Barely Mistaken

They both knew she’d added his father’s whereabouts, not so Luke could seek him out, but as a warning. His mother might not understand him, but she loved him fiercely. The same could not be said of his father. “Thanks, Ruth. Great chicken and dumplings, as usual.”

“I’ve never known you to leave more than a bite of ’em in a bowl before.” A hint of speculation glimmered in her eyes. “I’ll save them for you.”

Without comment, Luke let himself out the back door of the kitchen and headed for the path that skirted the terrace and led downhill to the muddy banks of the Cohutta River. He pulled out a thin cheroot and paused beneath the broad arms of a river oak to light it.

“How much longer will you have to see that Cooper girl?” His father’s voice carried clearly from the open French doors of his study. Luke stilled the lighter, the unlit cheroot clenched in his teeth. Even though he couldn’t see the Colonel, the disdain in his voice clearly painted the sneer on his face.

“Only a little longer. She’s an ice princess, but she’ll come around. I’ll put a ring on her finger if I have to.” Adam laughed in derision.

People swore Adam and Luke sounded alike. His own mother often couldn’t tell them apart on the phone. Luke hoped he didn’t sound like a pompous ass. And he shouldn’t be so damn glad to hear Adam refer to Olivia as an ice princess. She might not run in the other direction when Adam kissed her, but it also sounded as if Adam hadn’t tapped into the passion Luke knew simmered beneath her surface.

“Good God, I hope it doesn’t come to that. But do what you have to do. There’s a lot at stake here.”

Well, well, well. Adam was dating Olivia because she could help him somehow? Luke rubbed his jaw.

“At the party tonight, I’ll invite her to Grandmother’s birthday celebration.”

What strings could she pull for a powerful Rutledge? Whatever was going on, it didn’t bode well for Olivia.

Luke leaned against the rough bark of the tree and squelched his inkling of protectiveness. Olivia was a big girl. She could take care of herself. Luke was nobody’s hero and it’d stay that way. He’d hate to ruin his reputation.

“What about—” The shrill of the phone, his father’s private business line, masked the name. “—Will he be there?”

Adam’s “Yes” coincided with another ring of the phone.

His father answered, held a brief conversation and hung up. “That was Boswell. You need to meet with his man tonight.”

“But what about the party? I’ve already got a pirate costume and everything.” The outfit in the car.

“Forget the party. You can get the final bid information later. Meeting Boswell’s man is more important.”

Boswell? Had he heard that name before? This was getting more interesting by the minute.

“But that’s a three-hour drive. I won’t get back here until two in the morning.”

“Put a sock in it, son. We’re so close now, I can smell the money. Take the farm truck. Your car draws too much attention and you don’t want that.”

Luke shook his head in disgust. Adam had always been something of a bootlicker, but when had he so thoroughly become his father’s puppet?

“Of all the rotten timing. I spent a lot of money on my pirate outfit.” Maybe Adam would like some cheese to go with that whine.

“Shut up about your pirate costume. Dress up in the goddamned thing when you get back home,” the Colonel snapped. “You’ve got to leave within the hour. Meet me back here and I’ll have the money ready.”

Inside, a door opened and closed.

Luke pushed away from the oak and backtracked to the garage. He’d see his mother tomorrow at Grandma Pearl’s party. What the hell were his brother and father up to? Walking in and demanding answers would get him nowhere. Who, other than Olivia, had Adam planned to meet tonight at the party and what information did he need? And why would Adam willingly engage himself to a woman he referred to as an “ice princess”?

And what difference did any of it make? He could just walk away and pretend he’d never overheard that particular conversation. He’d head back home. Maybe stop off at Cecil’s Bar and Grill and throw some darts.

A full moon waited, heavy and ripe in the eastern sky, even as the sun edged toward the horizon. A familiar restlessness gripped him. He stepped into the cool dark of the garage and flipped on the lights.

Glimmering metal caught his eye. The scabbard housing the sword in Adam’s back seat, part of the pirate costume. Is this how pirates felt. Edgy? Restless? Seeking a treasure or excitement? Unsure of what they wanted, but knowing they wanted something? He’d felt this way all of his life. And it usually got him in trouble.

