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Barely Mistaken
JENNIFER LABRECQUE


MéNAGE À TROIS?Librarian Olivia Cooper, daughter of the town drunk, will do almost anything to gain respectability–even marry wealthy, but oh-so-dull, Adam Rutledge. But the night of the local costume party, Adam's anything but dull. Suddenly her would-be fiancé is daring, dangerous…and very, very sexy. Only, Olivia never guesses that the right chemistry will lead her into the wrong bed.… Rebel Luke Rutledge thinks he's only saving Olivia from his brother's greedy machinations when he takes Adam's place at the party. But once Olivia is in his arms, Luke can't think at all! The attraction is immediate, the sex explosive…and the truth disastrous. Olivia might have wanted Adam–but she can't keep her hands off Luke. So what else can this bad boy do but seduce her into saying yes?









She felt exposed, yet safe. It was an intoxicating combination.


The sharp sound of crunching gravel nearby roused Olivia. She froze, acutely aware of her semidressed state. A woman’s voice cut through the night air. “It’s cold out here. Let’s go back inside.” A man murmured something intelligible and the sound of retreating footsteps left Olivia alone with Adam once again.

Olivia had no intention of squandering even a minute of this night. She smoothed her palms over Adam’s chest, and rising on tiptoe, she whispered in his ear, “I don’t think it’s cold at all. In fact, I think it’s very, very hot.”

“Honey, you’re killing me.” Adam’s low murmur stirred her hair and her feminine self-esteem.

Her thighs quivered and clenched in response to the need in his voice. She reached between them and touched him. “We could go to my house.”

“Are you propositioning me, Olivia?” Was that a hopeful note underlying his incredulity?

She knew she’d stepped—make that leapt—beyond her self-imposed boundaries. But it was just for one night. Hopefully one incredible night. She drew a fortifying breath. “Yes, I believe I am.”

“Thank God,” he whispered roughly, just before he crushed her lips with his.


Dear Reader,

I’ve had the time of my life writing my first book for Temptation. Especially since it offered me the chance to combine two of my favorite things—sizzling sensuality and humor. After all, it’s not every day a girl finds herself in the wrong bed. Or, in this case, the right bed. With the wrong brother. Or is he?

Olivia Cooper, daughter of the town drunk, has spent a lifetime trying to rise above her inherited reputation. She’s carved a respectable niche for herself as the local librarian and head of the literacy council. And as long as she manages to control her occasional reckless impulses, all is right with her world. But not for long….

Luke Rutledge is the black sheep of his family and the local bad boy. As a rule, the lofty Rutledges don’t sport earrings or tattoos, and they definitely don’t ride around on a Harley. Except for Luke, that is…. So when Olivia finds herself having the best sex of her life with the resident rebel, it’s the last place she should be. And it’s exactly where her wild side urges her to go—again and again!

I hope you enjoy Luke and Olivia’s story. I sure enjoyed writing it and I’d love to know what you think. You can write to me at: P.O. Box 801068, Acworth, GA 30101. And don’t forget to look for my next book, Barely Decent, coming out in November.

Enjoy,

Jennifer LaBrecque




Books by Jennifer LaBrecque


HARLEQUIN DUETS

28—ANDREW IN EXCESS

52—KIDS + COPS = CHAOS

64—JINGLE BELL BRIDE?


Barely Mistaken

Jennifer LaBrecque






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


In tribute to all the victims of the September 11th massacre at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and the empty field in the Pennsylvania countryside. We continue to laugh and love in honor of your memory, which is the greatest refutation of terrorism known to man.




Contents


Prologue (#ub0dde615-4984-5eca-a222-7956b3c13544)

Chapter 1 (#u614c4568-c524-5012-ae6d-bfa640eadaaf)

Chapter 2 (#udb4e096a-df81-5c33-9b50-75cdde096d00)

Chapter 3 (#u780707e3-c4d0-5cd9-9e1f-a6a96771eaea)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue


OLIVIA SHIFTED on the cold concrete bleacher, and closed her eyes in bliss. Snuggling deeper into a sweater delivered earlier in the week by the church charity group, she absorbed the moment. The bite of a brisk autumn night. The rallying charge of the marching band overlaid by the cheerleaders’ chant. The glare of lights illuminating the field in an otherwise dark night. The smell of popcorn, hot dogs, and the occasional waft of hot cocoa. The collective surge of excitement in the stands and on the field.

“Earth to Olivia.”

She blinked her eyes open to find her best friend Beth’s freckled hand waving in front of her face. “I love football games.”

Beth sighed and dreamily eyed the second string quarterback parked on the sidelines. “Yeah. Doesn’t Chuck Lamont look cute in his uniform?”

Olivia rolled her eyes and grinned. The question was purely rhetorical. Beth didn’t expect an answer.

A frisson of awareness tingled against the back of her neck—the feeling that someone was looking at her. She turned her head. A rowdy group hovered at the edge of the bleachers, drawing several disapproving glares from parents in the booster section. Her gaze skidded to a stop as it locked into the bright blue eyes of Luke Rutledge who stood slightly apart from his crowd. Tough. Wild. Older. Her stomach flip-flopped and her pulse ran amok, even as a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. He quirked one corner of his mouth in a smile.

If she absolutely didn’t know better, she might, for one wild flight of fancy, think one of the sexiest bad boys in the senior class was flirting with her mousy, bookworm self. She attempted to smile back. Her awkwardness produced something much closer to a grimace.

Burning with self-consciousness and an attraction much more intense than the benign crush she’d had on Barry Elwell last year, she glanced away before she made a total fool of herself.

What had seemed like minutes must have only been seconds. Beth remained fixated on second-string Chuck Lamont. Olivia peeked from beneath lowered lashes at Luke. He stood, laughing with his friends, oblivious to her presence. What if some of them had seen her mooning at him? Was that why they were laughing? She shivered into her sweater. Forget it. She read too many books and possessed too much imagination.

“So, who wants the scoop?” Amy Murdoch’s voice drifted two rows back to Olivia and Beth. Lucy Jacobs and Melissa Bowers, sitting on either side of Amy, squealed their excitement.

Beth screwed up her face, imitating them. “They sound like greased pigs in a race,” she muttered to Olivia.

Grateful to concentrate on something other than her imaginary exchange with Luke, Olivia snickered. “Yeah. Kind of.” Amy, Lucy and Melissa were the reigning queens of sophomore cool. You only had to ask them.

“Tammy Cooper…health department…birth control pills…” Even though Amy lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level, bits and pieces drifted up to them. Lucy and Melissa visibly gasped.

“…trashy…”

“…in her blood…their mother ran…another man…”

“…Olivia…honor society…same way…born that way.”

Olivia blinked hard to stem the tears stinging her eyelids, her flesh crawling with humiliation. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to fill in the blanks between the snatches of conversation.

Driven to escape, Olivia surged to her feet.

“Bitches,” Beth muttered, eyeing her cup of steaming cocoa and their well-groomed tittering backs with intent. “Meet me in the bathroom. I’ve got business to take care of.”

Olivia stumbled off the bleachers and dashed behind them, desperate to find a dark place to hide. She forced air into her lungs in great shuddering breaths. The words chased around in her head, searing her with their poison. …born that way…Olivia…same way. She huddled in the dark, against the cold concrete.

Olivia looked up at a movement. Luke Rutledge stepped into the shadows with her. Olivia’s heart hammered. She dashed at the trickle of tears behind her glasses with her gloved fingers.

“Olivia? Are you okay?” His big hands cupped her shoulders. A tremor of recognition rippled through her. She hadn’t imagined the look they’d shared earlier.

“I’m fine.” Her voice squeaked out. She ought to feel threatened. Luke stood six feet tall with broad shoulders and it was dark beneath the bleachers. Instead, he seemed genuinely concerned, almost comforting—totally at odds with his bad boy image.

“You’re sure?” He rubbed small circles against her shoulders with his gloved hands. Even through the layers of gloves, coats and sweaters, his touch left her tingling in a way she’d never felt before.

She shoved her glasses more firmly onto her nose. “Really. I’m okay.” Her breath lodged in her throat. She’d never realized how a boy smelled up close. Different than girls. Interesting. Exciting.

“Good.” Other girls might’ve seen it coming, but surprise rooted her to the spot when he pulled her closer and kissed her. She’d dreamed about kisses. She’d read about kisses.

None of it had prepared her for the real thing. His mouth pressed against hers, hot and hard. She leaned into him and kissed him back, giving in to the spontaneous need flashing through her.

