Janet Chapman - The Seductive Impostor

Do you remember what I told you? Keenan asked, reaching behind Rachel and gently lifting her braid, pulling it over her shoulder.

I Rachel swallowed and tried again. I dont rememwhat did you say? she asked hoarsely, trying to see his face through the shadows.

I told you that the next time we reached this point, I intended to finish it.

And wewere at that point now?

Slowly, and with such gentle precision that Rachel tingled all the way down to her toes, Kee began unraveling her braid.

Were past that point, Rachel.

Her skin tightened in awareness.

The braid slowly unfurled, and his hand moved higher.

Breathing became difficult.

And when his fingers finally reached the nape of her neck, he cupped her head, leaned down and brought his lips to hersnot kissing her, not quite touching herjust close enough to bring every nerve in her body alive in anticipation.

Either smack me with your flashlight, Rachel, or kiss me.

The flashlight clattered to the floor.

Also by Janet Chapman

Charming the Highlander

Loving the Highlander

Wedding the Highlander

Published by Pocket Books

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS

POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

Copyright 2004 by Janet Chapman

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 1-4165-0337-4

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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To Della,

for being a great sister as well as my best friend.

You might question some of my antics,

but never question my love.

Acknowledgments

Thank you, Chris Limberis, for helping me make sense of the legal and political systems around here. How wonderful that I can use both lawyer and friend in the same sentence when referring to you.

And thank you to the gang at Write It/Sell It, Gail and Lance, Jason, Lorin, Marg, John G., Chris F., and all the rest of my extended family from the Writers Retreat Workshop. A girdle is not the only thing that gives great support!

But most especially, thank you, Chris Goff and Jan Chalfant, my sisters in prose, for the long-distance brain-storming, the pep talks and scoldings, and the many memorable RWA conferences. What wonderful and patient husbands we have.

Chapter One

U sing her cane for support, Rachel Foster limped down the steps of the library and headed for her truck, eager to get home and take a long soak in a tub of steaming water. The torn cartilage in her knee was nearly healed, but the rest of her muscles had gotten lazy from lack of exercise. It was going to take a month of kayaking to get back in shape, and Rachel could hardly wait until her doctors appointment on Friday to get rid of her cane and the stupid, itchy brace on her knee.

She waved at a few friends as she drove down the street that separated Puffin Harbors small, eclectic assortment of shops from the grassy town park and headed toward her home, which, up until her hiking accident three weeks ago, had been only a fifteen-minute walk away.

But Rachels smile quickly disappeared as she passed the firemen standing outside the station. Shed yelled at them to be careful when theyd rescued her off Gull Mountain, but theyd just laughed and threatened to drop her. Her glare was answered by whistles and catcalls, with Ronald Pikes waving both hands and shouting something about her taking a hike.

Rachel pulled into her driveway to find Wendell Potter sitting in the swing on her porch, his briefcase tucked under his chin and his eyes closed.

He woke up when she came to a dusty stop beside the porch. He scrambled to his feet as she got out of the truck.

What brings you here, you handsome old goat? Business or pleasure? she asked as she slowly mounted the stairs.

He did return her smile, but it seemed a bit forced. Or maybe a bit tired. Rachel leaned up and gave him a noisy kiss on his cheek, realizing that her old family friend and lawyer was getting up there in years.

This old goat is here on business, Im afraid, he said, holding the screen door for her as she opened the inside door, then following her into the kitchen. Im closing up shop, he continued, going over to the kitchen table and setting his battered old briefcase down.

Rachel hooked her cane over the back of the kitchen chair and sat down, propping her right leg on a second chair, studying him as he dropped into his own chair with a tired sigh.

Youre closing up shop? she repeated. But you cant be a day over sixty, she told him, smiling broadly.

Ill be seventy-four next month, and you know it. What? he asked, lifting one bushy eyebrow. You think Im going to babysit your legal affairs the rest of my life? Youve got a sister who can do that now.

But then what will you do?

He perked up, shooting her a smile that had surely been a lady-killer fifty years ago. We bought a condo in Florida. No more Maine winters for us!

Rachel slapped her hand down on the table. Good for you! Its about time you spent all that money youve made off us Fosters all these years.

His bushy eyebrows dropped in a mocking glare, and he shook his head at her. I swear you get sassier every time I see you. He suddenly sobered. Hows the knee? he asked, nodding toward the cane hanging on her chair.

Pretty good now. Im hoping Dr. Sprague lets me get back to work next week.

Wendell nodded approval. Betty said you tumbled halfway down Gull Mountain, he told her, his eyes suddenly lighting with humor. Said most of Puffin Harbors fire department came to your rescue.

Betty was Dr. Spragues receptionist and an incurable gossip. She was also Wendell Potters wife.

Rachel covered her face with her hands and peeked between her fingers. It was so embarrassing. They strapped me into one of those litters and carried me off the mountain. She lowered her hands, her eyes widening as she dramatized her tale. I was terrified they were going to drop me. I kept screaming at them to be careful, trying to be heard over their laughter. I was dying, and those fools were having a field day.

Thats because they knew you werent dying. Wendell chuckled. And every firefighter youve ever turned down for a date had you exactly where he wanted you, Wendell said as he undid the buckles of the battered leather satchel and reached inside.

Rachels joy at Wendells unexpected visit suddenly turned to curiosity when he pulled a small metal box from his briefcase and set it on the table in front of her.

It was an old box, dingy and dented by years of indifferent handling and misuse, the weathered green paint chipped away at the corners and around the lock, exposing the dull patina of rusted cheap tin. Rachel stilled at the sight of the box and fought to repress the familiar weight of grief suddenly welling up in her chest.

She recognized the box.

Whats in it? she whispered, lifting her gaze to the lawyer shed known since childhood.

Wendell clasped his hands and placed them on top of his now deflated briefcase. Its your daddys strongbox, he said, his bushy gray brows pulled into a frown. And I cant say whats in it, because I dont know. Frank only gave me the task of keeping it for him.