Lead Me On (11 page)

"Do I detect a touch of animosity?" He raised that blasted, sexy brow again.

"Try outrage," she answered. "And if we didn't have cause to hate them before, we sure do now."

He rocked back in the saddle. "What do you mean?"

"John LeRoche, the current patriarch on that branch of the family tree, is suing us."

"What?" Scott demanded. "On what grounds?"

"He claims we made some underhanded deal with Chance's bank to get them to foreclose on Pearl Island."

"What do you mean, 'Chance's bank'?"

"Oliver Chancellor's family founded the First Bank of Galveston, which is now the Liberty Union National Bank. Even though his father had already sold the bank, Chance was still working there when the foreclosure took place. John LeRoche is claiming Chance talked the bank into foreclosing because he knew we wanted to buy Pearl Island. And that Chance used prior knowledge to help us get the property."

"Did he?"

"No! Of course not." Allison batted hair out of her eyes as the wind swirled. "Chance is one of the most honest, upright people I can imagine. Besides, he and Rory weren't even involved until after the foreclosure. That's how they got to know each other, by us trying to get a loan from his bank to buy the place."

"Then you have nothing to worry about"

"Legally, maybe not. It's a bogus lawsuit and John LeRoche has no chance of winning. But if he drags this out, it could get costly, and Chance thinks that's his real goal. John LeRoche wants to drive us out of business so we'll have to sell the house." The thought of losing Pearl Island after all the work they'd put into it tore at her heart. And it wasn't just the work, it was the connection she'd always felt to the house, even before they owned it. "What makes me mad is he doesn't care about Pearl Island. None of the LeRoches do. They only want to own it because of the good luck Marguerite has brought them in the past. The Pearl was like a Midas touch for them, which is how they got to be so obscenely wealthy in the first place. Now that they've lost possession of the charm, John LeRoche is having all kinds of financial problems. He's desperate enough to do anything to get the house back."

She shook her head as fear chilled her. "I don't know what we'll do if we lose it. Not just the house, but the business. It means more to us than I can tell you, to have something that's ours. Something that can't be taken away from us. At least I thought it couldn't be taken away." She looked back at the beach house. "God, I hate the whole LeRoche family sometimes! They did nothing to deserve Pearl Island. They left the house abandoned for years. And now that we've put in all the work, invested every dime to our names, they want to steal it back."

"So what are you going to do?" he asked quietly.

"Fight," she answered without hesitation. "No matter what it takes. Pearl Island is rightfully ours, and we're not giving it up."

Scott looked out over the gulf, his expression thoughtful. "Actually, you're right, we should be getting back. That storm is rolling in faster than I thought."

Scott was strangely quiet on the drive back to the inn. Deciding to leave him in peace, Allison turned her attention to the drama of the storm.

The clouds that had been bumping around on the horizon a mere hour before now covered the island like black mountains blocking out the sun. The first fat raindrops quickly grew into a downpour, pounding on the roof of the car. Scott turned on the windshield wipers and headlights as traffic slowed.

Then they turned onto the private bridge to Pearl Island, and Allison's stomach tightened at the thought of facing Rory and Adrian with all of them knowing she'd slept with Scott last night.

"Pull around back," she told him as they approached the house. A variety of vehicles crowded the parking lot near the front, letting her know most of the current guests were inside. But then, few people would be at the beach or antiquing in town in weather like this. "If you don't mind using the back entrance, we won't get as wet."

He turned into the small, oyster-shell lot behind the house and parked between Chance's BMW and the old Jeep she and Rory shared. Adrian's motorcycle had been pulled up onto the back porch. The pounding of the rain seemed louder when Scott killed the engine.

"Well," she said, "I guess this is it. Back to reality."

"Yeah. Guess so." Lightning flashed, followed by a blast of thunder that shook the ground.

They looked at each other, and she wished he would kiss her one last time. Instead, he looked toward the house where lights shone from every window. "I need to use the

phone in the office for a private call, if that's all right."