…born that way…Olivia…same way. They couldn’t be right, could they? But this was exactly how girls from the wrong side of the tracks behaved. Was that why he’d followed her? Kissed her? She was easy? Trashy?

Horrified, she wrenched away from Luke. She ran out of the shadows as fast as her trembling legs carried her.

She was not that way. She wasn’t and she’d prove it. To them. To him. And to herself.




1


Thirteen years later…

“YOU’LL BE THE BELLE of the ball tonight,” Beth cajoled as she brandished the package of hair color at Olivia.

Olivia paused in the middle of pressing her dress for the costume ball and sprayed extra starch on a pleat that refused to cooperate.

“I’m not concerned with being the belle of the ball,” she argued. “I’m quite fond of my mousy brown hair, thank you. Why would I want to trade it in for late-blooming, tramp-in-training red?”

Beth stretched out on Olivia’s four-poster Rice-carved bed. “You couldn’t look like a tramp-in-training if you tried. Trust me. But you could try shucking the prude disguise. You’d be a knockout. A little hair color, some contact lenses and dressing as if you really are twenty-nine instead of sixty-five.”

Flamboyant, outgoing Beth just didn’t get it. Olivia wasn’t interested in being a knockout—not that she even considered herself KO material. Beth was a force of nature. Olivia was a rock. Olivia liked her quartz status.

She rolled her eyes at Beth and picked up the long-standing argument. “My eyes are allergic to contacts, as you very well know.” She mentally reviewed her wardrobe of conservative skirts and blouses. “And I dress like a twenty-nine-year-old librarian with good taste—”

“Maybe you should borrow something from Tammy.”

“Maybe when pigs fly.” Her older sister maintained an inverse fashion philosophy—the least amount of clothes showing the most amount of flesh. And Tammy had a bountiful amount of flesh up top. Olivia shook her head as she peered down at her relatively flat chest. “Can you imagine these in one of Tammy’s halter tops? Even if I dared to bare, there’s nothing there. I’d have enough extra material to make a skirt.” Not to mention she’d set every tongue in town wagging.

Beth snickered. “Okay. You’ve got a point. But at least you’ll skip the sag factor. You’ll still be Ms. Perky Boobs at sixty when Tammy’s playing soccer with hers. Now about this color…”

Olivia pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose and peered across the ironing board at the hair-color model. She’d invested a lot of thought and care into cultivating a conservative, tasteful “look.” Olivia always carried with her the sense that everyone in town was watching—waiting for her to slip up, to do or say something inappropriate.

For the span of a heartbeat, a shadow of restless longing tempted her. And then it passed. She shook her head. “Forget it. I’m not going to look tacky or cheap. Adam wants to discuss something important tonight.”

The thought brought an involuntary smile to her face. Adam had begun to affect her that way.

“What?” Beth scowled in suspicion.

Beth’s scowl dampened her good mood. “I don’t know, but it sounded important.”

“You’ve been dating a month, maybe he’s gonna put the move on you. Sex is always important to men. Right up there with breathing, eating and television.” Beth sighed and placed the hair color box on the nightstand.

“Beth, you’ve got the gutter mind.”

“What’s gutter about that? You’ve been out half a dozen times. He’s kissed you, hasn’t he?”

“You know he has.” Twice to be precise—both times their kiss had proved a pleasant, perfunctory end to their evening. At first, she’d merely considered Adam a friend—a very attractive, very influential friend. Lately, their relationship had taken a more intimate turn. However, it wasn’t that intimate, yet. “He’s mentioned his grandmother’s birthday several times. I think he’s going to invite me to the party. It seems more likely than sex.” Olivia examined the pressed dress. Each pleat lined up in perfect, starched order. “That looks good.”

She turned off the iron and hung up her dress. The dark purple complemented her pale skin and dark hair. At least that was the salesclerk’s opinion.

“Hmm.” Beth cast a considering eye over the floor-length, lady-in-waiting gown. “Almost as stiff and upstanding as Adam. I’m sure he’ll approve.”

Olivia moved the dress to the back of the door and sat on the opposite end of the bed, crossing her legs at the ankles. Hortense jumped up and settled her immense kitty weight across Olivia’s lap. Olivia administered the obligatory scratch behind the ears and turned her attention back to Beth. Usually, Beth was brutally frank—it was one of the things she admired about her long-standing friend—but, for weeks now she’d been beating around the bush, dropping snide comments. “If you don’t like him, why don’t you just say so?”

“I don’t like him.”

Hortense seconded the opinion with a short meow.

Ask and ye shall receive. “Why?”

Beth held up a freckled finger. “He’s supercilious.” She held up another. “He’s a snob.” A third finger joined the first two. “And he thinks he’s all that.”

Based on Beth’s earlier comments, Olivia had known her friend wasn’t wild about Adam, but he didn’t deserve this. “That’s not fair. He’s been a tremendous help in raising money for the new addition to the library. And he’s responsible for my invitation to the costume ball at the country club tonight. I should manage to raise another couple of hundred.” And I think he could be The One. Now wasn’t the time to break that particular news.

Beth snapped her fingers. “That’s it. You’re besotted ’cause he helped you fund-raise. You’d like Freddie Krueger if he helped you with your library.”

“You make me sound like the village idiot. It’s true, I appreciate Adam’s help with the library. Do you know what a difference that new kids’ section is going to make—”

“Sure I do, ’cause you’ve told me.” Beth cut her off before she could really wind up on her favorite topic. “Okay, how about this? I caught him admiring his reflection in his office window when I went to make the deposit at the bank yesterday.” Beth wrinkled her entire face in disgust.

“So?” Olivia heard the defensive note in her own voice.

“He was so pleased with himself. I bet he got a stiffy.”

“What?” Even irrepressible Beth hadn’t just uttered what Olivia thought she had. Had she?

Beth tossed her a defiant look. “You heard me, girlfriend. A stiffy. A woody. A boner. Take your pick.”

Ewww. She could live without this level of bluntness. “If you’re going to be disgusting, I’m not listening.”

Beth threw up her hands in surrender. “You’re warped, Olivia.”

Amusement edged out insult. “That’s it. My life has reached an all-time low when you call me warped.”

“You’re dating the guy, and you think his stiffy is disgusting.”

“No. You talking about it is disgusting. He was probably checking his tie or something.” Olivia had noticed him watching himself in the mirror once when they were out to dinner. “He’s very particular about his appearance.” She shifted Hortense to a spot on the bed beside her and plucked the new bottle of nail polish off her nightstand. A lifetime of insecurities reared their ugly heads. “I wonder sometimes why he goes out with me.”

Olivia began to paint her toenails with meticulous care.

“Are you nuts? You’re smart, funny, successful, attractive—in a severely understated kind of way. And you’re ten times the person he is.”

She paused and raised a brow in Beth’s direction. Beth was just a wee bit prone to exaggeration when she climbed on a soapbox. Olivia couldn’t resist teasing her. “Ten times? Really?”

Beth scowled at her. “Who was the valedictorian of our graduating class?”

Olivia shrugged and resumed painting her nails. “Who never had a date to the Senior Prom?”

“Who started the local literacy drive?” Beth fired back at her.

“Who was asked out in high school by Deke Richards because he thought her brother could sneak him some beer?”

“Olivia, you’ve got to move past this ‘wrong side of the tracks’ label you’ve given yourself.”

“Come on, Beth. My family provides plenty of fodder for the gossip mill. And I didn’t have to label myself. My Daughter-of-the-Town-Drunk title was inherited.” Along with the faint wash of shame so familiar she wore it like a second skin. Caste systems thrived in small towns.

At times she craved the anonymity and the freedom of living where her background didn’t define her. But leaving seemed tantamount to conceding defeat—accepting her title and slinking away in shame. No, she’d vowed long ago to stay and prove a Cooper could contribute more to the community than bail money.

Beth shared a rueful grimace and crossed her legs Indian style. “Speaking of your family, I heard Marty got hauled in night before last for drunk-and-disorderly.”

Olivia sighed in resignation. “Yep. That’s my brother, upholding the Cooper family tradition in jail. They even put him in Daddy’s old cell. Daddy passed down his spot in the tank.” She rolled her eyes. “It does a gal proud.”

“And you bailed him out.”

“Of course I did. And then I took him home to Darlene and dared her to let him out of the house again.” Her sister-in-law had promised to keep her brother, king of the Wild Turkey, home. She shook her head. “Marty’s got a good heart and a good mind, when he isn’t pickled. But I swear, he spends half of his life drunk and the other half sobering up.”

“What about Tammy? Did she really leave Earl for Tim? That girl changes husbands almost as often as I change my underwear.”

