Under The Millionaire’s Influence
Catherine Mann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Jasen:

Our newest child, but also our oldest. We love you, son!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Coming Next Month

One

Starr Cimino vowed to invest in new pjs, even though her love life was currently on life support.

Facing her arch nemesis in a threadbare Beachcombers Restaurant T-shirt before she’d even had her morning coffee just sucked. So much for armor to gird her five-foot stature.

Her steely spine and some wit would have to suffice. She braced her back and stood down the strong and vital force filling the door of her seaside carriage house in Charleston, South Carolina.

She didn’t doubt her ability to deck anyone who threatened her. She’d learned young to take control of her life after all her crook parents had forced her to endure. But it just wasn’t cool to take out a seventy-eight-year-old lady in a housedress. The mother of the man to whom she’d given her heart and virginity.

At least she could reclaim her heart.

Swiping the sandy sleep from her eyes, Starr forced a smile taught to her by her foster mother, “Aunt” Libby. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Hamilton-Reis?”

Other than toss some blue food coloring into her fish pond so the old bat’s prize guppies would look more like a certain current cartoon fish. Okay, so Aunt Libby’s training hadn’t totally saturated Starr’s conscience as a teen.

Grudges. Man they hurt the soul and she really should get over it, but this lady had treated her worse than the scum on her fish pond for right around seventeen years.

And God forbid Starr should date the woman’s precious heir.

So Starr and David had met behind sand dunes and shimmied up the rose terrace to climb into his bedroom window during their teenage romance that had swelled and broken her heart in one tumultuous year.

“What do I want?” Alice Hamilton-Reis’s voice rose and fell along with the rush of the waves along the shore. “I want your relatives to move their RVs out of my neighbor’s view.”

Her family? Here?

Prickles spread over her as she looked around and found that, yes, there were three RVs parked right on the grass between the Hamilton-Reis’s historical plantation house and Starr’s carriage house. The same RVs she’d ridden in before luck and an efficient social worker had intervened.

Crap.

She shoved her hands through her snarled mess of hair, as if that might somehow restore order to her rapidly tangling world. No luck. In fact…the worst luck sauntered into view with broad shoulders and serious temptation.

David. Her attention skipped off those RVs pronto.

He took the lengthy porch steps of his family’s Southern antebellum mansion with the same confident strides he’d possessed even as a lanky teenager who’d sent her pulse skyrocketing. David made clothes look good, no question. He wore formal dark pants with loose hipped ease, a crisp white shirt contrasting against his jet-black hair and a tan that attested to time spent in the sun.

Her heart rate still doubled, but for another reason. Yes. Because of their history and how he’d so deeply bruised her tender feelings over ten years ago with his all-or-nothing ultimatums. He wanted her to give over her hard won control of her life, and heaven help her, he’d once truly tempted her. And when she’d seen him again a year ago, her willpower had been in the negative numbers. They’d landed in bed together in seconds flat. Then they’d found their clothes again, he’d stuck to his same, unflinching party line—pick up and follow him around the world, leave behind the only home she’d ever known. His way.

Not a chance.

She didn’t want to think overlong on the fact that she hadn’t been with anyone since then—thus her crummy lingerie and love life gasping for breath. She would hold strong this time, regardless of her body already tingling to life again.

Lord knew she had enough to think about dealing with her biological parents showing up—don’t look, don’t look, don’t look at those RVs yet—and David’s perfect-lineage mama staring her down.

David stopped on the bottom step and yet still he stood around the same height as the women on the porch, darn him. “Mother, you shouldn’t be outside in the morning damp air.” A hand towel draped around his neck attested his recent shave, yet he still looked totally calm and collected even though he’d obviously rushed out after his mother. “Your doctor said for you to keep your feet up until the new blood pressure medicine takes effect.”

Great. She had to be nice to the old bat or she ran the risk of David’s mother stroking out on the carriage house stairs.

Aunt Libby’s voice echoed through her head. Manners. Manners.

Jeez. She searched for something to say. Seagulls and cranes swooped for breakfast along the shore. Distant church bells from downtown Charleston chimed seven.

Starr tugged at the T-shirt and pretended she wore her favorite form-fitting jean dress and wedge heels with ties that wrapped around her ankles. She was good at the princess pretense. She’d perfected it as a gypsy child on the road. She refused to let herself be ashamed for things they had done—the things they’d insisted she do. She reminded herself she was a businesswoman now. She and her two foster sisters had turned Aunt Libby’s mansion into Beachcombers—an up-and-coming restaurant.

She sidestepped cranky Alice and faced her old lover who looked too darn good for this early in the morning, his dark hair glistening with water from a recent shower. Saints save her from her vivid imagination. “Hello, David, your mother and I were just discussing a better parking place for my, uh…” She couldn’t bring herself to use the word family.

They’d given up that right when they’d left her in the foster child system for years on end. Doing nothing to bring her home, yet doing nothing to cut her loose for adoption.

Mrs. Hamilton-Reis turned to cling to her son’s arm as if suddenly weak. “We need to get those recreational vehicles situated elsewhere. Surely it would be better for her business if they were over there on the beach rather than in plain view of her restaurant.”

Of course his mother always put a better spin on things when he was around…not that she could really think much about his dear old ma when he was moving closer by the second and saturating Starr’s senses.

