Fake I.D. Wife

by Patricia Rosemoor

  He wanted to get back to her interest in Mitchell House. Instinct told him she had something—or lots of somethings—he could use.

  Certain he would have to dig deep, he would start by getting her to admit to a small truth. “So why are you really here?”

  Having pulled herself together, Elise said, “Call it a whim.”

  “You came all the way to North Bluff on a whim?”

  “Maybe I heard you rented this place and wanted to see it for myself.”

  Not a bad liar. She was looking at him steadily. He couldn’t help playing her. “So you’re interested in me, are you? I wouldn’t mind.” Not a bit, even though it was a bad idea. Cops and offenders didn’t mix. Or shouldn’t. But for the moment, he had to let her think he was going along with it. He smiled and opened his hands. “Well, then, I’m yours for the taking.”

  That shook her composure. She shot to her feet, saying, “I need to freshen up.”

  Amused at her reaction, Logan said, “Go back through the dining room, but use the other door, the one that goes to the kitchen. The powder room is to the left of the stairs, kind of hidden in the paneling.”

  “I’ll find it.”

  Once the panel door had closed behind her, Logan checked the jacket she’d left behind. One pocket gave up nothing more telling than sunglasses, tissues and a lip gloss. In the other, he found a small wallet. No credit cards. No insurance or auto club or library card. Nothing else to confirm her identity. They’d have to fix that, just in case. Not much money, either. Several tens and half a dozen singles.

  Though he didn’t know what he was looking for, he was disappointed that he didn’t find it.

  About to snap the leather shut, Logan noticed a colored edge behind a flap. He fished out a photograph of a toddler with blond curls seated in front of a Christmas tree.

  The Mitchell kid, of course. Elise’s son Eric.

  The photograph was tattered, as if she’d taken it out to look at it over and over. That fact unsettled him, made him wonder about the truth.

  And then he got real.

  So she loved her son. So what? That didn’t make her a saint, it didn’t make her not a killer. That didn’t mean she was innocent in any sense of the word. How could she be innocent when she’d lived in that nest of vipers?

  Hearing the toilet flush, he shoved the photo back into the wallet and returned it to the jacket pocket. By the time footsteps creaked across the old dining room floor, Logan was reseated in his chair.

  No need to clue her in to his doings any more than he had to.

  His gaze narrowing, he watched her return and again wondered how best to broach his proposal.

  ELISE WAS AWARE of the way Logan Smith’s steely eyes pinned her the moment she reentered the room.

  The power of his gaze made her uncomfortable, made her feel as if he were mentally undressing her…but the feeling wasn’t sexual. It was far more invasive. Scary.

  What the hell was he doing here, anyway?

  Her pulse picked up in warning. No panic attack, she told herself. You have to keep your head. She never should have agreed to the drink. She should have turned and run in the opposite direction.

  And then what?

  “Well, I think I’d better get going,” she said, hoping for a reprieve, a chance to discuss the situation with Cass. Maybe her friend knew something.

  “No, stay. Finish your water, at least. We need to talk.”

  Talk about what? About why he’d moved in to this particular house? And about how he’d been able to afford it, even as a rental?

  Before she could respond, the doorbell rang.

  “You have company.” She picked up her jacket. “I’d just be in the way.”

  “I’m not expecting anyone,” he said, already heading for the door.

  Elise slipped back into her jacket and was zipping it up, ready to make her escape, when she heard a feminine laugh punctuating a muffled conversation, then the sound of heels clicking closer.

  “It’s so exciting to have a new neighbor. I won’t take no for an answer, Logan. I want to welcome you to your new home properly by inviting you to come over to Mitchell House and have dinner with me.”

  Recognizing the voice, Elise froze and her mouth went dry. Even though she’d known it was possible to come face-to-face with one of them, she wasn’t prepared for this.

  “You’re not obligated to feed every new person in the neighborhood, I hope,” Logan protested as he led the woman onto the porch.

  “You’d be doing me a favor. Kyle and his family and Mother are going out to another fund-raiser for his campaign.” Carol Mitchell’s voice trailed off as she got a good look at Elise. “Oh…I didn’t realize you already had company.” She inched forward. Her amber eyes narrowed and her head tilted quizzically. “Have we met?”

  Elise went cold inside. How was she going to get out of this one? She couldn’t think, couldn’t move—not even when Logan wrapped an arm around her back.

  “It’s impossible that you two would have met,” Logan said. “Nicole has never been here before. As a matter of fact, she just arrived in town this morning. Carol Mitchell, meet Nicole Hudson Smith…my new wife.”

  Chapter Four

  “Wife?” Carol Mitchell quickly covered her surprise and obvious disappointment. “And a newly obtained one, at that. Well, congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Elise choked out.

  She was trapped, and apparently she knew it. Logan congratulated himself on how easily this had worked out. No need for him to make the proposal. No need to counter her denials. No need for negotiation.

  He had a done deal without even trying.

  “The invitation is still open, of course,” Carol said, though her tone was void of her initial enthusiasm.

