All They Ever Wanted (21 page)

Gavin swore as he changed the channel to ESPN. “Don't listen to that bimbo, Miles. She doesn't know what she's talking about.”

His brother's placating words weren't effective in this instance. Tanya Sheppard was likely correct about second chances. Miles knew he could count on his hometown to overlook whatever his father had done in the past, but his involvement with the daughter of the man who'd ripped so many people off would be a harder sin for voters to overlook.

A knock sounded at the door, followed by Will strolling into the loft wearing some sort of harness on his chest. A soft wail echoed off the high ceiling and the dog began sniffing at Will's chest.

“What is that you have on?” Gavin asked. “And is there something alive in it?”

Will rolled his eyes. “It's a Baby Björn, and yes, my daughter is in here.” He gently jostled the contraption and the wailing faded to heavy breathing. “She's a bit colicky so we thought we'd go for a walk. The movement soothes her.”

“You sure she's not suffocating from your stench?” Gavin teased.

Will's face was impassive as he glared at his best friend. “If she's a bit fussy, it's because we had to traverse a swarm of media just to get inside the building.” Still, he peeked in on his daughter, presumably just to make sure. “They looked like they're going to settle in for the night.”

“Fuck 'em,” Miles said. He took another pull from the bottle of beer.

Gavin exchanged a look with Will before getting to his feet. “Why should Deputy Lovell have all the fun tonight? I'll go scare them off. If I'm not back by morning, assume the vultures ate me.”

Will chuckled. “If you're not back by morning, we'll assume you're reliving the days when you snuck into Ginger's room at the B and B.” He made his way over to the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator.

“Make sure he doesn't give that to the baby, Miles. Come on, Midas, let's go scare the paparazzi.”

“You okay?” Will asked once Gavin and his dog were out the front door.

With a heavy sigh, Miles leaned his head back against the
leather sofa he was sitting on. “I'm pretty sure this is what a quarterback feels like when you blindside them.”

“Nah.” Will paced around the room, jiggling the baby each time she whimpered. “When I hit a quarterback, he's usually sipping through a straw for several days. You're handling that beer just fine.”

“The funny thing is, she tried to warn me off. I just couldn't seem to help myself.”

“I told you before, you can't always fight chemistry. Or your heart.”

Miles sprung off the couch. “And I told you, my heart was never engaged here. It was just a fling.”

“Really?” Will asked. “If that's the case, then why are you up here licking your wounds and not downstairs spinning this with the media?”

“Screw you!”

“Hey, I let the first one slide, but try and watch your language in front of the baby.”

Miles kept his back to Will and his now quiet daughter. Staring out the large window behind Gavin's drafting desk, he peered off toward the point at the end of Main Street where the shore met the Atlantic. A buoy bobbed in the darkness, its light blinking to warn sailors of the rocky shore. Too bad Miles hadn't paid attention to the very clear warning signs Lori had thrown off. It was unfair to blame her. He was angry at himself for being so blind with lust. And he was angry at Lori for being Mallory Dykstrom.

“You asked me about my marriage with Julianne,” Will said softly. Miles turned to find him slumped on the sofa, the little pink baby asleep on his massive chest. “Desire to possess our son—and Julianne—led me to do some crazy things. To believe some crazy things. I never considered that there was another side to the story. Another perspective that was so different from what I believed, yet that was also correct.” He stroked his fingers over the wispy hair on the baby's head. “People you love disappoint you, Miles. Hell, I'm sure your mother could give you a whole dissertation on that subject
right now. But that doesn't mean that your father or Julianne or Lori didn't do what they did for a really good reason. Don't you owe it to her to find out what that reason might be?”

Miles snorted. “Greed probably tops the list.”

“You're a better judge of character than that.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Will had a disgusted look on his face. “You've slept with the woman. More than once, if the cocky grin you've been wearing the past few weeks is any indication. You both looked different afterwards—transformed and relaxed. I haven't seen you like that since Justine.” Anguish coursed through Miles but Will held up a hand when Miles opened his mouth to speak. “Fine, I won't go there, but your crap detector is more finely honed than anyone else I know. You believed in Lori. And not just with your crotch. Every fiber of you believed in her. All I'm saying is that there's a chance she could be the person you thought her to be. There's no reason to beat yourself up until you know for sure.”

