MisMatch (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (25 page)

After the awkward pleasantries, she opted to
address him head on. “You know, maybe I can’t get rid of you. But
the thing you'll have to understand is you can’t get rid of me. I’m
her daughter. Plus I'm in control of the finances. I hope Mom
mentioned that.”

Michael’s face grew redder and redder, and
she was sure he'd explode. “I love your mother.”

“So I keep hearing. The funny thing I’m
learning about love is that you’d be willing to give it up if it
meant making the other person happy in the long run.”

“Jessica, is that you darling?”

Jessica scowled at Michael and followed the
sound of her mother's voice into the kitchen. “Yeah, it's me,
Mom.”

“You’re not out there fighting with Michael
again, are you? I really want you two to try and get along.”

Jessica hated waiting for Eli's friends to
find something to pin on the guy. That could take months and months
and months. “No, Mom, that's actually why I’m here.”

Her mother's brows went up. “Oh?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

Her mother frowned.

“For being a brat. For acting out when Daddy
died. For making your life hell.”

“My life was a lot of things, baby girl, but
it was never hell.” She cocked her head. “What prompted this?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking
lately.”

“When you're protecting something you love,
it's understandable if you get a little unreasonable.”

“So you’re not mad? I promise—I don’t like
Michael, and I don’t trust him, but you’re grown and can make your
own decisions.”

She beamed. “Oh, baby, you mean that?”

Jessica nodded. The chirping birds of her
phone had her looking toward the living room. “Sorry, Mom, let me
grab that.”

She jogged out, only to see that it was Izzy
calling. She’d call her back after dinner with her mother. Michael
was still in the living room in front of the television, and he was
wiping his glasses. She studied him hard. How could she have been
so wrong about him? He hadn’t tipped a single card. “You know,
Michael, do you know anyone who drives an Oldsmobile?”

He frowned but blinked at her rapidly. “I
drive a Prius. It’s better for the environment.”

“Yeah, weird thing, someone tried to run me
over the other day.”

“And you think I had something to do with
that?”

“Yes, actually.” Jessica ground her teeth.
Her mother wanted Michael, and she would stand by her mother, but
one day the douchebag from hell would get what was coming to
him.

“Then go to the police.” He scowled.

“I don’t want you in jail on some tiny
charge. I want you to go away forever. So that might take some
finagling.”

He was up on his feet so quickly Jessica
stumbled back. “You know, you were lucky you weren't killed.
Accidents seem to befall some people, especially when they won't
mind their own business.”

“Michael, why would you say such a
thing?”

His head snapped around to meet her
mother's. “Mia, you misheard me. I don’t wish—”

A frown played on her mother’s delicate
features. “No, I think I heard you fine. You lobbed a veiled threat
at my daughter. I’m not going to bother to ask why. I may be naïve,
but no one threatens my family. You can feel free to get lost.”

“You’re joking!”

Mia crossed her arms. “Shall I call
security, or will you go on your own?”

He played visual ping pong between Jessica
and her mother. “This is all your fucking fault,” he spat in
Jessica’s face.

“Classic narcissist. You still think
everything revolves around you. I wish I could say it's been a
pleasure.” Jessica stood next to her mother and watched Michael
Fenton exit out the door.

Eli knocked on Vince’s door. “You got a
minute?”

Vince frowned. “Yeah. What’s up? Why do you
look like you’re about to give me bad news?”

Did he know? Had those records become
unsealed? It had only been two days. Eli craned his neck. It was
now or never. If he wanted to protect Samson, this was the only way
to do it. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Vince narrowed his eyes. “Spit it out, Eli.
We have work to do.”

“It's about the case.”

“You have another theory.”

“You could say that. Samson's involved.”

“Samson, as in your brother Samson?” Vince
sat up straight. “Start talking.”

“Someone's trying to frame him for these
forgeries.”

“I don't get it. How?”

Eli scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, so
you remember how I said that Sam had a pretty rough time with
drugs?”

“Yeah?”

“In high school, his drug use was maybe
recreational, but after he went to jail, he became a full blown
addict. First cocaine, then heroine.”

