Undercover Pursuit (12 page)

“Huh. Yeah. I don't suppose you want to be my maid of honor?”

 

Luke looked like an albatross. He stared at himself in the mirror in Benito's bedroom on the yacht and realized he'd lost his mind.

For a second, when he saw his reflection, clad in a white suit, a gray ascot at his neck, shaven and showered, he actually saw himself standing at the altar, watching his bride—his bride?—walk down the aisle.

He imagined Scarlett's dark caramel hair piled high on her head, tendrils curling around her face, those big green eyes pinned on him, as if he might actually be her hero.

How he suddenly wanted to be, wanted to rescue her from this mess he'd created. Fired, again, from her crazy sister's wedding. Roped, one wrong word at a time, into danger, and now cajoled into marrying him.

Except he wouldn't let it get that far. No, he'd come up with a plan, something to oust her from the wedding, off the island and preferably out of Mexico.

A doozy of a fight should do it, although the ideas that entered his brain made him a little sick.

“The suit is a good fit. Perhaps a little wide around the waist.” Benito sat at his bar, nursing a drink, as his valet tried to fit Luke into Benito's clothes. “But trust me, she'll only see you.”

The guy who should have been her date? Or the guy
who had dragged her into trouble? Who would Scarlett see?

“Benito, are you really sure this a good idea? I mean, maybe she's not ready.”

“She said yes, correct?”

Yes? To what? To his mythical wedding proposal? He nodded.

“And you wouldn't ask her to marry you if you weren't ready, correct?”

Luke managed a smile.

“So, why wait? Do you love her?”

Did he love her? He nodded, but the words cut inside him. He loved the way she laughed, her eyes lighting up her entire face. He loved her spontaneity, the way she could keep up with his stories and add to them. He loved her willingness to help Lucia, and even her sister.

He loved the way she listened to him without judgment. And how she yielded in his arms.

And he loved the way she'd given him her secrets, looking at him with trust in her eyes.

Most of all, he loved how…how he trusted her back.

Yes, a part of him, the part that didn't live in a crazy world of danger and lies, the part that wanted to be just her wedding date, could easily love her.

“Of course I do,” he added to his nod.

Benito smiled. “The first time I met Lucia, I knew she would be my wife. She saw a good man in me. A man I wanted to be. She makes me feel like I am that man.” He stared out the window. “I would kill for her.”

Cold streaked down Luke's spine at Benito's words, but he just kept staring at his reflection. Suddenly, he wished he could go back to that moment when Scarlett
opened his taxi door. He should have taken one extra second to ask, to confirm.
Are you Stacey?

When she said no, he should have pushed her out of the taxi.

He raised his gaze, met Benito's in the mirror. “Me, too. Scarlett makes me feel like I'm the man I should be.”

Benito nodded and took a drink.

Yes, tonight, somehow, Luke would have to make a spectacle to make sure Scarlett hadn't a prayer of attending tomorrow's wedding. Or…

Plead with her to dump him. Publicly.

Both options made his chest clench.

“I need to find a wedding ring,” he said, leaving the suit in Benito's care. Benito gave him a strange smile as Luke left the yacht and headed down the dock, hoping to find Scarlett and Lucia.

He'd left them alone long enough. Yes, Scarlett had the pager, but without him nearby, it would offer little in the way of rescue. If either of them got hurt, he'd never forgive himself.

Not that he ever forgave himself. He just piled his mistakes on top of each other.
You need to forgive yourself, Luke.

Scarlett's words from last night wound through him. As did his retort,
I can't erase what happened.

No, his mistakes still woke him in a cold sweat.

If only he hadn't been so thirsty for a woman's laughter, her touch. Her acceptance. And that only made his realization worse. He
was
like his father. A person who let his emptiness destroy the lives of others. His father went from woman to woman, shattering their hearts, and eventually their family.

I keep waiting for Him to betray me, to walk away.
When he'd spoken those words in the darkness on the boat, he'd meant them to be about God, but they could apply to his father, too. He couldn't believe he'd actually said that, had actually let her that far inside. Thankfully, she'd been gentle.
God isn't like your father, Luke.

