Caught in the Frame Read online

  “I invited Remy because I thought you needed the closure.”

  Twin snorts from Chloe and EV put a frown on Lila’s face, until Chloe gave her a short explanation for why Dalton had arrived so precipitously.

  “There’s more. We believe Remy was behind the blackmail attempt on Evan Plunkett. Nate has some evidence, but not enough for a conviction, and we can’t figure out his motive. So…”

  “So, you’re sending EV in as Mata Hari.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  * * *

  Amid the quiet hum of dinner conversation, and the tinkling of silverware, EV strolled into La Sirene with an air of casualness that didn’t match the flare of ice traveling along her knotted nerves. Perfectly-cooked meats in butter-laden sauces scented the air like caloric sin. None of them held the least appeal to EV at the moment. She’d just found the fatal flaw in their plan.

  The broad strokes of the scheme had been to go to the restaurant and talk with Remy. The step that fell in the middle of those two actions was the one giving her trouble. As predicted, Remy had called Lila to announce his arrival in a manner that suggested the success of the entire event had depended upon his being there. He had not, however, brought up the subject of EV at all. That omission had led them to stage this impending fiasco of an impromptu meeting. Arguing that it played right into his hands, EV had been outvoted and summarily dispatched here with the vague instructions to engineer a chance meeting.

  Was she supposed to saunter over to where he dined alone and plunk herself down in the opposite chair? Or, maybe she should just stand here in the doorway like a complete idiot until he noticed her.

  Looking for a third alternative, EV scoped out the room. Cream-colored linens and stemware polished to a fare-thee-well gleamed under vintage Lalique. Remy’s popularity among the staff was evidenced by his less-than-ideal placement between the swinging kitchen door and the short hallway leading to the restrooms just beyond. If he treated his waiter like he had the unfortunate soul at the front desk, he was likely to get a sneeze burger for dinner.

  Watching the ballet of waitstaff moving in and out the door gave EV the ghost of an idea. When the waiter with the sour expression pushed the empty desert cart into the kitchen for a restock, she gave it a full two minutes, then slowly began to make her way toward the restroom area. If she timed it right, she could stage a small scene right near Remy’s table.

  As it was, she had to pick up her pace when she heard the unmistakable sound of wheels and something bumping the back of the door. The next few seconds required a delicate performance. Lining herself up in the aisle between tables, she played a game of dessert cart chicken. When the waiter dodged left to go around her, she slid in the same direction. When he changed course, she pivoted right on cue, putting her body in close proximity with the rolling menace. The waiter’s face fell into politely annoyed lines as EV bumped a hip against Remy’s table.

  The only blip in her plan was that Remy caught his water glass before it dumped over into his lap. Petty, she admitted, but it would have been fun to douse him. Instead, she had to satisfy herself with watching his expression change as he recognized her.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…Remy?” She let her eyes widen in surprise, then filled them with false warmth.

  He struggled to replace his initial snarl with a warm greeting. She could see how the effort to drop into character cost him. The veneer of politeness had thinned over the years. And so had his hair.

  The way his appraising gaze ran over her made EV glad Chloe had insisted on a makeover. Whatever it was that she had hoped to see—maybe the ghost of the boy she knew had once loved her, or a flicker of regret over the loss of his child and the way he had treated her—there was nothing in him worthy of redemption.

  “EV, I was hoping I’d run into you. As soon as I heard about the wedding, I knew I couldn’t miss getting a glimpse of the man who finally corralled Lila.” He stood. “Are you meeting anyone?” When she shook her head, he snapped impatient fingers at the next passing waiter. “Set another place, the lady will be joining me.”

  The lady would have preferred slapping him. Or kicking him in the danglies.

  “You look good, EV. Beautiful.”

  “Thank you. You look,” older, paunchier, like a rat bastard with pointy teeth who probably smells like the fetid hole he crawled out of, “distinguished. Tell me, where have you been keeping yourself all these years?”

  “Oh, here and there,” he evaded, “My grandfather passed on last year. Since then, I’ve been handling some of his personal business.” He reached across the table to lay a hand on hers. “What about you? Lila tells me you moved into your parent’s old place.”

