Low Country Liar Read Online Free

Old Charleston, in an old merchant building with ornate cornice trim around the roof.
    The instant Lisa entered the offices she had the impression of a small, exclusive practice. Richly paneled walls, their wood gleaming with the patina of years, emitted a studious air, while antiques and plush leather furniture added intimacy to the overall atmosphere.
    The receptionist was an older woman with sleekly coiffed gray hair. She wore glasses with half lenses which she peered over at Lisa. Yet she managed to exude an attitude of polite deference.
    "May I help you?"
    "I'm here to see Mr. Slade Blackwell." Lisa didn't bother to inform the woman she didn't have an appointment nor that he didn't know her.
    Surprisingly no questions were put to her as the woman nodded her head toward a set of carved oak double doors. "His office is through those doors."
    This was going to be easier than she had thought. No preliminary introductions to be forwarded to him. No explanations as to why she was there. Slade Blackwell was proving to be much more accessible than she had believed.  
    The doors opened to a small office, complete with desk, typewriter and filing cabinets. Obviously it was supposed to be manned by his private secretary, but there was no one in sight to greet Lisa. Closing the doors, she walked into the office, deciding it had been partitioned from a larger room.
    An overstuffed leather armchair was in a corner with an old wooden magazine rack and smokestand beside it, but Lisa didn't take its invitation to sit and wait. Instead she walked to the vacant secretary's desk. Except for an opened appointment book, it was tidily swept clean of any papers.
    She glanced cautiously toward the door leading to Slade Blackwell's private office. There were no sounds coming from it, but the walls of the building were thick. Carefully she slid the appointment book around to peep at his day's agenda.
    Without warning the door was opened, and Lisa nearly jumped out of her shoes. She quickly concealed her start of guilty surprise to inspect the man confronting her. His tall, leanly muscled build was clothed in an impeccably tailored suit of oyster gray, complete with waistcoat.
    There the lawyer image ended and the man began. And he made an immediate physical impact on Lisa. The breath she had been holding she released slowly, then seemed unable to take another. Every nerve in her body quivered with the alertness of an animal scenting danger.
    This was Slade Blackwell. Lisa needed no introduction. If she had expected the suave image of a Southern gentleman, chivalrous and courtly, charming a rich widow with his pearly smile, she would have needed to make an immediate reassessment. Somehow, though, Lisa hadn't got as far as picturing her opponent.
    Strong and masterful, Mitzi had described him. Meek words, Lisa concluded silently. Belligerently male, he was as hard as a piece of granite that had somehow managed to come to life. He exuded an air of vitality that seemed to smother, a sensual power that was overwhelming. At least, Lisa felt its suffocating force.
    Raven-black hair grew thickly away from his forehead, seeming to appear waywardly casual in its style. His eyes were the color of his hair, burning like black coals yet possessing the sharpness of an eagle. No gentle spaniel-brown eyes for Slade Blackwell.
    Tanned lean cheeks, faintly hollowed, accented the angular slant of his jaw to a thrusting chin. There was an unyielding firmness to his mouth that seemed to suggest a latent ruthlessness in getting what hewanted. Dark, thick brows managed to appear finely drawn. One was arched slightly higher than the other now in arrogant censure.
    "It's about time you arrived." His voice was low pitched. It might have been pleasant had his tone not been sharpened by tightly leashed impatience. "The agency had assured me they would have someone here by nine-thirty. It is now half past ten. There are some important letters that need to be out right away.