The Princess and the Pauper (19 page)

A strange relief slipped over April. It had been Jordan who’d been interested in Tasha in high school; Jordan who had created Jesse’s aversion to Tasha; Jordan who had longed for a Windsor Estates girl. April hadn’t even realized she’d cared until this moment. No wonder Jesse had been so cold and derogatory. He hadn’t wanted to suffer the same fate as his brother.

But he had, hadn’t he?

April buried her nose in her mug as Tasha whisked by. Her hand trailed along Jordan’s sleeve as she scooted onto her stool next to him. “Hello… Jesse, isn’t it?” Her tone was careful.

Nothing changed in Jesse’s expression. “That’s right.”

“You and Jordan are related?” She looked to Jordan for confirmation.

“Brothers,” Jordan said shortly.

“Tell her the truth, Jordan. We’re half brothers. He’s only tainted with part of my blood.” Jesse smiled.

“What kind of comment is that?” Tasha asked with a laugh. A bit nervously, April thought.

“The truth, darlin’.” Jesse shrugged, ignoring Jordan’s black look.

Hoping to defuse the situation, April made the supreme mistake of dropping a hand onto Jesse’s arm. It was like blowing a whistle in a silent room. Everyone gaze jerked toward her in surprise. “I’ve got to get going,” she said. “Would you mind walking me back?”

Jesse downed the rest of his beer, tossed some change on to the counter and took April’s arm before Tasha had time to close her mouth.

They walked outside, listening to the rain pound against the gray- and black-striped awning over Barnaby’s front doors. Neither spoke. A smile lurked on Jesse’s lips.

“What?” April asked a trifle irritably, after a long moment.

“You. You don’t have to protect Jordan. If he wants Tasha, he’s got to learn to take the heat.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffed, stepping into the rain.

“Hah.” He followed after her, clasping her hand, making her run to the corner.

Water flooded over the curb, soaking her toes. She could imagine the black dye spreading onto her stockings and discoloring her feet. Longingly she thought of a warm bath.

“Jordan says the roads were flooding. Think I can get home yet?” she asked.

“No. Ready to take the plunge?”

There was nothing else to do. April slipped off her shoes; heaven only knows why, she thought, since they were sopping wet, anyway. She held them in one hand, still clasping Jesse’s warm palm with the other, and stepped off the curb.

With a shriek of laughter she sank to midcalf. “It’s cold!”

“Come on.” Grinning like a pirate he pulled her across the street, half jumping, half sloshing through the water. The roads were empty; no people, just forlorn, abandoned cars with gushing rainwater circling their bumpers.

April was laughing as they hurried down the concrete ramp of the car park. “Do I look as drowned as I feel?”

“Yes.” He still held her hand.

“You know, you should learn to lie. It would make things easier.”

“What things?”

“Any
thing,” she answered.

She was shivering as they approached her car. Jesse released her hand and watched her fumble with her keys again as he casually leaned against the fender of a black Dodge charger that looked like some high school junior’s fondest dream. April frowned. She didn’t know anyone who worked for Hollis’s who owned a car like that.

“Why are you getting in your car?” he asked.

“I have to get home.”

“You’ll ruin your engine. It’ll die before you’ve driven a mile out of Portland.”

“Well, what would you suggest I do, then?”

“We could talk. There are some things we need to discuss.”

She allowed herself one glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He almost looked respectable, she thought. He still wore jeans and his leather jacket, but his shirt was white, its collar open. His damp hair was a bit shorter now than ten years earlier, she thought. It lay gracefully against his collar. With a faint smile curving his mouth, and with his eyes regarding her lazily, he looked sexy and approachable, as if his appearance was a studied attempt at chic nonchalance.

“You’re not exactly my idea of a great conversationalist.”

He acknowledged that with a slight inclination of his head. When he showed her the invoices, he decided grimly, she was going to think that even more.

“You know, you look like you were made to stand beside that car. It could be a pose.” April swept a hand in front of her as if imagining a poster. “Levis, black leather and rain, a Dodge charger, it all looks good on you.” She leveled a look at him. “I think you should give up the motorcycle and buy one of those cars.”

His laughter took her by surprise. It was deep and arresting, rumbling in his chest. “It
is
my car.”

April stared. She thought he was kidding.

“Or should I say, it’s the department car – courtesy of a narcotics bust. You like it?”

“Oh.” April turned back to her own car.

“Hey.” He came up behind her, moving his hands down her arms. The small of her back pressed alarmingly against his belt buckle. A shiver shimmied up her lower spine. “Don’t go. I don’t want to think of you stranded out there.”

April shook her head. His sexual energy sizzled. “Stay away from me,” she said.

“I need to talk to you.” He sighed. “I’ve got to show you something.”

“I’m afraid to ask what.”

“April.” He turned her around, his hands on her shoulders. “Those invoices I took the other night? Some are dummies, fakes. They’re not in the computer. They’ve got your initials on them, and Jordan’s.”

She blinked uncomprehendingly. Her mind was on the hard span of his chest. Dimly she realized that he was revealing something important. “Well, then I signed them. Didn’t I?”

“I don’t know.” He shook her, gently. “Listen to me. Something big’s going down at your store.”

Her head cleared, her thoughts icy cold. “You do think I’m behind it, don’t you? Well, I guess if you believe in the obvious, I’m the choice.”

“It’s too damn obvious,” he admitted flatly. “But because of you, I’ve been second-guessing myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want it to be you.” He snorted in self-deprecation. “I’ve been driving myself crazy over this. It’s too close. Too personal. I don’t trust myself.”

Tentatively she glanced up at him through her lashes. What was he saying? “You mean you don’t want it to be Jordan,” she corrected.

“Damn it, April.”