Gavin and Midas reappeared. “Bernice is driving them all away with her bad coffee,” Gavin joked. “Coy just arrived and he looks like he just flunked out of hell week in his fraternity. I told them all you went back to Raleigh. Cassidy hid your car over at the old house. That should throw them off the trail for the night. They were packing up and heading to the station house to join the media throng there. Luckily, people are more interested in Leonard Dykstrom's daughter than in you right now.”

“Somehow, I don't feel very lucky,” Miles muttered as he turned back to the window. In fact, he was convinced his luck had run out hours ago.

*   *   *

“Blech,” Matt said after taking a sip from the Styrofoam cup. “What I wouldn't give for some Starbucks dark roast.” He took another swallow before setting it back down on the table. Lori and the FBI agent were crammed in the small interrogation room at the Chances Inlet sheriff's office. If she had to guess,
it was getting close to midnight, yet there was still a larger than usual crowd milling about the station house. She suspected they'd all come to catch a glimpse of her.

“If you left now, I'm sure you can grab a cup in New York before morning.”

Matt tipped the chair he was sitting in onto its back legs and leaned his head against the cinderblock wall. “Nice try, Mal, but I can wait the twenty-four hours before Sheriff Robin Hood has to release you. Then we can get a cup of coffee together, just like old times.”

They'd first met in a Starbucks on Manhattan's west side. It was late on a hot August afternoon and she'd stopped in to grab a caramel Frappuccino, hoping the drink would reenergize her for the long evening she had ahead. Matt had bumped into her, spilling an iced coffee on her dress. In hindsight, she realized the scenario had been a ploy to meet her. He'd insisted on paying for her dry cleaning, and after a few moments of his persistent charm, she'd forgotten she'd been miffed at him in the first place. When she ran into him at a gala later that evening, she'd thought it was serendipitous. Little did she know their chance encounter had also been premeditated.

Matt told her he worked as an accountant for an international construction firm that was rebuilding the World Trade Center. He was interesting, fun-loving, and good-looking. Best of all, he wasn't one of the stuffed suits her father always seemed to be foisting her way. They'd dated casually for a few months, often meeting at her restaurant/bakery after it closed in the evening. Matt seemed genuinely interested in her work, he enjoyed her cooking, and he was always willing to help with any problem that came up.

That last part proved to be her downfall.

Taking a large swallow from the bottle of water Sheriff Hollister had given her when they arrived, Lori glared at Matt. “I'm fine with my water, thanks.”

He closed his eyes, still leaning up against the wall. “I know you hate me, but it could have all gone down differently.”

Lori slammed the water bottle down onto the table. “The only way it could have ‘all gone down differently' is if I hadn't
trusted you.” When she'd begun to suspect her father, she'd stupidly asked
her friend
, Matt the accountant, to take a look at the books. She'd been a naive sap who'd played right into the FBI's hands. “I'm sure you and your special agent friends enjoyed a good laugh at how gullible I was.”

He lifted the lid of one eye. “That's not what I'm talking about, Mal. And for what it's worth, I always had the utmost respect for you. I still do.”

“Don't bother, Matthew, because the feeling is not mutual.”

The legs of the chair slammed down onto the concrete floor and the table shook when Matt thumped his elbows down. His green eyes were agitated and his mouth was set in a grim line.

“Why did you do it?” he demanded.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. Lori was done confiding in Matthew Everett what's-his-name.

“Damn it, Mal, your father used you,” he snapped.

“Well, he wasn't the only one who used me, now was he?” she shouted at him.

Matt had the good grace to look away.

“And you can spare me the
I-was-just-doing-my-job
speech,” she said. “I really don't want to hear it.”

Sheriff Hollister poked his head in the room. “Everything okay in here?” He directed his gaze and his question at Lori, not bothering to look at the FBI agent.

Lori nodded.

“Are you going to book her or not, Sheriff?” Matt asked.

“Do you have that warrant yet?” the sheriff countered.

Matt swore under his breath as he checked his phone.

“You don't have to answer any of his questions without an attorney,” the sheriff said. “We just got word that a team is headed down here from New York. They've asked that you not be questioned in either case without them present.”

Lori nearly groaned out loud. The “team” was made up of her father's associates. They were tools, all of them. None of whom she'd trust to represent her for jaywalking, much less eighty-five counts of fraud. But she could use them just as well as she'd been used in this little drama.

