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Wife By Deception
Donna Sterling
TwinsNow you see me–now you don' tWhen her flashy, adventurous, identical twin is killed in a car crash, Tallahassee college professor Kate Jones is left with her twin' s infant daughter. Kate knows almost nothing about the little girl' s father–just that his name is Mitch and her sister left him because he was " mean." Kate loves her niece, and she' ll do whatever is necessary to make sure Arianne is raised happy and healthy. That includes pretending to be her own twin when Mitch suddenly appears, so she can find out what her brother-in-law plans for his child.Mitch Devereaux, a Cajun shrimp boat captain for whom family is all, regrets his unhappy marriage, but he adores his little girl. When his wife flees with their daughter, ignoring a joint-custody arrangement, he tracks her down and hauls her back to Louisiana, determined to have her face a judge.But the woman he abducts is so different from the woman he married. And Kate' s captor is so different from the man she' d heard about….
“What do you want?” Kate asked
“I want what’s mine.”
“And what,” she asked haltingly, “do you consider yours?”
“Don’t worry, chèr’. Not you… I meant my daughter.”
The world tilted crazily around her. He had to be Mitch. Her sister’s husband.
She had to come up with a plan. She couldn’t let this stranger carry her niece off to an unknown future. Yet what could she do? She had no idea where he’d sent the little girl…had no idea where he lived.
If he disappeared now, she might never find Arianne again.
Should she tell him her twin had died? Perhaps he’d soften and handle the matter with compassion and reason. Then again, he might simply leave, glad to be rid of his ex-wife once and for all.
“Pack a suitcase for Arianne,” he ordered her, interrupting her thoughts, “and one for yourself. We have a date with a judge. You left before our divorce was final. And guess what? The attorney you hired hadn’t even passed the bar yet. He had no authority to act on your behalf. Nothing he handled was valid.”
Kate stared at him. That meant… Oh, God, this man was Camryn’s husband. And now he believed her to be his wife!
Dear Reader,
I wrote this book with deep affection for the offshore shrimpers in the Gulf of Mexico—men who face incredible dangers in their work, and do so with pride, a strict code of honor and an uncanny communion with nature. During my eighteen months of living and working on a commercial trawler named the Lady Leone, I came to admire Gulf shrimpers as true masters of the sea.
The hero of this book, Mitch Devereaux, is one of this breed, and of another proud race—the Cajuns of Louisiana. They’re known for their strong family ties; distinctive music, food and dance; making a living off the land, swamp and sea; and an abiding love of a good party. They value zest for life, or, as they call it, joie de vivre. Mitch, however, lost his joie de vivre when his estranged wife ran off with his daughter. Nothing will stop him from tracking them down, bringing them home and forcing his wife to honor their joint-custody agreement.
Little does Mitch know that the woman he finds with his daughter is not his wife, but her identical twin, intent on protecting the baby she loves. This is the story of how Mitch regains his joie de vivre, and how Kate Jones finds the precious spice that has been missing from her life.
As you curl up in a comfy chair to read their story, I hope you laissez les bons temps rouler. A Cajun motto, it means, “Let the good times roll!”
Sincerely,
Donna Sterling
Wife by Deception
Donna Sterling
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
I dedicate this to the Kozma clan, especially Eddie,
for “reading every word”; Kenny, for getting me to
the express mail office in time; and Michelle,
for venturing with me into the swampland…
and the Cajun dance hall. We passed a good time, chèr’.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to Ron “Black” Guidry, for his swamp tour;
Jesse Lecompte Jr., for answering questions; Doug Lambert,
who has a great little shop in the French Quarter;
and Joe Cruse of The Stormy Seas, who will always
have a place in my heart. And special thanks to
Jacquie D’Alessandro, Susan Goggins, Carina Rock
and Ann White, for their insightful critiques.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PROLOGUE
Tallahassee, Florida
Early January
CAMRYN LISTENED for sounds in the early-morning stillness of her sister’s household. She heard only the patter of rain on the roof and the rustling of Florida wind through the palm tree near her window. No one seemed to be awake.
She climbed out of bed in stealthy silence.
Today was the day she’d hit the road for New York City. And Kate would discover she had a baby to watch for the next couple of weeks. Kate Jones, Ph.D., college professor, no less, should be able to figure out how to take care of a three-month-old.
