Low Country Liar

by Janet Dailey

  "Mitzi is my aunt and that makes your presence here my business," she retorted.

  "The lawyer-client relationship doesn't recognize your right." His mouth twisted cynically. "If you have one."

  "Where's Mitzi?" Lisa demanded.

  "She misplaced her glasses and is off looking for them." He caught her gaze and held it. "Why don't you come down and entertain me?"

  "I'm not dr —" The word "dressed" died on her lips. She was not usually so slow on the uptake. The entertainment he had meant didn't require clothes, as his throaty chuckle mockingly told her. "You're disgusting," she hissed.

  But Slade appeared to ignore her insulting comment. His dark head was tipped slightly to the side, studying her with a seemingly new-found interest, puzzled and curious.

  "There's something different about you," he drawled thoughtfully. "Maybe it's in your eyes, minus their sunglasses."

  Lisa stiffened. He couldn't see the color of her eyes at this distance, not with the length of the staircase separating them. But his remark acted like a cold splash of ice water.

  "There's nothing different about you!" she flashed defensively. "Tell Mitzi I'll be down when you leave."

  Pivoting on her heel, she hurriedly retraced the way to her bedroom, trembling with delayed shock. That had been close, much too close.

  Slade's appearance changed Lisa's mind about lounging around the house in her robe. In her room, she slipped out of the robe and put on a pair of pale yellow slacks and a blouse of a green and yellow print. She waited until she heard the front door close before venturing downstairs again. Mitzi was alone in the living room when Lisa entered it.

  "You look better. How do you feel?" Mitzi walked to the wooden trolley cart and fixed Lisa a drink.

  "Much better." Especially now that Slade was gone, Lisa settled into the orange-and rust-colored brocade chair. Slade's refusal to say why he had wanted to see Mitzi prompted Lisa to ask, "What did Slade want?" She didn't mention that she had spoken to him.

  "He stopped over with some legal papers that needed my signature," her aunt explained.

  "Oh?" Lisa took the drink her aunt brought her and sipped at it, wishing she had gotten a glimpse at those papers. "What kind of document was it? You did it read it before you signed it, didn't you?" she questioned, suddenly wary.

  "I read it, but all that legal jargon is just so much mishmash. Who can understand it? If I wrote my novels like that, the readers would never be able to figure out the plot," Mitzi laughed with absolute unconcern.

  "Do you mean that you don't know what you signed?" Lisa accused in astonishment.

  "Slade explained it all to me," came the smooth assurance, which didn't reassure Lisa at all. Mitzi lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm setting up a retirement fund for Mildred. Nothing very large, mind you, but something that will supplement her government pension when she reaches old age. She has been so loyal to me, and a friend, us well, despite her crabbiness. She's a regular skinflint, but I know she hasn't been able to put very much aside. This retirement program seemed a good way to help her without making it look like charity. Slade agreed when I mentioned it to him."

  "I see." It sounded harmless. Lisa hoped it was.

  Mitzi leaned back in her chair. "Tell me, what all did you see today?"

  Lisa dreaded having to come up with more lies. She took a deep breath and tried to come up with a story that wouldn't trip her up.

  "After breakfast, we took a carriage ride." Since that was one thing she had promised herself she would do. "The driver took us all around. As a matter of fact, we came right by here."

  "I wish you had stopped for coffee. I would like to have met your friends. You are welcome to have them over anytime," Mitzi said.

  "I thought about bringing them in," she lied, "but I knew you were busy with your new novel. By the way, how is it coming along?"

  "Marvelously." Her aunt's face seemed to light up with excitement. "I'm getting to what I call the 'good' part. It's where the plot begins to thicken, if you'll pardon the use of a cliché." She began explaining the twists and tarns of the plot, the element of suspense that was beginning to build, and the characters.

  The rest of the evening Lisa adroitly maneuvered the conversation to focus on Mitzi's interests and avoided telling more lies about places she had supposedly seen. That night in bed, she questioned how much longer she was going to be able to get away with this deception. It seemed that only time would tell.

