BARELY MISTAKEN

by Jennifer Labrecque

  Why the hell not? What could be more befitting of a pirate? And what could go wrong in a couple of hours out of one night?

  * * *

  2

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  "Olivia? Olivia Cooper? Is that you?"

  Olivia forced herself not to squint, although she couldn't see. Against her better judgment, she had surrendered to folly and abandoned her tortoiseshell specs in her car. The ballroom's lighting consisted primarily of candles. She could barely see. Actually, being half blind lent her Dutch courage. She'd mixed and mingled and already raised more money for her beloved library expansion.

  The man stepped close enough for her to identify him.

  "Hi, Jeff." An ambitious manager at Adam's bank who resembled a rodent, Jeff looked much better as an obscure blur.

  "Where's Adam tonight?" he asked, eager for a suck-up opportunity, no doubt.

  Blurred vision or not, she still saw Jeff ogling her cleavage. Olivia forced herself not to check herself out as well. Amazing. She actually had cleavage. That merry widow had done impressive things to her small breasts. They not only appeared fuller, they felt fuller as they strained against what had once been a modest neckline. The bra's stiff lace teased her nipples. Further emboldened by a cat's-eye mask and her upswept hair, Olivia felt sexy and terribly provocative. It was a heady sensation.

  "Adam? He had a meeting late this afternoon and thought it might run late." The party was in full swing and still no Adam. She bit back her disappointment.

  "When you see him, tell him I'm looking for him." With a final glance at her chest, Jeff took off to suck up to someone else.

  Outwardly, she hoped she appeared her usual calm, composed self. Inside she was strung as tight as a crossbow. Good thing she didn't drink, or she'd be tempted to knock back a few shots of Marty's Wild Turkey. Instead, she slipped through a side door and stepped out into the crisp autumn night. The moon, a golden orb swollen with promise, hung suspended above the semi-dressed branches of water oaks and pines.

  Olivia steadied herself against the rail of the wraparound porch. How many times had she listened to other girls chatter about their dates at country club soirees? Now she was one of them. Or she would be once Adam arrived.

  As if her thoughts had conjured him up, headlights flashed down the azalea-lined driveway. Olivia recognized the hum of the BMW's engine. A sudden case of nerves had her tucking hairpins more securely and plucking at her mask. What would Adam think of her costume?

  She watched as he pulled up and relinquished his car to the club's valet. Her breath caught in her throat, as her pulse pounded.

  Wow! Blurred vision or not, there was no denying the pirate outfit tripled Adam's sex appeal. Was it the eye-patch or the Errol Flynn shirt or the wig and tight breeches that lent a sexy swagger to his stride? Something primitive awakened and responded to his saunter. For one brief, disruptive second Luke Rutledge came to mind—doubtless conjured up by Beth's earlier chatter.

  She brushed the thought of him away, much as she might a pesky mosquito. Luke was a pompous ass.

  Instead she concentrated on Adam.

  She gathered her wits as he climbed the broad stairs. "Adam," she called to him, her voice a disgusting squeak. "Adam," she tried again, this time sounding more like herself instead of a mouse on steroids.

  After the slightest hesitation, he turned in her direction. "Yes?" His steps slowed as he walked toward her. A tall, dark, mysterious stranger.

  "I wondered when you were coming." Her voice came out low and husky.

  "Olivia."

  How many times had he spoken her name in the past several weeks? Countless. Yet it had never slid off of his tongue like a caress. She didn't need clear vision to feel the heat of his gaze as it flicked over her. He stopped before her.

  Adam usually wore a trendy cologne she found somewhat cloying, but tonight he'd abandoned it. His clean, masculine scent, mingled with the sharp, cold, autumn air, aroused her.

  Mercurial, quicksilver heat spread through her. Alarmed her. The staid, practical librarian demanded retreat. She stepped back and the darkness engulfed her. The distance didn't diffuse the awareness that shimmered and danced between them.

  Adam followed her into the shadows, the broad expanse of his shoulders silhouetted against the moon. "You're beautiful. You take my breath away, Lady Olivia."

  Oh my. She checked the urge to make sure he wasn't talking to someone else and decided to try something new—gracious acceptance. "Thank you."