  “I’m comfortable there.” With an eloquent shrug she deflected the conversation back to him. “Did you ever get married? Have children?” Please tell me you never procreated.

  “Come now, it’s bad form to talk about exes on a date.”

  Date? In your dreams, you fungus on the butt of humanity.

  He glanced up when a waiter appeared at his side. Keeping his eyes on EV, Remy ordered steak au poivre with cognac sauce and fingerling potatoes. “And the lady will have the same.” He flashed her a triumphant smile.

  “The lady will have the chicken with garlic,” Lots and lots of garlic—enough to choke a vampire. She flashed Remy a pointed look, “and leek soup to start, You’ll bill both to my room.” Alone again, she said, “This is not a date.” The tart comment slid right past him, since it didn’t fit with the fantasy that he could snap his fingers and have her panting to be with him again.

  Could he be a bigger jerk? His ego obviously outweighed his mental faculties if he couldn’t read her complete lack of interest in him. EV took a moment to tune him out and think. Part of her thirsted for payback—the part that lived deep in the most primitive recesses of her mind—for the way he had walked away from her grief over their lost child. For the wild mother in her, this was personal. The primal desire to inflict pain had to be tempered with guile and wit if she wanted to learn his motive for going after Ponderosa Pines.

  Listening to him now, even with half her brain otherwise occupied, she was coming to realize his reasons for blackmailing Evan might not have been all that complex. Remy reminded her of an attention-seeking child constantly shouting, “Mommy, look at me!”

  The leek soup smelled like heaven, but tasted like dust in her mouth. Spoonful followed spoonful while he prattled on about himself. Her bowl lay empty before he seemed to realize she hadn’t spoken since taking that first bite.

  “You’re quiet, EV. I guess your days run together out there in the woods, living the quiet life.”

  “I manage to fill my time.” Hadn’t Marjorie told him EV normally spent half the month of February criss-crossing the country speaking about Ponderosa Pines and the environmental innovations used there? She made a note to have someone ask Remy’s aunt that very question. “I’m learning to knit.”

  “How quaint.” Remy’s sneer lasted only a second before he shoved a huge chunk of steak into his mouth.

  I hope you choke.

  Forcing her face into a pleasant mask, EV threw out the first morsel of bait. “Well, you know I’ve felt obligated to stay ever since I practically forced the elders to expand.” EV rolled her eyes, let a small sigh of regret slide his way.

  “Then get out. They don’t need you now.” He reached across the table to lay his hand over hers. She stopped the involuntary flinch of disgust, but just barely. The prickling feeing originating from the point of contact had nothing to do with desire, and everything to do with the skin of her hand wanting to crawl off her bones and slink under the table like a kicked dog.

  “It’s not that easy. I have ties in the Pines.”

  “Lila said you were seeing someone.” He let his eyes go dark and hungry. “You know I’m the only one for you, right? We’re meant to be. It’s kismet.”

  Kismet? Kiss it. Just pucker up.

&n
bsp; EV dipped her head, cast her eyes down toward the table—let him think she was overcome with emotion, and not just hiding the scorn that leapt into them.

  “I’d give you anything you want,” he continued. “Besides, Ponderosa Pines won’t be your problem much longer.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing. Dessert?” He changed the subject.

  “Thank you, but I have to meet Lila in,” she looked at her watch, “ten minutes.”

  “When can I see you again.”

  When I can ski in hell.

  One elegantly clad shoulder lifted skyward before EV turned and walked away. She felt his eyes on her the whole time. Under his gaze, she forced her feet to take slow, even steps until, without a backward glance, she turned the corner and he could no longer see her. EV slipped off the torturous heels Chloe had made her wear, and lengthened her stride to a fast walk. She welcomed the distance each step put between her and the restaurant.

  Replaying the scene back in her head, EV looked for clues she might have missed the first time. A telltale eye twitch, a firming of the lips—anything to build on the next time she had to sit across from him.

