SeductiveIntent (6 page)

She was biting her lip and looking at him doubtfully in a
way that suggested she might be working up to a refusal.

“No strings attached,” he offered, surprising himself. “I
promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman. If that’s what you want,” he hastily
added. “There are plenty of bedrooms.”

“Okay, in that case, I accept.”

“Great. So what’s your last name?”

Her face became guarded again. He knew she didn’t like
questions, but come on. Investigations aside, it was a perfectly ordinary
question to a woman who’d just agreed to fly down to the Caymans with him.

So why wasn’t she answering?

Sophia could give him any one of a dozen last names,
passports for all of them. But she hesitated, probably too long not to be
noticed.

“What? Will I recognize it?”

“Let’s just keep this on a first-names basis only.”

Why the hell she should do that, she had no idea. It was
only bound to make him suspicious.

“How can I buy you an airline ticket if I don’t know your
last name?”

“I’m disappointed,” she chided, as playfully as she could.
“I thought you’d have your own jet.”

“No, our CEO doesn’t approve of them, although she rides
around pretty handily in Aaron’s as I’ve pointed out to her many times.”

“I’ll buy my own ticket. I’ll meet you there.”

He looked at her, a slight smile on his face. “Why don’t you
want me to know who you are?”

Geez. They both knew what he really wanted, and it wasn’t
any last name. His insistence was bugging her, probably because she knew she
should’ve just provided a phony one right off the bat. Was she going to have to
take off her top again just to get this guy off the subject? Instead, she said,
“It’s not that. Let’s spend a few days together. See how it works out. Then we
can share life stories if you want.”

After a moment, he nodded. Hoping she had placated him, she
added, “And I’ll be sure to bring my bikini. Now where is this house of yours?”

* * * * *

Arthur scanned the bottles, clarets only in the row he was
perusing for the particular vintage requested by one of the Beckett twins. A
flighty little girl, she initially had startled him with the request due to
nothing other than her imperiousness in delivering it. This household, despite
its obvious luxury and the inevitable tension that accompanied festivities such
as a wedding, had turned out to be quite casual. The staff brought in for the
wedding, himself included for his own purposes, were gently dealt with by a
part-time housekeeper who seemed to consider herself one of the family and
oddly had no airs on account of it. The Beckett siblings themselves, who had
all arrived last night, all but the brother as he well knew, were extremely cordial
as well. Arthur had done enough cons playing a servant to realize that this
kind of hospitality from employers was rare.

So when this twin, one of the Ms as he thought of them,
demanded an extremely fine vintage of claret be brought up to her, he was
surprised by the haughty tone, even as he masked his reaction of course. But
then she laughed and added, “That was just for your benefit. I’m underage and
if my brother catches me, I want you to be blameless. You can tell him I
ordered you to do it and what could you do?”

Arthur smiled neutrally and agreed to get the bottle,
although clearly this M was not unaccustomed to sneaking into the wine cellar
herself. She practically pointed him to the row he would find the bottle in,
not that he cared. Underage drinking was the least of his problems right now.

The door to the wine cellar that he had left open to let the
light in slammed shut.

“Have you found it?”

Sadly, he recognized the voice even in the total blackness
and it was not the sexy little twin looking for her bottle of wine. Unerringly
feeling along the wall for the light switch, he flicked it on. He was very good
at getting on in the dark, but this particular person was more dangerous than
most and he was not inclined to carry out a conversation, or whatever she had
in mind, in the dark.

“Hello, Vinita.” She was dressed to the nines for the
occasion.

“Don’t call me that.”

It certainly wasn’t the name she went by now, a rather
prominent name in fact belying her humble roots, which was the point of the
current exercise he and Sophia were engaged in. But she would always be that
gutter rat bitch Vinita to him.

“I didn’t realize you were on the guest list, but I suppose
I shouldn’t be surprised. All the young and beautiful. And rich.”

“Cut the small talk. I take it since you’re serving drinks
here you think it might be here. Why the hell didn’t you just break in and
search the place?”

