Reluctant Deception - Cambria Smyth Page 0,11
red brick.
Surprisingly, the dark wood paneling, doors, and trim throughout the house had never been painted. Twice a year, Libby rubbed lemon oil on their varnished surfaces to protect and enhance the warm patina that had gradually accumulated over the years.
Libby waited impatiently for the coffee to finish brewing. It had been quite a night, she reflected after a long yawn. Actually, yesterday had been quite a day. She couldn't seem to get Christopher Darnell off her mind. He was nothing like the man she imagined him to be. Expecting an old, gray-haired patriarch, she found instead a strong, accomplished, and exceedingly handsome younger man. Powerful, dominating, and thoroughly charming when he wanted to be. She had anticipated hating the person who threatened to destroy, and would if given the chance, the old buildings she loved.
Rather, she felt utterly confused by her attraction to him. And, she was attracted to him alright. Physically and on other levels she had yet to define, or admit. But she knew any relationship, however brief and sweet, was doomed once he discovered her identity. And it was inevitable that he would, sooner or later. Borden's Landing was a small town and in the two years she'd been living here, Libby had come to know most of its residents on a first name basis.
She shuddered, imagining his wrath when he learned the truth. Hoping her deception wouldn't be discovered until after the fundraiser, she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to savor its steaming comfort.
Lord knows she'd tried to get him off her mind yesterday. After leaving Harte's Desire, she spent the afternoon doing research at the county archives and later made herself a simple dinner. Still feeling strangely restless and bored after eating, she decided that a good workout at the health club would calm her nerves as it usually did. When thirty minutes on the treadmill left her exhilarated instead of exhausted, she headed to the free weight room. The health club was packed for a Thursday night, but she did as many exercises as she could, all the while comparing the men working out there to Christopher Darnell. None of them seemed to have anywhere near his physical perfection.
Still wide awake when she got back home at ten, Libby poured herself a glass of Chardonnay and curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace with a historical romance. The book was an excellent one, but she groaned inwardly when the description of its hero matched Christopher Darnell to a tee. There was no getting away from the man, she thought. Thoroughly caught up in the story and its all too similar protagonist, she finally forced herself to turn out the lights and go to bed at two.
Visions of him kept her from falling asleep right away, and continued to plague even her dreams.
Memory of that dream brought her back to thoughts of the day's coming events. She drained her coffee cup and headed upstairs to the shower.
Forty-five minutes later, dressed and refreshed, Libby emerged from the house wearing a casual pair of slacks with a matching knit silk top. She concluded it was better to wear something more suited for a confrontation than jeans and a T-shirt. Her hair, freshly washed and blow-dried, fell in luscious golden waves past her shoulders.
Closing the back door behind her, she headed to the carriage house that sat some fifty feet away. Like the main house, it had a slate roof, red brick walls, and projecting dormers covered with cedar shingles. Although it had been built to house automobiles rather than horses and buggies, it was a substantial size.
Libby had converted the servants' bedrooms on the building’s second floor into her offices, giving the smaller room to her assistant, Connie Garrett, while keeping the larger one for her. Seeing Connie's car in the driveway, she hurried up the stairs to greet her.
"Hi, Lib," Connie called out when Libby appeared at the doorway. "Boy, are you late this morning. Out 'till the wee hours last night, I hope?"
"And wouldn't you like to know?" Libby replied teasingly to the 23-year old assistant she hired two years ago fresh out of college. Connie was bright, single, and led an active social life. What began as a working relationship gradually turned into an easy friendship, and they often shared confidences.
"Actually, I was up late, but not for the reason you're thinking."
"One of these days, you're going to waltz in here with