The Lottery Winner (9 page)

Her mom could always find a cloud's silver lining. “That makes it all worth it.”

“Do you need anything? Whatever it is, I'll find a way to get it to you.”

She needed to get back to normal: to her family, her home and her job. But those were the very things her mom couldn't deliver. “Thanks, Mom, but I'm all right.”

“What about money? Do you have some of those cards left?”

She couldn't tell her mother how low she'd allowed her funds to get because she'd thought she'd be home by now. “I'm good. Thanks.”

“If you're sure? Then tell me about your paintings.”

“They're all of local stuff. The birds, Key deer and plants.”

“I wish I could see them.”

Her mother would never see the one she'd sold. The realization filled her with sadness. “Me, too.”

A splash nearby startled her. She twisted in her chair, expecting to see that the pushy cormorants had returned. Instead, Logan, paddling a kayak, was five yards from her dock. Her heart lurched. How had she missed his approach? She didn't want to talk to him, but short of retreating to the house where he'd likely follow, she didn't have a choice but to stand her ground.

“Good morning,” he called out.

“Do you have company?” her mother asked.

Jessie winced, then ducked her head and reached for her sunglasses. She'd have to hang up on her mother—something she hated doing—and tell another white lie. “Someone's paddling by in a kayak. There's a lot of that down here.”

“Jessamine Martin, are you telling a fib?”

Apparently, her mother's uncanny ability to tell when one of her children wasn't being truthful worked long-distance.

“Sorry, I didn't know you were on the phone,” Logan said holding on to a cleat at her feet.

“Have you met someone? It's very early. Did he stay the night? Does your brother know? Should Brandon check him out?” Her mother's voice rose with each question.

“No to all of the above.”

“I hope this means you've put Aaron behind you,” her mother continued, ignoring Jessie's comment. “But, baby, don't rush into anything. Especially now. I know you're lonely, far away from home, and at the holidays, too, but you're also vulner—”

“It's nothing like that. Not even close. I'm glad you called, but I have to go.”

“I can take a not-so-subtle hint. I won't even ask his name or if he's tall, dark and handsome, but I do want to hear all the juicy details soon. Very soon. Please, Jessamine,
please
be careful. A rebound romance—”

“It's not that. I promise.” She walked a few yards away from Logan, covered the phone and whispered, “Love you. I'm glad you called.”

“Love you more. And one day when you're a mother, you'll understand how much. Don't tell your brother I have this phone. Call me back when you can. If I can't answer safely, then I'll skedaddle to somewhere I can. And when you discard your current phone, you'd better send me your new number.” The line went dead.

Jessie's heart sank. She was turning her mother into a liar. She stared at the phone and loneliness expanded to fill every crevice of her being. Then she spun and confronted Logan. His dark glasses reflected her angry glare.

“Don't you ever work?”

He shrugged then rested his paddle across the front of the kayak, bringing her attention to the well-defined creases between his deltoids and triceps. Again, the urge to sketch him hit her from out of the blue.

“It's early. I'll be in the office by nine. Coffee smells good.” He offered a hopeful smile.

The flutter in her belly was a hunger pang. Nothing more. “I only have one mug.”

“I brought my own.” He dug around in the front compartment and produced a travel mug.

“Coffee's black. No cream or sugar.”

“Just the way I like it.” He reached into the hole in the hull again, retrieving a white paper bag. “It will go well with these. Fresh bear claws from the best bakery on the island.”

Her stomach betrayed her by growling loudly. She'd skipped breakfast. “What do you want, Logan?”

“I'm just being friendly. Here.”

He offered her the bag. She took it. Their fingers bumped. So did her pulse.

“Why?”

He laughed—a low rumble that would have been appealing from anyone else. “Are you always suspicious when people are nice to you?”

“Only with you. You've made it clear you don't like or trust me. So why are you really here?”

“Because Miri's important to me, and she likes you.”