  "We should go inside. It's cold out here."

  His low-timbered voice shivered against her skin. His words said one thing, his body language said something else as he dipped his head toward her.

  "Yes. We should…" instead, she stepped closer, drawn to him regardless of her will.

  "…go inside." Even as he finished her sentence, he cupped her shoulders and drew her forward.

  She braced her hands against the smooth texture of his shirt, the spring of male hair beneath tantalizing. Evocative. Unnerving. "Tell me why again," she murmured.

  "It's cold."

  Every inch of her body responded to him. The black velvet mask pressed sensually against her face while the night air's cool fingers brushed against her heated skin. "Is it?"

  She'd accepted Adam's kisses before. Now, for the first time, she craved his kiss. "Olivia?"

  Her insides melted at the rich roll of her name on his lips—an auditory aphrodisiac. The night and her vision—or lack of—blurred reality, yet intensified her other senses. The steady rhythm of his breathing whispered a melody to the background accompaniment of the party's muted sounds. His scent evoked an awareness deep within her.

  Her breath mingled with his. As inevitable as the rise of the moon or the rustle of the wind through the dry leaves, her lips welcomed his.

  And her world turned upside down.

  Passion, long dormant and unacknowledged, awakened with an almost frightening intensity. Had she ever felt this way before? A ghost of a memory danced in her head, but wrapped in the feel and taste of him, Olivia gave it no credence.

  Was it the full moon? Maybe the mask? Or simply because it felt so undeniably good? She didn't stop to delve into motives. Instead, uncharacteristically, she abandoned herself to the situation and the sensations flooding her. She leaned into him and deepened their kiss.

  Thus far in their relationship, Adam hadn't been very physical. On the odd occasion when he was, his touch verged on platonic. Although he'd hesitated for the briefest moment, there was nothing platonic in the way he slanted his mouth over hers.

  Olivia grasped his shoulders more firmly, as much to support herself as to enjoy the play of hard muscles beneath her hands. She silently apologized to Adam for previously thinking him a bit on the soft side. He was deliciously muscular and firm.

  And his kissing had come a long way since the last time. They both came up for air. Olivia slumped against the brick wall for support. Adam braced himself against the same wall, his hands on either side of her. How was she supposed to catch her breath and recover from that kiss with his breath warming her face, his body mere inches from hers?

  A few feet away, a window scraped open. Laughter and music spilled onto the porch, shattering their cocoon of intimacy. "It's hot in here," a woman's complaint drifted out.

  Olivia corrected her posture and Adam straightened, dropping his arms to his sides.

  "We should go inside. It sounds as if it's much warmer in there," Olivia regained her voice along with her coherence.

  Together they moved toward the door. Adam's fingers found the small of her back and settled there. Shivers chased along her spine.

  "It can't be any hotter than it is now." Adam's muttered comment absolutely wrecked her small measure of composure as they joined the party.

  * * *

  Luke navigated through the crush of people hovering about the door without stopping to talk. Kissing Olivia had damn near rendered him incapable of speech. He was still reeling
from the impact of that kiss. Holding her in his arms, tasting her mouth, breathing in her scent, had felt like a homecoming. Thirteen long years and he realized the way he'd felt during that first kiss hadn't been a fluke. He barely refrained from grinning like an idiot. If Adam had ever experienced even a sampling of Olivia's brimming sensuality and passion, he'd have never referred to her as an ice princess.

  He mentally compared the country club to Cecil's Bar and Grill. As a matter of course, Luke didn't frequent the country club. This was foreign territory. No dartboards. No pool tables. No neon lights advertising beer. No babes in leather bustiers.

  Just as he'd anticipated, the lighting in the ballroom consisted of candles on small, white-clothed tables scattered around the dance floor perimeter. A cash bar in one corner did a steady business. He headed the other way. The less contact he had with people, the less likely he was to blow his disguise. Whoever was supposed to make contact with Adam, would surely seek him out. The safest way to avoid conversation was to hit the dance floor, Luke reasoned as he steered Olivia in that direction. And quite frankly, the prospect of holding her close didn't pose a hardship.

