Low Country Liar (18 page)

The weekend dragged slowly by for Lisa. By Monday morning, the strain of being bright, supposedly untroubled company for Mitzi was beginning to show in her pale features. While Lisa was walking to Slade's office, she debated whether she was going to carry out her masquerade as Ann Eldridge for another day. The affirmative answer was inescapable. She had to find out the extent of Slade's treachery.

Drew followed her into the office when she arrived. "A redhead in basic black. I can't think of a more striking combination than that," he declared with a wolfish smile.

"Flattery will get you absolutely nowhere with me." She ran a perspiring palm over the hip of her black pantsuit.

The box-style jacket was a reversible green plaid. Lisa wished now she had chosen to wear that side out instead of the black. She would have felt less like being in mourning.

"Not even an acceptance of my lunch invitation?"

"No," she refused.

She was much too tense to make small talk over a sandwich, even if the noon hour was three hours away. Her taut condition was unlikely to improve.

"I don't think you're ever going to say yes," Drew sighed.

The outer office door swung open and Slade came striding in. Vitality radiated from him with the blinding force of direct sunlight, and Lisa was glad she was sitting in her chair. The sight of him made her weak, especially when he walked directly to her desk and flashed her one of his devastating smiles.

"Good morning, Mrs. Eldridge, Drew." He picked up the morning mail sitting in the basket on her desk and began glancing through it, a trace of the smile still curving the hard line of his mouth.

"Good morning, Mr. Blackwell." Lisa had to lower her gaze to keep from devouring him with her eyes.

Drew whistled softly. "Introduce me to her, Slade."

"To whom?" Slade tipped his head curiously at his close friend and associate, the half smile not leaving his mouth.

"To the girl who made your weekend so bright that it carried over to Monday morning.
 
She must be special to make you this cheerful," Drew declared, so intent on Slade that he missed the rush of color that rouged Lisa's cheeks. "I want to meet her."

"Not a chance." A rich, throaty laugh came from Slade, sending delicious shivers over Lisa's skin. "She's all mine and I intend to keep it that way."

When Slade disappeared into his office, Drew turned to Lisa, his eyes widening suggestively. "I get the feeling Cupid has struck. I swear I saw a whole quiver of arrows sticking out of his back. I don't know who's luckier, Slade or the girl."

A warm glow brightened the green of her eyes. "Both, I hope." It was almost a silent prayer that it could be so.

"Slade's caught the golden ring and you've turned me down for lunch," Drew shook his head. "I couldn't feel more left out if I was locked in a tower with the key thrown away."

"Your turn will come," Lisa offered.

"Yeah," he agreed glumly. "In the meantime, back to the 'blue Monday' salt mines!"

Drew had barely left Lisa's office when Slade walked back in from his, carrying a stack of papers and folders which he dumped on her desk.

"Here," he said. "You can file these this morning, Ann," he added, using her supposed given name unconsciously before turning to reenter his office.

"What about those contracts you said last Friday had to be typed first thing this morning?" Lisa reminded him.

He paused at his door, a recklessly indifferent look carved in his compelling features. "Forget it," he shrugged with uncharacteristic disregard for the contracts' importance. "Typing isn't one of your favorite things, and the day is too beautiful to be clouded by drudgery. The contracts can wait till another day."

Her mouth opened in disbelief, but Slade was already closing his door, not seeming to realize how unlike himself he was behaving. Yet it left Lisa in little doubt that he really loved her. With a happy smile, she turned toward the stack of filing to be done.

Black letters seemed to leap from the tab of one of the folders and her heart stopped beating for a split second. "Talmadge, Miriam," the letters spelled.

With shaking fingers, Lisa pulled the folder out of the stack, staring at it almost in dread. It was what she had been waiting for—to have Mitzi's file in her possession. She closed her eyes weakly, wishing it hadn't happened.

The telephone rang shrilly in her ears. Lisa hesitated, then quickly slipped the folder in a desk drawer and answered the phone. When she had transferred the call to Slade, she ignored the closed desk drawer. Picking up the stack of papers and folders, she carried them to the metal cabinets, setting them on top of one of them and systematically began filing them in the proper place.

She had not completely mastered the filing system. She still relied heavily on the guess and search method.
 
In consequence, an hour later there was one-third of the stack yet to be filed when Slade emerged from his office.

"I'll be gone for about twenty minutes if anyone's looking for me," he told her, still with that contented light burning in his dark eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Blackwell," she nodded.

With the closing of the door, she walked back to her desk, sat down in her chair and stared at the desk drawer. She clenched her hands tightly in her lap, then tore them apart to reach for the telephone, finding a reason to stall the inevitable for a few more minutes.

When she'd left the house that morning, she hadn't said where she was going nor how long she would be gone because she hadn't been sure she would come to the office. She dialed Mitzi's number, fabricating another story in her mind as to why she wouldn't be home until early evening.

"Talmadge residence." The call was answered on the second ring.

"Mildred, this is—" she began.

"Lisa, is that you?" It was Mitzi who was on the phone instead of the housekeeper.

"Yes, it is," Lisa rushed nervously. "I was cal—"

"I'm so glad you called," Mitzi interrupted her again. "Exactly sixteen minutes ago I typed those six magic letters."

"What?" she asked blankly.

Mitzi laughed. "'The End.' I've finished my new novel!"

"That's wonderful," Lisa agreed with forced enthusiasm.

"It's heavenly!" her aunt gushed. "And it calls for an immediate celebration. Where are you? I'll meet you for lunch at some frightfully swank restaurant."

Her heart sank. "Well, actually, Mitzi, I'm—"

"Oh, no, don't tell me you can't make it." Mitzi sounded genuinely crushed. "If you're with your two friends, bring them along. We'll make a party of it."

