Crimes of the Heart (2 page)

The attorney’s presence at his side was both annoying and comforting. At least Devon had one ally in town.

Gil nodded to the object of their conversation. “It’s up to her to tell you, not me.”

She’s cut her hair.
He noticed the shoulder blade skimming length and mourned the absence of the waist long strands. Oh, how he enjoyed sliding his hands through the silky mass.

Shaking off the highly erotic memory, Devon glanced at Gil, saying, “You’re my lawyer, aren’t you? If you want more money then all you have to do is say so. But I expect to get some answers when I ask a question.”

A smile transformed the somber features of the man, clearly not taking offense at the command. “You sounded like your father just then. And I’ll tell you what I told him years ago, I’ll take on all the legal aspects for you, but no more. If you’ve got a personal agenda with someone, then you’ve got to do your own leg work, especially if I consider the other person a friend.”

Removing his hands from his pockets, Devon folded his arms over his chest. “Is that why you didn’t investigate Wainwright back then?”

Visibly bristling at that accusation, Gil nearly bellowed, “Good God, no! I handled the paperwork for the partnership as a favor to your father. Legally, I was bound to represent them both. I didn’t like it, but I did it.”

“That’s why you dropped Wainwright right after my father died, isn’t it?”

“I gave you more credit than to have to ask that question.”

Devon grinned. “Oh, I knew it already, otherwise I wouldn’t have hired you myself. I just wanted to hear someone else hated the bastard as much as I did.”

“I don’t think anyone could hate him more than you do, Devon.”

With that statement hanging in the air, Devon tuned in to the furious commotion taking place. Suddenly the bidding had reached its zenith and a tall, elderly woman smiled triumphantly as the dainty writing desk became hers.

Several objects came and went just as quickly and with just as much fervor. Jewel remained motionless. “Christ, how can she stand it?” Devon wondered out loud as he raked a hand through his hair, shuddering inwardly at the callous way her mother’s possessions were disposed of.

“If you look close enough, you’ll see she can’t.”

Narrowing his eyes, Devon sought out any sign in her demeanor that gave away her emotions. There, he’d seen her flinch and stiffen her shoulders ever so slightly as if shoring up her reserves for the next grave insult to her dead mother.

The announcement for the next item boomed over the squealing microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a lovely silver antique hair, comb, and mirrored tray set. Who’ll start the bidding at fifty dollars?”

Jewel’s hand shot up, the numbered paddle firmly grasped in her white-knuckled grip. Her abrupt action startled Devon.
She wants this one bad. So, why should I care? But I do.

“Fifty dollars from number forty on my right to start us off,” the auctioneer cried. “Do I have sixty?” At the middle-aged man in the corner who raised his paddle, the announcer pointed, and then said, “I’ve got sixty. Can I have seventy?” The woman who had bought the desk bid. “Seventy. How about eighty?”

Devon grew dizzy as the frantic bidding war bounced back and forth at an accelerated pace. The man dropped out at two hundred dollars, but the white-haired lady challenged Jewel at every turn.

Silent until now, Gil said in an aside, “She’s from out of town or she’d have refused to bid against Jewel.”

Half-hearing the muttered words, Devon asked, “Huh?”

“Everyone who lives in town hasn’t bid at all on this item. The only reason I can figure is because they want Jewel to have it. They may not say it or show it, but they know the raw deal she got from the son-of-a-bitch. And they truly like her.”

Stunned wonder filled Devon. No one had ever done anything like that for him before. Well, Jewel… He stopped that thought as quickly as it formed. He jerked his head to the other woman. “And her?”

“Probably a regular auction goer who saw the notice in the papers. Looks like she may win this one, too.”

The man conducting the event yelled out, “We’ve got four hundred from the lady to my left. What about you, number forty, do I have four twenty five?”

Slowly, Jewel shook her head and dropped her hand to her lap. Dejection was in every line of her slumped shoulders. Something twisted inside Devon. The majority of the crowd moaned as if they shared Jewel’s pain.

“Well, now, four hundred going once…going twice…” He dragged it out.

