Hightower Affairs 2: Bedding the Secret Heiress (3 page)

Lauren stowed her computer case in the compartment behind the pilot’s seat and locked it down. “I refueled after we landed, but I’ll need about thirty minutes to get ready for takeoff.”

“No rush. In fact, why don’t we have dinner first?”

Lauren’s crisp, economical movements stopped abruptly with her uniform jacket half-on. Her eyes turned wary. “Dinner?”

He needed to find out exactly how tight she and her mother had become. “I passed a Brazilian steak place on the way to the airport that looked interesting.”

She licked her lips as if tempted, and his gaze involuntarily followed the sweep of her pink tongue. The muscles in his gut tightened. He dammed the reaction. Lauren might look as fresh-faced as the proverbial girl next door, but the intelligence in her eyes and her quiet confidence as she operated the multimillion dollar aircraft belied her being uncomplicated.

She finished putting on her coat and buttoned it up to her neck. “I’m more than happy to delay takeoff until after you’ve eaten. It’ll give me time to prepare for—”

“Join me, Lauren.”

She shook her head. “Fraternizing with clients is against HAMC rules.”

“I’ll call Trent and clear it.”

She blinked. Why had he never noticed her long lashes before? “Thank you, but I’ve already eaten.”

He didn’t believe her. “What did you have?”

She hesitated. “A sandwich from the airstrip cantina.”

“Then I’ll have the same. Keep me company.” At least that would keep her from hooking up with her mother again while he was out of sight.

A stubborn expression shut down her face. “No thank you, Mr. Faulkner. I’ll prepare the plane while you eat.”

He had the distinct impression she didn’t want to be alone with him. He had every intention of finding out why and what she had to hide.

The crunch of a shoe behind her in the misty, dark parking lot kicked Lauren’s adrenaline into high gear. She spun around, ready to gouge an assailant with her keys if necessary.

Trent stepped into the murky light of a lamppost and stopped two yards away when he saw her aggressive stance.

Lauren’s hammering pulse slowed, but her irritation rose. After a full day’s flying and dealing with Gage’s scrutiny, she was too tired for a backbiting confrontation. She needed to get home and call her mother and then her uncle. For five full seconds she debated ignoring her half brother, climbing into her truck and driving off. But she’d never been one to back down from a bully.

She lowered her keys. “You need better lighting in
your parking area. If I were trigger-happy and had pepper spray, you’d be on your knees howling by now.”

Trent’s gaze went from her to her truck and back. “I’ll mention your concerns to security.”

Sure he would. Impatient, she tapped her toe. “Did you need something?”

“Lauren, if Gage wants to sit in the cockpit he can. If he asks you to eat dinner with him, do it. Do whatever he says.”

His my-word-is-law tone raised her hackles and sent a trickle of unease through her. “Exactly how far do you expect me to go to keep the customer happy?”

His head jerked back and his nostrils flared. “I’m not asking you to do anything illegal or immoral.”

“You’re asking me to violate HAMC rules. I want you to spell out your expectations—in writing. Preferably signed and notarized.”

“What? You don’t trust me, little sister?”

“Half sister.” She shouldered her flight bag. “You’ve made it clear from day one that I’m unwelcome here. I’m not handing you a blank check to write me out of the picture.”

“Would a blank check work?”

His audacity took her breath. “Could you possibly be more of a jack—”

The scrape of a shoe on asphalt drew her attention to another approaching male. Gage. Great. Two headaches. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“There’s nothing you can’t say in front of Gage. He’s like family.”

The statement only irritated her more. “Unlike me who actually
is
family. I admire your loyalty. To your friends at least.”

“What’s your price, Lauren?” Trent asked.

She wanted to kick the knucklehead in the kneecap, but she’d encountered and dealt with worse than him before without resorting to assault. “You can’t buy me off,
big brother
. You’ve had our mother for thirtysomething years. It’s my turn to spend a little time with her. Don’t worry. I’ll give her back.”

“You’ve known her all your life.”