"Certainly." She frowned at his stiff manner after the openness they'd shared for the past twenty-four hours. But that was part of the deal, she supposed. One night only. She turned back toward the house. "Shall we make a dash for it and leave our bags for later?"

"Definitely." He peered out at the rain. "You ready?"

She nodded and they moved together, jumping from the dry safety of the car into the deluge. They raced for the back porch, splashing through puddles before they ducked beneath the protection of the overhang. Sheets of rain fell about them in a gray curtain, closing them in that small space as they shook water from their hair. Allison plucked at her wet T-shirt, thankful it wasn't wet enough to have gone completely transparent. With Scott crowding in behind her, she maneuvered around the motorcycle and reached for the door.

"Wait," he said.

She turned toward him as best she could. Though his body blocked the wind, the intensity of his gaze made her shiver.

He cupped her face in his hands, holding her there as he lowered his mouth to cover her cool lips with a hot kiss. She swayed into him, absorbing every sensation as he wrapped his arms about her. Her fingers slid into his wet hair as the taste and scent of rain filled her. A part of her wished the exhilarating freedom of the past two days could go on forever. It had been a time out of time, where she could be as bold as she dared.

Wanting to cling to that an instant longer, she pressed into him. He groaned as he kissed the raindrops from her cheeks, her neck, then returned to her mouth, taking her back to that place of greedy giving. Her body trembled as he lifted his head. She looked up into his eyes, and saw the same blaze of desire that burned inside her.

He banked it slowly, pulling back inside himself before he stepped away physically. "Okay." He nodded, his voice raspy but firm. "Now I'm ready."

The words were an ending. She nodded, knowing it was best but feeling an odd sadness as she led the way inside. The air-conditioned back hall raised goose bumps on her arms. A murmur of voices came from the kitchen, letting her know the whole family was gathered there. She let out a sigh as she and Scott took off their muddy boots.

Sadie let out a bark and came charging toward the sound of their voices. "Hey there, sweetie." Allison bent forward and ruffled the dog's long fur. "Did you miss me?"

"Who's this?" Scott asked, smiling at the dog.

"Sadie." Allison looked up at him. "We keep her in the kitchen or downstairs most of the time, since not all guests care for dogs."

He gave the Sheltie a scratch beneath the chin, winning her over instantly. "She's a pretty thing."

Sadie cocked her head and barked.

"And she knows it." Allison laughed, then straightened. Bolstering her courage, she stepped into the open doorway to the kitchen.

Silence descended. Adrian, Rory, and Chance sat around the worktable, their expressions grave.

Allison's stomach tensed. "Is something wrong?"

Adrian glanced meaningfully at Scott before answering. "Family matter. We've been waiting for you to join us."

"Oh." Her gaze flew from one frowning face to the next, wondering what had happened. Or were they simply planning to berate her again about last night, this time en masse? "I'll be right with you."

Rather than walk through the kitchen and butler's pantry, she motioned for Scott to follow her to the small servant's door that led straight from the back hall into the central hall. "The phone's this way. No, Sadie, you stay."

Sadie barked in protest and Allison quickly closed the door on the sound. Turning, she was glad to find the central hall free of guests, since she looked a bit worse for wear in her stocking feet and wet T-shirt. A couple sat in the music room, across the hall from the dining room, watching the TV they'd tucked into an armoire, but they were absorbed in their show.

"So how much grief are they going to give you?" he asked as they headed for the office.

"I don't know. It could be something else."

He nodded and let the subject drop.

"The phone's here on the desk," she said as she turned on a floor lamp. "We have a block on the line to prevent anyone but us from making long distance calls, so you'll need a calling card."

"No problem." He reached for his wallet. "I just need a few minutes of privacy."

"Take your time. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything." She stopped long enough to pull the sliding pocket doors together, closing the room off.