Quietly Camryn dressed in the dark. The baby had bawled for hours after she’d brought her to Kate’s house last night. Stunned to learn of her niece’s existence, Kate had insisted they spend the night, then took charge of rocking, feeding and soothing the baby.
Camryn had expected she would. Despite the years they’d spent apart, she knew her sister. They were, after all, identical twins, and the only family each other had…other than the baby now. Kate would take good care of her until Camryn returned. She would have asked her to baby-sit if she hadn’t been afraid Kate would put a kink in her plans. Much safer to force her cooperation.
After gathering her purse, her suitcase and Kate’s car keys, Camryn tiptoed through the darkened house, tossed a letter onto the kitchen table, then hurried outside through the chill January rain to Kate’s rather stodgy BMW. Camryn’s Mustang convertible had given her problems. She didn’t trust it on another long road trip. The BMW would have to do.
Moments later, she turned out of the elegant Tallahassee subdivision and onto the open highway, headed for New York City…and television stardom. Prime-time soaps, here I come! Everyone who knew anything about show business had assured her that the soap opera producers would take one look at the pictures of her with the baby and write them both into the script—mother and daughter. Her exceptionally gorgeous baby girl was just the gimmick she’d always needed to break into show business big-time.
And once she did, she’d have the means to solve her other problems, too. The one that had been driving her nuts lately was the need for a baby-sitter. The crying, the smelly diapers, the continual demand for attention were more than she could take. She’d originally intended to bring Arianne with her to New York right away, but after a hellish time on the road, she’d decided to leave Arianne with Kate, then come back for her after she made the all-important contacts and found a place to live near the studios.
Being free for a while felt good. Who knew mothering would be so difficult? She’d thought it would be an adventure…a new, exciting phase in her life. Movies and television had made motherhood seem so desirable. So…easy. And while her ex and his family had been around to help, it hadn’t seemed too difficult.
But the weeks since she’d struck out on her own had been torture. She supposed it wouldn’t have been as bad if she hadn’t lost all her money at poker. She’d had to take a singing gig in Atlanta, which hadn’t paid enough for her to hire a baby-sitter and recoup her losses. She’d brought the baby to the club with her every evening until the manager put an end to it…and to Camryn’s job.
She wasn’t about to let Mitch know she needed help, though.
Give me full custody of her, Cam. Arianne would be better off.
Her hand clenched the steering wheel and she fumbled to light a cigarette. Flicking her gold lighter with a vengeance, she tossed her heavy blond hair over one shoulder and leaned toward the flame. Her professionally manicured nails shimmered crimson in the flickering light; her jeweled rings and bracelets flashed. She drew in a biting lungful of smoke.
She’d be damned if she’d give up her rights in their joint-custody arrangement. In fact, when she had more money, she’d take him to court for full custody. Arianne was her ticket to stardom. But she couldn’t let Mitch know about her plans, of course, until contracts were signed with the television producers. Otherwise, he’d try to stop her.
Mitch was touchy when it came to Arianne. He’d made a big deal out of every mistake. Like when Camryn had taken the baby to New Orleans one night. If she’d known the crowd in the French Quarter would grow wild, she wouldn’t have had all those margaritas. Even so, she’d been perfectly capable of handling the situation…except for the bail money, which, admittedly, Mitch had to bring. The public drunkenness charge had been so unfair.
And then there was the time she’d left Arianne in the car while she placed a few quick bets at a casino. The security guard had called the phone number listed on the car’s registration. Mitch had answered…then blew the whole incident way out of proportion. He told her that he would start proceedings to take her custody rights away from her.
She changed the phone number and address on the car’s registration information the very next day. Mitch and she were divorced, damn it. What she did or where she went was none of his business. Later, after she’d left town in the dead of night with Arianne, she’d traded that car—her beloved ’Vette—for the Mustang in Birmingham. She hoped the switch would stop Mitch from tracking her down.
He might not appreciate her style of parenting, but she was still Arianne’s mother. She had sacrificed her flawless figure and several months of her singing career to bring her into this world. For a few of those months, she’d even given up drinking and smoking. Or most of it, anyway. The baby was hers, and she’d take her wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted.
She wondered how Mitch had reacted to finding them gone. He was probably furious.
Served him right. He’d changed drastically from the first few weeks she’d known him. They’d had great times together at the start. But then she got pregnant, and he insisted she marry him. And all the fun stopped. He no longer tried to please her. All he cared about was the baby. Oh, and his precious shrimp boats.
