Substitute Seduction

She’s serving up red-hot revenge...

and bound to get burned!

London McCaffrey made a deal to get revenge at any cost. Her target? One of Charleston’s most influential men. But his brother, gorgeous race-car driver Harrison Crosby, stands in her way as a sexy distraction. He’s unleashed a torrent of desire that could catch London in her own web of deception. Will her best-laid plans backfire, breaking both their hearts?

CAT SCHIELD has been reading and writing romance since high school. Although she graduated from college with a BA in business, her idea of a perfect career was writing books for Mills & Boon. And now, after winning the Romance Writers of America 2010 Golden Heart® Award for Best Contemporary Series Romance, that dream has come true. Cat lives in Minnesota with her daughter, Emily, and their Burmese cat. When she’s not writing sexy, romantic stories for Mills & Boon Desire, she can be found sailing with friends on the Saint Croix River, or in more exotic locales, like the Caribbean and Europe. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at catschield.net and follow her on Twitter, @catschield.

Also by Cat Schield

At Odds with the Heiress

A Merger by Marriage

A Taste of Temptation

The Black Sheep’s Secret Child

Little Secret, Red Hot Scandal

The Heir Affair

Upstairs Downstairs Baby

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Substitute Seduction

Cat Schield

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07692-0

SUBSTITUTE SEDUCTION

© 2018 Catherine Schield

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Extract

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

“We need to get back at all of them. Linc, Tristan and Ryan. They need to be taught a lesson.”

When Everly Briggs had decided to attend the Beautiful Women Taking Charge event, she’d researched the attendees and settled on two women she believed she could convince to participate in a devious plot to take down three of Charleston, South Carolina’s most influential men.

Each of the three women had shared a tale of being wronged. Linc Thurston had broken his engagement to London McCaffrey. Zoe Crosby had just gone through a brutal divorce. But what Ryan Dailey had done to Everly’s sister, Kelly, was by far the worst.

“I don’t know about this,” London said, chewing on her coral-tinted lip. “If I go after Linc, it will blow up in my face.”

“She’s right.” Zoe nodded. “Anything we try would only end up making things worse for us.”

“Not if we go after each other’s men,” Everly said, pierced by a thrill as her companions started to look hopeful. “Think about it. We’re strangers at a cocktail party. Who would ever connect us? I go after Linc. London goes after Tristan and, Zoe, you go after Ryan.”

“When you say ‘go after,’” Zoe said hesitantly, “what do you have in mind?”

“Everyone has skeletons in their closet. Especially powerful men. We just need to find out where the worst ones are hiding and let them out.”

“I’m in,” London said. “Linc deserves to feel a little pain and humiliation for ending our engagement the way he did.”

Zoe nodded. “Count me in, too.”

“Marvelous,” Everly said, letting only a small amount of her glee show as she lifted her glass. “Here’s to making them pay.”

“And pay,” London echoed.

“And pay,” Zoe finished.

One

The party celebrating the ten-year anniversary of the Dixie Bass-Crosby Foundation was in full swing as Harrison Crosby strolled beneath the Baccarat crystal-and-brass chandelier hanging from the restored antebellum mansion’s fifteen-foot foyer ceiling. Snagging a glass of champagne from a circling waitress, Harrison passed from the broad foyer with its white marble floor and grand columns toward the ballroom, where a string quartet played in the corner.

Thirty years ago Harrison’s uncle Jack Crosby had purchased the historic Groves Plantation, located thirty-five miles outside the city of Charleston, intending to headquarter Crosby Motorsports on the hundred-acre property. At the time, the 1850s mansion had been in terrible shape and they’d been on the verge of knocking it down when both Virginia Lamb-Crosby and Dixie Bass-Crosby—Harrison’s mother and aunt respectively—had raised a ruckus. Instead the Crosby family had dumped a ton of money into the historic renovation to bring it up to code and make it livable. The result was a work of art.

Although Harrison had attended dozens of charity events supporting his family’s foundations over the years, the social whirl bored him. He’d much rather just donate the money and skip all the pomp and circumstance. Despite the Crosby wealth and the old family connections his aunt and mother could claim, Harrison had nothing in common with the Charleston elite and preferred his horsepower beneath the hood of his Ford rather than on the polo field.

Which was why he intended to greet his family, make as little small talk as he could and get the hell out. With only three races left in the season, Harrison needed to stay focused on preparations. And he needed as much mental and physical stamina as possible.

