The Other Lady Vanishes (Burning Cove #2)(46)

He took her hand and steered her toward the open French doors. The lush gardens that surrounded the Paradise Club were a wonderland at night. The footpaths were illuminated with small, low-level lamps. Tiny lights sparkled in the tall hedges. The air was fragrant with the scents of flowers and citrus. The grounds had been designed to provide privacy for couples. Adelaide heard soft laughter and low murmurs wafting on the evening air.

Jake drew her to a halt in the deep shadows of an orange tree.

“Would you mind telling me why you’ve been so tense since you returned from your shopping trip with Raina this afternoon?” he said.

She froze. It took her a few seconds to recover.

“Why shouldn’t I be tense?” she whispered. “If your suspicions are correct, we may be hunting for a killer. At the very least we’re trying to locate a blackmailer. I’d say I have a lot of reasons to feel tense.”

“Take it easy. I agree with you. It’s just that you seem a little different tonight. Distracted. Jumpier than usual.”

So much for thinking that she had succeeded in concealing her emotions. Her temper spiked.

“Jumpier than usual?” she said.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” she said, careful to keep her tone very even.

Jake went preternaturally still. “Hush.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to—”

She closed her mouth because Jake had put one hand firmly over her lips. Before she could protest, he was easing her into the deep shadows of a nearby orange tree.

He took his hand away from her mouth and kissed her before she could catch her breath.

For a few seconds she was too astonished to react. And then a wild rush of excitement flashed through her. Some part of her had been anticipating the moment when Jake took her into his arms since the first time he had walked into the tearoom. She had sensed even then that his kiss would change her life, if only for one night.

She had been wrong.

Jake’s kiss was cold and calculating. There was nothing thrilling about it. His mouth was hard on hers, devoid of any trace of warmth and passion. She was still reeling from the disorienting shock when she heard the approach of rapid footsteps on the graveled path.

Understanding crackled through her. The kiss was not real. It was a screen kiss designed to fool an audience.

The footsteps drew closer. Whoever was coming their way would pass them in a few seconds. Jake was faking the kiss because he wanted whoever was coming toward them to think they were just another romantically inclined couple that had slipped into the gardens for some privacy.

She wound her arms around Jake’s neck and pressed herself very tightly against him, throwing herself into the role that he had assigned her. She knew how to play a part, she thought. Hellfire and damnation, did she know how to act. She had fooled a mad scientist, a couple of experienced nurses, some oversized orderlies, and the scheming bastard who ran the Rushbrook Sanitarium. When the occasion demanded it, she was as good an actress as any Hollywood star.

Her spirited response caught Jake off guard. It was his turn to freeze in surprise. She tightened her arms around his neck. The hurrying footsteps drew closer.

Jake lost control of the kiss. He groaned and crushed her against his chest. The clinical embrace went from ice-cold to red-hot and out of control between one heartbeat and the next.

The footsteps passed by and faded into the distance, but Jake did not relax his grip. Adelaide was just starting to realize that the storm of passion had become shatteringly real when it ended as suddenly as it had begun.

Jake ripped his mouth off hers, closed his hands around her forearms, and very carefully, very deliberately set her a short distance away.

Fingers as cold as the grave touched the back of her neck, just as they had earlier that afternoon. The heat of passion evaporated instantly. Panic churned in her stomach.

She opened her eyes and found herself looking past Jake’s broad shoulder. A tall, elegantly thin man in a white dinner jacket was just disappearing around a hedge. The light of a nearby garden lamp gleamed briefly on his oiled dark hair. He didn’t give any indication that he had noticed the couple embracing in the shadows of the orange tree. He moved like an angry, impatient, or, perhaps, very frustrated man.

He moved exactly like the man she had glimpsed in the shopping plaza that afternoon—exactly like Conrad Massey.

She realized that Jake was watching her with a disconcerting intensity. It was, she thought, almost as if he was suddenly a little wary of her.

“My apologies,” he said. His low voice was rough around the edges. “I was just trying to keep him from seeing you.”

She took a shaky breath. “I understand. I think you were successful.”

Jake searched her face.

“Did you get a look at him?”

“No, not really.” That much was true but it was not the whole truth. She needed time to think, but the panic rising inside her told her that time had run out. “I only saw him from the back. He was wearing a white evening jacket. Dark trousers. Dark hair.”

“That describes half the men in the Paradise tonight, including me.”

“No,” she said before she could stop herself. “It doesn’t describe you.”

“Are you sure?” He sounded wryly amused.

“You move . . . differently.” She waved her hands, struggling to explain. “Like a very large cat. A leopard or a mountain lion or . . . something. The man I saw did not walk the way you do. Never mind, I can’t explain it. You’ll have to take my word for it.”