Olivia shrugged, out of touch with her sister’s latest antics. Tammy often made unwise decisions, in Olivia’s opinion. Had she left her third husband for his best friend? “I don’t know. Likely as not. She wouldn’t tell me because she knows I consider that a crazy way to live.”

“You, Olivia, are living proof that gene mutation exists. I’d even theorize adoption, but you look like them. Even if you don’t act like them. I’ve never seen one family member so different from the rest.”

Olivia’s mother swore she’d known her youngest was different from the moment she’d popped out. While she’d named her two other children after country music stars Tammy Wynette and Marty Robbins, her third child didn’t seem like a Loretta or Tanya or even Patsy. Hence, she’d named her youngest Olivia, in honor of one of her favorite soap stars. Olivia still clearly recalled her mother spending hours in front of the TV with her soap operas. Of course that was before Martha Rae Watson Cooper abandoned her family in search of greener pastures. Olivia had neither seen nor heard from her mother in twenty-three years.

God knows, Olivia loved the only family she had left—Pops, Marty and Tammy—but they exasperated her. Frustrated her. She’d spent a lifetime trying to rise above her birthright as the white-trash daughter of the town drunk. She often resented the Cooper escapades that were the talk of the town.

Was she so different from them? Every once in a while she gave in to impulse and blew off steam—a skydiving excursion, cold-cocking slimy Bennie Krepps when he tormented a stray cat, attending Willette Tuttle’s bachelorette party at a male strip club, a naked midnight dance in a soft summer rain in the privacy of her backyard. If she ever really loosened the tight rein she held herself on, would she make the same poor decisions as the rest of her family?

Maybe she was a shallow person, maybe even a bad person, but the fact that a respected pillar of the community had chosen to date her carried its own brand of validation.

Olivia glanced around her bedroom. Like the rest of her house, it was small, but tastefully furnished. She’d hated the shack she’d grown up in, that her father still lived in. Even as a child, she’d clipped magazine photos of quietly elegant rooms, determined to have a place like that one day, determined to have a life like that one day. Adam, vice president of his family’s bank, fit the life she wanted.

She wasn’t a social climber. Not by a long shot. It wasn’t about fancy cars or diamonds. No, Adam offered the respectability she so craved.

Olivia recapped the nail polish and waved her feet in the air to dry her toenails. “I’m sorry you don’t like Adam. We’re well-suited.”

“Humph.” Beth snorted. “If it were me, I’d be barking up the other side of that family tree. Give me Luke over Adam any day. Talk about another genetic curveball. I’ve never seen two brothers who looked so much alike but were so different.”

“No kidding.” Olivia suppressed a faint shudder. Luke, the black sheep of the Rutledge family, disquieted her. Worse, he shook her up. Mercifully, he lived in the next county over. He and Adam moved in different circles. And although Luke’s company had won the contract for the new library wing, he was out of state, so his partner was heading up the project.

“What’ve you got against poor Luke? What’d he ever do to you?” Beth turned the tables on her.

Memory of “poor” Luke’s kiss from thirteen years ago assaulted her. Had he acted on a dare? A joke? She still had no clue as to why he’d kissed her. All she’d known was that kiss proved true every unkind word she’d overheard between Amy, Lucy and Melissa. She’d run as if Beelzebub himself—actually Luke wasn’t far off in her book—had cornered her. She’d never ever mentioned it to anyone. And she wasn’t about to confess now. That kiss had haunted her for years. More than once she’d dreamed of Luke and that kiss, only to awaken in the grip of restless discontent.

“Luke’s never done anything to me. He’s just not my type.” A shiver chased down her spine. Damnation. Simply speaking his name set her nerves on edge.

Olivia jumped off the bed and walked over to the dresser, the hardwood floor cool beneath her bare feet. She shifted a stack of mail off her jewelry box and opened it to search for a pair of earrings for the evening. “I can’t understand someone born into privilege and opportunity, squandering it by thumbing their nose.” She plucked out a pair of amethyst stones in a dangling filigree setting from among the jumble of earrings and held them up.

Beth nodded her approval and went back to the subject of Luke. “Luke’s a rebel, all right. I think he was born with a streak of wild in him. The thing about those bad-ass boys, when they finally settle down, they make good husbands. Guess it’s ’cause they’ve sown all those wild oats.” Beth shook her head, her eyes dancing with devilment. “And I’d say Luke’s almost sown himself out. If I hadn’t already invested five years of marriage in Chuck and almost had him trained…”

Olivia laughed, eager to latch on to a topic other than Luke Rutledge. “Yuh-huh. You are such big talk. Chuck is a saint.” Well, perhaps Beth’s husband wasn’t a saint, but he was a very nice man, which was close to one and the same these days. “Not to mention the father of your child.”

Beth, nine weeks pregnant, grinned all over herself while she rubbed her tummy. “Well, there is that little matter.”

Olivia pulled out the satin-and-lace merry widow she’d mail-ordered on a whim. She unfolded the undergarment and held it up in front of Beth.

“Ooooeeee. Adam is a lucky man.” She plucked the sexy lingerie from Olivia and turned it one way and then another. “Hot. Definitely very hot. You go, baby.”

“You don’t think it’s too…” Olivia pursed her lips and pretended to evaluate the underwear “…let’s see, how did you describe my wardrobe earlier…oh, yes, prudish?” Actually, she still couldn’t quite see herself in such a sexy getup.

“This,” Beth dangled the satin and lace from one finger, “is a start. A step in the right direction.”

“A start? A step? How about a big flying leap?” Compared to her usual white cotton briefs and the occasional splurge for matching bra and panties, buying this qualified as a veritable walk on the wild side. She felt a little excited and a whole lot naughty just owning such a garment.

“We’ll talk flying leaps when you go crotchless.” Beth wagged her brows.

“Crotchless?” she squeaked. Olivia imagined herself stretched out on her bed next to Adam, the sheets folded back neatly. In her mind’s eye, Adam’s expression registered disgust rather than excitement when he noted her crotchless state. “I don’t think so. This is plenty wild for me.” Olivia toed the line between seductive and trashy, careful not to cross it.

“You’ve got the right idea in mind. But it seems a shame to waste this on Adam.”

Olivia opened her mouth to protest that Adam wouldn’t be viewing her underwear.

Beth, who always had to have the last word, laughed and cut her off. “Just kidding. I know you’re going to tell me he won’t see your underwear.”

Her sense of humor surfaced. Olivia smiled a secretive smile, sure to make Beth nuts. Also, just to counteract her predictability.

Worked like a charm. Beth popped off the bed like a spring-loaded action figure. “Are you holding out on me?”

Olivia laughed. “No. It’s just a feeling I have.”

“It could be gas.”

“Maybe it’s love.” She made a joke of it, in light of Beth’s earlier comments. But, just maybe she was on to something. Her feelings had developed into something more than friendship, and Adam had definitely sent similar signals. What kind of husband would he make?

“It’s more likely gas. You better go take your shower if you want me to help with the hair and makeup. What time is Adam coming by for you?”

“I’m meeting him at the country club around eight-thirty. I need to check on Pops before I go, and there’s no need to drag Adam out there with me.”

“Mr. High and Mighty too good to go out to the farm with you?” Beth asked, sniffing.

“No. He’s been before. And he was very nice.” Perhaps he’d laughed a bit too heartily, his air faintly patronizing, but her father was a far cry from his. Two beers shy of polishing off a twelve-pack, Pops had been feeling no pain as he’d subjected Adam to the farm tour in his rundown pickup. Actually, Adam had requested the tour. Pops maintained, drunk or sober, that it didn’t matter how much money was sitting in the bank or buried in the backyard, if a man owned land, he was wealthy beyond compare. Even if the screen door was held together with duct tape. She hadn’t invited Adam out again.

“He has a meeting late this afternoon. Something to do with policies regarding special deposits. He may be running a little late to the party.”

Beth shoved her toward the bathroom. “So will you, if we don’t get you ready. And don’t forget to shave your legs!”

LUKE RUTLEDGE PULLED INTO the garage next to the stables and killed the engine. He slid out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door. His parents’ his-’n’-her matching Cadillacs, his brother’s late-model BMW and Luke’s old pickup sporting the Rutledge & Klegman Construction logo along with more than a few dings and dents. Which one of these did not belong? He grinned at the joke only he found funny.

A pirate costume hanging in the back of Adam’s car caught his eye. His brother as a pirate? He didn’t think so. Adam was definitely the starched chinos and tasseled loafers type.

Luke crossed the manicured lawn of River Oaks to the back of the Greek Revival mansion. The return of the prodigal son to his ancestral home. He knew exactly how his father regarded him. The black sheep once again darkening the door.

