Secret Desire (8 page)

He’d innocently asked Fran to the movies back in high school, believing he’d be able to find out about Claire and perhaps enlist Fran to help him win Claire’s affection. He never thought that Fran would take vying for his affection as a challenge.

He had never believed Claire and Fran were identical twins in the ways that counted. If Fran was provoked, her true character shone through. A point he’d overlooked long ago. It had cost him. Fran did everything she could think of to attract him. When she’d found out he wasn’t gullible enough to fall for her charms, she changed tactics. She was only too happy to prove that Claire wasn’t special. Fran was ruthless enough to set him up, get him drunk, and then pretended to be Claire. Afterward, Fran laughed in his face and threatened to tell her father.

He panicked. He had been too unsure of himself to stand up against Fran, afraid of more lies, vile mistruths that she was more than capable of telling. So he did what she’d asked and pretended to be her boyfriend. In return, she’d kept his secret of being in love with Claire. He’d been seduced by a lie.

He’d taken Fran out once a week and let her hang out in his barn as he fixed his motorcycle or did chores around the farm. But that was it. He’d never kissed Fran again and never felt anything but revulsion for her and his actions.

That mistake had cost him dearly, framed his life, and now he wasn’t about to let this chance to make things right with Claire slip away.

She possessed something that struck and resonated inside him, refusing to be forgotten, embedded within his circuitry. The way she moved, the curve of her body, and good God, the scent of her. She filled him with a wordless, primal desire that made his senses go on full alert. In these few moments, it was if he’d come alive after years of searching. She was his.

Hell, he hadn’t gone all the way around the globe proving himself in the world of technology, building a career, trying to find a way to get her back only to step aside when the opportunity knocked. He’d waited long enough for Claire’s return home and had hoped it would have been this Christmas when he’d have had a chance to straighten out his life into something that resembled normalcy. Instead she was back to mourn. Not tend to long ago secrets and regrets.

He swung open the gate and whistled. Jasper came running. His dog was part black lab, part cattle dog. He barked and leapt. Dustin bent down and picked up a stick. He swung and released the bit of wood to take flight. Jasper sat, watched the stick arc, and then ran as it dropped. The dog would go nonstop, fetch and retrieve, all day long if Dustin obliged. He played with the dog as his mind retraced seeing Claire.

He walked toward the barn and pulled out his buzzing cell phone. “Mark, what’s up?”

“I’m sending you the contracts. Are you certain you want to sell? Why not think about this for a day or two?”

“No, I want to be free. There’s nothing to keep me tied up. I don’t need to think. I’ve made up my mind.”

“But the market—” Mark’s voiced edged upward.

“Yes, the market can bounce, which is why holding on any longer is pointless. I’ll make more money than I’ll ever spend. Why be greedy?” He was aware that Mark was trying to get a better deal not necessarily because of Dustin, but for himself—Mark worked on points. The commission alone would be more than most families earned in a year. In a way, Dustin felt guilty for getting so much for doing so little. A simple invention. No one suspected a patent would be worth so much.

At first he had not sold the patent, just the rights to cell phone companies. Dustin had created a secured system, using a new software code that to date could not be broken apart.

Then the legal wrangling started and he found himself up in an office filled with attorneys, day after day, up to his eyeballs in contracts and copyright legalese. He had no time to create, only to go after companies that infringed on his patents. He wanted to sell the technology instead of being some patent troll, embroiled in lawsuits and fighting over rights.

He decided to leave any career that included being chained inside an office, before it was too late.

“I want the deal locked up by tomorrow. Overnight the contract documents. I’ll sign and scan copies and courier the originals back to you. And Mark don’t let me down.”

Dustin was well aware that he could walk away from the deal and take this sale and the ensuing commission to another broker. He’d heard from Mr. Robertson that Fran had become a high-powered broker but not one he’d ever consider using. He’d seen her in New York, getting into an elevator. Living the city life, he supposed. He’d avoided making contact as she passed by him holding on to a young woman with a death grip, snarling garishly enough to make people take a step back. He’d heard along the financial grapevine that she clung to a man who’d inherited his company from his father.

