Love by Association

She’d had to show him what a bad parent looked like. He didn’t bear even the remotest resemblance.

They’d had dinner. And sex.

Later that night, after sharing a nightcap with Julie, they’d made love again, in his bed. She’d fallen asleep in his arms.

She hadn’t woken up once all night long.

She was in too deep.

She’d awoken the next morning, had breakfast with Julie and Colin and then rushed to the resort to switch cars and get home to her apartment to scrub off the makeup, get her hair up into its ponytail, don old jeans and her work boots and get to the station.

She’d told Wayne that she had confirmation that Morrison was beating his wife. And had come clean with him about the news she’d heard from Max and discussed the plan that was in place for Saturday night.

He didn’t like her involving Leslie and Julie—two untrained civilians, not to mention victims—but when she’d remained adamant to the good it would do both of them to regain some personal honor, as well as the fact that there was no way anyone from outside their society was going to gain entrance that night without raising questions that could sabotage the entire operation—even the caterer was family—he’d finally conceded.

And, as she pointed out, if the plan worked, two hundred or more people, including the police commissioner, would be present.

And if it didn’t, no one except the four of them would know there’d even been a plan.

In the meantime, working so closely with Leslie was exactly what she’d been aiming for before beginning the undercover assignment. She was winning Leslie’s trust. If they were successful in bringing Smyth to justice, then she had every hope of convincing Leslie to trust the system to bring justice to her husband, as well.

If it didn’t, she and Leslie would have forged the friendship she needed to get inside the woman’s house, into her home life and find the evidence she needed to make it happen.

It was all coming to a head. And then a close.

She told herself she was glad.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

DINNER WAS BEING served at round tables set for six in the main lobby of the new Santa Raquel Public Library. Linen tablecloths, fresh flowers, Waterford china and sterling silver were all part of the gala affair.

Chafing dishes were on every table, allowing the patrons to serve themselves.

An hour before the doors would open, Colin surveyed the room. Everything looked perfect.

Julie and Leslie were in a room upstairs with Chantel, helping her get into costume. Some sexy outfit he had yet to see.

He’d dressed down for the evening in an old tweed jacket borrowed from a college theater department—so he’d been told—and brown pants bought off the rack and not tailored to his form. He was ready to play the part of down-on-his-luck, avaricious and greedy heir to the castle.

His sister came downstairs first.

“You look beautiful,” he told her, watching as she came toward him, her head held high. In a dark blue, strapless gown that hugged her slimness, she was wearing a diamond brooch their mother had left her.

“I feel beautiful.”

He didn’t know that he’d ever heard her say such a thing. But he was more and more open to the surprises she had in store for him.

A seventeen-year-old-kid had left him. He was eager to get to know the twenty-seven-year-old woman who was emerging.

“Leslie will be down in a minute,” she told him. “She and Chantel had some last-minute things to go over.”

“That surprise twist you three have been planning,” he said, grinning. They’d been like giddy kids, plotting to take their guests by surprise. They’d insisted that he be kept in the dark as well, because it played into the evening’s unraveling.

He knew who’d “done it,” of course. Just not exactly how the winner was going to reach that conclusion. There were several possible ways. The beauty of the evening was that no one would know until it happened.

Much like his own life was turning out. He didn’t know until it happened what was coming, but he was beginning to look forward to the possibilities.

“I’m thinking about asking Chantel to marry me.” He didn’t need Julie’s permission. Nor did he doubt her approval.

He was just caught up in her smile. In the miracle of having Julie fully alive again, even if just in bits and pieces. In the knowledge that Chantel would be sleeping in his bed that night.

And wanting her place there to be permanent.

He was embracing the concept of trust, if not fully indulging in it himself.

“What do you think?” he asked his little sister, who was standing there gaping at him.

“I... Not before tonight’s performance, right?” she asked. Inanely, he thought. It wasn’t like anything more than money rested on the night’s entertainment. The real event taking place was Julie’s first face-to-face appearance with David Smyth. And Leslie and Chantel’s support that was going to be with her all the way.