скачать книгу бесплатно
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.
Adam usually wore a trendy cologne she found somewhat cloying, but tonight he’d abandoned it. His clean, masculine scent, mingled with the sharp, cold, autumn air, aroused her.
Mercurial, quicksilver heat spread through her. Alarmed her. The staid, practical librarian demanded retreat. She stepped back and the darkness engulfed her. The distance didn’t diffuse the awareness that shimmered and danced between them.
Adam followed her into the shadows, the broad expanse of his shoulders silhouetted against the moon. “You’re beautiful. You take my breath away, Lady Olivia.”
Oh my. She checked the urge to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else and decided to try something new—gracious acceptance. “Thank you.”
“We should go inside. It’s cold out here.”
His low-timbered voice shivered against her skin. His words said one thing, his body language said something else as he dipped his head toward her.
“Yes. We should…” Instead, she stepped closer, drawn to him regardless of her will.
“…go inside.” Even as he finished her sentence, he cupped her shoulders and drew her forward.
She braced her hands against the smooth texture of his shirt, the spring of male hair beneath tantalizing. Evocative. Unnerving. “Tell me why again,” she murmured.
“It’s cold.”
Every inch of her body responded to him. The black velvet mask pressed sensually against her face while the night air’s cool fingers brushed against her heated skin. “Is it?”
She’d accepted Adam’s kisses before. Now, for the first time, she craved his kiss.
“Olivia?”
Her insides melted at the rich roll of her name on his lips—an auditory aphrodisiac. The night and her vision—or lack of—blurred reality, yet intensified her other senses. The steady rhythm of his breathing whispered a melody to the background accompaniment of the party’s muted sounds. His scent evoked an awareness deep within her.
Her breath mingled with his. As inevitable as the rise of the moon or the rustle of the wind through the dry leaves, her lips welcomed his.
And her world turned upside down.
Passion, long dormant and unacknowledged, awakened with an almost frightening intensity. Had she ever felt this way before? A ghost of a memory danced in her head, but wrapped in the feel and taste of him, Olivia gave it no credence.
Was it the full moon? Maybe the mask? Or simply because it felt so undeniably good? She didn’t stop to delve into motives. Instead, uncharacteristically, she abandoned herself to the situation and the sensations flooding her. She leaned into him and deepened their kiss.
Thus far in their relationship, Adam hadn’t been very physical. On the odd occasion when he was, his touch verged on platonic. Although he’d hesitated for the briefest moment, there was nothing platonic in the way he slanted his mouth over hers.
Olivia grasped his shoulders more firmly, as much to support herself as to enjoy the play of hard muscles beneath her hands. She silently apologized to Adam for previously thinking him a bit on the soft side. He was deliciously muscular and firm.
And his kissing had come a long way since the last time. They both came up for air. Olivia slumped against the brick wall for support. Adam braced himself against the same wall, his hands on either side of her. How was she supposed to catch her breath and recover from that kiss with his breath warming her face, his body mere inches from hers?
A few feet away, a window scraped open. Laughter and music spilled onto the porch, shattering their cocoon of intimacy. “It’s hot in here,” a woman’s complaint drifted out.
Olivia corrected her posture and Adam straightened, dropping his arms to his sides.
“We should go inside. It sounds as if it’s much warmer in there,” Olivia regained her voice along with her coherence.
Together they moved toward the door. Adam’s fingers found the small of her back and settled there. Shivers chased along her spine.
“It can’t be any hotter than it is now.” Adam’s muttered comment absolutely wrecked her small measure of composure as they joined the party.
LUKE NAVIGATED through the crush of people hovering about the door without stopping to talk. Kissing Olivia had damn near rendered him incapable of speech. He was still reeling from the impact of that kiss. Holding her in his arms, tasting her mouth, breathing in her scent, had felt like a homecoming. Thirteen long years and he realized the way he’d felt during that first kiss hadn’t been a fluke. He barely refrained from grinning like an idiot. If Adam had ever experienced even a sampling of Olivia’s brimming sensuality and passion, he’d have never referred to her as an ice princess.
