And then Simon let go of her so suddenly that Phoebe teetered and was glad for the car at her back. Shocked, she stared at him until her senses righted.
“What was that for?” she gasped.
“Just proving my point.”
Only he wasn’t smiling now...
Nor was she.
Uh-oh...
Phoebe was aghast. She’d just collided with the very thing she’d been trying her best to avoid since meeting Simon. Try as she might to forget the incident ever happened, however, she was only made of flesh and blood.
Weak flesh, she amended ruefully, unable to settle down inside. Just like the other women in her family.
Only she was the one with sense enough to label what she was feeling for exactly what it was, no more. No hearts and flowers. No pretense.
She was simply in lust with the man.
Now what was she going to do about it?
THE RATCLIFF HOME proved to be a three-story contemporary mansion set in a subtropical garden overlooking Naples Bay. A pale coral ceramic-tile roof topped tasteful white stucco. The upper two floors were surrounded by a veranda. From what Simon could tell, every room had access to the outside.
As he pressed the door buzzer, he steeled himself against another weird reaction from the person who answered. But the uniformed young woman who opened the door didn’t seem to know him from Adam.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asked pleasantly.
“Simon Calderon. I’m here to see Blair Ratcliff. Is she in?”
The young woman nodded. “Please follow me.”
She led him through a media room the size of a small theater and out to the largest lanai he’d ever seen. One end was dotted with full-grown palm trees whose fronds nearly reached the screened roof.
“If you’ll wait, I’ll alert Miss Blair.”
“I’ll be here.”
Simon wandered through what appeared to be a living room with cushioned rattan sofas and chairs and glass-topped tables. Flanking either side of the sitting area were formal gardens set around sizable sculptures, and before him was a swimming pool with a waterfall rushing down from the hot tub above. Though outdoors, the area was made more comfortable by misters, the finely sprayed water droplets released by concealed valves overhead.
He’d barely taken in his surroundings when the door behind him opened.
A tall, curvaceous redhead wearing a flower-print dress barely more substantial than a one-piece swimsuit breezed out of the house. On seeing him, she stopped dead. Though her thick-lashed green eyes grew wide, she didn’t take long to find her voice.
“I don’t know why I’m even the tiniest bit surprised. He did say you were twins.”
“Then you may be the only one he told.”
“Not surprising,” she purred, moving closer. “Boone and I had a very special relationship, until that Laughlin witch decided to leave her husband and go after him. Some women always want what they can’t have.”
“It seems that Audra did have Boone, however.”
“Yes...well...” Her shrug was nonchalant and her classically beautiful features remained composed. “Now she has him forever, doesn’t she?”
A bit cruel considering the circumstances, Simon decided, choosing to take the opening.
He echoed, “Forever,” then patted down his pockets as if she’d just reminded him of something. “The reason I’m here...one of them...was to return this to you.”
He whipped out the engagement ring and handed it to her, while carefully watching for her reaction.
Blair gave the valuable piece of jewelry little more than a glance before pitching it onto a side table as if it were so much junk.
“Now what were those other reasons?” she asked.
“Mainly, I wanted to meet you to say how sorry I was—”
“That Boone died? Yes, it is a shame, isn’t it?” She sauntered to a drink cart. “Can I offer you a glass of wine? Something stronger?”
“Not for me, thanks. I was going to say how sorry I was that my brother broke your heart.”
Her expression amused, she poured a Merlot for herself. “Do I appear to be some pitiful, brokenhearted creature?”
Actually, she appeared to be one cold cookie. Under other circumstances, Simon would have said so, without compunction. But, now, because he wanted something from her, he chose to play her carefully.
He took a seat on one of the sofas and said, “Sometimes we cover our true emotions.”
“I assure you, Simon, my heart is intact. Don’t get me wrong. I was quite fond of Boone—while it lasted. But I’m the one who broke off the engagement.”
“And from what I understand, with good reason.”
Blair claimed a chair opposite him and crossed her tanned legs, allowing her already short skirt to ride up her shapely thighs. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted the same shocking shade of orange as her long fingernails. And her ankle bracelet appeared to be a thick gold ribbon, the clasp an emerald larger than the diamond in the ring. Matching emeralds hid her earlobes.
“I could have defeated the witch at her own game,” she was saying, “but I was already bored with playing and I was hanging in only because it was easier. Boone and I were well matched in the bedroom. But in the drawing room and the family business...” She shrugged. “He didn’t quite measure up to Ratcliff standards, after all.”
“Business?”
“Daddy is Jay Ratcliff.” When he didn’t respond, she clarified. “Jay Ratcliff Jewelers.”
“I see,” Simon said, though he didn’t really.
The rich and famous held no fascination for him. But Blair’s background might explain her easy contempt for the costly ring. Undoubtedly, she was accustomed to her pick of fine jewelry.
“Mamma and Daddy were furious when I started seeing Boone. I guess our brief engagement was my way of showing them that I was my own woman.”
“You’re saying you used Boone?”
A smile quirked her orange-hued lips. “We used each other, Simon. Isn’t that what grown-ups do?”
