by Janet Dailey
"The Ashley River," Slade quietly identified the body of water. "This is where the Ashley and the Cooper rivers flow together to form the Atlantic Ocean," he explained, voicing the whimsical tongue-in-cheek claim of the Charlestonians.
"I'm not interested in a geography lesson," Lisa returned impatiently, She turned to face him, tipping her head back slightly to see his features. "How do I know I can trust you?"
"How do I know I can trust you?" he countered.
"That's not an answer."
"The answer is we would have to trust each other."
"Honor among thieves and all that?" Lisa taunted sarcastically. "You don't know the meaning of the word honor."
"Do you?"
"I am not Mitzi's attorney bound by law to protect her interests," she reminded him.
"No, you're Mitzi's niece. Shall we begin comparing the blackness of the pot and the kettle?" Slade challenged dryly.
Her lips tightened grimly as she looked away. "You can't honestly expect me to forget your crude behavior the other night. No," she shook her head in agitation, "it would never work."
"You were the one who started the hostilities, Lisa."
"Because I slapped your face?"
"Didn't your mother ever teach you that you could win more friends with flattery? Or wasn't I supposed to catch the veiled insults you threw at me all that evening?
"That was not an excuse for you to manhandle me," she snapped.
He was calmly and deliberately baiting her and, fool that she was, she was rising to snap at it. She breathed in deeply. She would not let him make her lose her temper.
"No, it wasn't an excuse, but —" Slade paused for effect "— it was only a kiss."
"Is that what you call it?" The retort was out before she could stop it.
"Issued in a moment of anger, I'll admit," he answered, revealing only amusement at her gibe.
"To put it mildly," Lisa snapped.
"You provoked that anger, to put it mildly," Slade mocked her.
"If that's the way you feel, why this sudden change?"
"With each of us tearing at Mitzi trying to convince her the other is no good, no matter which way it goes, we're going to end up putting doubt in her mind about each of us," he reasoned.
"And a third party could end up with all the money." Lisa followed the thought to its logical conclusion.
"Unless we come to an agreement," he added. "Very well, tell me more about this agreement you want me to make," she breathed in decision.
"We'll discuss it after dinner." Slade smiled, the pressure increasing on the back of her waist as he turned toward the car. "I booked a table for seven-thirty. We're late, but I'm sure they'll hold our reservations for us. In the meantime, let's call a truce."
"A truce?" Lisa laughed in disbelief. "Are you serious?"
"Naturally I'm serious," he said, guiding her past a tall magnolia. "You need time to get used to the idea of trusting me."
"I doubt if I ever will," Lisa said, and meant it.
"You've made progress," he commented.
"Why?"
"Because you said 'doubt,' before you simply made it a flat statement that you never would." A glitter of arrogant complacency was in his look.
"A technicality," she dismissed the argument.
"Remember?" A dark brow arched in wry amusement. "My profession deals in technicalities."
"I'm afraid you're indulging in a bit of wishful thinking," Lisa denied a bit more sharply than she had intended.
Slade glanced at her as he reached to open the passenger door of the car. He didn't say anything, just let a faint smile touch the edge of his mouth.
Chapter Six
CONTENTED, LISA DECIDED — that was the only word to describe the way she felt. The restaurant was sumptuously elegant yet relaxing at the same time, two qualities that did not necessarily go hand in hand.
The food had been excellent and her head was a bit fuzzy from the wine, but it was a pleasurable kind of fuzziness. She took another sip of the dry white wine in the stemmed glass. Soft music played in the background, gently romantic, setting the mood.
The table was small, intimately so with Slade sitting directly across from her. Lisa studied him openly, the intensity of her green gaze masked by the tinted lenses of her glasses. His roguishly thick mane of hair had a raven sheen to it, his eyes like black diamonds glittered with an inner fire.
His tanned features could have been chiseled in stone, yet they were so very male and so very compelling. Stone was wrong; no stone could ever possess the vitality that Slade had.
