They all looked at her and nodded, though they might as well have sent her a snappy salute. Alex got the feeling no one disagreed with this woman very often.
“That’s the only way she’s going. If I can go, too. Keep an eye on things.”
Alex closed his eyes. This project was turning into a circus.
“We will not blow your cover, Alex,” Selene said softly. She was the youngest, and her silver-blond hair and huge blue eyes were spooky. “We’ll blend into the woodwork. No one will even notice us.”
“Let them come, Alex,” Mel said, getting to her feet. “They’ll be good, I promise.”
With a sigh, he gave in. But he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him he would live to regret it.
Chapter 2
S he had one day, the unflappable Alexander Stone told her, to get ready. A day. To figure out how the hell to look, speak, dress and act the part of a virtual princess. Apparently the famous Katerina’s personal assistant was able to plead the couple out of a day’s worth of commitments, with some fictional excuse.
She had a day to make herself into a totally different person. It was a lot to ask.
Vidalia put Alex up in the guest room, and he promised his “team” would arrive bright and early in the morning to get started. Get started on what? Mel wondered, visualizing Dorothy’s visit to the salon in the land of Oz.
Someone was pounding on her bedroom door by the crack of dawn. She realized she must have slept soundly, all things considered, because she had a hell of a time waking up. Grumbling, she rolled over, pulling the covers over her head.
“I’m coming in, Melusine,” a deep voice called from beyond the door.
The covers flipped off her face. “Huh?”
The door opened, and Alex peered in at her, then came the rest of the way. “Good, you’re awake.”
“Yeah, now.”
“We want to get an early start. We have lots of ground to cover. You dressed under there?”
She lifted her eyebrows and nodded, wondering just where she ought to kick him first.
“Great. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and we’ll get set up? Okay?”
“We? You keep saying we. Who exactly do you—”
Again her bedroom door opened, and the woman who entered looked like a cartoon villainess.
“This is your personal maid, Katerina,” Alex said softly, calling her by the stranger’s name. “Bernadette is in charge of your wardrobe, your hair, your makeup and such.”
“Oh.” She looked at the imperious woman, disliking her instantly. “Hi. I’m Mel.”
“No. You’re Katerina,” Bernadette said, her voice as stern as her silver-streaked black hair.
Mel bristled, getting to her feet. “I know who I am, lady.”
“Bernadette works for the real Katerina. She’s the only one outside our own people who knows what’s going on. She’s going to be coaching you on your mannerisms and behavior, as well.”
“Oh, goodie,” Mel said in a monotone.
“No one knows Katerina Belisle Barde the way I do, young lady. I know my job. Beginning now, and from this moment on, you answer only to Katerina or Madame Barde. Do you understand?”
Mel lifted her brows and tilted her head to one side. “And what do you answer to? Attila?”
The older woman narrowed her eyes on Mel in a way that had Mel feeling like a dalmatian pup. She glared right back at her, though.
“She’s here to help you, Mel, er, Katerina,” Alex muttered.
Pursing her lips, Mel gave a nod. “Fine. She can help me. But I won’t be scolded or lectured or harassed. If I am, she’s out the door.” She faced the woman again. “Got it?”
“If you can’t take direction, then there is no point in going forward at all,” Bernadette informed her. “The proper response is, ‘Yes, Bernadette. Of course I’ll cooperate.’”
Mel stifled a laugh. “Yeah, in your dreams, lady.”
The woman rolled her eyes heavenward.
Mel said, “Yes, Bernadette. Of course I’ll cooperate with you. You just keep in mind here who’s playing the princess and who’s playing the servant, okay?” The woman’s eyes widened and her face heated, but Mel ignored that, heading into the bathroom for her shower. And she locked the door behind her.
She took her shower quickly, in spite of having half a mind to linger, just to piss off the woman in the next room. Still, she felt a little guilty. Alex was probably realizing about now that Mel Brand and some delicate princess had less in common than a cactus and a tea rose.
