The Look-Alike Bride (Crimson Romance) (4 page)

“On second thought, you’re not Adam after all,” she said. “You’re that pesky vacuum cleaner salesman I ran off last week. Isn’t following a customer into a church considered going too far out of your way to drum up business?”

This sounded more like Zara, but Adam wasn’t fooled. “We vacuum cleaner salesmen are like shyster lawyers. We follow potential clients anywhere.”

“I was afraid of that.” Her face held something akin to relief when the music director opened the service by requesting the congregation to stand and sing Hymn 135. “The service is starting.”

Adam located the song in his hymnal and stood. Zara’s clone stood beside him, but rather than cozy up to share his hymnal as Zara would have done, she opened her own and took care not to stand too close to him.

He wondered if he had developed bad breath.

Moreover, Zara’s look-alike didn’t need the hymnal. She knew the song by heart, all four verses, and sang it with unabashed fervor in a sweet, slightly off-key alto.

By the end of the service, Adam was more convinced than ever that the woman beside him was not Zara Daniel, no matter how perfect the resemblance. He had observed Zara in church before, and not only did she constantly troll the pews with her eyes, but she didn’t bother to sing any of the hymns, even the well-known ones. Adam suspected that if Zara couldn’t excel at something, even singing along in church, she didn’t bother to do it at all.

Further, Zara usually gave the sermon only her desultory attention. This woman, on the other hand, appeared interested in what the pastor had to say.

Adam raised his brows. His mother would approve of any woman who sang hymns by heart and paid attention to sermons. That ought to make him really nervous, but he was too interested in the mystery woman to flee the scene now.

After the final hymn was sung and the congregation dispersed to the parking lot, Adam decided to try one more test.

“Do you want to take my car?” she asked, stopping beside Zara’s snappy little jade-green Ford Mustang.

Adam studied the fine, sporty vehicle. Zara Daniel did everything she could to attract male attention, and attention in general. Part of the act, he suspected, served as her cover. The rest was natural to Zara’s extroverted personality.

“Maybe we’d better take mine,” he said. “I’ll bring you back here after lunch.”

Interestingly, she didn’t ask him why they’d better take his car. She simply followed him toward a silver sports utility vehicle.

“Hmm.” He pretended to study the parking lot. “I thought I’d parked on the other side of this SUV, but apparently not. You check out that area of the parking lot, and I’ll have a look over here.”

He sent her in the direction of his Jeep and wasn’t surprised when she walked right by it without pausing. “Zara” no longer recognized his Jeep, even though she’d commented on it often enough in the past.

Adam, satisfied that this woman most definitely was not Zara Daniel, or even Zara Daniel with a head injury, hurried toward her. “Here it is,” he called. “You walked right past it. Like you always said, it’s a forgettable vehicle, so you forgot it.”

“Forgettable?” She turned and looked blankly at him.

“Old Jeeps tend to fade from the memory beside the splendor of new SUVs and Mustangs.” He swung open the door of the Jeep with a flourish. “Hop in. We’ll race the rest of the crowd to the cafeteria.”

She smiled at that. Adam found himself ridiculously pleased that she attended church often enough to know about the rivalry among the congregations of large Protestant churches to be the first in line at the cafeterias after Sunday morning services in many Southern cities. His mother would definitely approve.

Adam stopped himself. He was busy building his business. He couldn’t afford to get interested in a woman, no matter how fascinating a mystery she presented.

But just this one lunch, he reasoned, wouldn’t make much difference in the overall scheme of things. Besides, he had to satisfy his curiosity, or he’d think of nothing but Zara Daniel’s imposter until he did. Once he had worked out the matter in his mind, he’d be able to get back to work with a clear conscience and no foolish entanglements.

• • •

Leonie couldn’t believe it. How had she wound up sitting beside Adam Silverthorne in an open Jeep, racing down a series of narrow, twisting Hot Springs streets? She wasn’t ready for this.

For one thing, he was far too attractive. For another, he was going out of his way to charm her. The whole situation was dangerous to her peace of mind.

