Mystery Man. Diana Palmer

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      “Oh, gosh, not them again,” she groaned. “Missy wants to marry you.”

      “Karie,” he said warningly.

      She sighed. “Oh, all right. Kurt, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      “Sure thing, Karie.”

      “Maybe we can find that garden hose,” she added in a conspiratorial tone.

      He brightened. “Great idea!”

      “What the hell do you want with a hose?” Karie’s father asked as they walked back up the beach, totally ignoring the two people he’d just left.

      “Whew!” Kurt huffed. “Gosh, he’s scary!”

      “No, he isn’t,” Janine said irritably. “He’s just pompous and irritating! And he thinks he’s an emperor or something. I told him we lived in a commune and you’re my son and I don’t know who your father is. Don’t you tell him any differently,” she added when he tried to speak. “I want to live down to his image of me!”

      He chuckled. “Boy, are you mad,” he said. “You don’t have fights with anybody.”

      “Wait,” she promised, glaring after the man.

      “He reminds me of somebody,” he said.

      “Probably the devil,” she muttered. “I hear he’s got blue eyes. Somebody wrote a song about it a few years ago.”

      “No,” he mumbled, still thinking. “Didn’t he seem familiar to you?”

      “Yes, he did,” she admitted. “I don’t know why. I’ve never seen him before.”

      “Are you kidding? You don’t know who he is? Haven’t you recognized him? He’s famous enough as he is. But just think, Janie, think if he had gray makeup on.”

      “He could pass for a sand crab,” she muttered absently.

      “That’s not what I meant,” he muttered. “Listen, they call this guy Mr. Software. Good grief, don’t you ever read the newspapers or watch the news?”

      “No. It depresses me,” she said, glowering.

      He sighed. “Mr. Software just lost everything. For the past year, he’s been involved in a lawsuit to prevent a merger that would have saved his empire. He just lost the suit, and a fortune with it. Now he can’t merge his software company with a major computer chain. He’s down here avoiding the media so he can get himself back together before he starts over again. He’s already promised his stockholders that he’ll recoup every penny he lost. I bet he will, too. He’s a tiger.”

      She scowled. “He, who?”

      “Him. Canton Rourke,” he emphasized. “Third generation American, grandson of Irish immigrants. His mother was Spanish, can’t you tell it in his bearing? He made billions designing and selling computer programs, and now he’s moving into computer production. The company he was trying to acquire made the computer you use. And the software word processing program you use was one he designed himself.”

      “That’s Canton Rourke?” she asked, turning to stare at the already dim figure in the distance. “I thought he was much older than that.”

      “He’s old enough, I guess. He’s divorced. Karie said her mother ran for the hills when it looked like he was going to risk everything in that merger attempt. She likes jewelry and real estate and high living. She found herself another rich man and remarried within a month of the divorce becoming final. She moved to Greece. Just as well, probably. Her parents were never together, anyway. He was always working on a program and her mother was at some party, living it up. What a mismatch!”

      “I guess so.” She shook her head. “He didn’t look like a billionaire.”

      “He isn’t, now. All he has is his savings, from what they say on TV, and that’s not a whole lot.”

      “That sort of man will make it all back,” she said thoughtfully. “Workaholics make money because they love to work. Most of them don’t care much about the money, though. That’s just how they keep score.”

      His eyes narrowed. “You still haven’t guessed why he looks familiar.”

      She turned and scowled at him. “You said something about gray makeup?”

      “Sure. Think,” he added impatiently. “Those eyes. That deep, smooth voice. Where do you hear them every fourth or fifth week?”

      “On the news?”

      He chuckled. “Only if they had aliens doing it.”

      His rambling was beginning to make sense. Every fourth or fifth week, there was a guest star on her favorite science fiction show. Her heartbeat increased alarmingly. Her breath caught in her throat. She put a hand there, to make sure she was still breathing.

      “Oh, no.” She shook her head. She smiled nervously. “No, he doesn’t look like him!”

      “He most certainly does,” Kurt said confidently. “Same height, build, eyes, bone structure, even the same deep sort of voice.” He nodded contemplatively. “What a coincidence, huh? We came here to Mexico to get you away from the television so you could write without being distracted by your favorite villain. And his doppelgñuanger turns up here on the beach!”

      Chapter Two

      “I don’t like having you around that boy,” Canton told his daughter when they were back in their beach house. “His mother is a flake.”

      Karie had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting out the truth. Obviously the Curtis duo didn’t want it known that they were little brother and big sister, not son and mother. Karie would keep her new friend’s secret, but it wasn’t going to be easy.

      Her eyes went to the new hardcover murder mystery on the coffee table. There was a neat brown leather bookmark holding Canton’s place in it. On the cover in huge red block letters were the title, “CATACOMB,” and the author’s name—Diane Woody.

      There was a photo in the back of the book, on the slick jacket, but it was of a woman with long hair and dark glasses wearing a hat with a big brim. It didn’t even look like their neighbor. But it was. Karie knew because Kurt had told her, with some pride, who his sister was. She was thrilled to know, even secondhand, a big-time mystery writer like Diane Woody. Her father was one of the biggest fans of the bestselling mystery author, but he wouldn’t recognize her from that book jacket. Maybe it was a good thing. Apparently she didn’t want to be recognized.

      “Kurt’s nice,” she told her father. “He’s twelve. He likes people. He’s honest and kind. And Janine’s nice, too.”

      His eyebrows lifted as he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Janine?” he murmured, involuntarily liking the sound of the name on his lips.

      “His…mother.”

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