Cinderella Busted (The Cinderella Romances #1) (12 page)

Decorated with two enormous couches, a handful of chairs and chaises, and a ten-foot flat screen TV on the wall, the living room still managed a comfortable, lived-in appeal. Three sets of French doors led out to a breathtaking terrace with an Olympic-sized pool on the north end, and a separate pool house beyond. She realized now the mansion sat on a promontory for she could see the tops of the dunes from the terrace as well as the ocean beyond.

“It doesn’t make me jealous to see something this big and fancy,” Jason said, matter-of-factly, “because only a handful of people in America can afford a house like this.”

Lily froze.

It couldn’t be
.

“Come on, Lily, get a move on,” Jason prodded, pulling two palms from the cart and arranging them according to the plan. “We’ll set ‘em in place first and then unsleeve everything at the same time. Easier to clean up that way.”

“Sure.” She nodded and grabbed two palms off the cart. “Did the lady say who her
friend
was? The friend who lives here?”

There was no mailbox out front. She’d checked when they pulled in.

“Nope. She just said the gift was for her dear, dear friend who had just redecorated the lower level. If this is redecorated, I’d like to see what it used to look like.”

Lily placed her palm trees where he pointed and retrieved two more. Rhett didn’t seem the redecorating type though he was surely one of the
handful
of people Jason mentioned who could afford this house.

This friend must be a woman, and Lily was worrying for no reason. Still, she wanted to finish and get out. The fewer Jupiter socialites she met right now, as the real Lily Foster, the better. At least until she could come clean with Rhett. They wheeled their cart to an enormous dining room, then to an over-sized kitchen and eat-in area, and back to the truck for another load of plant material.

“Slow down, Lily,” Jason ordered, as she tugged the cart up the sidewalk, “or you’ll dump the whole cart. We’re ahead of schedule.”

“Sorry,” she said and slowed at the side ramp to the front door. The architect had planned ahead and designed a side ramp to cart oversized accoutrements into the house. She glanced in the gilt-framed foyer mirror on the way past and inwardly groaned. She looked dirty, wrinkled, and frazzled and would need every minute she had allotted to get ready for her date tonight.

Rhett cursed at the I-95 traffic under his breath and steered his Navigator into the far left lane behind a Mercedes SUV. Garrett often chided him for driving himself around and claimed, “Billionaires have drivers, and you should, too. Especially since you get so mad in traffic.”

He almost smiled and would have if he wasn’t so mad at the traffic. He hated traffic, yet enjoyed the freedom to drive himself around, which created quite a conundrum. He didn’t like depending on others and wanted to be free to get up and run when the mood hit, especially those nights when he couldn’t sleep and went to the office to work at three in the morning. He couldn’t very well wake some poor chauffeur in the middle of the night to drive him.

He put on his blinker and eased back to the middle lane when the occupants picked up speed. Garrett also thought he needed a sports car, or four. Rhett chuckled. He had been too poor for too long to blow his money on things he didn’t need or want, and his Navigator suited him just fine, traffic and all. What he needed now was to get home and get cleaned up before his date with Lily. He still had a few phone calls to make, and he limited his calls while driving.

He wanted to call Lily again, but that was stupid. He’d already called her once, and she didn’t need to know he was
completely
besotted with her. At least not until he had a good idea where he stood with her. His best-laid plans to come to his senses about Lily while in London had gone awry. Instead, he had missed her more as each day ticked by.

He groused again at the traffic. Palm Beach International Airport was close to home, but the wreck near Palm Beach Gardens made the half-hour trip take well over an hour. The 706 exit lay just ahead. He honked and changed lanes, impatient to get free of the snarled traffic. Once off the interstate, he took a detour through Yacht Club Estates and approached Jupiter Island from the south. His nerves eased the closer he got to his home.

He reached his entrance drive and hit the brakes.

What the hell was going on?

Delia’s Jaguar and a delivery truck were parked outside his house. What was that woman up to now? He clenched his jaw at the disruption in his schedule and squeezed the SUV around the truck. Bloom & Grow stood out in bright green letters on the side. That was the nursery where Garrett bought his specialty trees, the nursery where he met Lily.