He tied off the kayak then climbed onto the dock. His legs were long and tanned and lightly swirled with dark hair. Even his bare feet were sexy. No. Not sexy. Just...sketchable. He had good feet from an artist's perspective—bone and sinew clearly defined.

So he was attractive. Big deal. That didn't mean she was attracted to him. She just appreciated—purely from an aesthetic standpoint—a nice body. Warmth climbed her cheeks. She hoped her line of thought didn't show on her hot face.

“Jessie, I'm sorry. We got off on the wrong foot because, as Miri says, I'm a rule-following bean counter. And you're breaking a few. But I can't deny that you're working as hard—if not harder—than every other Widow employee.” He extended a hand.

Shocked by his apology, she returned the gesture automatically. The heat of his palm seared hers and stole her breath. She snatched her hand back, ducked her head and opened the bag, gulping air. The pastries' mouthwatering, sugary scent filled her nostrils.

How could she refuse to share her coffee? She nudged the pot with her toe. “Help yourself. It's probably cold by now.”

“Not working on your tan today?” he asked as he poured.

“No.” Thank heavens she'd pulled on yoga pants and a long-sleeve T-shirt. They might be old and nearly worn-out, but at least she was covered.

“Will you paint today?”

“Maybe later.” Hoping to avoid talking to him, she shoved the pastry into her mouth and took a big bite. The flaky confection practically melted on her tongue.

“Have you finished the cormorant painting?”

She shook her head.

“Was the island your background?”

She nodded.

“Have you paddled over there yet?”

Wary of his curiosity, she swallowed and weighed her answer. “No.”

“Why not?”

She avoided answering by taking another bite and shrugged.

“The kayaks hanging under the house are part of your rental agreement. All safety equipment is included.”

Suspicion intensified. “You've been checking up on me?”

“I was curious about the house. I looked it up on the agent's webpage. So why haven't you been paddling?”

“I don't know how to use a kayak, and going out on the water alone with no one to check up on me doesn't seem smart.” She instantly regretted volunteering that information. “Buddy system and all that.”

“I'll teach you the basics. But not today. Tomorrow.”

“What's in it for you?” Her mother would be ashamed by Jessie's lack of gratitude.

“Like I said, you're working hard for Miri.” He dug into his pocket then extended his hand. “You disappeared last night before I could give you the cash from your painting.”

The thick wad of bills in his palm made her gulp. Money. For her art. It seemed surreal. Her hands shook as she took the roll, careful to avoid touching him again. She counted the twenties with sticky fingers. Five hundred dollars.

“Checking to see if I cheated you?”

“No. I—I just can't understand why someone paid this much for my work. I'm not an artist.”

He shoved back his glasses and searched her face. “Are you serious?”

His disbelief was flattering. “Even if I were one, I'm an unknown.”

“Exactly. An unknown with exceptional talent. When you gain recognition, these folks can say they snapped up one of your earliest works.”

She stared at the cash, her fingers growing clammy around the bills. She was an art teacher—that was what she was. She couldn't wait to get back to her students, and once she did, there wouldn't be time for the intricate work she'd done here. Admittedly, the pieces were her best work, but she'd never be good enough to give up her day job.

She blurted her biggest fear. “I think the first sale was a fluke.”

“The sale wasn't a fluke, Jessie. Trust me on that. Bring the second painting tonight. Better yet, bring two. Unless you're really not interested in marketing your work.”

The old dream refused to die. “I am. But...”

She was terrified. Of making a mistake. Of humiliating herself. Of having her secret heart's desire crushed once and for all.

He polished off his doughnut then his coffee. “There is no but. Do you want me to help you choose which ones?”

That meant letting him back inside. “No!”

“Then thanks for the coffee. And I'll see you later.” He climbed into his kayak and paddled off, leaving her more tormented than she'd been before his arrival.

She should have told him she wasn't returning to the restaurant. But if she didn't, not only would she be breaking her promise to Miri, but she also wouldn't get to display more paintings. And if she didn't display her paintings, then how would she ever know if the first sale had been a fluke or if she actually had a marketable talent? Could she live with always wondering
what if...
?

