Born in Mystery

by Susan Kearney

  Stepping back, she deemed the dress too drab and conservative for a party and dug into her bag, debating between a costume-jewelry giraffe pin and a bold silver-and-black scarf. With a grin, she draped the scarf around her neck and secured it with the pin.

  There. She looked elegant but not stodgy. Young, but stylish. Most importantly, she looked a helluva lot more confident than she felt. She couldn’t decide if her premonition of disaster was simply her way of telling herself Craig was not a real date and nothing romantic would happen between them tonight, or if her changing hormones were simply making her uneasy.

  She met Craig in the foyer. He was stunning in a navy sport coat and slacks with a white turtleneck that emphasized his tan.

  His perceptive gray eyes took her in, and he grinned appreciatively at her dress and hair. “I could go out with you every night, and I’d always be curious to see whether you’d show up as a blonde, brunette or redhead. Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Hoping her nervousness didn’t show, she squared her shoulders. She was taking a risk tonight, deliberately exposing herself to the stalker. But she had to find out who was after her or she’d never again feel safe.

  “If you spot anyone suspicious, just point him out. You leave the confronting to me, okay?” Craig took an umbrella from the hall closet, opened the front door and urged her into the night.

  Brushing her foreboding aside, she ducked into the rain. Craig shielded her from the worst of the weather, and she supposed he’d like to shield her from the stalker, too. While she appreciated his sentiment, and being coddled had some good points, she’d admitted her anxiety, and she didn’t want him treating her as though she was helpless.

  Craig opened her door for her, walked around to the driver’s side and hurriedly slid into the car. “Don’t forget to buckle up.”

  “Is all this concern for me or the babies?” she asked. The words had just slipped out. Not thinking ahead was so uncharacteristic of her usual behavior, she figured the pregnancy must be playing havoc with her mood.

  Craig didn’t seem to notice her distress. Still, she tensed until he chuckled.

  After starting the car, he turned on the headlights and the windshield wipers. “Right now, you and the twins are a package deal.”

  She forced herself to take a deep breath. Anger wilted, and bittersweet thoughts took root. Of course he thought her and the twins a package—what else could he think? Although she was honored he valued her as the mother of his children, their date was a sham.

  “Actually,” he interrupted her thoughts, “I’m more worried about this storm. There’ll be accidents in this poor visibility.”

  She tried not to think about the steep, winding road they’d be taking until they headed inland to Glendale and the fancy restaurant where Harry always held his parties. “We need to get our stories straight for the evening.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “These people know me. I worked for Harry for three years. They’re bound to be curious about where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing. They’ll pump me for information about you.”

  “Tell them the truth.”

  She almost choked. Had he guessed at her final deception? Was that censure she heard in his tone or her imagination working overtime? She remained still, tensed for the guillotine blade to fall, waiting to see what he’d say next, knowing the car ride during a storm where he had to concentrate on his driving was no place for a fight.

  “What truth?” she bluffed. “You want me to tell them about the stalker?”

  “Tell them we’re married. That’ll explain your absence, change in job and living quarters. Hopefully, your friends will be so enthralled they won’t question your current whereabouts too closely.”

  He wanted her to play the happy newlywed. He was right that the announcement of her sudden marriage could explain away much of the mystery around her.

  She’d never anticipated having to explain her situation to anyone. She didn’t expect any of her friends and associates to know she’d even married, never mind divorced. “And the babies?”

  “I see no reason to mention the unusual circumstances of your pregnancy.”

  “Okay. Tonight I’ll be Mrs. Bianca Braddack.”

  “You don’t have to sound so reluctant. It’s not as if you’ll be lying.”

  She swallowed a hysterical laugh. If she didn’t get herself under control soon, he was going to suspect something was wrong. Thankful the weather forced him to keep his attention on the road, she fidgeted in her seat. Surely if he could have seen her eyes, he might have guessed she hadn’t told him the whole truth.

  He spoke again, seeming not to notice her momentary inability to speak. “Will posing as my wife be so difficult? Is there a reason you don’t want to introduce me to your friends and co-workers?”

  “Of course not. I’m just a little embarrassed I didn’t invite them to our wedding.”

  “We can tell them we eloped, that we just couldn’t resist one another.”

  At the teasing tone in his voice, she told herself to relax or she’d never get through the evening. Pretending to be his wife shouldn’t be difficult if she prepared.

  A thick fog slithered along the ground like a fat gray snake. Ignoring her nerves that tightened with every passing mile, she attempted to distract herself from the ceaseless rain and her uneasiness by concocting details to match their elopement.

  “We need to get our stories straight. How did we meet?”

  “At my attorney’s office?”

  Well, at least that part of the story was true—even if he didn’t remember her. But then they hadn’t been introduced; she’d been working at her desk as he strode by. And one glance . . . and she hadn’t forgotten him.

  “And we’d known each other how long?”

  “A few days?” he suggested.

  “And we haven’t had time for a honeymoon, okay?”

  As they drove up to the restaurant’s covered area that protected them from the weather, she wished for a moment that their story was all true, wished that circumstances hadn’t forced them together and that he wasn’t with her only because of the children.