Devon stepped forward, saying, “Five hundred dollars!”

A collective gasp rose up from the attendees.

He ignored them all, all except Jewel as she whipped her head around to face him. It felt as if a mule had kicked him in his gut, robbing him of air. He read the suffering in her eyes at the proceedings taking place and the shock of his boldness. But her beauty shook him to his core. She’d far exceeded his dreams of how she’d look when he saw her again, ripping him in two and propelling him back in time when he’d had the privilege of holding her close and making her his.
I wish I could do the same right now.

Loud coughing over the microphone jarred him back to the present. “Sir, do you have a number? Did you register to bid today?”

He couldn’t take his gaze off of Jewel. “No.”

“Then I’m sorry, but you can’t participate—”

“The hell I can’t!” That earned Devon more flabbergasted noises and several protests to boot.

A hand descended on his shoulder, squeezing hard with a warning. “Let me handle this, Devon.”

Twisting back briefly to look at his lawyer, Devon said under his breath, “I thought you said as my attorney you only took care of my legal concerns.”

“Ah…I’ll make an exception this one time.”

“Forget it, Gil. I’ll do it my way.”

“You always did, so why should I expect different now?” He heard the smile in Gil’s voice, and then felt the pressure of the lawyer’s hand slip away.

To the head honcho, Devon directed his next words. “I’m bidding on behalf of the lady here.” He nodded to Jewel and she paled considerably. “I’m prepared to go as high as necessary in order to buy the set for her. Any more questions?”

The flustered man cleared his throat. “No, none at all. We’ve got five hundred going once, going twice, sold,” he rushed out, bringing the gavel down hard and ending any further discussion from the clearly stunned audience.

Heat burned in Jewel’s cheeks as she rose, leaving the numbered paddle in her seat. Making mumbled pardons to the people in her aisle, she quickly stepped over their feet, nearly tripping twice in her haste. Finally, she gained her freedom and walked with determined strides to her car parked among a group of others on the lawn.
Don’t let anyone suspect how upset you are.

“Jewel, wait up.” Devon’s rich voice strummed along her nerve endings.

Halting at her rundown blue car, she turned slowly as she cursed herself for coming here today, for wanting to preserve a piece of her mother and her past. He stopped a foot away, jamming his hands in his pockets, something she recalled him doing numerous times while growing up. Maybe the Devon she once knew hadn’t completely vanished after all.

She couldn’t help but take in the man he had become. Tanned, powerfully built, sophisticated, ruthless. She read the last hard quality in his cold, penetrating gaze. A sinking sensation rippled through her.
He’s come back to play out his revenge.

Gulping hard, she shook off the acute awareness that buzzed between them. Jewel broke the charged silence by calling up her anger. “If you intended to humiliate me, you did a good job.”

He reared back as if punched. “Well, it’s nice to see you again, too. Oh no, don’t even think of thanking me for buying the set for you.”

A pang of remorse tugged in her middle. He’d bought that precious link to her mother for her. But the independent streak she’d worked hard at claiming these last years resurfaced now. “I don’t accept charity, from you or anyone else, Devon Marshall.”

He patted the battered hood of her car, producing a metal ping. “Obviously not.”

His sarcasm cut her to the quick. What did he know about her life? Who had told him? Gil? She could feel more color creep into her face. Sticking out her chin, she raised her head high. A hollow ache throbbed behind her ribs as she encountered his mesmerizing green eyes. Conflicting emotions chased across them, and then disappeared just as quickly.
What had he been thinking just then?

Grabbing ahold of herself, Jewel jerked her gaze away, trying to regulate her breathing pattern once again. “Why are you here?”

“For the auction, of course.”

“To gloat, you mean.”

He shifted, resting his hip on the fender of her car. “Maybe for him. But, never for you. Jesus, Jewel, what happened? He used to give you everything you ever wanted. Hell, I remember when five hundred dollars was chump change to the Wainwrights.”

“And a fortune to the Marshalls. So why should you care?” Her thoughts popped out of her mouth and she had no time to censor them.

