The Seductive Impostor by Janet Chapman

suspicion. “It also implies ‘in secret,’ as if there is more than the eye can see. What can’t I see, Miss Foster? Secret passageways? Tunnels leading from the house to the cliffs below?”
    â€œThadd named it for the roses,” she said, refusing to be baited. “They grow wild here—in abundance,” she added, absently waving toward the cliff.
    He was looking at her as if he could read her mind. Rachel pushed one of the chair’s wheels to turn herself away.
    â€œI’ll find the real blueprints, you know.”
    She turned toward him again. And she smiled. “They’re in the library. I’ll go over them with you, if you want.”
    His eyes narrowed again. “They won’t show me the tunnels, will they?”
    â€œNo. Because there are no tunnels.”
    â€œYou need lessons in lying, lady,” he said, suddenly standing up.
    Rachel flinched. But he only walked toward the house and took the tray Peter was carrying toward them.
    Keenan set it in front of her. Rachel looked at the food and tried to figure out what it was they intended to feed her.
    Keenan took his seat across from her again, and Peter quickly disappeared. Rachel turned to see him slip back into the house. “Coward,” she muttered, only to turn back at the sound of Keenan’s laughter.
    â€œCooking is not one of their strong points,” he said, poking the concoction with a fork. He shoveled some of it into a plate and set it down in front of her. “Eat, Rachel. It’s about all you’re going to get until I can hire a cook.”
    â€œFranny Watts is available,” she said, prodding the food with her fork. It didn’t jump out of the plate, so she figured it was at least dead.
    â€œShe live nearby?”
    â€œIn town,” she said, tentatively scooping some of the hash onto her fork. She held it up and stared at it. “She used to cook for Thadd. She’d probably jump at the chance to have six huge men to cook for.”
    Her host reached out and stayed her hand before she could take a bite. He pushed on her arm until she set the fork back down on her plate.
    â€œHow about I take you into town and we find a fast-food place? It’s got to be healthier than this stuff. And we’ll stop by your house long enough to get you some clothes.” He looked her up and down, the corner of his mouth lifting. “As cute as those sweats are, I think you’ll feel more comfortable if you don’t have to live in clothes you’ve slept in.”
    Rachel silently fingered the hem of her sweatshirt. The clothes were hers, and she’d been trying—really hard—not to think about how she’d gotten into them. Her last memory of last night had been of her sitting on her couch like a zombie, her eyelids getting heavy, her fear and frustration ebbing away in a cloud of fuzzy peacefulness.
    She could not remember changing her clothes.
    And she could not bring herself to ask Keenan Oakes if he had changed them for her.
    â€œWhy not just drop me off at my house? My sister will be home this afternoon, and your house is up and running enough for the time being.”
    Rachel watched, amazed if not shocked, as his entire face suddenly softened. “You can’t take care of yourself, Rachel. And I called Wendell Potter this morning, and he said your sister was gone until the weekend.”
    He shifted in his seat and set his elbows on the table on either side of his untouched plate, steepling his fingers and tapping his chin as he stared at her. “I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t keep bugging you about being in my library last night if you stay here until your sister gets back.”
    â€œI…no, I want to go home.”
    â€œYou’ll have free rein of the house,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ll have an electric wheelchair delivered this afternoon, so you can get around and still