FALSE PRETENSES

by Catherine Coulter

  Jonathan pulled in in front of the small grocery store. It was called Jake’s. There were a half-dozen teenagers with motorcycles in front, lolling around. “There’s nothing much for them to do, so they cruise Jake’s. It drives the old man crazy. Lord, it’s cold.”

  Jake was a picture. Old, grizzled, perfectly bald, with a thick, full white beard. He was cursing the kids outside, energetic as could be at midnight. “Mr. Harley, been a while.”

  “Yes, it has,” Jonathan said. “We’re here to stock up, Jake.”

  “First time you brung your missus.”

  Jonathan smiled down at Elizabeth. “Yes, the first time, but not the last.”

  It was one o’clock in the morning when they pulled off the dirt road in front of a two-story pine cabin.

  “It’ll smell musty, but kind of nice too. Cozy. Even in the summer, it’s chilly enough here by the ocean to have a fire. Can you smell the salt?”

  “Oh, yes,” Elizabeth said, inhaling deeply. And the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks just yards from the cabin. She was so tired she wanted to drop, but they had to stow the groceries and air the cabin out. She saw the old screen doors, the wide screened-in porch, the rough-hewn pine paneling, the huge stone fireplace in the living room.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “Let’s go to bed now. I’m about ready to pass out.”

  Elizabeth paused.

  “You can sleep in the guestroom, Elizabeth,” he said patiently. “I’d volunteer to take it, but the bed’s too short for me. Come along, we’ll have to make up both the short bed and the long one.”

  Elizabeth awoke to the smell of the salt air and the sound of the crashing waves. Sunlight filled her bedroom, and she wondered for a moment where she was. Then she remembered, and smiled. In Maine. Christmas Cove. With Jonathan.

  It was at least a minute before she remembered, and the familiar fear flowed through her. She sat up in bed and looked around her room. But she didn’t really see it. She was seeing the car exploding in flames, knowing that Drake was in it, realizing her helplessness. And she saw Christian Hunter, his eyes filled with concern, standing over her hospital bed. She remembered Christian telling Lieutenant Draper that he’d been cruising in the area. To see his handiwork.

  “Good morning.”

  She raised her head to see Jonathan standing in the doorway. He was wearing old, very faded jeans, a white cotton sweater, and disreputable sneakers.

  “How do you feel?”

  When she didn’t answer him immediately, he walked to her bed and sat down. “Come here,” he said, and pulled her against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her back and pressed her face against his shoulder. “It will be all right, Lizzie. You’ll see.” He kissed her rumpled hair.

  “You smell good,” she said, rubbing her nose against his shoulder.

  “Thanks. Just wait until you fight with the shower to give you something besides rusty water.”

  “I’ve always been ‘Elizabeth,’ even as a child. My father insisted. It has more dignity, I suppose. I like ‘Lizzie.’ Why do you call me that?”

  “Did Timothy Carleton call you Elizabeth too?”

  “Oh, yes, probably for the same reason.”

  “Why did you ever marry him?”

  She grew very still. “No one knows why,” she said.

  He waited, but she said nothing. “When you’d like to tell me, feel free. Now, if you want to get out of this bed, you’d best do it now.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, drawing back.

  “Don’t be a fool. I’m the horny man here, and you can’t help it that you are the most adorable waif I’ve ever found on my doorstep.”

  He patted her cheek and quickly rose from the bed.

  “I’ll start breakfast,” he said, smiled, and left her.

  “You, Jonathan Harley,” she said to the empty room, “are the most unaccountable, wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

  The smell of frying bacon made her stomach growl.

  “Pancakes too?” she asked, coming into the old-fashioned kitchen.

  “You got it. Set the table by the fireplace. It’s cold this morning.”

  They ate breakfast in silence. Elizabeth kept putting her fork down and breathing in the incredible pine-scented salt air. It was heady and clean and pure.

  “Any swimming here?” she asked at last.

  “Not unless you’re a reptile. Well, yes, in the summer. But now you’d freeze your butt off.”

