Crazy Love (28 page)

The silence was more comfortable as they strolled toward the town square where a huge Ferris wheel could be seen over the treetops.

He cleared his throat, stopped and she silently cursed her new shoes, the soles skidding along the footpath. If he hadn’t been holding her hand she would’ve fallen flat on her arse.

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

Last check up, the doc had said her heart bordered on tachycardia. The way it was racing now, the quack could be right.

Will squeezed her hand. “We hardly know each other, but I want to change that.”

She added shortness of breath to her growing list of medical complaints.

He frowned a little. “At my age I have no idea if I’m interested in seeing someone. I’m stuck in my ways. I’m organized, efficient—”

“Anal.”

His eyebrows shot heavenward and she mentally booted herself up the arse, relieved when his compressed lips eased into a smile.

“I’m devoted to my job and not really interested in change.” He took a deep breath. “But if you want to take some time getting to know each other, maybe I can continue visiting after Marc returns to the city?”

His grip tightened on hers as if daring her to disagree.As if she would.

“Be my guest.”

An overnight one, preferably, and she almost giggled. It had been so long she wouldn’t know what to do.

“Good. Now that’s settled, take me to the fair.” His smile made her heart pound and for a moment she wondered if the palpitations had morphed into cardiac arrest. Damn, and before they’d got to any of the good stuff.

Weak knees? Pounding heart? She managed a feeble smile, thinking, “
I’m too old for this shite
,” and loving every minute of it.

Marc sipped his flat white and struggled not to grimace. Diner coffee wouldn’t be one of the things he missed about this town. Sierra was right; he was a coffee-snob and proud of it. If a man couldn’t get a decent Ristretto when he needed one, where was the justice?

Forcing down another sip, he saw Eric Grayson enter and wend his way around tables toward him. Little wonder the PI had taken so long to come up with anything. The wiry detective ambled at snail’s pace.

Eric’s phone call had promised information and Marc should’ve been ecstatic. Instead, he was strangely ambivalent about his save-mom-from-the-farmer quest now he knew Hank. The man was a decent, stand-up guy and treated his mom like a queen, which is what she deserved after putting up with George for so long.

Sierra had been right, had probably issued that challenge for him to stick around Love to get to know Hank for that very reason.

To give her credit she’d kept her end of the deal by stalling the wedding if his mom’s complaints were anything to go by but now he could leave town happy, secure in the knowledge his mom had made a wise choice.

“Marc.” Eric shook his hand before sliding into the booth opposite. “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. Drink?”

Eric shook his head. “Got work up to here.” He chopped at his neck. “Sorry about the delay, been snowed under the last week.”

Eric’s averted look-away raised Marc’s hackles. Eric had something to tell him and he didn’t look too thrilled about it.

“What did you come up with?”

Eric glanced around, as if ensuring their privacy and leaned forward. “This information is strictly confidential.”

“Right.”

Marc’s foreboding increased. Maybe he’d been celebrating too soon?

“Hank Stevens isn’t his real name.”

Shit. The guy had an alias?

“His name is Hank Steven Warner and he’s more than a farmer.”

More? Marc instantly imagined the worst. Drug lord? Brothel owner?

“Heard of Warner Haulage?”

“Yeah, they’re huge.”

“Biggest transport company in California. Owns farms from Imperial Valley to San Joaquin. You name it, those farms produce it. And package and transport. The whole kit and caboodle. Hank’s—”

“What are you two gossiping about?”

Flo thumped him on the back and Marc silently cursed his landlady’s poor timing. “We’re in the middle of something—”

Flo ignored him. “Hey Eric. Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s the spy business?”

Eric folded his arms and sat back, content to make small talk while Marc wanted answers, now.

“It’s not spying, it’s investigating.”

Marc had to intervene before his landlady launched into one of her long-winded conversations. “Flo, we really need to wrap up this meeting—”

“Investigating? Fancy term for sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

She cackled and waved Marc back when he opened his mouth to interrupt again. “Speaking of which, how do you two know each other?”

