Reluctant Deception - Cambria Smyth Page 0,9

one of the countertops.

Libby knew exactly what the problem was.

"I think the answer's in the dining room," she said. "Follow me."

Pushing through a swinging door, Libby walked into the elegant, paneled room that was now Chris's office. She pulled several of the side chairs away from the table and got down on her hands and knees. Although this was the last position she wanted to be seen in by Christopher Darnell, it couldn't be helped. She smoothed her hands over the worn Oriental rug covering the floor until her fingers found what she was searching for.

"Mrs. McElroy, if you check you'll find the noise has stopped. There's a call button under the rug here." Libby went on to explain, "The lady of the house would summon the maid or butler by pressing it with her foot. I must have accidentally set the chair on top of it while I was looking around earlier. Sorry about that. How amazing it still works!"

Libby stood up, straightening her T-shirt and brushing the dust off the knees of her jeans. A few more strands of hair escaped the tidy bun on top of her head, leaving her looking charmingly disarrayed. Sensing that she was being scrutinized, she glanced up to find Christopher Darnell gazing at her with a mixture of desire and...and what?

No one had ever looked at her that way before and she suddenly felt flattered to have this man's attention. Then she realized that if he knew her true identify, his look would be one of undisguised hatred and disgust instead.

It was definitely time to go.

"Well, glad I could help out," Libby said, eager to be on her way. "I'll send that letter of agreement right off to you, Mr. Darnell, er, Chris. And, thanks again for letting us use Harte's Desire."

She didn't dare shake his hand again. "No need to see me out; I know the way.” With all the composure she could muster, and with her heart beating in staccato, she turned and left the room.

If she could help it, she vowed, this would be her first, last, and only meeting with him. She'd have her committee members come over to take measurements of the rooms and move the furniture. The caterer could examine the kitchen layout on her own. She wouldn't have to go back there, to him, until the fundraiser.

And he probably wouldn't attend, anyway, she reassured herself, knowing of his unconcealed hatred for historic buildings.

"Miss Reed," Chris's deep voice commanded from behind as he caught up to her in the sunlit entrance hall.

Libby turned abruptly to face him, only to find his magnetic blue-green eyes focused sharply on her.

"Elizabeth," he began. "Have we met before?"

"Ah, n-no," she stammered.

"There's something about you I can't quite put my finger on. But I get this feeling we know each other."

"Trust me, Mr. Darnell. We've never met before this."

"Then why do you seem so familiar to me?" Chris continued to study her with great interest.

"I really don't know. Maybe I just remind you of someone." Libby shrugged nonchalantly, even though her insides were a trembling mass of raw nerves. "And, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way. Good day."

With renewed determination to leave as quickly as possible, she turned away from him, opened one of the massive double doors, and stepped into the bright May sunshine.

Yes, she reasoned, if she was lucky, she would never have to see Christopher Darnell again.

Chapter Four

It took Libby almost a full minute to realize that the persistent ringing in her ear was coming from the cell phone by her bed and not the one in her troubled dream. Actually the dream was a nightmare, with Christopher Darnell on the line, demanding to know if she was Libby Chatham.

Groggily, she answered and heard a huge sigh of relief on the other end. She barely croaked out a sleepy "hello.”

"Miss Reed?"

"Yes?" It was too early for more than a one word response.

"This is Edwina McElroy, Mr. Darnell's secretary. Did I wake you up?"

Libby slowly opened one eye and squinted at the clock on her cell phone; the lighted screen read 9:02 and she realized with horror that she'd slept the better part of the morning away.

"Oh, Mrs. McElroy, no, you didn't..." she started to say.

"It doesn't matter, honey, if I did or didn't. You just sounded sleepy to me," Mrs. McElroy said kindly before changing the subject. "The boss asked me to give you a call this morning. He wants to know if you