Flirting With Trouble Read online

  So now it was payback time

  He hovered grimly, expectantly, like a thundercloud about to burst open. “Don’t tell me you’re reneging?”

  “Ah, no,” she hedged. “Not exactly.”

  “You can’t expect Ivy to go on paying your rent.”

  “Of course not—”

  “And you can’t expect to run a tab with Della.”

  “But there is my book project,” she croaked feebly.

  “We covered this last night. You won’t be making money any time soon with a notebook full of romantic scribbles about a big-city girl wronged.”

  She set her chin stubbornly. “Still, you gotta admit, the plot’s compelling.”

  He leaned over, placing one hand on the bedpost, the other on the mattress. “Very lifelike. About those dues, Mandy,” Brett pressed. “Going to pay up or not?”

  It was always Amanda’s first impulse to decide how best to manipulate her sparring partner. But Brett was different from all the others. There was something masterful about the way he handled his affairs—handled her.

  “Okay, Doc. You win.”

  FLIRTING WITH TROUBLE

  Leandra Logan

  In Fond Memory of Marge Schoenecker

  The streetlight on the corner of Schletti and Nebraska burns a little dimmer

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Leandra Logan is an award-winning author of over thirty novels. A native of Minnesota, she enjoys writing stories with a midwestern flavor, full of realistic characters of all ages. She presently lives in the historic town of Stillwater with her husband and two children.

  Books by Leandra Logan

  HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

  559—SECRET AGENT DAD

  601—THE LAST BRIDESMAID

  732—FATHER FIGURE

  880—FAMILY: THE SECRET INGREDIENT

  960—WEDDING ROULETTE

  1016—FLIRITNG WITH TROUBLE

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter One

  It was the society gala of Amanda Pierpont’s dreams.

  Without question, her father had made good on his promise to host her a dazzling engagement party that would be well attended and well remembered.

  On this warm September Saturday evening, his Grand-view-on-Hudson mansion was teeming with the nation’s elite. Nearly two hundred of the Pierponts’ closest acquaintances graced the spacious ballroom overlooking the river, sipping champagne and grazing on a buffet laden with exotic delicacies.

  “Attention! I want your attention!” Lowell Pierpont’s commanding boom brought a swift, obedient hush over the room.

  Satisfied that all eyes were upon him, Lowell summoned Amanda to his side with the crook of a finger. With a toss of her long, butter-colored mane, the debutante skipped through the throng to her father’s left side. Always determined to be a standout, she’d chosen a shimmering white dress for the occasion that would play well off the glitter of the room’s chandeliers.

  She now leaned into her father, a mere pale slash against the big man in black. “You called, Daddy?”

  A small wave of knowing chuckles erupted as Amanda fluttered long lashes at Lowell. The pair had long been at odds over the debutante’s spoiled and spirited lifestyle.

  Lowell busied himself lighting a cigar and bristled when she set a creamy hand on his tuxedo lapel. “I want to welcome all of you to my home,” he continued. “Some have been here on other occasions, trying to squelch a story, promote a story, or just plain curry favor in general with this newspaper publisher. But no other visit, no other gathering, could possibly compare with this one.”

  “I second that!” Grinning, Amanda reached up to tweak his cheek. He stretched his neck out of bounds.

  “Twenty-six years old and my little girl has reached a new milestone. It’s been a tough road, raising her alone. Two full decades have passed since Pamela died, but I will always remember and admire her determined spirit. She started out as a cub reporter on the crime beat of the New York Times before finding a real home with me and my newspaper. No husband could have asked for a more sensational wife, no boss for a better journalist.” He took a thoughtful puff on his cigar. “We all know Amanda’s journalistic leanings are much fluffier than her mother’s—all her goals are, in fact. But what can a man expect from a daughter with a dramatic arts degree, if not some drama?” He shrugged in feigned resignation. “Just the same, she soon will make me the happiest man on earth.”

  Amanda winked at the crowd with a thumbs-up signal. “I finally did it,” she announced in a stage whisper.

  Lowell voice rose over hers. “In three short months she will be taking a vow of maturity. Her days of jetting ’round the world teasing princes, crashing political events and hounding movie stars all in the pretense of supplying readers of the Manhattan Monitor with juicy tidbits finally will be over.”

  “Oh, Daddy. I’m not planning to die. I’m only getting married.”

  He glared down at her through a cloud of his own cigar smoke. “And retiring from the Monitor.”

  “I didn’t realize…Surely my column would be missed…”

  If her father noticed the hurt and surprise in her tone, he didn’t let on. “Now it’s no secret that I’ve long wished for a suitable son-in-law. And it’s no secret that I’ve hit the jackpot in Trevor Sinclair. Come join us, Trev.”

  Amanda watched her handsome, golden haired fiancé take his cue and launch forward. Rather than joining her on the left as she expected, Trevor eased in on Lowell’s right. Another painful surprise, from the other man in her life.

  Lowell proceeded to clap Trevor on the back. “See? He’s the perfect right-hand man! From here on in I’ll be satisfied in knowing that one day our family newspaper will land in capable male hands. I’ll pass the publisher’s torch down to Trevor as my father handed it down to me and his father to him. So eat, drink and share my joy!”