  They bundled up and took a walk after washing up the dishes. “No beaches,” Elizabeth said.

  “Nope, and what there are, are covered with rocks and pebbles. See the boathouse?” He pointed to a structure on stilts that was some fifteen feet out into the water. “The boat is under the boathouse. In the old days, the caretaker lived up top. Later, we can take the motorboat out, if you like, and play tourist in Newcastle. The sun’s bright, we should survive.”

  “I like,” said Elizabeth. “I’ve never been in a motorboat.”

  “Did I tell you I like your jeans? You look about eighteen and make me feel like a dirty old man.” He tugged lightly on her ponytail.

  She smiled up at him. “I like your jeans too. Very sexy.”

  They were standing beneath a pine tree, the only sounds the sea gulls cruising the beach. “You think so?” He bent down and kissed her.

  It had been so long, but more than that, she realized that she felt safe, realized that she’d finally come home. She felt something warm flood through her. She’d never felt this way before in her life.

  “We’ve got to stop, Lizzie,” he said, raising his head. “The first time we make love, I don’t want to do it on a bed of pine needles. It would wreck the mood and your bottom.”

  The realization made her silent. She just stared up at him, wondering what he was thinking. They’d been enemies for so long. She said suddenly, “Are you all right? Your company, that is? The loan, can you pay it off? You can expand now as you wanted to?”

  “Yes. Once you pulled your hooks out of me, things got back on track. In fact, if you want to buy one of those computer companies I showed you, just tell me which one, and I’ll buy the other.”

  She gave him her most serious business look. “That sounds fair enough.”

  “Let’s take the boat out and you can have your first taste of salt water in your mouth, on your face, and most important, in your eyes.”

  They motored over to Newcastle and wandered around the town. There were no tourists to speak of, but the inhabitants were about, doing Christmas shopping.

  “I don’t suppose there’s a Mexican restaurant anywhere here?”

  He laughed at her wistful tone. “Not that I know of, but we can buy the fixings.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin to make a taco.”

  “Then we’ll just have to buy a cookbook.”

  They did.

  The tacos weren’t half-bad, but it wasn’t until ten o’clock that evening that the wreckage in the kitchen was cleaned up.

  “Now to stoke up the fire,” Jonathan said. “Curl up, Lizzie, and we’ll get down-home here and romantic.”

  She handed him a glass of Chablis and they pulled the sofa closer to the fire. “You want to know something?” he asked, staring into the flames.

  “Something earth-shattering?”

  “I think so.” He took her wineglass and set it beside his on the coffee table.

  He turned to face her and grasped her hands in his. “I love you and I want you to marry me. I didn’t want to make love with you until I got that out. I’m talking for the rest of our lives, Elizabeth.”

  She looked down at his hands—large, capable hands, warm.

  “I was going to ask you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Were you, now?” He laughed and pulled her onto his lap.

  “But I was afraid to. Tell you how I felt about you, that is. In fact I was afraid of how I felt in the first place. Eve
rything’s been in such a mess and I just didn’t know.”

  She tucked her head into the spot between his neck and shoulder. “I thought you’d tell me to get lost, with relish.”

  “Nope. You already told me you loved me. It was up to me to finish it off.”

  That brought her head up.

  “If you find a woman huddled on your doorstep, I think it’s safe for a man to assume that she’s either a vagrant or a woman who loves him more than anything.”

  “I was a vagrant.”

  “Will you still marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “There are problems, but we’ll work them out.”

  She shivered.

  “No, I wasn’t thinking of Hunter. He’s been out of my head for at least two hours now. I was thinking about all the damned money, and the power, and the responsibility that goes along with it.”

  “You wouldn’t marry me for all that, would you?”

  “No,” he said, not at all angry. “I already did that. Well, not really, but that’s how it turned out. I was kind of hoping that I’d fall for a nice poor girl who would love me for my mental and athletic abilities rather than my money. Since neither of us is poor, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s old-fashioned heart-throbbing, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said, “yes, I do.” She cupped his face between her hands and kissed him. “You’re a wonderful man, Jonathan.”