He’d displayed a knack for finding trouble early on. At what age had he finally figured out that not everyone fell prey to the wildness that seized him at times? He couldn’t put an exact memory to the time he realized he was different from the rest of his family. But lines had become clearly drawn about the time he’d discovered they primarily cared about money and position and they figured out he didn’t give a damn what people thought.

Rutledges didn’t ride big, black motorcycles, sport tattoos, wear an earring, or make a living at something as menial as manual labor. It didn’t make a rat’s ass difference he’d earned a civil engineering degree, owned his own construction firm, and had more money sitting in the Colther Community Bank than he’d ever need. He’d tainted his success when he’d gone into business with Dave Klegman, a transplanted New Yorker.

Nope. Luke didn’t look like a Southern gentleman. He didn’t conduct himself like a Southern gentleman. He didn’t judge people by their last name or the amount of money they did or didn’t have. Luke didn’t measure up to Rutledge standards.

He paused at the mudroom that led to the kitchen and checked the thick soles of his scuffed work boots. Ruth would have a piece of him if he tracked mud in on her floors.

The familiar noise from the kitchen brought a smile to his face. Thunk-rolllll, thunk-rollll, thunkrollll. Ruth rolling out piecrust. An assortment of smells wafted out on the early evening air, evoking earlier years as clearly as a photo album. Chicken and dumplings, blackberry cobbler, crisp pickles, pungent turnip greens—some of his better boyhood memories. Ruth had cooked and run the house at River Oaks since before he’d been born.

Luke stepped into the kitchen. Ruth paused in midroll, a smile joining the other creases in her worn face. “Bless my soul, you’re a sight for sore eyes. We haven’t seen you in almost two months.”

“Been over in Mississippi on a big job for the last six weeks. We wrapped it up early.”

“Well, it’s good to have you home.” She shook her rolling pin in his direction. “Did you check your boots?”

“Clean as a whistle. And you’re still as pretty as a picture.” Luke wrapped an arm as far around her ample frame as possible and kissed her weathered cheek. Although her salt-and-pepper hair had lost its pepper and was a snowy white, Ruth’s blue eyes remained sharp. He glanced at the mountain of food on the sideboard. “Getting ready for Grandma Pearl’s big birthday bash tomorrow?”

“I’ve been cooking for three days now.” She leveled a stern gaze his way. “You are coming, aren’t you?”

“Would I miss a chance to be held close to the family bosom? Uncle Jack’ll be three sheets to the wind.” Uncle Jack managed to get wasted at every family function and generally invite disgrace. Luke liked the old reprobate. He and Uncle Jack shared a penchant for trouble. “And Grandma’ll be thumping her cane and threatening to disinherit everyone. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

His stomach issued a loud growl. “Any chance of me getting some of those leftover chicken and dumplings?”

“Guess you should’ve showed up at lunch like decent folk and then you could’ve had some.” Despite her fussing, Ruth spooned up a generous portion.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation by doing anything decent folks might.” He accepted a bowl of homemade heaven with a grin. “Actually, I was double-checking the supply list for the library’s new addition. Our crew starts work on Monday.”

“Olivia’s mighty excited. But then she’s worked real hard to raise the money.” Ruth and Olivia Cooper’s father claimed distant kin. Ruth resumed rolling her crusts.

“She must’ve busted her…butt. It’s a nice addition. A new ivory tower for her to lock herself away in her library castle. How is Lady Olivia? It’s been years since I’ve seen her.” Olivia. Just speaking her name knotted his gut. He’d known thirteen years ago, she was far too good for him. When she’d pulled away and run from him as if he’d tainted her, he’d vowed to stay away. He could live without that kind of rejection. Especially when so many other girls had been willing. He’d talked to the assistant librarian earlier today, but Olivia, with her solemn gray eyes and touch-me-not air, had been conspicuously absent.

Ruth lowered surprisingly delicate brows in her weathered face. “You’d be a far sight better off with someone like Olivia than those trashy women you’re too ashamed to bring home to meet your mama.”

Luke shrugged off Ruth’s rebuke as he spooned in a mouthful of dumplings. So, he liked women that ran as fast as his motorcycle. He wasn’t ashamed, just never interested or involved enough to bring them home to meet his mother. “I believe your dumplings get better every time I eat them.”

“Changing the subject ain’t gonna change the fact that you ought to stop chasing tramps.”

“Should I chase the fair Olivia?” He laughed but somehow the idea didn’t sound as ridiculous as it should have.

“Nope.” Ruth plunked the rolling pin down on the counter. “Adam beat you to it. They’ve been seeing one another.” She sniffed in apparent disapproval.

Startled, Luke paused, his spoon in midair, his entire body taut with surprise and a gut full of instinctive protest. “Olivia and Adam?” He wasn’t a snob, but his family sure as hell was—it was one of the major differences that formed the chasm separating them. “Dating? When did this happen?”

“A little over a month and a half. Maybe two.”

“About the time I headed to Mississippi.”

“Um-hmm.” Ruth cut out the crusts with practiced economy and draped them over two pie plates mounded high with apples and cinnamon. Her nimble fingers tucked and shaped the pastry. “Can you imagine?”

Luke put the bowl on the counter, his appetite gone. Actually he could and that was the problem. Apparently Olivia hadn’t run like hell when respectable Adam kissed her. Thirteen years and her horrified flight from him still rankled. Thirteen years and he still remembered the sweet innocence of her lips, her brief flare of passion. “Can’t be very serious. They haven’t been seeing each other that long.”

Ruth slid the pies into the oven and straightened, sending him a dark look. “How long do you think it takes?”

For what? hovered on the tip of his tongue before he thought better of it. Never mind. It wasn’t his business and he really didn’t give a damn, even though the idea of Adam and Olivia nettled him, like a splinter beneath his skin.

Luke shoved away from the counter without comment. “I stopped by to see Mother. Any idea where she is?”

“Mrs. Rutledge headed down to the river. She’s been painting late in the afternoons. The Colonel’s in his study.”

They both knew she’d added his father’s whereabouts, not so Luke could seek him out, but as a warning. His mother might not understand him, but she loved him fiercely. The same could not be said of his father. “Thanks, Ruth. Great chicken and dumplings, as usual.”

“I’ve never known you to leave more than a bite of ’em in a bowl before.” A hint of speculation glimmered in her eyes. “I’ll save them for you.”

Without comment, Luke let himself out the back door of the kitchen and headed for the path that skirted the terrace and led downhill to the muddy banks of the Cohutta River. He pulled out a thin cheroot and paused beneath the broad arms of a river oak to light it.

“How much longer will you have to see that Cooper girl?” His father’s voice carried clearly from the open French doors of his study. Luke stilled the lighter, the unlit cheroot clenched in his teeth. Even though he couldn’t see the Colonel, the disdain in his voice clearly painted the sneer on his face.

“Only a little longer. She’s an ice princess, but she’ll come around. I’ll put a ring on her finger if I have to.” Adam laughed in derision.

People swore Adam and Luke sounded alike. His own mother often couldn’t tell them apart on the phone. Luke hoped he didn’t sound like a pompous ass. And he shouldn’t be so damn glad to hear Adam refer to Olivia as an ice princess. She might not run in the other direction when Adam kissed her, but it also sounded as if Adam hadn’t tapped into the passion Luke knew simmered beneath her surface.

“Good God, I hope it doesn’t come to that. But do what you have to do. There’s a lot at stake here.”

Well, well, well. Adam was dating Olivia because she could help him somehow? Luke rubbed his jaw.

“At the party tonight, I’ll invite her to Grandmother’s birthday celebration.”

What strings could she pull for a powerful Rutledge? Whatever was going on, it didn’t bode well for Olivia.

Luke leaned against the rough bark of the tree and squelched his inkling of protectiveness. Olivia was a big girl. She could take care of herself. Luke was nobody’s hero and it’d stay that way. He’d hate to ruin his reputation.

“What about—” The shrill of the phone, his father’s private business line, masked the name. “—Will he be there?”

Adam’s “Yes” coincided with another ring of the phone.

His father answered, held a brief conversation and hung up. “That was Boswell. You need to meet with his man tonight.”

“But what about the party? I’ve already got a pirate costume and everything.” The outfit in the car.

“Forget the party. You can get the final bid information later. Meeting Boswell’s man is more important.”

Boswell? Had he heard that name before? This was getting more interesting by the minute.

“But that’s a three-hour drive. I won’t get back here until two in the morning.”

