by Jo Leigh
“It’s good to finally meet you, sir,” Mitch said. “I’ve been remiss. I should have made it a point to do this sooner.”
“Well, I’m just pleased as punch we can be together for this wonderful occasion. Why don’t we go to the bar? Let your old man buy you a drink.”
He glanced at Bentley. Her color was better, but her shock was quickly shifting into anger. “Great idea, sir.” He put his hand on the small of Babs’s back. “After you, Mother. I want to meet the family. Snookems has told me so much about all of you.” He smiled at his bride. “Haven’t you, snookems?”
“I’ll give you snookems—”
Mitch sidestepped Bentley and walked quickly toward the bar, sandwiched between Babs and Danny Brewster.
Bentley didn’t move. She couldn’t. She’d been turned to stone by the evil warlock Mitch who’d come to Hawaii to ruin her life. How the hell had he known Carter didn’t exist? She’d never been more careful with anything in her life. She’d covered her tracks so well the CIA wouldn’t have been able to find a shred of evidence.
Carter had given her great pleasure. He’d offered her solace in a crazy world. Laughter in her most bitter moments. And now he was gone. There was only one solution. Widowhood. Soon.
For the first time since Mitch had shown up, she smiled. Planning his demise softened the blow somewhat, at least enough to get her moving. She couldn’t leave Mitch alone with her family. God knows what he’d say. She thought of him calling her snookems and eliminated poison as too kind a murder weapon. She was in Hawaii—why not throw him into a volcano?
The family was spread out in the bar, closer to the liquor than the waterfall. Mitch was center stage, sitting next to her parents. Everyone smiled jauntily, as if this were a vacation or something. Mitch grinned at her and patted the seat next to his. She came up behind him.
“Sit down, honey,” he said. “Mother was just saying that we should come out to the house this winter for the holidays. I agree, don’t you?”
“We’ll see, dear.” As she sat, she reached under the small table and pinched his thigh as hard as she could.
“Ouch.” Mitch grabbed her hand and held it tightly. Very tightly.
“What’s wrong, son?” Dan said, signaling the waiter.
“Old war injury.”
“The war’s just started,” Bentley whispered, struggling to get her hand back.
Mitch leaned close to her, still keeping her hand in his. “Darling, you wouldn’t want your family to see us fight, would you? You don’t want them knowing our secrets.”
“Order champagne, Danny,” Babs said. “We need to toast Carter. We didn’t get to at the wedding.”
“Of course.” Dan turned to the waiter and made the request. “Five bottles ought to do it”.
Bentley pulled her hand out of Mitch’s grasp, nearly tilting in her chair with the effort. She grabbed the end of the waiter’s shirt, stopping him. “Scotch,” she said. “A double. And three aspirin.”
He nodded, and she turned just in time to see Mitch give her mother a patronizing, commiserating eye-roll. That did it. The volcano was too good for him. She’d find an anthill and stake him out naked in the sun. Then she’d dribble honey all over his—
“Your work sounds fascinating,” Babs said. “But so dangerous.”
Bentley froze. What if he told her family a completely different story from the one she’d made up? Everything could come apart at the seams.
“Working for CNN had its moments. But…” He gave her an angelic smile. “I was going to save this surprise until we were alone, but it’s just so darn great to be with all our loved ones, I’ll tell you now.”
Bentley was glad she’d updated her will before the trip. Because she was clearly having a heart attack. That must be his plan. This whole thing was a plot to kill her.
“Snookems,” he said, “I’ve given notice. I’m coming back to L.A. for good. We can finally start our family.”
The champagne arrived just then. Three waiters put down tall ice buckets, and each man popped a cork.
“Divine timing.” Babs held out her glass for her bubbly. “This does require a toast. You know we want nothing more than a grandchild, isn’t that right, Danny?”
“That’s right, Babs. An heir. A grandson.”
Glasses were filled at all the small tables, with the last two flutes belonging to Mitch and Bentley. Dan stood and held his glass aloft. “To our new son, and the sons he will have. To Carter!”
