Mistaken for a Mistress

by Kristi Gold

  Ford reached inside the container and took two skinny finger sandwiches. “Look’s fine.”

  Kerry took one for herself then resealed the lid. “Be glad she didn’t make her usual goose liver pate.” She wrinkled her nose. “I never have acquired a taste for that.”

  Neither had Ford. “Did she pack anything to drink?” His mouth was dry, but not from thirst. He’d had a hard time keeping his eyes off Kerry’s breasts every time she leaned over to take something from the basket.

  “Let’s see.” Again she bent forward, causing Ford to shift on the bench as she withdrew a carafe. She twisted the lid open and sniffed it. “Mimosas. Although I’m betting there’s a lot more champagne than orange juice.”

  “It’s kind of early to be indulging in alcohol.” Especially if he wanted to keep his wits about him.

  She poured the liquid into a blue plastic cup and handed it to him. “A big guy like you can handle one little drink.”

  Ford was having one hell of a time handling being so close to her. “Okay, but just one.” Being close to her made him drunk enough.

  They ate in silence for a time before Kerry asked, “What about your parents?”

  A sorry subject he didn’t really want to broach. “Both dead.” As far as he was concerned, they were.

  “I’m sorry we have that in common. It’s tough, isn’t it?”

  “I did okay. My grandparents raised me.” A lie since his grandmother died four years before he was born. But he didn’t want to mention his uncle for fear he might slip up again.

  She offered him some grapes. “Dessert?”

  “No, thanks. I’m full.” Another lie. Skimpy sandwiches just didn’t cut it, but he could grab something later at the hotel. At the moment he envisioned grabbing Kerry at the hotel. He sat back and studied the skies, hoping to clear those images from his head. “Looks like rain.”

  “I know that’s how it looks, but it rarely rains in August.”

  Right after she said it, a few drops fell from the sky. “Must be one of those rare times,” Ford said.

  She laughed. “I guess so.”

  Ford picked up one oar, prepared to head back to the rental dock, when Kerry laid a palm on his hand. “Let’s stay for a while. It won’t last long.” She turned her face toward the graying skies the same as he had. “Besides, I love rain.”

  He couldn’t deny that he appreciated the way she looked right then, drops of water forming on her face and tracking a path down her slender throat. He visually followed one of those drops as it disappeared beneath the knit top. As far as urges went, he had a strong one. He wanted to follow that drop’s path with his mouth, trace the line with his tongue—and keep going.

  Then the deluge came, hard pelting rain, yet Kerry didn’t seem to care at all, unlike most of the other boaters who had long ago headed back in. Without warning, she moved beside him on the narrow bench, their thighs and arms touching. She turned her face to his, and Ford realized he was quickly approaching a point of no return, and facing plenty of regret if he gave in. He had no choice in the matter when she reached down and pulled the tablecloth out of the basket, then draped it around them like a cocoon.

  She looked up at him and said, “This gives us a little protection from the elements.”

  Ford needed more than a flimsy tablecloth to protect him from doing something stupid. Here he was, soaked to the skin with an incredible woman, their faces only inches apart. So he did the only thing he could think to do at the moment—kiss her soundly.

  He wrapped his arms around her, and she laid one hand on his thigh, her other hand sliding through the hair at his nape. The rain continued to fall, and so did Ford’s conviction to avoid this very thing. He couldn’t explain why he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Couldn’t explain why he slid his palm up the curve of her hip. Couldn’t explain why he kept going beneath her shirt to touch her waist. Her flesh was warm in contrast with the chill of the sudden wind. She was so soft against his callused hand, her tongue smooth as it moved in sync with his. A mix of instinct and need caused him to move his hand higher over her rib cage. And then she flinched.

  Reality thrust Ford back into coherency and he broke the kiss. Kerry stared at him for a moment, her eyes as hazy as his brain. She touched her fingertips to her mouth, as if she didn’t quite believe what they’d done. “Maybe we should go now,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

  “That’s a good idea.” His voice sounded gruff and slightly angry. He was angry—at himself.

  She clutched the wrap tightly around her and glanced away, but not before he saw wariness in her eyes. If he didn’t slow down, he was going to blow his plans to hell and back. Worse, he might even forget what he needed from her, and that sure as hell wasn’t taking her to bed and forgetting all about Grant’s predicament. “I’m sorry, Kerry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Don’t apologize, Ford. We’re both to blame. But I just want you to know that I’m not prone to this kind of behavior.”

  Although he should be suspicious—especially if she had been Spencer’s mistress—he sensed she was being sincere. But his instincts about women hadn’t always been on target, and he couldn’t afford to let down his guard. “I guess we both just got a little carried away again.”

  “That we did.” She tossed aside the tablecloth. “Now shall I row, or would you prefer to do it?”

  He only wanted to do one thing right now—kiss her again. And again. He grabbed up the oars, thinking he should pound some sense into his head. “I’ll do it. Might help work off some steam.”

  She smiled a self-conscious smile, revealing the dimple that threatened to shred the last of Ford’s sanity. “I suppose the tour is now officially over.”

  Ford pushed off the rocks with the oar. “I thought we might have dinner later.”