When she was finished, she pulled on a terry robe, ran a brush through her still-wet hair and stepped back into her bedroom again.
The woman was gone. Alex was sitting on the edge of her bed waiting for her. There was a rack on wheels, suits and dresses hanging from it, shoes stacked beneath. On her dressing table were two small cases that stood opened, looking like miniature cosmetics counters, with tiered shelves and numerous drawers all lined with bottles, jars, tubes and devices.
“That was quick. I appreciate that,” Alex said.
“I don’t believe in long showers. Where is the wicked stepmother?”
He licked his lips, looked her up and down. “Sit down for a moment, would you? I want to show you something.”
She bit back the sarcastic comment that popped instantly into mind and took a seat beside him on the bed. He had the remote to her portable TV/VCR combo in his hand, and he aimed it now and flicked a button.
A tape began playing. Footage of a graceful, beautiful woman who bore, in Mel’s estimation, no more than a vague resemblance to her. She moved like a ballerina, had flawless skin, perfect manners, a shy, delicate way about her. She was soft-spoken and apparently shy. Kind and gentle.
Mel watched the woman step out of a palatial-looking building in a tropical clime and walk down a long walk-way to where a gaggle of reporters waited. She spoke to them briefly, softly, shyly and then moved on to the waiting limousine. She made getting into the back of a car look like choreography.
The screen went black.
Mel sighed. “I’m never, ever going to pull it off.”
“Not by yourself, no. But if you let this woman—this expert—help you, you’ll do it in spades, Mel. I know you will.”
She licked her lips. “I’ll try.”
“There’s a lot at risk. Don’t try. Just do it.”
She nodded slowly. “All right.”
“All right.” He got to his feet and opened the bedroom door. “My wife is ready for you now.”
“Right away, Mr. Barde.”
She blinked away the feeling of oddness, the surreal sense that she was playing a child’s game in a very grown-up way, and this time she received her personal assistant with a smile designed to be gentle like the one she had seen the real Katerina beam at everyone she encountered.
Alex left Mel in Bernadette’s capable hands and headed downstairs. In the kitchen, hovering over their morning coffee, Vidalia, Kara and Selene awaited him. Vidalia got up, poured him a cup and then nodded at him to sit.
“So how did that one go over with Mel?” she asked.
“There were some…tense moments, but they seem to be getting along now.”
“Humph. I knew she and Mel were gonna clash. She’s too bossy.”
“Mom, we have to call her Katerina, remember?” It was Selene, the youngest, gently reminding her mother. “We agreed to do this exactly the way we’re asked.”
“Yeah, and so did Mel,” Kara put in. Then she bit her lip. “I mean, Katerina. Gosh, this is gonna be hard.”
“But you’re right, Kara. She did agree, and now she’s gonna have to swallow her temper and her pride and just do what needs doing,” Selene said.
Vidalia nodded. “It’s just as well we’ll be there to help her.” She looked to Alex. “She gets huffy on you, you just let me know. I’ll take care of it in short order.”
Alex had to stifle a smile. He could see a lot of Mel’
s mother in her. A strong woman, and very honest. He thought about the women in his social circle, women who were so good at artifice that you never knew what they were really thinking. Any one of them could have easily played the role of princess, but he doubted any of them would be willing to go to the trouble to do so.
Not so with this bunch.
“So,” Vidalia asked as he took a sip of the delicious coffee, “exactly what are the sleeping arrangements going to be with you two?”
He choked, and yanked a paper napkin to his mouth just in time to prevent the coffee from spattering the kitchen table. Thank goodness for that tacky rooster-shaped wooden napkin holder in the center.
“I am her mother. I have a right to ask.”
“From this moment on, you are her cook. And mine. Please, Vidalia, you have to try to get into the right mindset.”
“That is one very clever way to change the subject, Mr. Stone.”
