Chapter 15
Zara loved nothing more than a good laugh…unless it was a good wave or a fantastic night in bed. But even she had never laughed quite the way Jim was laughing right now. He doubled over, holding his stomach, quaking and weeping actual tears.
The worst part was, this time she couldn’t join in. She was too shaken up by that surprise kiss. Maybe it shouldn’t have shocked her so much. There had been something simmering between her and Jim all along. But he was always so reserved and serious that she hadn’t expected him to act on it.
He didn’t look either reserved or serious right now.
She watched him laugh so hard he had to sit down on her couch.
His clothes looked different, she realized, having previously been so preoccupied with the Mercedes threat that she hadn’t paid any attention.
Instead of his usual tan work clothes, he wore a pair of pleated trousers made from an expensive olive fabric.
His shirt—black, with a crisp white tee underneath, looked equally luxe. He cleaned up well, disturbingly so.
His laughter finally subsided and he looked up at her, wiping his eyes. “Thank you for that. I’m sorry to break it to you that I’m not from another planet. At least, not literally.”
What the hell did that mean? “Okay. I’m very glad to hear that I didn’t just kiss an alien. Although if I did…”
He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Then aliens are good kissers,” she finished lightheartedly. “No regrets.”
“That’s good to hear. Because if I get my way, we’ll be doing that again.” Something in the way he said that told her he was very used to getting his way.
“We’ll see,” she said noncommittally. While the kiss had been spectacular, she didn’t intend to repeat it until she knew Jim’s whole story. If that was even his name. “So do you know that couple in the Mercedes? Who are they and what are they after? She kept mentioning her brother.”
He sobered and stood up, brushing off his pants. He’d probably gotten some sand in them. No matter how many times she lectured Mia about showering off thoroughly after a surf session, it was impossible to keep all the sand out of their house.
“What did they look like?” he asked, his tone deadly serious.
“You know that movie Toy Story?”
“No.”
“Are you sure you aren’t an alien?” Exasperated, she flung up her hands. “Did you grow up in a cult or something?”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t give into the smile that threatened. “What about Toy Story?”
“There’s a character who’s an astronaut, Buzz Lightyear, but like, a toy astronaut. Ridiculously broad shoulders and dark hair with a cowlick. This man looked like that.”
“And the woman?”
“Blond, high-maintenance. Maybe mid-forties, but she’d probably slap me if I said so.
She said some very insulting things to me that made no sense.
She called me a gold-digger. I’d like to know how working at the Royal Leilani makes me a gold-digger.
She really didn’t appreciate my lecture on feminism. ”
His lips twitched again. They were very well-formed, she noticed, with a firmness and determination to them that she found very sexy, especially now that he’d tidied up his facial hair.
His short beard set off the shape of his mouth quite beautifully.
He must have cleaned up in order to find a new job.
“I wish I’d been there to hear that. For a few reasons.”
“So you know who they are? I got the impression that she was the boss and he was doing her bidding.”
“I believe you’re correct about that.”
“It sounds like you know her. Is she actually your sister? You don’t look much alike.”
He looked at the floor, then back up at her. His expression was wary, and she got the sense that he was extra nervous about what her reaction was going to be.
“It’s a long story.” He drew in a slow breath, as if he was about to step off a cliff into the complete unknown.
“Go on,” she encouraged him. “It can’t be worse than being an alien…probably.”
Her joke eased his tension, and he was just about to speak when a knock sounded at her door. She ran to the window and peeked out.
“It’s them!” she gasped. The couple from the Mercedes stood on her lanai, shaking off their umbrellas. “Hide!” she ordered Jim. “You obviously don’t want her to find you.”
“That’s not—”
“Just do what I say, for once!” She shoved him ahead of her, guiding him into her bedroom, then shut the door. “If I yell, you’re welcome to come out and help, but until then let me handle it,” she said through the door.
He said something else, but she ignored him and flew back to the front door. Was it a good idea to leave a possible extraterrestrial in her bedroom while she confronted two strangers who had threatened her? Maybe not. But she had a habit of operating on gut instinct, for better or worse.