More to the point, Zara hadn’t filled her in on anything she should know about Adam—

things like the make of car he drove and what his brother’s name was. She was going to have to wing it. Hopefully, Adam wouldn’t notice anything amiss. So far, he seemed convinced she was Zara.

And why shouldn’t he be? After all, she looked exactly like Zara, and from the few hints her sister had let fall, she really didn’t know Adam particularly well even though she was attracted to him.

Leonie was, too. She admitted that much and felt a strange, frightened thrill race along her nerve endings. She had thought she was through with men, especially men who had already met Zara. Instead, here she sat, indulging herself by spending time with the one man Zara had ever cared about.

She was definitely in trouble.

Leonie rallied herself. Anything Adam said that she knew nothing about, she would blame on her recent “head injury.” And after today, she would make it a point not to see Adam Silverthorne again; she didn’t care if she had to lock herself inside her own cabin. She could be Zara short-term around people who didn’t know her well, but if she was around Adam much longer, she’d probably slip up and say something that would blow Zara’s cover. Then she’d be in trouble with both Adam and Zara.

“How long are you staying?” Adam asked, smiling at her.

Leonie’s mind bounced from one idea to another. Adam’s dark hair blew in his face and ruffled across his forehead in a way that made her fingers itch to stroke it back. She could barely concentrate on his question, she was so entranced by the way his hair blew in the wind.

Absently, she pushed a lock of her own silvery hair out of her face and tucked it behind one ear. “I’m not sure. My boss may call me back to work at any time, but he’s out of the country for a month, and everything at the office is on hold until he gets back.” She shrugged and added, “It’s anybody’s guess as to exactly when he’ll get back.”

Zara had drilled her carefully on her supposed work schedule. She claimed to work for an eccentric boss who was often out of the country on fact-finding missions. Zara thought this explanation covered her strange absences and peculiar vacation schedule to anyone curious enough to ask.

“What does your company do?” Adam asked. “I know you’ve told me before, but to be perfectly honest, I never quite understood it.”

Neither did Leonie. “My boss is the head of a political action committee. That means he’s always traveling, meeting with the people who fund us, fact-finding, and so forth. We keep strange hours sometimes, not to mention weird schedules, but it works for us and it’s always exciting.”

Adam laughed. “So what does your particular political action committee do?”

“We’re what’s known to the media as a ‘special interest group,’” Leonie said, enjoying just looking at him. Thank goodness Zara had drilled her well enough that she felt confident in her explanation, even though it made little sense to her. “Our special interest is fertilizer companies. We hire a full-time lobbyist to present our views to the various lawmakers, and my boss testifies regularly before senate and congressional committees. Our aim is to keep the political climate healthy for the industry we represent.”

“Is that right?” Adam laughed again and forked his thick hair out of his eyes while they waited at a red light. “I didn’t realize the climate might get unhealthy for the fertilizer industry. What’s the problem?”

“Runoff,” Leonie said succinctly, and hoped he wouldn’t ask for much more information than she was about to give him. “The farmers spread fertilizer over their fields, then it rains, and the fertilizer washes into streams and rivers, then into the ocean. Environmentalists call runoff a pollutant. We proponents of the industry call it an act of God.”

“I see.” He shot the old Jeep forward the moment the light changed. “What side does Congress lean toward at the moment?”

“Ours, thank goodness.” She’d better demand more information when Zara called again. Maybe somebody could fax her some documents. “So far, people seem to realize that farmers need fertilizer if they’re to produce bigger and better crops. But the environmentalists are demanding what they call ‘sustainable agriculture.’”

“That’s a synonym for the farming methods in vogue a hundred years ago, right?”

“Right.” Definitely, she needed more information—the sooner, the better. Adam had no right to be so interested or so knowledgeable. “The environmentalists want everyone to switch to organic farming methods, which will destroy several major industries, including ours.”

“That’s interesting,” Adam said. “I never thought about runoff as a pollutant before. I’ll have to study up on it.”

Leonie gulped. So would she. Of course, neither she nor Zara had foreseen anyone being particularly interested in agricultural runoff as a potential environmental pollutant.