  Lecture over. Amanda inched by her father and tugged at Trevor’s sleeve. Both men looked mildly disgruntled over the interruption.

  “Trevor, some friends from my spa have just arrived. Come meet them.”

  “Well…” Trevor deferred to Lowell.

  “Go on ahead, Trev. But that editor I’ve been courting from the Boston Globe just arrived, too. Part of your duties as my new executive assistant will be reeling in his kind.”

  Amanda pressed her lips together. “Oh, Daddy, Trevor can’t pander to you every minute of the day.”

  “Your father didn’t mean it like that, Amanda.”

  “Executive assistants assist,” Lowell said. “And a party like this should serve us on a professional level as well as a personal one.”

  “Engagements are supposed to be fun, though.” Amanda pulled Trevor over to her friends. Like the bride-to-be, the trio of women were in their twenties and remarkably lean from their spa workouts. They quickly surrounded her with well wishes, fussing over her white, exquisitely cut three-carat solitaire, flirting with her handsome fiancé.

  Amanda was always so damn lucky, they teased. Only the best for Amanda.

  Amanda assured them she certainly had no complaints.

  Three hours later, as had been their custom for years, father and daughter stood united to see off their guests, enduri
ng a wave of perfumed air kisses and firm handshakes.

  Ultimately, Lowell glanced around the empty foyer, impatient and gruff. “Where the hell are the Sinclairs?”

  Amanda rubbed her arms. Standing by the swinging front door had chilled her. “I haven’t spoken to Trevor privately since nine o’clock.”

  “Well, have you seen his parents? Thought I’d offer them a brandy before bed. The missus said something about bringing some old snapshots of Trevor’s high school football days back in Lincoln. Seems like as good a time as any to go over them.”

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “I believe I’ll pass on that treat, Dad, and go to bed.”

  “Sure, sure. If you run into Lydia and Ron, mention that I’ll be in my study.”

  “Their names are Linda and Roger.”

  “Make certain they know it’s the main study. Somehow, they keep getting lost here in the house. They must live in a cracker box back in Nebraska.”

  “Good night, Daddy.”

  Amanda climbed the broad, sweeping staircase and made the necessary journey through the second level’s maze of corridors. No sooner had she entered the private wing of bedrooms than she heard low voices.

  “There is nothing to cry about, Mom.”

  Trevor’s desperate plea caused Amanda to pause in mid-step near a partially closed door. With a stealthy turn, she peeked inside the room that had been allotted her future in-laws, Linda and Roger Sinclair. A single lamp glowed in the far corner, casting shadows. Worn luggage was stacked by the closet. Trevor sat on the old, impressive queen-size bed while his parents paced in front of him.

  “There’s plenty to cry about!”

  “Keep your voice down, Linda.”

  “Oh, Roger, as if any of those uppity people give a hang about us anyway. The hayseeds from Nebraska. That’s what I heard someone calling us—someone in a server’s uniform!” With an angry sniffle, Linda snatched a tissue off the nightstand. “As for the guests, they deliberately set out to make us feel like outsiders, acting shocked that we are Trevor’s parents, discussing business concerns we know nothing about.”

  Anxious at long last to meet the couple who had produced his precious protégé, Lowell had flown them in for a long-weekend getaway. When Amanda had first seen them in the airport terminal yesterday, the plump and stout Linda in her tight, blue-knit, two-piece and the thin Roger in his ill-fitting suit had made quite a startling contrast to the sophisticated Trevor. And to top it off, they had been extremely quiet during the ride back. The situation had left Amanda feeling rather awkward, responsible for filling the silence with chatter.

  Overall, with the party plans looming, Amanda hadn’t given the elder Sinclairs much more thought. She took the time to study them now, however. Certainly this family conference was meant to be private, but the deep emotion involved was most intriguing, since it was the sort completely foreign to her own upbringing.

  “Mom,” Trevor implored, “keep in mind that some of the most arrogant people on the face of the earth were in that ballroom munching on seafood.”

  “I’d liked to have tossed the lot of them into the sea myself!” Linda scoffed, blowing her nose. “Let the alligators get ’em.”

  “I think it’s more likely the sharks would get them in the sea, Linda.”

  She whirled on her husband, nearly swatting him with a flailing arm. “It wouldn’t matter either way with their thick skin.”

  Trevor’s voice grew firmer. “You had to see this coming. I went to Columbia. I’ve been working my way through the big newspapers. It was only a matter of time before I settled down with a society girl.”

  “But did you have to aim so high above our comfort level? The Manhattan Monitor is second in size only to the New York Times.”

  Trevor beamed. “Gee, I’m impressed you know that.”

  “Don’t be. Lowell Pierpont is a broken record on the subject.”

  “Look, son. The job is one thing. We can appreciate your achievement there. But did you have to involve yourself with the boss’s daughter, an heiress set to inherit millions—the entire newspaper?”

  “Probably not, Dad, but it’s making for a cozy arrangement.”

