Working Man - Melanie Schuster Mills & Boon Kimani

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dropped her hands and found her voice. “Dakota Phillips happens to be the greatest writer of true crime stories in the country, Uncle Nick. She’s brilliant. She’s beyond brilliant, she’s a true genius! She’s won all kinds of awards and prizes and she even got a genius grant from the National Endowment of the Arts when she was like, nineteen or something. All of her books are on the New York Times bestseller list and three of them have been made into movies. She’s been nominated for an Oscar for an original screenplay and she even has a Pulitzer Prize. And I destroyed her car,” Ebony moaned. “She’s the whole reason I decided to major in journalism and I almost killed the woman!”

      Nick looked deeply interested in her babbling. “A Pulitzer Prize, huh? Is that anything like a Heisman Trophy?” he asked innocently.

      Ebony made a sound of impatience. “Aww, quit playin’! You know what a Pulitzer is, Uncle Nick. Don’t act you don’t have a clue. I’m so embarrassed I could die. I’ve worshipped her for years and what’s the first thing I do when I get close enough to tell her how much I admire her work? I crash into her like a class-A fool.”

      “Who crashed what? Did you do something to my truck?” A deep voice came from the dining room, followed by a man who looked a lot like Nick. It was his brother Paul, and the family resemblance was unmistakable. They were both tall, although Nick had about two inches on Paul. They were both light brown, although Nick was a good bit lighter. They both had curly black hair and chiseled features, but Nick had a deep cleft in his chin that Paul was lacking. And they both had gorgeous eyes, but Paul’s were hazel while Nick’s were green, a true, clear green that was mesmerizing, according to the many women who were attracted to him.

      Paul looked from his daughter to his brother and back again, repeating his question. “Did you wreck my truck?”

      “Daddy, your precious truck is in the garage. Uncle Nick was teaching me to drive his stick and I crashed into the back of this poor woman’s car and now my life is ruined.”

      “Oh. Did you wreck his Escalade?” Paul asked with interest.

      Nick was laughing at the two of them. Paul was always so calm and grounded and his wife and oldest daughter were so dramatic it was a wonder there was ever any peace in the house, but they all managed to get along just fine. “Man, it was a little bump on the fender but the lady’s taillight got broken and there’s a dent in the back. Ebony’s throwing a fit because it seems like the woman is some big-time writer that she has a thing for. She’s acting like it’s the end of the world for no reason,” he said with amusement.

      Paul studied his younger brother for a moment. “She must be fine or you wouldn’t be grinning like that.”

      Nick tried again to look innocent. “She’s attractive,” he said with a shrug.

      Ebony heard her mother’s voice and went to get some real sympathy, seeing that she was getting nowhere with her two favorite men. As she left the room muttering, Paul raised an eyebrow at Nick.

      “Okay, man, she’s fine as hell,” he admitted.

      “Big girl?” Paul queried.

      “Tall, thick, big juicy booty and a hot temper,” Nick answered. “And new in town. Car has D.C. plates on it.”

      “You plan to see her again?”

      Nick’s eyes softened as he thought about how hot and sexy she’d looked, all rumpled and angry. “I surely do. And as soon as possible.”

      At that precise moment, Dakota was standing in the living room of her newly refurbished townhouse. She was staring around the place she had expected to call home and she wasn’t happy. Cha-Cha was running around their new abode emitting squeaks of discovery as she explored, but Dakota couldn’t move. This wasn’t the house she’d contracted for, the one for which she’d paid. This place was a mess.

      There was still drywall in the kitchen, the floors hadn’t been sanded and finished in the honey oak she’d specified, the countertops and glass-fronted cupboards weren’t the quality she’d selected and everywhere she had looked there was evidence of shoddy workmanship. She was so angry she was past tears. She was at the point where she wanted to call her father and ask to borrow one of his hunting rifles, just for a little while. She wanted to find the sleazy developer who’d taken her for a ride and put a few bullets in him where they’d do the most good.

      She jumped as her cell phone went off and then frowned deeply as she saw who the caller was. It was her brother Johnny and she had a few words for him.

      “So how do you like your new home? Did Bernard do a great job or what?” he asked in a jovial voice.

      “Your friend Bernard is a liar and a crook. This place is a mess and I hate it almost as much as I hate you at the moment. You told me this guy was trustworthy and reliable, which is why I went into this deal sight unseen. You told me that he was a good friend of yours as well as being your frat brother and that he’d do an excellent job. And you told me that you’d be checking in with him every time you were in Chicago on business. Well, if you were checking in with him you must have been blindfolded each and every time because anybody with an iota of common sense could see that this place is a dump,” she said hotly.

      “Obviously, you never set foot in the place, which means that you lied to me. If you didn’t want to be bothered with me why didn’t you say so? I trusted you, which meant I trusted your sorry friend Bernard Jackson. I can’t believe you got me hooked up with someone who’s obviously a con artist. How could you do this to me, you…you…”

      “Hold on, Dakota, hold it right there,” Johnny said hastily. “Are you trying to tell me that Bernard didn’t deliver what he promised? I thought he was sending you pictures of his progress and he had a virtual tour of the house online so you could see how things were going,” he said in a puzzled voice.

      “And I thought I could trust you,” she returned angrily. “It seems we were both wrong. He was sending me pictures all right, and there was a nice little virtual tour that I monitored every day. But I don’t know where he got the pictures from and I sure don’t know what that tour was all about because what he was showing me wasn’t this dump. And if you’d done what you promised me you’d do, you would have seen it for yourself. Now the jerk won’t answer my phone calls. I went to the office at the address he gave me and it’s locked up. What kind of friends do you have, Johnny? And how could you get me involved with a sleazeball like him? When I think of the money I spent on this place…” Her voice finally died off from sheer exhaustion and rage, and she stopped talking because she couldn’t trust herself to speak.

      If she hadn’t been so furious she would have realized how upset her brother was at her words, but she was way beyond listening at that point. It didn’t stop Johnny from trying to explain, though.

      “Dakota, I apologize, I really do. Bernard is my fraternity brother and I thought I knew him pretty well, but it wasn’t like we’re best friends or anything. I really was in Chicago a few times for business, and each time I came I made an appointment to see him and to take a look at your place, but every time something came up and he couldn’t make it. I admit, that alone should have made me more suspicious, but I would never have expected him to pull a stunt like this. And when I get hold of his ass he’ll be sorry he ever tried to mess over my sister, you can believe that.”

      Dakota was fighting back angry tears and didn’t bother to answer him. He continued to probe, though, asking Dakota when she had actually talked to him last, and getting more pertinent information that he hoped would lead to the man’s whereabouts. “Look, Cookie,” he said comfortingly, “I’ll find the buzzard if it’s the last thing I do. I don’t know what the hell made him think he could con my sister, but I’ll take care of him, don’t even worry about it.”

      Hearing him use her childhood nickname almost did her in, but Dakota was no pushover. “Johnny, I appreciate your concern, but you don’t have to get involved. You’ve done more than enough,” she said dryly. “I’m not an investigative reporter for nothing. If I can track down a killer who’s been hiding out

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