“Put a sock in it, son. We’re so close now, I can smell the money. Take the farm truck. Your car draws too much attention and you don’t want that.”

Luke shook his head in disgust. Adam had always been something of a bootlicker, but when had he so thoroughly become his father’s puppet?

“Of all the rotten timing. I spent a lot of money on my pirate outfit.” Maybe Adam would like some cheese to go with that whine.

“Shut up about your pirate costume. Dress up in the goddamned thing when you get back home,” the Colonel snapped. “You’ve got to leave within the hour. Meet me back here and I’ll have the money ready.”

Inside, a door opened and closed.

Luke pushed away from the oak and backtracked to the garage. He’d see his mother tomorrow at Grandma Pearl’s party. What the hell were his brother and father up to? Walking in and demanding answers would get him nowhere. Who, other than Olivia, had Adam planned to meet tonight at the party and what information did he need? And why would Adam willingly engage himself to a woman he referred to as an “ice princess”?

And what difference did any of it make? He could just walk away and pretend he’d never overheard that particular conversation. He’d head back home. Maybe stop off at Cecil’s Bar and Grill and throw some darts.

A full moon waited, heavy and ripe in the eastern sky, even as the sun edged toward the horizon. A familiar restlessness gripped him. He stepped into the cool dark of the garage and flipped on the lights.

Glimmering metal caught his eye. The scabbard housing the sword in Adam’s back seat, part of the pirate costume. Is this how pirates felt. Edgy? Restless? Seeking a treasure or excitement? Unsure of what they wanted, but knowing they wanted something? He’d felt this way all of his life. And it usually got him in trouble.

The eyepatch beckoned him. The scabbard flashed her beguiling jewels. The dark wig was about the same length as his own shoulder-length hair. They entreated him, calling to the always-lurking wildness in his soul. A slow smile edged his mouth as an idea took hold.

The car. The costume. The country club. The companion. Opportunity knocked and Luke answered. Could he pull it off? He and Adam sounded alike, and they were about the same build. Luke was darker than Adam, but with low lighting and a costume, if he could figure out who the mystery contact was, he might get some answers. Perhaps a dance or two with Olivia. Then, if he dropped some information her way, it shouldn’t be misconstrued as some misguided attempt at chivalry. It would constitute a leveling of the playing field.

Why the hell not? What could be more befitting of a pirate? And what could go wrong in a couple of hours out of one night?




2


“OLIVIA? OLIVIA COOPER? Is that you?”

Olivia forced herself not to squint, although she couldn’t see. Against her better judgment, she had surrendered to folly and abandoned her tortoiseshell specs in her car. The ballroom’s lighting consisted primarily of candles. She could barely see. Actually, being half blind lent her Dutch courage. She’d mixed and mingled and already raised more money for her beloved library expansion.

The man stepped close enough for her to identify him.

“Hi, Jeff.” An ambitious manager at Adam’s bank who resembled a rodent, Jeff looked much better as an obscure blur.

“Where’s Adam tonight?” he asked, eager for a suck-up opportunity, no doubt.

Blurred vision or not, she still saw Jeff ogling her cleavage. Olivia forced herself not to check herself out as well. Amazing. She actually had cleavage. That merry widow had done impressive things to her small breasts. They not only appeared fuller, they felt fuller as they strained against what had once been a modest neckline. The bra’s stiff lace teased her nipples. Further emboldened by a cat’s-eye mask and her upswept hair, Olivia felt sexy and terribly provocative. It was a heady sensation.

“Adam? He had a meeting late this afternoon and thought it might run late.” The party was in full swing and still no Adam. She bit back her disappointment.

“When you see him, tell him I’m looking for him.” With a final glance at her chest, Jeff took off to suck up to someone else.

Outwardly, she hoped she appeared her usual calm, composed self. Inside she was strung as tight as a crossbow. Good thing she didn’t drink, or she’d be tempted to knock back a few shots of Marty’s Wild Turkey. Instead, she slipped through a side door and stepped out into the crisp autumn night. The moon, a golden orb swollen with promise, hung suspended above the semi-dressed branches of water oaks and pines.

Olivia steadied herself against the rail of the wraparound porch. How many times had she listened to other girls chatter about their dates at country club soirees? Now she was one of them. Or she would be once Adam arrived.

As if her thoughts had conjured him up, headlights flashed down the azalea-lined driveway. Olivia recognized the hum of the BMW’s engine. A sudden case of nerves had her tucking hairpins more securely and plucking at her mask. What would Adam think of her costume?

She watched as he pulled up and relinquished his car to the club’s valet. Her breath caught in her throat, as her pulse pounded.

Wow! Blurred vision or not, there was no denying the pirate outfit tripled Adam’s sex appeal. Was it the eye-patch or the Errol Flynn shirt or the wig and tight breeches that lent a sexy swagger to his stride? Something primitive awakened and responded to his saunter. For one brief, disruptive second Luke Rutledge came to mind—doubtless conjured up by Beth’s earlier chatter. She brushed the thought of him away, much as she might a pesky mosquito. Luke was a pompous ass.

Instead she concentrated on Adam.

She gathered her wits as he climbed the broad stairs. “Adam,” she called to him, her voice a disgusting squeak. “Adam,” she tried again, this time sounding more like herself instead of a mouse on steroids.

After the slightest hesitation, he turned in her direction. “Yes?” His steps slowed as he walked toward her. A tall, dark, mysterious stranger.

“I wondered when you were coming.” Her voice came out low and husky.

“Olivia.”

How many times had he spoken her name in the past several weeks? Countless. Yet it had never slid off of his tongue like a caress. She didn’t need clear vision to feel the heat of his gaze as it flicked over her. He stopped before her.

Adam usually wore a trendy cologne she found somewhat cloying, but tonight he’d abandoned it. His clean, masculine scent, mingled with the sharp, cold, autumn air, aroused her.

Mercurial, quicksilver heat spread through her. Alarmed her. The staid, practical librarian demanded retreat. She stepped back and the darkness engulfed her. The distance didn’t diffuse the awareness that shimmered and danced between them.

Adam followed her into the shadows, the broad expanse of his shoulders silhouetted against the moon. “You’re beautiful. You take my breath away, Lady Olivia.”

Oh my. She checked the urge to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else and decided to try something new—gracious acceptance. “Thank you.”

“We should go inside. It’s cold out here.”

His low-timbered voice shivered against her skin. His words said one thing, his body language said something else as he dipped his head toward her.

“Yes. We should…” Instead, she stepped closer, drawn to him regardless of her will.

“…go inside.” Even as he finished her sentence, he cupped her shoulders and drew her forward.

She braced her hands against the smooth texture of his shirt, the spring of male hair beneath tantalizing. Evocative. Unnerving. “Tell me why again,” she murmured.

“It’s cold.”

Every inch of her body responded to him. The black velvet mask pressed sensually against her face while the night air’s cool fingers brushed against her heated skin. “Is it?”

She’d accepted Adam’s kisses before. Now, for the first time, she craved his kiss.

“Olivia?”

Her insides melted at the rich roll of her name on his lips—an auditory aphrodisiac. The night and her vision—or lack of—blurred reality, yet intensified her other senses. The steady rhythm of his breathing whispered a melody to the background accompaniment of the party’s muted sounds. His scent evoked an awareness deep within her.

Her breath mingled with his. As inevitable as the rise of the moon or the rustle of the wind through the dry leaves, her lips welcomed his.

And her world turned upside down.

Passion, long dormant and unacknowledged, awakened with an almost frightening intensity. Had she ever felt this way before? A ghost of a memory danced in her head, but wrapped in the feel and taste of him, Olivia gave it no credence.

Was it the full moon? Maybe the mask? Or simply because it felt so undeniably good? She didn’t stop to delve into motives. Instead, uncharacteristically, she abandoned herself to the situation and the sensations flooding her. She leaned into him and deepened their kiss.

Thus far in their relationship, Adam hadn’t been very physical. On the odd occasion when he was, his touch verged on platonic. Although he’d hesitated for the briefest moment, there was nothing platonic in the way he slanted his mouth over hers.

Olivia grasped his shoulders more firmly, as much to support herself as to enjoy the play of hard muscles beneath her hands. She silently apologized to Adam for previously thinking him a bit on the soft side. He was deliciously muscular and firm.

And his kissing had come a long way since the last time. They both came up for air. Olivia slumped against the brick wall for support. Adam braced himself against the same wall, his hands on either side of her. How was she supposed to catch her breath and recover from that kiss with his breath warming her face, his body mere inches from hers?

A few feet away, a window scraped open. Laughter and music spilled onto the porch, shattering their cocoon of intimacy. “It’s hot in here,” a woman’s complaint drifted out.