She rarely played coy; she couldn’t ever remember playing coy. Right now, however, she wanted to draw his feelings out so badly that she would have resorted to murder if it would have helped.

She didn’t have to.

“I want you,” he said softly.

She stared at him, her lips parting.

“I
want
you,” he repeated, as if she’d suddenly gone deaf. The anger in his voice amused her.

They’d come full circle, from her wanting him to him wanting her. It was sweet revenge – and dangerously intoxicating. April witnessed the simmering flame of passion in his eyes.

And then she thought about Eden. Jesse’s daughter.

“I’ve got to get home,” she said tightly, turning her chin away.

He swore, softly and succinctly. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to release her, but then he practically flung her away. “Fine. I’ll drive you.”

“No.”

“Yes.” He simply removed the key from her hand, then unlocked the door to the Dodge charger. “Save the BMW. This baby’s seen a lot of wear. If we ruin the engine, it’ll be in the line of duty. Get in.”

April wasn’t that eager to be left on her own, so she did as he’d ordered, annoyed at his arrogance nonetheless. Then she was struck mute by the smells and textures inside the low-slung car. Jesse’s scent enveloped her like a warm memory. The seats were smooth, black leather, worn but intact. The throb of the engine tingled her nerves. She could feel the stereo’s resonance in her bones.

“This reminds me too much of high school,” she remarked.

He backed out of the car park. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You love it, don’t you?”

“I’m not the BMW type,” he admitted.

April closed her eyes. No, he wasn’t the BMW type. He wasn’t
her
type. She sank back into the leather seat and ignored him.

The rain had lessened to a depressingly incessant drizzle. Water sprayed upward in silver jets as Jesse maneuvered out of the car park and to the center of the street, where the river was merely three inches deep rather than six. He drove cautiously, stopping at the first traffic light, which still changed from green to red, even though the road was virtually empty.

“Which way?” he asked.

“West Hills.”

“Ahh…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” April asked coolly as Jesse nosed the car toward the northwest.

“Where in West Hills? You want me to take Burnside or Sunset?”

“Burnside. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You figure it out.”

April made a sound of contempt and stared out the side window. West Hills wasn’t the only prestigious section of Portland. Jesse, in his own way, was a worse snob than she could ever think of being.

From that moment on, the only words that came out of April’s mouth were directions up the wet and slippery streets to her cliffside home. By the time they reached the crest of the road, Portland’s lights had winked out below them, covered by dense, gray clouds.

“That one.” April pointed to her house. Through the flapping windshield wipers she could see the row of lights lining the brick driveway like dutiful sentinels.

Jesse pulled in and waited as April, her fingers on the door handle, struggled for something to say. “Thank you for the ride,” she finally said tersely.

“You’re welcome.”

Through the warm yellow glow of the front window, Eden appeared, a soft blur as she pressed her nose to the pane. “My daughter,” April said unnecessarily.

Jesse nodded.

It seemed that everything these last ten years had come down to this moment. Father and daughter. It was too dangerous to let them meet. Yet if she didn’t seize this chance, would she ever have another?

She struggled to tell him. She actually opened her mouth. But cowardice won. With another murmured thank-you, she ducked out of his car and dashed to her front door.

Headlights swung away as he backed onto the street. To add to April’s misery, she felt hot tears mingle with the rain on her cheeks.

Chapter Ten

T
he paper trail of evidence snaked across Jordan’s desk, as if it were leading to the truth in some strange board game. Jordan stared blankly down at the invoices. “Yes, those are my initials,” he said, looking first to April, then to Jesse. “Why?”

“Are you sure you signed those?” Jesse asked.

“You want me to swear on a Bible? It says JT, clear as day. Does anyone else in the store have my initials? What’s it to you, anyway ?” Jordan gave his brother a considering look.

April stood a little apart from them. She felt detached from this ugly scene. She didn’t believe Jordan was at fault; neither did Jesse, come to that. But Jesse had to be sure. The evidence was damning.

She’d called her father the night after Jesse had brought her home, and told him about the invoices. She hadn’t cared whether Jesse had wanted her to or not. And she hadn’t mentioned Jesse’s name. Her father, like herself, had felt Jordan’s initials on the invoices were too pat. The theif would not have incriminated himself in that way.

Now she said, “My initials are on those invoices, too, Jordan. I didn’t sign them.”

Jordan’s gaze swung to April. She could practically see the high-speed calculations traveling through his mind. “Someone’s been ordering inventory without permission?” His glance sliced back to the invoices with new interest. “Someone’s been
shipping
inventory without permission? What is this?”

Jesse hefted an unopened cardboard box bearing Hollis’s logo onto Jordan’s desk. He pulled out a pocket knife and deftly slit the box open. Then he took out the Styrofoam packing, removed two small stacks of children’s stuffed toys, then lifted out a full-length, silver fox coat.

Jordan stared in amazement as the lush furs slipped through Jesse’s fingers. “Mother f—” He managed to cut himself off.

“It was shipped from the store to Hollis’s warehouse near the docks,” Jesse explained. “The warehouse is somewhat remote. Most of Hollis’s inventory is shipped by truck, so the dock warehouse isn’t used as much. But from the warehouse it magically disappeared. Someone walked away with it.” Jesse’s face was stone. He knew more about the store’s operations than he cared to.

“How come you know so much?” Jordan asked softly.

“Because it’s my job.”

Jordan stared at him. “You’re a cop?” Jesse didn’t respond, but Jordan understood. “You’re here, investigating
me
?”

April couldn’t bear to hear the edge of betrayal in Jordan’s voice. “My father ordered the investigation. Jesse took the case because he was afraid someone else might not get to the truth.”

“I was afraid your record might work against you,” Jesse pointed out quietly.