“Mr. Barde,” he corrected. “Thomas Barde.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. He gave up and told her, “I haven’t seen the house yet, but rest assured, I am a professional and I take my work very seriously. I’m not going to compromise your daughter.” Not in this lifetime. “I’m going to do the job I was hired to do. That may entail creating the illusion of intimacy between us, especially since the couple we’re impersonating are madly in love and only recently married. But rest assured that even if you see things that cause you concern, they will not be real. It’s a cover, Mrs. Brand. And it’s one that’s necessary for our national security. All right?”
“I have your word on that?”
“You do.”
She nodded slowly.
“How do you suppose they’re doing upstairs?” Selene asked.
“Oh, they’ll be a while. Unless our dear Katerina kills Bernadette and puts an early stop to things.” Even as he said it, there was a growling shout from above, followed by a string of obscenities in Mel’s unmistakable voice.
“My heavens, what is that woman doing to her?”
“It’s just a guess,” Selene said. “But I’d say they’re waxing.”
Sighing, shaking her head, Vidalia got up, walked into the living room and stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Melusine Brand! I mean, Katerina Barde, you watch your ever-lovin’ mouth, young lady!”
From above, another bellow came, but this time the words that followed were muted and unintelligible.
Mel couldn’t believe her eyes when the women finished the torture session two hours later. She stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room, wearing not her usual faded jeans but a shell-pink skirt and tailored jacket, with a sleeveless white silk blouse underneath. Her stockings were silk, too, and the pearly pink pumps matched the pearls around her neck and on her earlobes. Her eyebrows had been plucked and shaped into perfect arches, and the makeup made the deep blue of her eyes look even deeper and her already thick lashes look even thicker and her cheekbones—well, hell, she’d never even noticed her cheekbones before.
Bernadette was still fussing with her hair. She’d added some auburn and burgundy highlights to the deep black waves, giving it shimmering shades that changed in the light.
The woman stood back admiring her work, nodding silently in approval. Mel stared at herself in the mirror. “This isn’t me,” she whispered.
“It is for a few days, Katerina,” Bernadette said softly. “But the makeup and clothes are the easy parts. You’ll have help. Hair and makeup girls newly hired to assist you during your stay. I’ll supervise, of course, but they will believe you to be the real Katerina. Your appearance will never be a problem so long as you trust us to help you. The rest is going to be much more difficult.”
“More difficult than having tiny hairs torn from various parts of my body?”
The woman actually smiled. “You have the spirit to do this. And the beauty was already there. I only enhanced it. You fit Katerina’s clothing to a T. The rest is just a matter of thinking, always thinking. Before you speak, before you move, before you act, always think. Ask yourself, is this something Katerina Barde would say or do? Is this the way she would move? Take your time and then proceed. If you observe ladies of breeding and social status, you’ll notice they always move slowly and deliberately and gracefully. Hurrying is your enemy.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“Walk for me. Cross the room, then turn and come back.”
Taking a deep breath, Mel turned and walked the length of the room, making her steps as slow and as graceful as she knew how. Then she turned and came back.
The woman nodded. “Good. Good. Already you’re thinking ahead. Let’s polish it now. Each foot is placed precisely in front of the other. So your footprints would form a straight line if you could see them. And you need to keep your head up, chin up, don’t look down at your feet as you walk. And don’t swing your arms so much. They should be almost still. All right?”
“Straight line, arms still, chin up.”
“And smile.”
She grimaced instead, then straightened her posture and tried the walk again, feeling like a kid playing at being a princess.
Bernadette applauded this time. She did not do so by clapping both hands together, but by cupping one hand and slapping the four fingers of the other one against it repeatedly. Mel made a mental note.
“Now, let’s work on sitting.”
“Sitting?” Mel asked.
So they worked on sitting. And on getting up. And then they practiced talking, asking and answering questions without really saying much at all. The tone, always soft, the eyes always direct, the grammar always correct.