That vitality and charm had been working its magic on Lisa all evening. Slade's particular brand of charm was more potent than others she had known because it was so subtle. He didn't use an ounce of flattery, yet he made Lisa feel so good inside. It made him dangerous, but at the moment she was in the mood to flirt with danger.
It was crazy the way her mind was capable of dividing itself. One part of it was thinking about him, analyzing the things about him that set him apart from ordinary men. Another part was registering every word he said so she could make the appropriate responses when they were required.
The third part of her mind was noting other things about him. She liked the low pitch of his voice, smooth and rich like velvet. And she liked the way the corners of his mouth deepened when he thought something was amusing but didn't openly smile.
He said something dryly funny and Lisa laughed. "I was beginning to think you'd drifted away somewhere. You should laugh like that more often." A slow smile spread across his mouth, making an impact on her pulse.
"And you should smile like that more often," she returned, aware of the husky tremor in her voice, but not caring.
"We're beginning to sound like a mutual admiration society," Slade pointed out dryly, amused and mocking.
"Mitzi would be astounded," Lisa declared laughingly.
"I doubt it. Knowing Mitzi and her penchant for happy endings, she would find a romantically logical reason." Instantly something flashed across his face — a look of irritation or impatience, but Lisa couldn't be sure which. "Mildred mentioned that you'd barely returned to the house when I arrived. You were out sight-seeing with your friends?" The subject was deftly changed.
Lisa wondered why. Surely Slade didn't think she was becoming romantically attracted to him. Well, wasn't she, a small voice jeered. Wasn't she just a little bit curious what it would be like if he made love to her? She was afraid any answer she gave would be self-incriminating and she tried to ignore the questions.
"I was out with Peg and Susan for part of the day," she lied. "I browsed through the shops in the morning and the three of us went sightseeing in the afternoon."
"Where did you go?"
She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before she remembered a brochure she had seen. "Brook-green Gardens. The statuary there is breathtaking. Unfortunately we got caught in the rush-hour traffic on the way back — that's why I was so late."
"There are some very fine American sculptors represented there," Slade agreed. "Which was your favorite?"
Was he testing her? Lisa wondered, then decided not. "They were all so beautiful it's impossible to pick one," she hedged.
"True. Brookgreen Gardens is very impressive, especially with its avenue of live oaks."
"Yes, isn't it?" Lisa smiled.
"Shall we go?" Slade asked unexpectedly. "I believe the restaurant is closing."
"What?" Lisa glanced around, surprised to see only two other tables occupied in the dining room. "Yes, of course."
As she reached for her handbag, Slade moved to the back of her chair. "It was a delicious meal. Thank you," she offered, rising as he held the chair out.
"My pleasure." But there was something distant in his reply.
The car was parked nearly a block away. Slade insisted that Lisa wait outside the restaurant for him to bring it around. As his long, smooth strides carried him away, she shivered slightly, feeling she
had been abandoned to the cool of the evening.
Flames from the torches mounted on the building front flickered over the brick walls and the boarded, arched windows. Lisa shifted nearer to their light just as the sleek Lincoln drove up to the curb in front of the restaurant.
There was no indication of the chilling aloofness she thought she had detected in Slade moments earlier. She decided it must have been her imagination that made her think he had suddenly withdrawn. There was nothing cool about his attitude as he helped her into the passenger seat. In fact, his smile was quite disarming when he turned to her after sliding behind the wheel.
"Would you like to go directly back to Mitzi's or do you want to take a driving tour of Old Charleston by night?" Slade asked.
It was late and she would have to be up early to get to the office. The wisest choice would be to go directly to Mitzi's, but she heard her voice opting for the second choice.
"The driving tour."
She was crazy, she thought, settling back in her seat and smiling at herself. She disliked Slade yet she was dangerously attracted to him. She should feel wary instead of so contented.