If Fran ever came clean about what she’d done to Claire, hell would freeze with flying donkeys. She seemed more hard-core than ever. No, if he had any hope to set things right, it would be done by him alone. Claire would have to take a stand on who to believe. Somehow that thought sucker-punched him in the gut.

He walked back to the barn, wondering if Claire was seeing anyone special. He’d kept up with her life by occasionally speaking about her with Mr. Robertson, but he’d never downright asked if she was involved with someone.

He approached the 1974 Honda Elsinore he’d bought at auction a month ago. Riding and working on vintage motocross bikes freed his mind. If he hadn’t thought he’d scare the daylights out of Claire, he’d have followed her and found her in Seattle. But stalker status was not exactly an improvement in relationship with Claire. After buying his parents’ farm months ago, he was just about finished with the renovations of the house. He wasn’t certain whether he’d stay. That all depended on Claire.

A car door slammed. Her car bolted down the driveway, lifting up dust from the gravel road. He made another call. “Hello, may I please speak with Mr. Chase, Jr.?” He waited for the connection. “Bob? It’s Dustin Murray.”

“Dustin, what’s going on?”

“I’ve got a favor to ask. You’re representing Claire Robertson in the matter of her parents’ estate.”

“Yes. That’s true.”

“Send the bill to me.”

“What?”

“I’d like to take care of the cost of the probate. They don’t have much and she doesn’t need to be concerned with another bill.”

Bob laughed. “I think Claire’s parents had us all fooled.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you know I can’t break client confidentiality but it’s fair to say Claire’s parents left her a wealthy woman. They may not have spent much money, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have any. Mr. Robertson made some sound investments that paid off.”

Dustin watched the line of dust that continued to rise from where Claire’s car was headed. “I couldn’t be more pleased for her. Still, send the bill to me. On principle. I already offered and won’t withdraw just because her financial picture is brighter.”

“Dustin, from what will soon be public probate knowledge, the Robertsons will be considered one of Mill Spring’s well-off families. I’m not saying up to your status, but comfortable. Speaking of success, you’ll probably be in Forbes before the year is out. Small town doesn’t mean small mind.”

“Just dumb luck.”

“Well then hooray for idiots.” Bob chuckled. “Maybe I’m closer to a gold mine than I realized.”

Dustin said his goodbyes. He wasn’t taken aback by the news. Claire’s father had asked for tech financial advice from time to time. If Mr. Robertson had been able to use that information, then bully for him to be smart enough to invest at the right time.

His parents were somewhat the same. They’d invested and spent frugally and now had enough to live a life they’d decided was truer to their nature. His parents had reinvented themselves, even if it had meant they went their separate ways. He couldn’t imagine the Robertsons going through some midlife crisis. They’d seemed more the type to stay the course of love and life. Now, the one couple who’d seemed to have it all was gone. So much had changed recently. His throat constricted. He needed some space. Damn. If he felt their loss, what must Claire be feeling? Remorse wasn’t what he needed to buy into. He could be her rock and start from there.

He lifted the motorcycle onto a stand and removed the wheels. He’d replaced the worn tires as well as some bent spokes and tightened them one at a time. He’d ridden as a boy and was no stranger to this farm. He jumped the ditches and hills, rode over the fifty-seven acres as familiar as his frame of mind. Not a huge spread but enough space to ride freely and race the wind.

After he reinstalled the front and back wheels and reconnected the chain. He tested the brakes, adjusting the tension, and tuned the suspension. He removed the motorcycle from the stand and set the Honda on the ground. He reached for his helmet and goggles hanging on the wall peg. He pulled open the barn door and pushed the motorcycle outside. He climbed on and kick-started his favorite ride. He gunned the engine, giving his cycle enough power to do a wheelie. A bit juvenile, but he always got a rush as the front wheel lifted off the ground, and he rode across the yard on the back tire.

Jasper barked and ran alongside the motorcycle for a ways while Dustin warmed up. When he was ready to ride hard, he stopped. “See you, boy. Go home.”