Now that he was closer, she could see the monogram on the hand towel draped around his neck. The tangy scent of his aftershave wafted up the steps to tease her senses along with the salty scent of the ocean breeze. All of which stole her self-control much like waves stole sand from the shore.

And darn him, the way his eyes heated over her, it didn’t matter what she wore.

Starr turned to Mrs. Hamilton-Reis, a hefty reminder of why she needed to keep her distance from David. “I’ll talk to them about parking closer to the beach where the lawn’s already patchy.”

David’s mother surveyed the lawn. “That’ll be much better for business, my dear.” Alice patted her son’s arm. “Thank you for worrying about me. I’ll be having breakfast on the veranda with my feet up. It would be lovely if you could join me.”

He nodded. “I’ll be in shortly.”

The woman who’d once never passed up an opportunity to tell Starr she shouldn’t hold David back from pursuing his dreams pinched a smile as she started her pivot away. “I’m glad we could work this out, dear.”

Starr scrunched her eyes closed with a sigh. Still the tequila sunrise bled through her lids to sparkle through her brain. Or was that all the emotion bubbling through her?

David. Her parents. Alice Hamilton-Reis. All at once. Too much.

She’d forgotten how the woman would speak nicely to her whenever David was actually around. Not that she’d ever been outright mean to Starr, just coolly disapproving until icicles formed in the spiral curls of Starr’s hair.

She shook free the insecurities of her youth and opened her eyes. Yep, David was still here and dear old mom was gone. Time to deal. Fast. Before the RV crew woke up and she had her hands more than full of frustration…and pain, a little voice whispered.

No. She was an adult, a businesswoman who currently had a hunky, tempting piece of her past standing on her porch. “So, you’re back from…wherever it is you traveled this time.”

Even though his inheritance enabled him to sit back and never work if he chose, David still served as a civilian employee for the air force’s OSI—Office of Special Investigations. He traveled the globe, slipping in and out of countries often undetected, just as he’d always planned during their teenage years, dreaming on a beach blanket under the stars. Even back then he’d wanted her to come along when the mission permitted and even then her root-seeking heart had quaked.

Taking the rest of the steps to join her, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and hitched one shoulder against her porch post, close. So close. “I was in Greece working on a NATO counterterrorism task force.”

“Wow, you can actually share what you’re doing. That’s rare.” How many times had she wondered? Too many for her comfort level. “It sounds really awesome.”

He stayed modestly—or covertly—quiet. The distant sound of waves and the breakfast crowd heading into the restaurant next door faded away as she couldn’t help but focus on him.

Her babbling mouth ran away from her. “I imagine this is one of those missions you always talked about me coming along with you.”

David cocked a brow, his head tipping to the side even if he still stayed quiet. Embarrassment heated through her with a need to fill the silence. God, he could still undo her thoughts as easily as he’d once undone her bikini top.

“But we both know that’s old ground. Like I really could have picked up and gone to Greece now anyhow. I have a business to run, obligations to my business partners, my sisters. Still it sounds really exotic.”

Her foster sister Claire would have relished experiencing the exotic foods. They served mostly down-home Southern cuisine at Beachcombers, but Claire still enjoyed adding something a little different every now and again.

Once upon a dream, Starr had contemplated taking a trip or two to study the great artists of the world. Except, bottom line, she didn’t want to spend her entire life on the road. She’d done enough of that for the first ten years of her life with her gypsy family.

Now, she thrived on the security of waking up to the same gorgeous ocean sunrise every morning. Her little carriage house behind Beachcombers might not be much, but it was hers. A home.

“Exotic?” he quipped. “Time was you thought that sounded too far from home.”

Suddenly she couldn’t hold onto the fantasy any longer. No princess clothes or armor. Nothing but old pain and a worn out T-shirt. “Do we really want to walk down that road again today, David?”

He plucked at the shoulder of her shirt and pulled off a crumpled bit of a tissue-paper flower. Great. The fates must be plotting against her. Not only did she look like crap, but she also had arts-and-crafts bits and pieces stuck to her like a third grader.

David held up the silvery flower she’d been using to make personalized wrapping bags for wedding-shower party favor gifts for her restaurant. One corner of his mouth kicked into that confident smile that never failed to flip her stomach into somersaults to rival her circus gypsy cousins’ talents. David tucked the crackly bloom behind her ear.

His knuckles skimmed her cheek in a touch so soft but undoubtedly deliberate. She knew him. Knew his touch well from their high-school romance.

And yes, from their brief time together a year ago when she’d been unable to resist him. Heaven help her, she couldn’t spend the rest of her life jumping into bed—or against a wall—with David Reis every time he breezed through the United States.

Starr stepped back. “I’ll keep my eyes open for your mother. Leave your cell-phone number and I’ll call if I see her wearing herself out.”

“Thank you.”

She thought about asking for more details about his mother’s health, even sympathizing since it was his mother after all, but then realized that would keep him on her porch longer. And when they spent any lengthy amount of time together, they ended up arguing and he ended up kissing her silent. She mentally kicked herself and mumbled, “God, we’re both such idiots.”

He cocked an arrogant brow. “What was that?”

“We both need to get to work.” She backed up to grip her door. “I really need to get dressed, so…”

“Drag my sorry ass off your porch.”

A laugh bubbled before she could squelch it. She so enjoyed his dry sense of humor. She couldn’t resist it, either. “You said it, not me.”