The money in her hand gave her the answer. Because of the sale she could afford not only groceries but also Christmas presents for her family and a birthday present for her mom.

How could she not go back to work?

CHAPTER SIX

L
OGAN
PACED
THE
length of I's boat, but twenty-four feet wasn't enough to work out his tension. Jessie was a puzzle he couldn't figure out.

The awe on her face when he'd given her the cash had unsettled him. She honestly didn't believe she had talent. Had no one ever told her? Then the hope in her eyes when he had told her had hit him like a punch in the gut.

And clearly she had no idea how hot she looked in her threadbare workout gear. Where the hell had she been living? In a cave? In solitary confinement? That possibility concerned him. Could she have been in prison? Was that why she refused to allow the background check?

He paused in front of I. “I need you to find out who Jessie is and what she's running from.”

I tipped back his beer, swallowed then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can't. Not without something to work with. A first name—a nickname, at that—and no last name will get me nowhere. You need fingerprints or something.”

“Did you run her car tag?”

“Since you insisted, yes. It's a rental. And I don't have a connection who can tell me whose name's on the contract or where the lease originated.”

“Can you get something out of her landlord?”

“Not going to happen. The woman who owns the agency cheated on her husband a few years back. I worked for the husband. My evidence against her cost her a lot of alimony. If I show up at her office, I'll probably get shot. You could try, but since you're already borderline stalking the waitress, I wouldn't recommend it. Sit down. Your pacing is getting on my nerves.”

Logan perched on the edge of a cooler.

“What makes you so sure Jessie's trouble?”

“C'mon, I. You've seen how jumpy she is. That guy from yesterday freaked her out. She got so pale I thought she'd bolt.”

“She should be worried if the old broad's right and he's been watching her three days. Did you ask the guy how he knew her?”

“Yeah. He claims he can't remember. Says he's a truck driver who follows the I-95 corridor from here to Maine. That's a lot of territory, and he could have seen her anywhere. This morning when I paddled by Jessie's, I interrupted a phone call. She started whispering, then hung up fast.”

“You went to her house again?”

“Yeah.” And he'd wished he hadn't once he'd discovered she wasn't wearing underwear. Seeing the tight buds of her nipples and the curve of her butt beneath the thin, worn clothing had been ten times sexier than her bikini.

You are not turned on by that shyster.

“Nash, when you tail someone, you're supposed to stay out of sight.”

“I'm befriending the enemy—at Miri's request. I have a plan. Jessie won't even know what I'm doing.”

I shook his head. “I don't want to hear it. That'd make me an accessory.”

“If you don't like my methods, you follow her. I'll pay you.”

“No. You're paying me more than you can afford already.”

“Forget Elizabeth and Trent for a minute. Jessie's more urgent.” He couldn't believe he was saying it, but right now protecting Miri mattered more than finding his ex-wife and clearing his name. And, yes, he hated to admit, he was curious about Jessie.

“Now you're talking. Forgetting your exes is the smartest thing you've said in over a year. Get Jessie's info from Miri.”

“She won't give it to me, and she hasn't left an employee file lying around where I can pick it up. You try.”

I shook his head. “No way. I'm not crossing your aunt.”

“Why?”

“Because Miri's fond of the girl, and both of them helped me make such a good impression on my daughter that Bethany wants to set up another dinner at the Fisherman's Widow next week. I'm not screwing that up. Have you done an internet search of ‘Jessie' and ‘artist' and see what you come up with?”

“I did. I found nothing.”

“Maybe there's nothing to find except a bad breakup and a vengeful ex.”

“You don't believe that.”

“If I don't it's because I'm a distrustful SOB. Look, Nash, I'd hate to see you get charged with stalking. Back off. Give the girl some room. She'll show her hand sooner or later.”

“Before or after she rips off Miri?” Frustrated, he checked his watch. Almost three. He wanted to avoid leaving Jessie alone with Miri whenever possible. “I have to go.”

