Mistaken for a Mistress Page 3

  “Steak.”

  She wrinkled her nose. Beef was by no means her favorite fare. “Since you’re in town, maybe you should try something different. Something exotic.”

  “I can do exotic. I’m not exactly opposed to taking a few risks.”

  Kerry had given up risks a while back, but for some reason, this man with the sparkling blue eyes, buff body and stunning mouth had her wanting to take a few risks. Small risks, she reminded herself. Having dinner in the daylight in a crowded restaurant would meet that criteria, as long as she left him with only a handshake.

  Sliding from the stool, Kerry leaned down, grabbed her purse and smoothed a hand down her skirt. “Okay, Farmer Ford, I’m going to take you to one of my favorite places for a great meal, and I’m going to give you instructions on where you should go while you’re in town. As long as you’re buying.”

  He rose from the stool and stood before her, six feet of solid, electrifying male. “That’s an offer I’m not going to refuse.”

  That was the only offer Kerry Roarke intended to make tonight.

  Two

  F ord had a plan—a chance meeting, some casual conversation, earning her trust and finding out what she knew about the murder. Except, he hadn’t exactly planned on Kerry Roarke’s appeal.

  He would like to hog-tie Walker Ashton for not sufficiently warning him. He’d only provided the name of the bar where the office staff hung out on Fridays and a general description of Kerry—blond hair, light-colored eyes, about five-seven. He hadn’t bothered to mention those eyes were a color Ford had only heard about until now—violet. He also hadn’t mentioned that her hair fell to the middle of her back and that her body was anything but nondescript, even if she was hiding some serious curves beneath a conservative black jacket and skirt. And damn if she didn’t have a dimple. Not dimples like his and Abby’s. A Shirley Temple dimple, right in the left corner of her incredible mouth. Thanks to his sister, he’d endured hours of classic movies featuring the precocious kid, otherwise he wouldn’t even know what a Shirley Temple dimple was.

  All that aside, he had to admit Kerry Roarke was fairly nice to be around. Maybe too nice. He had to remember that she’d been his grandfather’s premortem flavor-of-the-moment, and she could hold important information about the murder. She might even be responsible, as Cole and Caroline had suggested.

  At the moment, she was holding him captive with her mouth as they dined in the high-class eatery situated in an upscale hotel not far from his own hotel. She’d wanted to take him someplace more casual, a popular Italian grill full of people, until he’d convinced her he didn’t mind paying more for some quiet. Although he’d had to tip big to get seated because of his jeans, the restaurant wasn’t all that crowded and the noise wasn’t at all intrusive, allowing them to hold a decent conversation. An easy conversation about nothing in particular. He’d answered her questions when she’d asked, and so far he hadn’t slipped up and blown his cover. Yet.

  Following a slight break in their almost nonstop dialogue, Kerry dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before regarding the remnants of his so-called dinner. “You didn’t eat very much.”

  “I’m not as hungry as I thought.” Nor did he have a fondness for French cuisine or fowl.

  “You didn’t like the duck.” She sounded disappointed, and for some reason that bothered Ford.

  He took another bite to appease her. “It’s just a little rich for my taste.”

  Tossing her napkin aside, she sat back and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Well, I admire you for trying the escargot, even though I warned you. Guess you learned your lesson, huh?”

  Little did she know, he’d figured that out at a bistro in Paris. A little garlic and a lot of butter didn’t mask what they were—snails. A lesson he’d learned a while back. But he had a feeling keeping up the farm-boy front might be more tricky than disguising his vast dietary experiences. So might keeping his distance from her because, despite who she was, he couldn’t deny she was classically beautiful and damn tempting. But until proven otherwise, she was a member of the enemy camp, a woman who helped put his uncle behind bars. A woman who could know important details. He had to remember that, not only tonight but for the rest of the time he planned to spend in her company, if his plan worked.

  After pushing her plate aside, she eyed the black folder holding the check, resting next to Ford’s arm. “Do you want to split the bill?”

  “No, ma’am. I’ve got it.” Ford took out his wallet and paid the exorbitant total with cash, including another substantial tip. At this rate he was going to have to find an ATM, since he didn’t dare bring out a credit card with his real name. “Are you ready to go now?”

  “Sure.”

  When he rounded the table and pulled her chair back, she stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “This is rather strange.”

  “What’s strange?”

  She accepted the hand he offered and stood. “You’re a gentleman, and that’s a rare breed these days.”

  If she knew he’d been lying to her—about his name, the missing driver’s license, his real reasons for being in town and being with her—she wouldn’t find him gentlemanly at all. And that was something Ford had a hard time dealing with. His uncle had taught him that lying was one of the most dishonorable things a man could do, especially to a woman. He wasn’t in the habit of lying to women. Normally, he let them know upfront he wasn’t looking for a serious relationship. If that wasn’t okay with them, then he’d let them go without any argument. A lonely life at times, but he wasn’t ready to settle down, and he wasn’t sure he would ever be. Not if he ran the risk that he’d fall for some woman who’d get tired of living in the middle of nowhere, then take off the way his mother had.