Dan drank, Babs drank, Mitch drank. Bentley brought her drink under the table and poured the cold champagne directly onto her darling Carter’s lap.
It did her heart good to hear his yelp. To see him leap to his feet. To hear the chair fall, the glass break, the waiter slip, the ice cascade prettily on the floor.
Then she picked up her scotch and her aspirin. She swallowed all three tablets while waiter number two slid on the ice and fell into Aunt Tildy’s lap. Her shriek shook the rafters, but her cane did the real damage. She knocked over another ice bucket, then hit Uncle Arthur in the stomach on the follow-through. He bent double, and his toupee fell onto the icy floor, looking something like a dead wolverine.
Bentley sipped again as Babs shot into the air, causing her own champagne to spray all over Dan’s sailor suit. Dan, in turn, stood up to help Babs but slipped in the ice and slid down, rather elegantly, to the floor, hanging on to Babs’s capri pants.
Mitch, she noticed, had taken his seat once more. He scooted close to her and put his arm on the back of her chair. “Good,” he said. “Excellent. You have a real talent for this.”
“Thank you”.
“So, we’re even, right?”
“Oh my, no. We won’t be even until you’re dead.”
“Ah. I see.”
“Good. I don’t want you to be surprised. I know I hate surprises.”
“I wouldn’t have had to surprise you if you’d told me you were going after Colker.” “Does this look like I’m here on a story?”
“Yeah. Uh-huh. Colker’s in Hawaii, you’re in Hawaii. Big coincidence.”
“Believe what you want”.
“We already know just how good a liar you are, Mrs. DeHaven.”
“Oh, the ways I’m going to pay you back for this are going to make headlines.”
“Uh, uh, uh, snookems. All I have to do is blow the whistle, and your master plan goes right into the toilet.”
“My master plan?”
“Yeah. I’m sure Babs and Dan would love to know that not only am I not Carter, but Carter is a figment of your imagination. That darling Bentley has been lying to Mommy and Daddy all this time. Might put a chink in the old trust fund, eh?”
“You’re as insane as you are dangerous.”
“Maybe so. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve got you over a barrel, honey lamb, and don’t you forget it”.
“So what do you want?”
“Everything you know about Colker.”
“That’s easy. Nothing.”
He shook his head. “Bentley, you might be able to fool your parents, but don’t try it on me.”
“Oh, you can tell when I’m lying, huh?”
“In a second.”
“So you’ve known the whole time that I wasn’t married?”
“Of course.”
“I’m going to pick up my father now. You may go to hell.”
She stood up and carefully made her way through the ice patches to where Dan sat. She gave him her hand, and he stood. At first she thought he was crying, but then she looked at his face. He was hysterical. He was laughing harder than she’d ever seen him laugh before. “Did you see,” he said, trying to keep it together long enough to talk, “did you see the toupee?”
She nodded, seeing nothing amusing in the circumstance. Was Mitch telling the truth? Had he known from the beginning?
“Did you hear Tildy? The old bat hasn’t been this alive in forty years.”
Bentley smiled, although not for long. A
ll her satisfaction at dumping her drink on Mitch had fled, and she didn’t even get the pleasure of seeing her parents angry at him for causing a scene. It wasn’t fair. Even Babs was managing to keep her cool. She had her compact in one hand and a hairbrush in the other.
Bentley left Dan and Babs and moved over to Uncle Arthur, who was trying to put his toupee back on. He didn’t seem to know which end was the front, so she helped, although his rug was a bit worse for wear. He was grateful for her help, though, and she felt a pang of guilt. Not just for him, but for the poor waiters. No, it wasn’t her fault. It was Mitch. He was the devil. And he must be stopped.
MITCH THOUGHT ABOUT going upstairs to change. But he didn’t know Bentley’s room number, and he didn’t have a key. So he watched her settle her uncle’s toupee on his head. The nerve of her trying to tell him she wasn’t on Colker’s trail. Well, he held all the cards in this game. Playing Carter was actually kind of fun. He liked the way her family treated him. Hell, they treated him better than they treated her.
