Incognito

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Prologue

Last Summer

“YOU HAVE our tickets, don’t you?”

Lily Hart sighed softly, her meditation interrupted. She was due to get on a plane in a half hour and if she didn’t calm herself, the panic attacks would set in the moment she stepped on board. “Yes, Miranda, I have the tickets. Have I ever forgotten the tickets?”

She reached down into her tote and pulled out the ridiculously expensive Italian leather travel wallet that Miranda had given her last Christmas. As she stared at their boarding passes, tucked neatly into the inside pocket, Lily shook her head. This was her life—designer accessories, first-class tickets to Paris, three weeks in a rented six-bedroom apartment on some fancy rue on the Left Bank. This was her life.

Except it wasn’t her life. She was living the life of Miranda Sinclair, bestselling novelist. As Miranda’s research assistant, social secretary and girl Friday, it was Lily’s responsibility to see that Miranda’s life was as close to worry-free as possible. And for that, she was paid quite handsomely.

A good-paying job shouldn’t come at such a high price, Lily mused. Miranda was Lily’s godmother and she’d been her legal guardian since Lily’s parents divorced fourteen years ago. Miranda had offered her a home, a place to live when her parents had decided to leave the States. Miranda needed her, more than anyone had ever needed her before, and Lily ought to be grateful.

“I’m sorry,” Lily murmured. “I didn’t mean to snap. You know how I feel about flying.”

Miranda reached out and patted Lily’s hand. In addition to providing a home, Miranda had paid Lily’s college tuition and she’d given her a job when she got out of school. Lily was grateful. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to have a life all her own.

“Look,” Miranda murmured, nodding in the direction of a man sitting on a sofa on the other side of the first-class lounge. “Gorgeous, no?”

Lily turned to Miranda and frowned. “Stop. I thought we decided you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

“Just look.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger, then straightened, tucking her ash-blond hair behind her ear. Even though she’d just turned fifty-four, Miranda acted more like a big sister than a parent figure. She certainly didn’t look much older than Lily’s twenty-seven years. “That is a very fine specimen.”

Lily refused the order. For the past few years, Miranda had been intent on finding a man for Lily. Apparently, she hadn’t fully approved of the men Lily occasionally found for herself—nice, stable, slightly boring men who wouldn’t cheat and wouldn’t hurt her. Miranda preferred another type of man—passionate, temperamental, creative—the typical bad boy.

“God, he is gorgeous. You know who that is, don’t you? That’s Aidan Pierce. Hollywood’s new enfant terrible. Three hit films in as many tries. Every producer in town is sending him projects to direct. How old do you think he is?”

Reluctantly, Lily glanced up and fixed her gaze on the man in question. Her breath suddenly caught in her throat and she was forced to look away—or faint from lack of oxygen.

Living in L.A., she’d seen her share of beautiful men. But she’d always managed to discount them all because they didn’t meet the image of perfection she kept in her head. Aidan Pierce came as close to perfect as any man she’d ever set eyes upon.

Swallowing hard, she forced a smile. “Too young for you.”

“I’m thinking of changing my rules. I no longer think it would look pathetic for me to date men under the age of thirty.” Miranda sat back in her chair and sniffed. “He wouldn’t be too young for you. Why don’t we go over and introduce ourselves? Offer to buy him a drink.”

She moved to stand, but Lily grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. “No, stop it!” She felt a flush creep up her cheeks.

Miranda sighed dramatically. “You know I adore you, darling, but you can’t live with me for the rest of your life. You need to get out in the world and enjoy yourself.”

“And fixing me up with strange men is going to do that?”

Miranda grudgingly picked up her copy of Vogue and flipped through the pages. “I’d hardly call him strange. When was the last time you had sex?”

“None of your business,” Lily muttered.

With Miranda’s attention distracted, Lily had a chance to observe Aidan Pierce silently. He was dressed casually, in cargo shorts, a faded cotton shirt rolled up at the sleeves and flip-flops. His hair was mussed in a way that made him look as if he’d just rolled out of bed to catch his flight. She could see the shadow of a two-or three-day beard on his chiseled jaw.

A shiver skittered down her spine as she speculated about the body beneath the comfortable clothes. There were women in this world, in L.A., who knew what Aidan Pierce looked like naked—women who had probably touched him in all sorts of tantalizing ways.

A tiny moan slipped from her throat and she covered it with a cough, then glanced over at Miranda. To her dismay, Miranda was watching her, a smug smile on her face. “What?” Lily muttered.

“So you do find him attractive,” she said.

“Of course. Who wouldn’t?” She looked over at Aidan again, only to see a beautiful young woman plop down on his lap. He squirmed uneasily beneath her, but she refused to budge. “See, he has a girlfriend. He’s taken.”

Miranda went back to her magazine. “It’ll never last. I read in the tabloids that he dates all the most beautiful actresses in Hollywood and then dumps them a month or two later. His problem is he needs a real woman. Like you.”

“I don’t think he’d be interested in me,” Lily murmured. Though Miranda had done her best to turn Lily into a beauty, Lily still felt…ordinary.

Miranda twisted in her chair and leveled her gaze on Lily. “Have you learned nothing from writing that book? You can seduce any man you want, you just have to have confidence in your sex appeal.”

Lily shook her head. “I didn’t write The Ten-Minute Seduction, you did.”

For the past year, Lily had helped Miranda write a sex manual, a book that instructed women on the most effective way to seduce a man. Miranda was known for her bestselling legal thrillers, but for some unknown reason, she’d felt compelled to switch genres. Knowing her publishers wouldn’t approve, she’d sold the book using a pseudonym—Lacey St. Claire.

“You know you wrote most of it,” Miranda said. “The book is really yours. And the copyright will be yours, too. So all the royalties will come to you.” Miranda held up her hand. “I won’t hear another word about it.” She put on a pout that was all too familiar to Lily. “I would have thought you’d have learned something. Anything.”

Lily frowned as a slow realization dawned. “What do you mean?”

Miranda shrugged. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Was that all part of your scheming?” Lily demanded. “Did you make me write that book so that I’d know how to seduce a man?”

Miranda pursed her lips. “Well, I didn’t expect it to be so good. I just thought I’d put it in a drawer and forget about it. But it was good, Lily. Your research combined with my experience made the book publishable. So sue me. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lily slumped back in her chair. “The meddling stops right now, Miranda. You know how much I love you, but this has got to stop. Do you know how hard I worked on that book? I thought I was helping you and you were just tricking me.”

“And when the book comes out next year, you’ll be a published author and you’ll have a man.” Miranda stood and tucked her purse beneath her arm. “I’m going to go get us a few drinks. You’re so much easier to manage on a flight after you’ve tossed back a few cocktails.”

Lily watched as her godmother crossed to the bar. She’d dreamed of becoming published, but not this way, not with some sex book. For six months now, she’d been working on her own novel, a simple story about a young girl searching for her place in the world. But between Miranda’s schedule and her own insecurities, she hadn’t found much time to work.

She watched as Miranda wandered over to Aidan and introduced herself. She nodded in Lily’s direction and Aidan gave her a brief look, then turned his attention back to Miranda.

“I have got to get a life of my own,” she muttered. She would. As soon as they got back from Paris, she’d look for an apartment. And then, maybe, if a guy like Aidan Pierce glanced in her direction, she’d have the courage to walk up to him and say hello.

1