What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(48)
“Was she upset?” Lolly was no dummy. She knew what it meant that her father was staying at her house, and teenagers could be real prigs as far as the sexual behavior of their parents was concerned.
Jase kissed the back of Laurel’s neck and smoothed his hands down her hips. “She wants you to come back to North Plano with me.”
“She doesn’t still think I’m her mother, does she?”
“No, you pretty much cleared that up, but she’s got a crush on you—just like I do.”
Laurel smiled and snuggled her buttocks against him, but before they could get anything going, the phone rang again. Jase released her and morphed back into Mr. Tycoon.
Half an hour later, he glanced at his watch and announced he needed to visit the bank before it closed. “I assume First Bosque Bend National is still downtown?”
She nodded. “It’ll be there forever.”
“I need to talk to a banker, someone who knows the local scene.” He stood up. “Gotta go grab a sports jacket and head over there.”
Laurel bit her lip. “Dave is a vice president at First. He moved up when Consolidated bought it. His new wife’s father is a big stockholder.”
Jase’s nostrils flared. “This is about business and growth potential, not about old times.”
And not, she prayed, about me.
Or Daddy.
*
His head buzzing with speculation, Jase swung into traffic and headed to town, which translated to six blocks farther down Austin Avenue.
Laurel had seemed worried about him running into her ex. Was she afraid Dave would say something derogatory about her? Maybe tell Jase why they’d divorced?
Why had the marriage gone bad? Laurel wasn’t the type to play around—but neither was Dave. More likely, the money had run out. In fact, maybe Dave had somehow caused the money to run out. Maybe he’d spent all of Laurel’s inheritance, then ditched her. But that didn’t make sense—Dave was an opportunist, not a high roller.
The light in front of him turned red and Jase braked to an easy stop. Looking around, he noticed that a medical facility was being constructed on the big corner lot where the farmers’ market used to be. Yeah, Bosque Bend was definitely on the move.
A redheaded child in the car next to him caught his eye, reminding him of Sarah Bridges’s visit earlier in the day, just before Laurel got back to the house.
No, not Sarah Bridges anymore—Sarah Edelman. It was hard to imagine her settled down and with children. She’d always been a real live wire.
He mulled over their strange conversation. Why had Sarah acted so oddly, asking about Laurel’s welfare, yet not wanting him to tell Laurel? Did it have anything to do with that constant shadow that seemed to be lurking behind Laurel’s calm gray gaze? With that odd reticence whenever he brought up her father’s name? What was the big secret? He’d told Laurel everything there was to know about himself—his father, Lolly, Marguerite—yet she didn’t trust him enough to tell him what was bugging her. What was so horrible that she had to hide it from him?
He snorted. Goddamn. Given his background, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t accept. Had she killed someone? Robbed a bank? He exhaled on a slight laugh.
Nope. Given the obvious state of her finances, that one was out.
The pickup behind him honked, and Jase realized the light had changed. Stepping on the accelerator, he cleared the intersection and settled into a sedate thirty miles per hour.
His mind focused on the business at hand as he neared First National. He hoped he’d be able to deal with Dave in a straightforward way. They’d never had much of a relationship off the field, but he’d always seemed genial enough—sort of low-key, actually.
He circled the block to scope out the lay of the land, parking in a suddenly available space right out front. First National was no longer the only show in town, he knew, but it was the biggest, and thus the one best suited to his purposes. He remained in the car a few minutes longer, studying the scene. Apparently the hookup with Consolidated had been beneficial. First National’s marble-columned facade had expanded to take in what used to be a hardware store next door, and, from what he could tell, the building’s two upper floors now housed bank offices instead of law firms and insurance agencies.
He grabbed his white Stetson from the seat beside him. Did he dare invade the sanctum sanctorum of Bosque Bend enterprise? Times change, and memories fade, he reminded himself. Besides, money talks, and that’s one thing he had plenty of. He caressed the soft leather upholstery of his top-of-the-line Cadillac as he slid out of the car and affected an easy, confident stride as he walked up the steps into the bank.
Never let ’em see you sweat.
The lobby was a far cry from the dark, cramped stronghold where he used to cash checks from his lawn-mowing customers. Sunshine poured in through a skylight in the center of the room, and loan applicants now awaited their turns in the comfort of deep-cushioned couches instead of a row of penitent, straight-backed wooden chairs. Old Mrs. Maguire, who used to reign supreme over the information desk and would watch him like a hawk when he walked through the revolving door, had been replaced by a thirtyish blonde who looked at his business card and told him how to get to the appropriate office.
“Welcome to Bosque Bend,” she added in a throaty tone that reminded him of Marguerite. “If you’d like to see what the town has to offer, I’m free for the evening.”