  While the valet parked Craig’s car, she perused their elegant surroundings. Owned by a friend and client of Harry Pibbs, the restaurant was noted for the multimillion-dollar deals made in the back booths just as much as for the shrimp and chicken over linguini salad and their extra-dry martinis.

  Almost immediately, Bianca spotted Harry in the crowd. She led Craig over to make introductions.

  Harry’s eyes lit up when he greeted her with a warm smile and seconds later embraced her in a tight hug. “Hi, stranger. You are a sight for this old man’s eyes.”

  “You’re not old,” she protested truthfully. Harry ran ten miles to work every morning. He played golf on weekends and watched his weight.

  Not even Harry’s expensive bay rum cologne could cover the scent of the cigars he hid from his wife. As he enveloped her, the familiar scent and the warmth of his greeting brought tears to her eyes. Too much time had passed since she’d seen her friends.

  She pulled away gently, a lump in her throat. “Harry Pibbs, meet my husband, Craig Braddack.” Harry’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He broke into a huge grin and gave her a knowing look. “So that’s what happened to you.”

  Craig and her old boss shook hands. “I’m afraid your loss was my gain.”

  Within moments, a crowd of former associates engulfed Bianca. Someone handed her a drink from a passing waiter, and the secretaries plied her with questions. She attempted to look suitably happy and head over heels in love as she explained her elopement and craned her neck to look for Gran.

  Instead, she spotted Kendrick, huddled with another man and accompanied by a stunning blonde in a dress so low cut she could hav
e been advertising implant surgery. The blonde had attached herself to Kendrick, but her gaze roved over the men in the crowd.

  Bianca knew she shouldn’t be mean, but Kendrick could do better. The woman might as well have had the word “starlet” tattooed across her ample chest. Kendrick seemed oblivious to the woman, treating the blonde much the way he’d treated Bianca, and she considered whether the lack of passion in their relationship had been as much Kendrick’s fault as hers. This time, she turned over the idea with a new confidence she’d never had before, a confidence being with Craig had given her.

  Before she could think the idea through, she spotted Gran beside the bar talking to Harry and Mabel. Mabel’s lips pinched as she scowled at the handsome Fred holding Gran’s arm. In contrast to the sour-faced woman, Gran glowed, looking elegant in a sequined gold blouse with a floor-length black skirt. Spotting Bianca, Gran, with Fred in tow, broke away from the attorney and his wife.

  Bianca grinned as Fred hurried to keep up. Obviously, Gran’s ankle had recovered.

  Her grin faded a bit when Uncle Bob came into view behind Fred. She hadn’t expected him to turn up, but then he occasionally threw business Harry’s way. She should have anticipated his presence, but with all she had on her mind lately, she could forgive herself for forgetting a few details.

  Uncle Bob wore a pleasant expression. With the free booze of an open bar, the man was in his element As usual, his gray suit was immaculate, his hair neatly trimmed around the bald spot at his crown. He trailed behind Gran and Fred, walking steadily, if a bit deliberately.

  Bianca enveloped Gran in a hug. Although they’d only been apart a few days, she was accustomed to daily visits. “I’ve missed you. You look wonderful.”

  “Freddy’s been taking good care of me,” Gran praised Fred loudly, then whispered so only Bianca could hear, “Harry’s telling everyone you’re married. Bob is suspicious.”

  Glad for her grandmother’s warning, Bianca’s thoughts raced. Uncle Bob might be a drunk, but he’d always had a keen intelligence that, tonight, made her wary. She moved out of Gran’s arms and offered a nod of greeting to Fred, all the while hoping Uncle Bob wouldn’t trip up the story she and Craig had concocted.

  Fred leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I hear congratulations are in order. You’re a married lady?”

  Craig must have seen Uncle Bob heading her way. Her husband smoothly cut through the crowd to her side. Without saying a word, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, his look adoring.

  Ah, how she ached for his adoring look to be real, yearned for him to want her as much as she wanted him. At the thought the ragged pulse of her breathing accelerated. All her good intentions of keeping a safe distance from him vanished, leaving her with a yen to tilt her mouth up to his for another searing kiss.

  Dreamily, she looked back at Craig as she responded to Fred’s question. Uncle Bob arrived just in time to hear her explanation. “Craig and I met at Dean, Atherson, and Jackson. It was love at first sight, and we eloped the next day.”

  Fred’s eyes widened. “The next day? But . . . you barely knew one another.”

  Uncle Bob chuckled and arched his brow. “And you didn’t mention it the last time I saw you.”

  ‘How come?” Fred asked.

  “We had other things on our mind,” Craig smoothly replied.

  Bob’s grin turned to an inebriated scowl. “Our practical little Bianca fell for the oldest line in the book.”

  Just who did he think he was to question her morality?

  “I didn’t fall for a line,” Bianca snapped. “I’m married.” Craig seemed content to mostly let her deal with her family, but his hand tightened on her waist, warning her to be careful.

  “She picked a fine man.” Gran backed Bianca up, her words easing the mounting tension. “I couldn’t be more pleased with her decision.”

