Mistaken for a Mistress Read online

  Millie’s intuition was as amazing as her youthful attitude, something Kerry had learned a long time ago. “Okay, I might have gotten a good-night kiss.” In reality, she had delivered that kiss.

  “Who is this young man?”

  Kerry curled her legs beneath her. “Don’t laugh, but he’s a Midwest farmer in town on vacation. I met him tonight.”

  Millie looked both surprised and concerned. “You kissed a complete stranger?”

  Kerry felt the beginnings of a blush. “It was only a simple kiss.” Yet there had been nothing simple about it. She still felt the effects, remembered the sensations, wanted more of the same.

  Pushing up from the chair, Millie crossed the room with measured steps. Kerry had noticed her frailty more and more each day, and that made her heart ache.

  Millie settled in beside her on the sofa and took Kerry’s hands into hers. “Kerry Ann, when you came to live with me, you were a scared child, full of anger and suspicion, and rightfully so. Since that time, you’ve blossomed into a more secure woman. Yet I’m concerned that you are still very vulnerable.”

  “What are you saying?” As if Kerry didn’t know.

  “I want you to open yourself to possibilities where men are concerned, but I also want you to be careful. I would hate to see you fall in love too quickly or trust too much.”

  “I just met him, for heaven’s sake. I’m not in love with him.” But she had to admit, she was very drawn to him. Almost to extremes. “Besides, he’ll be leaving in a couple of days.”

  “Precisely, but one can make grave errors in judgment in two days’ time.”

  Kerry pulled her hands from Millie’s grasp and lowered her gaze to the miniature Buddha sitting in the middle of the coffee table. “It’s not that big a deal, Millie. I’m only going to show him around tomorrow.”

  “Perhaps you would like me to chaperone to ensure your safety.”

  Wouldn’t that be lovely? “That’s not necessary, Millie. We’ll be out in public. I’m just going to take him to a few places around town.”

  “He could very well try to take you a few places—none having to do with tourism.”

  Kerry glanced up to meet Millie’s somber expression. “You haven’t even met him yet.”

  “True, so do bring him by for afternoon tea. Unless you are otherwise occupied, or fear that I might steal him away.”

  Kerry smiled in response to Millie’s sudden mischievous grin. “Actually, that could be a problem with your charm and his incredible looks.”

  “Then he is handsome?”

  Oh, yes. “You could say that.”

  “I will have to judge for myself, and suppose I will have to trust your judgment, as well.” She pushed off the sofa and faced Kerry. “Now I’m going upstairs since it’s getting late.”

  “I’ll be up in a minute to brush your hair.” Something Kerry had done for the past ten years for her mentor, such a small gesture in light of everything Millie had done for her.

  Millie waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “That won’t be necessary, darling. You must get your rest tonight and prepare for your day tomorrow. I want you to be totally cognizant of your actions.”

  After Millie headed away to make the slow journey up the stairs, Kerry remained on the sofa and pondered Millie’s words. Maybe she was being foolish. Maybe she was taking too big a chance. But in her heart of hearts she truly believed she could trust Ford Matthews.

  Ford sensed Kerry was beginning to trust him, and although that’s exactly what he’d planned, he was also beginning to feel like a jerk. But he still had to remember what he hoped to accomplish. Losing control wasn’t a part of the scheme, although that’s exactly what he had almost done when she’d kissed him.

  Tomorrow he would take it easy with her. He’d spend the time necessary to get her to talk to him about the murder. Beyond that, he couldn’t allow anything else to happen between them.

  But hell, he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to do a lot more than that.

  Right now he needed to call home. Grabbing the tableside phone, Ford pounded out the number and waited, hoping his brother-in-law answered and not his sister. Chances were, Abby had spent a good part of her day fuming since he’d spoken to her husband before he’d left the hotel instead of her.

  “Speak.”

  Damn, for once he’d lucked out. “Hey, Russ. How’s it going?”