“You’ll find it very interesting,” she promised. “Oh, look. There’s the crafts place. I’m starting a course there tomorrow morning.”

Why had she blurted that out? Adam glanced toward the large stone building with what she thought was an inordinate amount of interest. Talk about shooting herself in the foot. But she had to do something to get Adam’s mind off her supposed expertise on the fertilizer industry.

“You’re into crafts?” He guided the Jeep into a parking lot a little further down the street. “I had no idea. What’s your craft?”

“It’s one of those silly things people usually never have time for,” she said, and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “They’re going to teach us how to paint flowers on rocks. I’ve always wanted to learn to paint.”

“What?” He halted the vehicle and turned to stare at her.

Leonie felt even more foolish. Her only consolation was that this would teach Zara a good lesson about interrupting her sister’s life with impunity.

“I’m about to study painting.” She proved unable to keep the defensive tone from her voice. “My first endeavor is a one-week class where you learn how to paint flowers on rocks. I’m sure you’ve seen some of them around. They make really beautiful paper weights. You can also use them as patio or room decor.”

“That sounds interesting. I’ll have to look into it,” he said, grinning again.

He was kidding. No man took up something like rock-painting.

“They offer lots of classes,” Leonie said helpfully. “You’d probably find the wooden toy-making class more down your alley.”

Adam laughed again, as if he found the whole thing amusing. Which, she reflected, he probably did. How many women did he know who went around taking rock-painting classes?

“I don’t think toy-making is quite in my line,” he said. “Although it does sound rather soothing.”

“Maybe they’ll let you sit in on a class.”

Adam jumped out and came round to open the door for her, still chuckling. “Are you going to bring Butch?”

His grin was making her nervous, although she didn’t know why. Probably, it had something to do with the fact that he was the most attractive man she’d ever met, and she couldn’t even be herself.

“As a matter of fact, I am. The classes are very informal, and many of the summer visitors bring their pets. So long as the pet is well behaved . . .” She trailed off, wondering yet again how Butch would behave in a class where other animals might be present, including feisty little attack Chihuahuas. “At any rate, they said I could bring him.”

“This,” Adam said, still grinning, “I have got to see.”

Adam couldn’t recall a lunch date where he’d enjoyed himself more. Watching “Zara” try to field his questions and make small talk was entertaining in itself, but what really added to his enjoyment was seeing the wariness in her eyes every time she looked at him. Why that turned him on, he had no idea, but it did. He couldn’t wait to make another date with her.

Perhaps Zara had chased him so relentlessly, he now felt turnabout was fair play. Except that this woman wasn’t Zara, he reminded himself. Maybe that was why he found himself so eager to replace the caution in her eyes with interest and passion.

This thought made him go silent right in the middle of his description of an alarm system he’d once installed that went ballistic every time military jets passed overhead.

They had a booth in the crowded, noisy cafeteria, as public a spot as he could manage, and now he wished he’d taken her to a quiet restaurant full of secluded nooks. Perhaps he’d finally gone nuts.

The cafeteria air carried the delicious smells of fried onions and fried fish. In fact, they both had opted for the fried fish, salad, and vegetables. The food was excellent, but the surroundings were way too public for a man longing to concentrate on a woman.

Zara’s clone looked at him, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

He stared at her. The air of gentle concern she wore lent a sweetness to her expression he’d never have associated with Zara in a hundred years. It reminded him of something.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He managed a smile. “I just remembered a paragraph I forgot to add to a report I wrote last night. Back to the alarm. It turned out the problem involved some strangely tuned diodes and transistors. They were receiving the military radio frequencies and retransmitting them as alarm signals.”

She chuckled. “I’ll bet the local police loved you. In Houston, that sort of thing happens so often, they’re always talking about billing people for all the false alarms.”

So. She was from Houston, rather than Washington, D.C. His mind, trained to notice details, catalogued this new fact.

“They’re thinking about it in Dallas also,” he said dryly, giving no sign that he’d noticed her slip. “It’s a good thing I don’t actually install alarm systems.”