He mentally compared the country club to Cecil’s Bar and Grill. As a matter of course, Luke didn’t frequent the country club. This was foreign territory. No dartboards. No pool tables. No neon lights advertising beer. No babes in leather bustiers.
Just as he’d anticipated, the lighting in the ballroom consisted of candles on small, white-clothed tables scattered around the dance floor perimeter. A cash bar in one corner did a steady business. He headed the other way. The less contact he had with people, the less likely he was to blow his disguise. Whoever was supposed to make contact with Adam, would surely seek him out. The safest way to avoid conversation was to hit the dance floor, Luke reasoned as he steered Olivia in that direction. And quite frankly, the prospect of holding her close didn’t pose a hardship.
The microphone hummed as the song ended and the band’s singer stepped up. “We’re going to slow it down before we take a break.”
The music began and Olivia turned into his arms with a quiet smile that slammed his heart against his ribs. Unfortunately, her smile was intended for his brother.
“I know you don’t like to dance, but I’m glad we’re out here,” she murmured as he clasped her hand, small and delicate, against his chest. She cupped his shoulder with her other hand. He didn’t dance much and certainly not with women like Olivia. She felt amazingly right in his embrace.
He was far happier to know Adam had never held her like this than he should’ve been.
“You inspire me.” He pulled her a fraction closer, achingly aware of her soft curves beneath the stiff starch of her dress. She radiated classy elegance. She’d been too good for him years ago when he’d stolen a kiss. She was still out of his league.
Behind the black velvet mask trimmed in feathers, her gray eyes studied him intently, almost squinting. Did she recognize he wasn’t Adam? No. He wanted to continue to hold her in his arms and sway to the sultry song. “What is it?”
Tugging her hand free of his, she reached up and rubbed the pad of her thumb against the edge of his upper lip. “I branded you with my lipstick.”
To hell with the lipstick, her touch branded him. Her hands drifted farther up, resting between his shoulders and his neck, touching his bare flesh. He’d seen fine-looking women naked and not been nearly as turned on as he was now.
Luke traced his finger along the satin skin near her lips.
“Am I smeared?” Her voice resonated low and husky, her breath warm and moist against his finger.
She wasn’t, but it offered a good excuse to touch her mouth. He lingered, tempted by the fullness of her lips and the memory of their recent kiss. “No, they’re perfect.”
Behind her mask, her gray eyes flirted, as she tilted her head coquettishly. “My Lord Pirate, your flattery goes to my head.” Her fingers cupped the nape of his neck. His belly clenched in response.
“And your nearness goes to mine, Lady Olivia.” Both of his heads.
With a sigh, she melted against him. This was the woman his brother referred to as the “ice princess”? Once again, he was fiercely glad Adam seemed oblivious to the passion that simmered just below her surface, that lit the seductive light in her eyes.
Silently swaying to the music, Luke absorbed Olivia. Her sensual mouth so at odds with the angular lines of her face. The graceful length of her neck that begged to be nibbled. The alabaster mounds of her breasts teasing at her neckline. The curve of her waist beneath his hand. The errant brush of her nipples against his chest. Her subtle fragrance wove about him, tantalizing and exotic. She was a hidden treasure and he knew just the pirate to explore her.
A giant marshmallow dancing with a peanut M&M’s bumped into him, jostling Olivia enough to bring her head up off his shoulder.
“Sorry, Adam. Olivia,” the marshmallow stammered an apology.
Luke managed not to glare at Mr. Sta-Puf as he steered in the opposite direction. For a few, brief minutes he’d forgotten Olivia was only in his arms on sufferance.
“I forgot to tell you earlier, Jeff was looking for you.” The feathers trimming her mask tickled against his chin. Fine strands of her hair brushed his cheek like dark silk.
“Good old Jeff.” Who the hell was Jeff? Obviously someone he should know, so he could hardly ask Olivia to point him out. Was he Adam’s contact at the party?
The song ended. Couples drifted off the crowded floor as the band dispersed for a break. He twined his fingers through Olivia’s, reluctant to release her.
