Free Marry Me by Cheryl Holt Page B

spectacular. He couldn't wait to do it again. How could she not want to?
    He sat at the kitchen table, a pitiful figure out of ideas. They had a maid who lived in the rambling mansion, and he considered summoning her to make him lunch, but he was too irritable to dawdle in the house.
    He'd risen, having decided to grab a jacket and go for a drive—he would not race to Boulder; he would not humiliate himself by showing up on her stoop like some spurned swain—but his brother prevented an escape.
    Dustin entered the room, and he was holding a large envelope. He smacked it down on the table and pulled up a chair.
    "I haven't seen you in a few days," he said.
    "So?"
    "I thought maybe you'd taken off for St. Barts without a good-bye."
    "I didn't go."
    "How come?"
    Lucas shrugged, not about to admit that he was pining away over Faith Benjamin.
    Dustin glared, a familiar expression of exasperation on his face. Even as boys, they'd never gotten along, and since they were both lazy and spoiled, they were constantly at odds. They sparred incessantly, each feeling the other wasn't assuming his share of the responsibilities that had burgeoned since their father's death.
    "I was wondering," Dustin said, "what's happening with the Faith Benjamin investigation."
    "I have it under control."
    "Really? What's in the works? We've been sitting here in Denver for two weeks, but you haven't done what you told us you'd do."
    "Meaning?"
    "You had planned to hire that attorney, Carolyn Stone."
    "Stone was an idiot."
    "Okay, so retain someone else."
    "I don't know if we should."
    "Why not?"
    "It's complicated."
    "No, it's not."
    Dustin opened the envelope and withdrew a stack of photos. They were pictures of Lucas with Faith:  Lucas picking her up at her house, the two of them getting out of the Porsche at the B & B, eating in the restaurant. There was even a shot of them walking up the stairs to their room.
    The final one was of them leaving the hotel, so Dustin had had a detective lurking, watching until Lucas's tryst was over.
    Lucas's blood boiled.
    "You had somebody spying on me?" he hissed.
    "Yes," Dustin replied, unabashed.
    "What were you trying to prove?"
    "That you're fucking her," Dustin crudely spat, "rather than dealing with her."
    "Whatever I'm doing—or not doing—it's none of your damn business."
    "Are you kidding me? The little thief has millions of dollars that belong to us, and you claim it's not my business if you're sleeping with her instead of having her arrested?"
    "She's not who we thought she was."
    "I can't believe you said that to me." Dustin shook his head in disgust. "She's got you wrapped around her finger."
    "I merely spent some time with her so I could learn what she's really like."
    "And what is she like? " Dustin sneered.
    "She's a very normal, very pleasant person."
    "Pleasant!" Dustin reached into the envelope again and pulled out some papers. "I started my own investigation. She and that foster mother of hers, that Grace Green, are a couple of Vegas con artists."
    "You're wrong," Lucas loyally insisted.
    "Am I? Read the report. When Grace Green was younger, she worked as a stripper and high-end escort. She had a gambling problem, and she wasted all her money on black jack. She took in foster kids so she could pay her rent."
    "That's not true."
    "You don't think a pair with that sort of background couldn't dupe an elderly old man? You don't think they couldn't see a mark like him from a mile away?"
    "You're wrong," Lucas repeated, though he wasn't quite as confident as he had been.
    From the moment he'd met Faith, she'd played him like a violin. She'd flirted and tantalized and intrigued, while pretending to be shy and restrained. She'd come on hot, then cold, then hot, and Lucas hadn't been able to resist the challenge she presented.
    Was it all an act? Had she been toying with him for some purpose he didn't understand? He'd assumed she possessed some genuine affection for him. Had he imagined it?
    "She must be