  Nothing about Remy screamed criminal mastermind, though tonight EV had seen the ego-driven, status-seeking, spoiled brat Dalton had described. Without the filter of infatuation clouding it, her vision of him cleared. She saw her past—their past—through new eyes. He’d craved adoration and she’d given it to him, until the new life in her belly had drawn enough of her attention to leave him feeling left of center. He’d turned then—shown her his true self: a petulant child jealous of anything and anyone in his way. Even his unborn baby.

  Forward motion slowed while EV processed the information. Her heart, already closed to him, hardened more. He would not use her again. Ever.

  Chapter 10

  In the false darkness cast by heavy draperies, EV pulled on her favorite running shoes. There was probably time to get a few miles in before Chloe rose like a specter from the covers EV assumed were currently yanked over her head. Lila’s excuse of wanting them both close by hadn’t fooled EV one bit. She’d been turned into an unwilling chaperone—a pawn in Lila’s game of keep Chloe and Nate apart.

  No amount of logic revealed Lila’s reasoning for stashing Nate in a room as far away from Chloe as he could be while still remaining inside the castle. EV had thought Lila approved of the match. Worse, it meant sharing a suite with lousy acoustics. Sounds had a way of amplifying from one bedroom to the other. Odd considering the no-expense-spared construction elsewhere in the castle. Given the way sounds echoed, EV had to be quiet in the morning so Princess Lazybones could sleep in.

  On her way out the door, EV snagged a bottle of water from the fridge, and her favorite new jacket made of some lightweight, water-resistant material. It kept her dry and warm without making her overly sweaty. Good thing, since the one quick peek she’d risked outside had reveald a lowering gray sky, and the balcony coated in a fine mist.

  Following directions in the brochure on her nightstand, EV spent the next hour jogging along the soggy hiking trails located on the west side of the castle. By the time she made her way back to the rooms, the only dry part of her was under that jacket. Too bad it hadn’t come with matching pants.

  Tossing the wonder garment over a chair, EV grabbed her robe and made a beeline for the bathroom. Chloe was up and gone; probably off somewhere with Lila. That ought to leave enough time for a shower and some breakfast. Just inside the door, she stopped short.

  It looked like half a department store makeup aisle had exploded across the small counter. Bottles, brushes, and tubes spread out like casualties after a bombing. Two wet towels lay in a heap on the floor, and in the shower, a complimentary bottle of shampoo leaked its contents down the drain.

  Slob.

  Ignoring all but the mini-shampoo, EV turned on the shower. At least the water was hot and plentiful, even if the messy room made her eye twitch.

  Slamming doors and lilting female voices signaled Chloe’s return, letting EV know she wasn’t alone. Lila’s unmistakable tone penetrated the door as she called out, “Hurry up in there EV, we’ve got bridesmaid dresses out here.”

  Whoop-de-doo. EV mentally and physically rolled her eyes. Growing up together, EV remembered Lila’s tastes running to pastels, ruffles, and lace—completely opposite from EV’s preference for bold colors and simple lines. Still, that was a long time ago. No hoop skirts. Please, let there be no hoop skirts. Or pink. Or purple. Or lace. On second thought, let me out of this altogether.

  Why did Lila want EV in her wedding to begin with? Yesterday’s heart to heart proved how far they’d grown apart over the years. A few phone calls—while nice—didn’t a close friendship make, even if the bones were still there. Wasn’t there anyone in Lila’s swarm of social butterflies who counted a close friend?

  Dread kept EV in the bathroom longer than her normal ten minutes. She straightened up Chloe’s mess and generally dawdled until Lila could stand it no longer. Fists pounded on the raised panel, “Get out here or I’m going to pick a dress that makes you look like Barbie’s grandmother goes to cotillion.”

  That did it. EV stepped into the room to see three rolling racks hung to bursting with zippered plastic dress bags.

  “Grandmother? I think you mean maiden aunt.” EV yanked the door open. “A well-preserved one at that.” Her mock glare turned to a genuine grin. “Come on, show us what’s in the bags.”