A gurgle of disgust bubbled up her throat. She cut a look at Gage, who stood by Trent’s side. “I see your spy has debriefed.”

Gage frowned. “Lauren, our conversation wasn’t confidential.”

“Don’t waste your breath, Faulkner. I knew where your loyalties lay before we ever set foot on an airplane together.”

Trent squared his shoulders, trying to intimidate her by towering over her. Too bad it didn’t work. “If you’ve known our mother all your life, why are we only now hearing about you?”

“Because apparently
our
parent wanted to keep us all in the dark. She never told me about you, either.” She turned away then turned back. “Did you know my father was one of the founders of Hightower Aviation?”

The men’s breath whistled in stereo.

Trent scowled—his usual expression around her. “I’ve heard no such claim.”

“And neither had I until I started clearing out my father’s old papers. Your father and mine were in the Air Force together. I found pictures. They started HAMC after they got out. They were scraping along, strapped for cash when our grandfather Bernard Waterman came on the scene and offered them money in return for one-third ownership. I’m not sure how our mother plays into the picture.”

“I’ll have to verify your story.”

“Good luck with that. Jacqui’s not talking.” But why? And why had her father kept the secret? “Don’t sweat it, boss. I’m not demanding a percentage of the stock. My father sold out to our mother while she was pregnant with me, and as far as I can tell he got a fair price. He took that money and started Falcon Air with my uncle Lou, who also used to work here.”

Suspicion narrowed Trent’s eyes. “Your uncle?”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, relax. He isn’t a blood relative. You won’t have another relative crawling out of the woodwork, showing up and asking for a job.”

Gage shoved his hands in his overcoat pockets. “Trent and I are going to have a drink. Do you want to join us and tell us more about this history of HAMC?”

Trent stiffened as if Gage’s invitation had surprised him.

Obviously they’d decided to tag team her out of a job. She hit the remote to unlock her door, opened it and slung her bag inside. “Nice try, Faulkner. But I have to fly in the morning and any alcohol within twelve hours of flight time gets me fired. Company policy.”

“Nice truck,” Gage said behind her. “Big engine.”

“For a girl, you mean? I need ten cylinders to tow airplanes around back home.” The Dodge SRT Ram was her pride and joy and had been a true labor of love shared with the people she cared most about. It would also be the last project she, her father and Uncle Lou would work on together.

“Look, if you guys are through with the interrogation, I need some shut-eye. I’ve been here since four this morning, and I’m due back at the same time tomorrow for our flight to Lancaster.”

Trent nodded. “Good night.”

“Go ahead,” Gage told him. “I’ll catch up with you at the restaurant.”

After a moment’s hesitation Trent strolled toward his BMW, leaving her alone with Gage. “You don’t trust me much, do you, Lauren?”

“I don’t know you well enough to trust you.”

“You have nothing to fear from me as long as you’re not out to hurt the Hightowers.”

Not believing him for one second, she climbed into her truck. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He braced one hand on each side of her door and leaned into the opening, crowding her. She caught a whiff of his minty breath. Her mouth dried and her pulse quickened.

He stopped inches from her face. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t need Trent to pimp for me. If I ask you to dinner, it’s because I don’t like eating alone. I’m not expecting more. You’re not my type.”

“Good, because you’re not mine, either.” She fired the words back automatically. Just because she didn’t want him didn’t mean his rejection didn’t sting.

He straightened, withdrawing from her personal space. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turned on his heel and headed toward a black SUV with long, purposeful strides.

What was Gage’s type? The question popped into her head unexpectedly as she turned her key.

Doesn’t matter. Forget it. Go home.

But she had a feeling that now that her curiosity had been stirred, she wasn’t going to be able to forget it.

L
auren shifted uneasily on the front doormat of the opulent Hightower home. A less-desperate woman would go home without making an already-bad day worse, but knowing Trent had dinner plans with Gage gave her a narrow window of opportunity to talk to her mother before he arrived home.

The door opened and Fritz the butler stood framed in the entryway. “Good evening, miss.”

