Fake I.D. Wife Page 11

  Her pulse rushed through her in unison with his. And though he continued to embrace her, it didn’t steady.

  She chanced a look at him. The gray of his eyes had gone dark so they smudged with the black of his pupils. In the low light, she couldn’t separate the one from the other.

  And then they blurred as they moved closer. Her heart skipped a beat when Logan dipped his head and suddenly his lips were locked with hers, his tongue seeking a way into her mouth. She opened for him and stood on tiptoe so his entrance was smooth and easy.

  For one blessed moment, she forgot about everything but that kiss and his arms around her. He was pulling her closer, tighter to him, so that her breasts flattened against his chest, so that her pelvis fitted into his, her softness to his hardness.

  Hazily, she realized what that meant. How much he wanted her. How much she wanted him.

  His hands slid down her back below her waist to capture her derriere and scoop her into him. Her thighs opened slightly, enough to let the length of his erection settle against her. Even through their layers of clothing, she felt a growing excitement, a tension that demanded action. Groaning into her mouth, he rocked her, and wetness pooled between her thighs.

  But this was mindless, she told herself. A way to bury what she didn’t want to think about.

  The last man with whom she’d made love had been her husband Brian….

  And this would be lust, not love.

  Going further wouldn’t be fair. Not to him. Not to her.

  The unsettled feeling grew until, at last, she ended it, shoving her palms against Logan’s chest to push him away.

  They were both breathing hard.

  “Elise—”

  “No! Don’t say anything!” she pleaded, remembering she’d never had a chance to mourn Brian properly. What had she been thinking to let her attraction to Logan go as far as it had? “Let’s pretend this never happened.”

  It would be better that way, she told herself. No attachments. She didn’t want to hook up with anyone. Not even with Logan.

  In one short week, she would be gone from this place and from his life forever.

  Chapter Nine

  Entering the playroom, Minna immediately checked her disgust. The supposed nanny was on the couch reading a magazine, ignoring her grandson who sat on the floor alone, paging through his favorite book.

  “Petra, if you wish to remain employed, perhaps you should pay attention to your charge.”

  The recent Polish import said, “He doesn’t want nothing but look this book of his.”

  “Then, look at it with him.” Minna knew that Petra’s language skills were barely adequate, that she had a better handle on the pictures than on the actual words on a page.

  “I’m sick of this book.”

  Minna was sick of the book, as well, for it reminded her of Elise and her mother Susan, who hadn’t let dear little Eric forget the tramp he called Mama. On her weekly visits, Susan Kaminsky had read that damn book to him incessantly. Thankfully, the harridan was in Florida and out of their hair, hopefully for good.

  At the moment, Minna was even more sick of Petra, who too often left the four-year-old boy to his own devices. Time to find a new nanny. Not that a new one necessarily promised to be any better. Servants didn’t know their place anymore.

  “Eric, would you like Grandmother to read to you?”

  “Okay.”

  A bright child full of smiles, her grandson rose from the floor immediately.

  “You may take a break,” she told Petra.

  The nanny escaped the room, magazine clutched in hand, and Minna took a seat on the couch.

  “Come here, my darling boy.”

  He was next to her in a flash, standing on the couch, throwing his arms around her neck in an unseemly fashion.

  Minna didn’t mind. Young Eric was the center of her world, now that his father was gone. Someday he would be the political leader his father had been meant to be. Her thoughts flashed to Kyle, to the gubernatorial race that her firstborn would undoubtedly win since Illinois traditionally elected a Republican governor—but the thoughts didn’t stick.

  Sadly, Kyle would go no further, being that he was no replacement for Brian.

  She smoothed the blond curls away from her grandson’s forehead. He looked exactly like his father had at that age. Grief over Brian’s loss suddenly flooded her as it hadn’t done for nearly a year now, but she stoically pushed away the emotion that wouldn’t bring back her favored son.

  “Now, where were we?” she asked, letting Eric open the book.

  Suddenly a flash of the new neighbor looking at the book with him came to her, and she had to push that annoyance away, too.

  Normally frightened of strangers, Eric had taken to this one from the word go. And that woman was underfoot every time she turned around, Minna thought. She’d already brought over some of the auction items on both Saturday and Sunday, and each time young Eric had found his way out of the playroom as if especially to see her. At this rate, he might get attached, and that would never do. Figuring out how to handle the situation was complicated.

  Minna’s annoyance increased threefold when, just as she started reading to her grandson, the bell at the garden door chimed. That could be only one person, she knew, instantly steaming.

  Suddenly Eric slid down along the couch on his stomach. From somewhere he’d fetched one of his toy cars and was running it up the side.

  “Stop squirming, or I won’t read to you,” Minna warned him.

  “Okay.”

  But rather than straightening himself out as she’d expected him to do, he popped off the couch and skipped away from her, toy car still in hand.

  Minna gaped. “Eric!”

  By the time she found her voice, he was out the door. Setting down the book, she followed her grandson out to the landing. He was already darting down the stairs, running the toy car along the rail.