Starr slid away and sagged against the door inside her carriage house filled to the brim with her arts-and-crafts supplies. Victorian eclectic. Hers.

She exhaled long and hard.

She’d held strong, gotten her way. She was alone in her little house. She’d kept her distance from David. And she’d managed to shoo him away before her folks made their morning showing.

Thank you, Aunt Libby, for putting in a good word with the Man upstairs on that one.

But she couldn’t count on Aunt Libby holding back the tide forever. With her luck, her family would set up Porta Pottis and charge folks for using them. Her ma and da never missed a chance to make a buck, and if they could land a dollar without working, all the better.

Ma and Da. Why she couldn’t distance herself enough to call them Gita and Frederick instead, she didn’t know. She wanted Aunt Libby, her foster mother, Mom.

All a moot point and waste of time to consider at the moment. Gather up those scattered thoughts before David had a chance to slip past her defenses.

But she couldn’t understand why the fates had been so vengeful as to send those campers full of ex-family, who’d rejected her, used her, stolen from her, at the very same moment that David had chosen to make one of his rare appearances in Charleston.

Two

“The way you wield that hot glue gun, it’s no wonder you sleep alone. Men must be hitting the floor in terror.”

Claire’s words rattled around in Starr’s head with a little too much accuracy. Nothing like a sister—even the foster sort—to put you in your place. Starr spread her gift bags, glitter and shells along the kitchen butcher block as she put together the tissue paper. At least the RV crew had decided to sleep in today and give her a couple extra hours to gather her thoughts after seeing David had rocked her balance.

She simply wanted a half hour of peace to pull herself together. Tough to find with such a perfect contrasting view of the three rickety RVs and David’s Lexus right there, reminding her of so many painful moments in her past.

But damn it, she would put a time stamp on that segment of her life because her days of romance with David had expired long ago.

She stared out the open window at the three parked vehicles. Her sister worked by her side decorating a cake, while two part-time help gals took care of the remaining breakfast crowd. The gentle ocean breeze ruffling the lace curtains may have cooled the steamy kitchen, but it did nothing to cool the steam curling inside her after a simple encounter with David.

She might well need more than a half hour.

Starr globbed another dollop of oozing glue on the magenta bag. “I imagine you’ve waited a whole year for that payback line just because I teased you about the way you whacked around a swizzle stick when you were mad at Vic.”

Her sister had fought hard against falling in love, even contemplating single motherhood, until finally the burly veterinarian had won her over.

Earth-mother-type Claire swooped her cake-frosting spatula through the air. “Aha! So you are mad at a man.”

Had she really just jumped into that net because she was busy thinking of her sister’s tangled love life from last year? “Don’t you have a baby to nurse?”

The multicolored sling around Claire’s neck held the infant snuggled securely to her chest. “Little Libby is snoozing away, happy and fully fed.”

No surprise Claire managed yet another addition to her life with ease. Her unflappable, organized sister always had. Even her silky blond hair cooperated to make a smooth look along with the clean lines of her conservative clothes. Claire would never put together mismatched designer-fashion finds Starr liked to scoop up at the Salvation Army. But then Starr couldn’t quite stifle the colors in her wardrobe any more than she could quiet her bright artwork.

Claire gently patted her baby girl’s bottom. Motherhood suited her well. She’d obviously taken on all the traits of their foster mother.

Aunt Libby had been an eccentric—amazing—woman. Having lost her fiancé in the Korean War, she’d never married, instead devoting her life to taking in foster daughters. Countless foster girls had channeled through her antebellum home, money in short supply, love in abundance. Most had either returned to their homes or found new adoptive parents. All but three had left—herself, Claire and Ashley, who’d just graduated from college with her accounting degree. Her graduation being the reason for their flurry of preparations today, to put together a surprise party.

Their shy younger sister would work herself into a tizz if she had time to think of an impending celebration, so they’d opted for low-key festivities as a surprise party. Ashley deserved to have her accomplishments lauded. A whiz kid, she’d been keeping the Beachcombers’ books since the doors had opened two years ago.

Starr brandished her hot glue gun, which of course made her think of all the times she’d seen David’s gun tucked in a shoulder harness. So often she thought of the glamour of his world travel, but the danger sent a sliver of…something, something she didn’t want to consider overlong because it traveled up her spine to sting her eyes. “Okay, so I’m armed and fearsome. Why does that have anything to do with a man?”

Claire brandished her own decorator gun, swirling Congratulations, Ashley across the cake festooned with pink roses. “It’s the way you’re wielding it, big hot globs that don’t allow for anything to slip away.”

So? “And that tells you what?”

“The same thing you’ve always wanted where David Reis is concerned.” Claire set her frosting aside and pinned her sister with her ever-wise older gaze. “You want to glue his wandering feet to the ground.”

“Or glue his arrogant mouth shut.” Now that called for a huge blob.

Claire tapped Starr’s toe with her flip-flop-shod foot. “But then he wouldn’t be as fun to kiss.”

Starr couldn’t help but shiver in agreement at that. “You’re a wicked woman.”

“I’ll plead the fifth.” She winked as she topped off another cabbage rose on the cake. “How long is he in town this time?”

“I didn’t ask.” But yeah, she wanted to know. Not wise.

“You’re kidding.”