Vince's voice was cold and quiet. “What did
he go to jail for?”

“Technically, grand larceny and
conspiracy.”

“Fuck, Eli, are you serious?”

“He was a kid at the time. Got pulled in
with some people way above his level. They took advantage of him.
He served his time. Someone is trying to make it look like he's
back to his old tricks.”

“And you want to tell me he's not?”

Eli shook his head. “He's not. I swear
it.”

Vince crossed his arms. “You’re just now
telling me this?”

“Look. Sam has had a hard go of it. And he's
made his share of mistakes, but this isn't one of them. It looks
like him. The signature matches, but it's not him.”

“You'll forgive me if I don't buy it, Eli.
Fuck. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this
information.”

“Sam is willing to do anything he can to
help, but this isn't him.”

“I don't know, Eli.”

“Look. I know how it looks. Sam has the
skill. He's done it before. He's had a pretty shitty past with
drugs. Someone is trying to make it look like he’s doing this
again.”

“It is convenient. He was a very handy
scapegoat.”

“Too handy.”

“But who? I mean, we've got our hooks in
Michael Fenton. We're looking for his accomplice. But my case files
don’t go back that far. They only go back six years. Six years ago,
where was Samson? Would their paths have crossed?”

“Six years ago, Sam was doing a rehab stint
in San Francisco when I was working for Banes up there.”

“Any chance they ran into each other there?
Was Samson painting?”

Eli shook his head. “Not really. He was
trying, but the drugs made it too hard to focus. The facility had
an arts program though. Rehabilitation through art. They often
showed the work of the attendants. Maybe Fenton went to one of the
showings because Samson didn’t recognize his name.”

“You have to tie Fenton to Samson’s past,
then maybe we have something.”

“So you believe me?”

Vince narrowed his eyes. “Want to explain
why your brother doesn’t show up in your background checks?”

“Our parents got divorced. Mom changed my
last name. When Sam got out of jail and got clean, we had his name
changed. The old man was kind of a useless asshole.”

“So you didn’t grow up together?”

Eli shook his head. “Our parents divorced
when we were ten.”

“Why wouldn't you tell me about him?”

“Oh, right. The FBI and Banes Insurance
would have hired me with a forger in my past?”

“Good point.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Well, first things first. Why not pay a
visit to Fenton? He thinks you’re Samson, right? Go talk to
him.”

After leaving Vince’s office, Eli headed
straight for Brentwood. A small part of him hoped he’d see Jessica,
but the other part didn’t want to be put through that kind of pain
again. When he pulled up to Mia Stanton’s home, Michael Fenton was
packing up his car.

Eli pulled up to the curb and slid out of
his M3. “You going somewhere, Fenton?”

Michal narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck do
you want, Samson?”

Eli smirked. Gone was the genteel air about
him. “From the looks of it, you’re no longer kissing Mia with that
mouth. Where you off to? Did Mia see you for the scammer you really
are?”

Fenton slammed down his trunk and stalked
over to Eli’s car. He placed a hand on the roof and jabbed a finger
in Eli’s chest. “You’re one to talk. You show up here in Los
Angeles trying to get your career back on track, and you think no
one will notice that you’re a fraud and a fake. Our sins always
come back to haunt us.”

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” said Eli.

“How do you think the skull-wearing freak is
going to take it when she finds out that her new boyfriend did time
for grand larceny? Her whole life will be over. Personally, I don’t
give a rat’s ass. She’s been a pain in my ass since I got here, but
your little come back will flush down the toilet.”

Eli felt like he was missing part of the
equation. Fenton clearly thought he knew Samson. But how? And why
did he have it in for his brother? “What is it you have against me
anyway? I don’t know you.”

Fenton whipped off his sunglasses. “You
might not recognize me, but I sure remember you.”

Eli shoved his hands in his pockets. “Care
to enlighten me?”

“Oh, you’ll figure it out soon enough, once
I take away everything you ever cared about.”

***

Leather pants might look hot, but they did
absolutely nothing to help Jessica’s sweaty palms. God, this was
such a mistake.

