Helene’s mouth opened and closed without a sound coming out as if she were in shock.
Andrew released the doctor’s shoulder, hoping he didn’t wet the seat. “Well, now you know.”
“I most certainly do,” the doctor said. He edged away from Andrew. He looked like he was about to say something, then changed his mind, and strode off. The haste in his steps removed all dignity from his retreat.
With an amused grin, Andrew plopped in the chair on the other side of Helene. “I told you he was a douche. You’re welcome.”
“Which part am I supposed to be thanking you for? The part where you lied about being my boyfriend? Or when you threatened my date?” Helene didn’t get angry often, but she’d had all day to fume over the kiss the man before her had given her earlier that day. That kiss had not only dominated her thoughts all afternoon, but it had killed any excitement she’d had about going out with Gil.
He crossed his arms across his chest. “You were cringing every time he touched you.”
“That’s not true,” she protested, hating that it was. “Okay, so it wasn’t going well, but that doesn’t mean I wanted your help or that big, stupid, smug smile you’re beaming at me. You should be apologizing. You embarrassed me.”
His smile dimmed. “It was for your own good. A date like that wasn’t going to get better. They never do. Guys are assholes.”
Helene waved her hand at him. “You’d know that better than I would—being both yourself.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as if he were about to smile again. “My intention was not to embarrass you. That guy was a creep.”
Helene took a deep calming breath, a long gulp of water, then another deep breath. She’d never had a man jump to her protection because it had never been an issue. “I appreciate that you wanted to help me, but your delivery sucked. I can only imagine what Gil is going to tell everyone back at the clinic. My uncle thought my presence at the hospital would help, but it’s more like I’m single-handedly fueling the gossip mill.”
“Your uncle?”
“Are you going to pretend you don’t know who I am?”
“I’m not really the pretend-anything type.”
That much she was beginning to believe. “I’m Dr. Clarence Stiles’s niece.”
She could have sworn he muttered, “That figures,” but she wasn’t certain.
“What did you say?”
“How long have you worked for him?”
“Why does that matter?” If he was after her uncle, she wasn’t going to give him any information.
“I’m not sure it does.”
Helene threw her hands up in the air with exasperation. “I know why you’re talking to me.”
“You do?”
“And it won’t get you anywhere.”
“No?” The smile returned to his face.
“No. Go back and tell whoever you’re working for that trying to dig up dirt on my uncle was a waste of time. He’s a good man who has not only run a successful clinic for over thirty years, but he has also done a lot for this community. Ask around, you won’t find a single person who doesn’t love him.”
“Really? Care to test that?”
There was a challenge in his eyes that was infuriating and sexy at the same time. “Sure.”
Andrew waved a waitress over. Of course, it had to the be the one that only a few minutes earlier she’d seen write her phone number on a napkin for him. The woman’s expression turned guarded when Andrew asked her if she knew Clarence Stiles.
“Everyone knows him. He owns the largest private clinic on the island.”
“How would you describe him?” Andrew pressed.
The woman shifted from one foot to another before answering. “He has done many good things for the people of Aruba.”
“But?”
She looked around as if making sure she was not overheard. “Some people are too powerful to have an opinion about. They just are. I’m sorry, was that all? I have to get back to the kitchen.”
“Yes, thank you,” Andrew said slowly.
The exchange left Helene feeling uncomfortable and more than a little disloyal to her uncle. She took a few bills from her wallet and put them on the table. “Would you mind making sure the check gets paid? I have to go.”
Andrew dropped another bill and joined her. “It’ll be fine. I’ll walk out with you.”
She made it all the way outside the restaurant before she spun on him. “When I said I have to go, I meant without you.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “She didn’t say anything bad about your uncle.”
Helene waved a hand. “It wouldn’t have mattered if she had. Tell her that when you sleep with her later.”
He frowned. “When I what?”
Angry with herself for even caring, Helene glared at him. “I saw you take her number.”
His hand went to the pocket where he’d placed the napkin. “And you thought we were hooking up?”
“I didn’t think anything because I don’t even know you. I couldn’t care less about who you do what with.”
The stupid grin returned to his face. “Liar. Don’t worry, I didn’t like the idea of creeper doctor touching you, either.”
With a frustrated growl, Helene spun away and started walking. She hadn’t brought a car because Gil had picked her up; she’d worry about how to get home later. Right then all she cared about was getting as far away from Andrew Smith as she could. She halted without looking back at him. “Is Andrew Smith even your name?”
“Andrew is.”
I knew it. She forced herself to start walking again.
“Helene?” he called out softly.
She stopped again. “What?”
“You forgot something.”
She instantly felt for her purse and was relieved she’d remembered to grab it. She opened it and did a quick check for her wallet and phone. By the time she looked up he was beside her. “I have everything,” she said in confusion.