  Watching Lila open each cocooned bit of froth with such tender excitement made EV’s throat tighten with a surge of emotions. If Javier turned out to be the kind of man Chloe was afraid he was, Lila would be devastated. He hadn’t scored high on EV’s hogwash meter, so she hoped Chloe was wrong. No one could fault him for the way he acted toward Lila—gentle and protective. The only time he had not been forthcoming with information had to do with his family, not with his feelings for Lila.

  Shooting a sidelong glance at Chloe, EV pried, “Is Javier’s sister going to be in the wedding?”

  “Hmm? No, she’s not going to be able to get here until the last minute, so we decided it would be too much hassle.”

  “And his brothers? Will they be standing up for him?”

  “Whoa!” Lila held up a hand. “What’s with the third degree?”

  “She’s just curious about who she’s going to be stuck marching with.” Chloe stepped in to pull the focus off EV. “But if we’re going to be family, I’d at least like to meet some of them. You’ve spent time with them, right?”

  “Of course I’ve met his family. His father died when Javi was young, but his mother remarried a lovely man. She’s a firecracker. You’re going to love her, Chloe. In fact, she reminds me a little bit of you, EV.”

  “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or creeped out.” Wry humor sucked the words dry.

  “You should be flattered.” Lila turned to unzip the first bag while behind her back, EV and Chloe had one of those conversations that don’t require words—only a series of eyebrow raises and subdued gestures. Lila pulled the hanger out of the bag, and that’s when EV lost the will to pry.

  If there was an ugly Christmas sweater contest for bridesmaid dresses, this one would win the title hands down. Bright red, with a faux fur band across the strapless top, the black belt and big buckle really did look like something straight from a North Pole closet, but that’s where the resemblance ended. Below the belted waistline, the skirt fell in a series of Flamenco dress-type flounces. Mrs. Claus meets Carmen Miranda.

  Shock and horror were the words of the day until Lila burst out laughing. “Gotcha.”

  “That’s so not funny,” Chloe slapped a hand over her eyes then peered between her fingers. “I think I’ve been struck blind. Take it away.”

  But Lila couldn’t oblige. She was bent double with laughter, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Every time she started to regain some semblance of control, another wave hit, until she was gasping for breat
h. Since she was the one still wearing a robe, EV snatched the dress of the hanger and pulled it over her head. She cha-cha-ed across the floor. By then, Chloe had joined her mother in a bout of tear-filled hooting, and when she reached over the slam the bathroom door shut, EV got a look at herself in the full-length mirror attached to the back.

  “I take it this one’s a no, then?” EV asked with feigned seriousness before stripping the dress off and hanging it back in its bag.

  She unzipped the next bag far enough to see bubble-gum pink and zipped it right back up again. Lila, finally in control of herself again, shoved EV aside. “Out of the way. I’ve only seen that one because I had it made as a joke. I’m the bride, I get to look first.” She unzipped the same bag EV had just closed, got a look at the color and, just as EV had, zipped it closed with a shudder. “I emailed photos of you both to several boutiques and asked them to send a selection in colors that would complement your skin tones. And yes, EV, that color would look good on either one of you, but I know it’s not your thing.”

  “I’m not the one getting married. If you have your heart set on a hot pink wedding, I’ll bite the bullet. Anything for you.”

  “It’s only the second choice, we’ll find something we all love.” Chloe, of course, liked the color, but wasn’t a fan of the sweetheart neckline, so she added her veto to EV’s.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Chloe, hair standing on end from the static coming off that much plastic, ordered, “Take a break, Mom. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Call and have some breakfast sent up.”

  “Two pots of coffee, as per usual?” Lila asked, already knowing the answer. It had probably been a bad idea to perpetuate Chloe’s caffeine addiction early on in life. Lila recalled a trip to Brazil around her daughter’s 12th birthday where a pre-teen Chloe spent several weeks sipping coffee-laced milk like a native child.

  While they waited for room service, Lila seemed unable to help herself, and sorted through several more dress bags. By the time the discreet knock sounded, there was a full rack of rejects, four possibles draped over the back of one chair, and most of two racks left to sort. The waiter pushed a white-draped cart into the room, whisked covers from a series of warming trays, and exited the room.