Seducing an Heiress (11 page)

She released a sigh. To top it all off she had cramps. 

Maneuvering herself into the foyer, she pushed the door shut with her foot and turned to go up the stairs.

"Let me help you with that." 

She let out a little screech and spun around. Trey jumped back to avoid being clobbered by her grocery bag. 

"How did you get in my building?" Dakota sputtered, struggling to catch her breath. 

"Your neighbor let me in on her way out." He took hold of her grocery bag and she started to fight him for it. Dignity won out and she let go. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't." Turning her back on him, she tramped up the stairs. 

He followed her. "For starters, your note wasn't very clear."

"Pardon me for not feeling obligated to share with the hotel clerk the fact that I'm not pregnant."

He let out a breath and she could almost feel the wave of relief coming off him. Good. Maybe now he'd go away and leave her alone.

"I'd forgotten what small towns could be like." 

His admission startled her. Reaching the landing, Dakota turned to look at him. "You've lived in a small town, before?" He didn't seem the type.

His mouth lifted into a half smile that seemed genuine. "For a while when I was a kid. With my grandfather."

She wasn't sure how to take that information, not after she'd concluded he would never open up to her or let down the barricade he kept so tightly around himself. Thinking of Trey as a child with a family made her feel like she'd stepped onto the deck of a sinking ship--off balance and in eminent danger. 

No, no, no, she told herself firmly. She would not go there. There lay the path to pain and misery. She unlocked her door and Trey handed her the groceries.

Horror filled her as she watched his expression turn serious. "Dakota, I--"

"I'm sorry, I have to go." She ducked into her apartment and closed the door.

Her heart rate didn't return to normal until she heard him walk away.

*  *  *

Trey parallel parked behind the white rental car he'd spotted on his way back from Dakota's. The only person in town who would have a rental was the AENC Inspector. Seeing what the intrepid inspector was up to was just the distraction he needed. 

Especially after the total crash and burn at Dakota's.

He stepped onto the sidewalk in front of a place called Look the Part. The small blue building didn't look like part of anything wedged as it was between a bank and a gift shop, but if it was significant to the inspector, it was significant to Trey. 

The building had once been a small house, by the look of it. The room he entered had been converted into a modest reception area including an unoccupied secretary's desk sitting to one side. There were also a few chairs plus a table with magazines scattered on it. Behind the desk was a hallway.

The AENC Inspector was nowhere to be seen.

Wandering over to the desk, Trey picked up a flyer from a stack on the corner. 
Look the Part – Image Consulting and Training
was superimposed on a picture of a fancy cocktail party that could have easily been one of Jamison Enterprises customer schmoozefests.

A floor board creaked and he looked up to see Chelsea standing in the hall glaring at him.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, glancing at one of the closed doors behind her. 

He held up the flyer. "What kind of classes do you have?"

"Shhh. Do you want him to hear you?" She hurried forward. "You're the last person who needs training in how to dress for success or have confidence with the opposite sex." She snatched the flyer out of his hand. 

"I don't know. I haven't been doing too well with Dakota."

She tossed the flyer onto the desk. "Why are you really here?"

He leaned toward her. "Where's George?" he stage-whispered.

"Inspector Lambert?" Chelsea narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"

Trey stepped back and half sat on the empty corner of the desk. "He's a wild card that needs constant managing, wouldn't you say?"

"Shhh. He's in Lori's office getting the full treatment. He thinks he's interviewing her, but she's actually interviewing him. He's exactly the kind of clientele we're marketing to."

"Who's Lori?"

"My business partner. We own Look the Part."

His respect for Dakota's friend raised a notch. "Successful?"

"We're getting there. Now get out before Mr. Lambert catches you. He'll think you're stalking him. It'll look bad for Dakota."

"What's he trying to find out, anyway?"

"Everything. And he keeps mentioning that she looks familiar. He's determined to get to the bottom of it." 

Apprehension skated across his shoulders. He'd been right to stop in. The inspector posed an unanticipated threat to his plans.

Chelsea shoved her thumb in the direction of the street. "If you really want to help Dakota, stay out of this."