Spying his mother, Harrison made his way toward her. She was in conversation with a younger woman he didn’t recognize. As he drew near, Harrison recognized his mistake. His mother’s beautiful blonde companion wore no ring on her left hand. Whenever his mother encountered someone suitable, she always schemed to fix him up. She didn’t understand that his racing career took up all his time and energy. Or she did get it and hoped that a wife and family might persuade him to give it all up and settle down.

Harrison was on the verge of angling away when Virginia “Ginny” Lamb-Crosby noticed his approach and smiled triumphantly.

“Here’s my son,” she proclaimed, reaching with her left hand to draw Harrison in. “Sawyer, this is Harrison. Harrison, I’d like you to meet Sawyer Thurston.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harrison said, frowning as he tried to place her name. “Thurston...”

“Linc Thurston is my brother,” Sawyer clarified, obviously accustomed to explaining about her connection to the professional baseball player.

Harrison nodded. “Sure.”

Before he could say anything more, his mother reinserted herself into the conversation. “Sawyer is a member of Charleston’s Preservation Society and we were just talking about the historic home holiday tour. She wants to know if I’d be willing to open the Jonathan Booth House this year. What do you think?”

This was the exact sort of nonsense that he hated getting involved in. No matter what his or anyone else’s opinion, Ginny Lamb-Crosby would do exactly as she liked.

He leaned down to kiss her cheek and murmured, “I think you should ask Father since it’s his house, too.”

After a few more polite exchanges Harrison pretended to see someone he needed to talk to and excused himself. As he strolled around the ballroom, smiling and greeting those he knew, his gaze snagged on a beautiful woman in a gown of liquid sky. Her long honeyed hair hung in rolling waves over her shoulders with one side pulled back to show off her sparkly dangle earring. In a roomful of beautiful women, she stood out to him because rather than smiling and enjoying herself, the blonde with big eyes and pale pink lips wore a frown. She seemed to barely be listening to her chatty companion, a shorter, plump brunette of classic beauty and pouty lips.

She seemed preoccupied by... Harrison followed her gaze and realized she was staring at his brother, Tristan. This should have warned Harrison off. The last thing he wanted to do was to get tangled up with one of his brother’s castoffs. But the woman inspired more than just his curiosity. He had an immediate and intense urge to get her alone to see if her lips were as sweet as they looked, and that hadn’t happened in far too long.

Turning his back on the beauty, he headed to where his aunt was holding court on one side of the room near a large television playing a promotional video about the Dixie Bass-Crosby Foundation. In addition to helping families with sick children, the foundation supported K–12 education programs focused on literacy. Over the last ten years, his aunt had given away nearly ten million dollars and her family was very proud of her.

Yet even as Harrison exchanged a few words with his aunt, uncle and their group, his attention returned to the lovely blonde in the blue dress. The more he observed her, the more she appeared different from the ladies who normally appealed to him. Just as beautiful, but not a bubbly party girl. More reserved. Someone his mother would approve of.

The more he watched her, the more he labeled her as uptight. Not in a sexual way, like she wouldn’t know an orgasm if it reached out and slapped her, but in a manner that said her whole life was a straitjacket. If not for her preoccupation with Tristan, he might’ve turned away.

He simply had to find out who she was, so he went in search of his uncle. Bennett Lamb knew where all the bodies were buried and traded in gossip like other men bought and sold stock, real estate or collectibles.

Harrison found the Charleston icon holding court near the bar. In black pants and a cream honeycomb dinner jacket with a gold bow tie and pocket square, Bennett outshone many of the female guests in the fashion department.

“Do you have a second?” Harrison asked, glancing around to make sure his quarry hadn’t escaped.

One of Bennett’s well-groomed eyebrows went up. “Certainly.”

The two men moved off a couple of feet and Harrison indicated the woman who’d interested him. “Do you know who that is?”

Amusement dancing in his eyes, his uncle gazed in the direction Harrison indicated. “Maribelle Gates? She recently became engaged to Beau Shelton. Good family. Managed to hold on to their wealth despite some shockingly bad advice from Roland Barnes.”

Harrison silently cursed at the word engaged. Why was she so interested in Tristan if she was unavailable? Maybe she was cheating on her fiancé. Wary of letting his uncle think he’d shown an interest in someone who was engaged, he asked, “And the brunette?”

“Maribelle Gates is the brunette.” Bennett saw where his nephew was going and shook his head. “Oh, you were interested in the blonde. That’s London McCaffrey.”

“London.” He experimented with the taste of her name and liked it. “Why does her name ring a bell?”

“She was engaged to Linc Thurston for two years.”

“I just met his sister.” Harrison returned to studying London.