  “Yes, ma’am, and don’t you forget it. And, Elizabeth, there will be problems, don’t kid yourself, but we’ll handle all of them.”

  “Yes, I think we really can,” she said, a kind of wonder in her voice.

  “Can I assume that you’re not wearing a bra under that outrageous shirt of yours?”

  She gave him a look that made him shake. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

  Jeans were hard to get off and they were both laughing at their contortions. Until they came together. Elizabeth heard the raucous squawk of a sea gull, felt the warmth of the fire on her bare skin. Then she felt his hands and his mouth, touching her, learning her body. When his mouth was at her breast, she arched her back to draw him closer.

  “So nice,” he said, and his breath was hot against her skin.

  She felt his hand stroke over her ribs, lower to her abdomen. He rested his hand on her belly and came up onto his elbow. “You’re beautiful, Elizabeth. And a natural blond.”

  “What did you expect?” Her voice sounded unnatural to her, high and thin, and she squirmed beneath his hand.

  “I expect,” he said, his voice warm and deep, “that you will be my last lover and that you’ll love what I plan to do to you every night for the next forty years or so.”

  “And what about me?” Her hand found him and began stroking. “What about what I plan to do to you?”

  “Just don’t do it with such enthusiasm,” he managed, “or you’re going to wonder what happened to me.”

  It wasn’t too much longer before she felt him deep inside her, covering her, watching her face closely as he moved. She felt his fingers find her between their sweating bodies.

  “Jonathan,” she whispered, then felt her body explode. And through those seconds she knew that he was watching her face, encouraging her with soft words.

  “I’m so lucky,” she said before she fell asleep in his bed.

  “You’re not the only one,” Jonathan said, his eyes on her face. “I’ll keep you safe, love.”

  He didn’t fall asleep as quickly as Elizabeth. Christian Hunter was back, in full regalia. What to do about the bastard? Jonathan knew the man was smart as hell. He made plans until he fell asleep, wrapped around Elizabeth.

  The next morning, they went into Damariscotta.

  “I have to call Adrian and Milly.” And Catherine, she added silently.

  “All right. Then we go to Newcastle, to a jeweler’s. We’re talking engagement ring here, kiddo.”

  The kids were lolling about in front of Jake’s, as usual. Jonathan recognized one of them, and waved.

  One teenager waved back. Then, to show off for the beautiful lady, he revved his cycle and took off in a cloud of dirt. Jonathan waited until Elizabeth disappeared into the phone booth, then went inside to buy some bullets for his .22 automatic.

  “Catherine?”

  “My God, Elizabeth! I’ve been frantic. Where are you?”

  “Safe. With Jonathan Harley. What’s going on?”

  Catherine drew a deep breath. “I went down to see Lieutenant Draper yesterday, furious about their behavior. You want to know what I found out? That woman who called you? The one Christian Hunter was keeping?”

  “What about her?” Elizabeth felt the cold creeping through her body. She knew . . . oh, yes, she knew.

  “She’s dead. Run down in the street.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. Christian had killed her because he was afraid she’d talk. But she’d said so little. She hadn’t deserved to die. “He’s crazy, isn’t he?”

  “That’s what I said to Draper, and that jackass laughed. He said there was no evidence, says no one saw who did it, just some kind of dark sedan. And supposedly Hunter has an alibi. His nurse says he was in his office doing correspondence at the time she was killed. Draper said he spoke to Christian Hunter, who told him that she had left him for another man. They’re now looking for this unknown character.”

  “Her first name was Susan. I remembered. I don’t even know her last name.”

  “It was Linski.”

  “Poor, poor woman. She didn’t do anything.”

  “You want to know what I did, Elizabeth? I called the governor and the mayor. I told them what was going on. I told them that my grandmother was very disturbed that the police were treating this all as a joke. After all, two people have been killed, Drake and Susan Linski. We’ll see what happens now.”

