“Thanks for the information,” he said.
Before leaving town, he stopped at a dry goods store and bought a tractor cap and a work shirt, which he put on in the men’s room. He would have to stop and buy some more clothing, because he’d lost everything in the explosion. But he had brought his computer along in the car, which kept him from having to make a major purchase.
After doing what he could on short notice to disguise his appearance, he used the GPS to find Old River Road, then drove south. As the gas station attendant had said, the Reynard estate was surrounded by a high chain-link fence, topped with razor wire. A gate manned by several guards controlled access to the property. As he drove past without stopping, he glimpsed a stately plantation house through the live oaks lining the drive.
How much surveillance equipment did Reynard have, he wondered as he put a mile between himself and the gate. Pulling off the road, into a small clearing, he tried to send his mind to Stephanie, but he was too far away and couldn’t reach her.
He’d have to come back at night, hoping that he could get close enough without alerting Reynard’s goons.
A knock at the door made Stephanie go rigid. When the door opened, she expected to see John, but it was only Claire.
“How are you feeling?” her assistant asked.
“Better.”
“Dinner is in an hour. I’m sure you want John to see you at your best. Why don’t you take a nice hot shower and look through the clothes in the closet.”
“Thank you,” she said, as she climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom, which turned out to be large and luxurious—a place she would have enjoyed if her stomach hadn’t been tied in knots.
A shower and nice clothing. Was John thinking about taking her to bed after dinner? If he was, she prayed she could derail that plan.
Once she’d showered, she dried her hair and tamed it into a style she knew John had admired. Then she went to the closet to see what outfits were available.
There were a number of tasteful gowns and dresses, probably chosen by Claire, who was using the knowledge of style she’d learned at the shop.
Stephanie ground her teeth when she thought about her sweet little assistant. It went to show that you couldn’t always tell a person’s real motivation. She should have thought about that when she let John Reynard into her life. Well, it was too late to worry about what she should have done. She had to think carefully about what she was going to do now.
After looking through the dresses, she selected a pale green dinner gown, then did a careful job with her makeup, trying to present herself as the happy bride who had finally moved into the very well-appointed home of her fiancé.
But she hesitated at the door to her room, wishing she could stay locked away where John couldn’t touch her.
“Stop it,” she muttered to herself. “You have to face him, and you have to make him absolutely sure that you’re relieved to be here.”
After taking a deep breath and letting it out, she stepped into the hall and headed for the stairs.
John and Claire were waiting for her in the drawing room, sitting with their heads together, speaking in low voices. She stood for a moment in the doorway, observing the intimacy between them, and confirming her earlier thought that they were probably sleeping together. That would have made her angry if she’d cared about her relationship with John Reynard. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t help thinking that the other woman was doing her a big favor by letting John satisfy his carnal needs with her instead of his fiancée.
They stopped talking abruptly when they noticed her in the doorway, and she couldn’t help thinking that they had been talking about her.
John looked her up and down, taking in the makeup and the dress she’d chosen.
“I must say, you look lovely, my dear,” he said, getting up and coming over to plant a kiss on her cheek.
“Thank you.”
“Can I offer you some wine? I remember you like merlot.”
“Yes,” she answered. She wasn’t going to drink much because she needed to keep her wits about her. But she’d got an idea when John had offered her a drink.
She looked toward the glass he’d left on the end table and saw amber liquid and ice cubes. Probably bourbon, which was his whiskey of choice.
Have some more bourbon,she silently told him.Drink more bourbon. You want to drink a lot of it tonight—to celebrate your impending marriage.
She waited with her heart pounding while he poured her a glass of red wine, then hesitated for a moment at the bar.
Again, she sent her message and felt a thrill of relief and satisfaction when he reached for the Jack Daniels bottle and poured himself a drink.
He brought her the wine, then did a double take when he realized he already had a glass of whiskey sitting on the side table. Quickly he took it away and put it in the sink.