“Well, I guess this is good night then, Matthew.” She stood up.

Matt was on his feet at the same time. “Why did you do it, Mallory? You tipped your father off. I just want to know why.”

Nausea rolled through her stomach. The sheriff stiffened beside her. He hadn't anticipated that last gem of information. Truth be told, neither had she until she'd actually done it.

She shook her head and Matt sucked in a breath. “Then I hope your boyfriend and the sheriff here can protect you, Mal, because unless you tell me the truth, I can't help you.”

“I asked you to help me before and look where that got me.” Lori spread her arms out as if to say “this.” “I won't misplace my trust in you again.”

Patricia was waiting outside the small jail cell. She pulled Lori into a tight hug.

“You shouldn't be here,” Lori said despite the fact she didn't want Patricia to let her go. “You shouldn't be seen associating with me. The B and B is your livelihood, your dream, and I destroyed its reputation by staying. I'm so sorry for everything.”

“
Pfft.
” Patricia laughed. “Are you kidding? Cassidy has been on social media all evening. She has us completely booked until October. Folks want an up close and personal look at where the scandal took place. Some are even requesting that they stay in your room.”

Lori hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to know the answer to her next question. She asked it anyway. “And Miles? How is he?”

Patricia seemed to be considering her words. “Tanya is doing a number on him in the media, but she's been after him from the get-go. I'm not going to lie, she's making him look like a fool.”

“You have to tell them the truth,” Lori pleaded. “Or let me talk to Tanya. I'll tell her.”

The look Patricia gave her was laced with pity. “I don't think that would be a good idea.”

Tears of frustration leaked out of Lori's eyes as she nodded.

“What is the truth, Lori?” Patricia asked softly. “Can you at least tell me what the truth is behind your relationship with Miles?”

Lori tried to compose herself by taking a deep breath. “Your son is a good man. He's compassionate and driven to do great things.” She swallowed. “Miles is dedicated to his family and to his principles. I respect that in him. He doesn't deserve to have his future destroyed by someone like me. If I could go back and do it again, I would have left after that first night.”

Patricia brushed Lori's hair back off her face. “You love him that much?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I know I shouldn't. But I do.”

S
lipping out of his brother's loft at daybreak, Miles made his way down to the beach for a much-needed run. Sleep had evaded him all night and he was hoping a quick jog would calm his racing nerves. The night before, Gavin and Will had made arrangements to go with him—just in case the media was still lurking about—but Miles didn't want to listen to any more of his brother's teasing or Will Connelly's philosophical blubbering on love. He wanted to be alone with his own turbulent thoughts.

He wondered how Lori—
Mallory, damn it!
—was faring. Had the FBI agent already whisked her off to New York? Or had Lamar's delay tactics worked?

The sheriff's actions had surprised Miles. The FBI agent hadn't been wrong when he'd reminded Lamar who elected him. Lots of people in Chances Inlet had taken his brother Ryan's endorsement of Dykstrom's investment to heart. The irony was that Ryan had no idea what he'd been investing in. It was his crooked agent who'd faked the endorsement. Ryan was as much a victim as the rest of those caught up in the Ponzi scheme.

Miles kicked at a strand of seaweed that had washed
ashore. The sun was rising over the ocean, painting the water a bright orange. Seagulls and pelicans were dive-bombing the surf in search of breakfast. Dawn was always Miles' favorite time of the day; a time when new possibilities still seemed endless. Today, however, only controversy loomed. He needed to right his campaign and that included damage control where his personal life was concerned. Yesterday morning's dilemma seemed mild compared to what he'd been embroiled in last night. Dealing with Faye Rich and refusing an engagement with Greer Rossi had taken a backseat to handling the character explosion that resulted from his relationship with Lori. The carefully worded press release he and Bernice had crafted the previous afternoon would need to be revised to address this morning's headlines. The problem was, Miles had no idea what he wanted to say.

His only coherent thought was that he was going to have to tread carefully and not appear to be a hypocrite. For months now, he'd been espousing campaign rhetoric about how he would defend against the lowlife who would take advantage of innocent people by luring them into fake investments. The elderly at the senior center had anointed him their champion on the matter and how did he repay their trust? By sleeping with a woman who took part in one of the most abhorrent schemes in the books. Miles forcefully kicked another glob of seaweed. She'd duped him just like she'd duped everyone else.

There's a chance she could be the person you believed her to be.