"Why the smile?" He slowed the car as it turned a corner on to a rough, cobblestoned street.
"It must he the afterglow of good wine," Lisa sighed, confused by the change without really caring.
"I noticed it mellowed your temper."
"Yours, too," she countered, and glanced out the window.
The street they were on ran along the waterfront. On the opposite side of the docks were brightly painted old houses abutting each other. "How odd! Look." She pointed them out to Slade. "Each one is painted a different color."
He sent her a curious look. "That's Rainbow Row. I thought you'd been touring Charleston these past few days. How did you miss Rainbow Row?"
"Oh —" Lisa breathed in nervously, running the tip of her tongue over her lips "— I haven't toured Old Charleston yet. Mostly we've been taking other tours, like out to Fort Sumter and driving to the military academy,"
"The Citadel?"
"Yes. I've been saving Old Charleston to see with Mitzi. She's used it and the Low Country of South Carolina so often as backdrops for her romances that I'm sure she would know all sorts of unique things about it. But tell me about Rainbow Row," she urged, wanting to get away from any detailed discussion about how she'd spent her time the past few days.
"The oldest house here dates from the 1740s. They're private residences, very much in demand. In the eighteenth century, this was the waterfront district. The different colors are a trademark, a means to set each one apart."
Passing the row of colorful houses, he turned at the corner. Lisa had the sensation of slipping into the past. With the buildings and houses shadowed by the night and few cars on the narrow streets, the modern touches seemed to be hidden from view, steeping the night in history.
Making another turn, Slade directed her attention to the house on the left. "The Heyward-Washington house, one of the places entitled to claim that 'George Washington slept here.' Thomas Heyward Jr. was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence." Lisa had barely focused on the shadow-dimmed exterior when he pointed at something else. "Does that look familiar to you?"
"Vaguely," she admitted, wishing now the tour wasn't being made in the semidarkness. In the daylight she might recognize why it was familiar. Instead she had to ask, "Where have I seen it?"
"Porgy and Bess, the operetta. Cabbage Row inspired the setting for it. There used to be vegetable stands along the sidewalk, hence its name."
They drove down more streets, past more historic points of interest. It was a tour Lisa would have to make again by daylight. There was too much to see, but she was glad the first time had been by night. It had made the antique charm of the old section of the city come to life, its early glory more than just imagination.
She gazed silently out the window as Slade made another turn. She recognized the street, having walked it every day to his office. Her aunt's house was just off this street. Her gaze settled on a white mansion set back from the street, protected by lace grillwork and shadowed by massive guardian oaks, draped with Spanish Moss.
"Of all the mansions in Old Charleston, I think that one is the loveliest," she told Slade.
"Which one?"
"The one there," she pointed. "We're just approaching it."
"Would you like a closer look?" A half smile touched his mouth as he darted, a questing look.
"Sure," Lisa agreed, thinking he meant that he would drive closer to the curb so she could have a better look at the mansion by night. Instead he turned the car in through the grillwork gates. "What are you doing?"
"You said you wanted a closer look," he mocked.
"Yes, but I didn't mean this close. Heavens, I walk by it every day —"
"You walk by it," his quiet voice immediately seized on her statement.
Lisa could have bit off her tongue. She blamed it on too much wine. She had been lulled into a false sense of security. She had to remember that Slade was still her adversary.
"Yes," she added with what had to be her millionth lie, "on my way to meet Susan and Peg. They usually pick me up at the corner." Even though his lean features were slightly shadowed, she could still see the twist of skepticism about his mouth. "We can't stop here," she protested as he stopped the car near the front entrance of the large white house.
"I know the owners very well," Slade insisted. "They won't mind if you have a look inside."
"There's no one home." The windows were dark, but it didn't bother Slade as he climbed out of the ear and walked to Lisa's door.
"They're away, but they left the key with me," he explained helping a confused and uncertain Lisa from the car.
"One of your clients?"