  Roger expelled a long breath. “We’ve tried hard to read between the lines of your most recent e-mails. All the glowing reports of your growing attachment to Lowell, the responsibilities he’s feeding you. You’ve been climbing to the top, fast.”

  “They’re hardly the letters of an infatuated man, however,” Linda complained. “Don’t be offended, but we can’t help worrying that you landed your last giant promotion at least in part because of your romance.”

  Trevor spoke carefully. “Let’s just say Lowell’s come to recognize my talents a whole lot sooner because of my interest in Amanda.”

  The elder Sinclairs gasped, as if their worst fears had been confirmed.

  “Do you ever think about Brittany Malone anymore? She is such a sweet girl.”

  Trevor was beginning to lose some of his polish. His head was tipping back and forth and his voice showed signs a midwestern twang similar to his parents’. “Naturally, I remember Brittany.”

  “Do you ever regret breaking it off with her?”

  “I don’t know. Seemed best when I headed for Columbia—”

  “Well, she’s still available. Cute, even at twenty-nine. Unlike the debutantes here tonight, she actually has some curves to grab on to.”

  Amanda ran hands over her minuscule hips in bewilderment. Did any man actually want to touch curves of cellulite?

  “You can’t blame us for preferring her, Trevor. We’ve always been able to relate to Brittany’s family, could better meet them on common ground through marriage, share the grandchildren, the holidays. A family like the Pierponts will only want to shut us out at every turn.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. Naturally they won’t care to visit Nebraska, but you’ll be welcome here anytime.”

  “I’ve never seen you crawl the way you do for that man.”

  “C’mon, Dad. Crawl?”

  “Don’t deny that when his feathers get ruffled, you’re the one to smooth them.”

  “It’s all part of the job—a job I happen to love.”

  “But do you love this girl Amanda?” Linda demanded. “I’ve yet to hear you say the words.”

  “I’m very fond of her.”

  “Trevor, answer the question properly. You owe us that much.”

  “We’ve spoken of love, of course.”

  “And you share the kind of love Dad and I share.”

  Amanda waited for his passionate outburst on the subject. Puzzled over his silence, she leaned in closer.

  Trevor hung his head and took in a ragged breath. “Well, no.”

  Amanda was struck dumb. Her ears began ringing sharply. It was a few seconds before she realized the sound was Linda’s wail.

  “Four years of college and you’re stupid enough to marry a girl you don’t love!”

  “If her father could hear you now,” Roger fumed, “I bet he’d beat the tar out of you.”

  “I doubt that,” Trevor said ruefully. “Fact is, Lowell doesn’t deal in terms of love. He deals in methods of control. You’ve heard some of his big, blustery statements about playing matchmaker to Amanda and me. Well, he means it, literally! He didn’t just encourage our romance, he initiated it. My relationship with Amanda began in his private office with my psychological profile laid out on his desk.”

  “The man riffled through his own personnel files to find Amanda a suitable mate?”

  “It sure wasn’t Cupid.”

  Linda gasped. “How could he do such a thing?”

  “He’s at the end of his rope with Amanda’s world-class antics and her insipid gossip column. What he wants most is a responsible male on board, preparing to take over the reins of the newspaper, capable of supplying him with heirs.”

  “Does Amanda realize any of this?”

  “I doubt it.” Regret tinged Trevor’s voice.
“Amanda is spoiled, even selfish at times, but I do feel quite sorry for her, in spite of all her money. Her dad doesn’t show her any love. He barely knows she exists. I guess she’s settled for life’s minimum, since she doesn’t have a clue about real love.”

  Settled for life’s minimum? No concept of real love? Feeling weak, Amanda rolled back on her heels, using the wall for support. Eight months of hot and heavy dating followed by a whirlwind St. Thomas proposal and plans for a stellar wedding. Why, words of love had been exchanged between them every day. Day and night! She’d totally believed in him, in their love match. Now he was telling his parents she didn’t even know the meaning of the word.

  What a fool she was. He had never loved her at all. And she had never suspected it!

  Roger went on. “First she settles on her father, now she settles on you? Do two rights make a wrong, son?”

  “Don’t you think I’m worthy husband material?”

  “Of course you are!”

  “But you are making an unworthy decision,” Linda scolded.

  “I can make her reasonably happy. You’ll see.”

  “Watching her flit around that party like a bird, kissing everyone, I wonder if she’s been reasonable even one single day of her life.”

  Roger murmured in agreement. “I wonder if she can adjust to the normalcy of home and family, properly raise our grandchildren! They will be ours, too, you know, not moneybag’s private property.”

  Amanda was astonished. The past few months had been the most purposeful of her life, with her plans secured and her father satisfied for the first time ever. Now the whole rosy picture had been shattered in a heartbeat, by the most unexpected source of all!

  Not that this was her first bit of man trouble. She’d met plenty of anxious suitors on the international party circuit, but not one of them had ever breached her trust. Fact was, none of them had been given the chance to do so. Lowell had raised her to be wary of everyone, on the constant lookout for fortune hunters.

  What Lowell hadn’t done was warn her against himself—and the man of his choice.