His fingertips suddenly tingled, and he white-knuckled the steering wheel. Ever since childhood, that strange tingling always forecast a moment of doom or gloom—a beating from his drunken uncle, a pop quiz in school, a construction accident. The list went on and on, but the tingling had never been wrong.

He punched the remote button for his garage door and rolled the Navigator inside. Abandoning his luggage for the moment, he swiftly strode through the back door into the kitchen and down the hall. Up ahead, Delia smiled from the open library door.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to sound casual rather than angry at the invasion.

“I wanted to surprise you with a housewarming gift, darling.” She slid a palm up his chest, and he grabbed her hand to hold it still.

“I’ve lived here for three years, Delia.” He heard the edge in his voice. Not exactly nice when she just told him she’d brought a gift, but she’d caught him off-guard. To say nothing of her history of buying friends and boyfriends alike.

“Yes, but you just redecorated, so it’s like a brand-new house.” Her hand still captive, she eased closer until her breasts pressed against his chest.

“How did you get in?”

“I still have my key,” she said, her voice turning sultry.

Rhett took a long, deep breath. He couldn’t be angry over a gift, and he had completely forgotten he’d given her a key to his house long ago. He made a mental note to get his locks changed, knowing Delia would have had a spare key made. His needs had just changed from unpacking and a hot shower to getting this gift-giving with Delia over with as quickly as possible.

He took a step back and released her hand. “So what did you get me?” he said and pulled on his schmoozy developer smile.

“Plants,” she said with a pleased grin. “Lots of lovely house plants. You go on and have a look. I’ve been reading here in the library, so I’ll just get my things and join you in the great room in a few minutes. The two delivery gardeners are finishing up out on the terrace.”

He gaped at her. “Plants? Really? I’ve been meaning to get some.”

He’d be even more pleased with her gift if he hadn’t already planned to ask Lily to shop for plants with him since she knew so much about landscaping.

Delia’s grin broadened and looked positively devilish. She waved him off. “Go on and have a look. I’ll be right there.”

Glad to put some distance between them, Rhett ventured toward the great room and cringed when he realized Delia would certainly expect carnal gratitude for her thoughtfulness. He strode into the cavernous room and came to a stop halfway across. The center pair of French doors stood open, and he had a clear view of his terrace.

A petite blonde clad in a denim shirt, khaki shorts, and work boots struggled to remove some kind of wrapping from an enormous twisted-trunk
Ficus
tree held steady by a similarly clad young man. There was something definitely familiar about the woman though she was turned away from him.

Rhett shifted to get a better look and bumped into a side table near the couch.

The woman turned and glanced back.

He stilled, frozen in place.

Lily
.

Strands of her silky hair straggled free of her ponytail, and dirt smudged her cheeks, hands, and clothes, but the woman scrabbling with the brown paper wrapper was his Lily—dressed like a gardener.

Was she in cahoots with Delia over this house-warming gift? The utter shock on her face quickly turning to panic told him no, that was definitely not the case.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked, taking a step forward and then another.

Lily’s face blanched, and she stepped back from the tree, her grubby hand reaching up to cover her mouth.

“What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?” he demanded, in his construction-site-commander tone that always retrieved immediate answers and compliance. He stalked toward the doorway. His hands involuntarily went to his hips.

Still she stared with that same stricken expression.

“Answer me,” he ordered, all the impatience in his afternoon coming to a head.

His beautiful, innocent Lily was in his house and dressed like a laborer—or better yet, a street urchin—and wrangling with Delia’s blasted plants.

After watching Lily stare mutely, the young man with her blurted, “We’re delivering plants, sir. Are you the owner of the house?”

Rhett glanced briefly at the man clutching the greenery. “Yes, I am.”

The man looked nervous. “Your lady friend bought these for you as a gift and let us into the house, even drew up a floor plan on where we were to place the plants.”