  Indeed, that woman was handing Diane an overloaded shopping bag. Quite the busy bee, Minna thought, her gaze narrowing as, below, Nicole turned to greet the boy.

  The way that woman’s face lit when she saw Eric made Minna see red….

  WHILE SIPPING A CUP OF TEA and going over the auction item list with Diane, Elise kept a surreptitious eye on Eric. Her son was sitting on the floor, singing softly to himself and playing with a single toy car. Every so often, he would look up at her and give her a shy smile. And every time he did, Elise’s heart melted until it was practically puddling at her feet.

  “You’re certainly efficient, Nicole,” Diane said, setting down the folder. “Perhaps you ought to be in charge of the auction next year.”

  “How good of you to say so,” Elise softly drawled. “I’m sure it would be my pleasure.”

  A movement caught her eye—Eric zooming the car in a big circle, as if he were trying to get their attention.

  “Eric, you know your toys belong in the playroom,” Diane said. “Go put your car away and wash your hands. It’s almost time for dinner.”

  “Okay.” Sighing, he rose, car in hand, and headed out the room toward the stairs.

  Throat tightening, Elise watched him go.

  “Eric is a good boy,” Diane said. “And so sweet. I love him so much it hurts sometimes.”

  A statement that took Elise aback. And Diane’s expression left her speechless. The woman was either a very good actress, or she meant every word.

  Apparently Diane was having a weak moment, because she said, “Unfortunately, I can’t have children of my own, but I feel as if Eric really is mine. Someday soon he will be, when the adoption goes through.”

  Elise didn’t know how to respond. Thankfully, the nanny chose then to storm into the room.

  “I leave now, Missus, and your husband, he say no.”

  Kyle followed close on her heels. “Diane, didn’t you tell me you’d arranged for her to watch Eric tonight?”

  “Yes, of course I did as you asked,” Diane assured him. She turned to th
e nanny. “Petra, surely you didn’t forget about our arrangement.”

  The girl shrugged and stared at her nails. “I sorry, Missus, but I go.”

  Petra didn’t wait, but flew from the room so fast that Elise wondered if she would be back.

  “What brilliant plan can you put into action now?” Kyle demanded, obviously not caring that he was berating his wife in front of a neighbor. “You know how important this fund-raiser is to me!”

  Elsie noted her brother-in-law’s face was red and his hands were balled into fists at his sides.

  “I’m sure Carol wouldn’t mind staying behind.”

  “I would mind,” he returned. “This is a very significant night for the campaign. I need my whole family behind me. And Danny DeSalvo would be very disappointed if Carol didn’t show up.”

  “Danny DeSalvo is married.”

  “Which is none of your business!” Kyle’s expression was thunderous when he said, “Make other arrangements!”

  Diane flushed. “All right. I’ll call the service, see what they can do.”

  Elise noted how Diane’s eyes looked watery and her hand shook when she reached for the phone.

  Already seeing the unexpected opportunity here, Elise mused, “So you need a sitter for tonight.”

  “I’m afraid so. And it’s so late, I don’t see how…” Diane shook her head and started to punch in the number.

  “Wait. I’m available.”

  Diane stopped, finger poised in midair. “Oh, I couldn’t impose.” But her voice held a note of hope.

  “I insist. I like Eric. He’s a charming little boy. Besides, he has to get to sleep early, so how much trouble could he be?”

  “He won’t be any trouble at all,” Diane assured her. “You really don’t mind?”

  “Really. After all, I need experience, don’t I?” she asked flippantly. “I hope to have a little one of my own someday soon.” Soon—when she and Eric were reunited as mother and son.

  Diane put down the phone. “Bless you for getting me off the hook, Nicole. You have no idea how angry Kyle gets when he feels thwarted.”

  Flushed with her success, Elise actually felt giddy. “Well, then, he can just calm down, because you have nothing whatsoever to worry about,” she lied.

  “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DO anything foolish, are you?” Logan asked, after Elise told him about her volunteering to sit for Eric that night.

  Out on the deck, they were reclining on padded loungers, enjoying the lake view, along with the pasta and salad he’d made for dinner. They both had the night off from work since it was one of the slow nights at the club.

  “Foolish?” she echoed, licking tomato sauce from her lips. “As in, telling him I’m his mother?”

  “As in, trying to run with him.”

  A visible flush stole up her neck as she set down her plate on the table at her side and rose. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do either. Not yet. He’s only five. He doesn’t know me yet and he wouldn’t understand. I don’t intend to frighten him if I can help it.” She began to pace as if she couldn’t control her nerves. “What kind of a mother do you take me for?”

  “One who loves her son enough to do anything for him.”

  Certain that she would run with Eric at the first real opportunity, Logan wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. He needed Elise to help him prove his case.

  And, God help him, he was beginning to need her in other, more personal ways, as well. They’d developed an awkward level of intimacy with each other. He wanted to deepen the connection, and even if she wanted to pretend nothing had happened between them the other night, something had.

  Something more than physical attraction.

  “Don’t worry about tonight,” she said. “I’ve never been known for my spontaneity. I like to plan things out.”

  “And when you formulate this plan of yours,” he said, twirling the last of his linguine around his fork, “do you intend to tell me about it?”