  The microphone hummed as the song ended and the band's singer stepped up. "We're going to slow it down before we take a break."

  The music began and Olivia turned into his arms with a quiet smile that slammed his heart against his ribs. Unfortunately, her smile was intended for his brother.

  "I know you don't like to dance, but I'm glad we're out here," she murmured as he clasped her hand, small and delicate, against his chest. She cupped his shoulder with her other hand. He didn't dance much and certainly not with women like Olivia. She felt amazingly right in his embrace.

  He was far happier to know Adam had never held her like this than he should've been.

  "You inspire me." He pulled her a fraction closer, achingly aware of her soft curves beneath the stiff starch of her dress. She radiated classy elegance. She'd been too good for him years ago when he'd stolen a kiss. She was still out of his league.

  Behind the black velvet mask trimmed in feathers, her gray eyes studied him intently, almost squinting. Did she recognize he wasn't Adam? No. He wanted to continue to hold her in his arms and sway to the sultry song. "What is it?"

  Tugging her hand free of his, she reached up and rubbed the pad of her thumb against the edge of his upper lip. "I branded you with my lipstick."

  To hell with the lipstick, her touch branded him. Her hands drifted farther up, resting between his shoulders and his neck, touching his bare flesh. He'd seen fine-looking women naked and not been nearly as turned on as he was now.

  Luke traced his finger along the satin skin near her lips.

  "Am I smeared?" Her voice resonated low and husky, her breath warm and moist against his finger.

  She wasn't, but it offered a good excuse to touch her mouth. He lingered, tempted by the fullness of her lips and the memory of their recent kiss. "No, they're perfect."

  Behind her mask, her gray eyes flirted, as she tilted her head coquettishly. "My Lord Pirate, your flattery goes to my head." Her fingers cupped the nape of his neck. His belly clenched in response.

  "And your nearness goes to mine, Lady Olivia." Both of his heads.

  With a sigh, she melted against him. This was the woman his brother referred to as the "ice princess"? Once again, he was fiercely glad Adam seemed oblivious to the passion that simmered just below her surface, that lit the seductive light in her eyes.

  Silently swaying to the music, Luke absorbed Olivia. Her sensual mouth so at odds with the angular lines of her face. The graceful length of her neck that begged to be nibbled. The alabaster mounds of her breasts teasing at her neckline. The curve of her waist beneath his hand. The errant brush of her nipples against his chest. Her subtle fragrance wove about him, tantalizing and exotic. She was a hidden treasure and he knew just the pirate to explore her.

  A giant marshmallow dancing with a peanut M&M's bumped into him, jostling Olivia enough to bring her head up off his shoulder.

  "Sorry, Adam. Olivia," the marshmallow stammered an apology.

  Luke managed not to glare at Mr. Sta-Puf as he steered in the opposite direction. For a few, brief minutes he'd forgotten Olivia was only in his arms on sufferance.

  "I forgot to tell you earlier, Jeff was looking for you." The feathers trimming her mask tickled against his chin. Fine strands of her hair brushed his cheek like dark silk.

  "Good old Jeff." Who the hell was Jeff? Obviously someone he should know, so he could hardly ask Olivia to point him out. Was he Adam's contact at the party?

  The song ended. Couples drifted off the crowded floor as the band dispersed for a break. He twined his fingers through Olivia's, reluctant to release her.

  A smile turned up the corners of her mouth and lit her eyes. "I have a table in the back."

  Several people greeted them. Luke returned the greeting, but continued to wind his way to the back of the room. Olivia glanced at him in surprise. "You don't want to stop and talk?"

  Oh, yeah. Adam was a schmoozer. "Not tonight."

  "Here it is." Olivia stopped by one of the draped tables in a back corner. As Luke pulled out a chair for her, she sat in the one next to it. "You can have the seat facing the mirror."

  Luke glanced over at a mirror reflecting his pirate image. He bit back a smirk as he sat down. When they were teenagers, he'd teased Adam about frequently checking his appearance in the mirror. Apparently Adam still liked to admire himself. And apparently Olivia had noticed. His knee brushed against hers as he settled his legs beneath the table. The brief contact sizzled through him.

