Mr. Hyde’s Assets Page 11

  “How—how do I know you’re not going to sell this information to the tabloids?” Jack demanded, still eyeing the folder as if he might snatch it back any moment.

  Austin narrowed his eyes.

  Jack flopped into his chair and put his head in his hands, moaning. “I could lose my job.”

  “Then you’d have no excuse not to go back to school and get your medical degree,” Austin commented with a distinct lack of sympathy.

  He’d hardly glanced at the first page, wishing Jack would go away so he could have some privacy. He wanted to read the file on Candice from cover to cover. Curiosity was eating him alive, and Candice wasn’t satisfying it. Every time he tried to throw a casual reference to the baby at her, she got that suspicious, distrustful look in her damned cat’s eyes.

  Of course, that wasn’t counting the times he’d missed opportunities to gather information because he’d actually forgotten about the baby when he was in her presence.

  Hopefully, this would answer his burning questions.

  “She could send me to prison for this.”

  Austin spared Jack a cutting glance, unwilling to relent just yet. “I could send you to prison, too, little brother. And remember, you wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place if you hadn’t been playing God. That was my… my specimen, dammit.”

  Jack kept his face in his hands, looking lost and hopeless. Austin had to strain to understand his mumbling.

  “You’ve met her. How can you not understand why I couldn’t tell her about her old man’s useless sperm?”

  “You think she’d rather hear about me?” Austin taunted. “This woman lives and breathes money, Jack. She sleeps on satin sheets and didn’t have a clue how to eat pizza.” But she knew how to eat ribs in a way that made his bones dissolve.

  Jack lifted his head, his mouth slack with surprise. Austin groaned to himself, realizing he’d said more than he intended.

  “How do you know all this? Are you saying… are you saying…” Jack rose from the chair and braced his hands on the desk, color returning to his face and hope lighting his eyes. “You’ve gotten to know her, haven’t you?”

  Austin growled and fixed his gaze on the folder, willing his brother to develop amnesia. It didn’t work.

  “By God, you have!” He slapped an open palm on the desk in his excitement, then winced from the sting. “I knew if you just got to know her, you’d like her, you’d see what a great person she is. Her personality is up there with the best of them, and she’s gentle and sweet and—”

  Austin held a palm in the air. “Spare me. I’ll find out for myself, thank you.” No way was he telling Jack that he’d found out plenty so far.

  He then returned his attention to the folder in his hand. A very important folder, one that would, he hoped, lend him a little insight on the intriguing woman who now filled his dreams with lustful yearnings.

  The future mother of his child.

  He’d already discovered a mountain of things, such as her humorous personality and sensual nature. Then there was the way she blushed yet didn’t shy away. Of course, he couldn’t forget the softness of her lips and the honeyed warmth of her mouth or the fullness of her breasts…

  He glanced up to find Jack watching him with a gleam in his eye that Austin immediately recognized. And feared. He glared at him in warning. “I swear to you, Jack, if you attempt to interfere in any way with Candice and me, I’ll kill you with my bare hands. You got me into this mess, but I’m getting me out, without your interference.”

  Jack was smart enough to wipe his expression clean, but he wasn’t smart enough to keep his mouth shut. “You’re not going to hurt her—I won’t let you. She’s been through more than most people, and she doesn’t deserve to be mistreated.”

  “I’m not mistreating her, believe me.” Austin smiled as Jack picked up on the insinuation and began to look alarmed. “All Candice needs is to learn how to live.”

  “By your standards?” Jack laughed in disbelief. “You should have gotten counseling when you were younger, bro. I thought I was scarred, but, man, you are really bad.”

  “She’s—”

  “Not our mother!” Jack shouted, momentarily forgetting that Austin could shake his teeth loose. “Having money doesn’t necessarily make someone a bad person. I thought you were smarter than that. What are you trying to do to her, turn her into a bum like you?”

  Austin squeezed his fist around the folder, unwilling to admit Jack’s words held a smidgen of truth. “Why don’t you go to lunch or something while I study this file? After I’m done, I’ll get out of your hair, and you can put your precious records back under lock and key.”

