intimate act with Logan was the intense event about which novels were written. The sounds that had gurgled from her throat and the cries that escaped from her lips had been uncontrollable.

Could this be love? They'd known each other less than a month, and the better portion of that had been filled with animosity. Yet she already knew that a few more weeks with him would not be enough. She and Aaron had dated almost a year before she'd deemed her slow-growing fondness love. She now wondered if it had just become habit.

What she felt for Logan was explosive and exciting and yet fun and comfortable, too. Today had been one of the best days of her life—if not
the
best. She admired his protectiveness of Miri, his loyalty to his clients and his patience with her. She genuinely liked Logan, as well as desired him.

Would her family like him, too?

Tension erased satisfaction. How could she tell her family about Logan when that meant revealing the double life she'd been living? She'd been lying to everyone—Logan included. And all of them had the right to be angry with her.

Would Logan forgive her for lying? Would he understand her reasons? Having money was a good thing. It wasn't like she'd lied about a criminal past.

As her granny used to say, she'd dug herself a hole that was going to be difficult to climb out of.

The only way for her to even have a chance at a happy ending with Logan was to come clean. Tomorrow, she'd tell her family everything. Then she'd tell Logan. Once everyone was on the same truthful page, she'd take him home to meet her parents, and she'd pray they loved him as much as she did.

* * *

J
ESSIE
FLOATED
BACK
up the dock after seeing Logan off Thursday morning. Waking up beside him, then making love with him and showering together had put a spring in her step. Then his hot kiss and his promise to come back tonight after work had put a smile on her face that felt brighter than the sun rising behind the house.

Determined to get the call to her mother out of the way, she went in search of her beach bag. She'd set it down somewhere last night, but she'd been so nervous after cleaning the fish that she couldn't remember where she'd dumped it. She'd wanted Logan to stay last night, but she'd been raised with old southern manners. Girls didn't call boys on the phone, let alone ask them to spend the night. It seemed so...forward.

She'd hoped Logan would take the decision out of her hands, but he hadn't. He'd made her say it. And it hadn't killed her. In fact, speaking her mind made her feel a little braver, more confident she could handle the call home she had to make.

She found her oversize tote in the laundry room. She hadn't put it here. Logan must have. She pulled out the dirty beach towels and pitched them in the washer. Next came her hat and sunscreen. She shivered at the memory of Logan slicking lotion across her back. Then finally, at the bottom of the bag, she located the waterproof box Logan had loaned her to put her phone in.

She fumbled the tightly sealed case open and retrieved her phone. Four missed calls. Two voice mails. She'd never heard it ring. Her stomach plunged to her toes. Had something happened to her father or mother?

All the calls and messages were from Brandon. She played the first one. “Jessie, where are you? Pick up... Call me.” The second: “Damn it, Jessie, I told you not to pull this crap. Answer your phone. Call me before I get on a plane.”

She gulped and hit Call Back.

“Where in the hell have you been?” he shouted without a greeting.

She took a deep breath. “I was out on a boat all day with a friend yesterday. I had my phone in a waterproof—and apparently soundproof—case. I'm sorry I didn't hear it ring.”

“I called four times. You should have checked your messages when you got home.”

When she'd gotten home she'd been otherwise occupied. “Yes. I know.”

“Is she okay?” she heard her mother ask in the background. Brandon must be at her parents' house.

“She is until I get my hands on her,” Brandon groused. “What kind of friend? You're supposed to be lying low.”

“I was. But I got tired of solitary confinement and I...” This wasn't going to be easy or good. “And I was running low on cash. So I...took a job.”

Anticipating his reaction, she held the phone away from her ear, but his, “You what?” blasted through loud and clear.

“I dyed my hair and bought colored contacts. I told you that even you wouldn't recognize me. And I took a job waiting tables. I work for tips only. No paper trail.”

“Of all the stupid—”

“Don't call your sister stupid,” her mother chimed in.

He took an audible breath. “Jessamine, that was foolish and risky. Who is this friend?”

“You told me not to use a cash machine and you hustled me out of town so fast that I didn't give you power of attorney so you could access my accounts. I needed money, Brandon, for food. For gas. For toilet paper. Everything is more expensive down here.”

“You should have said something.”

“What if I had? Can you afford to send me money?” She didn't give him time to argue. She had to take control of her life. And this was the moment to do it. “My friend's name is Logan Nash. He does taxes in Key West. I work for his aunt, Miri Evans, at the Fisherman's Widow. They're good people, Brandon. I wouldn't have taken the job if they weren't.”

“What do you know about him?”

Typical Brandon. He'd gone into investigator mode. “I know he was raised here and had a business in Charleston for a while. And I know...” She took a deep breath. This was a biggie. “I know that I'm in love with him.”

The words felt right in her mouth and in her heart, and she felt empowered just by saying them.

Her brother cursed, fluently. And her mother scolded him for his language.

“Jessamine, you're lonely and too damned trusting. You have a lot at stake right now. Have you told him about the money?”

She winced. “No. Not yet.”

“For your own safety, don't, and don't do anything stupid like marry the man until I've had a chance to check him out.”

“Oh, for pity's sake, Brandon, that's not necessary. Please stop playing cop for one minute and trust me.”

“Like we were supposed to trust your judgment about Aaron?”

She shrank in shame. “I know you're all used to making decisions for me, but you can't baby me forever. I'm twenty-six years old. It's time I started making decisions for myself. I love you all. But I have to go.”

Then, for the second time, she hung up on a family member.

It was liberating. But also terrifying.

She'd told her family. That left the most important person. Logan.