Olivia corrected her posture and Adam straightened, dropping his arms to his sides.

“We should go inside. It sounds as if it’s much warmer in there,” Olivia regained her voice along with her coherence.

Together they moved toward the door. Adam’s fingers found the small of her back and settled there. Shivers chased along her spine.

“It can’t be any hotter than it is now.” Adam’s muttered comment absolutely wrecked her small measure of composure as they joined the party.

LUKE NAVIGATED through the crush of people hovering about the door without stopping to talk. Kissing Olivia had damn near rendered him incapable of speech. He was still reeling from the impact of that kiss. Holding her in his arms, tasting her mouth, breathing in her scent, had felt like a homecoming. Thirteen long years and he realized the way he’d felt during that first kiss hadn’t been a fluke. He barely refrained from grinning like an idiot. If Adam had ever experienced even a sampling of Olivia’s brimming sensuality and passion, he’d have never referred to her as an ice princess.

He mentally compared the country club to Cecil’s Bar and Grill. As a matter of course, Luke didn’t frequent the country club. This was foreign territory. No dartboards. No pool tables. No neon lights advertising beer. No babes in leather bustiers.

Just as he’d anticipated, the lighting in the ballroom consisted of candles on small, white-clothed tables scattered around the dance floor perimeter. A cash bar in one corner did a steady business. He headed the other way. The less contact he had with people, the less likely he was to blow his disguise. Whoever was supposed to make contact with Adam, would surely seek him out. The safest way to avoid conversation was to hit the dance floor, Luke reasoned as he steered Olivia in that direction. And quite frankly, the prospect of holding her close didn’t pose a hardship.

The microphone hummed as the song ended and the band’s singer stepped up. “We’re going to slow it down before we take a break.”

The music began and Olivia turned into his arms with a quiet smile that slammed his heart against his ribs. Unfortunately, her smile was intended for his brother.

“I know you don’t like to dance, but I’m glad we’re out here,” she murmured as he clasped her hand, small and delicate, against his chest. She cupped his shoulder with her other hand. He didn’t dance much and certainly not with women like Olivia. She felt amazingly right in his embrace.

He was far happier to know Adam had never held her like this than he should’ve been.

“You inspire me.” He pulled her a fraction closer, achingly aware of her soft curves beneath the stiff starch of her dress. She radiated classy elegance. She’d been too good for him years ago when he’d stolen a kiss. She was still out of his league.

Behind the black velvet mask trimmed in feathers, her gray eyes studied him intently, almost squinting. Did she recognize he wasn’t Adam? No. He wanted to continue to hold her in his arms and sway to the sultry song. “What is it?”

Tugging her hand free of his, she reached up and rubbed the pad of her thumb against the edge of his upper lip. “I branded you with my lipstick.”

To hell with the lipstick, her touch branded him. Her hands drifted farther up, resting between his shoulders and his neck, touching his bare flesh. He’d seen fine-looking women naked and not been nearly as turned on as he was now.

Luke traced his finger along the satin skin near her lips.

“Am I smeared?” Her voice resonated low and husky, her breath warm and moist against his finger.

She wasn’t, but it offered a good excuse to touch her mouth. He lingered, tempted by the fullness of her lips and the memory of their recent kiss. “No, they’re perfect.”

Behind her mask, her gray eyes flirted, as she tilted her head coquettishly. “My Lord Pirate, your flattery goes to my head.” Her fingers cupped the nape of his neck. His belly clenched in response.

“And your nearness goes to mine, Lady Olivia.” Both of his heads.

With a sigh, she melted against him. This was the woman his brother referred to as the “ice princess”? Once again, he was fiercely glad Adam seemed oblivious to the passion that simmered just below her surface, that lit the seductive light in her eyes.

Silently swaying to the music, Luke absorbed Olivia. Her sensual mouth so at odds with the angular lines of her face. The graceful length of her neck that begged to be nibbled. The alabaster mounds of her breasts teasing at her neckline. The curve of her waist beneath his hand. The errant brush of her nipples against his chest. Her subtle fragrance wove about him, tantalizing and exotic. She was a hidden treasure and he knew just the pirate to explore her.

A giant marshmallow dancing with a peanut M&M’s bumped into him, jostling Olivia enough to bring her head up off his shoulder.

“Sorry, Adam. Olivia,” the marshmallow stammered an apology.

Luke managed not to glare at Mr. Sta-Puf as he steered in the opposite direction. For a few, brief minutes he’d forgotten Olivia was only in his arms on sufferance.

“I forgot to tell you earlier, Jeff was looking for you.” The feathers trimming her mask tickled against his chin. Fine strands of her hair brushed his cheek like dark silk.

“Good old Jeff.” Who the hell was Jeff? Obviously someone he should know, so he could hardly ask Olivia to point him out. Was he Adam’s contact at the party?

The song ended. Couples drifted off the crowded floor as the band dispersed for a break. He twined his fingers through Olivia’s, reluctant to release her.

A smile turned up the corners of her mouth and lit her eyes. “I have a table in the back.”

Several people greeted them. Luke returned the greeting, but continued to wind his way to the back of the room. Olivia glanced at him in surprise. “You don’t want to stop and talk?”

Oh, yeah. Adam was a schmoozer. “Not tonight.”

“Here it is.” Olivia stopped by one of the draped tables in a back corner. As Luke pulled out a chair for her, she sat in the one next to it. “You can have the seat facing the mirror.”

Luke glanced over at a mirror reflecting his pirate image. He bit back a smirk as he sat down. When they were teenagers, he’d teased Adam about frequently checking his appearance in the mirror. Apparently Adam still liked to admire himself. And apparently Olivia had noticed. His knee brushed against hers as he settled his legs beneath the table. The brief contact sizzled through him.

Olivia felt it too. Awareness echoed in her sharp intake of breath and the widening of her eyes. “I raised more money for the library addition tonight,” she said in a rush, as if desperate to say something.

“Good. Are you excited construction starts Monday?” Driven to touch her, he captured one of her hands and brought it to his mouth. He nuzzled the soft center of her palm. Her fingertips curled against his jaw. Her luscious lips parted. She appeared slightly dazed as she murmured a yes.

“You know Luke’s going to supervise the job personally.”

Her mouth tightened and her hand clenched within his grasp. “But Mr. Klegman is supposed to.”

Yes, Dave was supposed to until about two seconds ago when Luke decided he would take on the project. Dave wouldn’t care. “Change of plans, I guess.”

Olivia tensed. “No one mentioned it to me.”

Luke shrugged with feigned carelessness. He knew he shouldn’t tread where he was about to go, but daring had always faced down judiciousness. He leaned close, fascinated by the delicate shell of her ear. Luke inhaled her scent with each breath. “Don’t you like my brother?”

“No.” Her gut response rang low and vehement. She scrambled to recover as politeness warred with truth in the depth of her eyes. “I mean yes. Of course I do.”

It was ridiculous that something he already knew carried a sting. It was the why of the matter he didn’t understand. Tomorrow—when she realized he’d tricked her—tomorrow she’d have a reason to dislike him, but why now?

“I think your first answer was the truth. Why don’t you like Luke, Olivia?”

Her chin jutted at an obstinate angle. She gazed at the flickering candle. “He makes me uncomfortable. He doesn’t follow the rules. He’s a loose cannon and I’ve got enough of those in my own family.” She shifted her attention to stare directly into his eyes—well, his eye and the eyepatch covering the other one. “I don’t want to discuss Luke anymore.”

Quite frankly, he’d lost his appetite for hearing why she disliked him. “Fair enough. Why don’t I get us a drink?”

“Tonic with lime would be great.”

He found himself oddly reluctant to leave her for even the brief time required to fetch drinks. Without forethought or planning, he leaned forward and brushed the soft fullness of her mouth with the hard line of his own. It was difficult to say who was more surprised, her or him. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.” She appeared as bemused as he felt.

Luke managed to cross the room to the bar without getting snagged into a conversation, which was a good thing because quiet, demure Olivia had thrown him for a loop. Quiet, demure women should have a calming effect on a man. Olivia affected him just the opposite. Something about her stirred up the wildness in his soul. Every damn time he was around her, he wound up kissing her.

He ordered two tonics with lime—as much as he’d like a healthy splash of gin to doctor his up, he needed to keep a clear head and that was already something of a challenge with Olivia. Drinks in hand, he turned and found himself face-to-face with Henrietta Williams, head of the Welcome Committee and a member of the Chamber of Commerce.

