Double Dealing (2013)

Breaking and entering was easier than he had expected.

Jed Waters immediately corrected his exaggeration as he jumped down from the top of the six-foot wrought-iron fence that surrounded the Barkeley estate. He was only trespassing—and in broad daylight. Hell, he thought. Whatever the label for the crime, it was still no way for a vice president of Atlantic Developers to earn a living. But then old Merriman Barkeley always had said eccentricity was the spice of life. He’d proven that long ago. He was the only member of Philadelphia’s premier Main Line family who insisted on living across the Delaware River in New Jersey. Unfortunately, Merriman’s latest eccentricity had been a whopper, and it was costing Atlantic a good deal of time, money, and aggravation. Jed hoped a sensible discussion would correct the matter with a minimum of fuss. The trick, though,
was to get Merriman to agree to talk. So far, the old man had neatly eluded all phone calls and letters from the company’s lawyers.

Never do business with friends or family, or certifiable crackpots, Jed reminded himself for the tenth time as he absently touched his mustache. He’d forgotten that Merriman qualified on the first and last counts.

Pushing aside the thick branches of a holly tree, he surveyed the two acres of green lawn that fronted the majestic old Georgian mansion. Satisfied that no human being marred the pastoral scene, Jed continued on his mission. Breaking into a half trot, he followed the line of holly trees which served as a windbreak on three sides of the estate. The Delaware River bordered the fourth. He chuckled. Trespassing beat the hell out of having to trim all four hundred and twenty-three holly trees on a steamy summer afternoon. As a teenager, he’d done that more times than he cared to remember, working at the estate for his father’s landscaping business.

His amusement was replaced by a grimace. Trimming an endless row of holly trees beat the hell out of what he was about to do next, though.

“Barkeley never did make things easy,” Jed muttered out loud. He sighed in relief, as he glimpsed the first of the boxwood shrubs that bordered the old-fashioned garden maze. Situated on the left side of the property, the maze encompassed a full acre. It was Merriman’s pride and joy. It was also the easiest way to get to the house without being seen.

He kept to the cover of the trees until he was
opposite the maze entrance. Grateful that the holly leaves were still soft, he pushed his way in between the trees. There was only about a hundred feet of open space between him and the maze. He knew the other entrance was just a few yards from the side terrace. If he’d timed it exactly right, Merriman would be having afternoon tea on the terrace, a ritual the old man performed rain or shine, from the first of March to the end of November, claiming it was good for the lungs. The raw October day would hardly deter him.

Jed hoped he remembered the way through the maze. He’d been seventeen the last time he’d gone through it. Eighteen years was a long time between mazes.

Taking a deep breath, he ran across the lawn and into the maze. As high boxwoods enclosed him in a shaded corridor, he grinned to himself. Piece of ca—

His self-congratulations went no further, as his ears caught the unmistakable sounds of someone rushing across the grass. He glanced over his shoulder and saw two enormous dogs racing toward him, their jaws open and tongues lolling. Instantly deciding there was only one sensible recourse, he turned and ran for all he was worth deeper into the maze. So much for a smooth entry, he thought. His brain scrambled to dredge up the maze’s “key.” Two right, one left, double back and turn right …

Skidding to an abrupt halt, he gazed in shock at the barrier of solid hedge where there was supposed to be an open corridor. Cursing himself for his mistake, he whipped around just in time to
see the two Great Danes enter the outer end of the corridor. They began barking furiously as they closed in on their quarry. He slowly backed away from them. Muscles tensed for fight or flight, he wished he knew what the standing-high-jump record was. He had a feeling he was about to break it.

The huge animals stalked purposively toward him, their growls coming from deep in their massive chests, their fangs glistening. Jed pressed back into the wall of boxwood. In spite of the fifty-degree temperature, sweat trickled down his temples. Ignoring the well-trimmed branches stabbing at his flesh, he tried to press straight through to the other side.

“Hello,” said a pleasantly low, feminine voice from the other end of the corridor. “Were you looking for someone?”

