Low Country Liar (13 page)

"The Citadel?"

"Yes. I've been saving Old Charleston to see with Mitzi. She's used it and the Low Country of South Carolina so often as backdrops for her romances that I'm sure she would know all sorts of unique things about it. But tell me about Rainbow Row," she urged, wanting to get away from any detailed discussion about how she'd spent her time the past few days.

"The oldest house here dates from the 1740s. They're private residences, very much in demand. In the eighteenth century, this was the waterfront district. The different colors are a trademark, a means to set each one apart."

Passing the row of colorful houses, he turned at the corner. Lisa had the sensation of slipping into the past. With the buildings and houses shadowed by the night and few cars on the narrow streets, the modern touches seemed to be hidden from view, steeping the night in history.

Making another turn, Slade directed her attention to the house on the left. "The Heyward-Washington house, one of the places entitled to claim that 'George Washington slept here.' Thomas Heyward Jr. was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence." Lisa had barely focused on the shadow-dimmed exterior when he pointed at something else. "Does that look familiar to you?"

"Vaguely," she admitted, wishing now the tour wasn't being made in the semidarkness. In the daylight she might recognize why it was familiar. Instead she had to ask, "Where have I seen it?"

"Porgy and Bess, the operetta. Cabbage Row inspired the setting for it. There used to be vegetable stands along the sidewalk, hence its name."

They drove down more streets, past more historic points of interest. It was a tour Lisa would have to make again by daylight. There was too much to see, but she was glad the first time had been by night. It had made the antique charm of the old section of the city come to life, its early glory more than just imagination.

She gazed silently out the window as Slade made another turn. She recognized the street, having walked it every day to his office. Her aunt's house was just off this street. Her gaze settled on a white mansion set back from the street, protected by lace grillwork and shadowed by massive guardian oaks, draped with Spanish Moss.

"Of all the mansions in Old Charleston, I think that one is the loveliest," she told Slade.

"Which one?"

"The one there," she pointed. "We're just approaching it."

"Would you like a closer look?" A half smile touched his mouth as he darted, a questing look.

"Sure," Lisa agreed, thinking he meant that he would drive closer to the curb so she could have a better look at the mansion by night. Instead he turned the car in through the grillwork gates. "What are you doing?"

"You said you wanted a closer look," he mocked.

"Yes, but I didn't mean this close. Heavens, I walk by it every day—"

"You walk by it," his quiet voice immediately seized on her statement.

Lisa could have bit off her tongue. She blamed it on too much wine. She had been lulled into a false sense of security. She had to remember that Slade was still her adversary.

"Yes," she added with what had to be her millionth lie, "on my way to meet Susan and Peg. They usually pick me up at the corner." Even though his lean features were slightly shadowed, she could still see the twist of skepticism about his mouth. "We can't stop here," she protested as he stopped the car near the front entrance of the large white house.

"I know the owners very well," Slade insisted. "They won't mind if you have a look inside."

"There's no one home." The windows were dark, but it didn't bother Slade as he climbed out of the car and walked to Lisa's door.

"They're away, but they left the key with me," he explained helping a confused and uncertain Lisa from the car.

"One of your clients?"

"More or less. I handle legal matters from time to time, but I've known them for years." His hand at her elbow guided her up the three steps to the door. Taking a key from his pocket, he inserted it in the lock and opened the door, switching on a light just inside the door before stepping back to let Lisa walk in first. "The house is closed up until fall, so the furniture has all been covered. But you can get an idea of the layout."

The oak floor of the foyer was polished to a high sheen. Ornate plaster cornices rimmed the ceiling. Light gleamed from the delicate crystal sconces on walls lined with paintings.

Still feeling like a trespasser, Lisa tentatively moved closer to inspect them. Her eyes widened at the first, a portrait of a man with raven hair and dark eyes, dressed in old-world clothes. Slade was just behind her and she pivoted to face him.

"The owners, they're relatives of yours," she accused.

"My parents," he smiled.

"Why didn't you tell me instead of letting me think that—"
Lisa didn't voice the rest of her demanding question. She knew exactly how she would have ended it: something to the effect that the owners were more people he was systematically stealing from. For some reason she just didn't want to introduce that subject to their conversation. It was true, the wine had mellowed her somehow. It had taken the sharpness from her tongue and she didn't want to argue with him.

"Were you thinking the worst?" he mocked.

"Never mind. It doesn't matter." Lisa turned away, forcing the irritation she didn't understand from her voice. "Would you show me around?"

Despite the white sheets covering the furniture, there was a warmth to the house. Their footsteps echoed hollowly on the wood floors as they toured the rooms of the lower floor and followed the freestanding spiral staircase to the second. Yet the house didn't seem really empty.

"Don't your parents spend much time here?"

"Not any more—not since my father bought the farm," Slade admitted. "They spend all but the late autumn and early winter months there."

"He moved to the farm shortly after you joined the law practice, didn't he?" Lisa mused absently.

"Yes," Slade paused, his head tilting curiously. "How did you know?"

"Mitzi mentioned it to me, I guess." She shrugged, covering her slip with a lie. "Did you live here?"

"All my life." Slade started walking, his hand at her back drawing her with him.

"Why don't you live here now?" She looked at him curiously. "I mean," she laughed self-consciously, "it seems a shame for this beautiful old house to be empty for even a day."

"It's too big for one man."

"Yes, it's a family house," Lisa agreed, thinking of the numerous bedrooms meant for a brood of dark-haired, dark-eyed children. "Where do you live?"