Will's words had been tormenting Miles all night. Did she have a reason for doing what she did? Or was that just wishful thinking so that he could absolve himself for being a horny idiot and getting involved with her in the first place?

Not finding the answers he was looking for on the beach, Miles made his way back to his brother's loft and showered. Thirty minutes later, he slid into his father's comfortable leather chair hoping for some divine intervention. Instead, all he got was an interruption.

“It would be nice if your brother was a little more forthcoming with your whereabouts, Miles.” Coy stormed into the room,
bringing with him a cardboard tray of coffees from the Java Jolt and a sour disposition. “I was halfway to Raleigh when I got your text last night. Gavin may think it's funny to send me on a wild-goose chase, but I've got work to do. The wheels are coming off this campaign and it's going to take everything I've got to save it.”

Miles wanted to deck the little egomaniac, but he was suddenly distracted by Coy's companion. Greer was standing in the doorway, looking a little sheepish as she rolled her eyes at Coy's tirade. She'd never returned his phone calls from the day before, yet here she was, dressed in a conservative blue suit and an elegant strand of pearls, looking for all the world as if nothing had changed.

“How are you?” she asked.

“He's resilient,” Coy answered for him. “The finest politicians are made of Teflon. Nothing sticks to them.” He nodded to Greer. “Your father has one of the best suits of armor. Let's hope that translates to this guy, as well. If we can salvage this mess without anything sticking, you two will be well on your way to living in the White House one day.”

Coy busied himself with setting up his laptop on the opposite side of the desk. Greer gave Miles a demure grin, but she didn't bother to refute his statement. Miles swore under his breath.

“Greer, can I have a word with you?” Miles stood up from the desk. “In private.”

“No need,” Coy interjected. “Greer and I have worked on the preliminaries for the press conference you'll have this morning. We've scheduled it for ten. With luck, we can lure some of the national media circling the sheriff's office to come down here for some Q and A.”

“I've got an edit bay reserved in a postproduction studio in Wilmington for this afternoon,” Greer said. “If we work quickly, we can have new thirty-second spots up and ready to air tonight. At the very least, I'll be able to float them on the website before the national news. By the way, is there any chance Lori—I mean, Mallory—still has my watch?”

“The girl had her own vault at Tiffany's,” Coy mumbled.
“Clearly she's got a disease if she still felt the need to steal your watch.”

Indignation surged through Miles. “She didn't steal the watch,” he said through his tightly clenched jaw.

Greer looked at him curiously. “I thought she was arrested for stealing it?”

Miles tucked his chin to his chest in exasperation. “That was all just a smokescreen. She didn't steal anything.”

“Uh, she's facing eighty-five counts of fraud, Miles,” Coy said. “Whether or not she stole Greer's watch is just a technicality.”

“I said she didn't
steal
anything, Coy.”

There's a chance she could be the person you believed her to be.
Will's words rattled around in Miles' head.
Don't you owe it to her to find out what that reason might be?

Whatever Lori's reason was, Miles knew it was a good one. His chest tightened at the realization.

“You sound awfully convinced.” Greer crossed her arms over her chest in a move that was clearly defensive. It was the first signal she'd given that she was less than confident in her situation.

“I'm positive.”

“Well, get un-positive,” Coy ordered. “Our strategy paints Lori as a guilty, conniving seductress who threw herself at you in order to gain asylum if she was ever found out. We're even prepared to say she was blackmailing you into keeping her secret.”

“You can't be serious?” Miles felt as if he were grinding his teeth to dust.

“This is serious, Miles. Your campaign is tanking. You need to take action now before you get caught up in the tsunami of news coverage Mallory Dykstrom's arrest has brought with it. The media will run with just about anything involving her right now. She won't be in a position to refute it.”

Greer's face was impassive when Miles looked over at her. “Are you in on this?”

She drew her lips into a thin line. “I've told you numerous times that the first priority is to get you elected.”

Coy pulled two pieces of paper out of the printer and laid them on the desk in front of Miles. “Here are the prepared remarks. Greer will cut off any questions that might lead you to contradict your statement.”

Miles scanned the documents. Not only did the words on the pages vilify Lori, but they made him look like a total dick. He glanced up at Coy and Greer. “I'm not saying this.”

Greer sat down on the sofa with a huff.

“Jesus, Miles, presidents have admitted to more than you confess to here,” Coy argued.