The eyepatch beckoned him. The scabbard flashed her beguiling jewels. The dark wig was about the same length as his own shoulder-length hair. They entreated him, calling to the always-lurking wildness in his soul. A slow smile edged his mouth as an idea took hold.

The car. The costume. The country club. The companion. Opportunity knocked and Luke answered. Could he pull it off? He and Adam sounded alike, and they were about the same build. Luke was darker than Adam, but with low lighting and a costume, if he could figure out who the mystery contact was, he might get some answers. Perhaps a dance or two with Olivia. Then, if he dropped some information her way, it shouldn’t be misconstrued as some misguided attempt at chivalry. It would constitute a leveling of the playing field.

Why the hell not? What could be more befitting of a pirate? And what could go wrong in a couple of hours out of one night?

2

“OLIVIA? OLIVIA COOPER? Is that you?”

Olivia forced herself not to squint, although she couldn’t see. Against her better judgment, she had surrendered to folly and abandoned her tortoiseshell specs in her car. The ballroom’s lighting consisted primarily of candles. She could barely see. Actually, being half blind lent her Dutch courage. She’d mixed and mingled and already raised more money for her beloved library expansion.

The man stepped close enough for her to identify him.

“Hi, Jeff.” An ambitious manager at Adam’s bank who resembled a rodent, Jeff looked much better as an obscure blur.

“Where’s Adam tonight?” he asked, eager for a suck-up opportunity, no doubt.

Blurred vision or not, she still saw Jeff ogling her cleavage. Olivia forced herself not to check herself out as well. Amazing. She actually had cleavage. That merry widow had done impressive things to her small breasts. They not only appeared fuller, they felt fuller as they strained against what had once been a modest neckline. The bra’s stiff lace teased her nipples. Further emboldened by a cat’s-eye mask and her upswept hair, Olivia felt sexy and terribly provocative. It was a heady sensation.

“Adam? He had a meeting late this afternoon and thought it might run late.” The party was in full swing and still no Adam. She bit back her disappointment.

“When you see him, tell him I’m looking for him.” With a final glance at her chest, Jeff took off to suck up to someone else.

Outwardly, she hoped she appeared her usual calm, composed self. Inside she was strung as tight as a crossbow. Good thing she didn’t drink, or she’d be tempted to knock back a few shots of Marty’s Wild Turkey. Instead, she slipped through a side door and stepped out into the crisp autumn night. The moon, a golden orb swollen with promise, hung suspended above the semi-dressed branches of water oaks and pines.

Olivia steadied herself against the rail of the wraparound porch. How many times had she listened to other girls chatter about their dates at country club soirees? Now she was one of them. Or she would be once Adam arrived.

As if her thoughts had conjured him up, headlights flashed down the azalea-lined driveway. Olivia recognized the hum of the BMW’s engine. A sudden case of nerves had her tucking hairpins more securely and plucking at her mask. What would Adam think of her costume?

She watched as he pulled up and relinquished his car to the club’s valet. Her breath caught in her throat, as her pulse pounded.

Wow! Blurred vision or not, there was no denying the pirate outfit tripled Adam’s sex appeal. Was it the eye-patch or the Errol Flynn shirt or the wig and tight breeches that lent a sexy swagger to his stride? Something primitive awakened and responded to his saunter. For one brief, disruptive second Luke Rutledge came to mind—doubtless conjured up by Beth’s earlier chatter. She brushed the thought of him away, much as she might a pesky mosquito. Luke was a pompous ass.

Instead she concentrated on Adam.

She gathered her wits as he climbed the broad stairs. “Adam,” she called to him, her voice a disgusting squeak. “Adam,” she tried again, this time sounding more like herself instead of a mouse on steroids.

After the slightest hesitation, he turned in her direction. “Yes?” His steps slowed as he walked toward her. A tall, dark, mysterious stranger.

“I wondered when you were coming.” Her voice came out low and husky.

“Olivia.”

How many times had he spoken her name in the past several weeks? Countless. Yet it had never slid off of his tongue like a caress. She didn’t need clear vision to feel the heat of his gaze as it flicked over her. He stopped before her.