A rhetorical question, one he chose not to address. “Who are you using now?” he asked instead.
Her eyebrows arched. “Interested?”
“Curious.”
If Blair had gotten over Boone as she’d implied, surely she’d be involved with someone else by now.
“We could discuss it later,” she suggested. “Say...over drinks?”
She was challenging him, no doubt about it. Why? To find out, he supposed he’d have to take the bait. Which presented him with a further opportunity to delve into her psyche, to determine if she was capable of murder. She’d already contradicted herself, first saying she and Boone had a special relationship until Audra came into the picture, then claiming she’d only been hanging in because it was easier.
“Make that dinner,” he said, choosing to keep the upper hand. “Tomorrow night.”
“The Wharf? It overlooks the water. Near Tin City.”
“I’ll find it.”
“At nine.”
“Seven,” he countered. “I’m an early riser so I get to bed early.”
“Don’t worry,” she murmured. “That can be arranged.”
Her expression reminded Simon of a cat planning to snack on an unwary, slightly stupid mouse.
Chapter Five
Uncertainty competed with loathing as Phoebe waited for Vance Laughlin to take her call. It galled her that she had to speak to Audra’s estranged husband at all. It galled her that she would have to treat the probable murderer with politeness, perhaps deference. She only hoped she would be convincing enough over the phone that she wouldn’t actually have to challenge him in person.
Suddenly the line came alive with his sharp, “Yeah, what do you want, Phoebe?”
Nice greeting...not that she should have expected any better of him.
At least he wasn’t pretending to be the poor, anguished widower as he had with the police and the media after the bodi
es were discovered. To the rest of the world, he’d been the picture of abject grief. She’d caught his act on those video clips run on the nightly news and again at the funeral and graveside. For a moment, she’d thought he was going to fling himself on the coffin.
And part of her had wanted him to...wouldn’t have minded seeing him buried alive...
She took a deep breath and plunged in. “Vance, I need to talk to you about—“
“So talk already!”
“—going through Audra’s personal effects.” Another breath. “You know, for the family.”
Silence.
Butterflies fluttering through her stomach, Phoebe clenched her jaw and waited. Simon’s advice on how to handle her brother-in-law—using feminine wiles, as she saw it—didn’t sit well with her. But she’d already promised herself she would do whatever was necessary.
Finally, he said, “Tell me why I should even give you the time of day.”
“I was your wife’s sister.”
“Who tried setting the cops on me!”
Wondering how he could know, Phoebe shrank inside. “I merely answered their questions,” she lied, heart hammering. “They were so thorough...wanting to know about the problems in the marriage...the spirit of the breakup. I—I was naturally upset over Audra’s death. I truly don’t remember everything they asked or implied.”
Vance waited a beat before saying, “You already have access to Audra’s things at your mother’s place.”
She thought he sounded calmer. Had he bought her fabrication, then? If only she knew exactly who had told him what.
“I’m certain you’re aware that Audra didn’t take all that much with her when she left you, Vance.”
Her sister had wanted her freedom and well-being more than things. Thank goodness. That allowed Phoebe a pretext on which to get into her brother-in-law’s home, and hopefully, to find something that would upset the neat theory the authorities had so readily accepted.
“What exactly do you expect to find, Phoebe?” Vance asked smoothly.
She heard the underlying distrust in his tone. To allay any suspicions he might have, she drew on Simon’s advice and used a purposely shaky voice.
“I—I’m not sure. Photos...some k-keepsakes.. maybe the locket.”
“I don’t remember any locket.”
“I’m sure she didn’t w-wear it anymore. It wasn’t worth anything to anyone but the two of us,” Phoebe said. As she stared down at the piece of inexpensive jewelry nestled in her palm, real if unexpected tears gathered in her eyes. She didn’t have to pretend to be emotional. “It was my present to Audra for her sixteenth birthday.”
“What makes you think she kept the damn thing?”
“Some people are sentimental. Besides, Audra promised me she would keep it forever.” Hating to grovel, she nevertheless said, “Please, Vance, just cut me some slack this one time and I won’t bother you again,” in a slightly whiny voice.
A longer silence.
During which all manner of thoughts flitted through Phoebe’s mind, first and foremost being whether or not he was on to her. If the real killer guessed her true purpose...
Not that she could let that possibility stop her.
Then he said, “If you must,” the simple words conveying his continued reluctance if not further suspicion. “You’re in luck. This is one of Regina’s days.” He sounded cold now. All business-efficient. “I’ll call the house and alert her. What time should I say you’ll be there?”
“I’m not exactly sure.” Phoebe didn’t have a clue as to when Simon would return. “In a couple of hours, I guess. I have a few things I need to take care of first. For the Blue Crab,” she added, hoping her mentioning the bar and grill would further allay his suspicions.
“Just be out of there before I get home.”
“Yes, of course.”
She didn’t want to see Vance any more than he wanted to see her. They’d disliked each other from the get-go, she because of the type of man he was, he because of her keenness. As if he hadn’t had a thing to do with the wreck of his own marriage, he’d actually blamed her when Audra had first left him.