“Hi, Fritz.”

“Madame is waiting for you in the salon.” He turned and led the way like a butler cliché from an old movie, British accent, black suit, stiff posture and all.

Lauren craned her neck, once again awed and a little intimidated by the soaring foyer with its priceless art collection and grand staircase. Her heels tapped on the marble tiles and the sound echoed off the walls, making her want to tiptoe. Honestly, the place was like a
museum or a governor’s mansion or something. How could anyone be comfortable here?

Fritz stepped aside and gestured to the open door with its fancy wood trim. “May I bring you anything? Wine? Coffee? Perhaps a light snack?”

“No, but thank you.” How could she eat when every encounter with her mother was like an armed truce?

Fritz bowed and retreated, leaving Lauren once more with the surreal sense of being blown off course and landing on a foreign airstrip where you didn’t know if the natives were friendly or hostile or even which language they’d speak. The Hightower abode was hardly the kind of place you could kick your shoes off and wander around in your jammies.

“You’ve come straight from work.” Her mother’s voice pulled her attention back to the massive room. Jacqui sat in a chair by the fireplace looking almost regal in her black pantsuit, heels and diamonds. “The HAMC uniform looks good on you and makes me quite glad I insisted on skirts instead of pants for our female pilots.”

“Um…yeah, thanks. I appreciate you letting me stop by on short notice.”

“I’m always happy to see you, Lauren.”

Oh, right. Jacqui emitted about as much warmth as an Alaskan winter. There was no shared hug, just a meaningless air kiss. They barely even touched. Her father or Uncle Lou would have swept Lauren up into a big lung-crushing, feet-lifted-off-the-ground hug after a long absence. But the Hightowers weren’t the warm and fuzzy type.

“Come in and sit down.”

Lauren perched on the edge of a brocade sofa with fancy fringe trim. How could she not have realized Jacqui was her mother sooner? They shared the same
build and the same features, although her mother did something to brighten the mousy shade of her upswept hair and her makeup was always immaculate. Jacqui looked good, but Lauren wasn’t into high maintenance. She’d stick with her naturally boring hair and soap, water and sunscreen regimen.

“I have some questions about my father.”

Jacqui sniffed. “I can’t talk about him yet. I miss him too much.” Her emotion appeared genuine. But it had been two months—two months with a lot of meaningless chitchat, but no answers.

Lauren was beyond frustrated. “I miss him, too, Jacqui, but I need to understand his state of mind before the accident.”

Jacqui rose and went to the wet bar to refill her glass instead of ringing for Fritz the way she had during Lauren’s previous visits. “I can’t pretend to know what your father was thinking.”

“You were the last one to talk to him. Did he seem upset, distracted or depressed to you?”

Her mother faced her but didn’t return to her seat. “Depressed? I don’t know what you mean.”

Lauren took a deep breath. She hadn’t discussed the rumors with anyone other than her uncle. “A couple of his friends think the crash wasn’t an accident. They claim Dad bragged that if he died, his life insurance policy would pay off Falcon Air’s debts.”

Jacqui stiffened and paled. She pressed a beringed, manicured hand to her chest. “No. No. Never. Kirk would never voluntarily leave me. Or you. From the moment I told him I’d conceived, you were his life. He planned everything around providing for you.”

Emotion welled inside Lauren, tightening her chest. “I don’t think he would have deliberately crashed,
either. I mean, I can’t believe I would have missed him being that upset. He was preoccupied those last few months, but I don’t think he was unhappy.” But had she missed something? “The life insurance company is refusing to pay the claim until they finish their investigation and rule out suicide.”

“I’ll give you whatever you need. Tell me how much.”

Lauren shook her head. “I’ve told you before I don’t want your money. I just want to know what you and my father discussed that last day before you left him
again.
That conversation could be a key to what happened.”

Tears pooled in Jacqui’s eyes. Was she faking it? “You believe I had something to do with his crash?”

“How can I know if you won’t talk?”