* * *

J
ESSIE
STEERED
INTO
the restaurant parking lot. From the safety of her locked car, she scanned the surrounding area. She didn't see last night's stranger. If she was lucky, he'd had his fill of seafood and had moved on.

She didn't see Logan, either. For once, she wanted him near, but only because he made her feel like displaying her work wasn't tomfoolery, as her daddy would call it.

Still keeping an eye out for the stranger, she checked to make sure her pepper spray was in her pocket, then exited the vehicle and extracted her canvases from the backseat. Warily, she made her way to the side door. Miri and two girls who looked eerily similar stood inside wearing the Fisherman's Widow uniform. They had to be twins, or at least siblings very close in age.

Jessie felt a rush of...disappointment? The emotion made no sense. She should be happy if Miri had hired help. That would allow Jessie to leave this job that was forcing her to lie to her family. But as ill-advised as it might be to keep this job, she enjoyed the work, liked Miri and Sue's company and felt a sense of purpose when she had somewhere she was supposed to be.

Miri waved her over. “Jessie, come in and meet Tara and Lara. They've worked for me the past two summers. Last night I texted them an SOS, and they've agreed to help out while they're on winter break from college. They'll be here through New Year's Eve.”

Jessie said her hellos, trying to hide her disappointment over being reminded of yet another holiday she wouldn't celebrate with her family. She glanced around. “Is Sue in the back?”

“No. She was so exhausted I gave her the day off. You take tomorrow.”

If she did, that would leave her without an excuse to avoid Logan's kayaking trip.
Just say no. You don't owe him an excuse.

“Show me what you've brought,” Miri insisted.

Jessie rotated the canvases. The chorus of oohs bolstered her ego but also made her self-conscious.

“Jessie, they're wonderful.”

“Thank you, Miri. They're just scenes from behind the house.”

“Where did you learn to paint like that?” the girl she thought was Tara asked, wide-eyed.

Jessie didn't consider the twins a threat but worried about what might be repeated to Logan. She edited her answer. “I've always dabbled.”

“You're this good with no formal training?” Lara wailed in dismay. “I've been drawing for years, and I can't do anything close to this.”

There was no way she could let the girl feel inferior. “I studied art in college with excellent teachers who helped me refine my skills.”

“You took classes?” Lara asked.

“A lot of them. I min—” A footfall behind her made her pivot. Logan. She'd been so distracted by the girls she hadn't checked to see if he occupied his usual table.

How long had he been listening? Had she said too much? She searched his face. His gaze fell to her work, and she caught her breath, foolishly waiting for his approval. His opinion shouldn't matter. But it did. However, his expression gave nothing away. To hide her disappointment, she asked Miri, “Which one do you want behind the register?”

“Your great white heron looks so lifelike I want to feed him a fish. But I think I want the hibiscus up here. The colors pop.”

Pam, the other waitress, joined the group. “You should have seen the one she just sold,” she told the newcomers. “The Key deer looked so real I wanted to pet them.”

“Do you have a picture of it?” Lara asked.

Jessie shook her head. “No. I don't have a camera.”

“What about the one on your phone?”

“Mine's a basic model. No camera.”

“You have no record of the one you sold?” Miri asked.

The pang of loss intensified. “None.”

“That's a shame. Logan, would you hang this one, please?”

He did as asked then took a card from his pocket. “Title?”

“
Afternoon Perfume
?”

Logan wrote on the card then tacked it on the wall. She read another high price and gulped. “You're good for my ego, but are you sure...?”

“Was I right last time?” He took the canvas from her, scanned the dining room then started toward the opposite wall.

“Wait!” The word erupted from Jessie's mouth, startling her. He looked down. She realized she'd grabbed his arm. His skin was warm against her palm, the muscles beneath it rock solid. She dropped her hand and tried to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

“Miri should decide which painting she'd like restored next.” The words gushed out in a breathless rush.

He opened his mouth as if to argue.