"More or less. I handle legal matters from time to time, but I've known them for years." His hand at her elbow guided her up the three steps to the door. Taking a key from his pocket, he inserted it in the lock and opened the door, switching on a light just inside the door before stepping back to let Lisa walk in first. "The house is closed up until fall, so the furniture has all been covered. But you can get an idea of the layout."
The oak floor of the foyer was polished to a high sheen. Ornate plaster cornices rimmed the ceiling. Light gleamed from the delicate crystal sconces on walls lined with paintings.
Still feeling like a trespasser, Lisa tentatively moved closer to inspect them. Her eyes widened at the first, a portrait of a man with raven hair and dark eyes, dressed in old-world clothes. Slade was just behind her and she pivoted to face him.
"The owners, they're relatives of yours," she accused.
"My parents," he smiled.
"Why didn't you tell me instead of letting me think that— " Lisa didn't voice the rest of her demanding question. She knew exactly how she would have ended it: something to the effect that the owners were more people he was systematically stealing from. For some reason she just didn't want to introduce that subject to their conversation. It was true, the wine had mellowed her somehow. It had taken the sharpness from her tongue and she didn't want to argue with him.
"Were you thinking the worst?" he mocked.
"Never mind. It doesn't matter." Lisa turned away, forcing the irritation she didn't understand from her voice. "Would you show me around?"
Despite the white sheets covering the furniture, there was a warmth to the house. Their footsteps echoed hollowly on the wood floors as they toured the rooms of the lower floor and followed the freestanding spiral staircase to the second. Yet the house didn't seem really empty.
"Don't your parents spend much time here?"
"Not any more — not since my father bought the farm," Slade admitted. "They spend all but the late autumn and early winter months there."
"He moved to the farm shortly after you joined the law practice, didn't he?" Lisa mused absently.
"Yes," Slade paused, his head tilting curiously. "How did you know?"
"Mitzi mentioned it to me, I guess." She shrugged, covering her slip with a lie. "Did you live here?"
"All my life." Slade started walking, his hand at her back drawing her with him.
"Why don't you live here now?" She looked at him curiously. "I mean," she laughed self-consciously, "it seems a shame for this beautiful old house to be empty for even a day."
"It's too big for one man."
"Yes, it's a family house," Lisa agreed, thinking of the numerous bedrooms meant for a brood of dark-haired, dark-eyed children. "Where do you live?"
"In the slave quarters behind the house," he told her. "We remodeled the building into a small bachelor apartment when I was in college. It's become quite popular to renovate the old quarters into apartments and rent them. Profitable, too."
"I suppose the next thing you'll do is invite me to your apartment. Every bachelor has a collection of etchings to show." Lisa said it in jest.
A roguish glint danced wickedly in his eyes. "Would you like to see my apartment?"
"Of course not." Her foot faltered on the stairstep. "It's just a standard bachelor line, isn't it?"
"So I've heard," Slade agreed. "But it's been so sadly overworked that no one uses it any more."
"That's good, because it's late, and I don't want Mitzi worrying about me. I'd better be getting back." Before I end up in water over my head, Lisa added silently. She was becoming much too friendly with Slade, the wrong kind of friendly. If she was going to be nice to him, it should be with the intention of getting information from him and not just to make small talk. He was making her lose sight of her goal.
"At least you have the advantage over me," Slade commented as they walked through the foyer to the font door. "You're on vacation and can sleep late in the morning. I have to be in the office first thing, which means getting up early."
"So do I." Lisa realized what she had said and rushed to covet it. "Not to be in the office, of course, but I'm meeting Peg and Susan first thing in the morning."
"Again? I thought you were here to visit Mitzi."
"I am, but she's in the middle of a book. It's silly for me to hang around the house every day waiting for her to finish. I might as well enjoy myself." She sounded more defensive than she wanted, but it couldn't be helped. "It is my vacation. Besides, I have the weekend to spend with Mitzi."