One Baby, Two Secrets

“Francie’s sister?” Rex asked with clear surprise.

“It seems that’s the little sister,” said Quentin, a thoughtful thread running through his tone as he perused the woman with obvious curiosity.

“Who’s Francie?” Brody asked, cataloging the women he’d met since striking up his acquaintance with Quentin. He didn’t recall anyone named Francie.

“My baby-mama,” said Quentin.

The revelation surprised Brody. “You have a child?”

“Annabelle.”

Quentin had a daughter. Brody couldn’t imagine how his research had overlooked that fact.

“How old is she?” he asked, looking to fill in the blanks while trying to imagine Quentin as a father.

Quentin glanced to Rex, as if he didn’t know his own daughter’s age.

“Around six months,” Rex answered.

“I had no idea,” Brody said.

“Why would you?” Rex asked, his smirk of superiority clearly intended to remind Brody he was a newcomer to this social circle, while Rex had known Quentin since junior high.

“She died last week,” Quentin said in a matter-of-fact tone.

A sick feeling invaded Brody’s stomach. “Your baby died?”

“Francie died,” said Rex.

Brody was relieved, but then he was immediately sorry for Francie, and he was appalled by Quentin’s apparently callous attitude toward the mother of his child. Not that he should have been surprised. Aside from the extravagant spending, what he knew so far was that Quentin Roo was cold, calculating and self-centered in just about every aspect of his life.

Brody’s attention moved back to the jaw-dropping woman named Kate. He pondered her notice-me appearance. Her sister had died last week? And she was at a party, in a place like this, dressed like that?

Nice.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Brody offered to Quentin.

Quentin gave a shrug. “She was fun, I suppose. But if she hadn’t got knocked up, it would have been over a long time ago.”

Just when Brody thought his opinion of Quentin couldn’t sink any further, it did.

“Did she live here?” It seemed a long shot that Francie was involved in the Beast Blue Designs’ intellectual property theft. But information was information, and Brody was gathering all he could.

“I let her use the gatehouse. Made it easier. I could sometimes see the kid when I had time.”

Between drunken bashes? Brody bit back the sarcastic retort. Quentin’s personal life was none of his business.

“What’s the sister’s story?” asked Rex, ogling Kate from the tips of her purple highlighted hair to the heels of her glittering sandals.

Brody found himself doing the same. He wasn’t proud of the behavior, but he was mesmerized. Even in that gaudy getup, she was a knockout.

“Don’t know,” said Quentin. “Don’t really care.”

“She showed up out of the blue?” asked Rex.

“Apparently she came down from Seattle.”

“Had you met her before?” Although this Kate person had nothing to do with his investigation into Quentin’s gaming technology company, Brody found himself curious.

“Never even knew she existed,” said Quentin.

Suspicion grew thick in Rex’s tone. “So today was the first time you met her?”

“You want me to check her ID?”

“Being Francie’s sister doesn’t entitle her to anything,” Rex said. “You can’t hand out your money to every person who crosses your path.”

“It’s a whole lot easier than fighting them.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Path of least resistance. Besides, the money train’s not about to derail.”

Brody clenched his jaw then downed the remainder of his Shet Select single malt. The taste grounded him, reminding him of his home in the Scottish Highlands, of his parents, his brother and his purpose for being here. Quentin’s money train might still be going, but only because he’d ripped off the Calder family’s technology.

Brody was here to prove Quentin had stolen from his family. And he was determined to send that money train right off the nearest cliff.

“You have better things to spend it on than opportunistic gold diggers,” said Rex.

“Really? Name one.” Quentin then turned his attention back to Vera, Miss Ventura County. “Think I’ll get me a look at that baby owl.”

Brody reminded himself to stay in character. He gave a salacious grin of approval to Quentin. “Go get ’er.”

Quentin smiled in anticipation, polished off his martini and rose to his feet.

Two steps later, Kate Dunhern moved into his path.

“Hello, Quentin,” she said.

Her tone was smooth, cultured, far different than Brody had expected. He thought he detected an underlying trace of nervousness. He wondered why she was nervous. Was she going to make a pitch for a payout right here and now?

“Hello, Kate,” Quentin responded in a level tone. “Good to see you.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

He gestured expansively around the deck. “It’s a party.”

“I wondered if there was somewhere we could talk?”