But now, looking out over clear blue water, white beaches and seeing only the occasional car felt…right. Somehow, the island had sneaked into his system. Much like Melinda had, he admitted silently.
This place, this woman, were becoming more important to him every day. Yet he knew he couldn’t afford to get attached to either one of them since he would be leaving in a few short weeks.
His brain was running in circles. He wasn’t finding answers to any of his questions—only more questions. Which gave him a damn headache and had him reaching for his phone gratefully when it rang.
A glance at the caller ID had him smiling. “Garrett.”
“Sean, got some news for you.”
“Right.” He focused on his cousin’s voice and pushed thoughts of Melinda to one side for the moment. God knew there’d be plenty of time later to deal with the ramifications of this temporary marriage. “What’d you find out?”
“Mainly?” Garret asked. “I found out Steven Hardesty was a creep.”
Sean inhaled sharply and nodded as his gut feeling was vindicated.
“Not surprised,” he said. “You should see his picture. No one with that many teeth is a good guy.”
“Yeah.” Garrett snorted. “Anyway, seems our Mr. Hardesty was a small-time con. Used his charm to bilk women out of money, then he’d disappear. There are a couple of police departments in Europe who’d love to have a chat with him.”
“Tough to manage, him being dead and all,” Sean muttered.
“Yeah, I actually told them about his death. They were disappointed.”
Thinking about Melinda mourning this guy, crying because she’d felt she was cheating on him with Sean, just made Sean’s stomach churn and his temper spike. “So he was a thief.”
“Oh yeah, and from what I can tell, he had moved up to embezzling just before his untimely passing.”
“Embezzling?” Sean’s spine went stiff as a board. His gaze was fixed on the harbor, but he hardly noticed the panorama stretched out in front of him. “From who?”
“Walter Stanford.”
“Damn it.” Sean’s hand fisted on his phone tightly enough that he wouldn’t have been surprised to snap the plastic case. Not only was the late, great Steven setting Melinda up to be used, and to no doubt drain her trust fund, but he had been stealing from the old man, too?
Quietly furious, Sean couldn’t help wondering if this was why Walter’s finances were in such bad shape. If Steven had been siphoning money from the hotel…” You sure about this?”
“Oh yeah. There’s enough of a paper trail to prove it.”
“Good.” Not that Sean had any imminent plans to tell Melinda about this, but he was sure as hell going to tell Walter. And it was good to know there was proof if the old man needed it.
“Sounds like your Melinda got off easy with this guy dying before he could cheat her and leave her.”
“Sounds that way, doesn’t it.” Garrett was clearly as disgusted as Sean. “Thanks Garrett. Appreciate it.”
“No problem, cuz. Call if you need anything else.”
When he hung up, Sean thought about Garrett’s statement. If Steven hadn’t died, Melinda would have been hurt and betrayed. She probably would have lost the money she was counting on to make her independent. But more, she’d have felt foolish and might have gone on a man-hating spree. But as it stood, she didn’t know the guy was a creep. To her, he was still the beloved fiancé, so instead of being pissed off, she was dealing with survivor’s guilt.
Steven Hardesty didn’t deserve one of Melinda’s tears. Tossing the phone onto his desk, Sean turned to the window again. He threw it open, allowing the ocean wind to rush in at him. The scent of the sea and the cool air didn’t do a damn thing to settle his mind. Bottom line? He didn’t know what the hell to do with this knowledge.
Should he tell Melinda? If she believed him, it would break her heart. If she didn’t believe him, she’d hate Sean for trying to destroy her memory of Steven.
“Hell, even dead, the bastard is winning.”
Riding a wave of banked fury, Sean knew there was one person at least, who should be told the truth. He pushed away from the window, stalked across the room and left, slamming the door behind him.
Eleven
For the first time, Walter Stanford looked old.
Sean swallowed back his own anger and sense of righteous indignation and focused on the man sitting at his desk.
Walter stared down at his empty hands as if accusing them of being helpless. Shaking his head slowly, he took several long, deep breaths before speaking in a soft voice filled with regret and just a hint of the fury Sean was still feeling.
“Yes, I knew about Steven’s theft. He had been here for little more than year,” Walter said, lifting his gaze to meet Sean’s. “And in that time, he managed to feather quite a nice nest for himself—at my expense.”
“So he is the reason the hotel is having hard times.”
“Not entirely,” Walter said with a tired sigh. “Truthfully, I made a few bad investments and, in all honesty, should have opened the island to more tourism. Not just for my sake, but for everyone else here. So it wasn’t all Steven’s fault, though he certainly did his share.” Walter picked up a pen, twirled it in his fingers for a second, then tossed it to his desktop in disgust. “Steven must have gotten wind that I was to have him arrested. He was killed when he was driving to the harbor to catch a boat to St. Thomas.”
“And you didn’t tell Melinda.” It wasn’t a question.
He fixed his gaze on Sean. “No. Melinda was never aware of my troubles or Steven’s perfidy. If he had lived, she would have had to know. As it is, I thought it better to keep my silence.”
“Why?” Sean demanded, dropping both hands onto the edge of the desk and leaning in. “Damn it Walter, Melinda’s smart. Capable. She doesn’t need to be treated like a child.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Walter’s anger began to crackle in the room, and it collided with Sean’s in a nearly visible shower of sparks. Pushing up from his chair, Walter muttered, “Do you think I enjoy seeing my girl mourning that fraud? Grieving for a cheat of a man who would have left her broken had he been given the chance?”
Sean leaned one hip against the edge of the desk, crossed his arms over his chest and asked a simple question. “Why then? Why keep quiet?”