  Fred turned to her grandmother, his voice both accusatory and surprised. “Why didn’t you ever mention Bianca eloped?”

  At the unexpected question, Bianca’s pulse rate skyrocketed. She didn’t know what to say. Of course it would have been natural for Gran to have told Fred that she’d married. The omission was suspicious.

  Gran’s brow wrinkled. “I thought I told you. I’m quite sure I did.”

  Good old Gran had come through once again. She suppressed a smile at her grandmother’s outfoxing Fred with a pretense of senility to slouch off the awkward question.

  Fred frowned, then shrugged. “May I see your ring?”

  Acid churned in her stomach, and Bianca thought fast. “It’s at the jeweler’s. One of the settings loosened yesterday. Thank goodness I didn’t lose a stone.”

  Fred nodded, his face instantly serious. “Next time you visit your grandmother, I’d like to see what you picked out. I’m thinking of popping the question to my girlfriend.”

  Gran squealed. “How exciting. I hope I won’t be losing you.”

  “Never fear. I like the work at Jarrod’s.”

  “How’s Kendrick taking your new status?” Uncle Bob asked Bianca, a sly look in his eyes. The acid in her stomach rose another notch.

  “Why don’t you go ask him?” Craig suggested, his tone soft yet defiantly menacing.

  Gran laughed. Bianca bit back another grin. She couldn’t remember when her grandmother had last had this good a time.

  A band warmed up, and the loud music made talking difficult. The lights dimmed. Fred asked Gran to dance, and the two of them hit the parquet floor like Astaire and Rogers. Uncle Bob wandered off with a scowl, leaving her and Craig alone.

  Craig handed his glass to a passing waiter. “Would you like to dance?” he asked Bianca.

  “I’m out of practice. I’ll probably step all over your feet.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” Craig gathered her into his arms, and her body responded before her mind could drum up another protest. She immediately forgot about the steps and concentrated on how good his hand felt in hers, how good he smelled, his scent of spicy soap and minty aftershave that made her pulse leap.

  “Aren’t you holding me a little too close?” she asked, striving to put more distance between them.

  He chuckled. “Newly married couples do that. You dance beautifully.” His voice thickened with approval. “That comeback you made to Fred about the ring was exceptional.”

  “My claim to fame,” she teased, pleased by his compliment. “I’m a very good liar.”

  “Remind me to buy you a ring and make an honest woman out of you.”

  She stumbled. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I think it is.”

  He was a smooth, confident dancer, and she had no trouble following his lead. With one hand on the small of her back, he shot heat straight through her dress. And her pulse kicked up another notch.

  His arms tightened around her. His tone was husky in her ear. “If everyone believes we’re married, then the stalker might realize you’re under my protection and back off.”

  Disappointment flowed through her at the reminder. Every move he made was for the children. She should know that by now. No doubt he was dancing with her, holding her close, in hopes the stalker was in the room. He was signaling that she was his, marking his territory in a way as old as time.

  And she didn’t mind one bit.

  She liked the idea of his protecting her. She liked the cherishing look in his eyes, the sensation of his solid shoulder under her hand, the way his arms made her feel safe. Warm. Contented.

  It’s not real.

  So what?

  For once, she put her practical side behind. She’d pretend this was a normal evening out for a real husband and wife.

  Protected in Craig’s arms, she dreamily laid her head against his chest. His footsteps slowed until they were
barely moving, just swaying together on the dance floor.

  His hand, naughtily suggestive, swirled sensual circles on her arm that sent tiny electric shocks over her skin. With each breath, she grew more aware of him, and she couldn’t contain a sigh of unmistakable pleasure. Desire coursed through her, strong and hard. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted him to sweep her into his arms, carry her off to bed. She wanted to know what it was like to make love with a man who respected her. She wanted to see what would happen to all the emotions that swirled inside, making her first icy hot, then steaming cold.

  Backing away would be prudent. Following through on her blossoming desires would be a mistake. Her common sense argued for restraint, but when his mouth brushed her forehead and cheek, she wanted to give in to the need to discover if Craig was different enough to sustain this wonderful, floating excitement. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but she didn’t want this moment to end.

  The music concluded, and Craig drew away with a smile so devastating her body temperature rose a degree. His gaze met hers straight on and stunned her as if someone had stolen the air right out of her lungs. With some effort, she resisted the urge to throw herself back into his arms.

  Forcing her eyes away, she watched Gran and Fred approach. In a romantic daze, she and Gran switched partners.

  She was dancing with Fred, who was probably a much better dancer than Craig—but the magic was gone. Chemistry was such a strange thing. Briefly, she wondered what caused her to be so attracted to Craig but to feel nothing but brotherly affection for Fred, who was kind and just as attractive in his own way.

  “I know you hate it when Kendrick and Bob fight,” Fred told her. “You needn’t worry about your Uncle Bob. He hasn’t gone near Kendrick.”

  “Thanks. You’ve been a good friend to Gran and me.”

  Dancing with Fred was comfortable. They’d known each other since they were kids. Perhaps he was too familiar to ever be exciting.

  But what had gone wrong between her and Kendrick? Different values, different commitments to what each found important? Perhaps she’d never know.