Rhett was having trouble breathing. The
us
and
we
obviously included Lily, and she stared at him like a rabbit ready to run from a bobcat. And Rhett was the bobcat.

“
You’re
from Bloom & Grow?” he managed, while staring into Lily’s panic-stricken eyes.

“Yessir,” the man answered quickly, in an attempt to soothe what he obviously considered to be an irate customer. “I’m Jason Graber, the shipping supervisor and this is—” Lily’s soft gasp stopped him for an instant. “—Lily Foster. She runs Bloom & Grow.”

A chilled wave of disappointment flooded through Rhett, followed by an icy tide of betrayal that stiffened muscles and joints, bones and sinew. His hands balled into fists, flattened back out, and then recurled. He felt only the cold paralysis of deceit.

How?

Why?

Lily had played him for a fool, masqueraded as a Jupiter socialite to lure him to her web like a black widow lured her prey. What an act! Right down to the innocence. Her acting abilities were beyond compare. He’d fallen for her deception—hook, line, and sinker. The answer to the question of
why
came easy. His money, of course.

Just like all the other women in my life.

“You lied to me,” he growled and stared hard into Lily’s eyes, still hoping to spot evidence of honest denial.

“No!” she cried, finally finding her voice. “I never lied! I just didn’t tell you who I was.” She choked back a sob. “I didn’t know how.”

Her distraught act came off as believable as her innocence masquerade. He should have taken her to bed in New York when he had the chance. She had no doubt been around the block a time or two. Maybe if he had bedded her, he wouldn’t be so enraged he could barely see at the moment. At least, he would have felt compensated for his time and trouble.

“You didn’t know
how
?” he repeated at full volume. “Or is that a game you play at the nursery? Dress up in sexy clothes and lure wealthy men into your lair to buy lots and lots of your damn trees?”

Two bright pink blotches flared in her cheeks. “How dare you!” she said indignantly. “I didn’t even know who you were when you walked in the office.”

“How dare
I
?” he thundered again.

Rage welled up in his chest, overtaking the ache of hurt and disappointment and even the sense of loss and betrayal. She had played him for a sucker—the oldest game in the world. Only after his money, just like every other woman in his life. Except her plot had been more devious,
and
he had cared about her. Oh, how he had cared.

At this moment, he preferred any one of his Hollywood starlets or supermodels who made no effort to couch their money-hungry tendencies in innocence or affection. He would even prefer Delia over this liar, this betrayer.

He had been played, pure and simple.

“I was going to tell you.” Lily’s eyes glistened with her crocodile tears. “I wanted to tell you from the first.”

“Could’ve fooled me because you sure had ample opportunity. Like in New York?” he sneered.

She reared back as though he had slapped her.

“I couldn’t,” she said. Real tears streaked down both cheeks. “It was all too perfect. I wanted it to last.”

The knife he felt in his gut twisted when her eyes filled with tears. Lord, he wanted to believe her, but women had never played fair with Rhett Buchanan from Indiantown. Women were only after his money, and for the first time in his life, he regretted being a billionaire.

“Perfect?” he growled. “How was it perfect? Like when you pretended to be a wealthy socialite? Or when you pretended to be innocent? And to get what? Did you think I’d propose to get in your bed?”

He saw the light flare in her tear-filled eyes, and his rage flamed anew. He’d guessed right all along. His last hopes dashed against the steel door closing his heart back into its familiar vault.

“I’ve got news for you,
lady
. And I use that term loosely.” He ignored her outraged gasp. “I
only
wanted you in my bed. Nothing else. And now, I don’t even want that.”

He watched her lower lip quiver, and he fought off the remorse stabbing at him for hurting her. She was only playing him again.

She straightened suddenly, threw her shoulders and head back like a miniature blond general. “Good,” she said curtly, “because you’re nothing like the man I thought you were.”

What kind of man did you think I was
? He found he truly wanted to know, but he’d die before he asked her.

“We’ll be finished in a few minutes,” she said, in that new commanding tone, “and then we’ll leave.” All trace of tears remarkably vanished.

Game over
.