by Cara Summers
“Sure.” She moved quickly to the chair, but before she could pick up her clothes, he handed her his shirt.
“I want to have coffee with Mac, not Dr. Lloyd.”
He wanted to have coffee with Mac. Forgetting to slip into the shirt, she hugged the thought to her all the way to the door.
A SMILE CURVED his mouth as Lucas watched her walk out of the bedroom. He had to clamp down on the urge to follow her. Making love to her during the night had only whetted his appetite. He wanted more, and this time he wanted her wide awake and alert to every sensation when he was inside her. He wanted her to know exactly who it was who was touching her, tasting her, making her come.
He started toward the door. Hell, the coffee could wait. And so could Tracker’s report. Lifting the phone to his ear, he said, “I’m going to have to get back to you.”
“Sophie’s not at the Serenity Spa.”
Lucas stopped dead in his tracks. “You’re sure.”
“I’ve spent the past two hours confirming it. Once I found an impostor in her cabin, I decided the time for disguise was over. I even persuaded the amazon in charge of this place to let me check every single client at their morning yoga exercises.”
As Tracker filled him in, Lucas paced the length of the bedroom and back. Fear flooded through him along with questions. He clamped down on both of them, concentrating on the facts that Tracker was feeding him.
“They switched at the airport in Charlotte?”
“According to the actress Sophie hired to impersonate her, they both went into stalls in the ladies’ room where they donned wigs and changed clothes. Then they exited at different times.”
“And it was shortly after that Sophie called me to let me know where she was, and I told you Mac was with me.”
“Right. The actress in Sophie’s cabin swears she knows nothing about where Sophie was going. I believe her mostly because I don’t think Sophie would have told her. She planned this thing out pretty carefully. She wouldn’t want us to be able to trace her easily. I’ve got men checking the flight manifests out of Charlotte right now. So far, they haven’t come up with anything.”
“Falcone’s got her.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I know it. That’s what the phone call was about. He told me he had something that would make me reconsider. He was talking about Sophie.”
There was a pause before Tracker replied, “He won’t hurt her. He wouldn’t dare.”
The fact that Tracker wasn’t arguing with him sharpened the fear in his stomach. He had to believe Falcone wouldn’t hurt Sophie. Turning, Lucas paced the length of the room again. He had to keep telling himself that. More than that, he had to think, to plan.
As he strode by the dresser, his gaze fell on the stuff Mac had dumped out of her purse. In addition to the cell phone, which matched the same pearl color of his sister’s, a wallet, a small plastic makeup case and loose change littered the top of the dresser.
“My office is checking the flight manifests out of Charlotte. So far they haven’t found any record of a Sophie Wainright flying out.”
“Maybe she used another name,” Lucas said.
“Easier said than done. With the new security, she’d need a pretty accurate picture ID. And I already checked. She flew into Charlotte on a round-trip ticket under her own name.”
“Maybe the actress used that ticket.” Turning suddenly, Lucas walked back to the dresser and stared down at the cell phone. The evidence was right there.
Dr. Lloyd wouldn’t have loose change lying in the bottom of her purse. Nor could he imagine her having a pearl-colored phone. Hers would be black, practical. He pictured Mac as she’d stepped off the plane. She’d taken off the blond wig, but if she’d been wearing it, she would have looked a lot like Sophie.
The sharp, jagged fear that had been slicing through him suddenly turned cold and hard. He knew even before he opened the wallet what he would find.
Sophie’s picture on the driver’s license stared up at him.
“Sophie used Dr. Lloyd’s ID,” Lucas said. He could feel the fury beginning to bubble up, but he clamped down on it tightly.
“Dammit,” Tracker said. “I should have thought of that. The two of them must have switched everything before they left Sophie’s shop.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I should have figured it too.”
With one part of his mind, he listened to Tracker outline what he was going to do. But another part of his mind was sifting through everything that the doc had done in the past twenty hours. Images and sensations swirled through him.
Nothing could have been calculated to keep him more distracted. Hell, he hadn’t been thinking straight since he’d seen her step off that plane.
Had it been all her idea—or was she merely following a scenario that his sister had mapped out? Pain sliced through him, deep and sharp. Suddenly he recalled Mac’s initial reaction when the ringing of the cell phone had wakened him.
It could be So—
She’d expected it to be Sophie.
“Does the doc know where your sister is?” Tracker asked.
“I’m going to find that out right now.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LUCAS FOUND HER on the balcony standing in the same spot where he’d realized that he wanted her in his life.
He shoved the thought out of his mind. But it wasn’t so easy to shove the woman out, or the feelings coursing through him. It hurt to look at her. Pain shimmered inside him, fueled by the fact that he still wanted her. He took a step toward her, and when she turned, for one second he allowed himself to absorb the look on her face.
Then he reminded himself that it was a lie. She was a lie.
“Where’s Sophie?” he asked.
“At the spa. In North Carolina.”
“No, she’s not. She never went there.”
He watched each and every emotion flicker over her face—surprise, confusion and a trace of concern. She was good.
“I don’t understand. She told me she was there.”