If he'd never forgiven his father, how could he possibly forgive himself for being just like him?

He doesn't treat us as we think we should be treated.
He wanted to flinch at the quiet accuracy of her statement. He couldn't bear to trust God's love—His forgiveness—for him. Not after his sins.

Which meant that even if he did want to imagine Scarlett in a white dress, her eyes shining as she looked at him, as she walked down the aisle, he had to purge that thought from his mind and thank God that this gig was temporary.

He could love Scarlett. In fact, he might be halfway there already.

But he didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve to be happy.

Sweat filmed his spine as he passed by the cabana and cut through the open-air bar to catch some shade.

Bridgett sat at a high-top table alone, nursing some orange drink, her blond hair piled high on her head. With her regal cheekbones and full lips, he could see her on a cover of a magazine or strutting down some runway. Suddenly he veered toward her, something hot sizzling in his chest.

“I just have to tell you something,” he said, his voice apparently running the show, the tone dark and angry.

Bridgett looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed. That might have told him something, might have sent off a warning, but he flew right past that.

“Your sister is amazing. She's funny and brave and
compassionate, but you don't see that, do you? You see the kid sister who divided your family, but you don't see what it cost her. She dropped everything to come down here and help you plan your wedding, and you're firing her because of a mistake the chef made—”

“Duncan was in love with her.” Bridgett's words, so softly spoken, stopped him cold. She ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “He just never had the courage to ask her out. But he did love her, and I stole him.” She looked up at Luke, and her eyes filled. “I stole him because I hated her. I'm not even sure why, but I blamed her for the fact that my parents always ran back and forth between us.”

Luke inhaled slowly, still trying to believe her words. “It's because you felt guilty. And you hated that feeling. So you hated her.” He wasn't exactly sure where that came from, but it felt right.

“Yeah.” She pressed her manicured fingers to her face. “I never dreamed that one agent meeting in Minneapolis would lead to so many sacrifices. Yes, a part of me loved being in the limelight. But I never expected it, and I walked into it without realizing the cost. For a long while, I thought that being in front of the camera was where I belonged, but you know, it blinds you. You always see yourself through the lens of others until…until you don't know who you are. Until you don't know yourself at all.”

Luke rested his foot on a rung of the high-top chair. “Why did you come to Rochester?”

She stared at her drink. “I fell in love with the wrong man.” She closed her eyes. “He was a photographer, and he made me feel beautiful. I don't know why I needed his love so much, but I ate up his words as if I'd
been starving for years. He told me that he wanted to marry me.”

Luke knew the rest but waited for it anyway, a fist tightening in his gut.

“But he was already married.”

Yes, that might cause someone to move across the ocean and find a life in a different town. Like Rochester.

Like Prague.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “But that doesn't give you an excuse to hurt your sister. Or marry a man you don't love.”

“But I do love Duncan. See, I started out wanting to hurt my sister for her perfect, easy life. For taking my parents from me. But then I fell in love.” She looked up at Luke, her eyes glossy again. “I love him more than I ever dreamed. He's solid and kind and he doesn't see me through a lens. Duncan doesn't need me to be any more than I am. He sees me without makeup and with all my blemishes and loves me anyway.”

“But he loved Scarlett.”

She drew in a breath. “I thought, when she confessed that she loved him at my engagement party, that he'd dump me and run back to her. So I cut her out of my life and shamed her.”

“She loves you, Bridgett. You underestimate her. She came here with a full heart to help you. I think she wants you to be happy.”

Bridgett looked up at him. “I guess I don't deserve her.”

Well, that made two of them.

“I even set her up on a blind date this weekend with one of Duncan's geeky cousins. I called it a favor. But really, I just wanted to pour salt in the wound. Who
knew that she was already engaged? I can't believe it—you two are really getting married? Tomorrow?”

And if he said no, then what? Scarlett would probably end up on the arm of Dylan from Davenport, dumped yet again.