  At least that wouldn’t be a problem with this particular woman, he thought as they headed out of the hotel. As soon as he got what he needed from Kerry Roarke, he would walk away.

  “Do you want to walk awhile?” Kerry asked after they moved through the sliding doors and onto the sidewalk.

  He paused to face her, coming in contact with those killer eyes. “You’re the guide. Lead on.”

  “We’re only going a block or so,” she said as they headed up the street.

  Kerry walked fast but Ford managed to keep up with her. He suspected she did everything in a rush, from talk to eat, but then, considering what he’d seen of the city that day, it seemed everyone was in a hurry. After about a block or so, she crossed the sloped street, led him into a nicely landscaped, well-lit park and showed him to a bench across from a fountain, their backs to a row of buildings, an impressive cathedral looming large in the distance. The sun had set completely, leaving the sky a hazy shade of oranges and blues. Ford settled beside her, careful to keep a decent space between them. Otherwise he might forget his goal, especially when she crossed her legs and her skirt rode up higher on her thigh. He fought the urge to stare. He fought even harder the temptation to touch.

  She sat back and sighed. “I love this place in the evening, especially all the people. Take that woman across the way, walking her dog.”

  Reluctantly he turned his attention from Kerry’s legs to an elderly lady wearing an odd, flower-bedecked hat and gloves, her prissy four-legged hairball sporting a diamond-studded collar. “That’s pretty interesting.” And not so unlike some of the snooty women in Crawley, at least as far as the hat and attitude went.

  “I guess San Francisco might seem strange to someone who lives on a farm,” Kerry said. “All of the chaos and eccentrics.”

  “Yeah. I’m not used to seeing so many people milling around.” Somewhat of a lie since he’d seen his share of big cities in the process of hawking his patented livestock feed to various companies. But he wasn’t going to tell her any of that, especially since she’d told him several times at dinner how she appreciated spending time with a “common farmer.” True, he had the soul of a farmer, but he had a bank account that far exceeded most men who made a living off the l
and.

  He shifted to face her and laid an arm over the back of the bench, fighting the urge to touch that incredible fall of blond hair. “Do you like living here?”

  “Sure. It’s an exciting place.” She turned those violet eyes on him again. “And some might say it’s romantic, although I can’t speak from personal experience.”

  Ford’s experience had been limited lately too. Three months had passed since he’d visited a “special” female friend in Lincoln. A month ago, she’d moved to Chicago, and Ford had moved into celibacy, but not by choice. “Sounds like the perfect place to live if you’re into that sort of thing.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Like every other big city, it has its downside.”

  Ford noted the weariness in her tone, as if she’d personally experienced that downside. A good lead-in. “I imagine it does, especially if you can’t go to work without worrying about your boss being murdered.”

  “Honestly, he wasn’t necessarily a nice man. Charming on the surface, but he tended to use that, and money, to get what he wanted. That’s why I’m not surprised someone got tired of it and took matters into their own hands.”

  But was that someone her? Ford couldn’t imagine that any woman with such an angelic face and pleasant disposition could actually be involved in a murder. Yet she’d basically echoed exactly what Caroline had said about Spencer. Someone had grown tired of his treachery and had done something about it. “Do they know who did it?”

  “They’ve arrested his son.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and stared straight head. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “No problem.” As far as Ford was concerned, they had plenty of time to get into that. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “We could discuss what we originally intended to discuss, your tour of the city. I need to know your starting point, so where are you staying?”

  Ford hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “We passed it back there. The Royalbrook Hotel.”

  She looked surprised. “That’s a ritzy place for someone on a tight budget.”

  “Well, I don’t get out all that much, so I decided to go for broke and stay at the best. I even have a suite with a couple of couches and one of those minibars. Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.” More lies. Ford had stayed in many hotel suites with minibars. And Cole had directed him to the hotel because of the proximity to the financial district, and the Ashton-Lattimer offices. Money wasn’t an issue.

  Kerry toyed with the hem of her skirt, drawing Ford’s immediate attention. “I guess a suite might come in handy, in case you meet an interesting woman you’d like to entertain.”

  “I’ve already met one.” And that was the absolute truth.

  Even in the limited light, he could see a blush on her cheeks, making her all the more pretty. “I don’t know how interesting I am, but I do know the city like the back of my hand. The good, the not so good, and the ugly.” She lowered her gaze to her lap. “Since tomorrow’s Saturday, maybe I could be your personal tour guide.”

  The plan was now in place, and better still, it was her idea. “I could go for that in a heartbeat. If you’re not going to upset some boyfriend.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend, so that’s not a problem.”

  A good thing, Ford decided. But his attraction to her wasn’t good at all. It was hazardous. He would just have to keep his urges in check and a firm grip on his control and goal. “What time do you want to meet up?”

  “How about 9 a.m.? I’ll pick you up in front of the hotel.”

  “In a car?”

  She smiled. “I don’t think I want to carry you on my back up and down the streets of San Francisco.”

  Ford laughed, all the while thinking he’d like to carry her to bed. Another hazardous thought. “Okay, 9 a.m. in front of the hotel.”

