Dangerous Relations

By

Uncial Press       Aloha, Oregon
2012

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are
products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-145-5
ISBN 10: 1-60174-145-6

Dangerous Relations
Copyright © 2012 by Marilyn Levinson

Cover design
Copyright © 2012 by Judith B. Glad

All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in
whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter
invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the
FBI and is punishable by up to five (5) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Published by Uncial Press,
an imprint of GCT, Inc.

Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

The ringing doorbell jarred Ardin Wesley out of her deep slumber. She sprang from
the borrowed cot, her heart pounding like a pneumatic drill.
Oh, God, Corey forgot his
key!
Now he'd be angry--drunk and angry--and come after her, fists flying.

The bell rang again, pulling her back to the reality of the here-and-now.
Breathe
deeply. Corey won't hurt you ever again. He has a new wife to knock about. Other matters on his
mind.
He'd shown up at her cousin's funeral, teary-eyed and grief-stricken, putting proof
to the buzz that he and Suziette had been carrying on hot and heavy was no rumor at
all.

Ardin was struggling into her old flannel bathrobe when a third ring, sharp and insistent,
sent her running to the door of her mother's apartment.

"Who's there?" She peered through the peephole. Her heart continued to race, but to a
lighter, happier beat when she recognized the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Brett
Waterstone.

She opened the door. "Brett, what are you doing here?" It was only when her cousin's
widower stood towering over her that she remembered he might very well be Suziette's
murderer.

"Are you all right?" he said. "I was beginning to worry when you didn't answer. I knew you
were here. Spotted your car as I was parking."

With the easy grace of a baseball player, Brett strode into the living room, empty except for
a few cartons and her father's old desk, which she was bringing home to Manhattan. Curly black
hair and green eyes set off the strong, even features she had adored when they were kids. But
tonight his hair and clothing were disheveled, his eyes bloodshot as they studied her face.

"I was dead to the world," Ardin said, suddenly self-conscious of her own unkempt
appearance, of her poor choice of words. "I've been looking after Aunt Julia since early this morning.
I made my getaway the minute the last guest stepped out the door."

Ardin tucked a strand of ash-blonde hair behind her ear and hoped she didn't look totally
washed out as she wasn't wearing a trace of makeup, but Brett didn't seem to notice.

"I
am
sorry! I should have realized you'd go straight to bed after all you've
been through today." He glanced down at his watch. "Jeez, it's after ten. I had no idea of the
time. I've been driving around thinking, when it dawned on me you're the person I need to
talk to."

He hesitated. Ardin knew she had only to say the word and he'd leave, but she was moved
by the anguish in his eyes.

"Let's sit down." She gestured to her mother's ancient dinette set next to the galley-style
kitchen.

Their fingers touched as he moved past her, causing her heart to thump inside her chest.
From his startled expression, she knew he'd felt the jolt of electricity as well. He turned his head to
conceal his embarrassment. And no wonder, she told herself. His wife had been buried twelve hours
ago.

"This set's as old as I am," she said to fill the growing silence. "It goes in the trash when I
leave."

Brett smiled as he gazed down at the worn Formica. "I remember eating dinner on this
table, just before we moved to Florida. Your mom made spaghetti and meatballs because that was
my favorite meal."

"You remember all that?" Ardin felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she recalled ten-year-old
Brett kissing her good-bye. On the lips. As an eight-year-old, she thought this meant they were in
love and would marry when they grew up.

"I remember." Brett folded his lean, muscular body into the chair her mother had always
favored. "When are you leaving Thornedale?"

"Friday, now that my mother and the assisted-living residence have adjusted to one
another."

"It must have been hard for Vera to give up her apartment and her freedom."

"Oh, it was." Ardin sighed. "But my mother can hardly walk, and her disability benefits
cover her room and board in the residence. Staying here, she'd require a full-time aide, which she
can't afford. And she refuses to let me help."

She stopped, aware that she was babbling. But then Brett was one of those rare beings, a
male who knew how to listen. She suddenly recalled her manners. "Would you like a cup of
coffee?"

"No thanks. I've had enough to sink a battleship."

Where was that? Ardin wondered as she sank into a chair. After the funeral, Brett had
stopped by Aunt Julia's to pick up Leonie. The little girl had stayed at her grandmother's in the care
of a babysitter while her mother was being buried. When Aunt Julia told him Leonie would remain
with her, Brett had stormed out of the house.

Now he looked totally spent, as if he'd exhausted the last of his resources. When he caught
her studying him, he pulled himself upright and leaned toward her, gripping the edges of the
scarred table.

"In case you're worrying, let me put your mind at rest.
I
didn't kill
Suziette."

Ardin nodded, but her gaze fell on Brett's broad shoulders and muscular arms. Here was a
man who'd worked on construction crews every summer through high school and college, and,
even now, labored beside his men when they ran behind schedule. She suddenly remembered the
black and blue marks on Suziette's arms, marks Suziette had refused to explain.

Ten days later Suziette was dead, strangled with her own Hermès scarf.

Ardin shook her head to clear it of fanciful speculations. Despite Brett's powerful
physique, he
couldn't
have killed Suziette. Sure, he was big and strong, but he was a
gentle soul. Always had been. When they were kids, he never pulled her hair or twisted her
arm like the other boys. More recently, Ardin had seen him with little Leonie--wiping her
face, listening to her tales of nursery school. And Leonie wasn't even his daughter.

