Bait & Switch (7 page)

“So, Grant, what did you set your mind to?” she asked.

Grant. She’d called him Grant.

Everything about their strange conversation fell into place. No wonder he hadn’t recognized her. Their parents and sent Cary and Mitch to different schools so they could establish themselves as individuals. They’d developed separate interests and unconnected sets of friends. Leeza had obviously attended Hatfield High with his brother, not Americana with him.

Still, she must not have been very well acquainted with Mitch to call him by his given name. Moreover, people who knew them didn’t generally confuse them. They had different styles, not only in speech but dress. Except Cary had borrowed some of his brother’s clothes because he hadn’t packed enough warm-weather clothes when he’d headed for Atlanta.

“You don’t understand,” he said, “I’m not—”

The admiration in her eyes stopped him from finishing. He’d already guessed she’d had an unrequited thing for his brother in high school.

“You’re not what?” she asked.

Telling her he wasn’t Mitch no longer seemed like such a good idea. Despite their nearly identical appearance, Cary was as different from his brother as catsup from salsa. If Leeza was in awe of his twin, she wouldn’t admire him.

“I’m not as successful as you think I am,” Cary said.

“I find that hard to believe. What do you do?”

Cary made his decision. “I’m a cop in Atlanta.”

“Such a noble profession,” Leeza said. “I bet you’re great at it.”

Cary started to confirm her observation, then considered how Mitch might respond. “I do okay. Hey, why don’t we have dinner together tonight and catch up?”

Her mouth dropped open. To say yes, he was sure.

“Sorry,” Leeza said, “but I have a prior engagement.”

Her perfectly logical explanation sounded like an excuse. Except that didn’t make sense, not if he’d read Leeza’s feelings for his brother correctly.

He whipped out his BlackBerry, pressed a few buttons and handed it to her. “Enter your cell number and we’ll take a rain check.”

Her hesitation was so brief he might have imagined it. She took the phone and did as he asked. He made sure to brush her fingers with his when she handed the phone back to him.

“I’ll be in touch, Leeza Drinkmiller,” he said.

His brother might strike out with women, but Cary didn’t. Not even when he was disguised as Mitch.

Lizabeth’s goose bumps wouldn’t have been so obvious if the sun weren’t beating down on the deck of the twenty-four-foot cabin cruiser. Or if she’d been wearing more clothes.

She shifted and artfully arranged the fashionable sarong she’d tied loosely at the waist the way the sales clerk back in Richmond had demonstrated.

The clerk had convinced Lizabeth she had the figure to wear the itty bitty red bikini that left so much of her pale skin exposed. Lizabeth wasn’t so sure. Especially now, when the love of her teen years sat across the boat.

She’d been so thrown off guard yesterday when he’d invited her to dinner that she’d refused, then fought panic that she might have blown her only chance to spend time with him.

Just in case she got another, last night she’d spent hours alone in her hotel room in front of a mirror trying out her new, bold persona. She’d tossed her hair, perfected her laugh and walked across the room over and over until the book on top of her head stopped falling off.

This morning, when Grant phoned to ask if she’d like to snorkel the coral reef, she’d barely stopped herself from shouting her acceptance. Instead, she’d let loose a tinkling laugh. “That would be utterly divine,” she said.

Lizabeth was to swimming what lead was to liquid, but Leeza could fake it. To keep Grant’s interest, her alter ego would pretend to be a mermaid.

“It’s too bad you forgot to pack your PADI certification,” Grant called over the hum of the outboard motor. “I hear the scuba diving around here is awesome.”

“It can’t be better than it was in Aruba.” She hoped she sounded worldly and sophisticated. “The water’s so clear the fish can see their reflection.”

He laughed. “You get around, don’t you?”

“Hmmmm,” she said, because she didn’t want to lie. Not that she was lying. Exactly. She wasn’t a world traveler, but Aruba was the site of the only exotic vacation she’d ever taken.

Yes, she’d spent a large chunk of her time there in a darkened hotel room recovering from a horrific sunburn. But one of her travel buddies had raved about the diving.

She was fortunate Grant had misinterpreted her declaration that she didn’t have her PADI certification to mean she forgot to pack it. Leeza would know how to dive.