“Oh, then I forgot something.” With that he cupped her face between his hands and kissed her with a boldness that shocked her into submission. His tongue teased her lips to open, and they did as if it were the most natural thing to do. As if kissing a complete stranger in the middle of a parking lot was something she did regularly. He explored her mouth with a gentleness she hadn’t expected and with a thoroughness that had her melting against him.
A young female voice called out loudly, “Hypocrite.”
Andrew broke off the kiss but continued to look into her eyes, his ragged breath warming her skin. “She’s right. I am. But you do something to me.”
Helene stepped back, covering her mouth with shaking fingers. He did something to her, too. He made her forget who he was and why it was important to stay away from him. “You need to stop kissing me.”
“I’m trying,” he said without humor. He studied her face. “Do you have a way to get home?”
“I’m not getting in a car with you.”
“How about a cab I call for you?”
“Who are you?”
He seemed to consider his next words carefully before saying, “Andrew Barrington.”
“Did someone send you to dig up dirt on my uncle?”
“No.” She sagged with relief until he added, “They sent me to find a nurse who used to work for him.”
“Why?”
Another long pause. “My brother died at your uncle’s clinic twenty-nine years ago.”
It took a moment to absorb what he was saying before asking, “How?”
“He was born prematurely.”
“That’s sad, but I don’t understand why you’d think it was the clinic’s fault.”
“It probably wasn’t. My brother asked me to find a nurse who worked there at that time. He thinks she might know something. I honestly can’t imagine what he expects her to know, but I did promise to find her.”
Helene thought back to the reason her uncle had asked her to work for him i
n the first place. “This might sound crazy, but someone was trying to bribe people in my department. Did you do that?”
“That wasn’t me.”
“Could it have been your family?”
He shrugged. Shrugged as if not knowing was acceptable. He’d already lied about who he was, would he lie about what he knew? She didn’t want to think so, but she also couldn’t believe him if that put her uncle in jeopardy.
My uncle would know how much of this is true. And maybe this is actually a better scenario than he thought it was. He thought someone was trying to take his clinic down, but instead it might just be a family who wants to know how their child died. Surely explaining something like that was an unfortunate side of working in health care, and her uncle would be comfortable with handling it.
“Would you come to dinner tomorrow night and meet my uncle? Perhaps your questions would be answered directly that way.”
“Why would he tell me the truth?”
“Because he did nothing wrong. He has dedicated his life to helping people. When you meet him you’ll see he isn’t in this business for the money. He gives back more than he makes. If something did go wrong with your brother’s birth, he would have done everything possible to save him.”
He ran the back of his hand across her jaw and down the curve of her neck. “You sell him well.”
“Because he’s a good man,” she said, feeling a little like someone who had gone too deep under the water and could no longer tell which way was up or down. If I’m not supposed to be with this man, why does his touch feel so damn good?
Andrew called a cab, and they waited in the parking lot, barely talking or looking at each other. Helene had waited twenty-six years to meet Mr. Right. She chewed her bottom lip and fought the realization that Mr. Right Here, Mr. Right Now . . . Mr. Take Me On the Hood of That Car . . . was now what she craved.
When the cab arrived she ducked into it quickly without giving him a chance to kiss her again or say anything else. If his lips found hers again, she feared she’d drag him into the cab and let everything else figure itself out after she discovered if what she’d been putting off was as good as everyone said it was.
He paid the driver while she was settling in. She rushed to tell him she didn’t want his money, but it was too late.
He knocked on the window of the cab and handed her his phone number on a corner of the napkin the waitress had written her number on. If that wasn’t a reminder that she needed to get control of herself, she didn’t know what was.
“Call me with details about tomorrow,” he said, his eyes holding hers intently.
“I will,” she promised and rolled up the window before she said anything that would reveal how much she wanted to see him again.
Chapter Four
The next morning Andrew made meeting the private investigator part of his morning run. When he’d contacted the man via text he’d been told to go to the rocky side of the island and look for a man with black hair and a short beard just after the lighthouse. No one fitting that description was in the area and as Andrew dropped down to a walk, his senses went into high alert. Although there wasn’t a person in sight, he knew he wasn’t alone.
A decade of learning how to scout ahead without being seen had left him acutely aware of when there were eyes on him. No weapon. No armor. All he could do was wait for a movement and drop to the sand if he needed to. Beyond that, he would wait. There was no reason to think he was in danger—yet.
A tall blonde walked out from behind the lighthouse. In a sarong and sandals, she approached him, a colorful beach bag at her side. She looked like just another tourist in search of a sandy spot to sunbathe. The confident way she approached kept Andrew on alert. He couldn’t pin down what made him not trust her, but he remained ready to hit the sand or her if he had to.
She stopped a couple feet away. “Stand down, Marine. I’m one of the good guys.”
He didn’t like how amused she was, like she was in a private joke he hadn’t been told. “Do you work for the Shane Agency?”
She laid a towel out on the sand and sat down on it. “You’re so cute. Sit down.”