Now he was saying, "I must talk to you about Leonie. I can understand Julia's wanting to
keep her for a few days, but then I want her home with me. Leonie needs me. We need each
other."

"Aunt Julia--"

"I've been away a lot lately, I know, but from now on I plan to stay right here in Thornedale.
My brother will see to our business in Florida. I'll hire a woman to look after Leonie while I'm
working. And, of course, she's free to visit her grandmother any time."

Ardin's anxiety rose with every word he uttered. She had to set him straight. She held up a
hand to stop his flow of words. "Brett, Leonie's staying with Aunt Julia because she's her legal
guardian."

He sprang to his feet. Ardin flinched and tried not to stare at the hand only inches
from her cheek. That hand could lunge out and grab her by the throat. Or shake her until
the breath had left her body.
Stop it!
This is Brett, not Corey.

"I can't believe that," he said flatly. "I was in the process of adopting Leonie."

Ardin nodded. "I know, but speaking as an attorney, if the process wasn't completed at the
time of Suziette's death, then her will takes precedence, once it's filed with the Surrogate
Court."

Brett frowned. "Will? What will?" He clenched his hands into fists.

So close. Too close.
Ardin pushed through her fear and went to the sink, where
she poured herself a glass of water.

"Suziette had Bill Presley draw up a will three weeks ago. She named her mother as
Leonie's guardian and me as successor guardian. She told me you knew what she was doing and you
understood."

"Understood?" His rage filled the apartment. "I knew
nothing
about this! Your
cousin pulled all kinds of stunts during our eight months of marriage, but
this
is the
most despicable of all!"

Ardin's temples began to throb. Damn Suziette and her lies. "Brett, stop shouting. I'm
telling you what I know."

"Sorry. I don't mean to take it out on you. Sure, we were sniping at each other the last few
months, but that was because of all the time I spent away." His hand flew to his heart. "I love Leonie
as though she were my own child. Suziette knows that. Knew that." He spoke the last words
softly.

"You've been wonderful to Leonie. You're the only father she's ever known."

Brett's fist slammed down on the table. "Exactly! Then tell me, Ardin, who
is
her biological father?"

Ardin shook her head. "I've no idea. Aunt Julia doesn't even know."

"I asked often enough, but Suziette wouldn't say." Brett started to pace. "She'd laugh, insist
it wasn't important. We were to consider Leonie a gift from God. Except the adoption was held up
by that missing piece of information."

A shiver ran down Ardin's spine. Pacing was a bad sign. Her palms turned damp with sweat
at the sight of his clenched jaw. She sensed the anger coursing through his well-muscled body. Soon
his eyes would find her, his fists would seek her soft spots--

"Hey, are you okay?" He halted his pacing to study her.

"Of course. Sure. I'm just tired."

Get a grip! You've just delivered a pile of bad news, and he's venting.

Brett moved closer. "You're beat and upset, and I'm making it worse. Let me give you a
massage."

"What?"

"A massage." A smile wreathed his face, the first since he'd arrived. "I'm pretty good at it,
and it'll make you feel better, I swear."

"Well--"

"Come on, Ardie. It'll work wonders."

It was the use of her old nickname that did it. She exhaled, her apprehension vanishing like
air escaping from a balloon. "All right."

Brett positioned himself behind her chair and began kneading her shoulders. "You
are
tense."

Ardin nodded as his knowing fingers pressed and rubbed deep into her muscles. "Ah." She
closed her eyes, relishing the release of tension as the hypnotic kneading melted away her stress.
Relaxed now, she became aware of his closeness, of the way his breath puffed gently against her
neck. A tingling sensation rushed through her body for the first time in ages. She shuddered as his
hands moved down her back.

And then it was over. "Feel better?"

She nodded, ashamed of what she was beginning to imagine. Brett was her cousin's
widower. A man in distress. Not some unattached male interested in
her
.

He took his seat and said, "About Leonie's father... Any ideas who he is?"

"I always thought Suziette was sworn to secrecy. The man's undoubtedly married and
didn't want a scandal."

"I'm sure he paid her a pretty penny to keep her mouth shut," Brett said. "She knew how to
make the most of her indiscretions."

Ardin read the hurt and disillusionment in his eyes.

"Oh, yes," he said, "I know all about Suziette's escapades
now
. Too bad I
didn't listen to my brother, Rob, and have a detective check her out."

"A detective?" Ardin said, surprised. "Suziette was always a bit wild, but except for not
naming Leonie's father, she had no deep, dark secrets."

"Wild!" Brett shook his head in disbelief. "Promiscuous is the word you want. And it didn't
stop when she married me."

So he knew about Corey. "I'm sorry, Brett. My ex-husband is despicable."

"It doesn't matter, really it doesn't. I mean, I'm sorry someone murdered Suziette, but I
may as well tell you. Our marriage was a mistake. We had nothing in common. We never functioned
as a couple. All we shared was a new house--and Leonie. I tried to talk to Suziette about a
divorce."

"You did?"

Unbidden joy rose in Ardin's breast and she did her utmost to squelch it. Regardless of his
marital unhappiness, Brett was mourning the sudden death of his wife. Besides, while she'd always
found him a kind, even compassionate, man, her abusive marriage had left her mistrustful of men
and convinced she was better off avoiding romantic entanglements.