LITMIR.BIZ

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could include anywhere from a half-dozen to a hundred guests. Adam hoped like hell his mother wouldn’t be there drinking herself into oblivion. Lauryn would get a dose of Bonita Garrison soon enough.

      After the wedding he and Lauryn would have to attend some of the Sunday family dinners, but until then he didn’t dare risk letting his mother’s increasingly bitter barbs scare off Lauryn because he didn’t have the time or inclination to search out another wife candidate. The nominating committee had already begun their search.

      Guilt nagged at Adam as he dragged on a silk shirt. Finding out her husband of thirty-eight years had a twenty-seven-year-old illegitimate daughter from a long-term and on-going affair couldn’t have been easy for his mother. But that was no excuse for pickling her liver by living in a bottle of booze. His mother’s drinking had been a problem for as long as Adam could remember, and with it came the lies and excuses to cover the things she’d done or forgotten to do. But the situation had worsened since the reading of the will and the open acknowledgment of Cassie, his father’s illegitimate daughter by his Bahamian lover.

      Adam made a note to hire a full-time driver for his mother. He couldn’t risk letting her get behind the wheel of a car. And he needed to talk to his siblings about drying her out before she killed herself.

      He stepped into his trousers and pulled them over his bare butt. He hadn’t known about his halfsister, Cassie, but he had known about his father’s affair for years. Should he have told his mother? Or had she already known? Was that why she drank?

      Five years ago during a trip to the Bahamas, Adam had stumbled upon his father and Cassie’s mother in an intimate clench. He’d tried to force his father to end the affair and failed. The confrontation had been ugly. Later that same year his father had turned over the running of Garrison, Inc. to Parker and the hotel operations to Stephen. Adam had received nothing. Nada.

      And now it was too late to make things right with his father.

      He tamped down the loss and frustration tightening his chest and finished dressing, then grabbed his keys and cell phone and jogged down the stairs. He couldn’t go backward. He could only move forward.

      For his plan to work he needed absolute secrecy. Only Brandon knew the whole truth behind Adam’s proposal. And even though his best friend was crazy in love with Adam’s newly discovered half sister, Adam knew he could count on Brandon to keep his lips zipped. Not just because of client confidentiality, but because Brandon was that kind of guy—as honest and loyal as a summer day is long.

      In the meantime, Adam would keep Lauryn away from his family until the contracts were signed and the wedding knot was tightly tied—and he had no doubt it would be tied. If Lauryn slipped up and revealed his strategy to his siblings he wouldn’t have a chance in hell of gaining more involvement in Garrison, Inc.

      But first he had to get through Monday evening. A night at the Ainsleys’ wouldn’t be pleasant, but neither would it be a total waste of time. With Lauryn on his arm he’d schmooze with the movers and shakers of the community who could aid in his quest for the council nomination.

      A win-win situation.

      He’d score points with Lauryn and for himself.

      And he’d do what he did best.

      He’d turn on the charm and land himself a bride.

      Three

      Yet another dead end.

      Lauryn tried to keep her steps from dragging as she followed Adam into the moist evening air and across the brick courtyard toward his car. She’d pinned her hopes on walking in her birthmother’s footsteps tonight. But Adrianna Laurence had never set foot in the Ainsleys’ house. At least, not this one.

      Lauryn’s disappointment was almost enough to distract her from the feel of Adam’s hand wrapped around hers. Hot. Firm. Electric.

      He’d been attentive all evening with a casual touch at her waist here, a brush of his hand against hers there. It hadn’t taken her long to realize his every move had been designed to convince the other guests they were a couple. And yet he hadn’t said one dishonest word or made a single inappropriate gesture to which she could object.

      Much as she disliked the situation, she had to face facts. Being a pawn in Adam’s scheme had its benefits. She’d been the only outsider at the gathering tonight, but because she was Adam’s date she’d been welcomed into her birthmother’s stratum by the same people who’d refused to speak to her a few months ago. People who had very likely known her birthmother.

      With a little Garrison grease to oil the hinges she’d made more progress tonight in two hours of chitchat than she had in weeks of knocking on doors and researching microfiche newspaper articles and county documents. She didn’t have her answers yet because it was too soon to ask without risking rejection, but as long as she was beside Adam she could build the tentative connections to find out what she wanted so desperately to know.

      Adam opened the car door, but Lauryn didn’t climb in. She pivoted in her flat sandals and studied the ostentatious home. Lights streamed from every window, painting stripes across the dark grounds. “You’re telling me the Ainsleys demolished a perfectly good house and built a new one in the same spot?”

      “Five years ago.”

      “But why?” She turned back to Adam and realized he’d moved close enough to loom above her—far too close for her peace of mind. The tang of his cologne, a crisp lime scent, teased her senses, and she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Her body still hummed from his unexpected touches throughout the evening and his proximity overwhelmed her.

      One small step and they’d be breast-to-chest, hip-to-hip. Her gaze drifted to his lips. With all the practice he’d had, she’d bet he was a great kisser. If he bent his head—

      No kisses. Back up.

      But she couldn’t. Trapped as she was between the car and Adam’s lean frame, there was nowhere to run. She forced her eyes away from his mouth and dragged a lungful of the heavily scented night air into her chest, but she couldn’t identify the flowers she smelled.

      Had her mother known the names? Had Adrianna been a plant lover? A swimmer? A shopaholic? A night owl or morning person? Tall, short, introvert or extrovert? Had she been a rule follower or a rule breaker? Knowing nothing frustrated Lauryn and left her feeling empty. Adrift.

      Adam shrugged. “With the shortage of land and surplus of cash in South Florida it’s a common practice to tear down and start fresh. Sometimes massive reconstruction is due to hurricane damage, but in this case Helene wanted renovations that exceeded the value of the house.”

      Alarm streaked through her. “Your house hasn’t been razed has it?”

      His eyes narrowed as if he could hear the panic she couldn’t quite keep out of her voice. “No. It’s the original structure. Why?”

      Get a grip, Lauryn. She forced a smile. “I…um, love history. I hate to see it erased. We’re close to your place, aren’t we? Would you show it to me?”

      He hesitated so long she thought he’d refuse. “Sure. There’s no one staying there this week.”

      She slid into the car with so much anticipation and excitement bubbling through her veins that she could barely sit still.

      Adam drove off the Ainsley property, down the palm-shadowed street and then pulled into a short driveway blocked by another set of elaborately coiled iron gates and stopped the car. He tapped a security code onto a recessed keypad and the wide gates silently glided open.

      Emotion clogged Lauryn’s throat as the car rolled into a circular brick courtyard and around the center fountain. Sensor lights flicked on, flooding the area with light. Scrambling to absorb it all at once, she ticked off details in her mind. Mediterranean style. Four-car garage to the left. Arched windows. Carved columns. Deep, shadowed porches.

      Her birthmother’s home. Lauryn’s heart thumped as hard and fast as a helicopter’s

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