Lie to Me (3 page)

“Great,” he said as he started up the hill. His fantasy girl finally showed a spark of interest, and he had to end it before he could even enjoy it. For one brief second, he thought about blowing off the necklace and pursuing Chloe instead.

The idea brought him up short. What was he thinking? Forgetting about the necklace was not an option. To the rest of the world, the pendant with a tiny mirror in its center might be a major historical find. To him and his grandmother, it was far more personal. Far more powerful.
 

When most people looked into the mirror, they saw only their reflection, while others saw vague images that made no sense. For his grandmother, the mirror had increased her natural gift of sight. With its help, she’d become one of the most celebrated fortunetellers in the French Quarter.
 

After losing it, she’d stopped telling fortunes all together.
 

Mémère would always be a colorful part of the French Quarter community, but sometimes he felt as if a part of her was missing. She’d assured him repeatedly that she accepted the loss, but he feared her brave face hid a deep well of grief. The minute he’d shown her the article about Chloe finding the necklace, she’d broken down and wept, begging him to go to Galveston. To go after the mirror.

No way would he return home without it.

Firming his resolve, he walked up the trail to the inn, where Chloe and the children had already gone inside.

“Is the boy okay?” one of the guests on the veranda asked.

“He’s fine,” Luc assured.
 

A sign on the front door said Welcome, Come On In, so he did. The air-conditioned interior enveloped him and his eyes went temporarily blind after the bright sunlight on the beach.
 

When his vision adjusted, he found himself in a central hall wide enough to serve as a lobby. Wood-paneled walls and a high ceiling gave the space an imposing presence, especially with the sailing ships and sea serpents that had been carved into the thick crown molding. Adding a softer touch, Victorian armchairs and a settee had been grouped before a massive fireplace where someone had filled the hearth with flowers in deference to the warm weather. Beyond the sitting area, a grand staircase swept up the back wall under a tall, stained glass window that bathed the landing in jewel-toned light.
 

Now this
, he thought,
is a house worthy of a notorious shipping baron.
Power and wealth hung in the air. Even the dust motes gleamed like tiny flecks of gold.
 

A brand new world for Vortal sprang to life in his brain. He couldn’t wait to add booby traps around every corner. The ideas came one after another, even as he looked for Chloe.
 

Poking about, he found a gift shop to the left of the front door. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves told him the room had originally served as a library. The feminine tea sets, dolls, and knickknacks that filled the shelves now seemed an affront to such a masculine domain. For Vortal, he’d return it to its original purpose and add secret passages behind the bookcases. At the desk in the center of the room, which now served as a display table, he imagined a dark-haired, sinister man in pre-Civil-War tailcoat and breeches. Getting past him would be one of the challenges.
 

Toying with potential scenarios, he crossed the lobby to investigate the room in the base of the turret. It had obviously been a parlor but now served as an office. A modern laptop sat on a dainty desk before a white marble fireplace. Gauzy drapes covered the tall, slender windows in the curved wall, obscuring but not hiding a view of the cove.
 

To balance the sinister dude in the library, here he’d have a beautiful Southern belle who could serve as a keeper of secrets to aid players on their quest. He pictured her with raven-black hair styled into sausage curls at the nape. He’d put her in a hoop-skirted lavender gown worn off the shoulder to reveal a tasteful amount of breast.

His mind still churned with ideas as he turned back to the lobby and stopped dead. The exact woman he’d just pictured came rushing down the stairs, the skirts of the gown belling about her.
 

She looked so real, every hair on his body stood on end.

The woman stopped on the landing and stared at him with riveting blue eyes.
 

He remained frozen in place as the vision shook off her surprise and continued her flight down the stairs. He braced himself, afraid she’d come straight toward him. Instead, she rounded the newel, dashed toward the wall of paneling under the stairs, and vanished straight through it.

Whoa!
He shook his head to clear it. That was a bit too freaky, even for him. As much as he wanted to obliterate the line between reality and imagination in the gaming world, seeing something he’d imagined appear before him like a hologram gave him pause. Clearly he’d been working too hard. Losing himself in coding Vortal for too many days on end tended to play tricks on his brain.

“Focus,” he told himself.
And find Chloe.
She and the kids couldn’t have just vanished. Looking in the direction his hallucination had gone, he noticed wet footprints on the floor. They led to the same wall of paneling under the stairs.
 

A secret door? Why not? Hidden passages for servants were common in old mansions. Delighted at the possibility, he went to examine the paneling, looking for a secret handle. Finding none, he simply pushed and the middle panel swung inward on silent hinges, revealing a dark, narrow hall. Halfway down the passage, light spilled from a wide doorway on the right, along with the buzz of agitated female voices. The area shouted “off limits to guests,” but as Blade would say, those who hesitated rarely won the day. With a shrug, he slipped into the dark hall.
 

The doorway opened to a light-filled kitchen. The mouth-watering aroma of baking brownies drifted from commercial-grade ovens that blended in seamlessly with exposed brick and wooden rafters. A wrought-iron rack hanging from the ceiling held an array of well-used pots and pans over a center island cluttered with baking supplies.

Beyond the island, he spotted Chloe talking rapidly to two other women. The taller of the two was a stunning strawberry blonde wearing a white T-shirt and blue shorts. Her hair spiraled in corkscrew curls to her trim waist. The other woman, a petite brunette in a floral sundress, possessed a quieter beauty. The twins stood nearby, arms crossed and mutiny written on their faces, while the older girl held the sniffling toddler.

The tall blonde gasped at Chloe’s tale and pulled the dripping wet boy to her, wrapping her arms about his head, pressing his face to her stomach. “Adrian Jackson Chancellor, what were you thinking!”

“Mom, I’m okay.” The boy’s voice sounded muffled as he flailed his arms. He managed to pull back and grin up at his mother. “It was cool.”
 