On this trip, she couldn’t act like herself. Grant wouldn’t have chartered a boat for boring, ordinary Lizabeth. He wouldn’t be eager to share the blue skies and the azure seas with someone as colorless as Lizabeth.

 
She tossed her head the way she imagined a practiced flirt might, but the wind caught her hair. Long strands flew into her eyes and all over her face. She frantically swiped at her face, imagining she looked like an overgrown Yorkshire Terrier.

“Let me help.” Grant slid across the bench seat until he was next to her. She heard something tear and then able hands were in her hair, pulling the messy mop back from her face.

He bestowed on her a heartthrob’s grin that illuminated his eyes so she couldn’t tell whether the sparkle was the sun’s reflection or simply Grant’s inner light. He was wearing a short-sleeved plaid shirt he’d left unbuttoned over his swim trunks, and his glorious, hair-roughened chest was within drooling range.

Be cool, she told herself, even as heat enveloped her. He was even more of a hunk than he’d been in high school. His hair was a rich ebony and a lock of it swirled to the left. Funny, in her mental picture of him, his hair curled right. No matter. As long as he were here beside her, she wouldn’t care if he shaved his hair off. Even bald, he’d be gorgeous.

“Here, let me.” He turned her by her bare shoulders so that her back was to him. Masculine fingers grazed her scalp as he gathered her hair at her nape and secured it. She prayed he wouldn’t notice the blush she felt creeping up her neck.

“There,” he said, and she felt his breath on her newly bare neck. He rubbed at the goosebumps on her shoulders, and she gritted her teeth against the sensations dancing through her. “Are you cold?”

She was so overheated she ought to jump into the Atlantic to cool off. She affected one of the airy head tosses she’d practiced in front of the mirror. Say something sophisticated, she told herself.

“Did you know that the Star of Africa is the largest cut diamond in existence?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“Could you imagine trying to wear something like that on your finger?” She should shut up but couldn’t stop talking. “I suppose that’s why it’s set in the British royal scepter instead of any of the Queen’s rings.”

His hands still rested on her shoulder. He turned her so she had to face him. She bravely met his amused eyes and silently cursed herself. As a research librarian, her mind was full of stray facts. She didn’t need to spew them like a geyser gone amok. He must think her a total fool.

“You’re a gem, Leeza Drinkmiller.” He leaned forward slightly and kissed her lightly on the mouth. The sensation was so vivid she could feel the imprint of his lips even after he removed them.

She gathered her poise and managed a cool smile although she was nearly giddy with relief. “I try to be on the cutting edge.”

His hands dropped from her shoulder. Without him touching her, she could think more clearly. She patted the back of her head. “What did you use to tie my hair?”

He held up the tail of his frayed shirt.

“You ripped your shirt? But it looks brand new!”

“It was worth it to get that hair out of your beautiful face.” The shirt did seem new, but it was Mitch’s style, not his. His brother would probably choose to be buried in a muted plaid suit. “I’d give you the shirt off my back if you asked.”

A soft, shy light appeared in her eyes that was gone too soon. She tossed her head and trilled her laugh. Her lips curved upward. “Remind me to ask you later.”

It was a siren’s line that filled him with a vague, inexplicable disappointment. He liked it better when she nervously spouted stray facts about industrial-sized diamonds.

“You can bet I will.” He stared directly into her eyes until she looked away. Again, he thought he detected a hint of shyness. But maybe she was disappointed he’d used so obvious a line. The Boy Scout wouldn’t say something like that.

Cary leaned back against the leather bench seat that lined the front of the boat, the wind whipping through his hair. If he wanted to keep Leeza’s interest, he’d have to act more like Mitch.

But why was a woman like Leeza interested in his brother anyway? With her flamboyant wardrobe and worldly air, she was more his type than his twin’s. Aside from the anomaly back in Charleston that was Peyton, Cary stuck to women more keen on style than substance.

In her red bikini and sarong with her toenails painted a matching color, Leeza was nothing if not stylish.

“Your reef’s over there,” their charter boat captain yelled from the marine head. He pointed to a spot in the distance where a pair of boats bobbed on the sea.

Other outfits had fancier boats and better prices. Cary chose the U.S.S. Surprise when he found out the charter captain’s name was Turk. He was a tiny bit freaked when he discovered Captain Turk had a dog named Questie and the floor-to-ceiling poster of Sprock in his cabin was a little spooky, but, hey, it was working out.

