Charades

Copyright © 2013 by Ann Logan

All rights reserved. 

ISBN-13(eBook): 978-1-938568-09-1

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Edited by Elizabeth Levy-Adams

Cover Design by Bri Bruce

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     Never, ever accept a blind date! Why, oh, why couldn’t she ever follow her own rules? Mercy Fuentes groaned and delivered a perfect roundhouse kick to the body-size punching bag. But this was a date she couldn’t refuse, particularly after all Hazel Prendergast had done for her. Mercy grabbed a towel and wiped her face as she headed for the shower. Hazel was calling in her markers—a personal favor for a friend. How could Mercy argue? The fight was over before it even began, a knockout in the first round. She stuck her head under the shower faucet and turned the water on full blast, letting the heat steam some of her anxiety away.

     It was her own fault, really. She’d fallen for the ultimate sucker punch: Money. She was actually getting paid to go on this date, though why Hazel had chosen her instead of one of her theatrical employees was a bit mystifying. But still, seven hundred and fifty dollars a day for seven days was nothing to sneeze at. Five thousand, two hundred, and fifty dollars. That would make a big dent in her student loan obligations.

     Mercy finished her shower and slipped into the forest green suit Hazel insisted she wear. She ran her fingers through her still damp long curls, grabbed her purse, and headed to Hazel’s office.

     Ten minutes later, Mercy stepped into an elevator and punched the button for the seventh floor. She glanced at her watch; her timing was good.

     Hazel had hinted that the man didn’t date much and that “workaholic” described him best. Good. That made him somewhat more acceptable. It meant he was a nerd. She should know; she was one herself. Actually, being a nerd sounded far better than what she really was—a coward.

     All she had to do was ignore the clammy hands and breathlessness that signaled a panic attack. She inhaled deeply and pushed back her still moist dark hair, studying herself in the elevator mirror.

     The suit was flattering, but the sophisticated look didn’t feel right. Mercy tugged at the skirt clinging to her hips; she hated wearing clothes that attracted attention. She’d rather be hiding behind her roll top desk, the one piled high with books and notes and the work she should be doing right now. Just a few more weeks of work, a month at most, and she’d be through with her dissertation on German literature.

     The elevator pinged. Mercy wiped her damp hands and entered Hazel’s office suite. The scents of lemon oil and potpourri brought a flood of memories of her mother, hard at work on a Saturday morning finishing paperwork. How she’d loved sitting on the carpet, listening to her mother’s faint German accent as she spun stories of Hazel’s cosmopolitan lifestyle.

     Now, however, the days of youthful idealism were all past. How ironic that just when Hazel wanted to absorb her into that enviable world, Mercy wanted nothing to do with it. Academia, with its ivy-covered walls, was her sanctuary now.

     Judy Garner, Hazel’s secretary, sat at her desk shuffling papers. She pulled a pencil out of her teased, bleached blonde hair and thumped it a couple of times on the wood in front of her. She shook her head, peering over the glasses perched on her nose. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Judy had a West Texas twang that could peel the spine off a cactus when she was angry. Today, it held some concern.

     “Neither can I,” Mercy muttered. “Do I look okay?” She straightened her lightweight linen jacket, her gaze not quite meeting Judy’s.

     “Hell, yes, you look okay. That green looks great on you. Brings out the color in your eyes.”

     “Thanks.”

     “Don’t worry, kid. When I found out what Hazel planned, I read through this guy’s background. He checks out cleaner than a whistle. Just another petroleum engineer, kiddo. We have a bunch of those guys here in Texas. He’s no different than the rest of ‘em, even if he does have an accent.” Judy paused. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

     Mercy grimaced. Judy had a real nose for the unusual or suspicious. If she hadn’t found anything bad about this man, then he was undoubtedly the card-carrying workaholic Hazel had described. Probably he met the three “b’s” of a blind date—bald, blubbery, and boring.

     “Thanks,” she said again, her eyes finally meeting Judy’s, “for everything. Wish me luck. Okay?”

     “You got it.” Judy flourished a hand at the closed door. “Her Royal Highness awaits you.”

     Mercy tapped a couple of times on the door, then let herself into Hazel’s office. The plush blue and gold Aubusson rug on the gleaming oak parquet floor absorbed the sound of Hazel’s footsteps as she came around the desk to embrace her. “Darling, you look fabulous,” Hazel gushed in the upper class, British accent that never failed to entrance everyone. Lifting one eyebrow, she inspected Mercy. “Do you have to wear those glasses?” she asked, frowning.

     Mercy shrugged. Glasses were her first line of defense against the world, and she normally clung to them with dogged persistence.

     “I suppose I don’t really need them,” she admitted, tucking them into her purse. When she saw the glare Hazel continued to give her, she laughed. “Don’t give me that look. I put them away.”

     “My dear,” Hazel shook her head in mock despair, “sometimes I don’t know what to do with you. You have a figure sent by the gods, but why you don’t do more with it, I’ll never know. Just look at all that beautiful, thick, dark hair.” Hazel lifted Mercy’s hair out from her face and let it fall back down. “Such flawless olive skin and lovely, exotic green eyes. It makes me weep, yes, weep to see how you ignore yourself.”

     Mercy flushed. “Hazel, you exaggerate.”

     “I do not. Turn around. Let me really look at you.” 

     Mercy pirouetted for Hazel’s inspection, then laughed. “You’ve been gone for almost a month Hazel, too long, but as usual you look great.” It was remarkable how tanned, toned, and fit Hazel Prendergast always looked. She had to be in her late fifties or early sixties, but you’d never know it.