Refusing to look directly at him and succumb to the magnetic power he still held over her, Jewel sensed his interest as the heat of his long, lazy perusal stroked her in places no man had touched in years. She bit back on the moan that threatened to escape her throat. If only she could forget Devon’s caresses and how he’d brought her to life. Briefly, she glanced up at him.

Shooting her a wry grin, he said, “Curiosity maybe, even a warped sense of responsibility for what I might have been able to do for you if I’d known, whatever you want to call it, I’d just like to know.”

“Responsibility?” An odd fluttering shot through her middle. Did he know? No, he couldn’t or that would have been the first thing he asked about. She’d been granted a temporary reprieve.

Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “Yeah, maybe if I’d have convinced you to go away with me…”

A sudden gust of wind lifted his hair and she longed to brush it back in place. The breeze brought the clean scent of him to her. She clamped her eyes shut for a moment, willing herself to hang onto the here and now and not be transported back in time, a time when he had been her world.

She picked up on what he couldn’t finish. “Don’t you see, Devon, it didn’t matter how much you pleaded with me to go away with you. My place was always here. And yours was to get rich. We both knew you couldn’t accomplish that here.”

“Your father saw to that.” Bitterness vibrated in his voice.

“You were always searching for something else.”
Searching for something that was just out of your grasp. Something I wouldn’t be,
it hurt to admit it to herself.
And all I ever wanted was for you to love me. But you couldn’t, at least not the way I needed to be loved. For myself.

He shoved away from the car. “That’s not what you said that night. You stayed because this poor boy couldn’t give you what your family could. The comfort. The ease. The
money.
”

She blanched at how callous it sounded.
I did too good of a job.
“It wasn’t like that.”

“No?” He stepped closer. His anger simmered just below the surface, giving off a wave of heat that nearly suffocated her with its intensity.

Shaking her head she could only wonder what would happen next. She couldn’t very well tell him the real reason why she’d remained behind. Not now, anyway. In time, if he hangs around. He won’t stay. Devon Marshall always leaves.

He wrapped his hands around her upper arms. Jewel felt the fiery imprint of his flesh clear through her thin lavender sweater, searing her to the core. Her body strummed to life, remembering his touch.

“You take the cake, lady. Even after all this time you’re still denying it, aren’t you? Either you’re trying to convince yourself of it or you’re still playing the naïve little rich girl. But, by the looks of it, you’re not rich anymore.”

Clinging to sheer willpower, Jewel bit out, “Oh, and I suppose you are.”

“That’s right,
dollface
, I am.”

He released her. She reached for the side of the car to steady her quaking legs. The cool metal beneath her palm did nothing to comfort her.
Dollface
, he used to call her that as a term of endearment, but just now it sounded more like a curse word.

Frowning at what he’d told her, she recalled her mother’s warning,
rich men only want to hold their power over your head and manipulate you just as your father does to everyone.

A shiver of unease slivered down her spine. Without even having to think about it she sensed Devon’s mission.

“So you came back to flaunt it in everyone’s face and rub their noses in it, didn’t you? The bastard child makes good, is that how you want people to see you?” She cringed at how vicious she sounded even to her own ears.
He brings out the worst in me.

He stiffened, growing remote.

In a daze, she said, “It’s true then.”

“I’m here to get back my father’s reputation and the respect he deserves.” A muscle jumped along his clenched jaw.

A knot of dread formed in her belly. She gulped hard, trying to swallow the rising bile bubbling to her throat. “How long are you in town for?” she asked in a hoarse whisper as her mind whirled with the possibility he might stay long enough to uncover her secret.

“For as long as it takes.”

The bottom dropped out of Jewel’s world as she stared up into a face so dear to her. The same features, only on a miniature scale, I look into every day. The son I adore, the son Devon doesn’t know we had together.

Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since Devon’s confrontation with her and yet he still failed to shake the image of Jewel Wainwright from his mind. Unfinished business, he figured as she’d occupied his musings thousands of occasions through the years.

He inserted the pitchfork in a pile of damp, stale hay in the vacant horse stall. Gathering a heap of the musty straw, Devon tossed it into the nearby wheelbarrow.