Man Trouble (34 page)

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, be smarter. Make this situation work for you. You know that Fox news show,
Inside Edge?
They would pay big money for a story like this.”

“No way,” Molly said.

“We could do it together,” Carter persisted. “A live appearance on the show, to break the story, and then a deal with one of the tabloids to tell the details. I'll write the story and arrange the whole thing, then we'll split the money, sixty-forty, in your favor, naturally—”

“No,” Molly said again, sharply. “I'm not going to betray Jake.”

“Betray?” Carter echoed. “Hello! If he were some poor innocent, I'd agree with you, but he's not a good guy. He deserves everything that he's got coming to him. He's
using
you, Molly. You're just a tool to him—a strategy for his own success. He doesn't care about you, so why not use him right back?”

Molly stood up. “I have to go,” she said. “Have a good trip home, and call me when you relocate your morals.”

“Wait, wait,” Carter said quickly. “So the money doesn't matter to you. What about justice? What about your job at Belden? Have you forgotten what he did?”

“Of course I haven't forgotten,” Molly said. She reached down and ran her finger over the rim of her juice glass. “I just…don't feel angry about it anymore. I think he did me a favor, in a strange way. It was for the best.”

Carter looked dismayed. “But—”

“What's the matter with you?” she asked, exasperated. “You've been telling me for
two years
that I should leave Belden. And you were right. I should have listened.”

Carter exhaled in a long, audible breath. “As your friend, Molly, I have to tell you that it's really hard to help you when you keep refusing to act in your own interest.”

“You don't understand,” Molly said.

He looked reproachfully at her. “Are you really going to become Jake's sacrificial lamb, just because you have a little crush on him?”

“No, but it's not—”

“I thought you were tougher than that.”

“I am, but—”

“And I thought you were living only for yourself now.”

“I
am,”
Molly said impatiently, “but—”

“So how can you justify letting Jake get away with—”

“Because I'm in love with him!” Molly shouted. “That's how! I keep trying to tell you that it's not just a crush. I'm in love with Jake Berenger, so stop asking me to destroy his life. I can't do it! I won't.”

“Oh, no,” Carter said. He looked horrified. “No, no. This is not right. You are
not
in love, Molly. Remember what we talked about? The glitter, the gold? The dazzle? This is temporary! Not real! You were the one who said that Jake is a shallow playboy, remember? You said that I should pick someone more worthy to write about.”

Molly was quickly becoming very sorry that she'd ever said anything. “Carter, please calm down. I'm trying to get over it, okay? Pretty soon I'll be back in Chicago, sitting at Java Jerry's with you. Everything will be fine.”

“Not if you don't wise up,” Carter snapped. “You don't know as much about him as I do. I talked to all of the ex-girlfriends, remember? They were
all
in love with him! And he used them, just like he's using you, except that he didn't cost them their careers.”

“He hasn't cost me mine, either,” Molly said wearily. “I'm a novelist now,
remember?”

Molly sat with Cora Berenger on the terrace while they waited for Jake to finish packing.

“I'm glad that you're going with Jake this time,” Cora said. “A trip to New York is much more civilized than spending the week climbing around on those old ruins at Dyer's Fortune. I worry about you when you're up there, dear. You could break your ankle.”

“I'm very careful,” Molly said. “You know, there's danger in the big city, too. I could get mugged.”

“Not at the museum, you can't,” Cora said. “You see? I know all about you.” She chuckled. “I'm trying to imagine Skye Elliot at a museum. Or climbing around on an unrestored historical site, for that matter.”

“She did it for
Revenge of the Mummy,
didn't she?”

“Hardly. They used a stunt double for anything that involved more effort than drinking champagne. I believe that Skye's standard contract entitles her to half a million dollars compensation for every broken nail.”

“You're kidding.”

“Well, yes, but I do know that all of her jungle scenes were filmed on a sound stage in Hollywood. Believe me, my dear, you are very different than the sort of woman that my son used to associate with.”

“Is that good or bad?” Molly asked.

“Good,” Cora said firmly. “But you're causing loyalty problems for me. I'd like to see you get your Mary Morgan museum. How is the research going? Any luck?”

