Low Country Liar (10 page)

"No, I—I just didn't hear you, that's all." Her fingers tightened nervously on the stiff cover of the folder.

His dark gaze slid to the folder. "What do you have there?"

"Oh, er, this?" Damn, Lisa thought, she had to stop stammering like an errant child. "It's the Talmadge file. Drew just returned it, and I was just going to put it back in the cabinet."

"There's no need." He held out his hand. "I'll take it. There's a couple things in there I want to look over."

No, she cried inwardly, her fingers tightening convulsively on the folder.
Aloud she murmured a hopeful, "Now?"

"Of course now." There was a humorless, silent laugh in his voice.

It had been a ridiculous question. Grudgingly Lisa handed it to him, unable to argue her right to keep it. "Was there anything else?" she asked, reverting to a taut, professional tone.

"No, nothing else." His gaze narrowed briefly on her before he shifted his attention to the folder in hand reentered his office.

Twice the file had been in her grasp and twice it had been taken from her.
 

Frustration was beginning to set in.

Her assertion to Drew that she was going to have lunch at her desk trapped Lisa into spending the noon hour in her office. Although Slade had taken her aunt's file, she was determined all this time wasn't going to be wasted. Perhaps she could find some incriminating evidence in the files of the decorators, carpenters, and landscape company Slade used.

The trouble was that she didn't know their names and she wasn't any nearer to understanding the filing system. Her own code of ethics wouldn't permit her to examine a file unless something in its title had reference to the type of firm she was seeking. This seemed to eliminate the bulk of the folders.

Before the lunch hour was over, Lisa knew how a spy felt. Every creaking floorboard in the old building made her jump. Voices filtering in from the street had her looking around in alarm. Snooping was an unpleasant occupation, especially when one came up with zero results.

The sound of Slade's voice in the outer reception area sent her scurrying to her desk. She was bent over the paper in her typewriter when he walked into her office. Lisa pretended an absorption in her work rather than look up.

"Have there been any calls for me?" He stopped at her desk.

"No, sir." She made an unnecessary erasure of a word she had typed much earlier and blew the erasure dust from the paper.

"I'm expecting Clyde Sanders to stop by. When he arrives, send him into my office," Slade instructed.

"Yes, sir." Lisa nodded her compliance and sighed with relief when he walked into his private office and closed the door.

Chapter Five

BY THE END of the day, Lisa was engulfed in frustration. She had kept waiting and waiting for Slade to return her aunt's folder so that it could be filed…after, of course, she had looked through it. But he hadn't.

Shortly after three that afternoon, Slade had left the office on an errand. Desperate, Lisa had sneaked into his office to see if he had left the folder behind. She couldn't find it among the papers on his desk. One drawer of his desk had been locked and he had taken his briefcase with him. Lisa had presumed it was in one of the two places.

This deception was threatening to last much longer than she had ever intended. The longer it continued, the greater became the risk of being unmasked. Lisa knew she had to take advantage of every opportunity. If an opportunity didn't present itself, she would have to try to arrange one.

A few minutes after five, Lisa was still at the typewriter. Her plan was to keep working until after Slade had left and hopefully find the folder in the briefcase he had brought back with him. Slade was in his office with a client. No matter how tired she was or how much her body ached, Lisa was determined to outwait him.

Her patience was rewarded five minutes later when she heard the connecting door open to Slade's private office and the voices of the two men talking as they came out. Her fingers continued tapping at the typewriter keys.

Lisa faked a concentration in her task and hoped Slade would leave with the man. But he walked with him only as far as the door to the reception area and bid him goodbye. When the client was gone, Slade turned. Lisa felt his gaze rest on her. Her skin prickled with her awareness of it, sensitive nerve ends reacting. But she tried to give no sign that she knew he was looking at her.

"It's after five, Mrs. Eldridge," he spoke, not allowing Lisa to ignore him any longer. "You should have left twenty minutes ago."

Her fingers paused on the keys as she gave him a preoccupied glance. "I'll be leaving shortly," she assured him with vague indifference.

"You do realize your children will be home from school by now."

His statement paralyzed Lisa. He said it as if she had children. Among all the lies she'd told, had she claimed to have children? She searched her memory. Unless it had failed her, Lisa was positive that she hadn't.

"I don't have any children, Mr. Blackwell," she corrected that impression. "My husband and I have decided to wait a few years before beginning a family."

"Regardless, your husband will be home expecting his dinner."
 

Lisa seethed at that typically male statement, but as Ann Eldridge, she didn't dare voice her feminist views on the subject of equality of sexes, nor her opinion that a husband could start dinner if his wife worked late. So she had to find another plausible reason why it wasn't essential for her to be home immediately.

"Undoubtedly my husband is working late, too," she said.

"Oh? What does he do?" Slade asked.

"He's in construction. When the weather is as beautiful as it is today, he gets in a lot of overtime. I'll be home before he is, even if I stay until six." Lisa shrugged her unconcern.

"There isn't any need for you to stay late."

"I want to finish this. You can go ahead and leave." The sooner, the better, Lisa added to herself. "As soon as I'm through here, I'll be going home, too, but I know how important it is—"
 

"Nothing is so important that it can't wait until tomorrow," Slade interrupted. "Your attitude is very commendable, Mrs. Eldridge, but unnecessary."

"But I don't mind staying" Lisa protested.

A dark eyebrow lifted at her persistence. "I said it wasn't necessary. Cover your typewriter and clear your desk. This is an order, Mrs. Eldridge," he stated.

"Very well." Lisa should have been grateful for his thoughtful consideration, but he had thwarted her attempt to stay late. She was frustrated once again.

Slade stood by her desk for several more seconds. Lisa shook out the plastic cover for the typewriter and draped it over the machine. The action apparently satisfied him that she intended to comply with his order and he returned to his private office.

