by Helen Conrad
He was smiling, heading for someone he knew at another table. Glancing over, Tanner noted without much surprise that it was the woman who had been preparing so carefully who was receiving the full force of his uncle’s smile.
He’d characterized her plans as seduction, hadn’t he? She’d demurred, calling it an audition instead. He frowned. An audition for what? Prime turkey of the month, ready for plucking? As he watched, Uncle John kissed the woman’s hand before sinking into the seat beside her.
“My God,” Tanner whispered to himself, staring. Could this possibly be the widow from Nebraska? His grin held only a hint of regret. “Why, that little devil.”
Shelley had been on the money, it seemed. Uncle John was in danger of being fleeced again. It was a good thing he’d come down to see for himself what was going on. His uncle had had no idea when Tanner was to arrive, though he had talked to him by phone the day before and obtained a general sort of invitation.
But now Tanner was here, and he could see for himself how the land lay. And he could certainly see what the attraction was. He’d come under her pretty spell himself.
He sighed and took a long sip of his drink. He should probably go over right away and stop the whole thing before the little gold digger got rolling, but he needed some food first, some fortification for the coming struggle.
For there would be a struggle. Uncle John always fell hard and never believed anyone could have ulterior motives, no matter how often it happened. It was going to take effort to convince him. Tanner might as well relax for now and watch the pretty little lady’s technique. It might just be an education.
CHAPTER TWO:
The Tables Get Turned
Kat looked up with a smile and held her hand out to the older, distinguished-looking gentleman as he approached the table. It was obvious he had been quite a heartbreaker in his younger days. His face was still handsome, his manner exuding a quiet, masculine confidence, his dark eyes alive with interest and a lazy sort of intelligence. Kat would have liked him just fine under any other circumstances, and she knew it.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Colonel Carrington.”
He bent over her hand with continental elegance, barely brushing her fingers with his mustache before snapping to attention and smiling at her.
“My dear, I’m honored.”
She waited while he seated himself and ordered drinks— a Scotch on the rocks for himself, “Just iced tea, please,” for her. She couldn’t trust herself to order anything with the slightest trace of alcohol. She needed all her faculties for this effort.
He was awfully good-looking, with his silver hair and snapping black eyes. He wore clothes as though he were modeling for a men’s magazine, but there was a sense of strength behind him that made one think he would look just as good in work clothes, with a pick on his shoulder. On the face of it, she had to admit, he was terribly attractive. Her mother probably thought she was living out one of those movies from the fifties. Who could blame her?
It was up to Kat to protect her. Though she was younger than her mother by more than twenty years, she was, in some ways, far more experienced. Kat knew a lot more about heartbreak than her mother could ever imagine. Kat knew about lies and betrayal and people with hidden agendas.
In her mother’s mind, everyone was good until proven otherwise. Kat had reason to be a bit more cynical.
She and the colonel chatted inconsequentially as she tried to summon up the courage to follow her plan—with a little of Ted’s thrown in. Just a few smiles, she thought, a little soft laughing, and that was as far as she was prepared to go along that road. She should be able to tell right away if he was open to flirting.
Gathering her courage for the attempt, she was in mid-sentence when her gaze suddenly focused through the plants on someone who was watching her. It was the man with the incredible blue eyes. He was smiling and lifting a glass of wine in a mock salute. She stared for a second, then looked away quickly.
Never mind Mr. Blue Eyes. She had things to do.
Turning, she smiled at the colonel, giving it her all, even batting the eyelashes a little, and then she had to choke back her own laughter and try to hide it in a quick drink of water.
This was ridiculous. She couldn’t do it. There was no way she could follow through on Ted’s advice.
“Tempt him,” Ted had said. “Throw out some bait. Make him think you’re rich, too. See if he goes for it. Then you’ll know he’s a crook and be done with it.”
She took a deep breath and tried to start a charm offensive. But she took one look at the man and she knew she couldn’t swing it. That sort of artifice just wasn’t in her makeup. She sighed. It looked like she was going to have to fall back on good old-fashioned honesty.
“Colonel Carrington,” she began with all the sincerity she could muster, “my mother likes you a lot.”
He smiled. “I think you know how I feel about her,” he returned.
Did she? Hardly. And that was just the point. If he loved her, if she made his heart beat like a drum, if she made his palms sweat and made his sensual responses quiver—well, then Kat had no business being here. But how was she going to know for sure?
Kat licked her dry lips and took another deep breath. “Actually, I’m not so sure that I do,” she told him candidly. “And that’s what worries me.”
He nodded, not at all surprised. He looked completely at ease with the subject, as though nothing could daunt his graceful charm.
“You don’t trust me. I understand that. It’s only natural.”
She waited a moment, but he didn’t offer any more reassurance than that. “Come on, Colonel!” she pleaded silently. “Give me something to work with here.”
“My mother is very trusting,” she said aloud. “She sees only the good in everyone around her, and she…well she thinks you’re wonderful.”