* * *

“Y
OU
SAID
TO
dress nicely,” Jessie said Thursday afternoon as Logan helped her into his car. “I guess that means we're not going fishing?”

He flashed a knee-weakening smile. “No. And I like the sundress. You have great legs.”

The compliment warmed her. “Thank you. Are we going to one of your locals' hangouts?”

“No. I'm taking you to meet one of my clients.”

“Why?” she asked when he slid into the driver's seat.

“He'll explain when we get there.”

He turned north on the Overseas Highway. They rode in silence, but not the usual comfortable one they shared on the boat. Guilt and worry gnawed at her. She needed to tell Logan the truth. And she'd planned to do so as soon as she saw him tonight. But doubts had encroached after her call home.

What if she saw that greedy light enter in his eyes when he heard she had a substantial income guaranteed for the next fify years? She'd seen it in Aaron's, and then in her friends' right before they'd started listing all the ways she could spend her windfall—on them.

She wanted to believe Logan wasn't like that. But what if she was wrong? Maybe if they'd known each other longer, she wouldn't have these doubts. Maybe time was all they needed before she could be sure. She chewed her bottom lip.

He reached out and touched her tender flesh. “Don't do that. You'll like these people.”

She hoped he was right. At mile marker twenty-five he exited onto Summerland Key and drove toward the ocean. He passed rows of expensive houses before turning into the driveway of a mansion. He pushed the button at the gate box. Then the iron gates swung silently open.

The house, shaped like a big comma, was large enough to be a small hotel. Beyond it the ocean looked like a swath of undulating teal silk.

“Your client lives here? It's huge! It must have cost millions.”

He nodded. “Twenty-six million.”

Her mouth dried. Words vanished. She'd never met anyone with that kind of money. Although she could have been someone with that kind of money if she'd taken the lump sum instead of the annuity.

A man she guessed to be in his late fifties with silver hair and wearing expensive clothing greeted them. “So glad you could make it, Jessie. I've heard great things about you. I'm Reed. The wife and I are sitting out by the pool enjoying a cocktail. Join us.”

Numbly she followed her host down a flagstone walkway as wide as the halls of her school and the length of a football field. The pool, when it came into view, was larger than any public pool she'd ever seen. It had a waterfall at one end and a spa at the other. In the center a huge leaping copper fish spouted an arch of water. There was so much to see she couldn't take it all in.

Logan kept company with millionaires? She never would have guessed. His clothes, though from an expensive label that she couldn't have afforded on a teacher's salary, were not new. And his car, while clean and well maintained, was not new, either, or a pricy model.

The woman, also fiftyish, was so beautiful she could have been a model, and her clothing looked like something right off the fashion runway. Her swept-back dark hair revealed not one wrinkle on her face. Even her teeth were perfect. She swept out a graceful, jeweled hand. “I'm Ana. Please, sit. Let me pour you a glass of wine.”

Feeling very out of her element, Jessie accepted the wine and perched on the thickly cushioned settee indicated. Was the furniture teak? It looked like something off the yachts she used to watch at the marina. Logan sat beside her, his thigh nudging hers.

“Reed and I are frequent visitors to the Fisherman's Widow. We've seen and admired your work.”

These people who could afford anything liked her work? “Thank you.”

“Have you ever done a mural?” Reed asked.

“Yes. I painted halls at m—” She glanced at Logan and found his gaze pinned on her. Cowardly, she turned her attention back to her hosts. “I've painted several murals at the elementary school near where I used to live.”

“You're very talented,” Ana said. “Would you consider doing one for us?”

“A mural? W-where?”

“Our daughter and our grandchildren are moving in with us. The girls are three and five. We'd love to fill their suite with the birds and animals of the Keys. I particularly loved your Key deer, but it sold before I could purchase it.”

They wanted her to paint a mural in a twenty-six-million-dollar mansion? At a loss for words, Jessie sipped her wine and tried to make sense of the request. Murals took weeks, sometimes months, depending on their complexity. Agreeing would mean not returning home in January. It would mean more time in Key West. More time with Logan.

“Could I see the room?”

Ana rose with the grace of a ballerina. “Certainly. This way. We will leave the men to talk about fishing or sports or whatever.”

The house was unbelievable—like something you'd see in a documentary about Hollywood movie stars. She knew she was acting like a tourist with her head swiveling in every direction as she took it all in, but she couldn't help it.

They climbed a marble staircase and traversed a long hall. Finally, Ana threw back double doors. She flipped a graceful hand to the right. “The girls will sleep in this room. And this will be their playroom. I'd like you to start here. If time permits, I'd like for you to decorate their bedroom, as well.”

Two rooms. In a mansion. She couldn't get over it. She'd begun to believe she had some talent when her pieces sold at the restaurant. Yet she'd considered that mostly tourist trade. But this...

Her hostess looked at her expectantly. Jessie nodded. “If you'll give me an idea what you'd like, I can sketch something for your approval.”

“Excellent. I look forward to working with you, Jessie. Let's go tell the men.” They rejoined the others as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

But so many things had. The incredible job opportunity made her feel like a real artist—not just one who produced tourist fodder. And it also meant she had to quit stalling and tell Logan her whole story. Because if she'd guessed wrong about his lack of interest in her annuity, then there was no way she could stay in the Keys to take this job of a lifetime.

* * *

L
OGAN
PARKED
BENEATH
Jessie's house and helped her from the car. He had it all planned. Tonight was about showing her how much he loved her, then tomorrow he'd tell her about Charleston, Elizabeth and Trent. If she accepted his past, they'd move forward. If she couldn't— His chest tightened. Not an option he wanted to consider.