Page 13 of Two Hearts' Ploy

“This could be trouble,” she muttered aloud.

“Hi,” the salesperson said, as she approached. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Thank you, but I think I’d like to look around first,” Wren said, finally removing her sunglasses and slipping them into her purse. She had on her blond wig, so she was feeling fairly confident that she wouldn’t be recognized since she always gave a start when she glanced at herself in the mirror when she was wearing it.

There were several items she just had to have, including a marble topped mahogany entry table. She happened to have a perfect place for it at her New York apartment since she preferred her furnishings to be more formal there than at her place in Los Angeles. She hadn’t completely furnished the apartment yet since she’d only purchased it last year.

Maybe she could get away with having everything shipped there, come to think of it.

Wren approached the woman at the register. “If I pay for some items now, would you be able to store them for me until I can make arrangements to have them shipped?”

“Of course we can,” the woman she’d talked to earlier replied. “What items were you thinking about?”

After Wren pointed out everything that she was interested in and negotiated a better price on some, including the entry table, the woman appeared to be dazed as she pulled off tags and made a list.

When Wren brought out the cash to pay for everything, the woman blinked. “You didn’t rob a bank, did you?”

Wren started laughing. “Nah. I’m taking a break from everyday life and trying to lay low.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” the woman answered, winking. “I promise not to mention to anyone that Wren Matthews is here in town. I’m a good friend of Danielle Loughlin, formerly Danielle Reardon, so I know how to be discreet.”

“Darn. I really thought this wig made me indistinguishable.”

“It’s not so much that. It’s just that this town is big on music. Not only do a lot of our camp attendees imitate you, but so does my daughter. I’ve seen numerous videos of you performing.”

Wren blinked, before she began laughing.

They talked a little more about the music camp as the woman rang up her total on the register.

Another hour later, Wren was finally on her way to the Inn. She’d eaten a delicious lunch at a small restaurant inside the mall but had been given a complete list of all the hot spots here in town when she’d spoken to the girl who was waiting tables. She’d forgotten that check-in wasn’t until noon at the Inn, so she would have had to wait a few hours before having access to her room if she hadn’t stopped off at the mall.

As she followed the directions from the SUV’s GPS after leaving town, she hooked a left onto a winding two lane road.

Suddenly, a motorcycle came barreling onto the road from around the corner, the driver most obviously distracted since he was zooming down the middle of the blacktop.

Finally, he seemed to notice her, the SUV nearly making contact as they swerved to avoid one another, the biker moving to her left, while she skidded the SUV half off the road to her right, stopping after she heard a resounding thump.

She was pretty sure she had a flat tire, when she slammed her way outside from inside her vehicle, marching up to the guy as he disentangled himself from his bike.

“What in the hell were you doing, driving down the middle of the road?” she growled.

But then she noticed that his leg appeared to be twisted in an unnatural way.

“Oh, no,” she muttered. “Are you hurt?”

He looked up, but with his eyes hidden by sunglasses and his head covered with a helmet, she could see very little of his face.

But he appeared to be sheepish.

“Nah,” he replied, doing something to his leg with his hands as he stood.

Confused, Wren blinked, finally realizing that his right leg must have been a prosthetic.

“I suppose you did that to yourself when you had another accident. You’d think that you’d have learned that bikes aredangerous,”she said crossly.

For a moment, he appeared nonplussed, and then promptly began laughing loudly.

By the time he picked up his bike from the side of the road, putting down the kickstand, he seemed to have regained control.

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