Meanwhile his uncle kept talking. “He recently broke off the engagement. No one knows why, but it’s rumored he’s been sleeping with...” Bennett’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “His housekeeper.”

An image of the heavyset fifty-year-old woman who maintained his parents’ house popped into Harrison’s mind and he grimaced. He pondered the willowy blonde and wondered what madness had gripped Linc to let her go.

“He doesn’t seem the type to go after his housekeeper.”

“You never know about some people.”

“So why is everyone convinced that he’s sleeping with her?”

“Convinced is a strong word,” his uncle said. “Let’s just say that there’s speculation along those lines. Linc hasn’t been out with anyone since he and London broke up. There’s been not a whisper of another romance on anyone’s radar. And, from what I hear, she’s a young widow with a toddler.”

Harrison shoved aside the gossip and refocused on the object of his interest. The more Bennett speculated about the reason Linc Thurston had for ending the engagement, the less he liked London’s interest in his brother. She deserved better. Tristan had always treated women poorly, as his recent behavior during his divorce from his wife of eight years demonstrated. Not only had Tristan cheated on her the entire time they were married, he’d hired a merciless divorce attorney, and Zoe had ended up with almost nothing.

“Now, if you’re looking for someone to date, I’d like to suggest...”

Harrison tuned out the rest of his uncle’s remarks as he continued to puzzle over London McCaffrey. “Is she seeing anyone at the moment?” Harrison asked, breaking into whatever it was his uncle was going on about.

“Ivy? I don’t believe so.”

“No,” Harrison said, realizing he hadn’t been paying attention to whatever pearls of wisdom his uncle had been shelling out. “London McCaffrey.”

“Stay away from that one,” Bennett warned. “That mother of hers is the worst. She’s a former New York socialite who thinks a lot of money—and I do mean a lot—can buy her way into Charleston inner circles. Honestly, the woman is a menace.”

“I’m not interested in dating the mother.”

“London is just as much a social climber,” Bennett said as if Harrison was an utter idiot not to make the connection. “Why else do you think she pursued Linc?”

“Obviously you don’t think she was in love with him,” Harrison retorted dryly.

He wasn’t a stranger to the elitist outlook held by the old guard of Charleston society. His own mother had disappointed her family by marrying a man from North Carolina with nothing but big dreams and ambition. Harrison hadn’t understood the complexities of his mother’s relationship with her family and, frankly, he’d never really cared. Ever since he could remember, all Harrison had ever wanted to do was to tinker with cars and drive fast.

His father and uncle had started out as mechanics before investing in their first auto parts store. Within five years the two men had parlayed their experience and drive into a nationwide chain. While Harrison’s dad, Robert “Bertie” Crosby, was happy to man the helm and expand the business, his brother, Jack, pursued his dream of running race cars.

By the time Harrison was old enough to drive, his uncle had built Crosby Motorsports into a winning team. And like the brothers before them, Tristan had gone into the family business, preferring to keep his hands clean, while Harrison loved every bit of oil and dirt that marked his skin.

“She pursued him,” Bennett pronounced, “because her children would be Thurstons.”

Harrison considered this. It was possible that she’d judged the guy by his social standing. On the other hand, maybe she’d been in love with Linc. Either way, Harrison wasn’t going to know for sure until he had a chance to get to know her.

“Why are you so interested in her?” Bennett asked, interrupting Harrison’s train of thought.

“I don’t know.”

He couldn’t explain to his uncle that London’s preoccupation with Tristan intrigued and worried him. For the last couple of years Harrison had increasing concerns about his brother’s systematically deteriorating marriage to Zoe. Still, he’d ignored the rumors of Tristan’s affairs even as Harrison recognized his brother had a dark side and a ruthless streak.

The fact that Zoe had vanished off his radar since she’d first separated from Tristan nagged at Harrison. In the beginning he hadn’t wanted to get involved in what had looked to become a nasty divorce. Lately he was wishing he’d been a better brother-in-law.

“Do you know what London does?” Harrison asked, returning his thoughts to the beautiful blonde.

Bennett sighed. “She owns an event planning service.”

“Did she plan this event?” An idea began to form in Harrison’s mind.

“No. Most of the work was done by Zoe before...” Not even Bennett was comfortable talking about his former niece-in-law.

“I think I’m going to introduce myself to London McCaffrey,” Harrison said.

“Just don’t be too surprised when she’s not interested in you.”

“I have a halfway-decent pedigree,” Harrison said with a wink.

“Halfway decent isn’t going to be enough for her.”