“Hello, Adam. You look so dashing as a pirate. I declare, you almost take my breath away.” Henrietta batted her lashes and simpered.

It was far more likely that Henrietta’s girdle rendered her breathless. Luke, however, in a rare moment of gallantry, refrained from making that observation. “Why thank you, Henrietta. That’s quite a…” he searched frantically for a way to describe a woman with the proportions of a sumo wrestler wearing a Geisha getup “um…inventive outfit you have there.”

“Candy and I are Oriental sugar and spice tonight.” Henrietta giggled behind a lacquered fan, and indicated her daughter at a nearby table. Candy, a younger replica of her mother, both in build and costume, waved in his direction. “I know you’re glad to have all that fund-raising over with. It was generous of you to give up so much of your time to that Cooper girl. Very sweet of you to invite her tonight to the club.” She lowered her voice and raised her penciled eyebrows. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t get any ideas she belongs here.”

“I know what you mean, Olivia’s much too good to belong here,” Luke even managed to smile at the snobbish battle-ax.

Luke turned on his heel and walked away even as Henrietta tittered behind him. “Now Candy’s going to save you a dance as long as you don’t make her walk the plank. I’ll tell her to look for you when the band starts up again,” she sang out to his retreating back.

He cut across the empty dance floor, eager to avoid any more matchmaking mammas.

Luke presented Olivia with the watered-down drink, the ice having given up the fight with the crowded, overheated room.

“Sorry, the ice is pretty much gone. Henrietta Williams waylaid me.”

“Let me guess, Henrietta was trying to set you up with Candy.” She took the drink. He watched as Olivia tipped the glass, fascinated by the movement of her throat as she swallowed. Moisture dripped from the glass to the valley created by her cleavage. She lowered the tumbler and sighed with satisfaction. “At least it’s wet.” She held the glass against her neck. “Are you as hot as I am?”

The lack of guile in her gray eyes combined with her sexy words left him dry-mouthed with want. He fought the urge to lick off the moisture where it clung to a tempting expanse of her neck, to follow that wet rivulet to her valley. If she ever realized her own sensuality, she’d be lethal.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been hotter.” Desperate, he tossed back a portion of water, mourning his decision to forego a stiff measure of gin. Alcohol couldn’t possibly unhinge him any further.

“Let’s take a moonlight stroll in the gardens.”

Once again, desire slammed him. “I don’t think that will cool us off.”

“I know.”

A rush of tenderness filled him at the hint of uncertainty flickering in her eyes, despite the invitation issued by her smile. Luke sat rooted to the spot, momentarily incapable of moving, overwhelmed by his good luck.

The microphone squealed as the band’s singer announced the next set. In the mirror, he caught a glimpse of Henrietta urging Candy in his direction. That was enough to dispel his inertia.

As the other couples rushed to the dance floor, he slipped out the back door with Olivia.




3


MOONLIGHT DANCED through bare branches, casting an ethereal spell along the garden path. Gravel crunched underfoot as they passed a fountain where a stone maiden spilled water into a pool below. The fecund fragrance of fertile soil underlaid the brisk bite of autumn air.

Caught up in sensual enchantment, Olivia wouldn’t have been surprised to spot a satyr in fleeting pursuit of a nymph. She herself had become a lady-in-waiting absconding with a dangerous pirate. Tomorrow she’d go back to plain Olivia the librarian, but this magical night had transformed her into Lady Olivia.

Neither spoke until they reached a trellised archway where countless couples had exchanged vows over the years. Within the shadowed confines of the archway, Adam turned to her. He wrapped his hands around the back of her neck, tugging her closer with a tender urgency. She’d never guessed such an innocuous spot could be so rich in sensory nerves. She felt his touch all the way to her toes.

Even as she slid her hands around his waist and met his lips with her own, Olivia realized she’d never felt more alive than at this moment. Her eyes drifted closed. His mouth tasted faintly of lime. Was it seconds or hours that they stood wrapped in one another? Olivia had no idea, she only knew it hadn’t been long enough when the kiss ended. She leaned back against the latticed wall of the trellis, seeking support. Give Adam a pirate costume and he became a different man.

Adam leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. Just that simple contact and his proximity, and her knees threatened to buckle. It was as if some magic thread bound them together.

“Olivia, I need to tell you something—”

She quieted him with a finger against his lips. “Shh. Tonight’s magic.” She traced the firm line of his mouth with her fingertip and felt his shuddered response. A thrill shot through her that she affected him as deeply as he affected her. And much like a tiny piece of rich, dark chocolate melting against her tongue, his kisses were sinfully delicious but gone so quickly, she merely craved more.

“But, I’m—”

“Please.” She leaned against him and teased her tongue against his lips. “When you…when I…I’ve never felt that way before when we kissed.” Olivia summoned all her courage. “I don’t want to talk, I just want to feel like that again.”

With a groan, he swooped down and captured her mouth. Forget feeling that way again—this was even better. His lips probed, fierce yet tender. She opened her mouth to him, eager for the thrust of his tongue against hers. Heat scorched her, from the inside out. He splayed his broad hands against her back to pull her closer, and she arched into him. Her breasts welcomed the hard wall of his chest. She moaned her pleasure into his mouth and felt him swell, hard and fast, against her belly.

A sense of destiny shook her.

He dragged his mouth away from hers. Their breathing rasped into the quiet of the garden. Before she could protest his abandonment, he scattered kisses along her jawline. Olivia dropped her head back to allow him fuller access to her neck. Quick study, her pirate. As he lavished her with kisses, his breath warm and moist against the chill of her exposed skin, she quivered and her body tightened.

He slid her dress off of one shoulder, baring it to his mouth. “So…very…very…sweet.” Nibbles punctuated his words and drove her further out of her mind, into a state of blissful sensation. “So…beautiful.” His tongue swirled against the exposed slope of her breast. Desire flashed through her, like a rampaging river swollen by torrential rains.

He slipped his thumb inside her bodice and brushed against her pearled tip. Olivia whimpered. A faint scrape of his thumbnail against her nipple and her hips undulated against him in supplication. He pushed aside the starched material and freed her breast to the nip of the night air.

She felt vulnerable. She also experienced a peculiar sense of belonging and shelter in his arms. Exposed, yet safe. It was an intoxicating combination.

“You…” he cupped her breast in his hand “…are…” he bent forward until his breath warmed her tight bud “…mine?” Part declaration, part question.

“Yes.” Part answer, part demand.

He suckled her deep into his mouth, then released her to tug at her nipple with his lips. Pleasure pulsed from her breast to her thighs. She clutched at the lattice behind her, bruising the delicate vine twining around it, and whimpered.

The sharp sound of crunching gravel nearby interrupted. Teasing laughter floated over the flowers and shrubs, as another couple sought the enchantment of a garden stroll.

Olivia froze, acutely aware of her semidressed state in the shadow of the trellis. Before she summoned the wherewithal, Adam restored her clothing with unsteady hands.

Instead of anticipated embarrassment, mild annoyance at the interruption stirred in her breast—and other parts farther south.

The night air carried a woman’s voice. “It’s cold out here. Let’s go back to your house.” A man murmured indistinctly, but retreating footsteps left Olivia and Adam alone once again.

Olivia had no intention of squandering even a minute of this night out of time. She smoothed her palms over the flat plane of his belly up to his chest. Standing on tiptoe, she whispered into his ear, “I don’t think it’s cold at all. In fact, I think it’s very, very hot.”

His wig, gathered at his nape with a leather strap in true pirate fashion, tickled against her nose, surprisingly silky and real. Tonight Adam had abandoned his hair gel with the annoying odor. She infinitely preferred the clean scent of sandalwood present beneath the wig.

“Honey, you are killing me.” His low murmur stirred her hair and her feminine self-esteem.

“Am I really?” Go figure. She, Olivia Cooper, a femme fatale? From the time she’d donned her costume and mask, it was as if she’d slid through the rabbit hole—Olivia in Sensual Wonderland.

He brushed his groin against her, the thick ridge of his erection apparent. “Really.”

Her thighs quivered and clenched in response. “Oh, my. Is that a sword in your pocket or are you just glad to see me, Captain Hook?” And now she was glib and flirtatious. Really, altogether too strange.

She sensed his smile in the dark as his thumb played against the hollow of her cheek. “Baby, I’m so glad to see you, there’s no damn way I can go inside now.”

Up until now Adam had always addressed her in a formal manner. His earthy sensuality struck a chord within her.

Where such boldness came from she would always wonder, but she reached between them and palmed him. He pulsed at her touch. “We could go to my house.”

“Are you propositioning me, Olivia?” Was that a hopeful note underlaying his incredulity?