“Lauren…I can’t…discuss this.”

“But—”

“I know you don’t believe me, but I loved Kirk. He is the only man I ever loved, and knowing I’ll never see him again—” Her voice broke. Her hand trembled as she set down her glass and covered her mouth.

Lauren hardened herself to the emotion. Jacqui was hiding something. The question was, what? “What about your husband?”

“That was an arranged marriage. My father promised to invest in Hightower Aviation if William married me.”

“And you agreed?”

“I was a bit of a…difficult girl. My father wanted me to settle down. He threatened to cut me off without a cent if I didn’t do as he ordered. William was quite a dashing pilot at the time. I thought I could grow to love him. I was wrong.”

But she was still married to the guy. “Where did my father fit into this triangle?”

“William’s only loves were flying and gambling. When my father died unexpectedly, I discovered my husband had gambled us into financial difficulty. I had to learn how to manage HAMC’s assets because my husband was too busy having fun elsewhere. Your father helped me. Our…friendship soon became more. I knew it was wrong. But I fell in love with Kirk, and he with me.”

Lauren shifted, not wanting to believe her father had knowingly slept with a married woman.

“When I became pregnant with you, your father gave me an ultimatum. Leave William and come to him or we were over. But I couldn’t. My father had written into his will that if I left my husband, I’d lose everything. My trust fund. My inheritance. My stock in Hightower Aviation. I had my other children to think of. I couldn’t leave them to be raised by that—their father.”

“You left me easily enough.”

“William pressured me into giving you up. Kirk insisted on adopting you. I agreed, but only if I could visit you. Your father’s stipulation was that we not tell you I was your mother. He didn’t want you to feel rejected.”

But Lauren had always wondered why her mother couldn’t love her and didn’t want her. “If you loved my father that much, how could you have been happy with only seeing him once a year?”

“That was all William would allow me. I lived for that week.”

So had her father. Lauren had experienced a love-hate reaction with Jacqui’s visits. On one hand while her mother was there, her father had been happier than she’d ever seen him, but every time Jacqui left he’d been devastated. And nothing Lauren had done had been enough to cheer him up.

She scanned the expensively decorated room. “Yes, it looks like you had a rough time. Living in the lap of luxury with servants at your beck and call when you weren’t with Dad and I must have been difficult.”

Jacqui cringed at the sarcasm in Lauren’s voice. “I would have been with you if I could.”

Lauren tried to work up sympathy and failed. Her mother had chosen financial security over a man who’d adored her and would have done anything for her. “So you don’t think my father committed suicide?”

Again, Jacqui flinched. “Your father had too much to live for to harm himself. He had such plans, such high hopes.”

Lauren wanted to believe her. But there was something fishy in the way Jacqui’s gaze kept flitting around the room and never directly engaging with Lauren’s.

The front door opened. Male voices bounced off the walls. Lauren stiffened. Gage and Trent. What had happened to their dinner plans? She looked at the archway, praying they’d pass by, but Trent’s scowling face glared back at her.

“Mother, I didn’t know you were expecting company.” An arctic chill radiated from his voice.

“You know Lauren is always welcome here.”

Gage said nothing, but his dark assessing eyes lasered in on Lauren. She had every intention of finding out what Jacqui was hiding, but she wouldn’t get her answers tonight. She couldn’t risk Trent overhearing the questionable circumstances of her father’s death. The charter jet business was a small and competitive one. One word to the wrong people and Falcon would be grounded. Permanently.

Lauren rose. “I was just leaving. Good night, Jacqui. Gentlemen, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Any news?” Lauren asked the moment her uncle answered the phone twenty minutes later. She locked her apartment door and set her keys and bag on the nearby table.

“Nothing.”

She’d been frustrated by her lack of progress with her mother and needed to talk to someone who understood. “Why is this taking so long? Daddy’s been gone two months.”

“Lauren, sweetie, your father’s case may be number one to us, but it’s not to the rest of the world. To them he was just another pilot in an experimental aircraft. He wasn’t running from criminal charges or trafficking drugs or anything else that would make him a high priority.”