Marc shot Eric a warning glare. “Business. Something we need to get back to?”

Marc hoped his mustered innocence held up under the scrutiny of Flo’s suspicious stare.

“Better not be funny business.” She leaned over him. “Poking into matters that don’t concern you only ends in trouble. If you’re spying on Hank and Liv—”

“You have nothing to worry about.”

But he did, starting with discovering the true identity of the man his mom was betrothed to.

Casting one last, shrewd glare his way through narrowed eyes, Flo straightened. “Yell if you need anything.”

“Shall do…” Eric clamped his lips shut when Marc glanced at his watch and tapped its face.

He waited until Flo waddled away before slamming his palms on the table.

“I want answers. Now.”

Eric held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Warner Haulage? Hank’s the owner.”

What the…? Warner Haulage. Hank
Warner
.

No frigging way.

“Yep, our Hank’s successful. I’ve collated the details in a full report back at the office. Just need to print it off.”

Stunned, Marc shook his head. “You’re sure about this?”

Eric stood. “I know my job. You wanted information, I got it for you.”

“Thanks.”

Marc shook Eric’s hand in a daze, relieved his soon-to-be stepfather wasn’t involved in a drug cartel, annoyed his mom and Sierra hadn’t told him.

They’d let him make a fool of himself when a simple word about Hank’s identity would’ve sent him on his way. With Sierra’s warped logic she’d probably wanted to teach him a lesson and his mom had been in on it.

“I’ll drop by the office, pick up that report and settle my account.”

Eric nodded. “Fine. Remember the info’s classified? Hank values his privacy.”

Marc couldn’t fault him there. “No worries. Thanks.”

Eric left and Marc asked a waitress for a refill. Showed how stunned he was by Eric’s revelation, needing a top up of diner coffee.

He owed Hank an apology for doubting him.

As for the two most important women in his life, he needed to have a little chat with both.

Hank had a plan. Cook lunch for Liv and once they’d finished, drop his bombshell over their traditional cup of tea with Mozart playing in the background. It seemed the perfect plan until the phone rang.

Olivia answered, listened briefly, before handing him the receiver with a resigned roll of her eyes. “It’s for you. Tad McKennie. Says it’s important.”

“Hell,” he muttered, taking the receiver and wondering what had gone wrong now.

He’d traveled to the Imperial Valley farms several times over the last week, personally overseeing employee relations thanks to a rogue manager. He’d thought everything was sorted. He’d thought wrong.

“Hank, you better get out here pronto. Looks like the entire staff on Scott’s farm are ready to walk out and we’ve got that massive avocado order to fill.”

Hank glanced across the kitchen to where Liv sat, toying with the steak on her plate. “Can’t you handle it?”

“Sorry. The employees won’t speak to anyone but you.”

He rubbed his forehead in the hope to stave off a blinder of a headache. The avocado contract was worth millions, though the money wasn’t the primary issue. He valued his workers and if they were ready to walk, work relations at Scott’s farm had to be disastrous.

“I’ll leave straight away. Be there soon as I can.”

“Good. I’ll try and keep the peace ‘til then.”

Hank hung up and turned to Liv. Her stony expression chilled him. He’d left her in the lurch several times recently and looked like she was tiring of it. He hoped she’d understand once she learned the truth. Unfortunately, that would have to wait for now.

“Liv, I—”

“Have to go. I heard.”

He crossed the kitchen, knelt beside her chair, grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Sorry, love. I’ll fix the problem and be back as soon as I can.”

“What problem?”

She hadn’t questioned him before, content to accept when he had to go to the Valley on farming business. Not that he could blame her. He’d be downright suspicious if she scooted off on
business
every other day.

“Tell you all about it when I get home. Promise.” He kissed her full on the mouth, saddened by her lack of response. “Sorry about lunch.”

She stood and crossed to the sink with a mumbled, “Hmm,” and it took all his willpower not to sweep her into his arms and take her into the bedroom, lock the door and make love to her, so he could hold her in his arms afterward and spill the truth.