So he said it with conviction, with so much of his heart in the words, for Scarlett and her honor. “Yes. I'm marrying your sister tomorrow at sunset.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I barely know you. Can I have your word that you won't hurt her? Won't betray her in any way?”

He dug deep and found a smile that didn't belong to him, a voice that he didn't own, and said, “Yes. You have my word.” And he knew that there would never be forgiveness for him.

“Y
ou are so beautiful.”

The words out of the salesclerk's mouth didn't have the impact that they might have if issued from Luke, but Scarlett would embrace them, because yes, she looked beautiful. She stood in her so-called wedding dress on the tiny platform that elevated her above the floor, her reflection captured in three giant mirrors that revealed all sides of her dress, as well as Lucia, seated in the viewing chairs, a grin on her face.

“I'm not getting married, you know,” Scarlett said when the salesclerk stepped away. Although as soon as she ventured into the tiny boutique of all-occasion dresses—including spur-of-the-moment wedding dresses—a switch flipped inside her brain. She started smelling flowers and hearing dance music, and she saw in her mind's eye Luke standing at the end of the aisle, grinning at her.

Her groom.

No, not her groom!

“It's all pretend, let's not forget that.”

Lucia made a face, got up and straightened the train. The dress had a fairy-tale aura about it with tiny capped sleeves, a row of pearl buttons up the back, layers of ruffles that spilled down the train. “Well, you should
be. The way Luke looks at you—if I didn't know it was all for my benefit, I would buy that you two were madly in love.”

Well, one of them might be. Wait, no. Had she really thought that? She didn't love Luke. She barely knew him. Sure, he'd come after her, listened to her, and yes, when he looked at her she could believe that she just might be the only girl on the planet. But she needed to focus on the word
pretend.
Fake. For the benefit of the mission.

“He's a good actor.”

“Apparently, so are you.”

Scarlett averted her face before Lucia spotted the truth. She could love Luke Dekker. She could quit her job—not that she had a real one—and move across the ocean with him to Prague, to start a new life. She saw herself—foolishly, she knew that—becoming his partner, maybe going undercover again, a new identity every weekend.

The ultimate temp job.

I think you have a lot of heroine inside of you.

She hated how she nearly gulped those words whole, letting them nourish her.

Luke made her feel like the main attraction, not an afterthought.

And standing here in the perfect dress didn't quelch that feeling, not at all.

The perfect—oh, no! “I have to call the airport and make sure my sister's dress has arrived. And I have to find a new location for her wedding.” She turned her back to Lucia. “Will you unzip me?” Then, to the saleslady, “I'll take it.”

“Very good. Shall I have it steamed and sent to your hotel?”

“Yes, please.” And then, before Lucia could step in and put it on Benito's account, she pulled out her credit card.

Maybe she'd simply have the hotel ship it home. A souvenir.

Lucia gave her a small smile as Scarlett signed the sales slip. “Where do people get married on this island, ma'am, other than the resorts?”

“Oh, on the North Beach, of course. And at the lighthouse on the point at the south end of the island. It's a lovely place for a wedding.”

“Thank you.” She grabbed Lucia's hand. “C'mon. We've got work to do.”

“What are we doing?”

“I can't have my sister getting married at the resort. Not with…well, with the fireworks planned. We're planning a new wedding, Lucia. And it all starts will my pal Raoul.”

She found him sweeping the walkway outside the resort. “I need your help, Raoul.”

“Anything for you,
señorita.
”

She just loved how he said that.

Of course, planning Bridgett's new wedding only stirred her own fairy tale inside, from the flowers to the cake to the musicians to the candles that would light the path up to the lighthouse.

She made a point of checking out the view, standing at the pinnacle of the south-facing cliffs, again feeling as if she could soar.

“It's even more beautiful than the view at the pavilion,” Lucia said.

“I hope Bridgett agrees. The reception yacht can pick them up at the landing below, and hopefully Raoul has lined up the limousines.”

“Yeah, all two that are on the island.”

“There aren't that many guests, so maybe they can take cabs, too. But I want the wedding party to go over in the limos before the CIA shows up.”

Lucia's smile fell.