  LISA LEANED OVER her typewriter when Slade walked out of his private office, pretending to read over the partially typed letter. He paused briefly beside her desk.

  "I'm going to lunch now, Mrs. Eldridge. I'll be back shortly after one," he informed her.

  After her near unmasking last night, Lisa took pains to avoid looking directly at him just in case some expression or gesture struck a familiar note. Even now when he was addressing her directly, she kept her head turned down, feigning a concentration in her work.

  "Yes, Mr. Blackwell," she replied in a deliberately absent manner.

  When he walked away, her green eyes followed him through the concealing veil of her sooty lashes. His day's calendar of appointments had indicated a business luncheon, but he wasn't carrying his briefcase. She breathed in deeply, knowing it meant it was still in his office.

  From the reception area, she could hear him speaking to Drew. Hurriedly she began typing, removing the finished letter from the typewriter just as she heard the street door open and close. Slade was gone.

  Lisa quickly separated the carbon copy of the letter from the original and set it aside. Taking the original and gathering up the other correspondence ready for his signature, she darted into his office.

  The expensively tooled briefcase was on the floor behind the large swivel chair at his desk. Lisa shoved the papers on top of his desk and bent to open the briefcase. Her hands shook badly as she unsnapped the latch.

  She felt like a thief and had to remind herself that Slade was the real thief. Still, her hearing was acutely tuned to any sound of invasion from the outer office.

  Her aunt's file was not in the briefcase. Lisa rose in irritation, looking at the endless stacks of papers and folders on his desk. She began riffling through them, searching for her particular needle in the haystack of papers.

  "What are you doing, Mrs. Eldridge?" Slade's cold voice demanded.

  Lisa froze for a panicked second, staring in disbelief that he could have approached so soundlessly. There was a ruthlessly hard look to his black eyes that made her toes curl.

  Nervously she moistened her lips and tried to smile. "I brought some letters in for your signature." But that didn't explain what she was doing going through the other papers and his silence reminded her of it. "Your desk was in such a mess, I thought I'd straighten it."

  "Thank you." Polite words without any sincerity. "But I prefer the mess," he stated icily. "Strange as it may seem to you, I know where everything is."

  "I'm sorry." Lisa backed away from the desk, self-consciously aware of her foot bumping against his briefcase. A few moments earlier and she would have had a great deal more to explain. "I only meant to be helpful."

  "In the future, confine your help to the outer office," Slade replied crisply, but apparently accepting her explanation. "Would you hand me my briefcase?"

  "Of course." To give it to him, Lisa had to walk around the desk, her nerves leaping in awareness.

  "It's nearly noon. Since you have the letters done, you might as well take your lunch break now." With case in hand, Slade courteously, stepped to the side to let her precede him.

  "I will," she agreed.

  Any hope of going through his office at noon vanished as he waited expectantly in her outer office. Haphazardly she tidied her desk, gathered her handbag and spring jacket and led the way out of the building. In the street, they parted company with Slade issuing only a curt nod.

  Lisa worked late, but Slade worked later. It was after six when she das
hed into Mitzi's house. Her aunt was nowhere in sight, and Lisa was given a reprieve from explaining where she had been all day.

  She had less than an hour to get ready before Slade arrived to take her and Mitzi to dinner. After undressing and bathing in record time, she reapplied her makeup and hurried to the closet.

  Her choice of clothes was limited to the blue dress she had worn before and a satiny pantsuit in an unusual champagne shade, very nearly the color of her pale blond hair. A touch of vanity made her pick the pantsuit rather than wear something Slade had already seen. Lastly, she set the smoke blue sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, disguising the jewel green of her eyes.

  At ten past seven, she hurried from her room to find Shade waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm sorry I'm late." There was a hint of breathlessness in her voice — due entirely to the haste in getting ready, she was certain.