  He took the last bite, then set down his plate and rose, as well.

  Elise was facing the lake, her back to him. She was dressed in trousers and a cotton pullover rather than one of Cass’s fancy dresses tonight, but to Logan, this woman couldn’t be more appealing. Despite the potential consequences to herself, she was determined to do whatever it took to protect her son. He wanted to gather her in his arms and hold her and tell her everything would be all right. Only, he didn’t know if they would be.

  “The fewer people who know what I intend to do, the better,” she said softly.

  “I’m not just ‘people.’ Nor is Cass, nor Gideon. We’re all involved.”

  “I’ll pay everyone back for helping me—the clothes, the IDs, whatever—as soon as I get my hands on the money.”

  Which sounded like she knew how she could, Logan thought. He drew closer. A breeze off the lake inundated him with her scent—a touch of ginger mixed with her own earthy personal fragrance.

  “It’s not a matter of money, Elise,” Logan said. “No one expects you to pay us back.” She’d told him to forget about the kiss, but he couldn’t. The memory obsessed him. “We put ourselves on the line for you. We could all be in big trouble with the authorities if things don’t go right. And that’s what we want to do, make things right for you.”

  And damn if he didn’t. His initial motivation may have been self-centered, but he hadn’t known Elise then. Now convinced she was innocent, he had to stop pretending that what happened to her didn’t matter as long as he accomplished what he himself had set out to do. Now he was caught in an emotional tug-of-war, part of him wanting to see her free and reunited with her son at all costs, part of him wanting justice in the full sense of the word.

  Elise turned toward him, her expression sad, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. To him, she’d never looked lovelier.

  Logan had started to reach for her, to smooth a few stray hairs from her cheek, when she said, “Nothing will ever make things right…because nothing will ever bring Brian back.”

  He let his hand fall to his sides.

  So her deceased husband did stand between them. Rather, his ghost did. Logan had suspected as much. How the hell did he compete with a dead man?

  “You can’t bring Brian back, Elise, but maybe you can bring him justice,” Logan said. “Maybe you can find proof in that house that will nail his killer’s butt to the wall.” He rationalized that would be the best thing, would get them both what they wanted. “And then you would be off the hook legally. You wouldn’t have to go anywhere.”

  He didn’t want to consider her escape, which could complicate matters, all depending on the judge.

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” She glanced at Mitchell House. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I should be living there, Logan, not for myself, but for my son. I don’t care about the money or the fancy house and grounds. I grew up in a blue-collar household, and to tell you the truth, Brian’s having so much money was intimidating. Everything about being part of the Mitchell family was intimidating. But I should be the one preserving the family legacy for Eric.”

  “Maybe that’s still possible.”

  “Who are we kidding? After three years, what kind of proof could I find?”

  “Sorry, that’s one of those ‘you know it when you see it’ kinds of things. And tonight you’ll have lots of time to see plenty.”

  She nodded. “At least I can try. They’re leaving at six-thirty and Eric must go to bed early. I don’t expect them to be back until midnight.”

  “The witching hour.”

  Even as he said it, the Mitchell’s garden door opened and, drink glass in hand, Carol sauntered out onto the patio. She was wearing a deep red sequined dress that molded her body and plunged low in the front. Obviously she was all ready for that night’s big political event.

  “We have an audience,” Logan said softly, automatically wrapping an arm around Elise. “Carol.” He couldn’t help himself, would take any excuse to get closer. “She’s looking over
this way.”

  Indeed, Carol seemed to be focused on them. Though he was too far away to see her expression, Logan recognized the interest in her stance, even from this distance. Curiosity and something else…

  Elise lightly placed a palm on his chest and tilted her head to look up at him. Something in her gaze told him she didn’t hate this, being held by him. Part of her wanted more, too. That was enough for Logan.

  He murmured, “We should make this look good…for the neighbors.”

  Elise stiffened slightly when he dipped his head, but the moment his lips touched hers, she seemed to relax against him. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, and as he deepened the kiss, they snaked around his neck.

  For a moment he forgot everything but having Elise in his arms, feeling her lush body pressed up against his. He slipped his hand from around her waist, up her side to her breast. His thumb found her nipple through the cotton and aroused it into a hard peak. She moaned softly into his mouth, and he thought her knees went weak because she leaned against him. He was crazy with wanting her, and the kiss was enough to push him to the edge…but he freed her before he went over it. Once he did, there would be no turning back.

  Elise stood there frozen, looking as shaken as he was feeling. Then she blinked, licked her lips, whispered, “Is Carol still watching?”

  A glance over to the other yard assured him that she was not. He shook his head. “She must have gone inside.”

  “Good.”

  He didn’t see it coming. Wielding that palm as effectively as any guy who’d ever punched him—and there had been more than a few over the years, especially on the job—her sharp slap hammered the side of his head.

  Logan stepped back and rubbed his cheek. “What the hell was that for?”

  “For what you were thinking.”

  “And you weren’t?”

  They stood at an impasse. Emotion flickered over her features and he recognized a duplicity in her, probably because he felt something similar.