Besides, obviously she didn’t think Jim was an alien. She’d just said that to prod him into telling her the truth about himself. It had almost worked, until these two clowns showed up.
She flung open the door and stared at the two unwanted guests on her lanai. “I have nine-one-one cued up and ready to call,” she told them, waving her phone in the air. “So don’t even think about doing anything reckless.”
“You just opened the door. Are you really going to lecture us about being reckless?” The blond woman gave a disdainful sniff. Amazing how she could express so much contempt with just her nostrils.
“Did you follow me here?”
“You’re very full of yourself, aren’t you?” The woman peered past her. “Why would we have any interest in you?”
“You are at my house,” Zara pointed out. “Very much uninvited, by the way.”
“I want to talk to my brother. That’s all. Just talk. If you would step aside, I’ll make it worth your while.” She gestured with her head toward her broad-shouldered bodyguard, who pulled a wad of cash from his pocket.
“Interesting family dynamics.” Zara lifted one eyebrow. “You have to pay strangers in order to get a word with your brother?”
“Families are complicated. Especially families like ours. Do we have a deal?”
Buzz Lightyear held out the cash, so close Zara could smell the scent of dollar bills. Make that hundred-dollar bills.
Zara didn’t budge. “I could certainly use that money, but I have no idea where your brother is, or who your brother is. But if you’d like to hand it over out of the kindness of your heart, you could probably use the good karma.”
The woman smiled at her thinly. “Bless your heart. You’re trying to get more out of me, aren’t you?” She inclined her head toward her bodyguard, who pulled out another pile of cash from yet another pocket.
Zara’s eyes went wide. That was a lot of hundreds. Her first responsibility was to her family, not to Jim. Was it ethical or stupid to turn down this money? All they wanted was to talk…or so they said. She told her body to move to allow them to come in.
But it didn’t budge.
She tried again. This is a direct order. Move your ass. Take the money.
Nope. That was the problem with operating from the gut. When her gut had decided someone wasn’t trustworthy, her brain didn’t have much sway anymore.
But she could get something from this situation. “Sorry, I can’t help you. But I can give him a message if I happen to see him. You’ll have to tell me more about him. Name, description?”
“Don’t play dumb,” snapped the woman. “You know perfectly well who he is. Why else would you be protecting him? You think he’s going to marry you and you’ll become the wife of a billionaire?
You?” Her gaze traveled from Zara’s face down to her bare feet.
“You’re a hot mess and Lincoln’s a clean freak. It’s never going to happen.”
Zara ignored the insults—she’d heard worse—and focused on the important part. “Did you say Lincoln?”
Lincoln…Link. One piece clicked into place. These folks must be looking for Lincoln Kerr, the man the Japanese guy had mentioned. For some reason they thought—
“Hi Maureen,” said a deep voice from behind her. She whirled around. Jim stood a few feet back, his face unreadable.
What the…
Bits of detail flickered through her mind.
Jim’s lack of concern about getting fired.
The expensive clothes he was wearing today.
His presence at the Seaside Paradise. He was probably staying there, not working there.
His knowledge of expensive watches. He probably owned one of those Patek Philippes himself, the sneaky bastard.
Something else occurred to her. He’d probably paid her balance at the Urgent Care with his black card, or whatever the billionaire level above black card might be.
This man, the one she’d just kissed, wasn’t Jim Brennan, gardener. He was Lincoln Kerr, billionaire. She felt utterly betrayed.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “You can let them in.”
“Sorry, this is my house and I don’t want them to come in. If you want to talk to them, you can leave. Now,” she ordered, when he didn’t move.
“Zara—”
“Lincoln!” she snapped.
“I can explain.”
“You don’t need to explain anything. I don’t care.
I don’t like liars. I’ve had enough of that in my life.
” Her voice choked on those words. Her father was an artist when it came to lying.
Cons, scams, frauds. He’d even wanted her to lie for him, to give him an alibi, but she’d refused to commit perjury.
She’d told him to take a plea that would give him less time in prison, and promised to take care of the kids until he got out.
That was how important honesty was to her.
And to think, she’d kissed lying Lincoln Kerr. And really freaking enjoyed it, too.