Dangerous Deception. BEVERLY BARTON
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petite, with her golden red hair styled in a sleek page-boy cut the woman was pretty but not classically beautiful. Wonder who she is? Audrey Perkins’s mother perhaps. While working at Bedell, Inc., she’d heard rumors that Edward Bedell’s first wife had been the love of his life.
When the study door opened, Lausanne jumped up, intending to face Lt. Desmond and demand he allow her to go home. But instead she came face to face with Dom Shea.
“What do you want?” She scowled at him.
“I’m taking you home.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Lieutenant Desmond is releasing you and he instructed me to take you home.”
She eyed him speculatively.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Why did he tell you to take me home?”
“To make sure you get there safe and sound.”
“And if I don’t want an escort?”
“It’s either me or Sergeant Swain,” Dom told her.
“Some choice.”
Dom reached out and grasped her arm. “Let’s go, honey. Make it easy on both of us and cooperate.”
Lausanne glanced at his hand tightly gripping her arm. “Are you still working for Mr. Bedell?”
“Yes, I am.”
“So, who wants you to keep tabs on me, Mr. Bedell or Lieutenant Desmond?”
“Both of them,” Dom replied
“I take it that they don’t buy my story about Audrey hiring me to impersonate her?”
“They’d be fools to trust you. I trusted you and look where it got me.” Dom forcefully turned her around to face the fireplace. “Take a good look at the lady you were impersonating. There’s only a vague resemblance and yet it didn’t enter my head that you might not be who you said you were. It even crossed my mind that you might have had a little cosmetic surgery.”
A tight knot formed in the pit of Lausanne’s stomach as she stared at the portrait. That was Audrey Bedell Perkins? It couldn’t be. This was not the woman who had hired her, not the redhead who’d given her fifty-thousand dollars in cash and sent her off on a spending-spree holiday.
Oh, my God!
“What’s wrong?” Dom asked.
“Nothing’s wrong. What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I said nothing’s wrong. I just want to get out of here and try to forget about what an idiot I am. I should have known that if something seems too good to be true that it probably is.”
Why didn’t she just tell him that she now knew the woman who hired her to impersonate Audrey Bedell Perkins was not Audrey herself? Because he might not believe her. And if he didn’t, then what? Better to err on the side of self-preservation and keep quiet for now. With the realization that Audrey hadn’t hired her, the situation had suddenly gone from complicated to alarmingly convoluted.
“Is there something about that portrait that bothers you?” Dom asked.
She shook her head. “Not really. I was just thinking that Audrey Perkins and I really don’t look anything alike.”
After escorting her out of the study, Dom paused in the open doorway and glanced back at the portrait over the fireplace. Then his gaze met Lausanne’s. As he studied her closely, she realized he suspected she was lying to him. Again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LAUSANNE HADN ’T SAID MUCH on the drive from Lookout Mountain to East Brainerd. A couple of times, Dom had tried to start a conversation, but her one-word replies had let him know she wasn’t interested in talking. Fine with him. There didn’t seem to be anything either of them could say to change the situation. Neither of them had turned out to be who the other had thought they were. Each had lied to the other, either by omission or misrepresentation. And neither trusted the other. But on some basic, sexual level, they were still painfully aware of each other, which made things worse. Much worse.
Dom had to admit that this was a first for him. He wasn’t the type of guy easily fooled or manipulated. In all his relationships, he’d held the upper hand, been the one sought after, the one who’d always been able to pick and choose the best of the best. His taste in women was fairly eclectic, but as a general rule, he preferred lovely, sophisticated, well-bred ladies. Of course, in his youth, he’d sampled a few bad girls, variety being the spice of life and all. But he knew trouble when he saw it and had learned to avoid becoming embroiled in messy personal situations.
Lausanne Raney was trouble with a capital T. Whatever the hell was going on with her, whatever brouhaha she’d created in her life, wasn’t his problem. A smart guy would steer clear, cut his losses and run. Even though keeping close tabs on her was part of his job assignment, that didn’t mean he had to become personally involved.
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