"No, no, they can't make it." Lisa rubbed her hand across her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache start to pound in her temples. She just couldn't disappoint her aunt. "But l can meet you at noon. Where would you like to celebrate?"

Mitzi suggested a restaurant that was fortunately within walking distance of the office, and Lisa agreed. Her aunt sounded quite jubilant when Lisa hung up, while she sighed dispiritedly. She opened the desk drawer to take out Mitzi's folder and Drew walked in. She closed, the drawer with guilty swiftness.

"Aha! I caught you doing your fingernails, didn't I?" he accused with mock anger. "If you don't have lunch with me, I'll tell Slade."

"You're out of luck. He isn't here,"
Lisa retorted with false brightness.

"Where did he go?" Drew grimaced.

"He didn't say. All he told me is that he would be back in twenty minutes." She shrugged, and rose from the desk to return to the filing.

"Well—" Drew breathed in deeply and shoved his hands in his pockets "—I guess I'll keep you company until he comes back." He wandered over to the cabinets where Lisa worked. "What are you doing?"

"Filing. Want to help?" she offered.

"No, thanks," he smiled, and eyed her lazily. "So you won't give in to my blackmail and have lunch with me?"

"No," Lisa repeated her earlier refusal.

"It's just as well, I suppose. Considering the benevolent mood Slade is in, he'd probably send you out for a manicure if I told him I'd caught you doing your nails. Not that they need doing." He caught one of her hands and refused to let it go. "Everything about you is beautiful, Ann, including your nails. No wonder you can't type," he said, touching the rounded length of one of her nails.

"Now you know my darkest secret." Lisa firmly pulled her hand from his grasp just as Slade returned.

"No holding hands during office hours," he scolded laughingly. "Her husband is going to show up here one day, Drew, and you're going to be in trouble."

The telephone rang, interrupting Drew's reply. Lisa started toward her desk, but Slade waved her away. "I'll answer it." He picked up the receiver. "Slade Blackwell," he identified himself briskly, and Lisa turned back to the cabinet, resisting the desire to gaze at him. "Hello, Mitzi, how are you?"

Lisa froze, the folder in her hand poised above the open cabinet drawer, her fingers tightening whitely as they gripped the stiff paper.

"It goes here," Drew whispered, indicating a spot between two file folders already in the drawer. She shoved the folder between them.

"You did?" Slade was speaking again. "Congratulations…Lunch today?"

He seemed to hesitate and Lisa pivoted quickly toward him: "You have an appointment for lunch, Mr. Blackwell," she reminded him, hoping she didn't sound as panicked as she felt.

Slade glanced at her briefly, then smiled suddenly at the mouthpiece. "She's meeting you at noon? Of course I'll be there, Mitzi."

"What about your appointment?" Lisa accused frantically when he hung up the telephone.

"Who was it with?" He glanced at the day's calendar with remarkable unconcern. "Art Jones? Call him up and change it to another day."

"She is going to be there." Drew stressed the feminine pronoun suggestively.

Slade flashed him a glittering look, his dark eyes sparkling with an inner brilliance. "I'm not inviting you along, Drew. It's bad enough that her aunt is going to be there, without having you, too."

"Nobody wants to eat lunch with me," Drew declared with mock exasperation.

"Too bad," Slade chuckled quietly. "Did you want to see me about something, Drew, or are you here just to give Ann a bad time?"

"No, there's something I want to discuss with you. That is, if you think you can concentrate on business for five minutes and forget your girl," was the teasing answer.

"Mr. Blackwell?" Lisa heard herself asking for his attention.

He turned, absently curious. "Yes?"

"I have a dental appointment over the noon hour," she lied. "Would it be all right if I left a little early?"

"Of course."

A few minutes past the appointment meeting time, Lisa walked into the restaurant. Her silver blond hair fell soft and loose about her shoulders; the red wig was tucked safely away in her bag. Her jacket was reversed to the green and black plaid side, not going well with the smoke blue sunglasses perched on her nose.

A movement at a far table caught her eye. Having seen Lisa enter the restaurant, Slade was rising to meet her. Lisa's steps faltered as he moved toward her. She wasn't
attempting to feign surprise at seeing him there. Her momentary uncertainty was caused by the panic racing through her veins. She managed to force it back and smile as they approached each other.

It wasn't really too difficult to smile warmly, not with his heart-disturbing look fanning the fires of her love. Slade halted, letting her cover the last few feet that would bring her to his side. Tall and darkly male, he stood before her, commanding all of her senses.

Unmindful of the other patrons in the restaurant, his dark head bent toward hers, stealing Lisa's breath in a hard kiss that was frustratingly brief for both of them. When he straightened, she swayed toward him and his arm curved around her shoulders to guide her toward the table.

"Hello." His low, belated greeting was husky and caressing. "You didn't expect to see me here, did you?"

"No, Mitzi didn't mention you would be joining us," Lisa could say truthfully.

The smoldering light in his eyes seemed to physically and lovingly touch each of her features, making her want to melt under the fiery glow. The possessive curve of his arm added to the boneless sensation.

"Sunday was the longest day of my life,"
Slade offered for her hearing alone.

"For me, too," Lisa admitted softly. They were nearly at the table where Mitzi waited, and Lisa had to tear her gaze from its adoring inspection of Slade's ruggedly handsome face. "Hello, Mitzi." But her voice still echoed the velvet quality induced by the magic of Slade's nearness. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"I didn't mind waiting, although I think Slade did." There was a knowing and pleased gleam in her aunt's eyes as she studied the two of them together.

Lisa flushed warmly as she sat in the chair Slade held out for her. Bending forward, Slade pushed her chair to the table, his face relatively close to her hair.

"Do you know something?" He took the chair to her left, a faintly bemused smile on his mouth. "You wear the same fragrance of perfume that my secretary does."