Charade (Swept Away, #1.5) by J.S. Cooper
To my owl,
thanks for watching over me
prologue
I knew it was him as soon as I saw him across the room. He was handsomer than he’d looked in his photo. Short dark hair, sparkling vibrant green eyes. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world—just like most men who grew up with money. Preppy, rich, laid back, shrewd—I had him all figured out. I took a quick swig of my wine and made my way across the room.
One, two, three. I took another swig and stumbled forward. The rest of the wine poured out of the glass and onto his crisp white shirt.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, looking shocked.
“Don’t worry about it.” He gave me a wide smile and his eyes crinkled as he looked down at me.
“I’m such a klutz.”
“You’re a pretty klutz, so it’s okay.” He winked at me, his eyes assessing my face swiftly and keenly, and I felt myself flushing as I looked down with a half-smile. The makeup and new outfit had worked.
“I feel like I owe you a shirt, or at least a dry cleaning.” I pulled my father’s handkerchief out of my pocket and patted his shirt down. It felt appropriate to be using my father’s favorite handkerchief in this moment. I ignored the feel of his solid chest beneath my fingers and the twinkle in his eye as I cleaned up the mess I’d made.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you spilled wine on me just to meet me.” He laughed easily, not knowing just how true his words were. “But I’ve never been so lucky as to get a beautiful woman like you after me.”
“Maybe today’s your lucky day.” I tilted my head and smiled at him. How modest of him to pretend that women weren’t tripping over themselves to get to him. If this was a different situation, I might have wanted to get to know him a little better.
“I think it just might be. I’m David, by the way.” He held his hand out and I took it gingerly, shaking it limply. No need for him to think I was strong and confident with a firm handshake.
“I’m Bianca. Nice to meet you, David.” I smiled at him widely. Very nice to finally meet you, David Bradley, I thought to myself. I couldn’t believe that the moment was finally here.
one
I’m not sure anything can prepare you for the loss of a loved one, even if you know it’s coming. My father was bedridden with pancreatic cancer for the last six months of his life and still I was devastated when he passed away. He died in the middle of the night, and I still regret the fact that I hadn’t been able to say goodbye to him.
“This is for you.” Larry, my father’s lawyer, handed me two boxes and frowned. Larry Renee had been a godsend to me, dealing with the hospital administration and taking care of my father’s funeral arrangements. “Are you going to be okay, Bianca?”
“I’ll be fine.” I nodded, taking the boxes.
“Your dad wanted to leave you something, but the medical expenses . . .” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.
“It’s okay. I’ve got two hands and two legs. I can work. Professors don’t make a lot of money, but I’ll survive. Even if I have to take a tenure-track job in Missouri.”
“Have you been offered one there?” he asked hopefully.
“No, but I’m not looking yet. I still have to get my PhD to be considered for a faculty position at a university. I could go the community college route, I suppose. Or I could pretend I have one. I wouldn’t be the first. Did you ever see that movie Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead?”
“Sorry, what?” He frowned.
“Oh, it’s a movie about a girl who pretends she has a college degree and—”
“Bianca, you know that you can always stay with my wife and me if you’re feeling stressed. Your father and I knew each other for a long time and I want you to know you can count on me.” I could see from the expression on his face that my little aside had him seriously confused.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you, Uncle Larry.”
“Your father was upset he couldn’t leave you any money,” he said, bringing up the awkward subject of money. “I just don’t understand it. He had so many inventions.” He made a face and looked me in the eyes, searching for something that I knew nothing about.
“I guess he just wasn’t good with money.”
“I suppose.” He sighed. “He stopped coming to me after your mother died. He never got over her car accident.” He paused and looked up at me with a worried expression. “He was so upset. He had all kinds of crazy theories.”