  Olivia felt it too. Awareness echoed in her sharp intake of breath and the widening of her eyes. "I raised more money for the library addition tonight," she said in a rush, as if desperate to say something.

  "Good. Are you excited construction starts Monday?"

  Driven to touch her, he captured one of her hands and brought it to his mouth. He nuzzled the soft center of her palm. Her fingertips curled against his jaw. Her luscious lips parted. She appeared slightly dazed as she murmured a yes.

  "You know Luke's going to supervise the job personally."

  Her mouth tightened and her hand clenched within his grasp. "But Mr. Klegman is supposed to."

  Yes, Dave was supposed to until about two seconds ago when Luke decided he would take on the project. Dave wouldn't care. "Change of plans, I guess."

  Olivia tensed. "No one mentioned it to me."

  Luke shrugged with feigned carelessness. He knew he shouldn't tread where he was about to go, but daring had always faced down judiciousness. He leaned close, fascinated by the delicate shell of her ear. Luke inhaled her scent with each breath. "Don't you like my brother?"

  "No." Her gut response rang low and vehement. She scrambled to recover as politeness warred with truth in the depth of her eyes. "I mean yes. Of course I do."

  It was ridiculous that something he already knew carried a sting. It was the why of the matter he didn't understand. Tomorrow—when she realized he'd tricked her—tomorrow she'd have a reason to dislike him, but why now?

  "I think your first answer was the truth. Why don't you like Luke, Olivia?"

  Her chin jutted at an obstinate angle. She gazed at the flickering candle. "He makes me uncomfortable. He doesn't follow the rules. He's a loose cannon and I've got enough of those in my own family." She shifted her attention to stare directly into his eyes—well, his eye and the eyepatch covering the other one. "I don't want to discuss Luke anymore."

  Quite frankly, he'd lost his appetite for hearing why she disliked him. "Fair enough. Why don't I get us a drink?"

  "Tonic with lime would be great."

  He found himself oddly reluctant to leave her for even the brief time required to fetch drinks. Without forethought or planning, he leaned forward and brushed the soft fullness of her mouth with the hard line of his own. It was difficult to say who was more surprised, her or him. "I'll be right back."
>
  "I'll be here." She appeared as bemused as he felt.

  Luke managed to cross the room to the bar without getting snagged into a conversation, which was a good thing because quiet, demure Olivia had thrown him for a loop. Quiet, demure women should have a calming effect on a man. Olivia affected him just the opposite. Something about her stirred up the wildness in his soul. Every damn time he was around her, he wound up kissing her.

  He ordered two tonics with lime—as much as he'd like a healthy splash of gin to doctor his up, he needed to keep a clear head and that was already something of a challenge with Olivia. Drinks in hand, he turned and found himself face-to-face with Henrietta Williams, head of the Welcome Committee and a member of the Chamber of Commerce.

  "Hello, Adam. You look so dashing as a pirate. I declare, you almost take my breath away." Henrietta batted her lashes and simpered.

  It was far more likely that Henrietta's girdle rendered her breathless. Luke, however, in a rare moment of gallantry, refrained from making that observation. "Why thank you, Henrietta. That's quite a…" he searched frantically for a way to describe a woman with the proportions of a sumo wrestler wearing a Geisha getup "um … inventive outfit you have there."

  "Candy and I are Oriental sugar and spice tonight." Henrietta giggled behind a lacquered fan, and indicated her daughter at a nearby table. Candy, a younger replica of her mother, both in build and costume, waved in his direction. "I know you're glad to have all that fund-raising over with. It was generous of you to give up so much of your time to that Cooper girl. Very sweet of you to invite her tonight to the club." She lowered her voice and raised her penciled eyebrows. "Let's just hope she doesn't get any ideas she belongs here."

  "I know what you mean, Olivia's much too good to belong here," Luke even managed to smile at the snobbish battle-ax.

  Luke turned on his heel and walked away even as Henrietta tittered behind him. "Now Candy's going to save you a dance as long as you don't make her walk the plank. I'll tell her to look for you when the band starts up again," she sang out to his retreating back.