Lisa took her time clearing the desk and putting things away. She used every excuse to linger, sharpening pencils and arranging the articles on her desk in a precise order. There was still a chance Slade might leave before she did. Ten minutes later, she was straightening a stack of papers in her file tray as Slade walked out of his office.

His gaze narrowed on her sharply, his features lean and hard. "Are you still here, Mrs. Eldridge? I thought I told you to go home."

"I was just straightening my desk." She took the blank stationery paper from beside the typewriter and returned it to its proper desk drawer. "I'll be leaving in a few minutes."

His mouth thinned as he turned and walked to the file cabinet. The hope that he might be on his way home, died as he removed two folders and returned to his office. There was nothing Lisa could do but leave and hope for better luck the next day.

Walking the blocks to her aunt's house, Lisa tried to formulate some plan of action, but she was too tired and vaguely dispirited to think. The wig in her purse seemed to weigh a ton. She had barely entered the house, the door not yet closed, when Mitzi's questioning voice sought her out.

"Lisa, is that you?" She came sweeping out of the living room into the foyer. "Gracious, I was about to send out a search party for you."

"I'm sorry I'm late," Lisa apologized, a faint, tired sigh in her voice. "I didn't mean for you to worry."

"You look exhausted. Sightseeing all day must have worn you out." A sympathetic smile curved her aunt's mouth. "Did you try to see everything in one day?"

"Something like that," she hedged and arched her back to ease her cramped and sore muscles. "Right now the only thing I want to see is a tubful of hot water."

"A nice hot bath works wonders. You go soak for a while," Mitzi instructed. "Later you can come downstairs and join me in a relaxing drink before dinner."

"I'll do that," Lisa agreed and climbed the spiral staircase to her room.

While the bathtub was filling with water, Lisa undressed. Halfway to the bathroom she remembered the wig was still crammed in her purse. She took it out and hid it in the rear of a dresser drawer. She followed the scent of the fragrant bubble bath to the tub, turned off the faucets and climbed in. Lisa had no idea how long she lay soaking in the bath, but the water was cool when she climbed out to towel herself dry.

Lisa sighed dispiritedly as she slipped on the silk kimono-styled dressing robe that was chocolate brown and embroidered in pale ivory. The long bubble bath had eased the stiffness of her muscles, but it had done little to wash away the troubled light in her green
eyes. Each day spent as Ann Eldridge was a risk.

Opening her closet door, she immediately turned away. She didn't feel like dressing even though she knew Mitzi was waiting downstairs for her to join her. The silk robe swished softly about her ankles as she walked barefoot to her bedroom door.

Maybe her aunt wouldn't stand on ceremony. A quiet evening spent lounging around was what Lisa dearly wanted and needed. She seriously doubted if Mitzi would object.

Her hand reached for the carved banister of the staircase. Something—a sound, a voice—stopped her, her foot poised on the edge of the first step. At the bottom of the stairs stood Slade Blackwell, dark, arresting and vital. The sight of him paralyzed Lisa, and her hand clutched the loose fold of her robe together at the waist.

Insolently, his gaze slowly traveled the length of her. She reddened as she realized her action had drawn the clinging fabric more tightly over her curves, possibly revealing that she wore nothing beneath it.

Her skin seemed to burn from the appraising caress of his eyes, mocking yet suggestive. She released the robe immediately, spreading her fingers to try to relieve the sudden, elemental tension that claimed her.

"What are you doing here?" She finally broke the silence, her voice ringing with a challenge born of embarrassment.

"I don't think it's any of your business since I'm here to see Mitzi," he replied smoothly.

"Why?"

"I told you, it's none of your business." Slade continued to study her feminine shape with an arrogant unconcern that had to have been bred into him. The almost physical touch of his gaze was having disturbing effect on her senses, but Lisa was determined not to reveal it. Being dressed—or barely dressed—as she was, was enough of a disadvantage.

"Mitzi is my aunt and that makes your presence here my business," she retorted.

"The lawyer-client relationship doesn't recognize your right." His mouth twisted cynically. "If you have one."

"Where's Mitzi?" Lisa demanded.

"She misplaced her glasses and is off looking for them." He caught her gaze and held it. "Why don't you come down and entertain me
?"

"I'm not dr—" The word "dressed" died on her lips. She was not usually so slow on the uptake. The entertainment he had meant didn't require clothes, as his throaty chuckle mockingly told her. "You're disgusting," she hissed.

But Slade appeared to ignore her insulting comment. His dark head was tipped slightly to the side, studying her with a seemingly new-found interest, puzzled and curious.

"There's something different about you," he drawled thoughtfully. "Maybe it's in your eyes, minus their sunglasses.
"

Lisa stiffened. He couldn't see the color of her eyes at this distance, not with the length of the staircase separating them. But his remark acted like a cold splash of ice water.

"There's nothing different about you!" she flashed defensively. "Tell Mitzi I'll be down when you leave."

Pivoting on her heel, she hurriedly retraced the way to her bedroom, trembling with delayed shock. That had been close, much too close.

Slade's appearance changed Lisa's mind about lounging around the house in her robe. In her room, she slipped out of the robe and put on a pair of pale yellow slacks and a blouse of a green and yellow print. She waited until she heard the front door close before venturing downstairs again. Mitzi was alone in the living room when Lisa entered it.

"You look better. How do you feel?" Mitzi walked to the wooden trolley cart and fixed Lisa a drink.

"Much better." Especially now that Slade was gone, Lisa settled into the orange-and rust-colored brocade chair. Slade's refusal to say why he had wanted to see Mitzi prompted Lisa to ask, "What did Slade want?" She didn't mention that she had spoken to him.