“Break in? With the timetable you gave me and people here
all week sprucing the place up for the wedding? Believe me, it’s easier to hide
in plain sight than sneak in and hope to not be discovered by any one of the
number of people who were staying here.”

“Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? You’ve spent
your whole life hiding.”

“I thought you didn’t want any small talk. Speaking of
which, however, what’s the big rush suddenly? A few weeks ago, we had all the
time in the world. Now, you’re pressing for it, like, yesterday. Why?”

“None of your fucking business.” Vinita’s impeccably made-up
face hardened as she spat out the vulgarity, and suddenly she didn’t look so
young, as he knew she wasn’t.

“Well, we didn’t find it in Beckett’s apartment and I
haven’t seen anything obvious around here.”

“What about your girl?”

“Don’t worry. She’s on it.” He turned back to the row of
claret, selecting the requested bottle.

“That’s not what I want to hear, Arthur. I want to hear
she’s got it.”

“She will. If Beckett has it, she’ll find out. She’s never
failed me before.”

“Make sure that she doesn’t.”

She didn’t even have to say the “or else” out loud. Arthur
heard it, loud and clear, anyway.

By the time Vinita had slithered away and he brought the
bottle upstairs, the M twin was nowhere to be found. Good excuse to go looking
around, then. He didn’t have to do anything as crass as feel around walls or
search behind pieces of furniture. He was good enough to just cast a practiced
eye around as, bottle in hand, the perfect prop, he went looking. For the M
twin of course and for what he was really looking for in the process.

He was in a little room he believed the Beckett family
referred to as the green room, although predictably there was no green to be
found, when he heard a voice behind him without actually hearing anyone enter.

“Hi there.”

“My, you’re getting good,” he noted softly, turning around.

“Or you’re getting careless.”

“Maybe both, but at least they’re happening at the same time
and your ascent can help cancel out my decline.”

“That’ll be the day.”

Sophia had her shoes in one hand, presumably aiding in her
effort at stealth, but it looked natural enough to just register as a beautiful
girl tired of her high heels and tipsy enough to take matters into her own
hands. He took care to close the door behind her anyway.

“Did you find anything?”

“No. I still don’t understand why we can’t just come back at
night and do a proper search, though.”

“I told you. We don’t have time to wait for the house to
empty out after all this. Family will be around for a few days as things go
back to normal. We’re on a tight time frame.”

“Not that you told me why, of course,” she commented
sulkily.

“No, but we’re going to have to go back to our original
plan.”

“Before you got whatever mysterious instructions you got.”

“Yes.” Sophia didn’t know about Vinita. God willing, she
never would.

“I thought you said we didn’t have enough time for the
original plan. Jesus, you’re on a seesaw these days, Arthur.”

“Since it wasn’t in Beckett’s apartment and doesn’t seem to
be here, we can’t just go searching every piece of real estate the Becketts
own. That could take us months. Hence we’re back to square one and the original
plan. You cozy up to him and see what you can get out of him—on an expedited
basis of course. No time for subtlety.”

“Well, whatever. Fine. He’s interested.”

“Big surprise,” Arthur muttered.

“And he’s not exactly into subtle, as you well know.”

“Good. But we need more than interested at this point. I
want him all over you and telling you what we need to know.”

She slipped her shoes back on, a purchase that had cost them
a small fortune. But appearances were a reality, as they both knew. If Sophia
was going to fit into this crowd, she had to look as if she could, which meant
no scrimping on the outfit. Too bad the fact that it was an outdoor wedding
meant they couldn’t return the shoes later. Oh well, at least maybe they could
return the dress.

“He’s asked me to their house in the Caymans.”

“Bingo. The perfect venue for cozying up.” Although that
meant a Caribbean wardrobe, which didn’t come cheap either. “So what are you
doing here? Get out going and start packing what you can. I’ll pick up some
additional things on my way home.” By now, of course, he knew Sophia’s size
perfectly.

“Home.” The roll of her eyes said it all, but he didn’t
invite a comment anyway.

Apropos of absolutely nothing, she asked, “So, are we
related or what?”

She’d never asked it outright like that.