He held out the wallet then in the palm of his hand. “You’ve got her wallet, her driver’s license. Does she have yours?”
“Yes. We switched by accident in her shop.”
“By accident? And was it an accident that she hired an actress to impersonate her at the spa?”
She stared a him. “An actress? What are you—”
“Let me spell it out for you, Dr. Lloyd. My sister was very angry with me, so she decided to teach me a little lesson. I’m sure she shared all this with you. She hired someone to take her place at a spa. Then she got you to fly down here in her place and distract me so that she could disappear. You tell me she’s at the spa. She calls me and pretends she’s there. If I call there, they tell me she’s all checked in, and as far as they’re concerned, she is. Still, I might have checked further, but she told me you have a problem you wanted to discuss and asked me to help you out. I’ve got to hand it to the two of you—it was a brilliant plan to distract me.”
Mac lifted a hand, then dropped it. “I know what it looks like, but I—I didn’t know—I—”
He studied her as she spoke, but he couldn’t trust himself to read her. She’d made him lose his objectivity, his control. She’d made him lose everything. “How many times has she gotten in touch with you since you got off my plane?”
“Two…no, three times.”
“And she never once told you where she’d really gone?”
“She told me she was at the spa. She was happy there at first. Last night I thought she sounded a little restless and bored, but she denied it.”
“And you expect me to believe that? You’re not that good a liar, Dr. Lloyd.”
He watched the hurt spring to her eyes and the color drain from her face. There was some satisfaction to be gained from that. It wasn’t enough. “You played me, Doc.” He took a step toward her then and watched her step back into the railing. The need boiled up within him to grab h
er and shake her hard, make her tell him the truth.
But there was fear too—that if he touched her even now, he wouldn’t be able to let her go. Fisting his hands, he shoved them deep into his pockets.
“The two of you must have had a few good laughs at my expense. How long was the charade supposed to go on? And who dreamed up the little research project on sexual fantasies?”
She flinched at each of his questions as if he’d slapped her, and he felt disgust roll through him. Struggling for control, he turned away from her. He had to focus on the fact that all signs pointed against her. Drawing in a deep breath, he said, “Look, I’m begging you to just tell me where she is. I wanted her down here in the Keys with me for a reason. I’ve made an enemy in the last week. She could be in danger.”
“I’d tell you if I knew. She told me she was at the spa.”
He whirled on her then. “Then why did you agree to the switch in identities?”
“I didn’t. We took each other’s purses by accident when we put the wigs on in her shop.”
“And the wigs were for…?”
She raised her hands and dropped them. “The fantasies.”
“Of course. Well, I have to hand it to you. They were very good. Just one question, Doc. Is there anything about you that’s real?”
She didn’t answer. But he heard the sharp catch in her breath, saw the tears, just a flash of them, before she lowered her eyes. They only seemed to increase the hurt that threatened to consume him. Digging deep within himself, he struggled to rebuild the shield that for so many years had protected him. “One last time. If you know where my sister is, tell me.”
She didn’t look up but merely shook her head.
He moved to the glass doors, turning back only when he’d stepped through them. “Congratulations, Doc. You led me right down the garden path.”
Never again. He didn’t say the words aloud, but they drummed in his mind as he walked away.
GRABBING HER CLOTHES out of the closet, Mac stuffed them into her suitcase, hangers and all. She had to get out of the suite, out of the hotel. Once she did, she could stop thinking about Lucas. Then she’d be fine.
In the bathroom, she swept everything on the vanity into her cosmetics bag. A plastic bottle of shampoo hit the floor and bounced. Bending over, she scooped it up, but it slipped out of her hand and bounced off the floor again, this time onto her foot. A kick sent it sailing into the wall, and this time it boomeranged back into her leg.
Taking a deep breath, she made herself stand perfectly still. This wasn’t like her at all. She usually packed meticulously. And she’d never before had a fight with a shampoo bottle.
Turning, she held tightly to the edge of the vanity. She had to get a grip. She made herself look in the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes didn’t surprise her, but the tears stunned her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. Dr. MacKenzie Lloyd never cried. Evidently, Mac did.
Who was she?
Before she’d met Lucas, she thought she’d known the answer. She was a research scientist who had a job she liked and whose work was going well. The only thing that had been lacking in her life had been a family of her own.
She’d taken the first step toward solving that problem just the way she would have approached a problem in the lab. It had seemed so logical, so simple. Maybe Dr. Lloyd’s plan would have worked, if it hadn’t been for Mac.
Sinking onto the toilet seat, she buried her face in her hands. She just needed to get back to D.C. She still had her work. She could go to her lab and bury herself in it. With time she would forget Lucas Wainright. And the way he’d looked at her before he’d left the suite.
He had every right to be furious with her. She’d deceived him. And she could never forgive herself if she’d put Sophie in any kind of danger. It might have been Sophie’s suggestion that she fly down to the Keys in a disguise, but she’d gone along with it easily enough. She could see now that it was Mac who’d gone along with it because she’d wanted to try out her research on Lucas. Had she loved him even then?
