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Chapter Two
Three months ago…
The view from her father’s office window was magnificent, the San Francisco Bay darkly powerful as a storm rolled in from the north. Tasha’s brother, Drew, stood by the window, his arms folded over his chest, his face a tense mask as dark as the leaden sky behind him. Five years older than Tasha, Drew had the same black hair they’d inherited from their mother, his cut scrupulously short, executive style, like their father’s.
Seated in front of her father’s dominating oak desk was Eric Whitcomb III, a partner in Lakeside Ventures with her father and Drew. Tasha had been dating Eric for almost a year. He’d bowled her over the day her dad had introduced him—at thirty-nine, he was charming, handsome, and cultured. She felt like a character on Downton Abbey when she was with him. Wined and dined and desired by an English gentleman.
“Sit down, Natasha,” Reggie Summerfield ordered.
He was a loving father, but he was also a man who instantly commanded respect, so she put down her bag and sat on the sofa facing him. Even seated behind his massive desk, her father was an imposing man, with steel-gray hair and eyes so dark they were almost black.
She felt spotlighted in his gaze, the look in his eyes reminding her of all the times as a child that he had called her into his home office—wherever home had been at the time—and told her they had to move again. At least once a year, sometimes more, she’d had to leave her friends, her school, the teachers she loved, whatever clubs she’d joined. Poof—no warning, just gone. She’d lost count of the times she’d started over in a new place.
Her stomach was already clenched with that familiar anxiety as she asked, “Is something wrong?” She wasn’t a kid anymore, so it wasn’t her childhood fears of making new friends that held her in their grip this time. Instead, they were the worries of a daughter with an aging parent, one who meant the world to her. Was her father sick? Was that why Drew and Eric were both here? Could that be the reason her brother looked so grave and sad?
“We’re canceling the venture,” her father said. “You need to lie low for a while.” He hiked his tailor-made slacks and crossed his legs. For a man who never fidgeted, she could swear that was exactly what he was doing. “Take a trip like you’ve always wanted to do.”
Relief washed through her that he hadn’t sprung an illness on her. But what on earth was he talking about? “You’re shutting down Lakeside Ventures? Why would you do that?”
“We need to take down the website too,” he replied in lieu of answering her questions. He twirled a pen on his desk, another uncharacteristic movement. “And it would be best if you shut down your business as well.” He punctuated the words with an ominous drumming of his fingers on the chair arms.
“Shut down my business?” It was unthinkable—what would she tell her clients? She designed interactive websites as well as marketing collateral and had recently entered the field of interactive commercials. A year ago, her father had hired her to do the website for Lakeside Ventures. The enterprise was going to revolutionize timeshares, and she’d been so happy to be a part of it, because everything her father touched turned to gold. But now he wanted her to erase everything she’d worked for since she’d graduated from college five years ago? “Why would I do that? The website is good.” Really good, if she did say so herself.
“The website is fantastic, Tasha.” It was the first thing Drew had said, jumping to her defense. Drew leveled his piercing blue gaze on their father. “Tell her the truth, Dad.”
Seated across from her father, Eric snorted, shaking his head, looking anywhere but at her. He seemed a different man from the one who’d meticulously planned tomorrow night’s Valentine’s dinner, telling her he would be sending a limo to pick her up, promising her a present that would thrill her. She’d been imagining a small velvet box…and had secretly wondered if she was truly ready for everything Eric might offer.
Her father’s next words dashed all her contemplations. “We’re under investigation.”
He couldn’t have stunned her more if he’d dangled her outside the twentieth-floor window by her heels. “Investigation? By whom?” Nothing made sense, not from the moment she’d walked in and found the atmosphere inside her father’s office as dark and stormy as the view outside.
“The government. They say it’s fraud. We just haven’t gotten our funding yet, and a few antsy clients are questioning what we’re doing.”
The first Lakeside resort—to be followed by many more—was in Northern California. Tasha had wanted to visit the building site before now, but her brother had convinced her she was too busy working on the state-of-the-art website—and keeping up with her other client projects—to take time off just yet. Using the photos of the lake and surrounding woods that Drew and her father had supplied, along with the architects’ plans, she’d graphically created what the resort would look like, down to the interio
rs of the individual condos.
It was impossible that the government could question her father or her brother. It had to be a terrible error.
She would do everything in her power to stop this miscarriage of justice. Her father couldn’t give up everything he’d worked so hard for. And they definitely couldn’t do this to Drew. He’d been so proud when their dad asked him to join the family business after he’d graduated from high school—she still remembered their celebration.
“We can fix this, Dad,” she said, jumping off the couch, passion filling her to right this wrong. “We’ll give the investigators the plans. I’ll walk them through the website, show them how great it’s going to be once you’ve got all the funding. And when you take them up to the site where the condos are going to be built, you’ll be exonerated, and we can get back to building the resort.”
“Grow up, Tasha.” Eric’s harsh voice sliced through her pleas, cutting them to ribbons. “It’s time you faced a few facts.”
Over the past five minutes, more than one surprise had been tossed Tasha’s way. But the biggest one of all was the change in the man she’d been dating. Gone was the smooth, British accent, the cultured Eric-Whitcomb-the-Third façade now replaced by a flat American tone. Gone were the handsome features, erased by a hard mouth curled in an ugly sneer. “Your dad wants you to lie low, so just do what he says and get the hell out of town until this blows over.”
She stared at him, stunned. Eric had seemed so perfect, always so nice, so solicitous. But she remembered that he’d only once told her the name of his family’s so-called estate. And hadn’t they always gone out with her friends, rather than any of his?
It all made sense now. He wasn’t who he’d said he was. And he’d obviously duped her father and brother into some sort of disreputable scheme.
She came at him, ready to pounce, desperate to avenge her family. “What have you suckered my family into?”
Eric laughed, a cruel, grating sound. Which wouldn’t have stopped her from coming after him, had he not followed it up with, “Honey, your father brought me into the deal. We’ve worked a couple of cons together before—I’ve always been brilliant at playing the charming front man.” He smiled wide, like a shark, once more affecting his cultured British accent. “Downright convincing, if I do say so myself.”
Her brother cut across the animosity brimming between the two of them. “Shut up, Eric.”
Eric snarled like an angry jungle cat. “Then tell her she’d better get the hell out of Dodge before we’re all arrested. I don’t want her talking to anyone.”
