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‘How are you feeling today?’
‘You’re still staring. How is your head?’
‘Which one?’ he asked. ‘Can I come over there?’
‘What for?’ Lacie asked.
But, as his eyes slid up so did the corner of this mouth, and she knew that look.
‘I’m here to talk,’ Ryder said but that curl became a grin.
‘That’s not what your face says.’
‘I missed you.’
‘You saw me yesterday, and I didn’t think we’d see each other again,’ Lacie said.
‘We have to talk.’
‘You’re grinning at me.’
‘Your legs,’ he said. ‘I’m thinking about your legs.
Mistake
Me
Not
Mistake Me Not
Scarlett Finn
Copyright 2014 by Scarlett Finn
Smashwords Edition
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter One
‘Pregnant?’ Lacie asked.
‘Everyone will think I’m such a hussy.’
‘Well—‘
‘What?’ Sorcha snapped.
‘I didn’t say anything,’ Lacie said placing a calming hand over her best friend’s knee.
The women sat together on Lacie’s second-hand, moss green couch in the middle of her living room; the piece positioned like an island. Lacie was beginning to envy the notion.
‘How am I going to explain this to my father?’ Sorcha asked.
All of the peace had been shattered from Lacie’s day when Sorcha had phoned from the car to say she was on her way over.
Lacie hadn’t lived in this apartment for long but she enjoyed the quiet street and the unassuming neighbours. Making a final decision had been easy when she’d been introduced to the trapdoor in the bedroom floor, which led to a secret cellar. The mystery of it appealed to her curious side.
Sorcha had been on at Lacie about certain throw pillows that were required to “disguise the couch”. Ordinarily Sorcha was observant about the most benign things and the sincerity of her panic only amplified when Lacie realised Sorcha hadn’t noticed the throw pillows she’d finally got around to purchasing. But now that she’d heard the news Lacie could understand why.
‘I don’t understand how it’s possible,’ Lacie said. Sorcha narrowed her eyes. ‘I mean I understand how but... I didn’t know you’d been with anyone.’
‘It’s Bruce’s,’ Sorcha said.
‘What?’ Lacie exhaled. ‘But I thought... he left town when you broke up, but that was about...’
‘Three months ago,’ Sorcha said.
‘It took you three months to notice?’
‘I think I was trying to pretend it wasn’t happening,’ Sorcha said. ‘I got a test, in fact I got a few – they all came back positive.’
‘When did you take them?’
‘This morning,’ Sorcha said lifting her purse from the floor behind her feet then dumping out the contents on the centre cushion of the couch.
Dozens of the pregnancy tests lay between them and though Sorcha waited for a reaction, Lacie had nothing.
‘Wow,’ Lacie said overwhelmed by the white plastic sticks scattered amongst Sorcha’s usual purse paraphernalia. ‘You got more than a few.’
‘How am I supposed to tell my father?’ Sorcha asked. ‘I’m Catholic! He’ll go berserk.’
‘He can’t think you’re still a virgin,’ Lacie said. ‘You’re twenty-eight.’
‘I don’t... I doubt he does believe that but we don’t talk about it. He’ll expect me to get married! How can I get married when I don’t have a baby daddy, or rather a groom?’
‘Will Bruce marry you?’ Lacie asked.
She and Sorcha had been close friends since they met in college. Lacie was new to the country at that time and Sorcha had educated her in all things American. While Sorcha was tall, elegant, and perfect, Lacie was a few inches shorter, much less refined, and far less confident with the opposite sex. Sorcha simply had to walk into a room to get the attention of every man there, which had always been fine with Lacie. She wasn’t really sure what to do when a male paid her any attention but then she had different priorities.
Sorcha Reynolds was the eldest of two daughters to Lawrence and Amelia Reynolds – she came from high society, and still slurped from her silver spoon occasionally. As a result Lacie was used to digging Sorcha out of any dirty pit she found herself in, except this time there was little she could do for her friend.
‘He won’t have a choice when I get hold of him,’ Sorcha said.
‘Are you sure you would want to marry him? He always seemed a little self-absorbed to me.’
‘And thus ends your introduction to the pretty boy. He’s hot, and he’s rich, he doesn’t need a decent personality.’
‘Is that your opinion or your mother’s?’
‘What else can I do Lace?’ Sorcha said snatching Lacie’s hands and pulling them to her lap. ‘I have to at least find him. I have to tell him.’
‘There are options if you don’t—‘
Sorcha was visibly startled. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that was your type of thing.’
‘We’re not talking about me,’ Lacie said steering away from the subject of her sex life, which had been non-existent for more than a while now. ‘This would be your decision.’
‘I don’t know,’ Sorcha said on a long inhale. ‘I’m terrified of my father, but I’m twenty-eight, what if this is it? My last chance.’
‘Last chance at what?’ Lacie said on a laugh.
‘You know,’ Sorcha said. ‘I have to find Bruce. We have to get married before my father finds out about this.’
‘Ok. So where is he?’