For hours they worked, and Mel knew it was just the beginning. Hell, she was going to hate this. She knew she was.
There was a knock on the door. Bernadette leaned close to Mel and whispered, “Enter.”
“Enter,” Mel called in her newfound Katerina voice, all soft as a breeze.
The door opened, and a man stood there. He had a very short, very neat beard on his chin, and he wore dark sunglasses and a shiny suit that looked as if it had probably cost more than her own entire wardrobe. Not Katerina’s but Mel’s. Good grief, she was going to develop a split personality.
He stared at her for a moment, not saying anything. Then finally he seemed to snap out of it. “Ah, Katerina,” he said, smiling at her. “You are a picture of beauty, just as always.” He strode toward her, took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, which was a very sexy mouth, especially when it was spewing flattery at her in an accent that was kind of British but with a touch of something hotter and more Latin flavoring it.
“I…I…“
He released her hand, and his own rose to remove the amber-tinted sunglasses. She met his eyes and then blinked her own. “Alex?”
Bernadette glared at her.
“Uh, that is, I mean, Thomas. My…husband. You look…and you…so…” She stopped there, her eyes widening, and she turned to face Bernadette. “Wait a minute, what about the accent? Am I supposed to have one, too? How am I going to fool anyone without an accent?”
“Katerina attended private schools in the U.S. from the ninth grade on, including university. She has barely any discernable accent at all.”
“But I do,” Mel insisted. “I sound like an Oklahoman!”
“Actually, you don’t,” Bernadette said. “At least, not when you’re in character. I expected it would be a problem, but you seem to lose it naturally when you’re speaking as Katerina Barde.”
“I do?”
“Yes. I assumed you had done some training for the stage.”
She shook her head, bewildered.
“You might just be channeling her, Mel,” Selene said from out in the hallway, peering into the bedroom. “You really look like her, you know.”
“You look…incredible,” Alex said.
Mel met his eyes. “I do not look incredible. This is not me. I do not look like this. Katerina looks in
credible, and I simply look like Katerina. Given the choice, Alex, I’d be in my jeans, with my face scrubbed clean and my feet bare and the wind blowing my hair any way it pleased.”
He blinked when she said that and looked away from her. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. It was a compliment.”
“It was Katerina’s compliment, not mine. Give it to her when you see her.”
He faced her again, his brows crinkled as if he were puzzled.
“Never mind,” she said.
“Calm,” Bernadette said, snapping the word out like a command, even while patting Mel’s shoulder. “Get back into your role.”
The woman was a damn drill sergeant. Mel drew a breath, straightened, lifted her chin and pasted Katerina’s wishy-washy smile on her face. “Shall we go to dinner, darling? We do have a long flight ahead.”
He looked at her for a moment, perhaps taken aback by the sudden change. But he quickly followed suit, falling back into his own role seemingly without effort. “Of course, love.” He offered his arm.
She took it, then did the princess walk out of her room and down the stairs. Despite hating every second of this make-believe crap, Mel thought she had never heard anything sexier than Alexander Stone speaking in that phony accent. And the beard did things to his face. Made him look a little less polished and polite, a little more dangerous and unpredictable.
But she had to remember that he, too, was simply playing a role.
Selene watched the two of them go down the stairs, shaking her head slowly. “This can’t lead to anything good,” she muttered to no one in particular.
Chapter 3
“N ow remember, the cover story is that we flew out so that you could visit a friend back in Tantilla who was in the hospital. Her name is not being released to protect her privacy. Naturally, never wishing to be far from your side, I went with you. Now we’re back and ready to resume our schedule here in Austin.”
Alex sat beside her in the small plane and kept his voice low, so that the “staff,” who rode farther back, wouldn’t overhear. That staff included some newly hired hair and makeup people, her mother and two of her sisters, and Bernadette. Their security team would be waiting at the airport.
Secrets and Lies Page 3