  Jack, apparently realizing he was getting nowhere, let out an exasperated breath and stomped to the door.

  “Wait!” Austin called out just as Jack grasped the doorknob. There was a question he didn’t think he’d find answered in the file on Candice Vanausdale. “Why is Candice so dead-set against getting remarried?” For a moment, he didn’t think Jack would answer. His mouth clamped shut in a gesture Austin knew well. When Jack got that look, nobody could change his mind.

  Then, just when Austin was about to admit defeat, Jack sighed and shook his head. “I expect she’s had her fill of dominating, bullying tyrants, which is why I’m surprised she likes you.”

  “What does—”

  “It means, dear brother, that if Mrs. Vanausdale did decide to remarry, you would not be her type.” Jack opened the door with a jerk, nearly unbalancing himself. “And, frankly, I don’t think you deserve her.”

  The door slammed shut. Austin frowned at it, pondering Jack’s parting shot. What the hell did he mean? And why had Jack brought Austin into the remarriage issue, anyway?

  Candice wasn’t his type either, and he certainly wasn’t thinking about marrying her.

  Was he?

  Damn Jack.

  Chapter Nine

  Mrs. Merry weather took the news about Austin’s moving in with surprising calm.

  She didn’t throw anything.

  “He’s what?”

  Candice stood her ground, hoping her own control would shame the housekeeper into lowering her voice. “He’s moving into the house with us. You said yourself that I didn’t take those vultures seriously enough, and the incident upstairs proved it.”

  For a moment, the housekeeper’s ample bottom was the only thing visible as she bent over, searching for something in the refrigerator. Finally, she straightened, balancing a honeydew melon in one hand and a bunch of red grapes in the other.

  They were preparing a fruit salad to go with dinner. Candice glanced at the digital clock on the microwave for the hundredth time. Almost four, and no sign of Austin. Maybe he wasn’t coming back. Maybe she had scared him away. Maybe after yesterday at Clyde’s, he’d decided the job was too difficult.

  Maybe he’d decided she was too difficult.

  Mrs. Merryweather thrust the grapes into her hands. “Wash those good—God knows what kind of chemicals they’re covered with.” And then, with barely a pause for breath, she said, “What do we really know about Mr. Hyde? Other than the fact that he knows Dr. Jack?”

  “And has known him practically all his life,” Candice pointed out dryly. She rinsed the grapes carefully, then began pulling the red globes from the stems. Mrs. Merryweather was weakening, she thought. Time to move in for the kill. Keeping her head bowed over the fruit bowl, Candice told her in a subdued voice about the expensive watch Austin had found beneath the window and her suspicions about the owner.

  “Well.” Mrs. Merryweather positioned the melon on the cutting board and delivered a fatal blow with an evil-looking knife. Finally, she put down the knife and wiped her hands on her apron, sighing in defeat. “Sounds like your in-laws, all right. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to have someone staying in the house with us. I’d thought about suggesting a guard dog, but at least Mr. Hyde is housebroken.”

  Candice smiled at Mrs. Merryweather’s
doubtful tone. But her smile faded as she looked at the housekeeper, a loyal employee and, more than that, a friend. Mrs. Merry-weather looked downright worried. “Would you feel better about this if I called Dr. Jack and asked a few questions about Mr. Hyde?”

  “I’d feel better if you called the police or the FBI.”

  Shaking her head, Candice reminded her, “And have everyone knowing we’ve got a man living in the house? I’m not sure we can trust even law enforcement where the media is concerned. It’s human nature for people to… gossip.”

  Grim-faced, Mrs. Merryweather agreed. “I’m afraid you’re right again. The last thing we need is for folks to think you’ve got a live-in boyfriend—your in-laws in particular. We’ll have to be careful.”

  “Yes.” Candice tried not to think about that kiss in the parking lot. It was a risk they shouldn’t have taken. Not that she’d had time to resist.

  “And Mr. Hyde will have to learn to keep his mouth shut.”

  “Of course.”

  “Better call Dr. Jack, so we can both sleep soundly tonight.”