“Just admiring the view,” Jed snapped, never glancing away from the dogs to see who he was talking to.

“It is a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” agreed the woman. “Well, I’ll leave you to it—”

“I’m quite willing to admit I’m trespassing,” Jed interrupted coolly. “Call the mutts off, and I’ll go quietly. Believe me, I’ll be more than happy to go quietly.”

There was a long silence. Jed wished he’d seen the Grand Canyon just once … watched the sun set on the Pyramids before the sun set on him …

“Samson! Delilah! Watch!”

At the sharp command, the dogs instantly became silent. They sat down on their haunches and looked around in bewilderment, like a couple
of drunk dachshunds. Still eyeing them, Jed cautiously allowed his body to relax. He risked a glance in his rescuer’s direction, as she came to stand behind the dogs.

Gazing into questioning green-gray eyes, he completely forgot about the vicious animals sitting practically at his feet. He knew those eyes, and the deep midnight-black hair. Nobody could ever forget the exotic combination. The waif-like little girl he remembered was now a woman … a beautiful woman with the delicate features of a cameo portrait, except for the smear of mud she had across a creamy cheek, and her hair falling out of its fastening. The burgundy Shaker sweater and faded jeans covering the slender but very feminine curves were also mud-splattered. So were the unappealing Wellington boots. Somehow, though, her attire didn’t seem at all out of place with her beautiful face and form. Jed wasn’t surprised by the thought. Rachel Barkeley always had liked to play in the mud.

Thanking his Maker for little girls, he crossed his arms over his chest and smiled.

“You’ve grown up, Rae.”

In dismay, Rachel Honoria Barkeley stared at the man posed nonchalantly at the maze wall. There’d been a time when she considered Jed Waters a big brother, but she knew he was here now for a very unbrotherly reason. It had been a shock to discover that her childhood friend had almost conned a sweet and slightly crazy old man into allowing the Barkeley Estate to be turned
into a marina-condominium complex. Almost, she thought with satisfaction. Uncle Merry had finally had the common sense to pull out of the sale and return the down payment.

Rae studied the self-assured stranger who was so different from the shy adolescent she remembered so well. Jed’s physical appearance only enhanced the man he had become. His carrot-colored hair had faded to a deep auburn, and his features were more rugged and sharply defined. The thick reddish-brown mustache made him look even more virile. His hazel eyes were as striking as ever, but there was an experienced quality to his gaze now. He had to be over six feet tall—certainly a good head taller than her five feet eight inches. His lithe, muscular frame was accentuated by the jeans and baseball jacket he wore.

For a brief moment, Rae wondered how the dogs would have fared if she’d left them to their job. Being intimidated by a couple of Great Danes was not a trait of a fast-rising corporate vice president. Even at their friendliest, Samson and Delilah sent most people into a panic, but Jed had simply stood his ground and glared at them.

Realizing she was far too interested in him as a man, she turned her attention to the purpose of his visit. Why she had expected Atlantic Developers to just drop their plans for the complex after they lost the sale, she didn’t know. Wishful thinking probably. She reminded herself that she hadn’t reached the age of twenty-seven without learning how to stand her ground too. Jed was in for a surprise if he thought the new owner of the estate was as pliable as her Uncle Merry. Images of bulldozers
ripping up the beautiful two-hundred-year-old house and grounds ran through her head, and she suppressed a shudder. The estate’s first owner had been her ancestor, Samuel Barkeley. The estate had passed out of the family during the 1800’s, but it had finally been brought back into Barkeley hands by Uncle Merry. And there it would stay, she promised herself.

She decided the best way to deal with a representative of Atlantic was to act as cool and nonchalant as he did. Being covered in mud was a distinct disadvantage, but she forced herself to ignore her appearance. It was just bad luck that he had arrived when she’d been attempting to locate a broken water line. Anyway, Jed certainly wasn’t dressed in a regulation three-piece Brooks Brothers suit.