Lucas had supposedly died eleven years ago, in the wedding day accident that had left Nadia in a coma. So who was this man standing outside her Dallas penthouse, claiming to be the man she'd loved? And why did her instant joy at finding Lucas alive suddenly turn to trepidation at the cool disdain in her groom's eyes?
Wed by Deception (Silhouette Desire)
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Book Description
Editorial Reviews
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
As silent as a tomb. And after eight weeks of playing Suzy Homemaker, Nadia Kincaid felt as if she'd been buried alive in the luxurious penthouse.
Nice crypt, but still…a crypt.
She didn't even have neighbors as a distraction. The only other apartment in the downtown high-rise had been unoccupied since she'd moved in and the floors below were filled with businesses that didn't appreciate her popping in to visit. Not even when she brought the results of the new cookie recipes she'd tried.
She folded her dust cloth, parked her hands on her hips and stared at the shelves filled with books and videos Rand had sent. She'd promised herself she'd stand on her own two feet in Dallas, and she hadn't wanted to accept her brothers'help, but she also hadn't wanted to starve. So she'd caved and accepted his gifts. With the aid of the tapes and books and cable TV, she'd taught herself to cook. And since cooking was messy, she'd also learned to clean. She'd even managed to master laundry and all those other little things that had always been done for her as a Kincaid heiress. She was proud that she'd only had a few minor mishaps.
So there, Daddy. Two months and I'm still standing. Bet you didn't expect that.
She'd caught up on practically every movie and bestseller released in the past decade and even found a grocery store that delivered to downtown Dallas. Delivery, she'd discovered, was cheaper than taking a taxi to and from the store.
The only challenge she hadn't yet met was the driving lessons. She wasn't ready to get behind the wheel of a car.
Look how much damage she'd done from the passenger seat.
The memory sent her scrambling for a distraction the way it always did when the past slipped from its sealed vault. Whipping her rag back out, she dragged it across the polished granite mantle and focused on her anger toward her father.
He'd underestimated her again by giving her this stupid penthouse-sitting, find-herself, real-world job while giving her brothers more meaningful tasks.
Rand had been forced to return to Kincaid Cruise Lines and step into their father's shoes as CEO after a five-year self-imposed exile. Mitch would be playing daddy to their father's illegitimate toddler. But Mitch hadn't been forced to give up his job as the CFO.
She got to watch her nails grow.
But grief underlay her anger like silt at the bottom of a river waiting to be stirred up by a change in current. And her thoughts, like river water, turned murky at the oddest of times. Such as now.
Yes, she was furious with her father for treating her like an inept child, but she also ached with the knowledge that there would be no more head-butting arguments with him, no more irate confrontations because he'd gone over her head or behind her back and undermined or overridden her decisions at work. There'd be no more fighting over the business section of the paper during breakfasts at Kincaid Manor, no more appropriate-behavior lectures and no more looking up at work or at a society event and knowing he was watching her every move. Watching and waiting for her to screw up and need bailing out.
Three months ago she'd been chaffing at his smothering surveillance and, yes, she admitted grudgingly, over the years she'd done some outrageous things just to get a rise out of him. Now she missed knowing she mattered to someone. Sure, her brothers cared, but they had their own lives and having her disappear for a year was no great loss to them.
But you don't want anyone to get too close. Caring means losing and losing means hurting.
And self-pity is pathetic. Get over yourself.
But she'd swallowed all the domestic goddess junk she could handle. Her brain was atrophying. What else could she do? The will stipulated she couldn't get a job, but she needed more to fill her days than cooking, cleaning and sitting on her butt with a book or movie and waiting for a sound from the hall.
No doubt the security guards and Ella, the neighbor's maid, thought she was stalking them since she rushed out to chat each time she heard the elevator doors open.
She glanced at the window but her own reflection on the darkened glass stared back at her instead of the lush greenery and bright flowers and tomatoes filling the trio of container gardens Mitch had sent her. Her gaze bounced to the grandfather clock. Eleven? Where had the day gone? Without a job to report to every morning and some social event to occupy her evenings time seemed to slip away from her.
Slowly, like a receding ice cap.
She had to find a new hobby, but it would have to wait until morning. And she wasn't going to call anyone else for help. She had to work this one out for herself.
What could she do to fill the hours before even the chance of sleep would come? With the time difference, it was too late to call her brothers and get an update on their romances. Both had fallen in love during her solitary confinement, and Rand and Mitch were well on their way to fulfilling their parts of the inheritance clause. Their happiness only reinforced the fact that she couldn't mess this up. Success or failure now rested solely on her shoulders. Her father and brothers expected her to make a mess of this, but instead she was going to be the one to nail the deal.
She nodded with a whole lot more confidence than she felt and selected a kickboxing workout video. If she did the routine twice, the exercise ought to tire her out.
