Mistaken for a Mistress

by Kristi Gold

  When the world came back into focus as his breathing steadied and his body calmed, Ford felt the need to say something to Kerry, express his gratitude with words that wouldn’t quite form. But what he was beginning to feel for her had only partially to do with appreciation of all that she had done in terms of lovemaking. She’d also disregarded his deception and given him a reason to hope for Grant’s release. She’d decided to help him when most women would’ve probably sent him packing without a second glance. She’d inspired him more than any woman in his past.

  Lifting her head, she smiled the sweetest smile and gave him the softest of kisses. “How do you feel now?”

  He couldn’t begin to tell her without sounding like a fool. “Like I could sprint all the way back into the city.” Like he could fall for her completely.

  She laughed quietly, a sound he could hear every day for the rest of his life and never tire of it. “I think it’s probably best we drive so you don’t wear yourself out, because there’s plenty more distraction where that came from.”

  “You have my permission to distract me all night.” And most likely she would distract him long after they parted ways.

  Eight

  K erry had never before experienced going to sleep curled into a masculine body. She’d never known the pleasure of being awakened by a man’s callused hands streaming up her body, or the joy of making love in the first light of dawn.

  She’d also learned the benefits of showering with a gorgeous guy who had no qualms about engaging in some very devilish water play. Right now she sat on a vanity stool wearing the hotel robe while watching that same gorgeous guy rub a towel along his beautiful body—over his broad chest, across the flat plane of his belly and down his very masculine legs. He grinned as he worked his way back up his groin, totally uninhibited by the fact that she followed his movements.

  After coming to her feet, she took the towel from him, wrapped it around his narrow hips and tucked it in below his navel. Holding her face in his palms, he kissed her lightly, then deeply until she considered yanking the towel away and stripping out of her robe.

  Instead, she chose to end this little vacation from reality, knowing they still had a lot to do today that unfortunately didn’t include making love for the remaining hours. Stepping back, she pointed behind her at the door. “I’m going to make some coffee and get the paper. Want me to bring you a cup?”

  He caught her hand and pulled her back against him. “I want you naked again. I just plain want you.”

  She patted his bare chest, battling the urge to slide her hand down to find out exactly how much he wanted her. “You need to call Grant’s attorney and Anna and arrange a time for them to meet us at the police station.”

  He released a rough sigh without releasing her. “Yeah, you’re right. But I’m not holding out much hope Grant’s alibi is going to hold any real weight.”

  “We don’t have any choice. We have to try.”

  He studied her with a somber expression. “I know. But I’m worried we’ll make matters worse, especially if they believe Grant is the one who blackmailed Spencer and Anna is somehow involved.”

  Kerry recognized Ford had a point. “I just have to believe that with all the investigative techniques at the police department’s disposal, they’re going to prove that theory wrong.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re going to have to believe enough for both of us.”

  “Don’t give up, Ford. Somehow, someway, we will get your uncle out of jail.”

  Turning her around, he patted her bottom. “I need some coffee, woman.”

  She shot a stern glance over her shoulder as she headed toward the door. “Woman? Aren’t we a regular little macho man this morning.”

  “Little?”

  Kerry turned, hand braced on the door, to find Ford had removed the towel. Her gaze tracked downward to discover he was impressively aroused. “Okay. Big macho man.”

  He favored her with a dimpled grin. “That’s better. Are you sure you don’t want to come over here and sit on my lap for a while?”

  “You are too much, Ford Ashton.”

  “And I can’t get enough of you, Kerry Roarke.”

  Before she discarded good sense, Kerry walked out the door, chafing her terry-covered arms with her palms in reaction to the succession of heady chills. But beneath the bottom of the robe, she was extremely hot.

  After setting the coffeemaker in action, she strode across the room, opened the door and bent to get the paper. The headline calling out from the page froze her solid:

  Prosecution’s Star Witness in Ashton Murder a Street Kid.

  Straightening, she backed into the room and read the article with curiosity and major questions. She cataloged the facts—a homeless teenage street artist sketching passersby, identified only as Eddie, had seen Grant enter Ashton-Lattimer. At nine o’clock at night?

  “Something interesting in there?”

  Kerry faced Ford and held up the paper in both hands like a sign. “Yes, this.”

  Ford streaked a hand through his damp hair before taking the paper from her. He read silently for a time before turning his attention back to her. “They’re hanging their case on a kid?”

  “Obviously so, and I found several things odd about it. First, it says he was drawing when he saw Grant enter the building. It would have been dark by then. Second, street artists draw for money, so it doesn’t make much sense for this kid to be down in the financial district when he could have been at the Wharf or The Haight hitting tourists up for a few bucks.”

  “Those are all good questions.”

  “Yes, and I intend to get some answers.”

  Ford rolled the paper in his fists. “How do you plan to do that?”

  Kerry tightened the robe’s sash and lifted her chin. “Easy. I’m going to find this Eddie and ask him. I know people who will know how to find him, and we will find him even if it takes all week.”

