Dynasties: The Lassiters

“Even if he couldn’t share what was most precious of all.”

“His time? I knew he loved us both. But there were sacrifices. You can’t have everything.”

“Do you see much of them now?”

“They passed away ten years ago within months of each other.”

“That must have been hard.”

“We’ve all got to go sometime. Better to go in your seventies than…” His jaw tensed and he looked away.

Was he remembering the woman he had loved in college? Did he wonder what they might have shared and conquered together if she had lived? Becca wasn’t sure he would have taken his father’s route and dedicated his life to a company in order to ensure security for his family. She would rather believe that he’d have taken his own son fly-fishing often—spent quality time with those he loved.

Jack sat up. “Hey, you want a beer? A glass of wine?”

“Beer,” she said, reaching over the side of the bed to find her dress.

“Stay put. I’ll find the bathroom, clean up and bring back supplies. Can I take the light?”

“Be my guest.”

While he was gone and she was left in the shadows, Becca shimmied under the top sheet and waited. She heard Chichi’s collar rattle from the cot in the corner as he scratched himself. She’d had plans to set Jack to work while they were here. Chopping wood, fixing loose shingles, sanding back walls, cooking simple meals. Nothing so out of the ordinary for normal folk. Her goal had been to highlight the difference between the big-time “haves” and people who had to struggle. There were plenty of them out there.

There wasn’t much work going on at the moment.

Soon, he was back carrying the ice chest in one hand, flashlight in the other. Becca took the light and he jumped in under the sheet and then set the chest down between them. As he cracked open one beer and handed it over, she picked up the thread of their conversation.

“Sounds as if you had good parents.”

“I was lucky,” he admitted, cracking open one for himself. They saluted each other and pulled down a mouthful. Becca didn’t drink beer often, but in this setting, on this night, it felt right.

“I’ve never found out who my birth mother was,” she said, resting the beer on her lap. “I didn’t want to complicate anyone’s life by dropping back in.”

“Isn’t it usually the other way around? A biological parent not wanting to make waves in the adult child’s life?”

“I figure it might not be easy, but there are ways to track down a baby who’s been gobbled up in the system. If she didn’t want to know, it’s better left alone.”

“You never wanted to know the reasons?”

“Not anymore. Can’t change yesterdays. And I didn’t have such a hard time, even those first eleven years.”

“Were you with lots of families?”

“Two others. I was provided for. Nobody abused me. But…” She brought the beer to her lips, swallowed another mouthful and confessed what she hadn’t told anyone before. “I knew something was missing. Something key. Sometimes I felt…invisible.” Sometimes she felt that way still. But not with Jack. Even right from the start. “It’s hard to describe.”

“Did you feel that way a lot?”

“Whenever I did, I read. Sometimes the same book over and over.”

“What was your favorite?”

“When I was very young, Cinderella.”

“A classic. Like the Bambino.”

She smiled. “I fell in love with the idea of a fairy godmother. When all the lights went out at night, I’d sit up in bed and gaze out the window for what seemed like hours. I thought if only I wished hard enough, all my dreams would come true.”

“What dreams?”

“I was an overweight, painfully shy girl. I wouldn’t say boo to save myself. But in my dreams I was a princess, like Cinders. I simply needed my godmother to wave her wand and work her magic.”

He was grinning. “Well, of course.”

“If ever I saw a mouse,” she went on, “I would close my eyes and wish for it to change into a beautiful white steed. I’d daydream that my dress was a gorgeous billowing gown made of white satin. Naturally a prince would happen along, fall on one knee and beg me to marry him.”

Jack’s eyes were smiling. “Naturally.”

“The ring he’d ask me to wear was either a big diamond circled by priceless rubies, or a pearl surrounded by a sparkling sea of sapphires. Something right out of yesteryear.”

“And then?”

Becca put her beer down. “Then I grew up, got a degree, joined the Peace Corps.”

His expression changed. “Tell me about that.”

“I served as a volunteer in the Dominican Republic for two years.”

“That would be right after college?”

“Uh-huh. I helped to teach the youth how to make good choices. We talked to women about reproduction health and nutrition. There’s so much poverty and unemployment. It’s hard to imagine my life back there now. Those two years shaped me more than anything before or since. I know the true value of a safe, soft place to land.”

“I had dreams of saving the world, too, once.”

“No. Really?”

“I’d finished my engineering business degree. I was going to fly to Africa to help build housing.”

Was he serious? “Jack, have you ever told anyone else that?”

“What? And destroy my image?”

She grinned. “So, you were going by yourself?”

“With my girlfriend. My fiancée. We were going to leave everything behind. Start fresh.”

Lying on her side, Becca laid her cheek on her outstretched arm and searched his eyes.

“What was she like?”