  “If you mean how’s your sister, I’m going to let her answer that.”

  “Wait a minute, I need to talk to you before—”

  “Ford Ashton, you are in so much trouble you’re going to need a backhoe to dig out of it.”

  And she would be driving the backhoe, heading straight for him. “Good evening to you, too, sis.”

  “Why haven’t you called before now? I’ve been sitting here, waiting to hear why you suddenly decided to take a trip to California.”

  Obviously, the story hadn’t made the local news out of North Platte, and cable TV was a nonentity in Crawley. Maybe this time that was a blessing. At least he could break it to her gently. “They had Grant’s bail hearing today.”

  She drew in a harsh breath. “Bail hearing? They’ve arrested him?”

  “Yeah, and the worst part is, they’re going to keep him in jail until the trial. They’re afraid he’s going to skip out.”

  “Oh, God. Did you talk to him?”

  “No. He’s not allowed any visitors.”

  “This is insane! Uncle Grant couldn’t have done this.”

  He hated hearing Abby so upset, especially because of the pregnancy. He knew enough to know that carrying twins was risky enough without emotional stress. “Calm down, Abby. I’m going to clear him of the charges if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  He explained Kerry’s affiliation with Spencer before launching into his plan to garner information from her. When he was finished, Abby asked, “Is she pretty?”

  Pretty wasn’t the half of it. “Yeah, she is.”

  “Oh, wonderful. I hope you keep your little brain from taking over your big brain.”

  “Not funny, Abby. This is serious business. I’m seeing her to get information, not to seduce her. Besides, so far she seems fairly nice.” Very nice, unpretentious, and that’s what bugged Ford the most. Maybe everyone had been wrong about her.

  “You know something, Ford? Maybe you should seduce her, if that’s the only way you can get information.”

  “You don’t mean that, Abby.”

  “Normally I wouldn’t even consider such a thing. But if this woman is responsible for the murder, or if she’s protecting the real killer, then I say you pull out all the stops and do what you have to do. This is Grant’s life we’re talking about here. Literally. He could receive the maximum penalty for something he didn’t do.”

  He could be executed, what Abby had failed to say, but Ford got her meaning, loud and clear. He couldn’t stomach the thought of Grant suffering that fate. He couldn’t stand the thought of him spending his life in jail, either.

  “I agree, Abby. I intend to do whatever I can to clear him. But Grant also stressed to us the importance of honesty and respect. I’m lying to this woman, and if she’s not responsible for any of it, then I’m in the wrong, and I’m going to have to live with that.”

  “Ford, you’ve always been fairly cavalier with relationships with women. Don’t let this one turn your head around until you can’t see straight.”

  At times he believed Kerry Roarke was already clouding his judgment, and he’d only known her for about five hours. Which made spending all day with her dicey. But he had no choice. “I’ll do what I have to do, Abby. And if this all turns out to be a dead end, I’m not going to give up. I’ll stay here until I find out who really did this and see Grant walk out of that hell-hole.”

  “I wish I could be there with you.”

  Ford hated the hint of tears in Abby’s voice. Abby rarely cried, but he could understand
why she would feel the need. “You’ve got to think about the babies and your health, Abby. This is already stressful enough for you.”

  “Yes, but I’ll handle it. Besides, I have Russ.”

  Thank God she did have Russ, and although Ford was happy she’d found a life partner, at times he envied them both. “Speaking of Russ, tell him thanks again for keeping the place in order.”

  “I will. Between him and Buck, everything will get done.”

  Thank God for Buck Collier, too. The foreman had been around for as long as Ford could remember. In many ways, he’d also served as a surrogate father. At least the men in his and Abby’s lives had been great role models. “I’m going to let you go now. Try to get some rest.”

  “You, too, Ford. And be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Hurt? Where had that come from? Ford Ashton didn’t get hurt. He never allowed himself that emotion, not since the day his mother had walked out the door and never returned. He vowed he never would. “I’ll be fine, Abby. And if I can find some way to get word to Grant, I’ll send him your love.”