Trey leveraged off the desk. "I wish that were possible." 

"Anything's possible if you want it badly enough. The problem with you is you don't know what you want."

He knew exactly what he wanted. The problem was he was starting to hate the way he had to go about getting it. 

Trey opened the door and a gust of cool air slipped in, ruffling the flyers on the desk. Chelsea made a grab for them. "She has friends now. Friends who are willing to stick up for her."

He paused, the subtle threat in her words putting his instincts on alert. 

She turned toward him, flyers bunched in her hands like colorful fans. "Don't break her heart, Trey. Figure out what you want."

CHAPTER TEN

Dakota curled up in her favorite chair with a hot cup of tea and wondered what she was going to do about Trey. She wasn't going back. He wasn't leaving. They didn't exactly hate each other, but they weren't exactly friends. They couldn't seem to be near each other for more than five minutes without wanting to fall into bed. 

How was she supposed to deal with a guy like that?

From the front of the building shouts rose up, interrupting her brooding. From the sound of it, their landlord, Mr. Castella, was yelling at someone on the sidewalk. Dakota took a sip of tea and wondered who the unlucky victim was this time. Garbage man? The long-haired artist guy who lived below her? Some stranger walking his dog?

Undeniably curious, she went to her front window and looked down.

Alarm clenched her stomach. She couldn't believe it. Her weasel of a landlord was nose-to-nose with Suzette Harold, Dakota's sweet elderly neighbor. Miss Suzette was holding her own, but even from the second story, Dakota could see the death grip she had on her walking cane. She looked on the brink of losing her temper and clobbering Mr. Castella and the man was definitely greedy and vindictive enough to take a great deal of satisfaction in suing her.

She had to do something. 

Dakota tore from of her apartment at top speed and burst out of the building. Hurrying to Miss Suzette, she laid a restraining hand on the woman's batting arm, just in case.

"This...dreadful person refuses to allow me out of my lease, Dakota. I agreed to pay an extra month's rent to cancel it and he was more than happy to take it. Now he wants two month's rent before he'll let me go." Her arm trembled under Dakota's hand. 

"We'll get something figured out," Dakota soothed, even though she was itching to knock a hole in Mr. Castella's head herself.

"My nephew is in town to help me move. Everything was arranged." Miss Suzette pressed her mouth into a thin line, anger radiating from her eyes like lightning bolts. "Shame on you," she said to Mr. Castella, her voice cracking with emotion.

The landlord smirked at her and Dakota was sorely tempted to help her clonk him a good one. "Take a deep breath, Miss Suzette," she said, instead. "I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding."

"The only misunderstanding is this bitch thinking she can renege on a contract," Mr. Castella snarled.

"What did you call her?"

"You heard me," he smirked. 

Outrage incinerated every crumb of common sense from her mind. Dakota shifted her grip from holding Miss Suzette back to helping her raise the cane. 

A large, warm hand wrapped around her wrist. "Steady, ladies," Trey's smooth baritone said calmly from just above her. 

Miss Suzette looked past Dakota's shoulder in surprise. She blinked a couple times, then the startled look in her pale eyes cleared and she shifted her attention back to Mr. Castella.

Dakota didn't even jump. She was too angry. "What are you doing back, Peters?" she said, still glaring at the landlord. 

"I heard from Tony at the gas station that you were in trouble."

"How would Tony know?"

"He heard it from Blaire who saw you when she drove by."

"Well all of you can stay out of this. I have it under control."

"Yes, don't try to stop us, young man," Miss Suzette added. "He has it coming to him." 

 "Yeah, Peters," Mr. Castella said in his smarmy, self-righteous tone. "I don't need your protection from an old lady and stupid cu--"

Before he could finish his insult, Miss Suzette pulled loose from Dakota's hand and brought her cane up with surprising speed. Castella grabbed the polished end in midair and yanked the cane from the older woman's grip. Knocked off balance, she started to fall, but Dakota caught her, pulling her close and turning to protect her from the blow she felt sure was coming.