With a growl, the boy’s mother cupped his face. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Well, I know what I’m going to do with you two.” Arms akimbo, the brunette narrowed her eyes at the twins.
 

“It wasn’t our fault,” the twin in blue swim trunks insisted, while the one wearing red trunks stood silently by, his scowl growing darker.

“You dared him to do it,” the older girl accused. Her long curls, while blonder, matched those of the woman hugging the equally blond AJ, so Luc grouped them together as one family. The sniffling toddler bore more resemblance to the petite brunette and the twins.
 

“I don’t want to hear it.” The brunette held a hand up for silence. “We’re all going downstairs to get clean and dry.” She pointed at the twins. “Then you two are in for some major time out.”

“Time out?” the twin in the blue trunks protested. “We’re almost ten. We’re too old for time out.”
 

“You would prefer another punishment for egging AJ on?” The brunette tapped her foot. “Maybe no beach time for a week?”
 

“No, no.” The talkative twin held his hands out. “Time out’s good. We can do time out. Can’t we, Rafe?”

The silent Rafe sent his brother a glare that promised retribution.

“Chloe,” AJ’s mother said as she lifted the boy onto her hip, “will you keep an eye on the brownies in the oven while we take this band of heathens downstairs?”

“I need to change, too,” Chloe protested, looking down at her wet shirt.
 

Luc’s gaze followed and found the orange fabric clinging transparently to her wet skin and hot pink swimsuit, which somehow looked more provocative than the string bikini alone.

“I’ll be quick,” the stunning blonde assured her.

“Come on. All of you.” The brunette waved the children into a huddle. The minute she turned and spotted Luc standing in the dark hall, she drew up short, surprise widening blue eyes that looked disarmingly similar to his hallucination. “Oh! Hello.”

Chloe spun toward the door at her aunt Allison’s greeting. Her heart bumped when she saw the hunk from the beach standing there, watching them with open curiosity.

“Can I help you?” Allison asked, friendly but with a hint of wariness at a total stranger wandering into the private area of the inn.

“I just wanted to be sure everything’s all right,” he said, stepping forward into the light. His shirt had lost the half-tuck and his hair was damp and mussed. Chloe found the less calculated look far more attractive.

“Everything’s fine,” she assured, feeling breathless. “Well, considering one of my cousins nearly drowned.”

“Cousins?” His brows quirked up over green eyes that seemed to take in every detail of the gathering before returning to Chloe with a silent question.

“Pseudo cousin, in AJ’s case, since his mother is my aunt’s sister,” Chloe explained, then turned to Aurora. “Rory, this is the man who saved AJ’s life.”

“Actually,” he said, “you’re the one who dove in after him.”

“But you’re the one who did CPR.”

“CPR?” Aurora blanched. “You didn’t say anything about CPR.”

“It was kind of hard to get the whole story out,” Chloe explained, “with all the shouting and crying going on.”

“Oh my God.” Aurora clutched AJ’s head to her shoulder as she looked at the stranger. “How will I ever thank you?”

“No need,” the man said, then sent AJ a mock scowl. “I just hope you don’t have cooties, kid.”

“Only girls have those.” AJ giggled.

“This is not funny,” Aurora scolded her son, then gave the man another look of gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Anyone would have done the same.” He shrugged.

“Or wanted to.” Chloe looked at him, impressed. A conceited man would have been puffing up with self-importance, not discounting what he’d done. “I don’t know how to do CPR.”

“Really?” Curiosity lit in his eyes. “Then I guess we’re even, since I don’t know how to swim.”

“Seriously?” Her gaze dropped to a body so fit, she had trouble believing he couldn’t swim all the way to the mainland.
 

“Well, we’re grateful,” Aurora said with feeling. “I’m Rory Chancellor, by the way, AJ’s mother.”

“Pleased to meet you.” He nodded.

“And this is my sister, Alli.”

“Chloe’s aunt,” Allison clarified as she leaned over the twins, offering a hand and a welcoming smile.

After shaking Allison’s hand, the stranger smiled at Chloe in a way that made her heart flutter. “So that would make you... Chloe.”
 

“That would be me.” She smiled. “And you would be?”

His face went blank for just a second. “I’m... Luc-as.” Color tinged his cheeks as he repeated it more confidently. “Lucas.”
 

“Good to meet you, Lucas.” She marveled at his blush. He looked adorably out of his element, like he didn’t really know what to say, but couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her head spun with giddiness at having a guy look at her like that. Had her first impression of him been that off base?

“Hmm,” Allison hummed, and Chloe felt her aunt’s gaze moving back and forth between the two of them. “We’ll just leave you two alone while Rory and I take the children downstairs. Assuming you don’t mind watching the brownies.”

“Not at all.” Chloe barely noticed as the family filed down the back stairs to the private apartment in the basement. Leaving her alone with Lucas.
 

“Well,” she managed. “Welcome to Pearl Island.”

“That was, uh...” He cleared his throat. “Quite a welcome. Is it always like this?”

“Some days.” She glanced about the kitchen. “Can I offer you anything? Something to drink? Eat?”

“I, uh, hmm.” He looked uncertain. “I’m fine.”

Was he shy? How could a guy who looked like that be shy? “You never had a chance to tell me why you’re here.”

“It’s... complicated.” A scowl drew his brows together. “Maybe we should wait until things calm down a bit.”

“Around here?” She rolled her eyes. “That could take a while.”

“I can at least wait until you change.” His gaze traveled down.

She glanced down as well. “Oh, God,” she groaned in embarrassment. “I look like a drowned rat.”

“Actually, you look... great.” His voice tightened on the last word, which made his cheeks turn even redder. His eyes darted away. “I think I should wait while you change into something dry.”