  “You do that. And in the meantime, call every now and then, will you?”

  “I’ll stay in touch when I have the chance.” But tomorrow that might be impossible. Tomorrow he planned to be occupied by Kerry Roarke.

  After hanging up from his sister, Ford stripped out of all of his clothes and lay across the bed, a glass half-full of minibar whiskey resting on his bare chest. He didn’t like feeling this way, at war with his honor and, worse, battling his libido. Kerry had definitely stirred up big trouble, maybe more than he could handle. Right now he had to get a grip on some serious strength. Otherwise, their little sightseeing trip and his fact-finding expedition might get thrown over for a totally different kind of journey. One that involved a good-looking lady who could kiss way too well, and a hot-blooded man who hadn’t kept company with a woman of her caliber in quite some time, if ever. A deadly combination. He’d just have to keep his head on straight.

  Three

  T he minute Ford walked out of the Royalbrook Hotel’s revolving doors, his head started spinning. Parked in the circular drive beneath the portico sat a little red Mustang convertible with the top down. And behind the wheel of that hot little car was an equally hot blonde, her hair secured high atop her head, sunglasses concealing her eyes. But Ford remembered every detail of those eyes without having to see them this morning.

  He approached the car, gave it a long glance and whistled. “Nice wheels. Mind if I come along for the ride?”

  She patted the passenger seat. “Sure. Hop in. I’m in the mood for a little adventure.”

  Ford shouldn’t be in the mood for adventure, but unfortunately, he couldn’t deny that he’d looked forward to today. After seeing her dressed in a blue, sleeveless, striped top that tied at the neck and showed a lot of bare arms and back, he also couldn’t deny that a strong sense of awareness had begun to surface. The solid matching skirt that came to her thighs only made matters worse, and threatened to make him forget his goal.

  This whole day trip was about information, not about his attraction to Kerry Roarke. This outing served only as a means to an end, a way to obtain information that could prove his uncle innocent. That was all it was, all it should be, and nothing more.

  On that thought, Ford rounded the car and climbed into the passenger side. He powered the seat back to accommodate his legs and studied her for a moment. “You told me you never owned a Mustang.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t own it. I rented it. It’s all ours until tomorrow.”

  Ford didn’t want to consider what tomorrow might bring. He was more interested in the here and now. And her. “What’s on the agenda?”

  She checked her mirrors, then steered down the drive. “Just a few sights I’d like to show you in the city.”

  As far as he was concerned, the best sight was sitting beside him—a portrait of prime woman. “Okay. You’re the tour guide.”

  As they began their journey, Ford learned two very important things in a brief time—San Francisco streets qualified as an amusement ride, although he didn’t exactly find them amusing. And Kerry Roarke enjoyed driving fast. She skipped the infamous Lombard Street and opted to take him down a less traveled but equally crooked road—laughing all the way. She traveled through Chinatown past the open-air markets and eventually drove down California Street and into the financial district. Ford noted an immediate change in her when they passed by a historic-looking high-rise.

  “That’s Ashton-Lattimer,” she said with a wave of her hand and a frown on her face. “My workplace.”

  Ford sent a cursory glance in the building’s direction—the place where Spencer had been murdered. Maybe that was the reason for her sudden mood change. “Looks like it’s been around for a while.”

  “It has, since right after the big quake.”

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Entirely too long.”

  “I’m guessing you don’t like your job.”

  They stopped for a light, her grip tight on the wheel. “Not particularly.”

  “You liked what you did before your boss was killed?”

  “The job was fine. But as I told you last night, I can’t say the same for my boss.”

  Ford wondered if she’d been jilted by his grandfather or just disgusted. “That must be tough, working for someone you don’t like.”

  “I managed. And now for the best part of the tour.”