“His mother was there at first, and then my, uh—” she swallowed hard “—relatives could have stepped out at any second.”

Claire’s hand fell on her shoulder. Her sister always did try to mother the world. “Speaking of which, why are they here?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Starr eased out from under the comforting hand that could too easily make her go all emotional when she needed to hold herself together more than ever. She had genetics working against her when it came to being overly dramatic. It was one of the things that used to drive David nuts. “I haven’t asked them yet, but I promise I’ll get to it right away. I won’t let them interfere with business.”

“I’m not concerned about that, honey, I’m worried about you.” She gripped Starr’s shoulders again and turned her back around. “I don’t want them to take advantage of you.”

God, the truth still hurt because undoubtedly they wouldn’t have shown up for any other reason. Bracing herself to hold on tight to her emotions, Starr wrapped her arms around her sister in an awkward hug, the snoozing baby between them.

Claire patted her back. “We’re a team, sister. Don’t ever forget it. You don’t have to take them on alone. Say the word and I’ll walk over with you.”

Sniffling in spite of her best intentions, Starr leaned back and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Thanks, but I’m a tough cookie in case you haven’t noticed. I have my killer glue gun, after all.” Bravado in place, she retrieved her gun and her resolve.

And darned if one of those RVs didn’t start moving with the first signs of life from inside, shock absorbers obviously having long ago given up the ghost.

Ghosts.

She could talk about bravery and guns and time stamps all she wanted, but it would take a lot of stamping to eradicate all the ghosts clamoring around in her head.

David slid his arms through his suit jacket on his way out the front door. He needed to report in and sign leave papers to take the time off to make sure all was well with his mother’s health.

And to figure out what the hell was going on with Starr’s family.

Speaking of Starr, the gorgeous spitfire came charging down the restaurant back steps now. He’d planned to have a “discussion” with her parents before she saw them, but apparently he hadn’t dressed fast enough. Now things would be more complicated. Par for the course around Starr since the first day he’d done a double take, realizing his impish neighbor had grown into a bombshell.

He should have had the conversation with her earlier, but the risk had seemed too high given they were both half-dressed. He’d been too aware of her in that whispery thin T-shirt while he’d stood there only halfway finished dressing himself. Too easily memories from a year ago slid through his mind, how she’d sat on the edge of the tub and watched him shave. Not long after, he’d lifted her onto the sink and plunged himself deep inside her, her body already damp and ready for him.

Hell.

Clothes didn’t seem to help much now since the wind played havoc with her gauzy sundress, plastering it to her body as she made her way across the lawn, sandals slapping her determination. He’d always enjoyed all that spunk and fire poured into the way they came together in bed.

They’d never had much luck resisting each other, another reason it was damn wise to meet out here on the lawn in open daylight rather than risk stepping into her carriage house. His leaving had hurt her last year. But she was the one who’d turned down his offer to try again. She could have come with him and he would have given her the world—shown her the world. Made love around the world.

But he had more pressing concerns than sex right now. Evicting Starr’s family topped his list. “Good morning, babe.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, her dress rustling around her legs, her mass of curls a swirl of motion, but then nothing about Starr ever stayed still. Well, except for the stubborn part of her that refused to leave this place.

Her toes curled in her shoes. Just that small motion stirred him because he knew. He affected her.

Then she turned, her eyes a sultry, dusky view that always sucker punched him. “Good morning to you, too. I see you’re ready for work now.”

Starr’s voice washed over him like a surprise wave from the shore. She’d always had that effect on him—the only woman who’d ever had the power to linger in his thoughts.

Except he couldn’t let her derail him now. “Actually, I’m heading over to give your family a wake-up call.”

“That’s where I’m going. They seem to be already moving about.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of wake-up.” He stepped between her and the RVs, determined those people wouldn’t hurt her any further.

“David, you don’t need to worry.” A sad smile strained her face as she swiped her windswept hair from her face. “Your mother and I have already spoken. I’m going to ask them to move off the grass and over to the beach.”

A beach three states over wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him. “That isn’t what I meant. They need to leave.”

“It isn’t your place to make that call.”

“You can’t actually want them to stay.”

“I’ll handle them.” Her chin tipped with a bravado he recognized from the day she’d arrived in the neighborhood, a grubby scrap of a kid with a mop of hair that likely hadn’t seen a brush in a week. “I always do.”

He resisted the urge to gather her in his arms, knowing full well she wouldn’t welcome the gesture. But he wasn’t backing down. “You don’t have to. I’ll take care of this today. Now.”

Her pretty lips went tight. “You don’t have to and in case you missed out on noticing, I didn’t ask for your help.”

She may have been standing there steely strong, but he remembered well the teen who’d cried all over his chest because of how much damage these people could do with even a token visit when they attempted to lure her into their world again.

“David?”

He snapped back to the present. “Yes?”

“Step aside, please.”

“No.” Not a damn chance.

“No? Who the hell do you think you are to tell me no?” Her amazing hair seemed to crackle and lift with the energy overflow, as if her short and willowy body couldn’t contain it all. “I realize you’re embarrassed to have them in your precious prestigious neighborhood, but this is my property and I will take care of the issue.”

He started to explain to her…then stopped. He didn’t want her softening because then he’d do something risky…like touch her.

“We can stand here and debate this all day, but you know me well and once I’ve made up my mind…” David began to say.

