The One Real Thing
Page 92

I flinched at her yell. It appeared I had unwittingly awoken a dragon. “I can.” I’d also had similar periods of panic since turning thirty. I hadn’t wanted a relationship until Cooper so my future plan had been to be artificially inseminated or to adopt, but the timing had just never felt right. But both Bailey and I were only two years away from mature pregnancy age. I knew all the possible risks and complications that might come with pregnancy in the mid to late thirties.
So yes, I could imagine how Bailey was feeling and more.
The bell jingled above the front door just as Bailey opened her mouth to fire a second launch of pent-up frustration. Her eyebrows immediately slammed together and she snapped, “What the hell are you doing here?”
At this, I half expected to turn and find Vaughn standing in the hallway but was surprised to find an older, very distinguished-looking gentleman. He was tall, fit, and had strong facial features. He was dressed immaculately in a three-piece suit.
Cold, dark eyes narrowed on Bailey. “Do you speak to all your guests like that?”
“No, but then, my guests are not Ian Devlin.” She huffed and rounded the desk to stride over to him. “That was my roundabout way of saying get out.”
He gave her a blank, cold look. “I’m not here for you. I’ve come to speak to Dr. Huntington.”
I’d been so busy studying the villain I had heard all about, but had yet to meet, that I was shocked out of a daze at him saying my name.
“What do you need from Jess?” Bailey got all mother hen on me.
“That’s a matter for Dr. Huntington and me only.”
“I don’t—”
“Bailey, it’s fine,” I interrupted, striding over to him. “Whatever you have to say, just say it.”
Something smug entered his expression. “Believe me, Dr. Huntington, you’ll want to discuss this in private.” He gestured to the front door. “Take a walk with me.”
“Don’t, Jess.”
But I was curious and more than a little worried that I’d caught the attention of this man. And I didn’t like the look in his eyes.
“It’s fine. I’ll be right back.” I squeezed her shoulder, ignoring the concerned look on her face.
Following Ian Devlin outside and onto the boardwalk, I didn’t like the feeling I got off this guy. He might look distinguished and well coiffed, but there was a slickness about him, and something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it was just because my friends had filled my head with stories about him, but this guy immediately rubbed me the wrong way. I just wanted out of his presence. “Well?”
He moved over to the railing to look out over the beach. “Do you like it here, Dr. Huntington?”
“If I didn’t, staying was asinine.”
He flicked me an unimpressed look. “May we continue without the immature smart-ass comments?”
I huffed, “Only if we may continue without all the cloak-and-dagger crap. Get to the point, Mr. Devlin. What do you want?”
In answer he pulled out a piece of paper from inside his waistcoat. He handed it to me.
Bemused, I took it; and when I unfolded it, it felt as if the boards beneath my feet had suddenly given way.
Blood rushed in my ears and I couldn’t quite catch my breath.
“I have your attention. Good.”
I looked up from the paper, feeling it tremble in my shaking hands. “How? How did you get this? This was sealed by the courts.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Money goes a long way in this world.”
No. No. NO!
The worst thing about myself, the one thing I didn’t want anyone to know, the thing I couldn’t even tell the best man I’d ever met, and this son of a bitch knew it.
I started to tremble, visibly, and I hated that this asshole could see what he’d done to me.
“Have you told anyone?” My voice shook, too.
“Why would I do something that’s not in my own best interests?”
Ugly understanding dawned. “What do you want?”
The muscle in his jaw ticked for a moment, his eyes hardening. “I’m sure you’ve heard I lost out on the Beckwith property.”
I nodded stiffly, my thoughts all over the place, as I imagined him telling Cooper, telling Bailey, telling everyone and ruining my new life here.
“As you can imagine, I’m getting a little frustrated. But then I came across this little nugget”—he tapped the record in my hand—“and thought, How can this benefit me?”
“And how can it?”
He turned to face me fully. “I want Cooper’s pub and he won’t sell. And it looked like he never would . . . but everyone is all atwitter over how cuckoo he is for Dr. Jessica Huntington.” He gave me a shark’s smile. “The wonderful thing about small-town life, Doctor: everyone knows everyone’s business. And what everyone knows is that Cooper Lawson is in love. And he’d do anything for the people he loves.”
Disbelief struck me dumb.
Was he actually suggesting what I thought he was suggesting?
Was this blackmail?
“You’re going to convince him to sell that bar to me.”
My breath finally gusted out of me. “Are you nuts? This isn’t an episode of Dynasty, Mr. Devlin. This won’t work. Cooper would never give up his bar. Not even for me.”
“A man like Cooper will do it if you need him to. Tell him you’re in serious financial trouble. You do have student debt and I doubt working for Miss Hartwell is putting much of a dent in that debt. Or tell him you have an ill family member who needs the medical bills paid. Say whatever you need to. Stick to those kinds of things, though. Cooper likes to be a hero. He can’t help himself. Press that hero button and he’ll sell his bar. I’ll swoop in and make him a very generous offer. That’s a promise.”