“Why would you bring that up now?”

“No reason particularly. Maybe it’s all this happy family
Beckett stuff going on around us. Maybe I just want to know if I have any
family and I’ve had enough champagne to ask.”

“Not too much champagne, I hope.”

“Don’t worry. Are we? Related?”

“Wouldn’t I have mentioned that if we were?”

“We both know the answer to that.”

He smiled at her fondly. Or as fond as he got in any case.

She went on. “And you’ve never expressed any sexual interest
in me whatsoever. I always assumed that was because we were related somehow.”

“I could be gay.”

“I should know whether that’s true or not since we’ve lived
together more or less my entire life.” She looked him straight in the eyes, his
own outfitted with brown-colored contacts for the occasion, though they’d stuck
with her own true eye color. That blue-green color was so gorgeous, he couldn’t
resist the impulse. Getting sentimental, probably.

“It’s telling that I don’t, though, Arthur.”

“Wah, wah, wah,” he said softly. “Save the sob story for
him. Not the true one of course.”

“Don’t worry,” she assured him again, though she didn’t have
to. Sophia was every inch the pro he’d taught her to be. Whichever way that
cut.

“So are you? Gay, I mean.”

“When I have to be.”

“Which is probably literally true.”

“Go on. Get out of here. You have a plane to catch, I’m
assuming.”

“On our own dime, you’ll be sorry to hear.”

“Well, clearly, I haven’t taught you well enough.”

“You have, but maybe there are some things I’m not willing
to learn.”

“Save it for him.”

“Don’t worry,” she said softly, taking her leave. “I will.”

When she opened the door, an M twin was there, startling
them both.

“Oh, there you are,” the girl said. “Is that my bottle of wine?”

Good thing the doors in this old place were so sturdy. Solid
oak. Hard to hear through. Though of course it might be hard to explain why the
door was closed.

“Excuse me,” Sophia said, moving past the twin.

“Yes, miss.” He handed the bottle over.

Lucky for him, she didn’t even ask as Sophia disappeared.

* * * * *

Brendan gazed out at the ocean. The view from this
second-story balcony of the beach house was probably his favorite in the whole
world. The house had been his parents and now all six Beckett offspring owned
it equally, just as they did Bransport. But unlike the Connecticut estate, the
Cayman Islands house was too far away to get much use. In fact, he was the only
one who ever bothered to even go there on a regular basis. Virginia was always
too busy with work and their two older sisters with their families. Mindy and
Missy thought it was boring. “I mean, what is there to do but sit on the beach
and swim? That’s no fun. Nobody’s there.”

But Brendan loved it. The peace. The serenity. The breathtaking
natural beauty of the sea and sun. He’d never even brought a woman here before,
feeling as if that would somehow spoil it.

So what was the hot goddess sprawled out on the sand below
him right now doing here?

Sophia spied him and waved, pulling the top of her bikini up
a little as she did so. Though the sun was blinding, she’d turned down the
beach umbrella he’d offered her after she had settled into her separate room,
as promised. He hoped for the sake of her soft skin that she had sunscreen on.
Suddenly, the image of rubbing the lotion along her body took hold.

He waved back. “I’ll be right down,” he called. “Just let me
change into my trunks.”

By the time he made it down, bottle of sunscreen in hand,
Sophia had donned a big floppy hat and a cover-up that—unfortunately—covered
up. The wide owl sunglasses she had on, all that luxurious hair bundled up in
her hat, completed the picture. He didn’t know what it was a picture of, but it
wasn’t the wildly sexy woman in the bikini he’d looked down on from the
balcony.

Plopping down next to her on the jumbo towel, he fingered
the terry cloth trailing over her bent knees. “What’s this?”

“The sun’s too hot.”

“It’s like that in the Caribbean. That’s what sunscreen is
for.” He wagged the bottle at her.

“Oh, thanks. I’ll put some on my shins since this wrap isn’t
long enough to cover those.”

When she reached for the bottle, he whipped it out of her
reach. “No, no, none of that. I brought the sunscreen out. I get to put it on.”