“Some,” Molly said vaguely. Cora was not the only one plagued by loyalty problems. She still hadn't broken the news of her proof to Jake, and she was increasingly unwilling to do so. She never would have expected a conflict between her obligations as an historian and her personal feelings, but despite her commitment to preserving the Morgan site, she was reluctant to hurt Jake in any way. She was delaying, trying not to think about it, hoping that by April, the Berenger stock would recover to a point where the Atlas takeover was no longer a threat and Jake's own position was more secure. In that case, the relocation of the golf course would be a costly inconvenience, but not a serious blow.

“Are you still planning to write a book about Mary?” Cora asked curiously. “Jake said that you wanted to write a novel about her life.”

Molly was surprised by the question, but then remembered saying that to Jake weeks ago, on the beach, during one of her Sandra routines. She had only been ad-libbing, of course, trying to needle him.

“I was actually thinking about doing a nonfiction book,” Molly said. “A biography, but an exciting one. It would be hard to write a boring book about someone as dramatic as Mary.”

“Good idea,” Jake said from the doorway, and they turned to look at him. He was wearing a suit and carrying a black leather garment bag. He walked toward them and draped the bag over the back of a chair. “Write a book that will get made into a movie, and then we'll expand Gold Bay to keep up with the tourist demand to see Bonny Mary's old house. Hell, I'll use the other side of the island to build a pirate theme park. I might be willing to negotiate on this museum after all.”

Cora nodded. “And Molly will become even more famous, of course. Those terrible people at Belden will come crawling to her, begging her to come back to Wisconsin and start a pirate research center…”

Molly laughed. “Or maybe not,” she said. “But that's okay. It'll be an interesting project.”

“Yes, if that son of mine doesn't get in your way,” Cora said. “Jake, it would be terrible if we knocked down the old plantation and then found out later that it really had belonged to Mary.”

He regarded her with mock irritation. “Whose side are you on?”

Cora turned to Molly. “He's stubborn, but I'll do what I can to persuade him to postpone the demolition date, if it comes down to that.”

Jake cleared his throat. “Time to go,” he said abruptly. “Molly, where's your suitcase?”

“I gave it to the butler,” Molly said. She stood up and kissed Cora on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said to the older woman.

Cora squeezed her hand. “Don't worry, dear, I do have some influence.”

“More than I do,” Molly said lightly. “I couldn't get him to budge beyond April first.”

“The first?” Cora looked puzzled. “No, that isn't right. They aren't even scheduled to begin until the middle of April, and I think we might be able to push that date back a few weeks, if you need more time—Oh! My goodness. Are you all right?”

Molly had just stepped backward and knocked over Cora's teacup. It rolled off of the table, spraying both of them with brown droplets, and then shattered on the terrace's stone floor.

“That's going to stain,” Cora said, clucking her tongue at the sight of Molly's shirt. She pressed the wireless button to summon the butler. “No, no, dear, don't worry about the cup. Just leave it, and go and change. I don't want you to be late.”

Molly's face was red. “Wait,” she said, “I think I must be confused. Do you mean—”

Jake took her by the arm. “We need to get going,” he said.

Molly balked, still facing Cora. “You're talking about pushing the start date back a few
more
weeks, right? Because it's already been pushed back to April.” She glanced at Jake. “Right?”

“No, dear,” Cora said cheerfully, and Molly heard Jake exhale hard. “The April date has been set for months—almost a year. You have to arrange these things far in advance for big commercial projects, especially in remote locations.” She looked curiously at Molly, then at her son. “Oh. Did I say something wrong?”

Jake was rubbing his forehead as if his head had suddenly started to ache. “Look,” he said to Molly, “I can explain…”

“I don't believe this,” Molly said. “Your
generous concession
to postpone the demolition until April…the one that you used to persuade me to help you with your PR project…it was a
lie?
You were scheduled to begin in April all along?”

“Jake,” Cora said disapprovingly.

He threw an exasperated glance at her. “Excuse us,” he said, and walked Molly into the living room.