“Sorry.”

“No. It's good for me to remember that despite all the fuss, there will be no wedding.”

There would be no wedding for either of them.

“I don't understand. Why are you doing all this for your sister? I met her—she isn't very…”

“It's okay.” Scarlett took the path up to the lighthouse, making a mental note for the florist as to where to assemble the bougainvillea arch. “Bridgett and I used to be close, but something changed when she left home to model. At first I blamed it on her busy life, but after that I decided that she just wasn't the same person. She was who they wanted her to be. I'd lost her. I guess a part of me wants to believe she's still there, that she knows that I love her, despite her changes. She's not an afterthought to me. She's a big deal.”

“That's very noble.”

Was it?

“Well, there's another part, too. See, I sort of made a spectacle at her engagement party. I accused her of stealing my boyfriend. Which of course she didn't, but it felt like it. But it made me realize that he didn't love me. At least not enough to come after me. I guess that's what I'm holding out for—the guy who will come after me.”

“Benito tracked me down after meeting me at a diplomatic reception. He waited in the lobby the next day for two hours with lilies until I passed through. I had
planned on making an impact, but I have to admit, I didn't expect to be wooed by him so easily.”

“You weren't an afterthought to him. You are a big deal.”

Lucia smiled, an expression on her face that made Scarlett want to weep. She put her arm around Lucia's tanned shoulders as they walked back to the golf cart.

By the time they returned for the rehearsal dinner, the sun had just begun to set over the resort, the palm trees inky brushes against the painted sky. They cast tufted shadows upon the lawn, and the orange-streaked sunset turned the water to burning coals. Scarlett stood on the outskirts of the pavilion and listened to the priest Benito and Lucia had hired walk them through the steps. Then, Scarlett lined up with Benito's best man, slipped her arm through his and imagined it might be Luke.

But Luke stood at the back of the pavilion, saying little. He left before the rehearsal ended.

“See you at dinner,” Lucia said after Scarlett walked back to her yacht with Benito.

Scarlett then spent a good half hour bemoaning her Minnesota wardrobe. She'd packed her only little black dress, a number she usually wore with a white blouse. But at least the color enhanced yesterday's tan. She twisted up her hair, added a pink coral necklace and slipped into a pair of heels. Not necessarily beachwear, but it would have to do.

Of course, Luke would look like a model straight out of a magazine with his burnished gold hair, those light brown eyes that missed nothing. Probably he'd smell good, too. She added a little lipstick and perfume and told herself again this wasn't a date.

Then, she made her way to the dinner.

Her sister had actually booked the deck restaurant
in the hotel for her rehearsal dinner. Music drifted out from the party, the deck lit by lanterns and luminaries. Scarlett had sent Bridgett a note via Raoul about the change of wedding ceremony venues. The fact that she hadn't shown up at the pavilion during rehearsal to duke it out with Lucia seemed a sign of success. Hopefully, Bridgett had a beautiful sunset rehearsal at the lighthouse.

God, please bless her party, her wedding.
Yes, she would like to show Bridgett that she endorsed her marriage, that she hoped Bridgett and Duncan lived happily ever after.

Really.

And if they listened to her, they actually
would
live happily ever after.

She cut down the path to the cabana at the beach, where lights strung between palm trees twinkled against the night, where luminarias glowed to light the path toward the thatched-roof picnic shelter. The spice of the grill lured her in to stand at the edge of the wooden floor where Lucia and Benito danced the salsa.

She couldn't dance.

Hopefully, Luke wouldn't ask.

“Wow, you look beautiful.”

Coming from his lips, the words took away her breath. She turned and Luke stood there, wearing a white shirt, a pair of black linen pants.

He held out his hand. “Care to dance?”

“I…I don't know how, Luke. I can't dance the salsa.”

He gave her a soft, playful smile. Oh, her romantic heart didn't stand a chance.

The song ended, the music changing beat. “This is a waltz. Just take my hand and hold on.”