Bernice strolled into the room, a plate of doughnuts in her hand. “Good morning, Mr. Candidate. I thought you'd be at it early so I brought you something to make the morning a little sweeter.” She winked at Miles.

He handed her the papers Coy had printed out. The tips of Bernice's ears turned pink as she read it. “Can you take care of that for me, Bernice?”

“My pleasure,” she said as she walked over to the shredder.

“Hey! I worked all night on that. You can't ignore this, Miles. You're going to have to address it. Face it, your numbers are taking a nosedive. Faye Rich's supporters have already jumped all over this.”

“Let them.”

Coy snapped his laptop closed. “Fine, if you don't want to go on the defensive, we'll just go on the attack. News of Faye Rich's teenage indiscretions will be of interest to the media coming to the press conference.”

“Oh, sweetie, I think you missed the boat on that one,” Bernice said. She pulled up Faye's campaign website on the desktop computer. The headline announced the disclosure of her teenage abortion. Miles' stomach was queasy just reading it. But he couldn't feel guilty. It would have likely come out sometime in the campaign. He took some consolation that she was able to prepare her family and get ahead of the story.

Coy unleashed a string of expletives that had Bernice red-faced again.

“You were my ticket, McAlister,” Coy hissed. “The up-and-coming Congressman who'd been practically green-lighted
into the White House by the party. They called you smart and upstanding, an all-American guy that the heartland would love. I've got news for you, Mr. Squeaky-Clean-Miles-McAlister: Nice guys don't finish first. It's the candidates who are willing to do what they need to do who get elected.” He shoved his laptop into his bag, nearly spilling the tray of coffee. “Good luck trying to ride your morals into the Capitol, Miles. I'm out of here.”

He stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

“If that boy had a lick of sense, he'd realize that Faye's admission actually just helped our campaign.” Bernice picked up a blueberry doughnut.

The corners of his mouth turned up at Bernice's use of the word “our.” He was in the race until the end, and if all he had was his hometown to carry him, so be it.

A phone rang in the front room and Bernice wandered off to answer it. Miles sank back down into the security of the leather chair.

“Let me help you, Miles,” Greer said softly.

“My image could use all the help it can get right now, Greer. But I'm not going to fall on my sword. I'm in this campaign for what I believe are the right reasons and I'm sticking to them. If you still want to help me, it's going to be on those terms.”

“I admire that about you, Miles. And you know how much I respect you.” She leaned forward, scooting to the edge of her seat. “We'd make a great team, you and I.”

“Jesus, Greer, you can't be proposing what I think you are.”

A pink flush spread over her face as she slumped back against the sofa. “Is it that horrible of an idea?”

She sounded a bit peeved and genuinely hurt. Miles moved from his father's chair to the leather sofa beside Greer. “Greer. You have to know that I respect you, too. I care what happens to you, but as a dear friend. That's why I can't go through with a marriage of political convenience.” He paused in an effort to search for the right words. “I've known a great love in my life. And there's nothing that beats that feeling. You deserve that, too. You deserve to spend the rest of your life
with someone who's going to revere you and not look at you as a political asset.”

Greer snorted. “Love is overrated, Miles. It can destroy you if you let it. Trust me.”

Miles' gut clenched. He'd had no idea that his friend might have suffered heartbreak like he had. He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers.

“My father has used me as a political pawn all of my life,” she said quietly. “Did you know I hate politics?”

He shot her an incredulous look.

“Mmm.” She smiled. “I hate everything involved with it. I only stay in the ‘family business' so that my mother and father will take me seriously. They never gave me the time of day when my documentaries were about real issues. It was only when I moved into the political image consulting business that they saw a use for their grown-up photo op.”

“And you thought marrying into politics just to appease them would make you happy? You can't live your life for your father, Greer.”

“If it's any consolation, you were the only one I actually considered. My father's other protégés are all . . .” She shivered, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken.

“Thanks, I think.” Miles gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Selling out to please Daddy seems to be the theme of the day.”

The media had been busy all morning, portraying Lori as a spoiled rich girl who'd do anything to win her father's affection. While Miles still couldn't quite square up that image with the woman he'd been sleeping with this past week, Greer's admission made the scenario seem more plausible. After all, he'd known the governor's daughter for nearly five years and he'd never suspected she'd been living a lie all this time.