Challenging Matt. Julianna Morris

      Layne leaned her elbows on the desk and studied the records she was keeping of everything found in the boxes so far; she didn’t want anything to go unnoticed. The rest of the office would receive an equally careful inventory and review. Most of it was deadly dull, but research wasn’t always exciting. It was more of a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other sort of activity.

      An hour later she heard her aunt arrive home and went out to the kitchen to greet her—Aunt Dee cooked as a stress reliever, so she was in the kitchen a lot these days. Layne was just glad she earned money from the Babbitt part of the time for testing recipes. It wouldn’t fix her financial woes, but maybe it would help stave off disaster for a while.

      “Hi. How was the gallery?”

      “Fine. How was meeting the gorgeous philanthropist?”

      “So-so.” Layne wrinkled her nose. “Matthew Hollister is good-looking, but he isn’t that gorgeous.”

      Liar, screamed her conscience. Matt Hollister was tall, dark and stunning. With his expensive suit, black hair and gray eyes, he could have walked off the cover of a men’s fashion magazine. Of course, he’d graced the cover of more than one magazine and scandal rag when he was still carousing...usually with a woman and a juicy caption. In person he was magnetic, one of those guys who made you want to tear off your clothes and throw yourself into his arms. Her sisters could get away with it, but her? Not a chance. She wasn’t Quasimodo, but she was hardly in Matt Hollister’s league.

      “Anyway,” she continued. “Mr. Hollister wasn’t in the mood to talk. He practically had me thrown out of the building. His security guy showed up as I got off the elevator in the lobby and I thought he was going to pull a gun on me. Followed me clear out to the parking lot and watched me leave.”

      “Are you all right?” Aunt Dee exclaimed.

      “I’m fine. I’m probably overreacting, since he didn’t actually do anything. He was just menacing, in this quiet, intense sort of way. I bet he just looks at someone and they skedaddle.”

      “Lani, I know I asked you to investigate, but it isn’t worth you taking risks. I don’t want you getting hurt, and William wouldn’t have, either.”

      “I’m not taking any risks. It was just a conversation. Though I did hope Mr. Hollister would talk about the company and anything he might have seen or heard about the case. I mean, he worked at Hudson & Davidson through the main part of the investigation, so he must know something. I thought he could at least get his stepfather to meet with me, only he didn’t give me much chance to talk. But I can tell you one thing, Matt Hollister sure got uptight when I mentioned Peter Davidson. What can you tell me about Mr. Davidson? I don’t remember him very well.”

      Aunt Dee pulled several items from the refrigerator, frowning slightly. “He was focused and dedicated. We became friends with Peter and his first wife at William’s last posting in Guam. It was Peter who suggested that Will go back to school and get a degree in accounting when he left the navy. That way they could go into business together when they were both out of the service.”

      Layne scribbled a note on her pad. “I see. Is that why Mr. Davidson moved to the Seattle area, because you guys were here?”

      “Yes, though by that time Shelley, his first wife, had died in an accident. I think that’s why he didn’t come to the house that much—it reminded him of those years when we were all so close.”

      Not close enough, Layne added silently. Peter Davidson had hung his old friend out to dry the minute a whiff of scandal appeared.

      “Anyway,” Aunt Dee said, “Will started an accounting firm when he got his degree instead of going to work for someone else, and when Peter took twenty-year retirement from the navy, he moved here. William sold him half the company so they’d be equal partners. By that time Peter had already made a fortune on the stock market.”

      Layne stared at her aunt who was working at the sink. “You mean the company originally belonged to Uncle Will? I thought they’d started it together.”

      “In a way they did—they expanded beyond accounting and the company grew exponentially after that, with huge corporate accounts and an A-list of wealthy clients.”

      “I see.” Layne gazed out at the wooded backyard. The house faced on a shallow creek gorge and the yard took advantage of a divine natural setting. Whenever possible over the past seven months she’d helped with the upkeep of the property, though Aunt Dee was awfully touchy about it. “But if Mr. Davidson came out of the mess so clean, why won’t his stepson talk about what happened?”

      “Who knows? It could mean anything from a bad relationship with his stepfather to concern about negative press coverage—it isn’t necessarily sinister.”

      “I suppose.”

      Matt Hollister had annoyed Layne, mostly because he was rich and spoiled and no doubt playing at philanthropy the way he’d played at everything else. There were men like him who’d changed their ways, but they weren’t usually thirty-two and in the prime of their life.

      “I wonder how long he’s going to last running the Eisley Foundation?” she mused aloud.

      “Is it important?” Her aunt put a plate of Cobb salad in front of Layne.

      “Not really, though it isn’t as if he earned the job.”

      Dee sat down with her own salad. “The Eisley Foundation does important work. Mr. Eisley earned a fortune in the shipping industry and lumber business, then funneled half of it into humanitarian causes.”

      “I know, he’s the Andrew Carnegie of the Pacific Northwest,” Layne said, waving her fork. “But that’s the grandfather, not the grandson. After getting out of college Matthew Hollister mostly partied hard, drove fast and dated supermodels.”

      Her research on him wasn’t flattering. Honestly, why did some women think a man who partied every night and risked his life in race cars and doing other dumb things was sexy? Except...Matt Hollister was sexy, his exploits notwithstanding. So sexy he’d tied her tongue into knots. She had to view him as a fact to be researched, instead of letting her feminine instincts jump in and turn her into a stuttering idiot.

      “It’s a private foundation, Lani. Mr. Eisley can name anyone to the job. Including his grandson.”

      “I suppose.” Layne took a bite of salad. Mmm. It was loaded with blue cheese, hard-boiled eggs and bacon, along with thick chunks of avocado. Not to mention her aunt’s homemade croutons, with fresh-baked yeast rolls on the side. “This is so good,” she murmured.

      “It isn’t hard to make.”

      “You don’t think anything is hard to make.”

      * * *

      DOROTHY HUDSON SMILED, trying to hide her concern. Her niece looked tired, no doubt from the late nights she’d spent in Will’s home office. Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked Layne to investigate, but it was hard not knowing why her life had fallen apart. And while she didn’t want to be mercenary, she’d lose everything they’d built together if she didn’t get more than twenty-five thousand dollars from the sale of the company.

      She’d talked herself hoarse to the police, calling every day and asking if they’d made any progress. Finally they’d referred her to the Carrollton D.A.’s office, who’d told her in no uncertain terms that while the case was technically open, the only continuing investigation would be to find the stolen money. But it kept bothering her. How could she accept what other people said about William, rather than what she felt in her heart? And lately she could barely sleep for thinking about it.

      She believed he was innocent, didn’t she?

      Sure, a few years ago, Will and Peter had built an expensive new complex for the company. The cost was astronomical, but they’d felt it presented the right image to clients. But then Will’s father had gotten sick. The elder Hudsons hadn’t had health insurance, so she and Will had