“You don’t budge.” She fondled a glue gun tucked halfway in her pocket. “It’s not an endearing quality, you know.”

Perhaps not, but it was one that would keep her safe.

Problem was, this woman was almost as stubborn as him. Almost.

So where did that leave him? Much more of this and he would have to do something like toss her over his shoulder and pass her off to her sister. Claire was the most logical woman he’d ever met. Surely he could garner an ally in her.

Starr stepped closer as if to brush past. His hands itched to touch her, even if only for a fireman’s hold that would no doubt inflame her. God, she was hot when her temper flared.

Her pupils dilated with an awareness that could well send them both dashing back to her place. They wouldn’t even have to get naked. They’d done it half-clothed often enough, coming together in a frenzy, too impatient to wait.

Then had come the slow, leisurely sex…

His breathing went ragged. His whole body tensed, muscles straining to be set loose and take this woman.

His cell phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. Damn.

It could only be work. He didn’t have anything else in his life. He usually lived for the thrill of his job, but right now the thrill of this woman…

Just damn.

Stepping back, he reached into his coat and pulled out his phone to check the number. It could wait until he got into his car.

He shoved his cell back into his coat. “Starr, none of this changes what needs to happen with your family.”

“And none of this changes the fact that my business, my life is not your problem.” Her stubborn jaw jutted.

Without question, he would have to carry her off the lawn and lock her in her house, not exactly legal.

And then it hit him. He had a better way to circle around the situation after all. His connections at work. Find something on her family, because his radar, honed from assignments around the world, blared that they were always up to something, something that would spell bad news for Starr.

He nodded. “Believe whatever you want for why I want them gone, but I’m not done here. I’ll be back to settle this later.” He had to add, “Be careful.”

David thumbed the remote control to his Lexus. The sooner he got to work, the sooner he could put out feelers about the Cimino family.

Just because Starr was hell-bent on her independence didn’t mean he would stand back and let anyone take advantage of her.

Starr plunked her butt down on the back step of the Beachcombers Restaurant and stared at the Cimino family RVs from the quiet retreat of the deep porch. After her confrontation with David, she needed a moment to collect herself before she could handle another face-to-face with anyone—especially the residents of those three crumbling RVs.

The front of the restaurant hummed with activity from brunch traffic transitioning into lunch. Ashley worked the gift shop while studying for her CPA exam. The back section, which they used as a bar, wouldn’t stir to life until suppertime and into the evening when the weekend’s live band cranked to life, so she soaked up the second’s silence to watch the shadows moving behind the gingham curtains covering the RV windows.

Her time to gather herself had come to an end.

The larger RV—the one towed behind a truck as opposed to the other two that were single units—rocked with walking bodies. Her stomach clenched. She’d seen her family only five times in the last seventeen years—this would make number six. And during each visit, they made their displeasure known when she hadn’t fallen into line by returning to the “traveler clan” fold.

Aunt Libby’s stolen silver flatware.

Mrs. Hamilton-Reis’s Dutch tulips smashed by RV wheels.

David’s keyed Mustang.

They knew how to hurt her most, through embarrassment. What would they do this time? Hard won control inched away.

A door swung wide. Ma filled the opening.

Gita had aged. The notion stabbed through Starr with a sympathy she didn’t want and outright feared because it made her vulnerable, seeing those streaks of gray in her hair, the wrinkles lining her mother’s face. Her ma still wore her hair long and curly like Starr, gathered in a ponytail, her jeans and shirt with fringe in constant motion, giving her a hummingbird air as she raced down the steps. “Good morning, sunshine.”

More like good afternoon, but Starr wasn’t going to start off the conversation by being contrary. “What brings all of you to the area?”

“Our baby girl of course,” her father answered, standing on the top step, stretching his arms over his head.

No denying her parentage. She’d inherited her mother’s hair, and her da’s face and slight stature, which gave her a clear view into their home on wheels. Over his shoulders she could see the standard assortment of purses. Not that her ma collected purses in the manner of most fashion-conscious PTA moms. Nah. Gita Cimino collected purses from PTA moms.

Currently visible—a black sequined bag with a cell-phone caddy dangling and an oversize brown leather bag with diapers sticking out and a couple of bottles tucked into pouches along the side. Starr’s heart squeezed as she thought about the poor young mother reporting her bag stolen while she jostled a hungry baby on her hip.

Gita and Frederick Cimino were a match made in hell.

The other two Cimino brothers and their wives had their own scams of choice. The older brother specialized in items bought in bulk on the Internet and sold door to door—magic sweepers, garbage disposals, dishes, vitamins, herbal remedies. You name it, Starr figured he’d scammed it.

The youngest brother specialized in out-of-court settlements—slipping on a sidewalk, breaking a tooth in a restaurant, the list went on. She’d been roped into those many a time as a child because an injured kid evoked major sympathy.

Was it any wonder she’d been so jaded when at ten years old she’d clutched the social worker’s hand and stood in front of Aunt Libby’s looming double doors?

“So hey there, Starr,” her mother called, making her way across the lawn. “No hug for your ma?”

“If you need one, then I’m over here.”

Her mother hesitated mid hummingbird buzz across the lawn and perched her hands on her hips. “Still carrying a grudge, I see.”

Starr stayed silent even though she wanted to speak. Nearly being killed by the woman after being stuck in the camper all day in the heat? Reasonable grudge material so far as she could tell.