  “Even if we do find him, and that’s a big ‘if,’ what makes you think he’ll talk to you?”

  “Because it takes a one-time street kid to know one. I have a few theories on what might have happened.”

  “Care to share them with me?”

  “I will on the drive. First, you and I need to get dressed.”

  He approached her slowly and palmed her cheek. “You’ve been a godsend, Kerry. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these past few days. Thank you for everything.”

  She didn’t know what she would do after he was gone from her life. Survive, the way she always had. But it wasn’t going to be easy. Not in the least.

  Laying her hand on his palm, she smiled to conceal her sudden sadness. “Don’t thank me yet. This could be a dead end.” Exactly like their relationship.

  “It’s a possibility,” he said. “And for some reason, I have this gut feeling something good will come out of this with you in charge.”

  Kerry hoped it would, even the good they’d found together would be over soon if they were successful.

  Ford has postponed calling Anna for the time being, at least until they could talk to the kid named Eddie. That proved to be a serious challenge. They’d been to The Haight, to Fisherman’s Wharf then to a couple of shelters, with no luck. Kerry refused to give up and by the time late afternoon had set in, they found themselves back at the Wharf.

  Now Ford stood outside a small restaurant, waiting for Kerry to return from speaking with the owner. He leaned back against the red brick wall, arms folded across his chest, and prayed this time she might be successful.

  “Eureka!”

  Ford pushed off the wall to face Kerry who was coming toward him, a vibrant smile on her face. “You found him?”

  She slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. “Her. We’ve been looking for a boy and she’s a girl. I talked to J.D., the owner of the restaurant, and he says she left just a while ago after he gave her something to eat. He also said she’s been skirting the press and the police
, so she’s been trying to lay low, but he thinks she probably headed over to where several homeless kids hang out. I imagine she’s been hiding out there, with some help.”

  “Then she probably won’t talk to us.”

  “She might talk to me, that’s why I need to do this alone.”

  “But—”

  “It’s better this way, Ford. I know what her life is all about because I’ve lived it, and she could very well be wary of men. You’re going to have to trust me on this.”

  Ford did trust her. He also realized how much he cared about her. So much it made him hurt. “Just promise me you’re going to be careful.”

  She rose up on her toes and kissed him. “I will. First, I’m going to drop you off at the hotel and you can wait for me there.”

  “How are you going to find her? They didn’t publish any kind of picture.”

  “J.D. described her to me. And I know where to look.”

  Ford took a moment to simply hold Kerry against him, probably tighter than he should. In adulthood, he’d learned to rely on himself and he’d liked it that way. Now he’d learned to rely on her for many things, and he’d discovered that hadn’t been bad at all. In fact, it had been good. Damn good. Now he hoped she would come through for him once again.

  Money definitely talked. Thanks to a kid who needed some quick cash, Kerry managed to locate the place where Eddie often hung out. A place all too familiar to a woman who had been there before.

  Kerry spotted her sitting on a side-street curb, a sketch pad propped up against her black corduroy-covered knees, her long brown hair pulled back and secured at her nape, a dirty white baseball cap pulled low on her brow. The black T-shirt etched with Life Sucks was partially hidden by a frayed blue flannel shirt. Exactly how J.D. had described her.

  Kerry moved cautiously toward the teen, calculating each step, planning each question. Stopping at a nearby light pole, she leaned a shoulder against it, her hands tucked away in the pockets of her navy blazer covering her jeans. She pretended to be hanging out, the misty evening fog beginning to set in as well as a definite chill.

  Eddie seemed oblivious to her presence, her brows drawn down in concentration as she swept charcoal over the blank page, creating a picture of a field of flowers surrounding a child, the sun high in the imaginary sky.

  “Wow, you’re good,” Kerry said.

  Only then did the teen look up. “What?”

  Kerry gestured toward the canvas. “The picture. You’re very talented.”

  She flipped the page over to a blank one. “For ten bucks, I’ll draw you.”

  “Okay.” After dropping down on the curb beside her, Kerry retrieved a ten-dollar bill from her pocket and handed it to Eddie.

  After shoving the money in her sneaker, Eddie asked, “You want a real picture or a caricature?”

  “A caricature might be fun. Can you draw me sitting in a red Mustang convertible?”

  “Yeah, I can do that. My mom owned a Mustang once.” She opened a box containing assorted colored chalk and started to work.

  “How long have you been living on the streets?” Kerry asked as she watched Eddie outline the car in accurate detail.

  She continued to draw without looking up. “Who said I live on the streets?”

  “Not too hard to figure out, considering where you are. I used to hang out here, too.”

  She gave Kerry a quick once-over. “You don’t look like it.”

  Kerry folded the hem of her jacket when the memories assaulted her. “It was a while ago. How long have you been here?”

  “About eight months.”

  “I lived on the streets for a year. I was sixteen. How old are you?”

  “Fifteen.” Eddie sent her a hopeful look. “But you got out.”

