The Lady Has a Past (Burning Cove #5) - Amanda Quick Page 0,27
on, and fired up the engine.
She pulled a green silk scarf out of her handbag, folded it into a triangle, and put it over her hair.
“Am I allowed to remind you that this honeymoon cover was your idea?” she asked, knotting the scarf under her chin.
“That would be rude,” he said. He pulled away from the curb. “But I probably deserve it.”
“I like a man who takes responsibility for his behavior.” She opened her handbag again, took out a pair of sunglasses, and slipped them on. “If you regret suggesting I accompany you as your bride, why did you come up with the idea in the first place?”
“I couldn’t think of any other way to keep an eye on you. And you were planning to continue the investigation on your own. Admit it.”
“Of course I would have continued looking for Raina, with or without a fake husband.”
“I knew it.”
She settled back into the seat. “Besides, although you had no way of knowing it, this trip to Labyrinth Springs will allow me to cross off one of the items on my personal agenda.”
He stopped the car at an intersection and glanced at her. “What’s that?”
“Checking into a hotel with a man who isn’t my husband.”
“Is that your idea of a joke?”
“Nope. I’m serious.”
“What else is on this agenda of yours?”
“Lots of things I haven’t done because I wasted too much time trying to be the perfect daughter and prove to my father that I was mature enough and smart enough to take over his business. After I graduated from college I talked my father into hiring me. I started in the mail room of Brazier Shipping and worked my way up to the head office. I wanted to learn every aspect of the business. I was Father’s assistant until a few weeks ago.”
“What happened a few weeks ago?”
“I quit. It’s complicated. I’m hoping my new career as a private investigator will make it possible for me to fill in my résumé.”
“What résumé?”
“Just an expression. What I’m trying to explain is that when I get old I want to be able to look back on an interesting past.”
“I saw the article in yesterday’s edition of the Herald. Looks like you’ve already got an interesting past.”
She shuddered. “What happened at the Adlingtons’ residence doesn’t count.”
“Trust me, it counts.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re never going to be able to forget it.”
She thought about that. “You’re right. That is very insightful of you.”
“Golly, thanks. Once in a while I impress myself. There’s a map in the glove box. You’re in charge of navigation.”
“Lucky for you, I know how to read a map.”
“Yeah, clearly my luck runneth over today.”
She opened the glove box, pushed aside the flashlight and a few other items, and pulled out the map.
In spite of Simon’s dour mood, she would have enjoyed the trip if their mission was not so serious. The road followed the coastline as far as Los Angeles. It was another picture-perfect Southern California day. The ocean sparked and dazzled with a diamond-sharp light. The breeze stimulated all her senses. And she was sitting very close to the most interesting man she had ever met. Simon drove the exciting car with cool, relaxed skill.
All in all it was a scene right out of a Hollywood movie. This is where I was meant to be, she thought. Should have walked away from Brazier Shipping years ago and moved to Burning Cove.
But as with so many things in this land of sunshine and glamour, appearances could be deceiving. That was certainly true of Simon Cage.
“Are you a real antiquarian book dealer?” she asked.
His hard profile got harder. For a moment she wasn’t sure he was going to answer the question.
“Real enough,” he said finally. “I’ve got a small shop on the first floor of my house in Santa Monica. But I make most of my money tracking down and authenticating antiquarian books for collectors.”
“And working for Luther Pell?”
“I do occasional odd jobs for him, yes.”
“Investigations.”
“Yes.”
“No offense, but you don’t look like a professional investigator.”
“You’re not the first person to mention that,” he said. “That’s more or less the point when you’re working undercover.”
She flushed. “Right.”
“Maybe I should get a trench coat. Can I ask where you bought yours?”
She shot him a scorching look. “That is not amusing.”
“I’m not known for my humor.”
“Understandable,” she said. “I assume you have a gun.”
“In my briefcase.”
“Well, that’s something, at least.”
“The briefcase or the gun?”
“Ha. That was a desperate attempt at humor. Don’t try to