  "That's quite all right." His hand took possession of her elbow, not letting her slacken her pace. "My car is outside." As he reached around her to open the door, his dark gaze skimmed her face. Her eyes were securely masked from his inspection by the sunglasses perched on her nose. "I see you're back to the sunglasses again."

  "I did too much sight-seeing today." The story she had rehearsed for Mitzi sprang immediately to her lips.

  "You seem to have a tendency to overdo things," Slade commented dryly.

  You can say that again, Lisa thought. What had begun as innocent concern for her aunt had turned into a full-scale spying operation. It would be humorous if she wasn't so deeply ensnared in her own trap. But never in her life had she been half way involved in anything. It was always all or nothing.

  The fragrant blossoms of the azaleas scented the dusk, their vibrant colors muted by the waning light. The bearded oaks cast dark Shadows on the Lincoln Mark V parked in the driveway parallel to the portico entrance.

  "I'll sit in the back. Mitzi can have the front seat," Lisa volunteered as Slade stepped ahead of her to open the car door. She intended to be a mouse in the corner that evening, observing, saying as little as possible.

  "It's too late," he announced, more or less propelling her into the empty front seat and closing the door.

  Turning in the plushy molded seat covered in a rich, midnight-blue velour, Lisa said, "Mitzi, I —" There was no one in the back seat. "Where's Mitzi?" she demanded of Slade as he slid behind the wheel.

  "She's not coming." The key was in the ignition and being turned.

  "What?" Stunned, Lisa stared at his boldly defined profile. "Why not?"

  "Something to do with her heroine being in danger and she couldn't leave her novel until the hero had managed to rescue the girl." He shifted the car into gear, not sparing a glance in Lisa's direction.

  "You put Mitzi up to this!" she accused in an angry hiss.

  "I know you think I have unlimited power over Mitzi —" the look he flicked to her glinted with mockery "— but contrary to your belief, I have no control over the machinations of her writing. Nothing short of the end of the world could have dragged Mitzi away from the typewriter tonight."

  "And I'm supposed to believe that?"

  "I don't particularly care," he said with an expressively indifferent lift of his shoulder.

  "Well, I'm certainly not going out alone with you!" Then Lisa realized the car was moving, its powerful motor purring almost silently as they glided through the narrow streets. They were easily two blocks from Mitzi's house. "You can turn this car right around and take me back," she ordered stiffly.

  "No."

  She grabbed at the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. "Unlock this door!"

  "No."

  Lisa was furious. She fumbled along the armrest, seeking the power lock control for her door. The seat moved with one switch; the window rolled down with another before she heard the click of the door.

  As she reached for the handle, her arm was caught in a vice. She tried to twist away from the grip and it slid along the satin-smooth material of her long sleeve. Then her hand was swallowed in the engulfing hold of his.

  "Let me go!"

  "You could at least wait until I stopped the car," Slade taunted. "Or are you intent on breaking your neck?"

  "Then stop it!" She was rigidly aware of the strength of his large hand. With the slightest pressure, he could break the slender bones in her hand and fingers, yet there was no pain.

  "I can't stop here, I have a car behind me. You'll have to wait until I can pull over," he reasoned with irritating calm.

  The street didn't widen until they turned onto Battery. Slade kept a firm hold of her hand until he had parked the car next to the curb. The instant he released her Lisa was out of the car in a flash, only to hear the motor switched off and his car door slam.

  She darted into White Point Garden, hoping to lose herself in the dark shadows under the trees, but the pale, shiny material of her pantsuit was like a beacon in the darkness. He was at her side within seconds, capturing her wrist to slow her down.

  She spun around. "I thought I'd make it plain that I don't want your company. I wouldn't go to heaven with you!"

  "You're overdoing the dramatics, Lisa." His tone was dry with indulgence.

  "If I am, it's because you drive me to it," she snapped. "You know very well that the only reason I agreed to this dinner tonight was because of Mitzi. That's why you manhandled me into the car and drove off without warning me in advance that she'd begged off. Whatever made you think I would agree to go out alone with an embezzler like you?"