“Of course.” His shrug was casual and expansive at the same time. “That’s the way love is.” He looked at her quizzically. “Haven’t you ever been in love, Kat?”
Despite everything, the question took her by surprise.
“Love?” She felt the blood draining from her cheeks and she blinked quickly, staving off the reaction. “Yes, I’ve been in love. I... I know how it is.”
“Kat, I’m sorry.” Quickly his hand reached out and covered hers, “I’ve brought up bad memories, haven’t I? Your mother said you’d been married. To a Collingham, wasn’t it? The car people?”
“Yes. Jeffrey Collingham.” She took a long sip of water and steadied herself. What was the matter with her, anyway? Thinking of Jeffrey didn’t usually bring on this rush of emotion any longer. She must be over tired from the trip. There was no other explanation.
She tried to go on. “I, uh, but that’s not why...”
His hand tightened sympathetically around hers. “Did he make you very unhappy?’’
She looked up in surprise, not used to this kind of sympathy. “Oh, no. That is, not when we were together.”
That was perfectly true. Her marriage had been rather happy as long as it had lasted. It just hadn’t lasted very long. And then, once she’d realized what a jerk she’d married, it had fallen apart very rapidly. Within minutes of finding Jeffrey in bed with her best friend, it pretty much lay in shards all around her.
“It was only later, after he was g-g-gone...”
Suddenly she was having trouble breathing. She just hadn’t been ready for the subject to come up. That had to be it.
“Gone?” He shook his head, empathy oozing from every pore. “Oh, my dear, I hadn’t realized that. Died, did he? And you such a young bride. What a shame.”
As far as she knew, Jeffrey was alive and well and chasing coeds on sailboats right now, but before she had a chance to set the colonel straight, she realized the waiter was standing in front of their table, placing an exotic drink at her left hand.
“From the gentleman at the window table,” the waiter explained, gesturing toward where Mr. Blu
e Eyes sat. “He said to tell you, ‘Buena suerte, after all, because it looks as though you’re going to need it.’”
She stared down at the frothy drink with its tiny paper umbrella and pineapple chunks and red maraschino cherries, trying to get her balance back. First memories of how Jeffrey had betrayed her, now this.
She raised her head and looked out through the plants. Mr. Blue Eyes nodded to her, grinning, and she glared back.
“Thank you,” she mouthed, but she was tight-lipped about it. She was beginning to wonder if this man was ever going to get on with his lunch and leave her in peace.
She looked at the colonel quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed this byplay. Luckily, he was busily engaged in tucking his napkin into the belt of his slacks and didn’t seem to have noticed a thing.
When he did look up, he admired her drink and ordered one for himself.
The food came and they talked. The colonel was charming. He told a marvelous story or two. He mentioned her mother every third sentence. He ate with impeccable manners. He listened to her every word with gallant attention.
Kat felt she was getting nowhere. She was drowning and there were no life rafts. She couldn’t find a flaw in the man. He touched all the bases, said the right things.
She wished she could take that as proof he was an okay guy, but, cynic that she was, she just couldn’t be sure. He was a lovely man, but then, weren’t most fortune hunters? It came with the job.
After all, you had to admit one thing. Her father had died twelve years ago, and in all that time, no man had come around courting her cute little mother. Then she won the lottery. Suddenly the front parlor was filled with visitors, most of them recently widowed men in the neighborhood.
Coincidence? She thought not.
And now here was this gentleman of uncertain background giving her mother the ride of her life. Kat would be derelict in her duties as a daughter to leave this fairy tale romance unchallenged.
“Tell me, Colonel,” she said brightly as they were finishing up their meal. “What is it exactly that you do?”
“Do?” He raised a silver eyebrow.
“For a living, I mean.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “That is not an easy question to answer. You young people want to group everybody in slots according to professions. My life hasn’t been the sort that could be quantified in quite that way.”
“Oh?” She began to play with the silverware. If she were really a true journalist, she should now be able to go in for the kill. What was holding her back?
She forced a firm tone. “Well, just what sort of terms would you use to evaluate it?”
His head tilted back and his eyes took on a dreamy quality. “You want professional credentials and twenty-year pins from some major corporation, don’t you, my dear? I’m afraid my life hasn’t been lived along such easily identifiable guidelines.”
“Yes?”
“How can I begin to explain a youth spent wandering about the continent, soaking up philosophy and art and language? How much credit does one get for building a yacht by hand and sailing it around the world? Where is the reward for single-handedly stopping a war between neighboring tribes in New Guinea, or finding the lost religious artifacts of a Malaysian village and returning them to their rightful owners?”
He shrugged grandly and smiled at her.
“I never stayed in any one place long enough to get medals for time in service,” he told her blithely. “I’m afraid I have no evidence of bona fides to spread out before you.’’
Kat swallowed hard and managed a fleeting smile. What in the world was she supposed to make of this? He was making himself sound like a playboy and a dilettante—exactly what she had hoped he wasn’t.
He was certainly painting himself as a romantic figure though, and that was all very well as far as it went. But what could he possibly have in common with her sensible little Midwestern mother?