“Just go.”

She refused to look at him and he hoped to God she wasn’t crying.

“Liv, I love you.”

He squashed his Stetson on his head, picked up his keys and headed out the door, cursing his business for interrupting what promised to be the most important speech of his life.

Though it wasn’t a total disaster. He’d fix the problem at the farm and be back home later tonight, when he’d tell her everything.

He’d ring Eric, get him to hold off telling Marc until tomorrow and everything would be fine.

As Hank started the SUV and headed down the long, winding drive, he didn’t see Liv staring at him from the back window, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Sierra cradled her coffee mug while scanning the front page of the LA Times. She hadn’t had a spare moment recently and taking a few minutes to read the newspaper was a luxury.

She’d had fun showing Marc the sights at Love Fest. He’d joined in with gusto, his ability to let loose surprising her. He’d changed so much since he’d first come to town, the uptight, arrogant persona replaced by a guy she laughed with, a guy she sparred with, a guy she was falling in love with.

It wasn’t purely physical, though they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They’d been sprung yet again, this time by Belle, and the memory of her two closest friends’ expressions each time they’d witnessed more than they’d bargained for made her half-smile, half-grimace.

From his eagerness to talk about the future at the festival, she assumed they’d continue their relationship. While they hadn’t talked logistics yet, he’d given her the boxed nightgown when he’d dropped her off with a “We’ll talk about this later,” accompanied by a sizzling kiss that made her float into the house.

Her smile broadened, the smug, self-satisfied smile of a woman secure in the knowledge she had a special guy in her life.

She flipped the page and her smile slipped as she spied Marc’s picture in the top right hand corner next to the headline “CEO LOVES AN ACQUISITION.”

She read the article, written by a Jeff Rodgers, and froze.

“
Wheel ‘em and deal ‘em tycoon Marc Fairley, CEO of acquisitions company A-Corp, has been missing in action the last week. Rumors have been circulating in financial circles to explain the reasons behind his absenteeism, all ill founded. The CEO is hard at work, intent on securing another deal, with his sights set on Love Byte, California’s popular Internet dating site.

Love Byte, an online dating agency, has its headquarters in a town aptly named Love, situated an hour south of LA. Marc Fairley has been in Love for a week, getting a foothold in the company that will take A-Corp to the top.

Looks like Marc ‘Midas’ Fairley, the man with the golden touch, is set to make his next squillion, which proves that good things do happen to those in Love
.”

The article couldn’t have been bigger than a few square inches yet for Sierra it seemed like the print took up an entire page, leaping out to slap her in the face every time she glanced at the paper in horror.

It couldn’t be true.

Marc cared about her.

He couldn’t fake the connection they shared.

Yet there it was, laid out in black and white.

It made perfect sense. Come to town on the pretense of seeing his mom; stick around to get the lowdown on her company before buying it out from right under her nose. The prick.

Jeez, he must be laughing. While getting a stranglehold on her business he’d got a stranglehold on her heart too. And sex to boot.

Oh yeah, City Boy must be splitting his sides. Which was good, considering she was about to split his head open to match.

“Bastard.” She screwed the newspaper in a tight ball and flung it across the room, wishing she’d never laid eyes on him.

She should’ve listened to her conscience. All men were scum, apart from Hank who’d never lie like the rest of his male cohorts.

She should know better. She
did
know better. Which made it all the more difficult to accept.

“You’re toast, Slick,” she muttered, swiping angrily at the wasted tears streaming from her eyes as she picked up the wadded newspaper and headed out the door.

“You bastard.”

Sierra threw the balled newspaper in Marc’s face as he opened the door, pushing her way in without waiting for an invitation.

He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind, which she had the minute he’d set foot in her office.

She had to be crazy to think a guy like him would stick around for anything other than his own selfish reasons.

She’d been an idiot and would pay the ultimate price, losing her heart to a jerk that wouldn’t look back.

“If you didn’t like the nightgown you could’ve just told me,” he said, trying a tentative smile as he closed the door.

“Shut the hell up.”