Sorcha slumped back on the couch in the most unladylike pose Lacie had ever seen her in; usually Sorcha was the epitome of poise. ‘I have no idea.’
‘Can you call his work?’
‘And say what?’ she said. ‘He told me he got a big promotion somewhere. He’s not even working for Lewis Fund and Investment anymore.’
‘What about family?’
‘I never met them,’ she said. ‘I suppose I could ask my mother but... I don’t really want to talk to my family about this until... you know.’
‘So you don’t have a clue where he is,’ Lacie said trying to find a different route of information for her friend. ‘Hey, what about that guy?’
‘What guy?’ Sorcha asked.
‘I don’t remember his name, I never met him... The guy you were seeing when I was in the UK.’
‘What guy, I don’t—oh, you mean Shep.’ Sorcha’s blanched expression regained some of its rosy hue as a smile curled her lips. ‘He really was something... it’s just a shame about...’
‘About what?’
‘I told you,’ Sorcha said. ‘The man was useless in bed. I tell you it’s a waste on someone as hot as he was.’
‘Didn’t you say he was some kind of investigator?’
Sorcha sat bolt upright. ‘That’s right. Yes, he does private investigations.’
‘Hire him. He can track down Bruce for you.’
‘I can’t,’ Sorcha grumbled. ‘He was really pissed when I broke up with him. I can’t go back to him now and ask him to look up another of my ex-boyfriends.’
‘Isn’t it better that than facing your father without knowing
where Bruce is?’
Sorcha considered this for a moment. ‘You could hire him.’
‘Hire who?’
‘Shep,’ Sorcha said. ‘Just tell him I referred you, he’ll probably want to help when he hears my name.’
‘And what do I tell him?’
‘Tell him you need to find an old boyfriend. He’s hardly going to ask any questions about your motives, and all he has to do is find Bruce. So it’s not like you’ll have to actually talk to Bruce. Shep can give you the information, and then you give it to me. Bingo, everyone’s happy.’
‘I don’t like it,’ Lacie said.
‘It’ll be easy. All you have to do is go down there give him the name, the money, and the information, after that he can phone you with the results. Boom, done – one conversation.’
‘Sorcha, how can you be sure he’ll—‘
‘Money,’ Sorcha said raking in her purse. Producing a pen then her check book, Sorcha scrawled out the details. ‘I’ll pay you, and you pay him.’
‘But what about—‘
‘That ought to be enough.’
Lacie glanced at the check her friend had handed over. ‘Ten thousand? You think it will cost ten thousand dollars to find out where someone is?’
‘I don’t care about the money,’ Sorcha said. ‘But, Shep will never turn down money, he’ll see that, and all of his other questions will go away.’
‘I’m not sure about this,’ Lacie said.
‘Trust me,’ Sorcha said. ‘And I’d really owe you if you help me out.’
How could Lacie say no to her best friend who’d found herself in this pickle. They’d been through a lot together, and Sorcha was always there when she needed a friend. Boom, done – one conversation... she could handle that.
Ryder opened the top drawer, and then the middle one, raking through each in turn. It was a sad state of affairs when one investigator had to poach off another but being that he was poaching from Seth Sheppard the world’s laziest investigator he didn’t half mind. Shep took his fee and then some, sleeping with most of the wives who came in for information on whether their husbands were cheating. Plus, Sheppard had stolen more than a few potential customers from Ryder and his partner Jamie by undercutting them on price only to lump extras on the final bill... and usually his information wasn’t that extensive; or accurate.
This time Ryder had happily taken a job from the husband of a former client of Sheppard’s. The client Rich Gillespie wasn’t that interested in whether or not his wife knew he was cheating, he was more interested in other information Sheppard may have found regarding a few dodgy business deals Gillespie had been doing on the side. Deals with regards to a certain white powder that supplemented the respectable Mr and Mrs Gillespie’s income.
Ryder knew Sheppard’s habits and like clockwork, Sheppard had left to go on a “job”, which meant hanging out at a pool hall a few streets over. Tiffany – Sheppard’s nineteen year old assistant – had toddled out a few minutes later going to the nail salon in the mall. Tiffany took as much advantage of the client’s money as Sheppard did – and Ryder figured they were sleeping together too.
So, knowing all of these facts, Ryder had watched from his truck as events played out just he had predicted. Sheppard should have noticed him sitting there, but that spoke to his inherent detecting skills, or rather lack of them. Ryder waited a respectable time then got out of his car, crossed the road, and walked into Sheppard Investigations like he owned the place. The small entryway opened from the glass shop front and showed a desk, computer, and a few personal items of Tiffany’s. In the corner, there were four plastic chairs, and a fake ficus – Sheppard really was the last of the big spenders.
On the back wall, there were two doors, one was a small restroom, and the other was Sheppard’s office. Upon opening the office door Ryder saw piles of files, paperwork, discarded magazines, and newspapers, in every corner of the room. It was a wonder Sheppard got any business at all when his office was in this state. Never known for loitering Ryder ignored the mess and got searching. When the filing cabinets came up empty he went across the room to the desk that stood angled in one corner in front of a closet door. Now in the leather captain’s chair Ryder hunted through the drawers, and desk, for the file on Rich Gillespie. Then when raking through the last desk drawer for any clue that Sheppard kept notes at all Ryder heard the squeak of hinges. He sat up expecting to see Sheppard back early, or his assistant – it was neither.