She knew she’d stepped—make that leaped—beyond her self-imposed boundaries. But one night. For one night her mask and the shadows offered a measure of anonymity. She drew a fortifying breath and seized the opportunity. “Yes. I believe I am.”

“Thank God.” He wrapped her in his arms. “Pillage and plunder?”

“Hmmm.” Instinct took over. She licked at the base of his throat. He shuddered in response.

“Let’s go.” The strain in his voice and the fact she’d put it there, excited her.

She traced her tongue against the pulse hammering in his neck. He groaned and set her from him. “Let’s go now. No more of that.”

Compelled to seek one more touch, Olivia kissed the strong column of his throat. The slight chafing of his beard aroused her unbearably.

“Olivia, you’ve got to stop.” His voice echoed his harsh breathing. “We’re about one kiss away from the point when I won’t care if fifty people are inside that building. Before I prop you against the lattice, raise your skirts, and slip inside you while you wrap your legs around me.”

His words inflamed her. Moisture slicked her. Her nipples further tightened to hard points of want. She teetered dangerously close to the edge of not caring herself. The ten-minute car trip to her house loomed like an eternity.

She couldn’t get him home fast enough. “Let’s go. You can follow me.”

He twined his fingers through hers and tugged her along, leaving the privacy of their hidden corner behind. She sensed his urgent need matched hers. As they reached the front steps of the club, Adam tossed his ticket at the snoozing teenager on valet duty. “I’ll be back in a minute for my car.”

The boy scrambled for the appropriate key. “Yes, sir, Mr. Rutledge.”

Without speaking, they wound through the parking lot. When they reached her car, Adam caught her up in his arms and kissed her hard, as if he hadn’t touched her for days instead of a matter of minutes. His mouth’s demanding hunger reduced the world to just the two of them. Still holding her in his arms, he raised his head.

“Olivia, I want you to know there hasn’t been anyone for a long time.”

“Does that mean you’re desperate?” she blurted out, her insecurities running away with her mouth.

He chuckled as he slid the backs of his fingers against her cheek. Although she couldn’t see it, she felt the intensity of his gaze. “No. It means I’m choosy. Very, very choosy.” He bent his head and kissed her, a slow, lip-clinging, mind-drugging, heat-infusing kiss. “But I am desperate for you.” He brushed her lips with his once more. “I’ll be right behind you,” he promised, looking back as he strode away.

Olivia remained against her car, uncertain she was actually capable of driving.

She opened the door and fell into the seat, the bright light of the interior harsh compared to the soft moonlight. Olivia killed the dome light and fumbled for her glasses. She slid her mask to her forehead and donned her glasses. She cranked the car and pulled out of the space. Adam’s car lights flashed in her rearview as she turned left onto the highway.

If she hadn’t seen him drive up in his car, wearing the costume he’d described earlier, she wouldn’t have known him. Tonight everything about him—his voice, his scent, his touch—tapped something deep inside her.

Although she had her occasional wild impulses, there had never been anything of this magnitude. Tonight was so out of character for her, she should be frightened. But it was excitement that rendered her hands unsteady on the wheel. The only thing that scared her now was that Adam might change his mind on the drive.

She checked her rearview mirror. Yeow! Let him get a look at this and he’d change his mind for sure. Tortoiseshell glasses and a black velvet mask hiked to her forehead—not pretty. Without her glasses, she was a one-woman wreck waiting to happen. But the minute she pulled into the driveway, they were history.

LUKE FOLLOWED OLIVIA. Don’t change your mind, he silently willed her.

But what kind of son-of-a-bitch considered sleeping with his brother’s girlfriend? A worrisome remnant of his conscience niggled him. The kind who knew Adam didn’t really care about Olivia. The kind who knew she had never responded to Adam the way she responded to him. The kind who couldn’t manage a coherent thought after kissing her. The kind pulling into her driveway behind her…

In three quick strides he caught up with her as she fumbled with the key in the front door lock.

“Let me help you with that.” He reached around her, fitting his hand over hers, and inserted the key. Wisps of her hair tickled his chin. The curve of her buttock teased his erection. His hand shook so badly, it took both of them to open the door. Olivia in her seductive mode stirred the wildness in him to fever pitch.

He followed her into a small, dark foyer. The door barely closed behind them before she turned to him. He reached for her as she launched herself at him, her mouth demanding, her hands eager as they worked at the buttons of his shirt. His body surged a response, impatient to find release in her. He struggled to remember something important he should discuss with her. Her hips ground against him and his brain skipped to autopilot.

Harsh breathing—his—echoed in his ears. She mewled deep in her throat as his tongue parried with hers. He damn near came.

“Honey, we’ve got to find your bedroom or your couch because I can’t—”

“No.”

She’d changed her mind. He tensed, painfully near the point of no return. But if Olivia said no, then it was no. “No?”

“Forget the couch or the bed. Here. Now.” Her voice, low and husky, seduced him. She stroked him through his breeches, her touch a trail of fire. “Against the wall. Just the way you described it at the club, in the garden….”

He backed her against the door before she finished her sentence. “Against the wall like this?”

Her sharp intake of breath transmitted her approval. Her breathing rasped as harshly as his own. “Yes.”

She unzipped his pants and he sprang free. Luke gritted his teeth and barely held himself in check when her fingers found the thick fluid at his tip and spread it down his shaft.

He jerked up the stiff material of her skirt until it bunched around her waist. He held it in place with one hand. Her breath came in short, sharp pants. Her eyes glittered behind her mask as she brought her fingers to her mouth and tasted him. He could barely speak. “Raise your skirt like this?”

She licked her lips and surged against him. “Yes. Just like that.”

He delved between her thighs and discovered wet satin. Pushing the material aside, his fingers found her honey-drenched folds. “Oh, baby.” His voice shook. “Put your hands on my shoulders.” Cupping the soft, plump mounds of her buttocks, he lifted her and tested himself against her slick wetness. “Liv, you are so hot. So wet.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and strained against him. “Yes. Yes. For you.”

For him. His Lady Olivia. He lowered her onto his shaft. “Slip into you like this?” He braced her against the door and clenched his teeth. As he slid farther into her, she took him to a place he’d never been before, where the current of emotion ran as fast and deep and twice as treacherous as mere physical desire.

Deep within her body, her muscles tightened around him in response. “Yes. Just like that.”

He thrust three more times and Olivia began to climax. The shudder that gripped her, affected him as well. Luke threw back his head and joined her in a release. And for the first time in his life, it was more than a physical release. The fact that they’d just had hard, fast sex didn’t diminish the wellspring of jumbled emotion he felt for Olivia.

Her legs still wrapped around him, she slumped against the door. A satisfied smile curved her lips. Male pride surged through him. He had put that smile on her face. And regardless of how fast she ran this time, he’d be right behind her. And doubtless, she’d run. She wouldn’t be pleased when she discovered his true identity. But he’d discovered the buried treasure and he wasn’t giving her up. She was his booty.

She opened her eyes with a flutter of lashes. A subtle shift of her lips transformed her smile to suggestive seduction. She trailed her finger down his chest to his belly and beyond to where their bodies remained joined. “Ready for a little pillage and plunder?”

OLIVIA TUMBLED back onto her bed, bringing Adam along with her. For the first time ever, she wished she owned something more risqué than pima cotton sheets. For the first time ever, she’d discovered delicious satisfaction and the restless ache for more.

Moonlight filtered through the sheer drapes at the window, bathing the room in a soft glow. It reinforced the surreal quality of the night. She’d swear she’d embarked on an out-of-body experience, except her body was very much involved. The red blink of the answering machine on her bedside table heralded a message. A responsible woman would check her messages. But she’d thrown off that particular gown tonight. Quite frankly, she was much more interested in her pirate than finding out if Marty had landed himself in jail or if the literacy council was meeting next week. She ignored the persistent blink of the red light.

“I’m sure you’d be much more comfortable out of that dress,” Adam teased as he reached behind her and tugged at her zipper. In the amount of time she’d known him, he’d never teased before. She liked this playful side of him. But then again, he’d done a lot of things tonight he’d never done before. And she liked all of them. She could get used to him sprawled across her bed, coaxing her out of her clothes.

Olivia slid off the bed and shimmied free of her starched pleats. She’d lost her earlier sense of urgency, yet not the anticipation of touching him again. Slowly, she raised her hands to the pins in her hair, conscious of the upthrust of her breasts. With sensual deliberation, she released her hair, exhilarating in the weight and slide of it against her bare shoulders. She stood, clad in her mask and merry widow, illuminated by moonbeams.




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