Jennifer Morey - Runaway Heiress

“No other relatives?”

“No. None.” She hoped she didn’t sound rehearsed. And that he would stop asking personal questions.

“Do you miss him?” he asked.

She found that an odd question. Moving her gaze to him, she tried to see if he had a purpose, an ulterior motive, for doing so. But the detective in him kept his facial expression blank.

“No.” She could speak honestly about this part. “My father was not an easy man to please.”

“A lot of dads are like that. They want what’s best for their kids. They want them to be successful. Sometimes that means pushing them hard.”

“Well, then I’m a stereotypical rich kid when it comes to my father’s expectations. He gave me everything I wanted as long as it was within his rules. I grew up in a mansion and had lots of toys. He planned for me to take over for him since I was in high school. He planned my career path, made me study business in college. Nothing I did was my choice. The only women he respected were the ones he worked with, and then only those who practically killed themselves for their jobs. Forty hours a week was never enough. And if you didn’t work when you were home, you received more black marks. He didn’t care about family. He only cared about making money. And if those who worked for him didn’t feed his love for it, they didn’t last long. He was never faithful in his personal relationships, either. He was the most selfish person I’ve ever known or even ever heard of.”

“You resent him quite a bit,” Jasper said.

“Resent?” She thought on that awhile. Resent didn’t describe her feelings toward her father. “I might resent the way he dictated my life, but I don’t resent him. I feel sorry for him sometimes. But mostly I’m...” She caught herself before she said the wrong thing. “I’m glad he’s gone.”

“So are a lot of people who worked for him, I bet.”

She smiled up at him, floating on the water, slowly paddling one arm. “I did inherit his money. I suppose I like him for that part.”

“You do a lot of good with it.”

“I do a lot of frivolous things with it, too.” She winced as she overextended her arm but continued to work her muscles.

“Are you all right?” Jasper asked.

“Yes.” Had she ever been with a man this attentive before?

“Do you want to stop?”

“Not yet.” She looked up at him and couldn’t look away.

As the seconds ticked by, an attracted sort of awareness sparkled in his blue eyes.

“Where did you grow up?”

She wasn’t sure why he asked, maybe because she’d said she grew up in a mansion. “San Francisco.”

“Is that where his company was?”

She didn’t want to answer that. After a few seconds she finally did, reluctantly. “Yes.”

He seemed to notice so she treaded water with her hand, pretending not to notice him, as well.

“Why do you care so much about homeless people?” he asked at last.

No one had ever asked her why. “I didn’t until I met Bernie.”

The charity held special significance because of the injustice many homeless people endured. Whether they landed on the streets after suffering financial catastrophes or mental illness, they were treated like trash by the rest of civilization. But why did she care so much? She did care. A great deal. She cared about the people and their destitute circumstances.

“I needed something to do with my time and I wanted to run a nonprofit,” she said. “Bernie opened my eyes to a lot of things.”

“What things?”

She remembered her childhood, going to her father’s corporation and witnessing him rule like a bloated king. It used to disgust and embarrass her.

“The way my father treated people he viewed lesser than him. How many people did he drive into that kind of destitution?” She lowered her legs and stood, Jasper aiding her until she found her footing. Then he dropped his arms. She put her hand on his arm to steady herself. The contact sent a river of shivering tickles up her arm and through her core. She met his eyes, impossibly blue, and again couldn’t look away.

“You think your father drove people into destitution?” He found his aplomb before her.

She lowered her hand but he kept his on her waist. It was distracting. Then she went back in time. “He was a tyrant to his employees and looked down at the lower-earning personnel. He treated his secretary horribly. He taught me that the underprivileged were beneath us, beneath anyone with money and in positions of power. But the older I grew, the more I realized how wrong that way of thinking is. Lording over people who have less isn’t the way to improve society. Encouraging people gives them inspiration and inspiration leads to good, happy productivity. If people thrive the company thrives. People like that are able and willing to contribute more to their community. If you oppress them, they only give what is required because they’re afraid to step out of those boundaries. Do as told and that’s all. Don’t contribute because contributing may lead to more oppression.” She ran her hands through the surface of the water. “I believe the key to real success is through positive reinforcement. You don’t beat people down by taking away their freedom in the workplace, giving orders and constantly reminding them their place is beneath you. I hated my father for being that kind of man. He obtained his wealth working others like slaves to his dream, not giving a rat about how much they suffered or how unhappy they were, like the privilege of working for him was a gift to be worshipped. I despise supremacists because of him and the example he made. I often wonder if he would have still earned his billions if he’d have been generous and kind and humble, rather than the selfish bully he was.”

Not enjoying the memories, she slipped away from his arm and walked through the water to the stairs, taking them slowly and then picking up the towel the maid had left for her. She wrapped it around her and went to the Jacuzzi. The maid had also turned that on. There was no easy way in.

“Let me help you.” Jasper climbed in ahead of her and put his hand on her waist. Gently he helped her down onto the seat and then the floor of the tub.

She sat, feeling weary but the warmth worked like a soothing balm. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

“You have very strong feelings about your father,” Jasper said.

“Let’s not talk about him anymore.” Thinking about her father made her feel lousy. “What about you?”

“Me?”

She kept her eyes closed. “Your family. I bet they’re a lot different than mine.” They probably hadn’t forced him to do a job he didn’t like.

“Both my parents live in Toledo, Michigan. I grew up there. Me and a brother and three sisters.”

She lifted her head in amazement. Such a large family. What would that have been like? She’d been an only child. “Are you close to them?”

“We talk on occasion. I see them on the holidays.” He had a fond glint to his eyes that spoke more than his few words. He was close to them.

“How did you end up becoming a detective?” Had he dreamed as a boy and followed them in adulthood? She wished she’d have had the opportunity to explore her own dreams.

“Video games, books and crime series. I wanted to be a hero.” He grinned, a sexy masculine slide of his mouth. Then he stretched his muscular arms out along the edge of the Jacuzzi, momentarily distracting her.

In a way, she’d wanted to be a heroine. She hadn’t been allowed working for her father.

“I was also a hyperactive kid,” he said. “Everything interested me. I had to keep absorbing new things. Experiencing things. Sports. Places. Learning and analyzing. That’s where the crime investigations came in. I couldn’t make a living traveling or rock climbing so I went to a police academy and worked my way up to SWAT. That got old, though. I wanted to use my brain more.”