  "To talk."

  "About what? What a low, despicable character I think you are?" Lisa strained against his hold on her wrist, trembling with the ferocity of her anger.

  "I have a red-haired secretary who is better tempered than you are," Slade laughed. It was a low mocking sound.

  For a split second, alarm kept her silent. "Take her out to dinner, then. I'm sure it really doesn't matter to you that she's married. All that regret about her ineligibility was just for Mitzi's benefit."

  "You see right through me, don't you?" His remark was riddled with amusement.

  "Yes, and I don't like what I see."

  "That's a pity, because I like what I see." He loomed closer, his dark head shadowing her face.

  Lisa retreated instinctively, remembering his avenging kiss in the study. He followed as she continued to back up warily until her shoulders were pressed against the rough bark of a tree trunk. Her breath was coming unevenly, yet she wasn't exactly afraid.

  There were others wandering in the park, and not even Slade Blackwell would accost her in a public place. Not releasing her wrist, he brought his other arm up to lean a hand against the trunk near her head.

  His nearness was having its effect on her senses, though. The musky fragrance of his shaving lotion was an erotic stimulant, wafting near her face in an enveloping cloud. There was a latent sensuality to his disturbing masculinity, His near-black eyes were lazily focused on her lips, moistened in nervousness. Lisa was left in little doubt as to what direction his interest was taking. Her pulse refused to behave normally, skipping beats when she needed most to remain calm.

  "I've had time to think about our conversation — or should I call it confrontation — the other night." There was a decidedly caressing tone to his low voice. His thumb slid beneath the cuff of her sleeve to the inside of her wrist, rubbing her pulse point with disturbing results.

  "What about it?" Lisa had to swallow the breathless catch in her voice.

  "I've decided that it's mutually defeating to declare war on each other."

  The lazy softening of his hard mouth into a smile was a bit too potent in its charm for Lisa to handle. She looked beyond him to the dark mound of a cannon, a relic of the Civil War permanently mounted in the garden. Its barrel pointed across the bay waters to the distant fortress of Fort Sumter.

  "What are you suggesting?" There, Lisa sighed inwardly. She sounded much more in control of herself when she issued that question.

 
"That we effect a compromise."

  "What kind?" The smoke blue lenses of her glasses shaded the green of her eyes, but they didn't lessen the sharpness of the look she darted at Slade.

  "The kind that lets us join forces."

  "Impossible!"

  "Why is it impossible?" Slade argued smoothly. "Why should we keep fighting one another? We'd both end up losing."

  He still believed she was intervening because she wanted Mitzi's money. That was what he wanted, and he obviously believed it was the only thing she was interested in Lisa hesitated. Perhaps this was another way of gaining the proof against him that she needed.

  Slade noticed her hesitation and pressed his advantage. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

  "Perhaps," Lisa conceded, at least temporarily until she could think his suggestion through. She moved her wrist slightly against his hold. "Please, I'd like to walk." What she really needed waste get some distance between them so she could think clearly.

  Obligingly Slade released her wrist and fell in step beside her when she pushed away from the tree trunk. But she didn't obtain the complete separation she desired. Vaguely possessive, his hand rested on the lower curve of her spine. The smooth material made his touch seem all the more sensuous against her skin.

  She was much too aware of the man at her side, aware of him as a man. She had to remind herself of the character of the man beneath the tall, muscular physique. If she had needed any confirmation, she had received it a moment ago when he had suggested they work together to obtain Mitzi's money. She almost had to agree to go along with hint so she could prove to Mitzi what Slade Blackwell really was.

  Her attention shifted to the body of water glistening ahead of her in the twilight. The White Point Garden was located virtually on the tip of the peninsula of Old Charleston. Lisa's steps faltered, slowing almost tea stop as she stared at the water.

  The surface was smooth and reflecting, giving no indication of the current flowing underneath. It reminded her of Slade. She had no idea what was going on inside his mind.