And now she blamed him for her sister’s death.
She was happy to end the conversation and even happier that her number-one suspect had unknowingly given her permission to find proof of his guilt. A thrill of anticipation shot through her.
Then came the waiting.
Fixing herself a fruit salad for lunch, Phoebe was hoping Simon would call, but no such luck. She regretted not having told him to check in with her. For all she knew, he might not be back until it was too late to get to Fort Myers, find what they needed and get out before her brother-in-law left his office. And undoubtedly hell would freeze over before Vance was so amenable again.
A quick swim worked off some of her anxiety. Changing into loose cotton pants and shirt, she checked the clock. Nearly two. Where the heck was Simon? He’d better be getting the goods on Blair Ratcliff.
Not knowing what else to do with herself until he chose to show, she faced the inevitable.
He’s making life miserable for me. Won’t accept that I’ve left him for good. That it’s over. That I have no feelings for him...if I ever did.
Went for drinks with him. One last try to convince him in a civilized manner. He saw it as his chance to woo me back into his bed, into his life. When I resisted, he turned ugly, acted like he could force me if he wanted to. I told him to go to hell and got home on my own.
He doesn’t care about me, really, just doesn’t want to lose a trophy.
But I don’t want to lose my sanity...or my life.
Besides, I have Boone now. Couldn’t even think about letting another man touch me. Not that I can share that with anyone yet. Not even with Phoebe.
Keeping our relationship clandestine has its advantages. The secrecy itself is too titillating to give up. Even thinking about being with him arouses me. And when I set eyes on him, my desire feels beyond bearing....
We continue to pretend nothing more than friendliness in public, while in private anything goes.
Tonight we didn’t wait to get home. I excused myself for the ladies’ room. Before I could lock the door, he’d followed me inside.
What if someone figured out what we were doing?
Thinking that they might... that maybe one of them would walk in on us...added a sense of urgency...a seductive hint of danger....
This time, he took me on the edge of the sink. Didn’t even bother to remove my panties, merely pushed the material aside before he slid inside me. I leaned back and wrapped my legs around his waist and set my shoulders against the mirror so he could push deeper and fill me completely.
Oh, does he know how to work me. The whispered words...that bedroom gaze....
It didn’t take me long to approach the edge. Just as I was losing it, he reached behind me and hit the faucet handle, spraying my back with icy water.
I went up like a geyser....
The doorbell practically made Phoebe jump out of her skin. She fumbled with the diary and was shoving it in the bedside drawer when the chime sounded again.
“Coming!” she yelled.
Heart pumping, trying to shake the effect that left her trembling inside and feeling a little guilty besides, she somehow made her way to the front door. Throwing it open, she came face-to-face with Simon.
One look at her and he raised his eyebrows and lowered his sleepy-looking lids, as if he could tell what she’d been doing...what she was thinking.
She was imagining him pinning her up against the edge of the sink—
“Can I come in?”
“Oh. Right.”
Phoebe stepped aside and he glided into the living area, his arm brushing hers. She fought the weak kneed feeling that followed. She had to get over this. Stop thinking of him every time she read a diary entry. Keep straight in her mind that Audra’s fantasies were not hers. That Boone was not Simon, no matter how much they looked alike.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
He’d caught her all right, Phoebe thought, closing the door. “Actually, I was just reading while I was waiting to hear from you.” She wanted to tell him about the diary less than ever. “I talked Vance into letting me into the house.”
“When?” Simon asked.
“We should leave right away.”
All the rationalization in the world proved to be nothing but a mental exercise. Her flesh was weak. And deprived. Staying sharp around Simon would be a feat in itself.
Leaving him for a moment to slip on some sandals and fetch her shoulder bag gave her the space to cool down. And to remember Audra’s entry: I don’t want to lose my sanity...or my life. Surely they’d find something. Then she was all efficiency, hurrying Simon into her car, not indulging in conversation until they were on the road.
“What about you?” she finally asked. “Did you get to Blair?”
His “You could say that” held a wealth of meaning that unaccountably irritated her.
Phoebe sneaked a glance Simon’s way, but sunglasses shaded his eyes, and for once he was wearing a poker face. Because Blair had gotten to him as well as his brother? Boone had once been seduced by the society beauty.
What was to say his twin didn’t have a similar taste in women?
Voice clipped, she asked, “So what did you learn?”
“Just that Blair Ratcliff doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve. She’s either one cold cookie or a really talented liar.”
Relaxing her death grip on the steering wheel, she murmured, “I could have told you that.”
“But I’ll get another chance at her tomorrow night.”
At her? “How so?”
“We’re meeting for dinner. Her suggestion. At least the meeting part was hers.”
“Why bother?” she asked lightly.
“She came on to me. It’ll be interesting to see where she takes it.”
Phoebe swallowed hard. Blair Ratcliff was a gorgeous woman. One she couldn’t compete with. If she wanted to compete. Which she didn’t.
She snapped on the radio to a raucous Spanish-language station out of Miami. Unfortunately, this was one time she couldn’t get into the salsa beat. Still, she hid behind the music.
A Lover Awaits Page 6