In no time, he’d reached the edge of his property and squirted zigzagging lines across the fields. The fields were fallow, and he took his time on runs that were almost too worn down to perceive. He remembered and rode hard, sweat trickling under his helmet and over his body. He hit a narrow sinkhole, careened upward, and for a moment thought he was about to take a fall.

He came down torquing the front wheel and prayed that the ground would be level until he could get the bike under control. The bike sputtered and the engine cut. He pushed up his goggles. He attempted to kick-start the engine but nothing fired. After three more attempts, he took off his helmet. Mosquitos buzzed around while he knelt down beside the motorcycle. Fuel dripped, spilling over his fingers. A carburetor line had come loose.

“Brother.” He had no choice but to walk back to the barn. He stood up and looked out from the ridge at his pasture and far on the other edge, home.

Well, it was still early and he’d be back in less than an hour with his Jeep. Lucky for him, he could take the road because he’d just about ridden off his property. He was nearly to the corner of the farthest field. The house was twenty or so acres due west. He climbed the fence and began walking along the road.

Dust rose up and he recognized that someone had turned onto the road. He hoped that he’d turn and see Claire. He grinned as he recognized her car and watched as she pulled over beside him.

“Hey.” Claire smiled behind sunglasses. “You out for a walk or can I give you a ride?”

“Yes, I’d very much appreciate a lift.” The color of her pale blue dress made her eyes change to the color of the sky.

“Come on, cowboy, climb in.” She half-laughed.

Dustin brushed off his pants and shirt. She looked as fresh as dew on the grass and even though he’d escaped a near collision with the ground, he was covered in dirt and dust.

She reached over and opened the door. As she did, he caught a glimpse of cleavage. He swallowed hard and redirected his gaze back to her face. Her lips were parted, her mouth so inviting. He imagined what it would be like to kiss her, to pull her body into his. Jesus Christ, he had to get a hold.

“How’d it go downtown?” Once inside her car he was bathed in her fragrance, some flowery scent reminding him of spring and warm nights.

“Short. I’m in shock actually. My parents left Fran and me a lot of money.” She was shaking her head. “They saved much more than what we imagined they made in my father’s business.” There was sadness blanketing her eyes and her chin trembled. Dustin wanted to comfort her, to taste those pink lips, feel the way she moved in his arms, and bury his face in her hair. His heartbeat pounded unmercifully in his ears, demanding he do something not just sit there.

“That’s not so bad.” He rubbed his forehead. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

“I don’t know. I can’t get my head around the inheritance. Fran and I have an inheritance. I don’t know what to feel exactly. I’d rather trade it, if I could get my parents back. I’m very thankful. But confused.” She smiled hesitantly. “Is that wrong?”

“No. Of course not. But I thought you said Fran relinquished her part of the estate. She dumped this in your lap. There’s still taxes, court costs, and the work involved. Just because the lion’s share is larger, it isn’t fair that she should reap the reward. It’s yours. Fair and square.”

“Why so down on Fran? She agreed to something she had no way of knowing would turn out in her favor. I would never begrudge Fran her share of the estate. Besides, I think she’ll come back now. I’m going to ask her. ” Claire stared back at him, and the smile disappeared from her face.

“I’m sorry. I’ve no right to interfere. Truly, I’m out of line.”

“You’re a good friend. I know you and Fran have a past. I don’t know exactly all the details but I thought you’d like to see her again.”

He inhaled and held his breath. Nothing could be farther from the truth, but how could he tell Claire her sister was a fraud, didn’t care about her, and that probably any success Claire would ever obtain, Fran would dismiss or belittle?

“You’re too good to be true. I wish I had a sister or someone in my family who was as good as you.” Fine. Great going. He didn’t mean he wanted her as a sister. Open mouth, insert boot.

Her brows drew together. “By the way, what on Earth are you doing out so far from the house. Did you breakdown or something?”

“Remember how I used to ride motocross?”

“Do you still ride? Yes. You do. I saw you carrying two wheels the other night. That makes sense. I didn’t know what they were for and forgot to ask. What happened? Are you all right?”

“Yes, just broke down, nothing exciting or dangerous.”

“You’d make a great character in a story.” Her voice had gone soft, and she paused. “Well, here we are.” She pulled into the gravel driveway of his house.