Reluctant Deception - Cambria Smyth Page 0,66

written and pondered them as he put his shoes on.

He could say no more right now.

He'd grossly underestimated Libby and, where she was concerned, he'd made blunders right and left. There was so much they needed to discuss, but he wanted to do it in person. He'd tell her as much once he got settled in London. It was the least he could do.

Had she made love to him out of pity? Or was there more to it than that? He honestly didn't know. There was no time to wake her and demand an explanation for her actions, especially when he was struggling to find justification for his own.

Chris muttered a curse under his breath, wishing the trip abroad wasn't so crucial to closing a deal he'd been working on for over a year. But the long flight and week away would give him much-needed time to think. He hoped Libby would understand. This was hardly the ending he would have chosen for tonight, of all nights.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Libby read the carefully penned words. Usually barely intelligible, Chris's handwriting was crisp, clear, decisive. She scanned the note again, then struggled not to cry.

I've made a terrible mistake.

We need to talk.

I'll call from London.

They were the oldest lines in the book. He hadn't even bothered to sign his name.

Libby didn't expect a declaration of love, because she knew he didn't love her. Yet after last night, she was sure there was more between them than the undeniable physical attraction they felt for each other. Obviously, now that he'd had his curiosity--and sexual appetite--satisfied, he was moving on.

One night of ecstasy in his arms and she was ready to declare her love to the heavens. One night of wild, passionate sex and he was out the door with a damning farewell.

Libby felt like screaming, crying, or throwing a temper tantrum. Anything to release the anguish tearing at her soul.

She made her way over to the coffeemaker. Definitely a day for the strong, straight caffeine stuff she concluded, adding water and measuring the black grounds into the filter basket. She flicked the switch and stood there silently as feelings of humiliation and anger washed over her in relentless waves. She'd been used. And she didn't like it. Not one bit.

As the coffee maker hissed and sputtered, a plan for retaliation slowly germinated. It took root, grew, and blossomed as Libby examined and refined her next course of action.

She would tell Chris of her real identity, but this time it would be done as an act of revenge, rather than the act of love it would have been last night. As Libby mulled the plan over, she realized the possibilities were endless for using the confession to hurt him.

How would he react to learn he'd given his nemesis permission to use Harte's Desire? Better yet, what would he say knowing he'd spent the night, seduced, in his enemy's arms?

She would have the last laugh.

But she didn't want to confront him over the phone. Meeting him face to face, one-on-one, was the only way. She needed to see Edwina, to find out when Chris was due back from London. Libby poured the freshly-brewed coffee into a mug, took a long swallow, and reviewed her agenda for the day. She'd told Connie to go home after turning the report over to Edwina, since they'd worked so hard getting it ready. Then Libby remembered she was scheduled to inspect a historic train station in north Jersey, close to the New York border, and that she wouldn't be back until late in the afternoon.

Her visit to Harte's Desire would have to wait until Monday she realized with anxious regret. Since Chris was to be gone all week, a day didn't matter one way or the other. Besides, she wasn't quite ready to step back inside Harte's Desire again.

Given a choice, never again.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Libby turned the embossed brass knob on the front door and was surprised to find it didn't click open with its usual reluctance. Thinking it might be stuck or broken like so many things at Harte's Desire, Libby tried harder a second time but still couldn't get it to budge.

"Must be locked," she muttered, turning to walk around the house to the kitchen door. She'd seen Edwina's car in the driveway, so she knew someone was there.

Finding the back door off the kitchen open, Libby rushed in and hurried to Edwina's office in the butler's pantry. Edwina was busily typing at her computer, but looked up as