Page 13 of Smokescreen

“Okay, so before we get too far, I think I’ve come up with a decent cover story,” she started. “Want to hear it?”

“I look forward to it.” His eyes twinkled with curiosity as he paused and leaned against a wooden fence.

Olive copied his stance and stood across from him, her hip perched against the fence also. “You went to northern California last month for the livestock convention.”

His eyebrows rose. “You do your research.”

“Please don’t expect—or accept—anything less.”

He grinned. “I won’t.”

“Anyway, while you were there, the two of us met. My family owns a vineyard, but we’re looking to diversify.”

“That could work . . .”

“We ran into each other, we bantered, we had dinner . . . and the rest is history.” The two of them had good chemistry together, which would help sell their cover story. Chemistry was never something that could be predicted.

“Sounds believable.” His approving gaze stayed on her a moment longer.

Good. Olive liked it when her clients were satisfied. “I think a month ago seems safe. It will give us enough time to have met and gotten to know each other better. Now I’ve flown here for a visit before we take our relationship to the next level. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Just then, Olive spotted an SUV barreling down the lane. Dust flew up behind the black vehicle. The driver turned sharply before charging up the driveway toward the Homestead.

Olive frowned as she watched the vehicle. “Any idea who that is?”

Reid glared at the SUV. “It’s Lucy Bondurant . . . my former stepsister and possibly the most entitled person I’ve ever met.”

Olive strolled with Reid back toward the house. Though Reid seemed anxious to figure out why Lucy was here, he didn’t rush to meet the woman.

Olive could appreciate that. It was a good rule for investigations: Never show your hand or let someone know they have you rattled.

They reached the porch just as Lucy stepped from her Cadillac SUV, gingerly releasing one slender leg at a time.

She strode toward them before raising her oversized sunglasses to the top of her head.

The tall, thin blonde looked as if she could have been a supermodel.

Except for her scowl. There was nothing beautiful about that.

“Reid . . .” she purred.

“Lucy . . . you’re the last person I was expecting to see,” Reid started, his voice harder than it had been only seconds earlier.

The woman’s gaze flickered from Reid to Olive then back to Reid.

“Who is she?” An almost accusatory sound ripped through her otherwise velvety voice.

“Is that any way to greet my new girlfriend?”

Lucy’s eyebrows pinged upward again. “Your new girlfriend? Don’t you mean your new flavor of the month?”

Reid bristled as if he didn’t appreciate her words. “What are you doing here, Lucy?”

She sashayed closer, reminding Olive of a boa constrictor about to encircle its prey.

“You didn’t finish introducing us.” Lucy extended her long, slender arm. “Lucy Bondurant.”