  Candice needed no further urging. Her face felt hot, flushed with guilt and embarrassment. She hastily wiped her hands and made for the phone in the den. The study was closer, but that was Howard’s—had been Howard’s—domain.

  Once in the comfortable den, she propped herself on the sofa arm, pressing a cooling hand to her face as she dialed the phone. Why did she feel so guilty? Because of the other night, or because of this call? The embarrassment she could understand. When Mrs. Merryweather had mentioned Mr. Hyde in conjunction with the words live-in boyfriend, she’d gotten an instant, arousing image of them pressed tightly together. Blushing, she recalled the three times they had already been so. Once in the hall outside his bathroom. Once in her bedroom when he walked her home. And yesterday at Clyde’s Rib Ranch, right in front of God and everybody.

  Boyfriend? She had a sinking feeling that if the media had witnessed her and Mr. Hyde any of those times, they would laugh at the term boyfriend. Nor would he be able to convince them that she wasn’t his type, as he had yesterday’s reporter.

  Lovers. Yes, that would be their impression, however false.

  Tingles rippled along her spine. Heat gathered between her thighs, and her breasts suddenly began to ache, so when Jack’s voice came squeaking out of the receiver, Candice nearly shrieked in surprise.

  She’d been lost in her memories, aroused at her own thoughts about Mr. Hyde. Yesterday had been almost magical. And definitely fun.

  “Dr. Jack? Candice Vanausdale here.” Oh, Lord, her voice. She cleared her throat and prayed the huskiness would disappear.

  “Mrs. Vanausdale!”

  Jack sounded startled to hear from her. And a little nervous? Candice frowned. “I’m calling about your friend, Mr. Hyde.”

  “Austin? What’s he done? Look, I know he’s a little rough around the edges, but you’ve got to give him a chance. He’s like a big, harmless sheepdog, all bark and no bite. Keep him around, and in a week or two you’ll wonder how you got along without him.”

  Candice bit her lip. Indeed. “Actually, I just wanted to ask you a few background questions before… well, we’re thinking of letting him stay in the house, for protection, so can you understand our concern?” She heard the rustling of papers, then a long pause before Jack Cruise spoke again, sounding more agitated than before. Poor Dr. Jack, she thought, he must be having a rough day.

  “Of course I understand. I understand perfectly.”

  “We thought of checking him out with the authorities, but—”

  “No!”

  Candice held the phone away from her ear and frowned harder. He’d actually shouted at her. “As I was about to say, we decided against it, because we don’t dare risk letting the media find out.”

  “Smart thinking.” An unmistakable sigh of relief, then, “What is it you want to know? When you asked if I knew of someone who might fit your requirements, my mind was a total blank. Then I remembered Austin, and bingo! I thought to myself, the big lug would be perfect! I knew he was in between jobs, and—”

  “That was my first question. What, exactly, is Mr. Hyde’s occupation?” Candice toyed with the phone cord, reminding herself that she wasn’t doing anything wrong by asking these harmless questions. But, instinctively, she knew Mr. Hyde’s opinion would differ. He would be hurt to think she didn’t trust him. Really, though, she was doing this for Mrs. Merryweather.

  Okay, so she was also trying to satisfy her own curiosity, and she didn’t have the guts to ask him herself. Curiosity was a very human emotion, wasn’t it?

  Jack’s voice lowered an octave. “He’s a painter, an artist. He’s pretty good, but he hasn’t had much luck so far. Meanwhile, he picks up odd jobs painting signs and such to tide him over until his big break.”

  “Has he ever been married?” Candice held her breath, her face growing hotter by the second. Dr. Jack would know the question had nothing to do with safety.

  There was a stunned silence, more rustling paper. Then came Jack’s hesitant answer. “No.”

  Candice waited, mentally willing him to volunteer more information. Did she dare ask why not? Would Jack know? Or would he tell her outright that it was none of her business?

  “As far as I know, he hasn’t found the right woman. Austin…” Jack trailed off into silence, as if he suddenly realized he was about to reveal more than she had asked for.

  “You were saying?” She was amazed at her own persistence. It was so unlike her. Was it a sign of the new and improved Candice Vanausdale?

