Winter Magic: 4 (The Hawks Mountain Series) (3 page)

Miranda clutched at Nick’s sleeve. “No! No
 . . .
hospital. Have
 . . .
meeting
 . . .
Monday morning.”

“Lady, the only place you’ll be on Monday morning is in Charleston General, probably recovering from an emergency appendectomy.” Nick glanced at Andi for her help to convince Miranda. Andi knew Nick from some talks he’d given to her class about first aid. She nodded.

Andi moved next to the stretcher and took Miranda’s hand. Her skin was too warm. Her face had paled even more, if that was possible.

“Monday
 . . .
” The word rasped from Miranda’s throat.

Andi had seen her sister through mumps, measles and chickenpox, but nothing like this. She was terrified and at a total loss to help her. Glancing anxiously at the men standing over her sister, Andi prayed silently. Miranda had to be all right. She just had to be.

Clutching her sister’s hand, Andi pleaded with her. “Forget about Monday, Miranda. Right now—”

“Can’t forget.” Grimacing in pain, Miranda forced words from between her clenched teeth. “You have to
 . . .
You have to
 . . .
be me.”

Andi frowned, and then glanced at Nick hovering over them, as if he could tell her what her sister was trying to say, but he only shrugged and shook his head. When Miranda’s fingers tightened, Andi looked back at her. “I don’t—”

Miranda lifted her head from the stretcher. Her watery eyes held a seriousness that frightened Andi. “You’ve done it
 . . .
before. Have to go
 . . .
Monday. Be
 . . .
me.”

“Be you? What for—” Realization hit Andi like a punch to her mid-section. “You mean pretend to be you?”

Miranda nodded. “Nancy
 . . .
help. Give
 . . .
information. Pleaseee
 . . .
”

“Why not send Nancy?” Andi knew Miranda’s assistant was more than qualified to meet a client.

“No. He insists
 . . .
work with
 . . .
only owner.” Tears filled her eyes. “Please? You’re
 . . .
my big
 . . .
sister.”

Her big sister. The five minute jump Andi had on her sister at birth. Miranda’s trump card. Cold shivers chased up Andi’s spine. Nausea threatened. A cold sweat beaded her forehead. Miranda had asked her to do some pretty incredible things, but never anything as crazy as this.

Andi forced the whole idea from her mind and concentrated on her sister. But before she could say anything, the EMTs were wheeling Miranda from the house. Grabbing her purse on the way out the door, Andi followed close behind the stretcher. Nick assisted Andi into the ambulance with a gentle hand to her arm.

“She’ll be fine,” he told her. Then, as he closed the ambulance doors, smiled reassuringly.

No sooner had she sat on the seat at Miranda’s side than her sister tugged at Andi’s sleeve and began pleading again. The shrill wail of the siren made it hard for Andi to hear Miranda’s words. She leaned forward, positioning her ear close to Miranda’s mouth.

“Please
 . . .
do it
 . . .
for me.”

Miranda continued to plead with Andi to take her place on Monday until, worried that the stress was not helping her sister, Andi nodded her assent. They could sort it out later.

MONDAY AFTERNOON, Andi pulled her orange VW Bug to a halt in front of the Prince mansion, still bewildered as to how she’d come to be here. All she knew for certain was that somewhere between Miranda’s collapse on the front porch and when the doors to the ambulance had swung open at the emergency entrance of Charleston General, Miranda had gotten Andi to agree to pose as her and keep the appointment with Jonathan Prince.

Gathering her courage about her like a blanket, Andi plucked the keys from Bess’s ignition, then tucked them safely in her purse so she wouldn’t lose them as she often did. Pulling Miranda’s bright red wool coat around her, she peered through the windshield at the imposing Prince home.

Perched on a rise above Lake Hope, the mansion seemed to dominate the stark, winter landscape. Its construction had been the curious focus of the people of Carson for months. Though the home was new, it looked as though it had stood there for centuries. Built of native fieldstone, its gray exterior, with almost indiscernible splashes of pale pink quartz, blended with the professionally weathered wood around the mullioned windows and the forbidding, dark oak front door. Even the huge evergreen wreath hanging on the door didn’t soften the impression of an impenetrable fortress.

Andi’s stomach came up to lodge in her throat. She couldn’t do this. She’d been crazy to let Miranda talk her into it. Aside from the fact that, in more ways than one, she’d be completely out of her element here, telling lies left her tongue-tied and nervous. And just because she wore Miranda’s clothes and looked like her didn’t mean she could pass convincingly as her glamorous sister. Sure as the sun would rise tomorrow, Prince would see that she wasn’t Miranda, Andi would blow it, and Miranda would lose the contract.

Her Aunt Laureene’s strident tones seeped into Andi’s conscious mind.
If you tell one lie, you’ll have to tell a dozen to cover for it. Then you’ll be in a real pickle.

With that reminder repeating in her head and the taste of pickle brine already in her mouth, Andi retrieved her keys from her purse, then stuck them back into the ignition. She was about to start the car and make her getaway, when a movement at the front of the house caught her attention.