He seemed to think back. “Krystal was soft. Delicate. She was studying criminal law. Her father was a defense attorney, and then became a judge later in his career. I never thought she was cut out for it. She didn’t fit with the idea of courtroom drama and getting murderers off on a technicality. She was gentle. Easily hurt. Entirely giving.”

Becca’s heart was beating faster.

“You wanted to protect her.”

Like Jack’s father had wanted to protect his mom.

“I imagined us married with a couple of boys,” he said. “I’d come home from work every day and she’d have a delicious dinner waiting. Later, while she took some downtime, I’d play with the kids.”

Becca smiled softly. “I can imagine you doing that.” She really could. “Can I ask…how did she die?”

His jaw tightened. “Her father was one mean son of a gun. Krystal was never good enough for the judge. She was an only child, so it was up to her to follow in her dad’s giant footsteps. Carry on the legacy. She began to flunk classes. She wasn’t looking after herself. When she came down with mono, it laid her up for weeks. Then we spent Thanksgiving at her parents’. Big mistake. Her father went from cool, to frosty, to flat-out belligerent. At the table, he started attacking her, telling her that she had to try harder. If that was her best, it wasn’t near good enough.”

Becca felt ill. “Poor girl.”

“I gave him a piece of my mind. Then I was in everyone’s bad books.”

It was true. A person could say what they like about their own family, but God help anyone else who tried to bring them down.

“Krystal was depressed for weeks after that. Then, a few days before Christmas, the dark cloud seemed to lift. She was smiling again. She said that she’d come to accept that she couldn’t get away from disappointing her father, but that was okay.”

Becca knew what was coming.

A muscle in his jaw flexed before Jack ended, “She didn’t see that Christmas morning. I found her in the bathroom.”

“Oh, Jack…”

“Her father blamed me. Hell, I blamed me.”

Was this the reason he’d looked so distant when they’d visited that school—the day she’d lectured him about vulnerable young adults? He had already learned that lesson on his own.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” she said, holding his hand. “She needed professional help.”

“Instead her boyfriend added to the pressure.” He exhaled. “So, you see, sometimes it’s not so good to be handed your future, whether you think you want it or not. Big shoes are hard to fill.”

Was that his way of justifying his position with Angelica? If they should succeed in overthrowing Evan McCain, was that perspective meant to stave off guilt over persuading Angelica to later sell off the pieces?

He studied her face for a long moment before casting a look at the ice chest. Shifting his hand from under hers, he flipped open the lid again and put a casual note in his voice.

“So, what else have we got? Eggs, bacon, tomatoes? You have gas in the kitchen?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Becca was still processing everything he’d divulged. How many more layers were there to this man? What other wounds was he covering up? Her first eleven years of her life hadn’t been a picnic, but she hadn’t had anyone close to her die. Jack had lost the woman he had loved as well as both his parents. Some people grieved by putting up a wall. Shutting off certain parts of themselves. Was that Jack?

“What say I whip you up an omelet?” he said.

She tried to be light. “You cook?”

“Not well.”

“Can you chop wood?”

“If required.”

It wasn’t cool enough for a fire. Becca peered inside the ice chest. “There’s crackers and strawberries and three kinds of cheese. And look at this…” She drew out a package. “Belgian chocolate.”

“Even better than Danishes.”

She broke off two pieces and slotted one bit in his mouth, the other in her own.

“I should mention that I have a chocolate addiction,” she said around her mouthful.

“Chocolate’s good for you.”

He popped another square into her mouth and she smiled as she took in every line of his face.

“If you’re a chocoholic,” he said, “you need to try this.”

He broke off another piece of chocolate and set a strawberry on top. “Open up,” he said, and she did.

As she chewed and sighed, he made his own chocolate-strawberry stack.

“Oh, God.” She sighed. “This is so good.”

His lips came close to taste hers. “I totally agree.”

Eleven

After their picnic and talk in bed, Becca fell asleep in Jack’s arms.

He lay there for he didn’t know how long, thinking back on how he’d opened up about that piece of his past. The words had come remarkably easy. The emotion hadn’t been as painful as he’d remembered. Time healed all wounds? Maybe that was true. It was the scars he couldn’t seem to kick.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, morning light was streaking in through the window, warming the room with a gauzy golden glow. Smiling, Jack stretched. Man, he felt good. And the reason was lying right here alongside of him.

He reached out to bring Becca close—and came up empty. The only sign of her was the impression left on the sheet.

Jack sat up.

The cot was empty, too. Other than birds chirping and squawking outside, all was quiet. The screened window was open, letting in pine-scented fresh air. No smog. No traffic. No meetings.

No phone calls?

Was there even reception out here?