Trying to work up some enthusiasm, she headed for the DVD player. A muffled thump stopped her. Had it come from the hall? If so, it was far too late for the neighbor's twice-weekly maid, and since security in the building was tighter than the Pentagon, it wasn't likely to be a prowler.
So what was it? Grumpy, aka Gary, the night security guy? He usually covered the Monday night shifts. The guy really didn't like her much. None of the security team did.
But this wasn't Grumpy's usual time. She headed for the foyer and squinted through the peephole.
Across the wide hall a tall, blond guy had his back to her as he shoved a key into the apartment door. His tailored dovegray suit encased broad shoulders, slim hips and long legs. He carried an ostrich attaché case in his left hand and a Louis Vuitton garment bag sat to the right of his feet.
Her absentee neighbor? Hallelujah. Someone new to talk to. She yanked open the door. The man spun around swiftly as if she'd startled him.
No. It couldn't be. Nadia recoiled, stumbling backward. The doorjamb banged her spine. The pain barely registered. Her heart slammed. Her head spun.
No.
Not Lucas.
Lucas is dead.
But the man in front of her was a dead ringer for her dead husband.
"Nadia?" said an oh, so familiar voice.
Black spots danced in front of her eyes. A cold sweat coated her skin. She gasped for air and clung to the door frame.
"Nadia, are you all right?"
She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't blink. Transfixed, she stared at the apparition wavering in front of her.
"Put your head down."
The briefcase thumped to the floor.A strong hand cupped the back of her neck and forced her chin toward her chest. Her legs folded. She went down hard on her knees. Her forehead pressed the Aubusson rug while her thoughts tumbled out of control.
You've done it. You've finally cracked up. Just like your father expected you to.
When you open your eyes, you'll see a stranger. Not your dead husband. Or maybe nobody at all.
But the firm, warm hand on her nape felt very, very real.
And very familiar.
When the hall around her no longer tilted and whirled she batted that big hand away and eased upright.
Blinking didn't change a thing. The man kneeling beside her still looked like Lucas Stone. His tawny hair was shorter, expensively razor cut instead of the basic barbershop job she remembered. His face was leaner and scored by a few more lines, but those were Lucas's silvery-blue eyes. That was his slightly canted-to-the-right nose and his stubborn square chin.
"Y-you're dead."
The corners of the mouth she'd once loved to kiss turned downward and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Not the last time I checked."
"Daddy told me— I missed the memorial service. I— He said you died. From injuries sustained in the wr-wreck."
Scowl deepening, the Lucas look-alike sat back on his haunches. "Kincaid told you I was dead?"
Her tongue was as dry as driftwood and about as lifeless. She swallowed and nodded.
"Son of a bitch." He shot to his feet and offered her a hand.
She hesitated, staring at those long fingers, one of which had worn a shiny new gold band the last time she'd seen him— a ring she still kept in her jewelry box at home. Reaching for that imaginary hand would be like buying into this delusion. She rose slowly without assistance and scanned the hall for the guys in white coats. But she saw only the empty private penthouse elevator through its gaping doors.
"This isn't real. You're not real. Tomorrow I'll wake up and—"
The blond illusion followed her into the apartment.
Oh, God. She needed to call her shrink.
You fired him last week, remember?
Oh, yeah. Oops. Big mistake.
"I can't believe your father told you I was dead. What else did he tell you?"
She grappled to make sense of her delirium. "N-nothing."
He stopped a yard away and she caught a whiff of… Kenneth Cole Black?
Did hallucinations have a scent?
Tentatively, she reached out. Her trembling fingertips didn't sink into nothingness. They encountered a firm chest encased in a pale blue silk shirt. She flattened her hand on that make-believe chest beside the navy-and-pewter striped silk tie. The steady thud of a heart bumped against her palm.
Real.
He's not dead.
Lucas isn't dead.
Joy burst through her, warming her, whipping her already racing heart into a wild thrashing rhythm. She was halfway to leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around him the way she used to but her euphoria sputtered then crashed and ...
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
2 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Hated the series,
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Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Wed By Deception (Silhouette Desire) (Mass Market Paperback)
I normally enjoy reading stories that are in a series. I hated this one! I thought the main theme of the story was ridiculous. teh patriarch of the family dies and has all these stipulations for his children. One has to find an old flame and hire her as his executive assistant another has to find his (deceased patriarch) illegitamate child and his care taker and move them into his home and this one had to move to Texas and have little to no contact with the outside world. All in all the stories were dumb and I found myself skipping a lot of the pages just to fiish the book.
4.0 out of 5 stars
Great!,
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Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Wed By Deception (Silhouette Desire) (Mass Market Paperback)
Loved the conclusion of the Kincaid series! Nadia's and Lucas' shared pain made this a poignant, touching read.
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