Bailey realized with a stunned first glance, a striking woman. Surely, with three grown children and several grandchildren, she had to be at least fifty. She could have passed for a sleek thirty-five.
Her hair was a lush sable brown with hints of golden highlights and fashioned in a perfect and elegant French twist that complemented a face of ivory and cream, with cool green eyes, straight nose and sulky mouth. She wore an elegant tailored bronze-toned suit that nipped at her narrow waist.
The topaz stones at her ears were square-cut and big as a woman’s thumb and earned Bailey’s instant admiration.
“I’ve been busy,” Cade began. “A couple of cases, and some personal business.”
“I certainly don’t want to hear about your cases, as you call them.” Leona set her leather bag on the foyer table. “And whatever your personal business is, it’s no excuse for neglecting your family duties. You put me in a very awkward position with Pamela. I had to make your pathetic excuses.”
“You wouldn’t have had to make excuses if you hadn’t set it up in the first place.” He could feel the old arguments bubbling inside him, and he struggled not to fall into the familiar, too-predictable traps. “I’m sorry it put you in an awkward position. Do you want some coffee?”
“What I want, Cade, is an explanation. At Muffy’s garden party yesterday—which you also failed to attend—Ronald told me some wild tale about you being engaged to some woman I’ve never heard of with a connection to the Princess of Wales.”
“Bailey.” Because he’d all but forgotten her, Cade turned, offered an apologetic smile and held out a hand. “Bailey, come meet my mother.”
Oh, good God, was all that came into Bailey’s head as she descended the stairs.
“Leona Parris, meet Bailey, my fiancée.”
“Mrs. Parris.” Bailey’s voice trembled a bit as she offered a hand. “How wonderful to meet you. Cade has told me so much about you.”
“Really?” Attractive, certainly, Leona mused. Well-groomed, if a bit understated. “He’s told me virtually nothing about you, I’m afraid. I don’t believe I caught your full name.”
“Bailey’s only been in the States for a few months.” Cade barreled in, all cheer and delight. “I’ve been keeping her to myself.” He slipped an arm around Bailey’s shoulders, squeezed possessively. “We’ve had a whirlwind courtship, haven’t we, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” Bailey said faintly. “A whirlwind. You could say that.”
“And you’re a jewelry designer.” Lovely rings, Leona noted. Unique and attractive. “A distant cousin of the Princess of Wales.”
“Bailey doesn’t like to drop names,” Cade said quickly. “Sweetheart, maybe you ought to make those calls. Remember the time difference in London.”
“Where did you meet?” Leona demanded.
Bailey opened her mouth, struggling to remember if they’d spun this part of the lie for Ronald. “Actually—”
“At the Smithsonian,” Cade said smoothly. “In front of the Hope Diamond. I was researching a case, and Bailey was sketching designs. She looked so intent and artistic. It took me twenty minutes of fast talking and following her around—remember how you threatened to call the security guard, sweetheart? But I finally charmed her into having a cup of coffee with me. And speaking of coffee—”
“This is just ridiculous,” Bailey said, interrupting him. “Absolutely ridiculous. Cade, this is your mother, and I’m just not having it.” She turned, faced Leona directly. “We did not meet in the Smithsonian, and the Princess of Wales is not my cousin. At least I seriously doubt it. I met Cade on Friday morning, when I went to his office to hire him. I needed a private investigator because I have amnesia, a blue diamond and over a million dollars in cash.”
Leona waited ten humming seconds while her foot tapped. Then her lips firmed. “Well, I can see neither of you intends to tell the simple truth. As you prefer to make up outrageous fabrications, I can only presume that you’re perfectly suited to one another.”
She snatched up her bag and marched to the door with outraged dignity in every step. “Cade, I’ll wait to hear from you when you decide to grant me the courtesy of the simple truth.”
While Bailey simply stared, Cade grinned like a fool at the door his mother had closed with a snap.
“I don’t understand. I did tell her the truth.”
“And now I know what they mean by ‘the truth shall set you free.’” He let out a whooping laugh, swung her back up into his arms. “She’s so ticked off now she’ll leave me alone for a week. Maybe two.” He gave Bailey an enthusiastic kiss as he headed for the stairs. “I’m crazy about you. Who would have thought telling her the real story would have gotten her off my back?”
Still laughing, he carried her into the bedroom and dropped her on the mattress. “We’ve got to celebrate. I’ve got some champagne chilled. I’m going to get you drunk again.”
Pushing her hair out of her face, she sat up. “Cade, she’s your mother. This is shameful.”
“No, it’s survival.” He leaned over, gave her a smacking kiss this time. “And, sweetheart, we’re both black sheep now. I can’t tell you how much more fun that’s going to be for me.”
“I don’t think I want to be a black sheep,” she called as he headed out again.
“Too late.” His laughter echoed back to her.
Chapter 9
They did make it out to dinner. But they settled for grilled burgers and potatoes fried in peanut oil at a country fair in rural Maryland. He’d thought about a romantic little restaurant, then a fight through the teeming crowds downtown for the huge fireworks display.
Then inspiration had struck. Ferris wheels and shooting galleries. Live music, whirling lights, the flash of fireflies in a nearby field, with fireworks to top it off.
It was, he thought, the perfect first date.
When he told her just that, while she clung to him with screams locked in her throat on the whizzing car of the Tilt-A-Whirl, she laughed, shut her eyes tight and hung on for her life.
He wanted to ride everything, and he pulled her along from line to line, as eager as any of the children tugging on an indulgent parent’s hand. She was spun, shaken, twirled and zoomed until her head revolved and her stomach flopped.
Then he tilted her face upward for inspection, declared that since she wasn’t turning green yet they could do it all again.
So they did.
“Now, you need a prize,” he decided as she staggered off the Octopus.
“No more cotton candy. I’m begging you.”
“I was thinking more of an elephant.” He hooked an arm around her waist and headed toward the shooting gallery. “That big purple one up there.”
It
