One Baby, Two Secrets. Barbara Dunlop
Читать онлайн книгу.
moved back to the jaw-dropping woman named Kate. He pondered her notice-me appearance. Her sister had died last week? And she was at a party, in a place like this, dressed like that?
Nice.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Brody offered to Quentin.
Quentin gave a shrug. “She was fun, I suppose. But if she hadn’t got knocked up, it would have been over a long time ago.”
Just when Brody thought his opinion of Quentin couldn’t sink any further, it did.
“Did she live here?” It seemed a long shot that Francie was involved in the Beast Blue Designs’ intellectual property theft. But information was information, and Brody was gathering all he could.
“I let her use the gatehouse. Made it easier. I could sometimes see the kid when I had time.”
Between drunken bashes? Brody bit back the sarcastic retort. Quentin’s personal life was none of his business.
“What’s the sister’s story?” asked Rex, ogling Kate from the tips of her purple highlighted hair to the heels of her glittering sandals.
Brody found himself doing the same. He wasn’t proud of the behavior, but he was mesmerized. Even in that gaudy getup, she was a knockout.
“Don’t know,” said Quentin. “Don’t really care.”
“She showed up out of the blue?” asked Rex.
“Apparently she came down from Seattle.”
“Had you met her before?” Although this Kate person had nothing to do with his investigation into Quentin’s gaming technology company, Brody found himself curious.
“Never even knew she existed,” said Quentin.
Suspicion grew thick in Rex’s tone. “So today was the first time you met her?”
“You want me to check her ID?”
“Being Francie’s sister doesn’t entitle her to anything,” Rex said. “You can’t hand out your money to every person who crosses your path.”
“It’s a whole lot easier than fighting them.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Path of least resistance. Besides, the money train’s not about to derail.”
Brody clenched his jaw then downed the remainder of his Shet Select single malt. The taste grounded him, reminding him of his home in the Scottish Highlands, of his parents, his brother and his purpose for being here. Quentin’s money train might still be going, but only because he’d ripped off the Calder family’s technology.
Brody was here to prove Quentin had stolen from his family. And he was determined to send that money train right off the nearest cliff.
“You have better things to spend it on than opportunistic gold diggers,” said Rex.
“Really? Name one.” Quentin then turned his attention back to Vera, Miss Ventura County. “Think I’ll get me a look at that baby owl.”
Brody reminded himself to stay in character. He gave a salacious grin of approval to Quentin. “Go get ’er.”
Quentin smiled in anticipation, polished off his martini and rose to his feet.
Two steps later, Kate Dunhern moved into his path.
“Hello, Quentin,” she said.
Her tone was smooth, cultured, far different than Brody had expected. He thought he detected an underlying trace of nervousness. He wondered why she was nervous. Was she going to make a pitch for a payout right here and now?
“Hello, Kate,” Quentin responded in a level tone. “Good to see you.”
“Thanks for inviting me.”
He gestured expansively around the deck. “It’s a party.”
“I wondered if there was somewhere we could talk?”
Quentin’s gaze flicked back to the sexy Vera. “Depends on...”
While Kate obviously waited for him to finish the sentence, Vera caught his attention and sent a friendly smile his way.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said to Kate.
Though she tried to hide it, her disappointment was obvious. “Uh, sure. Okay.”
“Catch you later.” He moved past her.
Rex made to rise, but Brody was quicker. He didn’t know what he hoped to gain from talking to the sister of a woman who’d had nothing to do with Beast Blue Designs, but he didn’t want Rex hitting on her. He didn’t know why he felt that way. But it didn’t really matter.
He stepped up in front of her.
“Brody Herrington,” he said, using the last name he’d temporarily adopted from his grandmother.
She took a long moment to focus on him. Then she seemed to study him. While she did that, he detected an unexpected intelligence behind her eyes.
“Kate Dunhern,” she finally responded.
“Can I get you a drink?”
She appeared to be gathering her bearings, even sizing him up. Then her mouth suddenly curved into a bright smile. In a flash, her assessing intellect was replaced by overexuberance and friendliness.
“Love one,” she said. “Champagne?”
He couldn’t help but puzzle at the cause of her transformation. Had she recognized his designer jeans? Had she noted his expensive watch and shoes and decided he was worth chatting up? Whatever it was, now she was behaving the way he’d expected when he first saw her purple-streaked hair and her crystal-studded sandals.
He offered his arm. “This way.”
She took it, her bright pink manicured nails shimmering against his skin.
He did a double take at the distinctly sensual image and felt a spike of lust shoot through him. It was a normal reaction, he told himself. She was a gorgeous woman in an outfit designed to display it. She was likely disappointed at losing Quentin’s attention, but she had the attention of every other red-blooded man here. If it was money she was after, there was plenty of it unattached and at the party.
“You’re a friend of Quentin’s?” she asked in a bright, friendly tone.
“An acquaintance,” said Brody. He shouldn’t, nor did he have any desire to lay claim to more.
“Are you in the video gaming business?”
“The entertainment industry. I’m a concert promoter from Europe.”
“Scotland?” she guessed.
He’d wished he could keep it more generic, but his accent gave him away. He could only hope the fake profession and fake name would keep Quentin from making a connection to his father or, more significantly, to his family’s ownership of Quentin’s competitor Shetland Tech Corporation.
“You got me,” he answered.
“I’m guessing it’s not classical music you’re promoting.” Her gaze seemed to take in the party which was growing more raucous by the hour.
Brody knew it was only a matter of time until a fight broke out or someone got tossed into the pool. Breakage was a given. Quentin seemed to have a cleanup crew on perpetual standby to deal with whatever carnage was wrought at the late-night parties.
“Rock ’n roll,” he answered.
“Anyone I might recognize?”
“Confidential, I’m afraid.”
It was his pat answer whenever anyone pressed for details. Luckily, so far nobody had probed further. He had enough money to buy credibility, and he