While a very, very wise Frederick headed for a walk along the beach, Gita skimmed her way across the sandy lawn and took the Beachcomber steps more slowly. Starr could feel her skin tightening in fear of the hug…. Then Gita dropped to sit beside her, no fake semblance of familial affection, thank goodness, which showed an understanding of Starr’s position. In that moment, Starr forgave her a little—or at least eased up on some of the anger.

She hadn’t even known how much rage roiled inside her until she opened the tap to ease a cup free, almost like working an overfull keg at the bar. Could the rawness of her emotions be blamed on David’s return?

Might as well make conversation, and the obvious questions needed asking after all. Heaven knew she needed to deal with them before David came charging over like a bull on a rampage. “What time did y’all pull in last night?”

“Around 3:00 a.m.”

So she’d been deeply asleep by then, dead tired after closing up the restaurant. Still, she wondered how she’d missed the arrival of the caravan. It was ghostly spooky how they’d sneaked up on her. And David’s return, too. The cosmos was ganging up on her today. “You must have better mufflers these days. I didn’t even hear you.”

“Your uncle Benny picked up a few extra, dirt cheap off the Internet.” She stroked a seashell-encrusted stepping stone at the base of the stairs and by the covetous gleam in Gita’s eyes, Starr knew where to look if it turned up missing tomorrow.

“I should have guessed. He’s always got his eye out for those bulk bargains.” When she’d been around nine, she’d helped him hawk encyclopedias. No matter to Benny that they were a decade out of date.

“Of course you didn’t guess. You’re getting rusty since you’ve been away from the family for so long.” Gita shook her head and tutted, loosening a gray curl from the band. “It’s to be expected since you’re not with the family anymore.”

Implied guilt? She refused to accept it.

So why couldn’t she find her backbone? Time to rectify that now, as she’d told David she would. Not because she saw David’s mother peering around her heavy brocade curtains, but because Starr wanted to regain control of her business, of her life before she weakened and leaned on David again.

“Ma, you’ll need to tell the family to move the caravan over to the beach, so it’s not visible from the road.”

“Ah, we’re bad for business parking in the lot like that.” She nodded with surprising understanding and not a sign of censure. “Gives off the air of vagrants.”

She hadn’t expected it to be this easy or for her mother to be this blunt—or honest. “I don’t mean to be insulting.” She fished in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I’ve typed up a list of some beautiful waterside RV parks in the area that will accommodate your needs perfectly.”

Her fist clenched around the paper while she waited—prayed—that her mother would take the list and hit the road.

“Baby, I’m not insulted. I understand about doing whatever it takes to bring in the buck. We’ll get off your lawn and onto the beach over there. No worries or need to waste money on one of those parks. You’ve got a great view there and we’ll situate ourselves just right, now that we know the angle you want us to work. We’ll have vacationers stamped all over us by sundown.”

“Hey, Ma, wait—”

“Shhh. Just listen.” Gita slung her arm around Starr’s shoulders and pulled her in for that unwanted hug. “We can play roles well. We’ll even beef up business for your little artsy gift shop as a personal favor. You’ll see.”

Starr stiffened even as her arm automatically slid around Ma’s waist out of habit. Already she was falling back into old habits even though she’d told David not a half hour ago that she had a spine of steel. David. Why did all of her thoughts have to cycle back around to him?

This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wanted them out of sight. Actually, she wanted them gone before their con games and get-rich schemes caused trouble in town. Aside from the fact that she couldn’t condone their crimes, she also couldn’t bear these reminders of the gypsy child she’d been. A member of a traveler clan not worthy of David. How had the conversation shifted from having them out of sight to them poking their sticky fingers into her business?

The metaphorical beer keg exploded and she didn’t have a clue how to stop the spewing mess of her emotions.

Three

Standing in her parents’ RV doorway with stars glinting overhead at the end of one of those endless days, Starr passed the bags full of chicken wings and everything else she could think of to feed the gang supper. Hopefully this would keep them happily settled inside for the night.

Her aunt Essie—Uncle Benny’s wife—shuffled off the Styrofoam boxes of food to the mini counter by the sink, pushing aside a Crock-Pot.

“Come on in and join us,” Aunt Essie offered in that fake Bostonian accent she affected in an effort to claim she was a down-on-her-luck member of the Kennedy clan. She actually thought a few touch-football games on the lawn would convince people. “We would love the chance to hear all about your fancy new business.”

“Thanks, really, but I’ve already eaten….” Starr backed off the last step—into air. She’d been swooped off her feet by someone.

A man.

Her stomach lurched as her brain caught up to the fact that a muscular arm banded around her waist. The scent of salty ocean breeze, expensive soap and…exotic man wafted up to her nose.

One man in particular.

David hefted her closer against his chest, his breath hot and bearing a hint of toothpaste against her ear. “Good night, ma’am,” he said nodding to the crowd snatching containers of food. “Starr has other plans for supper this evening.”

Pivoting without waiting for a response, he charged toward the beach with long strides. Away from his house. From her house. Away from the people scattered along the dock pitching shells into the ocean or making out under the moonbeams.

“Care to clue me in on the other plans?” Starr wriggled in his grasp. He hitched her higher, up over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. “I’m not enjoying these plans.”