The good captain wasn’t charging them for the trip. In exchange for the charter and a couple hundred bucks, Cary had agreed to transport crates of goods for him from Key West to Miami. The caveat was that he not ask what the crates contained. He didn’t want to know, anyway.

“Don’t ya think it would be neat if I could beam you over there?” Captain Turk called.

Leeza put on a pair of trendy sunglasses that had points vaguely reminiscent of Sprock’s ears. “What does he mean? Beam us there?”

“He’s one of those Star Quest fanatics,” Cary said in a low voice.

“Don’t you mean Star Trek?”

“Nah. Turk’s not too fond of Star Trek but he’s nuts about Star Quest, which was one of those rip-off series that only lasted one season. His real name’s not even Turk. Under interrogation, he confessed it was Irving.”

“How fascinating.” Leeza crossed one long leg over the other. If Cary hadn’t been so focused on her shapely calf, he might have thought to get out of the way. The toe of her high-heeled sandal collided with his shin.

“Ow,” he said.

Her hands flew to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I am such a klutz.”

Her mouth formed a perfect, distressed O. He was about to reassure her that he liked her just the way she was, klutzy or not.

“I didn’t mean that,” she interjected. “I’m not usually clumsy at all. I’m actually quite. . . poised.”

The smile pulling at his lips faded. He’d kind of liked the thought of her with a flaw, because, as far as he could see, she didn’t have one. But then, he knew next to nothing about her. Usually, that didn’t matter. With Leeza, it did.

“Don’t tell me you’re a dancer on a chorus line.”

“A dancer?” Lizabeth wet her lips. A sign of nerves or a come on? “Why would you think that?”

He rubbed his shin again. “You kick like a pro.”

She laughed. “I’m not a dancer.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a—” Lizabeth stopped short of revealing the mind-numbing truth. She couldn’t tell him she spent her life in front of a computer, searching for information.

“Doctor?” he guessed.

She shook her head, content to have him supply her with a profession. He was sure to come up with something better than she could.

“Lawyer?”

Another shake of the head.

“Indian chief?”

She dissolved into laughter. “Be serious.”

“Okay.” He considered her carefully. “It has to be something that takes style, panache, brains.” He snapped his fingers. “I know. A buyer for a department store. You’re constantly traveling to New York for private fashion shows.”

Lizabeth nearly let out a big, fat chortle. She started to shake her head, then stopped. Nobody had ever looked at her the way Grant was looking at her. As though he found her exciting and interesting.

“You’re amazing,” she said. “That’s exactly right.”

His eyes widened. “Man, I’m good.”

The motor on the Surprise slowed, then sputtered to a stop, leaving the boat bobbing on its own wake. Captain Turk hopped down from the bridge, picked up an anchor and hoisted it overboard. Now that the boat wasn’t generating a breeze, the sun felt hot on her skin.

“This is it.” Captain Turk smoothed back immovable hair arranged in a familiar style. Lizabeth also recognized the too-tight shirt he wore with unfashionable black pants. She’d never watched Star Quest, but aside from the chartreuse shade of his shirt he was dressed like Captain Kirk on Star Trek.

“I bring most people out here to dive,” Captain Turk said, “but the reef’s close enough to the surface in places that it works for snorkeling.”

Grant rose and held out a hand, making her feel like Cinderella to his Prince Charming. Only Grant was holding out a black flipper instead of a glass slipper. “Let me help you put this on.”

It wasn’t difficult to smile considering he was looking at her with that charming half-grin. But no way was Lizabeth taking off her sarong and jumping into the water, no matter how blue and inviting it looked.

“The sun feels so heavenly I’d like to sit here and bask in it for a while,” she said. “You go ahead.”

His smile faded. “You sure?”

Sure? She could barely swim. Besides, she’d seen
Jaws
. Of course she was sure. “Positively certain.”

“Okay, but it would be more fun if you were with me,” Grant said. He stripped the shirt off his well-shaped shoulders. Golden hair lightly dusted a muscular chest that rippled at the stomach. Lizabeth’s breath snagged. Glory halleluia. The man was magnificent.