Maybe that was normal. He wouldn’t know. He tried to imagine his own mother here, but he couldn’t. They probably wouldn’t have let her into the hotel.
He shook that thought off and concentrated again on Bentley. It was clear she was going to try to get back at him. So he was going to have to be particularly clever. Watch his every move. The good news was the ace he held. She’d have to behave. At least in public.
She bent over a table to pick up an ice bucket, and Mitch got a look at her legs and derriere. It was all he could do not to applaud. How could someone so manipulative live in a body that sweet? Despite the fact that she was the most annoying woman he’d ever met, he couldn’t deny the fact that she was gorgeous. One thing money had given her was taste. He’d never seen her look anything but spectacular. Even when she’d gone downtown to chase a story, she dressed like a queen.
He liked what she had on now. Simple tailored pink slacks and a white blouse. Nothing special. Just perfect. He’d always figured he’d like what was underneath her clothes, and hot-diggity, this just might be his chance to find out for sure.
Then she turned to face him, and his excitement dwindled. He seriously doubted she’d be up for snuggling tonight. She just had no sense of humor.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, keep it that way.”
“Yes, dear.”
She approached. He couldn’t help but notice her hands were now fists. And that she looked as though she knew how to use them. This was a whole new side of Bentley. A new dangerous side. He stood and inched his way toward Babs. Bentley wouldn’t hit him in front of Mommy, now would she?
“Anyone else hungry?” he said, hoping someone would take the bait. It was early yet, but he needed the family to stick around. It was safer that way.
“It’s only four-thirty,” Babs said. “Darlings, we’re going up to the room. We’re both a mess.”
“No!” Mitch swung to his “mother” and grasped her arms. “Don’t go.”
Babs reached up and pinched his cheek. “Isn’t that sweet? Danny, look how sweet. Bentley, you didn’t tell me he’d be this sweet”.
“Sweet?”
Bentley’s voice had a disturbing edge to it. Slightly psychopathic.
“Oh, he’s a doll. A peach. A real cupcake.”
“Bentley…”
“What is it, snookems?” she said as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Don’t you want to go up to the room with me so we can rest?”
“Me? Nah. I’m not tired.”
“But you need to change clothes, Carter.”
He laughed, sort of. “No, no. I’m fine. I’ll just stay down here.”
Bentley smiled at him then. It made his blood flow cold.
“I need you to come upstairs with me, Carter.”
He backed up until his butt hit a table. He checked for an escape route, but he figured he’d have to jump over Uncle Arthur to make a clean getaway, and the old man might not make it.
A change in tactics was definitely in order.
He walked toward Bentley, remembering who was who and what was what. He’d never been afraid of a woman in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.
He grabbed her around the middle and pulled her close. He laughed at the look of panic in her eyes. Then he kissed her, and to show who was boss, he caught her hand just as it was coming up to hit him. Then he kissed her harder.
Chapter Three
It took a minute for the nerve endings from his mouth to connect to his brain. They were clearly dazed by the fact that he was, in fact, kissing Bentley De-Haven. mission. It was the taste of her. The slightly sweet, delicate, one-hundred-proof softness that was so unique that he had never, would never, taste anything like it again.
The sounds of the bar, the waterfall, Babs and Dan, Aunt Tildy, all faded away to a hazy buzz. He still held Bentley’s wrist in his hand, but the fight had gone out of her. He wanted to move again, to explore this new situation more fully, but he hesitated. He didn’t like Bentley DeHaven. She didn’t like him. But, oh, mama, this kiss was…was…
She shifted, and her tongue slipped past his teeth and tentatively tasted him in return. All higher functions in his brain shut down, boom, like that. His thoughts were primal, repetitive, simple. Yes. Good. More.
Another part of his body got into the act, roused by the sensations up above. He moved his hips closer to Bentley until they met thigh to thigh. Then she did it again. She moved: Just a little. Just enough. He was about to embarrass himself in front of his inlaws.
