He walked right up to the actress, and before he could open his mouth, she smiled at him and he found himself speechless, caught up in her hypnotizing beauty. He felt like a gulping fish.
“Hi.” A light breeze fluttered the tips of her curly black hair. Up close, her brown eyes had the tiniest bit of green in them.
“You must be Chloe.” That was original.
Her eyebrows went up in surprise. “I think you have me confused with the name of the character I played on Maddie’s Mad World.” Her voice was sultry and low. “My name is Merry. Meredith Alcott.”
“I know,” Jake replied, chagrined at his mistake. “I’ve always wondered what child actors did after they retired.”
“Some of us get jobs, some of us go into rehab, some of us just drop out of sight,” she replied sweetly.
“I’m glad you’re not in rehab.” That sounded pretty foolish. He couldn’t come up with something better?
“Me, too,” she said.
“How are you planning to separate my old man from his money?”
Her eyebrows rose and she chuckled. “You must be Jake. Your sister was a bit more subtle than you.” She studied him for a second and then stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Was that sarcasm? He opened his mouth to say something. Again, nothing came out. Apparently she wasn’t threatened by him, or by his sister, and Evelyn was a bulldozer. So much for her being a frail, fragile actress. She watched him, her jaw set in determination and a look in her eyes that told him there was nothing frail or fragile about her. He looked down at her hand and saw ink smudged on two fingers. She had beautiful hands, with long, slender fingers and nails buffed to shine. He took her hand and shook it, surprised at the firmness of her grip and the softness of her skin. For a moment, wild thoughts chased themselves through his mind until he pushed them away.
“Um,” he said. “Likewise.” She wasn’t going to rabbit on him, so what was step number two? He should have planned this better.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and spend your dad’s money.” She turned on her heel and walked away, her head held high.
Jake stared after her. What the hell had just happened? That petite woman had just put him in his place.
His phone rang and he retrieved it from the holder on his belt. He glanced at the caller ID. Mel Vaughn, one of his particularly difficult clients.
He answered the call. “Mel.” Jake closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m buying my child’s mother a car,” Mel launched into his pitch. “I found this hot Ferrari that would be perfect for me—I mean her.”
“And where would she put a kid’s car seat?” Jake asked. He’d signed off on a SUV.
“Hey, man, the Ferrari is perfect.”
“I said you could buy a minivan or an SUV.”
“Minivans aren’t sexy,” Mel whined.
And being in debt to your hairline is? “I signed off on thirty thousand for a car. You have to stick with your budget.”
“I can’t think about a budget,” Mel whined again. “Have a heart.”
Mel Vaughn was twenty-six years old, but he was acting like a child. When he’d hit bankruptcy, the court had appointed Jake to unravel his finances. Now Mel wanted a Ferrari when he still owed the IRS a chunk of change.
Jake leaned against a fence as he watched Merry measure the diameter of a small children’s ride. Every time she bent over to measure something, his pulse leaped into overdrive.
“Mel,” Jake said patiently. “You can’t buy a Ferrari until after you pay the IRS your back taxes. If you buy a Ferrari after the deal I brokered for you with the IRS, they’ll come after you.”
“How are they going to find out?”
The first thing Mel would do was tweet his purchase, post a picture on his Instagram account and announce it on his Facebook page. “Do you think a high-profile case like yours isn’t going to be scrutinized? People care about what you do, Mel. And trust me, the IRS monitors everything. The purchase of a Ferrari will not stay a secret for long.”
“How am I going to explain it to her?” Mel asked, his whining going up a notch.
“Have her call me. I’ll be the bad guy.”
“But she’s got her heart set on this Ferrari.”
“Then she can pay for it. Thirty grand is all you’re getting. Because thirty grand is all you have to spare. You’re barely swimming above water, Mel.” Mel was starting his career all over again. “No Ferrari,” Jake said flatly. “Don’t ask me again.” He disconnected, not wanting to hear Mel continue to beg.
When Jake had decided on finance for his career, he’d thought dealing with celebrities would be glamorous and fun. But the reality was much harsher. He loved his job, and he loved the challenge of fixing people’s broken finances, but he didn’t always like the people.
His gaze landed on Merry again. She’d moved on to another ride and stood in front of it with her sketchbook cradled in one arm while her pencil moved up and down. Jake studied her, wondering what her finances looked like. She must have socked away some money, since her series had run for five years until both she and her costar had grown out of their parts. She’d done a few movies afterward, but nothing in the past decade. She drove a Prius. In a background check, he’d found out she’d been transitioned to working in the Chapman Brothers theme park as an assistant set designer, since that seemed to be something she’d enjoyed, but most of her background was a big question.
She knelt down in front of an orange tree. She measured the base and made a note in her sketchbook. Even though she was dressed in a practical manner, he could see that her jeans were well made, and though not high-end designer jeans, they weren’t something she’d picked up at a discount department store.
“Jacob,” his father said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Caught by surprise, Jake forced his attention away from the distracting woman to his father. “Got here a few minutes ago.”
His father gave him a shrewd glance. “Pretty, isn’t she?”
Jake pulled his gaze away from Merry to look at his dad. “I thought we had agreed to sell the park.”
His dad’s gaze darkened. “I changed my mind,” he said defiantly. “I don’t want to sell.”
“Dad, I know you didn’t care much for Harry Constantine. He can be a bit of a hard-ass, but his offer is a good one. If you don’t like his offer, Alicia Mortensen at Kessler Investments is interested. I’ve had a number of other queries about this property.”
“I don’t want to sell,” John said, a mulish look on his face.
“This park hasn’t done more then break even in years. People who come to Los Angeles go to Chapman Brothers, Knotts Berry Farm, Universal Studios or Disneyland. They don’t come to Riverside.”
“I’m not looking to attract the international traveler. A lot of local people can’t afford a hundred bucks to get into a big, fancy park. For a family of four, that’s four hundred dollars. That was my house payment when your mom and I first got married, and that was high-end. Locals can come here for thirty per person, have a great time and go home feeling like they haven’t dropped a bundle. I’m not looking for the international traveler, but the local people who don’t want to compete with the whole world for a day of fun.”
“I think you’re making a mistake, Dad,” Jake