     Hazel shrugged. “The Caribbean always does that for me.”

     “There’s something different, though.” Mercy narrowed her eyes and shot Hazel a pointed look. “You’ve been to Dr. Fix-it again, haven’t you?”

     “Darling,
I’ll
never tell.” Hazel laughed. “No woman would admit such a thing, unless she’s a fool, which, you know I’m not. Besides, a woman who’d tell that kind of secret would tell
anything
and should never be trusted.”

     “You did say ten, didn’t you?” Mercy squinted at her watch.

     “I did say ten.” Hazel nodded. “And you can see fine without those hideous glasses. I wanted to talk to you before Mr. Rheinhart arrives. It seems your assignment will involve more twists than we’d originally discussed.”

     Mercy held her breath. “Twists, what twists?”

     “Oh, sit down. You make me uncomfortable standing there.” Hazel waved her to a chair. “I didn’t know about this until this morning. Of course, I demanded that he pay you
twice
the normal rate when he told me his new requirements.”

     Mercy gulped, ten thousand, five hundred dollars! She could almost pay off her loans! She took a deep breath. “I know I owe you. I should volunteer to do this for free.”

     “No way!” Hazel snapped. “He’s going to pay, and pay through the nose, too.”

     “Look, I still don’t understand why you need
me
.”

     “I need you,” Hazel said with some exasperation, “precisely
because
of your unusual assets. You’re attractive, you’re…”

     “Oh, Hazel, not that again.”

     “No, don’t argue with me. Just listen. You’re not only attractive, you’re educated, and I need someone who speaks German fluently.”

     “But Ursula can speak German,” Mercy interrupted, knowing Ursula was one of Hazel’s favorite clients for her dating service. What was Hazel up to? It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to trick Mercy into dating someone.

     “Yes, she does, but she doesn’t play golf. Certainly not like you do. Nobody I have is in your league.”

     What Hazel said was true. Mercy could have been on the pro circuit if she’d wanted to be. However, the pro circuit held too many unknowns—meaning men. “Okay,” Mercy conceded with as much grace as she could muster, “but what about these ‘special twists?’”

     “Nothing outside your abilities,” Hazel replied with a flippant shrug. “But it will involve a little more acting than originally planned.”

     “Come on, Hazel. What gives?”

     “Simple, darling. You just have to pretend that you’re, um, shall we say, affectionate?”

     Mercy took a deep breath and wiped her hands on her skirt. “Define affectionate,” she began. “I draw the line at anything more than holding hands.” Not that she had anything to worry about. Men rarely looked twice at her.

     Hazel skirted the question with ease. “I’m sure Judy told you, he’s been investigated thoroughly. He’s a legitimate workaholic who is totally inept with women.”

     “So, what is the problem?”

     “The problem, my dear, is he’s trying to explore for oil in Ecuador. Everything is lined up, the government, the site, they even know the oil is there.”

     Mercy shrugged. “I repeat, what is the problem?”

     “Unfortunately, to get the oil, he needs Red Ryder’s company, Reveille Drilling. They’re the company with the patent for the new laser drill that practically melts rock as it bores a hole.”

     “Keep talking.”

     “Well, this Ryder chap likes to get to know a person better before he signs on the dotted line with them. In the interest of further negotiations, he’s asked Mr. Rheinhart to join him for a week at his Texas ranch near Boerne. That’s where you come in. You’ll complete a foursome with them on their private golf course. Ryder’s wife is a golf nut, you see.”

     Hazel waved a hand in the air. “You’ll get to play golf to your heart’s delight, as well as ride, fish, hunt, or whatever else it is you Texans do on your ranches. I hear they have a Scottish style course, a bit more wild and challenging. Sound like fun?”

     Fun, yes. But it still sounded too easy for all that money. “What aren’t you telling me?”

     Hazel coughed. “Well, actually, you won’t be just his date for the week, you’re to be his fiancée.”

     “His
what
?”

     “You know, his ‘intended?’” Hazel said patiently. “Mr. Rheinhart is quite adamant about this. It has to look as though you’re planning to marry in the very near future. Red Ryder only works with family men.”

     “I don’t know about this,” Mercy said. She stood up, shaking her head.

     “Let me explain. Mr. Rheinhart is a self-made man who’s never had time for a girlfriend, much less a fiancée.”

     Mercy walked over to the window, unsure. She took a few calming breaths. “Okay, so he’s a nerd like me. How old is he? It won’t be very convincing if he’s too old and I look like a young ‘chippie.’”

     Hazel pursed her lips in obvious irritation. “He’s only thirty-one, so you certainly won’t look like anyone’s ‘chippie.’”

     Mercy nodded. She was still betting on the nerd part, praying for it, in fact. “All right, all right. So when do I meet him?”

     Hazel looked at her watch. “He should be here any minute. I scheduled him later than you. I’ll just buzz Judy for some tea while we wait.”

     Before she could press the button, however, Judy’s nasal twang echoed over the intercom announcing Mr. Rheinhart. Mercy swallowed a large lump in her throat, sat down to keep her knees from shaking, and smoothed her skirt. Her blind date, ah… ‘fiancé’ had arrived.

     “Send him in,” Hazel cooed, settling herself into the leather chair behind her desk, a Cheshire cat smile dancing over her face.

     When the door opened, Mercy turned her head. Never until that moment had she believed in the idea of chemistry between two people, much less love at first sight. The man who stood in the doorway, however, made her heart stop beating.