Well, that was where he’d made his mistake. If he didn’t care about pleasing her, he wasn’t going to have his daughter.
Besides, she had plans for Arianne. Big plans. She and Arianne were going to be television stars. Then she’d have money to hire a full-time nanny, as well as a powerful attorney to represent her in a custody hearing.
Feeling empowered, she took the next curve faster, leaning with the wheel to keep the car on the road. The effort won her a dark thrill. Things were definitely looking up.
She hoped Kate wouldn’t be too angry that she’d left the baby with her. Kate had already been upset that Camryn hadn’t contacted her about her marriage or the birth of her daughter. In a way, Kate herself was to blame for Camryn’s failure to call her. She was always telling Camryn what to do. Even when they were growing up in the Tallahassee Methodist Children’s Home, Kate had tried to run the show. She had such strong views on “what’s best.” Few people had the strength to swim against that particular tide. She’d wear a person down before he knew the fight had even begun.
Like when she persuaded Camryn’s first husband to turn himself in and serve out his sentence for insurance fraud. Or when she talked her second husband into admitting he was sleeping around. Could anyone blame her for hesitating to tell Kate about her third marriage?
She hadn’t even mentioned to Mitch that she had a sister, let alone an identical twin, for fear that if they met, Kate would complicate matters. Camryn had been careful not to tell Kate much about Mitch, either…especially that he’d been granted joint custody. She might feel obligated to contact him.
Disturbed at the thought, Camryn pressed harder on the gas and took the curve in the slick, two-lane highway a little faster than she’d intended. The tires hydroplaned, and she fought to keep the BMW from fishtailing into the woods. Fear heated her insides. Her mouth filled with an acrid taste. Exhilaration gunned through her. Aah, what a rush!
She was feeling alive again! She wanted to celebrate. Maybe she’d stop at a convenience store for a wine cooler.
The next curve in the road came quicker than she expected, though, and she veered across the center line. She barely had time to focus on the oncoming headlights before her world spun…and screeched…and rolled…
And ended in thunderous conflagration.
CHAPTER ONE
Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana
July 4
THE CALL CAME during the Fourth of July crawfish boil in his parents’ front yard on the bayou. The cell phone in his shirt pocket rang, and Mitch’s heart paused.
No one but the detective would call him on this phone. The captains and crew members of his shrimp boats didn’t know the number; they always contacted him by the radio he wore on his belt. So did his neighbors on the swamp. It had to be Chuck Arceneaux, the investigator he’d hired. And if the call wasn’t urgent, Chuck would have left a message on his home answering machine.
The adults at the long picnic table fell silent, their gazes shifting to Mitch. They knew the significance of that ringing cell phone. His brawny, apron-clad father turned from the simmering crawfish kettle to watch him in sober expectation. His mother froze in the act of ladling jambalaya from a huge serving bowl, her eyes widening with hope and fear. The children seemed to sense the sudden tension, and all but the youngest of his nieces, nephews and cousins quieted. Even the hot Louisiana breeze seemed to halt its sighing through the willows and moss-draped cypress trees.
Mitch drew the phone from his pocket and answered it.
The investigator’s flat, nasal voice greeted him. “All the dough you’ve been shelling out for those mailers finally paid off, Mitch. We got a possible lead.”
A possible lead. Mitch shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, overcome with relief that the news hadn’t been bad. Immediately following that relief came disappointment that the news hadn’t been better. He’d been praying so damn long for the words I’ve found your daughter. She’s okay. “What kind of lead, Chuck?”
“A man in Florida said he recognized a neighbor from the photos on a mailer. Said she goes by the name Kate Jones. He doesn’t know much more than that about her. I’ve been staked out in front of the house, and a few minutes ago, a blonde stepped out onto the porch. She looks a lot like your wife.”
Mitch grimaced at the term. He’d have preferred “ex-wife,” although it wasn’t technically correct. Camryn had taken off before they’d corrected major glitches in their divorce proceedings. Legally, they were still married—a situation he would remedy the moment he got his daughter back from her and knew that he’d be awarded custody. Full custody, this time. “Does she have a baby with her?”
“Haven’t seen one yet, but I noticed a stroller in the garage.”
Mitch’s blood roared in his ears with a fierce surge of hope. Please, God, let it be Camryn. And let Arianne be with her, safe and sound. “Watch her. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“This gal ain’t going nowhere without me on her tail.”