The brunette stood straight while looking around the room. Her expression displayed the same disgust he too must have had on his face when he walked in. He’d put her height at five six, maybe five seven, and her sun-bleached hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders. When her attention came to him he noticed striking green eyes that were a little unsure of themselves. Whatever it was, or wasn’t, his dick jumped to attention in two seconds flat. But, what it was ready for he didn’t know, because the woman was still a clear twenty feet away. He didn’t know her name, her business, what she felt like... what she tasted like. He hadn’t had such an impulsive and instant reaction to a stranger in, well... ever.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said in smooth honeyed tones. ‘There was no one out there, and—‘
‘What can I help you with?’ he asked.
This was a woman with business; business she was apparently taking to Sheppard, or so she thought.
‘I don’t know. I need to find someone.’
‘Well, you came to the right guy,’ Ryder said though he wanted to point out she’d come to the wrong office, but an investigator was an investigator. Yet Ryder couldn’t imagine stretching the definition to encompass Sheppard.
‘Can I...?’ she asked taking another step into the room and pointing at the seat opposite the desk he still sat behind.
‘Um... yeah.’
This might be risky but he couldn’t exactly tell the woman in the blue tea dress that he was actually an imposter she’d caught in the middle of a little B and E.
She crossed the room and took the seat then smoothed her dress over her knees, all the while not making eye contact until she’d taken a few fortifying breaths.
‘Don’t worry, this is the easy bit. I’ve heard it all, so don’t worry about saying anything you might think is inappropriate.’
‘I have to find a man.’
‘Need a little matchmaking?’ he asked. On her next breath, her expression relaxed. Now she was a little more at ease his dick tried to jump through his zipper again – thank goodness there was a desk between them, or not.
‘I’ve never done this before. I don’t exactly know how—‘
‘It’s easy. You tell me who you’re looking for, give me as much information about possible whereabouts as you can, and then I go to work.’
‘Ok,’ she said. ‘I’m looking for a man called Bruce Booth. He used to work for Lewis Fund and Investment in town.’
‘I know them,’ Ryder said linking his fingers as he rested his forearms on Sheppard’s desk.
The pose wasn’t normal for him but for some reason he was concerned his hands would take on a mind of their own. Overcome with the need to touch, to feel, his fingers tingled. He’d have to lunge over the desk to do it, and that wasn’t exactly professional – though it was probably the norm for the man who usually occupied this chair.
‘He got a promotion, or a better job, or... something. He left town, and now I need to know where he is.’
‘What about his family? Friends?’
She inhaled while her eyes slinked to the corner behind him, a classic sign that she was hiding something. ‘I’m trying to stay under the radar.’
‘Right,’ Ryder said. ‘Does he owe you money?’
Her brows came together in a show of curiosity rather than irritation. ‘Why would you—?‘
‘Sometimes people don’t want to be found, and a guy in his industry...’
‘Oh no, it’s nothing like that,’ she said shifting to the edge of the chair and flat
tening her fingers on the opposite side of the desk to him.
Her nails were short, and neat, but there was a faint sign of colour around her cuticles, like a smoky dust not quite removed. She’d awoken his dick the minute she walked in, now his mind was buzzing with a dozen questions about what was behind those mesmerising eyes, and the chalk on her fingers.
‘Listen Dusty, I don’t care about your motives. But, I do need to know if I’m getting into anything illegal, or that’s likely to give me trouble.’
‘Dusty?’ she asked wrinkling her nose.
Her whole face was expressive, she shifted the angle of her head, the pout of her lips, the gap between her eyelids, the muscles of her cheeks, her forehead, like a child curious about a world they knew nothing about. Ryder found himself wondering how her expression would change if he kissed her, about how those wide, inquisitive eyes would look when he sheathed himself inside of her.
‘Mr Sheppard?’
It took him a good eight seconds to realise she was talking to him. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘I can completely understand that you wouldn’t want to jeopardise yourself or your business by getting into any trouble. But perhaps this would be an appropriate time to tell you that a good friend of mine referred me to you.’
‘A friend?’ he asked wondering if he was about to be made.
‘Yes,’ she said, and blinked as though sorting through her thoughts before she spoke. ‘I wouldn’t want this to be awkward. But, I can assure you that I would never bring any aggravation to your door, and I’m assured that your services are top notch, so I...’
He hadn’t noticed the small strap over her shoulder that attached to a tiny bag under her arm. Now, she slid it down into view and opened the clasp to draw out a slip of paper, a check.
‘I didn’t know if I should make it out to you personally, or if you had a company name that it should be made payable to,’ she said.
She pushed the check the width of the desk, and for the first time since she’d entered he took his eyes away to look at the paper under her fingertips. ‘Whoa,’ he said when he read it. ‘This is way too much.’
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