Scott let out a breath when she was gone, but his temper began to simmer again as he dialed the number for his sister's house in New Orleans. Everything Allison had told him on the beach kept playing through his mind. He had expected some ill will between Nicole's descendants and the LeRoche family, but the extent of her animosity stunned him, as did the reason behind it.

His sister answered on the first ring, sounding frantic. "Chloe?"

"No, it's Scott." He frowned at Diane's tone.

"Scott? Oh, thank God! I've been trying to get in touch with you all day. Why don't you ever listen to your damn answering machine?"

"Diane"—he sighed—"do you think we could skip the latest episode in your soap opera life just this once so I can ask you a favor? I don't have my address book on me and I need the number for John's lawyer. Can you look it up for me?"

"Not now. Scott, I need your help. Something serious has happened with Chloe."

He went on mild alert, since "serious" was a relative term with his sister. "What this time? Did she dye her hair green? Pierce her navel?"

"She's missing."

"What?" The mild alert jumped up to code red. "What do you mean missing?"

"She's run away!" his sister wailed. "I found a note ... on the kitchen table when I got home. Oh Scott, how could she do this? Where could she be? Doesn't she realize how worried this would make me?"

"Okay, slow down, back up." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What time did you find the note?"

"When I got home."

"What time!"

"I don't know. About ten this morning."

Jesus!
His sister had left her twelve-year-old daughter alone all night while she was out, clubbing most likely. Even for Diane, that hit new lows of irresponsibility.

"Scott, please tell me she's with you."

"Why would she be with me?"

"Because her note said she was going to live with

you, that you were the only person who cared whether she lived or died. How could she say that? Doesn't she know how much I love her? How can she hurt me like this?"

Scott refrained from commenting as his sister fell to pieces. All the lectures in the world would do no good unless Diane miraculously decided to grow up. "Don't panic," he said when she wound down. "I'll find her."

"Thank you," she sniffed, not bothering to ask how. "You always know what to do."

He gritted his teeth in frustration. "Just do me one favor while I'm finding Chloe."

"What?"

"Look up the number for John's attorney."

"Do I have to do that now?" she whined.

"Well, not this minute, but sometime in the next twenty-four hours, yes, I would appreciate it."

"Why? So you can tell them to cut off my allowance?"

"Diane ..." He struggled to control his temper. "This isn't about you, okay? I just need to talk to John's attorney."

"Why?"

"Because John LeRoche, our asshole of a father, is wreaking havoc on the lives of some very decent people, and I want to stop him."

"What do you care? You disowned all of us years

ago.

I care because he's hurting Allison.
"Just get me the number, will ya?"

"Oh, all right! But promise you'll find Chloe."

"I'll find her." His mind raced as he hung up. If his niece had gone to his townhouse, she'd found it empty. She had a key, but Chloe alone in the French Quarter was not something he wanted to think about.

The kid was smart, though, and resourceful. Plus he'd

given her a surefire way to contact him in case of emergencies. She had his agent's phone number, and Hugh had instructions to help the kid if she ever needed to find him.

Dialing his agent's office, he glanced at his watch and saw it was just after four o'clock. Five New York time.
Please be there.

"Hugh Ashton."

Thank God.
"Hugh, it's Scott."

"Scott? Now why does that name sound familiar? I remember! I used to know someone named Scott many moons ago, but I think he fell off the ends of the earth."

"Will you can it and listen? My niece, Chloe, is missing. Has she called there?"

"Actually, yes, she has."

"When! What did she say?"

"She called this morning while I was in a meeting. Refused to leave a number for me to call her back. She finally got through to me about an hour ago."

"What'd she say? Did she sound all right?"

"She sounded fine. And surprisingly mature. I thought you said she was just a kid."

"She is a kid. She's only twelve."

"Well, she sounded older."

"What did she say?'

"Only that she needed to talk to you. So I gave her the name and number of the inn where you're staying. That's okay, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's perfect" Relief washed through him. "I need to go so I can find out if she's called here. Do me a favor, though. If she calls you back, find out where she is. Then call me immediately."