  “We’ll have to change first since I’m wet.”

  He sent a long glance down her body. “I kind of like you wet.”

  The comment hung over them for a long span of silence until she finally said, “Then you should like me a whole lot right now.”

  Problem was, Ford did like her. A lot. He couldn’t let that sway him. He couldn’t want more from her than a few answers. But damned if he didn’t.

  By the time Kerry pulled up Millie’s driveway, she wanted to scream. How could she have been such an idiot? And what had possessed her to toss away common sense to the point that she’d allowed Ford Matthews, a man she knew so little about, to kiss her until she’d almost completely forgotten herself? And in a rowboat, no less. At least she was thankful he’d stopped before things had gotten totally out of hand. Of course, when he’d come so close to her scar, she’d automatically tensed. An ugly reminder of her past, one she wasn’t ready for him to see, or feel, just yet. But she still felt the effects of his kiss, of his touch. She also recognized he was the first man she’d trusted enough to welcome the intimacy since that one horrible experience ten years before. Unwise, probably. Unwelcome, no. In fact, she wanted more of what they’d shared today. She wanted to feel that alive again.

  After putting the car in park, Kerry turned to find Ford staring at the Victorian house, surprise in his expression. “That’s a pretty impressive place. Part of the tour?”

  “Actually, this is where I live.”

  His surprise melted into shock. “You’re kidding.”

  “No. I’ve been here with Millie for ten years. Her father built it after fire destroyed the original.”

  He skimmed a hand over his jaw. “Is it as nice inside as it outside?”

  “Would you like to come in and see? I’m sure Millie would love to meet you as soon as she returns from her investment club meeting.”

  He glanced down at his rain-soaked jeans. “I’m not exactly presentable right now.”

  Millie wouldn’t mind, that much Kerry knew. But she thought it might be best if they parted company for the time being since they would be alone for another hour or so. Otherwise, she might be tem
pted to invite Ford into her bedroom. And the way she was feeling right now, a little lightheaded and totally enamored, that wouldn’t be a good idea. “Tell you what. You go back to the hotel and change, and we’ll meet back up for dinner.”

  “Okay. Just point me in the right direction.”

  “You can take the car. I’ll write down how to get back to the hotel, and basically you just follow that route to get back here.”

  “Only one problem. I’m not authorized to drive your rental, and I don’t have my license back yet.”

  “I trust you. Just don’t run over any pedestrians along the way. Besides, it’s not far at all. Just a few blocks.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Unless you can’t drive anything other than a truck.”

  He released a low, deep laugh. “I can hold my own in a car.”

  Kerry just wished he was holding her. But tonight…Well, tonight she planned to have him hold her, and possibly more. She would play it by ear and see how things progressed between them. “Fine. Be back here at 7:00 p.m. You can meet my landlady then.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He looked good. No. He looked great, even drenched. Better than any man had a right to look, Kerry decided. She anticipated looking her fill later. “See you then.”

  Before she left the car, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Yet when she pulled away, their gazes held for a long moment. That intangible chemistry came back to roost, and once more their lips came together in a fiery joining. They kissed for a long time, stopping only now and then to draw a breath. Kissed as if their very survival depended on it.

  After a time, Ford cupped her jaw in his large palm, slid his hand down her throat. As ridiculous as it seemed, Kerry wanted him to keep going. She wanted him to touch her breasts, to know what that would be like to have that experience with a man that she wanted more than anything. A pleading sound escaped from her mouth and she guided his palm down to her breast, showing him what she needed. At the moment, she didn’t really care what he might think of her, as long as he touched her. And he did, thoroughly, rubbing his thumb back and forth on her nipple until it formed a tight knot.

  She shifted against the surge of heat between her thighs, wishing the console were gone and she could be closer to him. Wishing for once that she’d been braver and invited him into the house. Wishing he would touch her beneath her shirt.

  Ford broke the kiss and rested his lips against her ear as he continued to fondle her through the fabric. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  Funny, Kerry was thinking exactly the opposite. “I know.”

  He kept his hand in motion despite his protest. “You’re driving me crazy, Kerry.”

  “I could say the same thing about you.”

  All too soon, he took his hand away and collapsed back against the seat. “I’ve decided I’m not much better than that kid on the paddleboat.”

  Kerry tugged the band from her ponytail and finger-combed her hair. “Oh, I’m willing to wager you’re much better than that kid. Experience is bound to count for something.” She felt like a vamp, uninhibited and ready to take a few more chances.

  Ford finally looked at her and groaned. “You are trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He reached over and sifted a lock through his fingertips. “You took your hair down. You look sexy as hell. And that’s making things really hard on me.”

  She didn’t dare look lower to confirm that fact. “Thank you.”

  “Wear it down tonight.”

  “I will. Any other requests?”

  “Yeah. Be sure to wear a turtleneck and pants. Otherwise, I’m not going to responsible for my actions.”

  She laughed. “I’m probably going to nix the turtleneck, but I will be wearing some sort of a sweater. And you need to bring a jacket because the nights in San Francisco can be rather cool.”

  He leaned over the console, kissed her cheek, then whispered, “I’ll keep you warm.”

