Her Three Entrepreneurs [The Hot Millionaires #8] (18 page)

“Not many people did.” Dex shrugged. “They’re always ready to think the worst.”

“I believed you.”

“Yeah,” he said, flashing a soft smile. “You did. Thank you for that.”

The water had turned cold. Dex stood up, helped her from the tub, wrapped her in a large towel, and gently dried her off.

“Come on, sweetheart. You need to get some sleep.”

He took her back to her own room, not wanting her to sleep on the soiled sheets they’d played on earlier. He pulled back the covers and she hopped obediently between them. Her naked body turned him on, but he turned away so she wouldn’t notice.

“Night, sweetheart,” he said, bending to kiss her.

“Bay said you weren’t to let me out of your sight,” she reminded him with a sweetly innocent smile.

Dex growled. “I’m trying to be noble here.”

“There’s plenty of room for two.”

Dex climbed into the other side of the bed and pulled her into his arms. “Just so that you know, I am not going to fuck you,” he said, trying to make it sound as though the idea appalled him. “You need to get some rest.”

He wasn’t sure if she even heard him. She curled up on her side, rested her head on his shoulder, and appeared to fall asleep immediately.

* * * *

Athena was woken the next morning by Dex’s bristly chin rubbing against her face, and the feel of his erection pressing against her thigh.

“Hmm,” she said, opening her eyes and smiling at him, “that’s a nice wake-up call.”

“And it’ll have to keep, I’m afraid, because it’s getting late.”

She glanced at the clock. “Oh hell, so it is. You should have woken me earlier.”

“You looked so peaceful that I couldn’t bring myself to.” He threw back the covers. “Tell you what, I’ll make breakfast while you see to your workers. That okay with you?”

She thanked him with a kiss and leapt out of bed. An hour later, she’d talked through a few problems with George and Max and saw for herself where they were with the outstanding tasks. She’d managed to keep them away from the house, so they didn’t get to see a second strange man with her on consecutive mornings. She didn’t need George getting all possessive on her again.

When she returned to the kitchen, Dex provided her with a soft, fluffy omelette and crisp fried bacon, fresh juice, and coffee.

“Thank you, Dex.” She leaned across the table and fused her lips with his. “I think I might keep you here for a whole month.”

“Only a month?”

As soon as she finished eating, Athena phoned the hospital. She was cheered to learn that her grandfather had had a good night and had been moved to a normal ward.

“That’s good,” Dex said when she told him, pulling out his cell phone and relaying the news to the others.

“They said he’s very grumpy,” she said, smiling. “That’s got to be a good sign.”

“Come on,” Dex said. “I know you’re anxious to see him for yourself. If you’re ready we’ll go to the hospital. The others will meet us in the same place as yesterday.”

* * * *

“You look a lot better today, Gramps,” Athena said in that artificially cheerful voice that people tend to use in hospitals.

Actually he looked awful, she thought despondently—pale, tired, and every one of his seventy-five years. The bandage round his head didn’t help matters and terrified her every time she looked at it. If he’d been hit just a fraction harder, if Athena had been delayed and not gotten back to the farm when she did, then they probably wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“I’m right as ninepence,” he said, his voice sounding as weak as he looked. “I’m hoping they’ll discharge me today. If not, I’ll discharge myself.”

“And I’ll bring you straight back again,” she said severely. “You’re not well enough to leave yet, Gramps.”

“You can’t manage the farm on your own, darling.”

“I’m not on my own. I’ve got Max and George.”

“And those hunky Americans looking after you,” he added, a trace of the habitual sparkle returning to his eye. “No wonder you don’t want me queering your patch.”

She felt herself blushing. “Gramps, how could you say such a thing?”

He chuckled, which turned into a cough. “Thought so,” he said smugly. “About time you had a bit of fun. Perhaps I will stay here until they chuck me out after all.”

Before Athena could respond, she sensed someone else hovering close to the bed. She didn’t know whether to be more surprised or angry when she saw Jerry Jennings there, clutching a bag with fruit in it. Gramps had only been moved that morning. He certainly didn’t waste any time.

“Peter,” Jennings said heartily. “How the devil are you feeling? You gave us all quite a scare for a moment there.”

Athena stood up. “I’ll leave you to it and stop by later, Gramps.” She would be physically ill if she stayed in the same room with Jennings.

“How are you coping, Athena?” he asked.

She pretended not to hear him, feeling like a badly behaved schoolgirl when she left the ward, gave way to an impulse, and ran down the corridor. Dex was leaning casually against a wall, waiting for her. He appeared to have attracted the attention of several nurses, who hovered round him like flies to a honey. She wanted to shoo them away and tell them to find their own hunk. Except Dex wasn’t hers, she reminded herself with a heavy heart, any more than Bay and Marty were.

“Hey,” he said, straightening up when he saw her coming. “That was quick. Everything okay?”

The nurses shot her envious looks and dispersed.

“I seem to have upset your fan club.”

“Oh them, they were just passing the time of day.”

“I’m sure they were.” Athena rolled her eyes. “Jennings is in there with Gramps.”

“He didn’t waste much time.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Come on then, let’s go to the café and wait for the others. I don’t want Jennings to see us together.”

“Shouldn’t we wait and see what Jennings does when he leaves?”

“It’s okay, our guy will be watching.”

“Well,” she said reluctantly, “if you’re sure.”

They’d only been in the café for a few minutes when Dex’s cell rang.

“Okay, Bay,” he said. “We’ll be right there.”

“Come on,” he said, throwing some coins on the table to cover the cost of their coffee. “Jennings went straight from seeing your grandfather to that same pub.”