“I've pretty much been doing that since we met in the cab.” Oh, for goodness' sake. But he grinned at her and led her to the dance floor. “It's a three-count. Onetwo-three, one-two-three. Start by stepping back with your right foot, and I'll take it from there.”

Ho-kay.

She stumbled, and he caught her. “Relax.”

Relax. With his hand on her upper back, holding her? But as she breathed out, she relished the safety of his arms.

They started again and she counted out her steps, stiff, jerky.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“You're trying to lead. I get that—most women are worried that we men are going to lead you someplace bad—into the chairs, or the sand. But I promise to take care of you. Close your eyes.”

“Okay.”

Then, magic happened. She stopped worrying about the steps and just let him lead her, gently, easily around the dance floor, keeping the beat, safe in his arms.

Around and around, one-two-three until she became the music and lost herself.

It ended too soon. She opened her eyes, expecting to see him smile.

But he almost seemed in pain, his eyes dark. “I'm so sorry, Scarlett, for what I'm about to do.”

Then he backed away from her, and in a voice that didn't seem to belong to the man she'd come to know, a voice that he must have conjured, said, “Why didn't you tell me you were still in love with your old boyfriend?”

Oh, please, let this be fake. She couldn't bear the
thought that all the rest had been pretend and this, this man who spat out venom, might be real.

Might be the true Luke Dekker.

Because this wasn't the man she'd fallen in love with at all.

 

“My old boyfriend? What do you mean I'm still in love with my old boyfriend?” Her voice emerged as if through broken glass, halting, crisp.

He knew it would hurt her, knew that dragging up Duncan would only make it personal, make her react with real emotions.

Real hurt.

Real betrayal.

But hopefully those real emotions would also convince Benito, and send her packing from Lucia's wedding tomorrow.

So he went for the jugular, despite the fact that the look on her face could tear him in half. “Yeah, your
boyfriend,
Duncan. The guy I just ran into, the one who told me he wants you back. That he is
still in love with you.
”

“But…Duncan never loved me—”

“Not like me, of course. But there is no figuring out love, is there, baby?” He raised his voice and cast his gaze around the crowd.
C'mon Scarlett, play along.

She backed away from him, her mouth opening, her face white. “I…when did he tell you this?”

Oh, no, she didn't really believe him, did she?

“Earlier today, while you were out buying your wedding dress. I ran into him, and we had a little heart-to-heart. He told me how your sister stole him away from you, but how he's come to his senses. How he loves you
and wants you back. But you already knew that, didn't you?”

Her eyes widened and he hated the lie. And the fact he told it so convincingly. But great lies were built on truths. He'd just changed the name Bridgett to Duncan.

Still, the fact that Duncan had loved her hadn't been a lie, and he didn't know exactly how he felt about the fact that the guy might indeed still carry a torch for the girl he…

Loved. Oh, no. He'd been dodging that truth all day but he finally landed on the emotion bubbling inside. Love. He loved Scarlett. And he was about to eviscerate her in public. “And, according to Duncan, you love him, too. You even tried to break up your sister's wedding to prove it.” Please, don't flinch, Scarlett.

He forced himself not to look away, despite the look on her face.

“But…I don't love Duncan.”

“Please. He's here, on the island.”

“Well, of course he is, but—”

“And earlier today you were in his villa, when you should have been home, seasick.”

“What? I was—”

“I don't want to hear any more. Just stop with the lies, Scarlett. I thought we had something. I thought—” and he didn't want to admit it, but this part came right from the real Luke Dekker—“I thought we really had something that we could build on. I saw our future in your eyes, and I knew that you were the only person I would ever risk being with.” Could he say the next part? “And now…you destroyed that.”

Her eyes filled, her hand pressed to her mouth. She shook her head, almost pleading, and with everything
inside him he wanted to yank back his words. But he had to seal the deal.

For Scarlett's sake.

For Lucia's sake.

For the sake of the mission.

It would help, however, if Scarlett confessed, even played along.

“I'm sorry I ever met you,” he said, dropping his voice to a growl. “I'm sorry I ever loved you.” He swallowed hard, then spit the last words out, hating himself. “You weren't worth my time.”