“No thanks,” he said gruffly. “So, who are you?”
“A friend. A frustrated one, to be honest. Your family is not easy to help.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If I do this myself, I’ll be blamed for the fallout.” She took out a paperback book and laid it open on her lap as if she’d been interrupted while reading. “People say they want the truth, but they don’t. Take what happened in Iraq. I completely understand why you went along with the cover-up. The truth would devastate the families.”
Fury surged through Andrew. He stepped forward, spraying sand across her legs as he did. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Had Ahearn sent her? Was he being tested?
Calm and cool, she brushed the sand off. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. You don’t believe that, but it’s true.”
Andrew turned and started to walk away from her. If she was there to see if he would confirm or deny the details, the best response was to disengage.
“So sensitive. Who knew? Unfortunately, we’re not done yet. I’m not here about why you left the Marines. I’m here about Helene Franklin.”
That’s it. Andrew spun back and advanced on her, not stopping until he was towering above her. “I’m listening, but I’d better like what you say.”
The woman lifted her glasses just enough to study his face. “You sound like Asher when you’re angry. It’s a shame you’re not closer, the two of you have a lot in common.”
If she’d been a man, he’d have his hands around his throat, but instead he refocused on what she’d said that he actually cared about. “What about Helene?”
The woman rose to her feet, brushed herself off, and repacked her bag. After slinging it over her shoulder, she said, “If you’re not careful, you will get her killed.” Andrew made a grab for the woman’s arm, but she evaded him and added quickly, “Easy, tiger, I’m not the one who would hurt her. I’m on your side.” She took out a black business card with a white phone number on one side and tossed it into the sand at his feet. As he rose from picking it up, he heard the hum of a helicopter, nothing unusual wherever there were tourists paying for tours, but this one was swooping down. She’d dashed just far enough away that when a rope fell she was able to grab it and be pulled out of his reach even though he ran to her.
As she rose, she yelled out, “Get a gun, Andrew. You’ll need it. And don’t trust anything her uncle says. Be the Barrington who actually impresses me.” She waved before being hoisted up into the helicopter like some acrobat act.
Until then, Andrew would have said not much surprised him anymore. However, he stood there, watching her helicopter disappear over the water and struggled to wrap his head around what had just happened. The whole exchange felt like a staged scene in a movie, a prank by one of his brothers. Except none of his brothers had much of a sense of humor, and she’d known things she couldn’t.
Or did she?
She hadn’t given particulars. It could be that she wanted him to think she knew more than she did.
Why?
And what did she mean about getting Helene killed?
“Andrew Barrington?” a man asked from behind him.
Andrew spun and delivered a powerful kick to the man’s chest that sent him flying backward and landing in the sand. Andrew was on him, lifting him partially up by the collar of his shirt while shaking him. “Who’s asking?”
“Creston Bray, from the Shane Agency. We have an appointment today,” the man sputtered.
Black hair. Black beard. Andrew released him back into the sand. “Did you see the woman who was here a moment ago?”
Creston shook his head and slowly, shakily, rose to his feet. “I didn’t see anyone. This beach is always deserted at this time of day which is why I chose it.”
“Who did you tell that you
were meeting me here?”
“No one.”
Andrew flashed the black card in front of Creston’s face. “What can you tell me about this?”
The man’s eyes darted from the black business card to Andrew’s face and back. He wiped sweat from his brow. “Does it have a name on it?”
With a growl of frustration, Andrew pocketed the card. “Is there anything you do fucking know?”
Helene had risen before the sun and been asking herself since then if suggesting Andrew meet her uncle had been wise. On the elevator ride up to her uncle’s office at the clinic, she wondered again if there was a chance that Andrew, if that was his real name, had been manipulating her with meeting her uncle as his end goal the whole time.
By no stretch of the imagination could Andrew be described as stable. In between acting like he was attracted to her and couldn’t stay away from her, she’d sensed moments when he seemed dangerously angry and on the verge of real violence. That should not turn me on as much as it does.
Why couldn’t he be ugly? Why does this have to be so complicated?
Dangerous men aren’t even my taste.
Do I even have a taste?
Oh, my God, I do and it’s for really, really messed-up men.
Shit.
She greeted her uncle’s secretary, Marcy, and asked if he was available.
“Always for you, sweetie. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
The door opened and her uncle waved her in. “Good. I was hoping you’d come see me. I heard about something that we need to discuss.”
Double shit. Does he know about Andrew? Is he upset that I waited until now to tell him?
Her uncle closed the door and pointed toward two chairs off to one side of his office. “Have a seat.”
Helene did so and folded her hands on her lap. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll just tell him what I know. “Uncle Clarence, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you last night, but it was late when I got back . . .”
He took the seat across from her. “I don’t blame you for not saying anything. You were put in an awkward position.”
“Yes,” she said with a vehement nod. “Nothing like this ever happened to me before.”