Well, perhaps she was a little interested and fired up as she grabbed hold of his waist to steady herself. Then she figured she shouldn’t let him know she’d given up quite so easily. She kicked her feet in midair and managed to land two good thunks that elicited a grunt if not a more satisfactory outright ouch. “David, put me down.”

“No.” He kept right on walking, hitching her higher.

She gritted her teeth against the image of her family crowding the door of the RV, Aunt Essie and Uncle Benny side by side, watching while others peered through the windows. Jeez. Couldn’t they just eat their supper, for heaven’s sake?

“This is not the way to win me over.” The macho show of force should have torqued her off, and it would have if she could think through the haze of shimmering hormones. The fine weave of his cotton button-down rubbed against her bargain-bin buy. She’d never been a clothes horse—more of a sales-rack and Goodwill-find shopper—but her tactile artist’s senses appreciated the decadent fabrics a man like David wore.

“Who said I wanted to win you over?” he asked without missing a step.

Now that landed an ouch to her ego—and momentarily stalled her kicking. “Will you please tell me where we’re going and why you’re doing this?”

“Soon.”

His timing. Always on his timetable, all or nothing.

At least she would get to know where he was taking her. And if she was lucky, she would get to push him into the ocean right afterward as payback for these he-man tactics that—damn him—really were kind of turning her on as she thought of other times he’d carried her over his shoulder only to toss her on a bed, or down onto the sand. Then he would make his way from the foot of the bed paying passionate attention to every inch of her body.

His feet thudded along the pier outside his house, abandoned. Apparently he planned to have their late night conversation out here.

Alone.

She was in trouble. Maybe she could jump in the ocean if she didn’t like the path of their chat.

David set her down slowly, sensually easing her body along his until he leaned her against the dock’s railing, the bulk of his height blocking out everything but him as he stood in front of her. His pants had stayed perfectly pressed even after a full day of work. His cotton shirt she’d so enjoyed rubbing against bore the slightest wrinkle from the press of her body against him when he’d carried her. Something about the faint wrinkle hinted at an intimacy that tingled through her. Her gaze fell to his arms, his sleeves rolled up, dark hair along his forearms. Strong arms.

Ohhh-kay. Time to shift her attention elsewhere. She looked up to his face. The moonlight cast shadows over his scowl.

She wanted to kiss that grumpy expression right off his face…except…oh, yeah…she was mad at him. God, she forgot that so easily when the sparks started snapping between them.

Starr bit her bottom lip to keep her words and kisses locked up tight. He’d started this. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging for an answer. She’d begged often enough around this man—in bed.

The pupils of his eyes widened. Could he read her thoughts now, too? Was he that good of an interrogator at work? Would she be allowed no secrets from him?

Finally, he blinked. She exhaled.

He tunneled his hand through her curls and cupped the back of her head. “Starr, babe, I thought we went over this earlier today. You’ve got to stay away from them.”

His touch muddled her thoughts when doggone it, she had a list of things, logical things, she wanted to say, such as this wasn’t his problem or any of his business, and instead she found herself babbling, “I’ve asked them to leave and go to an RV park. They refused. Short of siccing the cops on them, I don’t know what more I can do to move them.”

“Then call the police.” His fingers massaged hypnotic circles beyond anything her ma could have set up in one of her psychic scams. “Or evict them. They have no legal right to be here if you don’t want them around.”

Starr chewed on her lip again. She really should tell him to get his hand off her, but it felt so amazingly good and she’d never been particularly strong when it came to resisting his touch….

The very reason she had to stop this. Now. She gripped his wrist. “David. Stop.”

She held his gaze in a battle of wills, the heat of his skin radiating through even his rolled-up shirt cuff. Finally, his fingers slowed against her scalp and he swung his arm away, to his side. She released his wrist—and the gulp of air in her lungs.

He tugged at his tie as if in need of air, too. “Damn it, Starr, they steal from people, they prey on the weak and they’re undoubtedly trying to prey on you.”

“I’m too strong to let anything happen.” And she was stronger now, thanks to the self-confidence Aunt Libby had given her. “They’ll hang out for a few days, realize I don’t have any money to give them and then they’ll leave. Just like always.”

His eyes narrowed. “I can make it happen faster than that.”

Too easily she could let him deal with her problems, but she couldn’t tangle her life with his again. “No offense to your professional buddies, but don’t you think that has been tried again and again? It never works. They always get away with whatever illegal or squirrelly scam they’re running.”

Technically not true, she had to confess, at least to herself.

The police had caught up with them one time. The summer they had found ten-year-old Starr locked alone in a boiling hot RV for eight hours while her parents had gone door to door collecting money for yet another bogus charity. She’d nearly died of heatstroke. Five days in the hospital later, the child protective services in Charleston, South Carolina, had placed her with Aunt Libby as a foster child.

At first she’d been wary of Aunt Libby. Nobody could be that nice. Slowly, Aunt Libby’s maternal magic had worn through the years of neglect and abuse and Starr had begun to heal.

Then had come a new fear—that her family would try to take her back.

Thank God, Aunt Libby had always known just how to handle them on their rare visits to the seaside mansion, always with their hands out. And today, Starr followed Aunt Libby’s model of brushing them off.

“Starr?” David snapped his fingers in front of her face, his voice urgent, a hint impatient.

“What, David? Can we make this quick? I need to get back to work.” Actually back to Ashley’s party, due to start up in an hour.