  “Thank you, Catherine. How is your grandmother?”

  “Holding her own. She already yelled at me about calling the bigwigs, and I told her to can it. Elizabeth, where are you in case I need you?”

  “Christmas Cove, Maine, of all places. Jonathan has a cabin here.”

  Catherine smiled into the phone. “I thought there was someone. Someone special. Who is he, Elizabeth?”

  “Actually, he’s a man I started out trying to destroy. Now he’s the man I’m going to marry.”

  “Marry!”

  “Yes, it sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Be happy for me, Catherine. I’m very sure, you know. For the first time in my life, I’m sure about another person.”

  “I guess I’m in shock. You’re not the only one who . . . Well, I’ll tell you later. Funny, isn’t it, how things can happen so quickly and yet be right, and you know they’re right. You be careful, Elizabeth. I assume your Jonathan knows everything?”

  “Yes. You’ll like him, Catherine. He’s a very fine man.”

  “If you trust him, then he must be.”

  They spoke for a few more minutes, then Elizabeth rang off. She spoke to Adrian and to Milly, but didn’t tell them where she was.

  “You ready for Newcastle?” Jonathan asked her when she hung up the phone. He saw her pale face, and hugged her. “It’ll be all right. Come along now, you can tell me everything on the way to Newcastle.”

  All he said when she’d finished was, “Can you trust Catherine Carleton?”

  “If I can’t, I might as well hang it up.”

  “That’s good enough for me. Let’s go get that ring. You can consider it your first Christmas present. Then I want to make love to you until the sea gulls stop squawking.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Exactly.”

  25

  He loved to touch her, to feel her smooth flesh beneath his fingers, to feel her muscles contract when his fingers splayed across her abdomen. He raised his hand just above her and said, “I want to fill you out, to about here.”

  Elizabeth laughed even though his voice was serious. “The fat lady in the circus, sailor?” />
  “Nope, the pregnant lady in my backyard.”

  She dropped her head, feeling stupid. “I’m not using birth control.”

  Jonathan lowered his hand, resting it on her hip. “Then let’s get married, here, in Newcastle.”

  “I like the way you problem-solve,” she said. She looked at the diamond-and-sapphire ring on her left hand.

  “It’s either that or birth control. It’s up to you.”

  “Jonathan, about kids and things . . .”

  “Hmmm?”

  His teeth nibbled around her stomach, his tongue going toward her navel.

  “That’s why I married Timothy.”

  His head jerked up, and his voice was incredulous: “He got you pregnant?”

  Elizabeth had buried it deep, so very deep. It all came back now, the pain and the humiliation, the hopelessness balanced by the gratitude. “I know people were divided into two camps. The majority feeling was of course that I’d married Timothy for his money. The minority opinion was that I married him because I wanted a father, a loving one this time. That was a very minor minority opinion, I might add. Actually, it was neither.”

  “What happened, Elizabeth?” He drew himself up on his side, balancing on his elbow. He gently pushed the hair behind her ear.

  “I was going out with this man who was a visiting pianist at Juilliard. He was Italian, from Milan. He was very intense, very talented. One night he raped me. It’s as simple as that. He loved it because I was a virgin, you see. I told him I was going to the police, and he just laughed. He said that everyone knew I was hot for him and I’d be ridiculed and my career ruined. Evidently he’d been bragging that he’d finally gotten icy Elizabeth Xavier to bed and that I loved it. I raged and all that, but I saw he was right, so eventually I tucked my tail between my legs and told him I never wanted to see him again.

  “I had met Timothy by that time. In all honesty, I was very fond of him. He was like a benign father, I suppose, but he was also very sophisticated, charming, and knew exactly what he wanted all of the time. I’d never met anyone like that before. He came to my apartment. I was crying my eyes out, wanting to die, because I’d found out I was pregnant and didn’t know what to do. I was raised to revere life, so I couldn’t get an abortion. I told him what the man had done.”