Then she broke free. She disengaged, yanked her arm from his grasp, took two steps back and gave him a look that would melt iron ore.
“You son of a—”
“Bentley,” he said loudly, moving aside so she could see Mom and Dad. “We need to go to the room, honey. It’s early yet. Plenty of time to get changed and freshen up.”
Her gaze locked onto his, and he felt the hate vibrations scorch his corneas. He also saw that Bentley was blushing. Pink as a rose from her neck to her hairline. There was some satisfaction in that accomplishment, but not much.
“Yes,” she said, the word hot as lava. “Let’s go to the room. Let’s freshen up.”
Mitch smiled. He turned and put his arm around her shoulder. She struggled for a second, but he could bench-press two hundred and fifty pounds, so he won. Then he leaned close to her, moving his mouth right next to her ear. Babs probably would think he was nibbling her daughter’s lobe, whispering sweet nothings. Ha.
“Do not,” he murmured, “blow this. I’m Carter, remember? Your loving husband.” Then he smiled at Babs.
“Oh, it does my heart good to see you two lovebirds together,” Babs said. “I don’t know when I’ve been happier. I just pray that Stephanie finds as much happiness as her sister. Right, Dan?”
“Huh?” Dan was still wiping his shirt with a napkin.
“I said I hope Stephanie and Jack will be as happy as Bentley and Carter.”
Dan stopped wiping. “Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Stephanie.”
Babs smiled indulgently, but Mitch saw the impatience behind the cheery facade. “I told you, she’s supposed to arrive tomorrow. Although I’ve been trying to convince her to get here today. That storm isn’t going away.”
Dan nodded. Babs patted his hand. Aunt Tildy walked past them, her cane loud on the stone floor. Uncle Arthur, still trying to place his toupee on correctly, followed. The waiters mopped up champagne.
Bentley pulled free of Mitch’s embrace. She needed to get out of there, away from her mother, her father and especially Mitch. She had to focus, to think logically, to plan her revenge.
“I’m going to the rest room. Excuse me.”
Before anyone could stop her she fled, walking quickly but carefully on the wet floor, right past the palm tree into the large powder room.
She was alone. Thank goodness. Life had
suddenly become a Tilt-A-Whirl and she’d lost the handrail.
The light in the powder room was soft, easy on the eyes, but she still saw her own reflection in too much detail. Her hair was a mess, her blouse disheveled, her lipstick worn off.
Her lipstick.
What in hell had happened to her when he… When Mitch…
He’d kissed her! And, to her everlasting shame and with no small amount of confusion, she’d kissed him back. Kissed him! He’d put something in her drink. He’d hypnotized her. He’d sold his soul to the devil in return for evil powers. Nothing on this earth could have compelled her to kiss Mitch Slater. Not of her own free will.
She stared again at her face in the mirror. Her cheeks were pink just remembering what had happened. How he’d held her tight around her waist so she was up against his hips. How he’d shifted that little bit so that she felt his…
No. It couldn’t be real. How was it possible that Mitch Slater was a man? He was a journalist. Anyone who knew anything knew that a journalist couldn’t be a man. Not a trustworthy man. Not a man to count on. Not a man to kiss back!
It had been her first lesson in college: Stay away from reporters! Don’t get involved. They’ll get the when and where from you, then leave the why as a memento to rehash in long nights of bitter contemplation. When she’d joined the Times, every woman between the age of eighteen and sixty had warned her about Mitch. He was dangerous. Sly. Smooth as twelve-year-old scotch. She’d seen his moves for herself, hadn’t she? How he’d bend any rules, sneak behind enemy lines, bribe, cheat, connive for the sake of a story. Mostly her stories. So why in hell had she kissed him back?
Maybe it was the surprise. The shock. That had to be it. If she’d been herself it never would have happened. She’d never have lost her breath, never have felt the heat rise in her chest and never, never would have wanted more. It was a cruel joke from a trickster universe. Mitch Slater masquerading as her husband. Speaking to her parents. Calling her snookems.