No, she wouldn’t let herself think about it. Turning, she walked into the bedroom. She was going to pack and get out of this room that smelled like him.
The chimes rang just as she was jamming her cosmetics bag into the suitcase. One thought filled her mind as she raced to the door. Lucas.
But it was the manager who’d gotten the chair for her in the lobby, and he was shaking his head at her. “Mrs. Wainright, you really shouldn’t open your door without ascertaining who’s there.”
“I thought it might be Mr. Wainright.”
He smiled at her. “That’s why I’m here. Mr. Wainright spoke with me before he left. He told me to tell you that the staff has instructions to make your stay, for however long you wish to remain, as pleasant as possible.”
Mac blinked back the sting of new tears. Lucas was furious with her, and yet he’d taken the time to make sure the hotel would take care of her.
“Is there anything I can do for you right now?”
“Yes,” Mac said. “I’d like you to make a plane reservation for me back to D.C.”
“Oh. Well, of course. Although we’d much prefer that you stay, I’d be happy to take care of that. If you’ll just give me your first initial, Mrs. Wainright? They’ll want to know for the reservation.”
For just a moment, Mac hesitated. Then she said, “S. For Sophie.” If she had to fly in a commercial plane, she would have to present a picture ID to get on the flight. She’d just have to use Sophie’s, and she’d have to wear the blond wig so she’d look like Sophie’s picture.
“I’ll see to it right away.”
She was closing the door to the suite when it struck her. Had Sophie used her ID in the same way?
Leaning back against the door, she forced herself to think. It had been fun buying the wigs and then putting them on in the back room of Sophie’s shop. But what if it had been more than just a lark for Sophie? Was it possible that she had switched the purses on purpose?
Thinking back, Mac tried to recall Sophie’s exact words in the tree house. The next time I find a man I like, I’m going to make sure he doesn’t know I’m Sophie Wainright.
It had been Sophie’s idea to buy the wigs and the matching purses and raincoats. She’d blamed it on the fact that Lucas was having her followed, and that she desperately needed a break. What if her plan all along had been to go somewhere and actually pretend to be someone else? Like MacKenzie Lloyd.
Mac strode down the hall to get her bag. The sooner she got to D.C., the sooner she would be able to figure out where Sophie had gone.
“REPORT.” Vincent Falcone gestured his son into a chair on the other side of his desk. In his hand, he held a glass of Falcone Vineyards 1998 Cabernet Franc. Currently it was his favorite vintage, and it would only improve with age. Beyond the glass that walled his office on two sides, grapevines marched in neat little rows until they began to climb the hills in the distance.
“A crew will be here shortly after three on Saturday to inflate the hot-air balloons. They can take any of our guests up until sunset.”
Vincent lifted his glass of wine and watched the play of light in its depths. Sonny had purchased four hot-air balloons just last week. Offering free rides would draw crowds to the vineyards and sell more wine, Sonny had said in defense of his expenditure.
“And about the other business?” Vincent asked.
“Everything’s going as planned.”
“You have a signed contract?”
Sonny shifted in his chair. “I will by Saturday.”
“You said you’d have it last week.”
“I know, but there’s been a little delay.”
“In business, delays can be fatal.”
“I have a man on the inside who assures me that I will have the contract by Saturday.”
Vincent said nothing.
Sonny shifted again in his chair. “I am perfectly capable of running Lansing Biotech.
I know you don’t trust me. But I’ve got everything under control.”
His son was lying. Worse than that, he was a fool. Vincent took a sip of his wine and let the flavors linger on his tongue. There were fools in every family, almost as if the stronger genes that ran in a bloodline had to take a break before they could appear again.
In the Wainright family, the weak genes had made their appearance in Lucas’s father. It was too bad that Lucas hadn’t inherited more of those weaknesses and fewer of his grandfather’s strengths.
But in the end, it wouldn’t make any difference. Vincent was not going to allow his business connection with Wainright Enterprises to be severed. That was why he’d arranged for Lucas’s sister and Sonny to meet in Georgetown.
And that was why he’d held his tongue about the balloons when he’d learned that they were part of Sonny’s campaign to impress Sophie Wainright. Vincent could picture her now, riding in one of them with Sonny just as Lucas arrived at the party. A picture was often worth a thousand words.
“Why don’t you bring Sophie here for dinner tonight?” he said as he lifted his glass to his lips and took another sip.
“She’s busy. She has to make a presentation tomorrow.”
“A presentation? I thought she flew out here specifically to see you.”
Sonny frowned. “She did. But…she hasn’t yet admitted to me that she’s really Sophie Wainright. She’s still pretending to be this Susan Walker person. I thought of telling her today that I’m aware of the masquerade.”
Vincent shook his head. “Best to wait until she tells you.” And the fact that she hadn’t told him wasn’t a good sign. Sonny had always had a way with women, so bringing the two of them together had been worth a shot.
Setting his glass down on his desk, he said, “You’d better go work on that contract.”
He waited for his son to leave the office before he sighed.
It was a damn good thing he had a backup plan to handle Lucas Wainright.
