now?” Jake asked.
Northrup shook his head. “It’s now become very complicated. Iris, you see, has convinced herself this man is her long-lost grandson. He’s agreed to a DNA test, but we won’t have the results for weeks. In that length of time, a professional con man can do a great deal of damage, both financially and psychologically. It’s the latter I’m most worried about. Iris is extremely vulnerable right now. If she continues to believe this man is her grandson, and then finds out weeks later that he is not, the result could be devastating.”
“I understand,” Jake said. “But I still don’t see why your office can’t at least run a background check on him.”
Again Northrup hesitated, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Iris doesn’t want an investigation of any kind. She’s made her position very clear. She wants to believe this man is her grandson for as long as possible. If I find out that he isn’t…if I’m the one to break the news to her—”
“I get it,” Jake interrupted. “She might want to shoot the messenger.”
The piercing gray eyes met his. “That’s where you come in. I want you to investigate this man, leave no stone unturned, but I don’t want anyone to know that I’ve hired you.”
“What if I find out he’s an impostor?” Jake asked. “How are you going to convince Mrs. Kingsley?”
“You get the proof,” Northrup said. “I’ll worry about dealing with Iris. Do we have an agreement?”
Jake had a feeling that making a deal with Victor Northrup might be akin to striking a bargain with the devil. He wasn’t about to rush into anything. He knew Northrup hadn’t.
“Let me think about it overnight and I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
Northrup seemed surprised by Jake’s hesitancy, but he shrugged. “Fair enough,” he replied, rising to leave. “I’ll expect to hear from you first thing in the morning. We can go over the details then.”
When Northrup was at the door, Jake said, “One more thing.”
Northrup turned.
“Why me? There are dozens of qualified investigators in this city. You have to know how Mrs. Kingsley feels about me.”
“That’s precisely why I chose you.” Northrup’s expression remained unfathomable. “You aren’t afraid of Iris Kingsley, and from what I’ve been able to gather, you don’t mind getting your hands dirty if the situation warrants it.”
* * *
FROM HER CAR, HOPE watched Victor Northrup leave Jake’s building and head her way. She slumped in her seat, not wanting to be seen. Iris had made her wishes clear, and if Victor saw Hope here, he might put two and two together and figure out she’d come to hire Jake to investigate Michael.
Come to think of it, what was Victor doing here? Hope wondered, lifting her head slightly to see if he’d passed by her car yet. She couldn’t imagine that he’d been visiting a client in this area of town. Could he have been here to see Jake, too? Had he also gone against Iris’s wishes and hired a private investigator to check into Michael’s background?
But why Jake? Northrup’s law firm had several private investigators on the payroll at any given time. Why would he not use one of them? Unless, of course, he was afraid Iris might get wind of the investigation. But whatever his motive, Hope knew he had thought out his alternatives carefully. Victor Northrup was not an impulsive man.
Although he had been close to the Kingsleys for years and Iris and Andrew had trusted him implicitly with both their private and business dealings, Hope didn’t really like Victor. There had always been something about him that was just a little too smooth. A little too polished. When he had brought her the news of Andrew’s death, his condolences had sounded almost practiced, as if he knew the right things to say, but lacked the emotion to make them convincing.
Hope watched him get into a silver Rolls-Royce and pull away from the curb. She waited until he was out of sight, then got out of her car and crossed the street to Jake’s building. The receptionist had already left for the day, so Hope studied the directory mounted on the wall near the entrance to locate Jake’s office.
The elevator lifted her to the third floor, and when the doors slid open, Hope’s stomach knotted with nerves. What if he wouldn’t see her? He’d been so cool to her this morning, and there was no reason to think his attitude might have changed in a few hours. Ten years of bitterness lay between them, after all, and as Hope stood outside his office door, poised to knock, every one of those years came crashing down on her.
Before she could change her mind, she lifted her hand and rapped on the door, then opened it without waiting for him to answer.
CHAPTER THREE
“Hope?” Jake cocked his head, gazing at her warily as she stood in his doorway. She wore a white suit that made her look crisp and clean and very expensive. Untouchable was the word that came to mind. “Is something wrong?”
She looked uncertain for a moment, as if she’d somehow been picked up and transported to his office through no will of her own. Like Dorothy landing in Oz. Her light brown hair was pulled back and fastened at her nape, emphasizing her high cheekbones, the delicate arch of her brows. “No. Nothing’s wrong. I’d like to talk to you if you have a minute.”
“What about?”
She paused, glancing around his office as if to make sure they were alone. “You were at the house yesterday when Michael Eldridge came to see the Kingsleys.”
“The man claiming to be Adam Kingsley, you mean.” Jake leaned against the desk, crossing his feet at the ankles. He waved her to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, and Hope sat down. “He was there again this morning, wasn’t he?”
Hope nodded. “He isn’t exactly claiming to be Adam Kingsley. At least, not yet. But Iris is convinced that he is. He bears an amazing resemblance to Andrew.”
“Yeah. I saw him.” He’d also seen Hope’s face yesterday when she’d seen him. For a moment, it had been as if she’d thought Andrew had come back from the dead, and her unbridled reaction wasn’t something Jake had been able to put out of his mind since.
He gazed at her now, wondering what the hell she was doing here. When he’d seen her just after Andrew’s death, she’d barely been civil, but Jake guessed he should have expected that. He’d found out some pretty dark secrets about her husband, and Hope hadn’t wanted to believe him.
The two of them had never been able to see eye to eye on Andrew Kingsley. Jake had known Andrew all of his life, had thought him to be an arrogant, selfish bastard, but Hope, from the very first time she’d met him, had thought him charming and sophisticated. A true Southern gentleman. So different from the cops she’d been around all of her life. So different from Jake.
He used to wonder how their lives might have turned out if he hadn’t been the one to introduce Hope to Andrew. Jake wanted to believe it no longer mattered, but deep down, he knew that it did. He knew it every time he caught a glimpse of Hope driving up to the Kingsley mansion in her white Jaguar. He knew it every time he saw the wide band of diamonds glittering on her finger and the expensive clothes gracing her slender body.
He knew it now, as his gaze skimmed her familiar features—the lightly tanned complexion, the golden-brown hair, the beguiling violet eyes. It mattered then, and it mattered now, that she had chosen Andrew Kingsley over him.
More than Jake wanted to admit.
She crossed her legs, and he heard the slight rustle of her nylons. Awareness shot through him like a bullet. Hope Sterling was still the most desirable woman he’d ever known. Ten years and a dead husband lay between them, but Jake still found her just as attractive as he ever had. The knowledge made him want to put his fist through a brick wall.
Instead,