Dex drove quickly to the pub, which was only a short distance away. It was almost empty at this early hour, with just a few cars in the parking lot, including Bay’s Jaguar. He and Marty emerged from it when Dex pulled up.

“He went inside a few minutes ago,” Bay said, kissing Athena, “and Foster and another guy went in almost straight after.”

“Do you know who he is?” Marty asked, showing Athena a picture on his cell phone.

Athena looked at it and gasped. “Now it makes a weird sort of sense,” she said with a slow, angry shake of her head.

“Who is he, babe?” Bay asked.

“He lives in the village. He’s Paul Foreman, one of Max’s sons.”

“Why would he get involved?” Athena asked with a perplexed frown.

“Money,” Bay said succinctly, taking her arm because she looked too shell-shocked to stand up under her own steam.

“I don’t see how or why Jennings and Foster would need him,” she said. “With Jennings in control of our finances and Foster to handle the planning, what need do they have for Max’s son?”

“Let’s go and ask him,” Bay said, steering her toward the pub’s door.

“I look forward to it,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Stay back for now, sweetheart, and let me handle this.”

The three men were sitting together in a concealed alcove, talking very quietly. Bay walked right up to them.

“Morning, gents,” he said.

They all looked up. “Do we know you?” Jennings asked.

“Nope, but we know you.” Bay sat at their table without being invited.

“You’ll have to excuse us,” Foster said, looking worried. “This is a business meeting.”

“Then why wasn’t I invited?”

“Athena!”

All three men half stood up, almost knocking the table over. Jennings looked shocked, Foster perplexed, Paul Foreman downright scared.

“What do you think you’re playing at, Paul?” she asked aggressively.

“I… That is, it’s none of your business.”

“Like hell it isn’t. If you think you can intimidate and scare my grandfather off his own land, you have another thing coming.”

Athena’s raised voice caused the few other patrons in the bar to look up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“Save it,” Bay said curtly. “We know that Jennings here is calling in Athena’s grandfather’s loans so that he can repossess the property and that this
gentleman,
” he added scathingly, pointing at Foster, “will grant planning permission when redevelopment projects are proposed. What we don’t understand is where you come into it all,” he finished, waving at Paul.

“I think I do,” Athena said. “I remember now. Paul’s an architect. He recently got the push from a big firm in Southampton—”

“I wasn’t fired. I resigned.”

“Whatever.” Athena waved his interruption aside. “He now works freelance from home, which is why he’s cooked up this little scheme to feather his own nest.”

The three crooks exchanged glances. “Your grandfather has taken advantage of my father all these years,” Paul said, sneering. “It’s about time he felt a taste of his own medicine.”

“Taken advantage of him how, precisely?” she asked, placing her hands belligerently on her hips. “By employing him all these years, by paying him for almost a year when he couldn’t work because he was stricken with asthma, by being godparent to you, by supplying your mother’s kitchen with organic produce free of charge?” She enunciated each word with icy disdain. “Did I miss anything out?”

“He pays him a pittance.”

“He’s a farm worker and Gramps pays the going rate. Not that he can afford it, but he pays it anyway precisely because he
doesn’t
want to take advantage.”

“And so you bashed an old man over the head, hard enough to fracture his skull, just to get your hands on his property.” Bay glowered at the three of them. “That must make you very proud.”

“We had nothing to do with that,” Jennings said, looking scared. Bay had a feeling he was telling the truth. “You have to believe me. We had no need to do that. We had Peter Lloyd right where we needed him.”

Unfortunately, that was probably true.

“Look,” Foster said, extricating himself from behind the table and edging toward the door. “This is nothing to do with me.”

“Really?” Bay blocked his path. “Then how come you were meeting with these two, discussing illegal applications?”

“It was just an outline proposal, nothing definite. It was all a mistake really.”

“So was the day you were born,” Dex said, holding the man in a deathwatch glare.

“You’ve exploited your position,” Bay told him. “Resign and keep your pension or your bosses will hear all about this.”

“You can’t prove anything.”

“Wanna bet?” Marty asked.

“You’re the Yanks who want to buy the farm,” Paul said, pointing a finger at Bay. “That’s all you care about. Well, Lloyd won’t sell, not to you.”

“He won’t sell to you, either,” Athena said. “My grandfather’s good friend here,” she added scathingly, pointing to Jennings, “is going to restore our line of credit—if he wants to hold on to his job, that is—and there will be no need to sell.”

“Why would I do that?” Jennings asked.

“Because if you don’t,” Bay said, “your wife will hear all about Celia Philpott—”

“The solicitor’s wife?” Athena gaped first at Bay, then Jennings, who looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and stay there.

“Jennings is screwing her,” Bay said. “I’m guessing that Paul here got to hear of it and blackmailed Jennings into joining his fraudulent scheme.”

“I didn’t, I—”

“Shut up!” Marty said, cutting off Paul’s pathetic attempts to explain.

“His mistress is expensive. Jennings has three kids at fee-paying schools and a wife with three credit cards to support,” Bay continued. “It must have seemed like manner from heaven when Paul suggested this fraud to you.”

“Look, I’m sorry, Athena,” Jennings said. “Your grandfather’s old. The farm’s too much for him. He would have benefited financially once his debts were cleared.”

Athena curled her upper lip and turned away from him.

“Don’t ever try anything like this again,” Bay said to Paul, standing close enough to crowd him. “If you run home and keep your nose clean, your father won’t hear about what you tried to do. Not for your sake but for his.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Trust me, buddy, you don’t want to know.”