Jack swung out of bed, grabbed some jeans and pulled them on. Then he found his phone. Some texts and three voicemails. One from Logan, one from Angelica and one from David Baldwin.

Wearing cutoffs and a T-shirt that read “Choose Happiness,” Becca entered the room. Her flawless face broke into a big smile. “You’re up!”

Something pleasant tugged in Jack’s gut. He crossed over, folded her up in his arms and nuzzled the top of her head. She felt soft and warm and smelled like sunshine. If Angelica was okay when he called back, maybe they could stay an additional couple of days. Or three, or four.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her hair.

She laughed. “You’ve been awake two minutes.”

“One minute.”

Pulling away, she spotted the phone in his hand. When her smile cooled, he felt a spike of guilt—which he shouldn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if we got reception out this far,” he said.

“It’s patchy. Any messages?”

“A few.”

While her eyes still shone, her mouth tightened. “Anything important?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Angelica?” Jack nodded. “You going to call her back?” She held up her hands. “Sorry. Stupid question. She might be planning a coup for this afternoon. You wouldn’t want to miss that.”

Jack caught her as she turned to leave. “Becca, this was always a tricky situation.”

She kept her gaze on the wooden floor. “I didn’t think it’d get this tricky.”

Ah, hell.

He brought her close again and, lifting her chin, searched those sparkling green eyes. “Are you sorry we came?”

“Up until a second ago, for so many reasons, I wasn’t. I wanted to take you away from everything that drives your need to win. I wanted you to live a simple life and appreciate it, even for a couple of days. I thought you might see how little people need, and how easy it would be for everyone to have that if we all cared enough. But now…”

“What we shared last night was amazing. But I still have to help Angelica. I just have to.”

“Because someone has a gun to your head?”

Jack struggled and then admitted, “I can’t explain.”

“No need. It’s pretty obvious.”

He studied her wounded, defiant look and then put the phone down on the side table.

Her gaze snapped from the phone back to him. “You’re not going to call her?”

“Angelica can wait.”

But then his phone rang. Becca swept it up and held it out for him, daring him to refuse, hoping that he would. He wanted to ignore the call, but now it had rung a bigger part wanted to reconnect and plug into what was going on beyond the walls of this cabin. He couldn’t walk away from this deal, not even for Becca.

He took the phone, connected. It wasn’t Angelica.

“Hope I didn’t catch you too early,” David Baldwin said. “I left a message—”

Annoyed, Jack cut in. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m having a get-together this afternoon. I know you’re probably busy.”

Chichi pranced in with a stick between his small, pointy teeth. Jack turned toward the window view. “A bit, yeah.”

“But if you could make it over, just for a few moments…it’s important.”

“David, I really don’t think—”

“Don’t give me your answer now.” He gave a time for the event. “At the shop. Hope to see you there.”

David Baldwin could hope all he liked.

Chichi was going to town, chewing his stick on the cot. Becca, however, had disappeared.

As Jack headed for the doorway, she marched by, carrying the ice chest. He strode out and took it from her. For Pete’s sake.

“What exactly is the rush?” he asked.

“It’s time to go.”

“You said two days and two nights.”

“I’ve changed my mind. Things have gotten off track. This won’t work.”

Jack put down the chest and turned off his phone. “Weren’t we fixing bacon and eggs?” Amid the giggling and kissing last night, there’d been some mention of cooking breakfast before she’d fallen asleep.

“I’d rather just get back on the road. You know…get back to reality.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She knotted her arms over her chest. “I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with me. For a second there, I’d actually talked myself into believing that I might have reached your human side. A caring side that didn’t have stealing and then raping Lassiter Media as next on his to-do list. But you can’t wait to get back into it.”

Jack flinched. Well, that stung.

“One day,” he said, “I promise, we’ll sit down and I’ll give you the lowdown on this Lassiter business from my perspective. Just…not today. I can’t today.” He filed his fingers back through her silky hair and waited for her to meet his gaze. “Now, can I make us a coffee?”

“That won’t fix anything.”

“It sure won’t hurt.”

When he grinned, she bit her lip, exhaled and finally nodded. As they headed back to the kitchen, she said, “I guess there’s still a part of me who believes in a fairy godmother. She was just here, expecting a miracle.”

“Could be that’s what I like most about you,” he said. “Your faith.” He stopped and turned her in the circle of one arm.

“You mean my temper,” she said.

“Your tenacity.”

“My stubborn streak.”

“I like this about you, too.”

His lips met hers and lingered there. Closing his eyes, he drank in all that sassy, strong-headed goodness. When he drew away, her eyes narrowed even as those succulent lips twitched.

“Next you’ll be suggesting we take our coffee back to bed.”

“Well, just remember.” He lowered his head to kiss her properly. “It was your idea.”