“You have no idea how much this is going to cost me,”
Molly quoted, glaring at him. “Does that sound familiar?”

“Vaguely,” he said.

“It should. You were right—I had no idea that it was going to cost you nothing. Nothing! All that talk about the expense of delaying such a huge project for my sake, and how you were willing to take the risk if I would help you in exchange…”

“It didn't cost you anything, either,” Jake pointed out. “The end result is the same. You have until April to locate your proof. What difference do the circumstances make?”

“A lot of difference! I've been helping you in good faith, and all you gave me in return was a false sense of your own willingness to compromise. You tricked me.”

He nodded. “I did. That's true, and I apologize. But I haven't lied to you since the very first day, when I met you at the ruins. I admit to doing it then. I don't lie to my friends or my family, but you were a stranger that day. If I told the truth to every stranger who asked me questions, I wouldn't have made it very far in life. Except maybe as a priest.”

“I don't know how you can face me and say that,” Molly exclaimed. “You lied when you proposed your scheme! You told me that in exchange for my help, you would postpone the demolition of Dyer's Fortune until April—”

“No. That's what you heard, but not what I said. I was very careful. I said that I would give you until April to find your proof. You assumed that I meant that I was postponing the demolition, and I admit that I didn't bother to correct you.”

“Oh, clever you,” Molly said. “And I didn't bother to ask for details. Well, you shouldn't feel too pleased with yourself. One of these days, I might have a little surprise of my own.”

He raised his eyebrows, but she didn't elaborate. Whether he had lied or not wasn't the point. It was another example of his willingness to manipulate her to suit his own ends, and Molly felt a fresh surge of anxiety. She wondered if she had been too hasty in dismissing Carter's assertion that Jake cared more about his own agenda than he did about her. She had begun to believe otherwise, but what if she was wrong? She had fallen in love with him, but what if that had been his intention? No doubt he preferred to have her gazing doe-eyed at him rather than worrying about her stabbing him in the back.

Jake held out his hand to her, and she took it, studying his face. She could see nothing but sincerity in his eyes. “Forgive me,” he said. “I would have told you the truth at some point. I honestly didn't think it mattered that much. We have a history of playing games with each other, don't we? But they've always been harmless.”

“Exposing me as Sandra wasn't harmless,” Molly said. “I lost my job, and even if I don't want it back, it was still a rotten thing to do.”

Jake's mouth tightened, and he seemed about to say something sharp. But then he stopped. “I thought we were beyond that by now,” he said. “Does this mean that you're still looking for a chance to pay me back? You're right, that wouldn't be harmless.”

Molly shook her head. She felt miserable, suddenly. “I just want to forget about the whole thing,” she said.

“That makes two of us,” Jake said. Gathering her into his arms, he held her snugly, and she hugged him, feeling the crisp white cotton of his shirt against her cheek. The smell of cologne and laundry soap and warm male skin surrounded her, and she wished that she could stay forever in the protective circle of his arms.

But she couldn't shake off her apprehension. Abraham Lincoln had said that the only reliable way to get rid of your enemies was to turn them into your friends. What if Jake saw a tactical purpose in going one better than that? It wasn't impossible, but Molly couldn't bear to think about it.

CHAPTER 32

J
ake had always liked New York City. It was exciting and dynamic; arguably the most interesting spot on earth. Cracking the Manhattan market had been a longtime goal for him, finally achieved by the acquisition and renovation of the new Berenger Grand. Now that his company had a strong presence in the city, he felt for the first time that he belonged there.

His apartment at the Grand was still so new that he had only used it on two previous trips. He remembered the first time that he had stayed there, alone in the echoing rooms. He had known intellectually that the place was beautiful, but had felt no emotional warmth for it, or any real pleasure in being there.

Molly had changed all that, though. Her presence had turned the apartment from a piece of walk-through sculpture into something that felt like a home. He liked waking up in the morning and seeing her asleep next to him, tangled in the covers, her hair spread out over the pillow. And he liked returning at night, knowing that she would be there. They spent Monday and Tuesday nights lingering over late dinners from room service, talking until the last of Jake's energy began to fade.