As she stood on the front door of the
studio, she shifted from foot to foot, trying to figure out if she
had the balls to knock or not. Hell, who was she kidding? She'd
have to walk right in—she could hear the rock music blaring. She’d
be lucky if he didn’t shoot her.

“Okay, Stanton, go big or go home.” If she
wanted Eli, she'd have to go after him. It hadn't been easy for him
to tell her how he felt. And she'd thrown it in his face. She could
be a big girl and bite the damned bullet.

Testing the door, she was relieved to find
it open. “Chin up, square your shoulders. Show off your tits, and
hope he’s blinded by your sex appeal and forgives you,” she
muttered to herself as she stalked through the studio.

She only faltered when an errant thought of
Samson and his assistant filtered into her brain. Shit, she hadn’t
thought it through. No. Izzy was right. He wouldn't already be in
bed with someone else.

As she warred with herself about how men and
women dealt with break ups, she almost turned back around and
walked out. But at the end of the day, she wanted him. At the very
least, to say she was sorry. She would say what she’d come to
say.

“C’mon, don’t be a chicken shit.” As she
rounded the corner into the wide open studio, she watched in awe as
he painted. As usual when he painted, he was shirtless. His broad
shoulders bunched and smoothed as he made bold strokes with his
brush then stepped in to fix something with his finger.

He danced around to the Stones as Mick
crooned about getting no satisfaction. She'd never seen him dance.
Wait, that wasn't true, the night they'd met, he'd danced with her.
But that had been more like fucking on the dance floor. He'd been
smooth and controlled in seduction mode. This dancing was more
exuberant and a little off beat, but joyful nonetheless. And the
abstract he was working on was just as wild as the music. Full of
bold rainbow colors.

God, she could watch him paint all day, but
she'd come for a reason. Inching over to the stereo, she kept out
of his peripheral vision. Hating to interrupt his flow, she pressed
the power button.

Abruptly, he whirled around, irritation and
surprise lining his face. As soon as he saw her pleasure infused
the grim lines. “Jess. I didn't know you were coming over. You, uh,
you didn’t call.” His gaze darted around.

Okay, happy Samson. This was weird. She'd
expected brooding, but maybe he was just happy to see her. Hell, if
he'd shown up on her doorstep after that colossal fight, she'd have
flown into his arms.

“I'm sorry to interrupt. And such a
magnificent piece too. I just…there are some things that need to be
said. And I need to say them before I lose the nerve and chicken
out. I should have figured you'd be working.”

“Uh, look, Jess, maybe we should save these
words for over dinner or something. Let me get cleaned up. You’re
wearing white pants after all.” His gaze perused her. “White
leather.”

“No, Eli.”

He flinched.

“I should have said this the other night,
but I was too scared. I love you. I want to be with you. I'm just
terrified. There's the women, and you’re an artist, and what if you
discover I'm a fraud and not at all what you want and—” She wasn’t
making any sense. Okay, she could do this. She had to make him see.
She stopped right in front of him. “I love you. That's it. That’s
the whole big deal. I love you. I love my Eli.”

His eyes went wide, but then he drew her
close and held her. She returned the hug, so relieved. He hadn’t
turned her away. He wasn’t still pissed. He whispered something in
her hair, and she could have sworn he said, “That's what Eli needs
to hear.”

Reaching up, she wiped a speck of red paint
from his brow. “You tango with an artist, you're bound to get a
Pollock on your clothes.”

“Funny. Artist humor.” His gaze was warm,
but there was something missing, he didn’t look at her with the
same intensity, and she could have sworn he was holding her back a
little.

“Eli, what's wrong? Are you going punish me
for last night? I was an idiot and terrified, and you aren’t going
to hold that against me are you?”

He shook his head. “No, of course not, but I
really wanted to finish this painting today, and I'm so happy right
now all I want to do is take you up stairs. You just kind of caught
me off guard, baby.”

Jessica wrinkled her nose. There was an edge
of untruth in his tone, like the words were hollow or didn't carry
the same weight. This was the same Eli who'd conned her into taking
him as a client. The same one who'd teased her into accepting his
apology time and again, but different somehow.