When she brought it up again, Jack didn’t try to talk her out of leaving the cabin. She didn’t need for matters between the two of them to get any more complicated than they already were, and he obviously needed to get back to see what Angelica was up to.

He’d tried to phone Angelica a number of times. When he’d failed to reach her, he’d grown more and more preoccupied. He even admitted that he wondered if Angelica was purposely avoiding his calls now because she planned to do something he would stop if he could. When they finally got on the road after lunch, Becca couldn’t shake the sense of guilt.

She had allowed her emotions to get the better of her where Jack was concerned. She’d taken him to the cabin not to give in to the attraction brewing between them, but to somehow help him gain perspective away from his cut-throat corporate world. She wanted to show him in a hands-on way he would remember that lots of people went without even the bare necessities. Had her scheme done any good at all, or had she only made matters worse?

Still, what Jack and she had shared at the cabin was more than physical. At least it had been for her. However much she abhorred Jack’s business tactics and egocentric mind-set, whenever they had been together in an intimate sense, she hadn’t been able to help falling just a little in love with him.

Chichi had sat on Becca’s lap all the drive back to Santa Monica. When Jack pulled into the quiet beachside parking lot in a space right next to Hailey’s café, the dog was quivering with excitement. Then Becca opened the car door; she couldn’t stop Chichi from bolting up the ramp into the café’s rear entrance.

Jack got out and hauled the ice chest off the backseat.

“Want to chow down while we’re here?” Becca asked, joining him.

“Best to keep going.”

He was eager to get back to L.A. He needed to call on Angelica, keep that Lassiter takeover ball rolling and on track. Becca had felt his preoccupation building for the whole drive back. Now, as they walked up the café’s ramp together, he seemed disconnected.

As they made their way around the veranda, Hailey and Chichi appeared.

“How was the trip?” Hailey asked. “Hope Chichi behaved himself.”

Jack set down the chest. As they took their usual seats and Hailey poured coffee, Becca let her friend know what had happened with Chichi the previous day at the lake…minus the bits about Jack and her being, well, otherwise occupied.

“I’m sorry,” Becca said. “We should have kept a closer eye on him.”

Hailey waved it off. “Way I see it, he probably just wanted to give you two some space.”

When she flicked a knowing glance Jack’s way, he held his expression, no hint of cheekiness or denial. But Becca’s chest tightened. In his mind, he’d already moved on. What they had shared at the lake was in the past. He was back in corporate-raider mode and focused on bringing down his current target.

When neither Jack nor Becca commented, Hailey’s expression grew concerned. “Oh, God,” she murmured. “You don’t know. There’s no TV out at the cabin.”

Jack’s brow creased as he sat forward. “What happened?”

“It was on this morning,” Hailey went on.

“You mean the interview from the reporter who ambushed us yesterday?” Becca asked.

“There were clips from that interview….” Hailey pressed her lips together. “It’s the photos that got everyone talking.”

Becca suddenly felt dizzy and she couldn’t feel her face.

“What photos?” she groaned. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“You must have been followed,” Hailey said. “They had shots of you both in that lake, taken with a telescopic lens, so they were kinda grainy. But it’s pretty clear what you all were doing.”

While Jack sat back like he’d been shot in the chest, the knot of horror in Becca’s stomach pulled apart and spread through every inch of her body. Everything around her, other than Jack’s scowl, seemed to funnel back and fade to black.

Becca was always fighting the hard fight, standing up for morals and justice. Now she shut her eyes as that darkness enveloped her.

Despite keeping an eye out, Hailey said they must have been followed. Had they been followed back here, too?

She had to phone the office again and make certain Evans McCain understood. Things had gotten—confused, but she was still one hundred percent on his side.

“There’s more,” Hailey said, wincing.

Jack rubbed his brow. “Of course there is.”

“Angelica Lassiter has called a press conference,” Hailey went on, “scheduled for this afternoon.”

Jack thumped the table and everyone, including Chichi, jumped. When he pushed to his feet, the action sent his chair skating and clattering into the one behind it.

Becca stood, too, hugged her friend and whispered in her ear, “I’ll call you later.”

Becca followed Jack around the veranda and down the ramp. Before he reached the driver’s-side door of her Bambino, he stopped abruptly and spun around. She almost ran into him.

He held out his hand. “Keys.”

Becca fumbled in her bag and slapped them in his palm. “You’re going to see Angelica,” she said.

“As soon as humanly possible.”

Jack threw open the car door. As Becca skirted around and jumped in the passenger side, he turned the key in the ignition. The lights flashed up on the dash…but the engine didn’t kick over. He growled and tried again.

Nothing.

He set his teeth, raised his fists, but held off somehow from smashing down on the wheel. If Becca was upset, Jack was livid. And then…

Things went from bad to a hundred times worse.

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