She winced, bracing for the strike. When nothing happened, she risked looking behind her. Trey had Mr. Castella pinned against him with the cane pressed tightly across the landlord's chest. 

"Apologize," Trey said through clenched teeth.

Mr. Castella's face darkened and he set his mouth into a belligerent line. "Why should I? The way I see it, I'm going to be a rich man by the time all this is over."

"Law suits are a messy business. They drag out forever, the lawyers take most of it, and in the end all you've done is wasted half your life for a handful of change."

"What do you know about it?"

 "More than you. I also know a better way." Trey released his hold on the smaller man and moved back a step.

Mr. Castella brushed himself off as he tried to keep his rat-like face from showing too much interest. "Keep talking."

"Apologize and maybe you'll get more than just advice."

A gleam of curiosity appeared in the landlord's muddy brown eyes and his tough act deflated a little. "I'm sorry," he muttered, glancing at Miss Suzette.

Trey handed the cane to Dakota. "I'll be back."

He stared at Mr. Castella and the other man shrank back. "Let's go." Turning, Trey strode into the building. After a moment's hesitation, Mr. Castella followed him.

"Miss Suzette, are you all right?" Dakota took the other woman's arm, her heart still pounding with fear from the encounter. "Let's get you inside. You look like you could use a drink."

"So do you, dear. But we should probably settle for a nice cup of tea."

"With a splash of whiskey."

"That would be nice." Miss Suzette smiled weakly and lightly patted Dakota's hand where she held onto her shoulder to steady her. "You were very brave."

"Very brave," a breathless male voice said beside her.

Dakota turned to deny it, her legs still felt like rubber, and the words died in her throat. 

George Lambert, AENC Inspector extraordinaire, smiled broadly at her. "Very brave, indeed."

"Georgie!" Miss Suzette cried out. She left Dakota and flung her arms around the inspector. Dakota couldn't have been more amazed if her friend had started singing the National Anthem. The inspector returned the gesture, wrapping the older woman up in a warm embrace.

"Aunt Suzette, I saw the whole thing. Or nearly the whole thing. I pulled up just behind Mr. Peters." He eased himself from his aunt's hug and looked at Dakota. "I am eternally grateful to you, Miss Johnson. That was quick thinking and very brave the way you protected my aunt from harm."

Dakota blinked at him. She still couldn't believe it. "Miss Suzette is your aunt?" 

"I requested this assignment specifically because Aunt Suzette lives in Harts Creek."

Miss Suzette beamed up at him. "I want to move back to Virginia to live with my daughter. Georgie kindly agreed to help."

"I'm honored to do it. I don't want to think about where I'd be if you and Uncle Timothy hadn't moved up here all those years ago."

The inspector grabbed Dakota's hand, startling her. Pumping her arm up and down enthusiastically, he grinned at her, again. "I can say, without reserve Miss Johnson, that you have passed the 'good citizen' category with flying colors. A perfect score of thirty points. With the high quality of your food and the orderliness of your establishment and books, I...well, I shouldn't say this, but I think you have a very good chance of winning. And call me George. Please."

"George?"

"Please."

"Um..."

"You will have a glowing recommendation, I promise. Glowing," he added.

"Glowing is nice." She knew she should be feeling something besides astonishment over this unexpected turn of events, but she just couldn't seem to muster it.

"Is Dakota the young lady you were talking about? The one you were sure was up to something?" Miss Suzette asked.

"I'm proud to say I was wrong," Mr. Lambert declared.

Dakota's mouth went dry. "Up to something?"

"Water under the bridge, Miss Johnson, water under the bridge. You resemble someone I'm distantly familiar with who is anything but an upstanding citizen. Quite the contrary, in fact." 

He drew himself up, the picture of outrage. "Scandal is what that particular woman stands for. Scandal of the worst sort." Then his expression cleared and he beamed at her. "Your resemblance to this individual is nothing but an unfortunate coincidence, I'm happy to say."

A trickle of sweat slid down Dakota's back as she struggled to keep her expression blank. "How wonderful. I mean...dreadful I had no idea." Her face heated from the lie.