  She secured her purse strap over her shoulder. “Great. Now that that’s settled, I should be going home.”

  “Where is home?”

  She pointed in the direction opposite the hotel. “That way.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “I’m on foot. The parking downtown is ridiculous, and public transportation’s readily available and cheap. But I can walk home from here.”

  They stood at the same time, coming into close enough contact to make Ford more than uncomfortable. “I can walk you home.”

  “That’s not necessary. It’s not that far, and the area is fairly safe.”

  “That may be, but where I come from, men escort women to their doorstep.”

  She straightened the lapels on his jacket. “But I’m not a defenseless woman, Ford Matthews. In fact, I’m a lot tougher than I seem.”

  Maybe even tough enough to have had her boss killed. She might be that tough, but right now Ford was having a huge moment of weakness, especially when she wet her lips. “Guess I’m going to have to behave myself so I don’t give you a reason to slug me.”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily slug you if you misbehaved a little.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  She moved closer until very little space separated them. “Nothing too naughty, of course.”

  Ford was having some fairly “naughty” thoughts at the moment. In fact, they could be deemed as downright dirty. Right now he really wanted to kiss her, but he realized the lack of good judgment in that. Obviously, Kerry didn’t, because before Ford could brace himself, she wrapped one slender hand around his neck and brought his mouth to hers.

  He’d never refused a kiss from a beautiful woman before, and he sure as hell had no desire to do that right now. Not when her sinful lips contrasted with her angelic face. Not when he could no longer resist wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him. Not even when the kiss took on a definite wildness, growing deeper and deeper with every passing moment.

  Kerry pulled away first and touched her fingertips to her lips, her blush a deeper shade of pink. “I’m sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.”

  If she only knew what was stirring below his belt, she’d realize she wasn’t alone. “I’m not sorry at all.” Another truth among the lies, but he had to keep a tight rein on reality, and that meant not getting totally caught in her web.

  She released a small, self-conscious laugh. “Just so you know, I don’t normally behave that way. I’ve never kissed anyone I’ve just met. I’ve never wanted to.”

  Ford couldn’t say the same thing, another fact he decided to keep to himself in a long line of many. “We’ll just chalk it up to the moonlight.”

  She studied the darkening hazy sky. “I don’t see any moon.”

  He took a moment to admire her, and found himself wishing things were different. Wishing they had met under different circumstances, and that she was all she appeared to be—a gorgeous woman, fresh and unassuming. And incapable of being a mistress or a murderer. “Maybe it’s not out yet.”

  She settled her gaze on his. “Maybe it will be out tomorrow night.”

  Knowing she planned to spend that much time with him pleased Ford, but not for the reasons it should. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Nine o’clock sharp,” she said as she began backing away.

  He slipped his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Are you sure you don’t want me to escort you home?”

  She paused on the walkway, the fountain behind her providing a nice backdrop for her beauty. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I might ask you to come in, and something tells me that might be dangerous.”

  With that, she walked away, leaving Ford frozen where he stood as he watched the sway of her hips. No doubt danger lurked around every curve, especially hers. If he had walked her home and she had asked him in, he wasn’t sure what he might have done. Probably nothing that would be considered sensible.

  When she was no longer in sight, Ford left the park for the hotel. He had a lot to think about tonight, and a few things to do, namel
y call home. After that, he’d take a shower and go to bed in order to be well rested for his excursion with Kerry Roarke. And he suspected that prospect could very well keep him up all night.

  Kerry closed the front door behind her and fell back against it. If luck prevailed, Millie might already be in bed. Otherwise, she could be in for questions she didn’t want to answer.

  “What have you been doing, young lady?”

  So much for luck. Kerry strolled into the cluttered living room to find Millicent Lantry Morrow Vandiver seated in the red brocade wingback chair midmanicure, a turquoise turban wrapped around her hair to complement the matching caftan. She looked much younger than her seventy-eight years, thanks to a few facelifts that left her eyes a bit sunken, but her skin virtually wrinkle free. She was elegantly unconventional, a woman with a heart of gold who’d survived three husbands and had a penchant for picking up strays. Kerry was no exception to that, except that she’d remained with Millie much longer than most.

  Tossing her purse aside, Kerry collapsed onto the weathered gold sofa that had seen its share of visitors, from out-of-work actors to persistent suitors to strung-out kids, according to its owner. She reached down and slipped off her heels, her feet greatly in need of a good soak. When she glanced up and noticed Millie was still awaiting an answer, she said, as nonchalantly as possible, “I’ve been out to dinner with a friend.”

  Millie resumed filing her nails. “You’ve been out kissing someone.”

  Momentarily stunned and speechless, Kerry gaped a good thirty seconds before she asked, “Why would you think that?”

  She waved the fingernail file around like a maestro conducting an orchestra. “My dear, you have that look about you. You’re veritably glowing. And your lipstick is smeared.”

  Kerry automatically swiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “How do you know I didn’t mess it up during dinner?”

  Millie set the file aside and folded her hands primly in her lap. “My angel, I have been married many times, and in love at least four times as many. I know when a woman has been keeping company with a young man.”