  “Actually, we already have plans for tonight,” Logan said. “Perhaps a rain check?”

  “Yes, of course.” Carol looked around. “So you bought this place furnished.”

  “Actually, we’re trying it out, with the option of buying,” Logan lied.

  “Ah, right, then no need to invest in furnishings until you’re sure. I suppose living with these old things would be doable for a few months.”

  “Actually, Miss Henrietta had wonderful taste.” Elise shot to the late owner’s defense. “Some things are sadly old, of course, but others are too beautiful to be put aside.”

  “Miss Henrietta? Did you know her?”

  Logan felt her stiffen, but before he could think of a way to cover, she did.

  “I—I just feel as if I did know her, living among her things and all.”

  “In less than a day?” Carol’s eyebrows arched. “If you say so.” Then she shrugged and turned to go. “I guess I’ll leave you lovebirds alone.”

  “I’ll see you out,” Logan said, patting Elise, then following their neighbor.

  He could feel Elise’s glare burning into the middle of his back, all the way to the front door. He continued looking after their uninvited guest until Carol Mitchell ducked through a narrow break in the hedge.

  Then he turned back to face the music. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as smooth as he’d hoped. But what was Elise going to do?

  Refuse to cooperate? Lose a chance at being near her kid? Not likely.

  But he knew that didn’t mean she had to accept the plan without making some noise.

  Standing before the couch, her stance militant, she glared at him. “So what the hell was that?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I’m not the one who lied about our being married.”

  “You didn’t deny it.”

  Shrugging that off, she demanded, “Why? You know, don’t you.”

  He figured he might as well lay his cards on the table. “That you’re Elise Mitchell, yes.”

  She practically fell back onto the couch as if all the wind had been knocked out of her, as if she had nothing left to hold her up. She was shaking and her breathing was labored.

  “I don�
��t understand,” she said.

  “I’m helping you get what you want.”

  “Which is?”

  “Get closer to your son.”

  Moaning, she dropped her head below her knees and took long, slow breaths. She seemed to be fighting a panic attack, and it affected him more than he’d expected.

  “This is the perfect plan,” he assured her. “You’ll get to see Eric and know he’s all right.”

  He figured there must be more to her plan, but he was going to keep as low a profile here as he could. Let her think this was all about her.

  Still shaking, she lifted her head. “I don’t get it. What’s in this for you?”

  Smart girl. What he said was, “Gideon wanted me to help you, so that’s what I’m doing.”

  “By pretending to be married and renting this place? That must have cost a fortune. I don’t have a fortune.”

  “It won’t cost you a dime.”

  “Good, because I don’t have a dime to spare, either.” Her expression stricken, she whispered, “I don’t get it. Why?”

  “Maybe Gideon thinks you’re innocent.”

  “But you don’t?”

  At an impasse, they locked gazes.

  Logan wasn’t about to make a commitment here. He wouldn’t lie to put her at ease. And he wouldn’t tell her the truth about his own motivation—proving that his sister was murdered and putting the bastard behind bars—not until he was sure he could trust her. If that ever happened.

  But apparently, she didn’t want to confront him further, because she didn’t continue the interrogation. Doing so might ruin things for her. Surely she saw the possibilities in this setup.

  He said, “All you have to do is move your stuff in and we’re set.”

  “What stuff?” she demanded. “I have, like, three outfits including this one I bought at a thrift shop. I’ve been wearing Cass’s dresses to the club. If I move out on her, I won’t even have access to them.”

  “So that’s a problem? That you won’t have a decent wardrobe? Or is something else bothering you?”

  “A lot about this setup is bothering me,” she admitted. “Including the fact that I have no desire to live with you. I don’t even know you.”

  Even as he said, “Don’t worry, you’ll have your choice of five bedrooms upstairs and one down here,” he knew she was caught. “Pick any bedroom you like and it’s yours for the duration.”

  Any plan that she’d been formulating on her own was busted, Logan thought. Carol could make her now.

  If Elise didn’t agree to do this his way, she would never get near her son.

  HER RESENTMENT at being put in an untenable position with Logan growing with each minute that passed, Elise slammed into Gideon’s office without knocking. He looked up in surprise but didn’t say a word, merely leaned back in his chair as she angrily advanced on him.

  Stopping when her legs hit his desk, she said, “I trusted you with my secret.”

  “You had no choice.”

  “Well, you did!” Meaning to stay in control, she swallowed hard and kept her voice low. “And you told Logan Smith. You had no right.”

  “I had every right,” Gideon countered evenly. “Logan is head of my security.”

  “So you had him check me out.”

  “Of course.”

  “And then you decided I was innocent—”

  “That’s a distinct possibility.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “And I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “So you arranged for this charade.”

  Gideon stared at her for a moment, then said, “You’re welcome.”

  “I don’t want to seem ungrateful. It’s just…I used to be naive. Having been in prison, I’m not anymore. That someone is willing to go through this trouble out of the goodness of his heart just doesn’t compute.”