“But Lou—”

“The crashes that have happened since his are higher profile. When are you coming home?”

She unpinned her hair, trying to relieve the slight headache Trent and Gage always gave her. “I don’t know. Jacqui’s still playing the grieving lover role. I’ll try to call the investigators again tomorrow.”

“No point. I called today to make sure they had your correct address. They promised the report would be couriered to you as soon as it’s done. Just finish whatever it is you’re trying to do and get home. I need you here. And I miss you, baby girl.”

Her chest tightened. Lou had been a second father to her. Moving to Knoxville on the heels of her father’s death was almost like losing both of them. “I miss you, too, Lou.”

“Call the minute you get the report.”

“I will. Keep your cell phone on.”

“I’ll try to remember.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t try. Just do it. Love you. I’ll call again soon.”

And hopefully, by the next time she called she’d have the answers they all needed to be able to get back to life as usual and focus on getting Falcon Air back into the black.

“She’s done it again.” Trent’s angry voice barked through Gage’s wireless cell phone earpiece late Wednesday afternoon.

“Who’s done what?” Gage’s grip tightened on the steering wheel of the sedan he’d rented.

“My mother withdrew almost two hundred thousand dollars from one of her accounts today.”

Gage’s breath whistled through his teeth. Jacqueline Hightower had always liked her expensive toys. “Has she been car shopping again?”

“I doubt there’s a dealership on the island of Anguilla. That’s where Mother is now. She flew out early this morning. I’ll bet that little leech is connected. Why else would Lauren have been at my house last night? Is she with you now?”

Gage pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off the tension headache taking root between his eyes. The CEO he’d spent the day with had been difficult and defensive. In the end, Gage had refused the job and walked out.

Turning down work was still difficult for him. He wanted the security each job put in his investment account, but his time was short and the list of clients requesting his expertise was long enough to allow him to choose the ones who truly wanted his help and were ready to accept it rather than deal with the ones who fought his suggestions each step of the way as this one would have.

“No. I just left the job site. I’m on the way to the airport now.”

“Tell Lauren to report to my office as soon as she’s locked down the plane.”

Gage scanned the dense fog outside the windows of his rental car. His headlights barely penetrated the near whiteout. “Check the forecast. Unless she’s going to fly blind I don’t think we’ll be home tonight.”

A moment later Trent’s curse rang in his ears.

“Don’t sweat it, Trent. This could work in your favor. The weather will keep your sister out of town overnight while you track the money trail. I’ll use the time to see if I can find out anything relevant to your situation.”

It wasn’t as if he’d be befriending Lauren. He was simply protecting Trent’s interest and digging for facts—something he did every day in his job.

Gage refused to stand by and let someone else’s greed derail Trent’s years of hard work. Loyalty to his friend wouldn’t allow it.

Lauren shifted in the passenger seat of the rental car, glanced down at her HAMC uniform and then up at the restaurant looming out of the fog.

Not again
. Why did life keep throwing men who seemed determined to prove she couldn’t fit into their world at her? It was probably a good thing her last relationship hadn’t worked out. If she’d married Whit—not that he’d asked—she would have struggled against a lifetime of being a misfit. Ditto trying to fit into the Hightower clan.

“Can we go somewhere less…?”

Gage glanced her way as he pulled into the valet parking lane behind three other cars. “Less what?”

“Highfalutin. I realize you’re accustomed to places
like this, but I’m more interested in a filling meal than swanky presentation and having to worry about which fork to use.”

No matter what her half brother ordered she should never have agreed to have dinner with Gage. But being grounded at a small rural airport by heavy fog had limited her options. Gage hadn’t requested in-flight meals, so there hadn’t been any food stashed on board, and the airport didn’t have a restaurant. She hadn’t wanted to waste money on a taxi.

An elegantly clad couple exited the brass-and-glass etched doors and headed for the valet stand, confirming her opinion. “I’m not dressed for this.”