“She's right,” Miri said, then pointed to an acrylic of a fishing boat tied in its slip. “That one. Then I can have the memories of Jack's mistress without the expense of keeping her afloat.”

Jessie thought she saw Logan flinch. But he pivoted too quickly for her to be sure. Eyebrows raised, she glanced at Miri. “His mistress?”

“Jack loved that boat. He spent more hours with her than he did me. I sold it after he died. Logan's almost convinced I want it back. But I don't. The memories we made on the
Holy Jackerel
are best kept right where they are.” She tapped her temple.

Logan returned with the boat picture. “I'll drop this one off at the restorer's tomorrow.” Then his blue gaze pinned Jessie. “Be ready for your kayaking lesson at 8:00 a.m.”

He strode out the front door before she could protest that she had no intention of spending the morning with him.

* * *

L
OGAN
DELIBERATELY
ARRIVED
thirty minutes early, hoping to catch Jessie at whatever it was she did to fund her expensive accommodations. Bobbing in his kayak, he held on to a dock cleat and scanned the property from the water. The only sign of life was a trio of deer rustling in the vegetation growing alongside the fence—probably the ones in her painting. There were no lights on in the house, and the only car on the grounds was her rental.

He tied up then made his way down the length of the pier. If she was looking out a window there was no way she'd miss his approach, but he didn't see any movement behind the glass. Dew covered the sedan's paint and the hood was cool. It hadn't been driven recently. There were no other tire tracks in the crushed shells.

He climbed the stairs, his rubber-soled water shoes nearly silent on the treads, and looked through the windows as he traversed the long deck. No movement. No people. No Jessie. He knocked on the back door. She peeked warily out from the bedroom wing then slowly crossed the den and opened the door. The sight of her in her swimsuit hit him with a visceral punch that took him aback—he saw dozens of women in skimpier suits every day. Then he spotted the pepper spray in her fist.

He raised his hands and hit her with his most engaging smile. “Don't shoot. I'm unarmed.”

Her gaze flicked to the manila envelope he held then returned to his eyes. “You're early.”

“Current worked with me.” He lowered his arms.

“I didn't have your number or I'd have called and told you I can't go. I have to run errands today.”

“I'm taking you to No Name Key so you can get this kind of detail in your next picture.” He offered his ticket to success. There was no way she'd refuse to accompany him when she saw what he'd done for her.

Brow pleated, she took the manila envelope, peered suspiciously inside then extracted the eight-by-ten photographs. Her breath caught. “My deer picture! How did you get this?”

“I kept the buyer's name and number. When I heard you tell Miri you hadn't made a copy of it, I asked them to let me take a photograph. They've also agreed to let you borrow the original and get it professionally scanned by a fine art printer if you'll do it before their daughter leaves town.”

He'd prepared for several reactions, like quivering lips and eyes filling with gratitude, but tears hadn't made the list. She blinked furiously and ducked her head as she shuffled through the remaining photos of the art currently hanging at the Widow. A droplet splashed onto her chest and rolled down the slope of her breast. “Thank you.”

Her choked-up voice pricked him with a twinge of guilt. He hadn't done it for her. He forced his eyes away from that tear. “No problem. Let's go.”

Refusal replaced her thankful expression. “Look, Logan, it's really nice of you to offer, but I have things I need to do today.”

She couldn't say no. If she did, how would he find out more about her? He planned to get her to relax over the next couple of hours, then at some point she'd slip up like she had last night when she'd told the waitresses about college and given him something to utilize in a background search.

“If you're not going, then
you
have to call and tell Miri. She was in the kitchen at five concocting some new recipes she wants us to test on our outing.”

She bit her lip and shifted from one bare foot to the other. “She was?”

“You should feel honored. I'm usually her only guinea pig.”

Indecision flickered in her eyes. And that damned tear still glistened on the swell of her breast. He hoisted his gaze upward again and silently cursed his distraction.

“The picnic basket is loaded and waiting. Miri sent her life jacket for you, and you can borrow my camera. There are some pretty cool things to see on No Name.”