  Jack sighed. “Look, if he’s been sneaking women into his apartment, I’m sure you can just have a word with him about it.”

  Candice smothered a giggle with the back of her hand, recalling their stealthy meeting. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. I was only curious. This might take a while, you know, before the court makes a decision, and I didn’t want to take him away from his… for this to interfere with his personal life.” What a lame excuse, and Dr. Jack would surely know it. She had never been a very good liar.

  But Jack appeared to have a lot on his mind, for he didn’t sound suspicious at all as he said, “No, no current girlfriend.” He cleared his throat. “That I know of. As for moving him in, I’d give that some thought if I were you.”

  A thrill of alarm shot through her. She gripped the receiver. “Why?” If Dr. Jack didn’t trust him…

  “Well, he’s messy, for one thing.”

  Candice dropped the receiver onto the sofa, then brought it to her ear again, her voice incredulous, “What?”

  “Messy. A slob.” He laughed nervously. “Believe me, I’ve lived with the guy.”

  Messy? She’d seen no evidence of slovenliness inside his apartment. Although his truck had looked as if he’d lived in it for weeks. Not that she had minded. On the contrary, she’d found it quirkily appealing. No, this was something else entirely. Dr. Jack was making excuses, silly ones at that. For some reason he didn’t want Austin Hyde living in her house, and that only served to pique her curiosity.

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “Oh. Well, let me see…”

  Candice waited. And waited. She could hear the drumming of his fingers on something. Then more nervous rustling of papers. What was he doing with those papers? And why would he be nervous talking about a life-long friend—one he had recommended for the job?

  “He sleepwalks.”

  This time, Candice laughed outright. “Dr. Jack, I hardly think sleepwalking is a danger, or an intolerable habit. Nor is messiness. Mrs. Merryweather will set him straight on the latter.” And I’ll help with the sleepwalking. The thought was delicious and wicked. Exciting. Just the possibility of tucking Mr. Hyde back into bed sent a breathless rush of pleasure coursing through her body.

  What did he wear at night? His briefs? Pajamas? Nothing at all? Her guess would be a pair of his favorite faded pajama bottoms, the kind that tied in the front and rode low on hi
s lean hips, leaving bare that sexy line of belly hair that disappeared into—

  She slid from the arm of the sofa onto the cushions and took a deep, shaky breath. This was insane. Totally reckless. Irresponsible. Highly unlike her.

  And she knew telling herself these things would not make a difference. For years she’d lived like a porcelain doll, something for Howard to shine and buff to perfection or to ridicule and abuse when he took the notion. And then, for the past year, she’d been a recluse.

  Maybe she still couldn’t go out into the light, but she could bring a tiny spark inside. A spark that she suspected could start a forest fire without much provocation.

  “Dr. Jack… he’s harmless, isn’t he?”

  Jack’s answer was filled with resignation. “Yeah, yeah, he’s harmless. Austin wouldn’t harm a flea.”

  ———

  “I oughta flush you down the toilet and tell Andre you got lost,” Austin muttered, holding the furry animal by the scruff of its neck. Unafraid, the ferret stared back, twitching its whiskers and occasionally pedaling her feet uselessly in the air.

  “It would serve him right for leaving you with me—and for leaving this mess.” His voice softened. “But I guess it’s not your fault, huh?”

  According to the note Austin had found on the kitchen table, Andre had been accepted into an art program in London and didn’t expect to return for at least six months. He’d packed and left in a hurry, leaving the apartment in shambles and leaving his pet ferret in Austins trusted care.

  He brought the animal closer, narrowing his eyes in question. “Did you make this mess?” The ferret squirmed and licked Austin’s nose, not in the least intimidated by his growl. Ferrets were lovable creatures, but Austin knew from experience they could create havoc if left alone. Maybe the mess was the combined result of Andre’s quick packing and Lucy’s search for food. But why place all the blame on this helpless creature?

  With a sigh, he placed the ferret against his chest and stroked her soft, musk-scented fur. She snuggled against him and began licking his neck as he crooned, “Lucy, Lucy, what am I going do with you?”