  Deciding to drop the subject for now, Ford sat back while Kerry took him on a scenic drive around a road that spanned the coastline. Again she resumed tour guide status, pointing out various sights in the city. But all Ford could see were the slight strands of hair raining down from her ponytail, the movement of her lips as she talked, the line of her arm and outline of breasts. Several times he had to force his gaze away from her and back on the sights.

  After they’d completed the scenic drive, Kerry took him to Fisherman’s Wharf where they strolled past shops concentrated in an area that was twice the size of downtown Crawley. Several times he laid a palm on the small of her back, as if they were any other couple out for a routine Saturday excursion. And several times he’d been tempted to kiss her. He definitely had to hand it to his grandfather—the lying bastard had good taste in assistants. And maybe this particular one had suffered through enough of his disregard for women that she’d taken matters into her own hands. But Kerry Roarke a murderer? He was still having one helluva time believing that, more than before.

  Following an hour of acting like serious tourists, Kerry ushered Ford back into the car for a trip to Golden Gate Park. He soon found himself seated in a rowboat on an emerald-green lake, picnic basket onboard, oars in hand, facing a woman who looked every bit the celestial being. The noon sky had become overcast, causing Kerry to discard the sunglasses. Now Ford had a first-rate view of her violet eyes, and he couldn’t think of anything more fatal to his control. Except when she crossed her legs and the skirt crept higher. Not to mention the view of her cleavage and breasts that he suspected were unencumbered beneath the top. If it cooled off any more, he’d probably know for sure. If he didn’t cool off, he might try to find out with his hands.

  Unaware of Ford’s questionable thoughts, Kerry gestured to an impressive waterfall and propped the basket on her lap, preventing him from staring at her thighs. “Row over there and we can have some lunch.”

  Ford complied, skirting a paddleboat navigated by a teenage boy who seemed more interested in making out with his girlfriend than steering.

  “Maybe someone should tell them to find a backseat,” Kerry said as she spread a blue-checked tablecloth on the deck between them.

  He returned her smile, although he had to force it around a vision of finding himself in the backseat of a Mustang—with her. “Yeah. Must be nice, being so young that you don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.”

  After they pulled alongside a rock border separating t
he falls from the lake, Kerry pulled out two bright-pink plastic plates and handed him one. “I can’t say that I’ve ever been quite that carefree.”

  “You’ve never necked on a paddleboat?”

  “No. Have you?”

  “Nope. Not too many of those in Nebraska.”

  “Nebraska? I thought you lived in Kansas.”

  Oh, hell. “I went to college in Nebraska. I was a little more daring at that age, more inclined to take risks.”

  Fortunately for Ford, Kerry seemed satisfied with that answer. “I’m originally from Seattle,” she said as she went back to unloading the basket.

  “How did you end up in San Francisco?”

  “Blind luck, actually. When I decided to leave home, I got out a map, closed my eyes and pointed. San Francisco was the largest city closest to my finger.”

  Although she sounded amused, Ford saw a flash of pain cross her expression before she lowered her gaze. “Didn’t your folks have something to say about that?”

  “My mother died when I was fourteen. My dad died before I was born, in a logging accident.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Who raised you after she died?”

  “My stepfather was my legal guardian, but I can’t say he was all that active in my raising. He had a lot of money but very little compassion, so I got out from under his thumb as soon as I was old enough to survive on my own. He was always taking but rarely giving back. I’ve found that to be true with most wealthy men.”

  An accurate description of Spencer Ashton. But Ford wanted to tell her that not all men with means bore that label. “That must be tough, settling in a strange city, alone.”

  “It wasn’t so tough after I met Millie.”

  “Millie?”

  “Millicent Vandiver, my landlady. She’s a former actress and very dramatic, but she has a heart of gold. She took me in and I’ve been with her ever since. She’s the one who packed our lunch.”

  “You’ll have to thank her for me.”

  “Maybe you can meet her and thank her yourself. She’s quite a character.” Kerry popped open one plastic container and held it out to him. “Hope you like chicken salad.”