  “Do you mean me? Or Logan?”

  “Both.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I either take the deal, or walk away from my son—which is not an option.”

  “I’m glad you’re being sensible about the situation.”

  “What choice do you leave me?” Elise asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone.

  A pawn, that’s what she was. She’d been a pawn in her husband’s murder and now she was a pawn in whatever game Gideon and Logan were proposing. No one was this altruistic. But she had no choice, so she would play the game, too, only she would look out for herself as well as her son.

  At the first opportunity, they would both be gone.

  No matter what she had to do to make it happen.

  “I’M SO SORRY your plans backfired on you,” Cass said when Elise told her what had happened with Logan.

  Halfway through the night, they were in the break room. Logan had brought her in there, insisting Gideon wanted some photographs of her. Not that he’d explained anything. He’d merely pointed her at a white wall and asked her to stand still with her mouth closed for just a minute….

  Cass hadn’t been at the apartment when Logan dropped her off, but she’d walked in on the impromptu photography session and had stayed until Logan skulked out of the room with his damn camera. So this was Elise’s first opportunity to talk to her friend in private.

  “So you don’t know anything about this plan or what could be in it for him?” she asked.

  “No, I swear. And while I trust Gideon, there’s something about Logan…”

  “What? You’ve seen something?” Elise was referring to that precognitive aptitude she’d heard that Cass had.

  “Not clearly, no. But every time I get near him, I sense a darkness that disturbs me.”

  “He disturbs me, too.”

  “In a different way,” Cass said knowingly. “Just be sure before you get too close.”

  “Close?” Gaping at her friend’s intimation, Elise quickly assured her, “That’s not going to happen.”

  Thinking about the possibility, though, she shifted uncomfortably. She might resent the hell out of him, but she had to admit that Logan Smith got to her. And it wasn’t just that he got her back up or even that he was an attractive man.

  An attractive man who wants something, a little voice reminded her.

  But what? Surely he couldn’t be going through this charade merely to gain a bed partner. He’d been very clear about her having her own bedroom.

  Cass asked, “What can I do to help?”

  Forced from her speculation, Elise sighed. “Tell me how I can magically expand my wardrobe without a credit card.”

  “I can give you a few things.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. That would be great for working here at the club. But I need to present a whole other persona for the North Shore society babes. If I want to be one of them again, I’ll have to look the part.”

  That had been a near-impossible task for her when Brian agreed to accept ownership of the estate and they’d moved from their Chicago town house to the North Shore. Why should now be any easier?

  “Before you worry yourself sick over it, let me see what I can do.”

  Elise hugged Cass. “Thanks, friend.”

  At least she wasn’t alone in this. Cass was her anchor. Her lifeline.

  She just had to be careful that she didn’t drag her friend under if things went wrong.

  ELISE WATCHED LOGAN set her pitiful few things encased in a garment bag and a small suitcase—both borrowed from Cass—in the trunk of his car. Still not knowing how she was going to pull this thing off, she slid into the passenger seat and waited for him to get behind the wheel. He removed his suit jacket, folded it neatly and laid it on the back seat. Then he slid in beside her.

  Snapping on the overhead light, Logan said, “You’ll need this.”

  He was holding out a plain gold band, and Elise noted he wore one now, as well.

  “You think of everything.” Somehow the ring thing had gotten away from her. “I wonder if Carol not
iced we weren’t wearing rings.”

  “I don’t think she was that interested once she learned I was married.” Logan snapped off the light.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  He hadn’t said much to her since leaving the club, and she had questions. Lots of them.

  So, when he finally started up the engine, she asked, “Where are we from?”

  “What?”

  “If someone asks.” She couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought this through. Of course they needed to keep their stories straight if they were going to fool everyone. “You told Carol I had just arrived. From where?”

  “Indiana,” he began. “Evansville. I used to visit an aunt there, so I know the place pretty well. And you can originally be from Louisville, Kentucky.”

  Luckily she’d been to Louisville with Brian. They’d gone to the Kentucky Derby the first year they were married.

  They spent half the drive to North Bluff going over their cover story. Logan would profess to be a businessman who specialized in computer security. Not far from the mark, Elise thought, and it left a lot of room for his comings and goings at night.

  And she would be a wife who, rather than seeking her own career, supported her husband’s. If she ran into a problem explaining her nightly absences, she could always say she was accompanying him. She would also be a woman who gained personal satisfaction through charity work.

  “Unless she’s changed, Diane is big on heading charity functions,” she said, “so I should be able to use that to get close.”

  “How close?”

  “Inside Mitchell House.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “It’s the only reason for my doing this,” she said. “If I don’t get inside, I’ll never get close to Eric. He needs to know me before…”

  Before what?

  That’s where it all ended—joining one of Diane’s pet charities so that she could “meet” her own son. She didn’t know how she was going to get Eric out of the woman’s clutches, had no idea where she would take him.

  All in good time, she told herself. First, she had to get in.