A very tall, dark-haired man in a meticulous, gray suit came down the front steps and headed toward her. From his aristocratic bearing and his handsome face, she surmised this had to be Jonathan Prince himself.

Using a device she had come up with her first day of teaching to calm her nerves, Andi waited for her initial confrontation with Mr. Prince. “A, B, C, D, E, F
 . . .
” she intoned softly as she fingered the
#1 Teacher
pendant she’d been awarded last year and that lay hidden beneath the fabric of Miranda’s Italian silk blouse.

Feeling not the least bit calmer, she remained inside the car. Maybe he’d changed his mind about the meeting. Maybe she could just leave and not have to balance herself on her sister’s heels, heels that were definitely high enough to give her a nose bleed.

If he hadn’t decided to call it off, well, then she’d just have to do her best. After all, Nancy had provided her with a portfolio of photos and all the information she’d need to get through the general questions she’d be expected to answer. And she’d studied both most of Sunday night and all Monday morning with all the concentration she would have given a final exam cheat sheet.

More importantly, now that Andi had given her word, she couldn’t let Miranda down. Besides, Miranda had promised, in the recovery room after her appendix had been removed, that it would only be this once, then she’d be out of the hospital in no time and could take over.

The man leaned down to peer at her through the side window. “May I help you?” he called through the glass separating them.

She sucked in a breath and seriously considered finishing her recitation of the alphabet. When Miranda said Jonathan Prince was movie star material, she hadn’t been exaggerating. Nothing could have prepared Andi for his startling blue eyes or the way a wave of blue-black hair draped over his forehead, obscuring one finely-arched eyebrow, or the even, white teeth that flashed through his casual smile, nor the voice that danced over her nerve-endings like fingers on piano keys.

Struggling for emotional and mental stability, she rolled down her side window and forced a smile to her lips. “Good morning. I’m
 . . .
ah
 . . .
Miranda
 . . .
Andi
 . . .
Andi Cameron,” she managed, using her nickname as she and Miranda had decided.

Terrific, Andi. Not being able to remember your own name should go a long way to instill confidence in the man that you can handle the planning of a major social event.

“Of course. I didn’t recognize the
 . . .
car,” he said, bathing her in a devastating smile, then casting a speculative glance at Bess’s dented front fender. He cleared his throat. “Interesting car. What happened to the one you were driving the other day?”

Rats!
She should have come in Miranda’s car, but maneuvering that red death trap went far beyond Andi’s driving capabilities. She’d told Miranda many times to get rid of the Ferrari before it killed her.

“My other car. Ah
 . . .
it’s in the shop. This is a loner.” Andi swallowed hard, hoping the slight elevation of her voice hadn’t given anything away. At the same time, she begged Bess’s forgiveness for disowning her and promised her an extra quart of oil if the VW didn’t punish her by breaking down on the way home.

Jonathan threw one more speculative glance at Bess, as if trying to figure out why a Ferrari dealership would give anyone an orange relic as a loner. Then he shrugged and turned back to Andi.

“Shall we go inside?” His face hovered near enough that his warm breath entered through the open window and brushed her cheekbones.

Just then, a chilling lake breeze filled her car with the fragrance of what must have been his spicy aftershave. Andi shivered, unsure if it was caused by the icy breeze or the man. From a nearby barren oak tree, a bird jeered at her.

“Shall we?” he repeated patiently, motioning toward the front door.

Speaking had suddenly become a major undertaking. So, she simply nodded and rolled up the window. Dragging her gaze to the safety of her dashboard, Andi sucked in a large draft of air and removed the keys from the ignition. Jonathan opened her door. Andi gathered a large portfolio, a clipboard containing the sample menus from Miranda’s caterer, and the interview questionnaire Nancy had assembled for her.

Once more she wished for her sensible, low-heeled pumps instead of the three-inch stilts Nancy had insisted Andi wear to look more like Miranda. Even though Andi had practiced walking in them all morning, she still wasn’t sure she could do it without falling on her face. She stepped gingerly from the car, pausing for a moment to get her balance. Once she was sure her ankles wouldn’t fold, she took her first tentative step into a world that threatened her with its unfamiliarity.

She cast a sidelong glance at the set profile of the man holding her elbow. A river breeze ruffled his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice. Without asking, he took the portfolio from her trembling fingers. She glanced at him and realized, to her surprise, that his gesture had been more automatic than just good manners. He seemed to take things for granted, not as his due, but just because he could. She got the distinct feeling that Jonathan Prince didn’t ask permission for much in life.

Andi stumbled, and his grip on her elbow tightened. His almost possessive hold sent odd shivers up her spine. Taking a deep breath, she centered her attention on the front door and the flanking pines, which were expertly trimmed to perfection so as not to hamper the comings and goings of the residents or guests.

Looking up at the grandiose structure, Andi knew that, unlike Miranda, she was way out of her league here. But did the threat she sensed emanate from the unfamiliar world of the wealthy, or from this larger-than-life man at her side?