“You’re so cynical.” Harrison softened his statement with a half smile. “And I’m more than enough for her to handle.”

His uncle began to laugh. “No doubt you’re right. Just don’t be surprised when she turns you down flat.”

* * *

London McCaffrey stood beside her best friend, Maribelle Gates, her attention fixed on the tall, imposing man she’d promised to take down in the next few months. Zoe Crosby’s ex-husband was handsome enough, but his chilly gaze and the sardonic twist to his lips made London shiver. From the research London had done on him these last couple of weeks, she knew he’d ruthlessly gone after his wife, leaving her with nothing to show for her eight-year marriage.

In addition to cheating on Zoe through most of their marriage, Tristan Crosby had manufactured evidence that she was the one who’d been unfaithful and violated their prenuptial agreement. Zoe had been forced to spend tens of thousands of dollars disproving this, which had eaten into her divorce settlement. A settlement based on financial information about her husband’s wealth that indicated he was heavily mortgaged and deeply in debt.

Zoe’s lawyer suspected that Tristan had created offshore shell companies that allowed him to hide money and avoid paying taxes. It wasn’t unusual or illegal, but it was a hard paper trail to find.

“Heavens, that man cleans up well,” Maribelle remarked, her voice breathy and impressed. “And he’s been staring this way practically since he arrived.” She nudged London. “Wouldn’t it be great if he’s interested in you?”

With an exasperated sigh, London turned to her friend and was about to reiterate that the last thing on her mind was romance when she recognized the man in question. Harrison Crosby, Tristan’s younger brother.

A racing-circuit fan favorite thanks to his long, lean body and handsome face, Harrison was, to her mind, little more than a glorified frat boy. Zoe had explained that her ex-brother-in-law liked fast cars, pretty women and the sorts of activities that red-blooded American males went for in the South.

“He’s not my type,” London told her best friend, returning her focus to her target.

“Sweetie, I love you,” Maribelle began, settling further into her native South Carolina drawl, “but you have to stop being so picky.”

Resentment rose in London but she studiously avoided showing it. Since the first time her mother had slapped her face for making a fuss during her sixth birthday party, London had decided if she was going to survive in the McCaffrey household, she’d better learn to conceal her emotions. It wasn’t always easy, but now, at twenty-eight, she was nearly impossible to read.

“I’m not being picky. I’m simply being realistic.” And since he wasn’t the Crosby brother she was targeting, he wasn’t worth her time.

“That’s your problem,” Maribelle complained. “You’re always realistic. Why don’t you let loose and have some fun?”

Out of kindness or sympathy for her longtime friend, Maribelle didn’t mention London’s latest failure to climb the Charleston social ladder. She’d heard more than enough on that score from her mother. When London had begun to date someone from one of Charleston’s oldest families, her mother had perceived this as the social win she’d been looking for since the New York socialite had married restaurant CEO Boyd McCaffrey and moved to Connecticut, leaving her beloved New York City behind. And then, when London’s father had been accepted for a better position and moved his family to Charleston, Edie Fremont-McCaffrey’s situation grew so much worse.

When she’d first arrived, Edie had assumed that her New York connections, wealth and style would guarantee Charleston’s finest would throw open their doors for her. Instead she’d discovered that family and ancestral connections mattered more here than something as vulgar as money.

“It’s not that I don’t want to have fun,” London began. “I just don’t know that I want to have Harrison Crosby’s sort of fun.”

Well, didn’t that make her sound like the sort of dull prig who’d let the handsome and wealthy Linc Thurston slip through her fingers? London’s heart contracted. Although she no longer believed herself in love with Linc, at one point she’d been ready to marry him. But would she have? London wasn’t entirely clear where their relationship would be if he hadn’t broken things off.

“How do you know what sort of fun Harrison Crosby likes?” Maribelle asked, bringing London back to the present.

She bit her lip, unable to explain why she’d been researching the Crosby family, looking for an in. There were only three people who knew of their rash plan to take revenge on the men who’d wronged them. What London, Everly and Zoe were doing might not necessarily be illegal, but if they were discovered, retribution could be fierce and damaging.

“He’s a race-car driver.” As if that explained everything.

“And he’s gorgeous.”

“Is he?”

London considered all the photos she’d seen of him. Curly black hair, unshaved cheeks, wearing jeans and a T-shirt or his blue racing suit with sponsor patches plastered head to toe, he had an engaging smile and an easy confidence that proclaimed he had the world on a string.

“I guess if you like them scruffy and rough,” London muttered. Which she didn’t.