And,.. had the man ever picked up a paycheck in his life? If so, he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing about it, was he?
He left the table for a moment, excusing himself to make an extremely important call to his broker. Kat frowned, wondering if he was building even more of a facade for her benefit, or if this was for real. It was so hard to know.
The colonel had barely left the room when the waiter appeared again, this time with an enormous corsage of purple orchids that he proceeded to pin to Kat’s persimmon silk blouse, where it clashed horrendously.
“Wait a minute,” she cried, trying to back away from the monstrous thing, “What is this?”
“From the gentleman at the window table,” the waiter said calmly, fixing the corsage with a deft hand before she could stop him. “He says to tell you, ‘Happy hunting.’”
This was too much. She knew she had better take care of the situation before it got any worse. Rising from her seat, she began her march toward Mr. Blue Eyes’s table with angry determination, in full dudgeon.
But he was watching as she strode toward him, his handsome face full of interest, studying every inch of her as she came, and by the time she got there, her anger had ebbed.
He was so darn good-looking! There was really no reason to yell at the man.
She reached his table and slid gracefully into the booth beside him, leaning forward so that she could talk softly.
“Look, it’s very nice of you to send these things over, but honestly, don’t send any more. I’m trying to do something important here and I’m afraid you’re getting in the way. Just a bit.”
He cocked an eyebrow and looked surprised, all innocence. “I’m sorry. I certainly didn’t mean to hinder you in your enterprise.” His hooded gaze skimmed her lower lip, then her cheek, in a way that made her sit back a little. Then he smiled, his gaze intimate and provocative.
“But isn’t he a little old for you?” he asked her softly. “I’ve got a real strong feeling that I’d be more your type.”
He was coming on to her!
He hadn’t laid a hand on her, but he might as well have. His look, his voice, were pure seduction. Before she could stop herself, little shivers of delight began to cascade through her veins. Another place, another time, and she would definitely have been interested. And he knew it, the sly dog.
She was blushing. She could feel the heat spreading over her cheeks. Another moment of this and she’d be giggling. She drew back quickly, as though he had touched her.
“It’s... It’s not like that,” she said quickly. “I’ve got to get back.” But she didn’t move. There was something about his blue eyes that was almost mesmerizing.
“Just what is it that you’re trying to get from this gentleman?” he asked casually, as though the answer hardly mattered at all.
She was still fighting back the sensual response to his interest and she had to grit her teeth for a moment before she could answer.
“Information.” She glanced back to where the colonel had just been sitting. “And believe me, he’s a tough cookie.”
“Yes.” He nodded wisely. “I can see that.” Why did she have the distinct impression that he was still laughing at her? “Well, onward and upward. Tallyho. Good luck and all that.”
She rose, looking back, just a bit puzzled.
“Thanks,” she said, and hesitated. But what was there left to say? All the way back to her table, the huge corsage bouncing over her breast, she could feel the man’s gaze on her. She was bright red by the time she sat down, and she prayed the plants would hide her rosy cheeks.
The colonel returned and he smiled at her pleasantly. “What a nice corsage,” he murmured, “Are they giving them out to all the ladies?”
Kat muttered something about not being sure, and he nodded and went on. “Dessert, my dear?” he asked her.
She looked at the man and realized what a failure she was at the intrigue business. She’d set this lunch up to get him to reveal something that would let her know one way or the other whether she could trust him, and he had
n’t given her an inkling.
All he wanted to talk about was her mother and how he was going to take her sailing in the afternoon if her headache was better. Could the man really be as nice as he seemed?
That would go against her first impression, and against the rumors she’d heard from a maid who had worked here for years and was full of stories of Colonel Carrington and his many conquests. And after the way her mother had been besieged in the past few weeks by everyone from Nebraska to Tomboctou who had a need they thought that lottery money could fill, she couldn’t be too careful.
Still, he seemed like nothing more than a nice, older man who had a definite gleam in his eye for her mother. How could she deny her mother the joy of that, merely for a suspicion with no real foundation? Her mother deserved a little happiness, a little excitement—even a romance or two—didn’t she?
The waiter was back. In his hand he held a bottle of Kahlua and two glasses.
“The gentleman at the window table asks that the two of you share this toast with him,” the waiter said, placing the bottle and the two tiny glasses on their table. Then, standing in a classic toasting pose, he recited, “ ‘May there be fortunes enough for everyone someday.’ “
He smiled and bowed as he left.
Kat closed her eyes in exasperation, then took a deep breath. This was really getting to be too much.
Colonel Carrington was turning his head this way and that, craning his neck. “Just who is this gentleman?” he was asking.
“Uh... no one.” She sighed, knowing she would have to go over and really give it to old Blue Eyes this time. She started to scoot her way around the seat of the booth. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just—“
A hand on her shoulder stopped the words in her mouth. Gasping, she looked up and found the blue-eyed man standing over her, his smile wide and knowing.
“Go on with what you’re eating, there,” he said cheerfully. “I just wanted to drop by on my way out and see how things were going.’’