  Kerry shivered at the thought, pleasantly so. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  After jotting down directions to the hotel on the back of the rental agreement, she grabbed the picnic basket from the backseat, opened the door and stepped outside while Ford did the same. They met in front of the hood, and before she could head toward the house, he pulled her back into his arms and she immediately dropped the basket onto the drive without a second thought. He kissed her again. This time their bodies completely melded together. She could feel every inch of him, from thighs to chest and everything in between. Definitely everything. Five more minutes and she would invite him into her bedroom, and quite possibly her bed.

  The sound of a honking horn startled Kerry and sent her backward, away from Ford. She looked to her right to see Millie’s ancient roadster waiting at the curb.

  “That’s Millie,” Kerry said. “You’ll have to back out before she can get up the drive.”

  “Not a problem.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I probably need to get in the car anyway, before I totally lose my respectability.”

  This time Kerry did look. She just couldn’t help herself. “I see.” And she did.

  “Yeah. I guess you do. But that’s your fault.”

  She raised her gaze to his face. “Not all my fault, but I’m willing to take responsibility.”

  He took her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm. “I’m willing to compromise on the responsibility if you are.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m all about compromise.” Right now she was all about being a mass of mercurial need.

  After following Ford back to the driver’s side, she leaned in and gave him another quick kiss before he closed the door. “I’ll see you later. Call me if you get lost.”

  Lost was exactly how Kerry felt at the moment. Lost to a gorgeous Kansas farm boy. Lost to her own feminine urges for the very first time.

  Now she had to decide exactly how far she would go to satisfy them.

  Four

  F ord had no trouble finding his way back to Kerry. In fact, he’d spent the better part of an hour pacing with anticipation, and chastising himself for losing control again. Now he was sitting in the drive behind a gaudy ancient blue roadster, putting himself through the paces of a mental pep talk.

  Tonight he would have dinner with her. He would slowly work his way into a conversation about Spencer’s murder. He would keep his hands to himself.

  That last directive was bugging the hell out of him because he wasn’t sure he could follow through. Kerry Roarke was doing things to him no woman had done in a long time. He’d barely known her for twenty-four hours and already he was thinking things he should not be thinking. Considering things he should not be considering. He would just have to keep reminding himself of his mission, and remember that his uncle was wasting away in jail with a murder charge hanging over his head. And Ford could be the only person to save him from that fate—if Kerry cooperated.

  He left the car and walked up the three steps, stopping to survey the grounds before knocking, as much out of procrastination as interest. The paint on the home’s facade had begun to peel, and the flower beds had fallen into disarray. He also noticed that the porch’s support seemed to be leaning and needed to be bolstered. Other than those few things, the estate still looked refined and shouted money.

  After another brief hesitation, he rang the bell and jingled the keys in his pocket. He was still on edge, even more so when a severe-looking elderly woman opened the door. Flamboyant immediately came to Ford’s mind, from her overly made-up face and jet-black hair to her flowing red-and-purple calf-length dress.

  She eyed him curiously for a long moment before saying, “You must be Kerry’s young man.” She sounded polite but she didn’t seem that pleased to see him.

  “Yes, ma’am. Ford Matthews. And you must be Mrs. Vandiver.” He stuck out his hand, which she took briefly for a delicate shake.

  “You may call me Millie.” She s
wept a hand in an almost theatrical gesture, her smile painted on as if also part of the act. “Right this way.”

  Ford stepped inside the foyer and followed behind her into a musty formal living room. She turned to him and said, “You may sit there,” indicating an ancient gold sofa. While Ford settled onto the couch, Millie took a stiff-looking red chair across from him. The fabric was a near-match to the dress and her lips, contrasting with her pale skin. He couldn’t quit peg her age, but from the looks of the myriad service awards lining the walls, many dating back decades, he’d guess she was somewhere around seventy.

  Scooting to the edge of the chair, she studied him again. “Kerry tells me you’re a farmer.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Do you make a decent living?”

  If she only knew. “Yeah, I do all right.”

  She sat back, crossed one bony leg over the other and clasped her hands together in her lap. “Exactly what are your intentions, Ford?”

  “I’m not sure I understand the question.” He did understand he was about to get the third degree.

  “What do you plan to do this evening with my charge?”

  Her tone held a note of suspicion, like she’d channeled his questionable thoughts. “We’re going out for dinner.”

  “And after that?”

  “I’m not sure. We haven’t discussed it.”

  She leaned forward and leveled her rheumy blue eyes on him. “May I speak frankly to you, Ford?”

  Although she’d posed it as a question, Ford recognized he had no choice but to hear her out. Draping an arm over the back of the sofa, he tried to appear relaxed when he was anything but. “Sure.”

  “Kerry Ann is a very special young woman. She might appear tough on the exterior, but that is only a front. Inside she is very vulnerable. Wounded, if you will.”

  Wounded? Ford’s curiosity increased. “How do you mean?”

  “It’s not my place to say, but you must take my word for it. If she trusts you, she’ll tell you. And if she does, then you should feel honored. Trust doesn’t come easily for her, with good reason.”