  “Yes. A woman helped me one night after I ended up in the hospital after an attack. I was lucky.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Better than home, that’s for sure.”

  “I thought the same thing at the time. My stepfather kicked me out. At first I enjoyed the freedom, but it came with a price.” Namely, the last vestiges of naïveté.

  Eddie’s strokes were so angry, Kerry thought she might break the red chalk in half. “My mom’s boyfriend started messing with me. She just pretended not to see, so I took off.”

  Kerry’s heart broke for her. “Where are you from, Eddie?”

  Her hand froze and her gaze zipped from the page to Kerry. “How do you know my name?”

  Kerry determined the time was right to tell her the truth, and take her chances. “Because I saw it in the newspaper. I’ve been looking for you all day.”

  Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Are you a cop or a reporter?”

  “No, but I am a friend of the man you picked out in the lineup. I also know there’s no way you could have seen him, because he wasn’t there.”

  She lowered her gaze, but not before Kerry glimpsed her guilt. “I saw him.”

  “You couldn’t have. He wasn’t even in the city.”

  Eddie slapped the top back on the box and closed the sketch pad. “I’ve got to go now.”

  Kerry touched her arm to detain her. “Eddie, if someone threatened you and told you that you had to identify Grant Ashton, then you have to tell the truth.”

  She swiped a shaky hand over her cheek, leaving a streak of red in its wake. “Telling the truth gets you nowhere.”

  “It will in this case. Don’t throw away your honor, Eddie. Even if that’s all you have, it will see you through during the tough times.”

  Eddie raised her gaze, her eyes looking frightened and fatigued. “If you’re right, and I’m not saying you are, what would they do to me if I change my story?”

  Kerry’s spirits elevated, knowing she was close to discovering the facts. “I don’t know. You might have to spend some time in a juvenile facility.”

  “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad if I had some food and a bed. As long as they don’t try to send me back home.”

  Some home, Kerry thought. “I’m sure they’ll be lenient if you try to make it right before it’s too late. Before they put the wrong man in jail. Especially if someone said they’d hurt you if you didn’t lie.”

  Eddie wrapped her arms around her bent knees. “He didn’t say he would hurt me. But he did give me money.”

  “He?”

  “Some creepy guy. He came up to me when I was down at the Wharf and told me I could make a hundred bucks if I did what he said. At first I thought he wanted me to…you know.”

  How well Kerry knew. “Did he tell you his name?”

  “No. He showed me a picture of that Grant and told me to go to the police and tell them I saw him going into the building around nine. They wanted to keep me there at the police station after I picked him out of the lineup, but I snuck out because I was afraid they’d call my mom. I’ve been hiding out ever since, but I figure they’re going to find me soon.”

  “That’s why you should go to them first and tell the real story. I’ll be right there with you. Can you remember what this guy looked like?”

  Eddie presented a sudden smile, easing some of the worry from her face and showcasing her youth. “I can go one better. I can draw him.”

  Ford stopped midpace when he heard the key slide into the lock and the door open, his heart jamming his throat. He turned to see Kerry enter the room, a bright smile on her face and optimism reflecting from her violet eyes.

  Before he could reach her, she rushed him and hugged him hard. Ford pulled away first, only because he had to know what happened. “God, I was starting to worry about you when I couldn’t find you.”

  Kerry’s expression showed her confusion, understandably so. “Couldn’t find me?”

  “I followed behind the trolley until I saw you get off. I couldn’t find a place to park and I lost sight of you, so I gave up and came back here.”

  “You were following me?”

  “Yeah. I was worried sick the whole time. If something happe
ned to you, I would never forgive myself. I was imagining all sorts of things.”

  She sent him a slight smile. “I promise, I’m okay. And you can’t even imagine what happened, but it’s all good. I found our star witness.”

  “Did you talk to her?”

  “Yes, I did. She’s waiting downstairs in the restaurant, consuming a cheeseburger. I have the waiter looking after her, in case she tries to slip out.”

  “What did she say?”

  “You won’t even believe it.”

  “Try me.”

  Kerry stepped out of his arms and withdrew a rolled-up piece of paper from her jacket pocket. “Do you know who this is?”

  Ford studied the black-and-white sketch of a guy with thinning dark hair and beady eyes. “I’ve never seen him before.” He handed the picture back. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know, and neither does Eddie. But it seems he paid her to say she saw Grant going into the building the night Spencer was murdered. She sketched this picture of him.”

  “Then this means—”

  “We should have enough evidence to clear your uncle.”

  Ford could only stare at Kerry for a long moment, speechless and in awe that she had somehow managed to help put all the pertinent pieces together. Had it not been for her, he doubted he would have been able to achieve this success. In fact he knew he could never have done this without Kerry Roarke—a woman who was as selfless as she was beautiful.

  When he failed to speak, she frowned. “Why do you look so serious? This is great news. You should be shouting from the hotel rooftop.”

  Ford said the only thing he could think to say. “You are amazing.” Amazing in more ways than he could begin to express.