“Has your family ever been reported to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Has anyone ever told me the specifics of their recent scams?” He thumped his chest.

“Well, uh, I guess technically not.” She knew he was darned amazing at his job. Heaven knew his mother bragged about his feats often enough. The woman hadn’t wanted the two of them together, yet she also hadn’t been able to resist rubbing Starr’s nose in what a “catch” she’d missed out on as he sent postcards from this country or that.

Little did his proud mama know those far flung travels only cemented Starr’s resolution she’d made the right choice. Her connection to Aunt Libby’s crumbling old antebellum home, this city, the sisters of her heart went deeper than David could understand.

“David, honestly, I’m not in their inner circle these days since they know I’m not into that kind of life. Even if I were in the know on their plans, they’re so darn slippery in the execution.”

“No one gets past me.”

His confidence was unmistakable.

She couldn’t resist jabbing. “Could that be because your enormous ego blocks the doorway?”

His mouth twitched. God, she loved his mouth, those perfectly full lips that brought such pleasure. His ability to laugh at himself made him all the more attractive.

“You always have been the only woman who wouldn’t put up with my crap.”

David smoothed his hand over her head again, his fingers tangling in her curls as he slid farther this time, down her neck, her back, free of her hair to palm her waist. He flattened her body to his in one of those masterful shows of gentle force that sent her senses tingling even as she longed to stomp on his foot.

He tucked his size-fourteen wingtip shoes gently over the toes of her feet in a preemptive move as if reading her thoughts. “You may be the only woman who doesn’t put up with my crap, but you’re also the only woman I can’t seem to forget.”

Darn him. He always did know what to say to melt her like the glue sticks in her arts-and-crafts gun. His foot slipped off her feet so she could arch on her toes to receive the kiss she could already sense coming.

No. She would hold strong against temptation.

She flattened her hands to his shoulders to stop his kiss, if not the embrace. Their chests pumped for air against each other in time with the gushing waves below the dock.

“I have to go,” Starr gasped. “We’re having a surprise graduation party for Ashley.”

His arms stayed banded around her, his chin resting on top of her head. He stood a full foot taller than her, yet their bodies always seemed to fit. “No way can she be that old already.”

“A lot of time has passed since you and I were together.” Years that had filled his body with muscles and her heart with resolve of what she needed from life.

But oh, how she couldn’t push away from this man just yet. She’d resisted the kiss. She could indulge in at least this much.

“A year.”

She’d meant since their teenage time together, since they’d had a relationship. “Does that really count? That was just—” incredible, heart-searing “—sex.”

That she could narrow down the experience to one word was truly an injustice to a weekend that had left her seeing stars for days.

“And your point is?”

“We don’t have anything else in common.” Her heart pinched tight at the minor lie. They’d had plans in common, once upon a dream ago. Of course, now they’d plotted their lives and their paths diverged. Still, pushing him away again was tougher than she’d expected. Damn it, why did this have to ache all over again? “I can’t see past your eyes anymore but I’ll be honest and lay it all out there and say you hurt me. And quite frankly, between you and the gypsy circus act parked on my lawn, I’ve reached my hurt quota for one lifetime.”

If only he would step back and give her space, she could breathe. And yet that traitorous part of her craved his touch. All the more reason she needed to make this break fast.

“Well, babe, while I’m not sure I like being lumped in with a bunch of crooks, I get your point.” His hands fell to rest on her shoulders, a warm and too-tempting weight that spurred her to press harder.

She inhaled a bracing breath full of his tantalizing scent. “So while I understand that you have to settle your mother’s health issues, you will stay clear of me while you’re here.” She tipped her chin toward each of his hands still cupping her shoulders. “I don’t want us to repeat past mistakes.”

This was tough enough—having him touch her, here where they’d once made love under an eiderdown comforter he’d dragged down to the beach behind a dune, back when the place had been less populated.

He raised his hands and backed away. “No past mistakes.”

Starr wrapped her arms around her waist to ward off a chill that shouldn’t have stood a chance on such a warm spring night. As she watched him lumber away, she let herself take one final moment to enjoy the view before she shook herself back into reality, a reality that would not include him.

Except wait. A dangerous realization tickled up her spine.

He may have said no past mistakes, but Special Agent Word Craftsman had never once agreed to stay away from her.

He was ticked off.

David stood on the outer edge of Ashley’s farewell party held in the Beachcombers Bar and watched as everyone celebrated the youngest sister’s summa cum laude success. His hand clutched around the gift he’d bought, his mind locked on his earlier conversation with Starr. He’d been pushed for time to find Ashley a gift but being here was important for more than one reason.

How could Starr just call it sex? He might be arrogant…

Might be? He could almost hear Starr’s throaty laughter in his ear.

Fine. He had his fair share of ego. He had to be confident in his job, believe in his decisions and forge ahead without hesitation because a moment’s flinch could get him killed. Or worse yet, cost someone else’s life.

But back to the original source of his frustration. It had never been “just sex” with him and Starr, otherwise they could have figured out how to be “just friends” a long time ago. Otherwise, he wouldn’t make a point of avoiding her during times he spent at his condo in downtown Charleston.

Sure, he was gone on assignment often, around the U.S. and overseas, but he spent more time in the city than she knew. Because he knew the more they saw each other, the more he risked hurting her again.

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