"In the slave quarters behind the house," he told her. "We remodeled the building into a small bachelor apartment when I was in college. It's become quite popular to renovate the old quarters into apartments and rent them. Profitable, too."

"I suppose the next thing you'll do is invite me to your apartment. Every bachelor has a collection of etchings to show." Lisa said it in jest.

A roguish glint danced wickedly in his eyes. "Would you like to see my apartment?"

"Of course not." Her foot faltered on the stairstep. "It's just a standard bachelor line, isn't it?"

"So I've heard," Slade agreed. "But it's been so sadly overworked that no one uses it any more."

"That's good, because it's late, and I don't want Mitzi worrying about me. I'd better be getting back." Before I end up in water over my head, Lisa added silently. She was becoming much too friendly with Slade, the wrong kind of friendly. If she was going to be nice to him, it should be with the intention of getting information from him and not just to make small talk. He was making her lose sight of her goal.

"At least you have the advantage over me," Slade commented as they walked through the foyer to the font door. "You're on vacation and can sleep late in the morning. I have to be in the office first thing, which means getting up early."

"So do I." Lisa realized what she had said and rushed to covet it. "Not to be in the office, of course, but I'm meeting Peg and Susan first thing
in the morning."

"Again? I thought you were here to visit Mitzi."

"I am, but she's in the middle of a book. It's silly for me to hang around the house every day waiting for her to finish. I might as well enjoy myself." She sounded more defensive than she wanted, but it couldn't be helped. "It is my vacation. Besides, I have the weekend to spend with Mitzi."

"Then you can act the dutiful and devoted niece, is that it?"

Her mouth opened to protest the tinge of sarcasm in his voice, but she caught herself in time. "I think I can play the role as effectively as you play yours as the loyal attorney."

The last light was switched off, throwing the mansion into darkness. Lisa waited at the steps while Slade locked the door. When he joined her, she started to descend the steps to the car, but his hand caught at her arm to stop her.

"I'm almost sorry the truce is over." He seemed to make the admission reluctantly.

Lisa agreed, but she wouldn't admit it. "You started it."

"You didn't waste any time making a retort."

"Did you expect me to turn the other cheek?"

"Would it have hurt you?" Slade countered.

His saturnine face was shadowed by the night darkness and Lisa couldn't see how much of his regret was mockery and how much of it was sincere.

"If you must know, yes, it would have," she returned sharply.

"We can't keep insulting each other if we're going to be partners."

"Who said we were going to be?" Lisa retorted. "I'm not convinced that I need you."
 

"Yes, you are. It just sticks in your craw to admit it." There was no mistaking the complacency in his tone. He was utterly sure of himself and Lisa.

"Maybe it's the other way around." She stubbornly resisted making the admission even though she knew she would eventually. Once Slade believed that she was on his side, he would confide exactly how he was obtaining Mitzi's money. "Maybe you need me more than I need you and you don't want to admit it."

"But I already have—when I made the proposal that we should work together," he reminded her. "What do you say? Are we partners?"

"I'd like to think about it." Now why did she say that? Lisa wondered. Did she want to make him sweat a little?

"What is there to think about? You know you've already made up your mind." He seemed to find her resistance amusing and futile.

"Maybe I have." Lisa tipped her head challengingly to one side, her silver blond hair shimmering in the faint light. "Maybe I've decided the answer is no. Did you think of that?"

He drew his head back, the angle faintly mocking, and she saw the corners of his mouth deepening. "If your answer was an outright no, you wouldn't have come with me tonight. You would have told me at the gardens to get lost. But you didn't. That means the answer is yes."

Lisa glanced away, her lips thinning. "You're very sure of yourself," she commented with irritation.

"No."
His thumb and forefinger captured her chin and turned her back to face him. "I'm sure of you and the way your mind works."

His insolence was beyond belief, but it was the shiver of feeling evoked by his touch that claimed her. It rippled down her spine in tiny shock waves. Her throat was dry, incapable of speech.

Damn the wine, she thought. It was making her light-headed. The ground seemed unsteady beneath her feet, as if she was aboard a floating boat. Slade stood so tall and steady before her that she wanted to sway against his solidness and regain her equilibrium. It was the craziest sensation because she knew she was imagining all of it.

His gaze narrowed on her face, dark brows drawing together. His dark eyes seemed to physically touch each feature, inspecting, faintly caressing until they halted on her lips, softened in curious vulnerability. Slade bent his head toward her, then stopped as if waiting for a protest from Lisa.

There was a fevered awareness that he was going to kiss her and an equally shocking discovery that she wanted him to. This ambivalence toward him was insane, but she made not the slightest sound to stop him. His dark head began moving again, closing the distance until there was none.

The brush of his hard mouth against hers drew a tiny gasp, as her nerves tensed in shock. Lightly he explored the lips he had once plundered, sensually feeling his way. An eyebrow was quirked in puzzled surprise when he raised his head. Her lips were tingling with pleasure from his caressing kiss.

"It's crazy," she murmured, voicing the bewilderment she felt.

"Yes," Slade agreed, not needing to ask what she meant.

"I don't even like you," she added.

"I know."

His hand left her chin to spear his fingers through the spun silver of her hair at the back of her neck, tilting her head to meet his descending mouth. Her lips parted instinctively on contact, a golden storm of sensations racing through her body at his possession. There was nothing tentative in his kiss this time, and she felt the shuddering response she made to his demand.

Abruptly Slade drew away, frowning as he looked down at her. There was a hardness to the line of his jaw, a checked anger in his expression. Shaken by her reaction, Lisa turned away, trying to stop the leaping of her senses.