Sweet Liar Read online

  When he had leaped around the stairs to catch the football, he had nearly trampled her, and out of instinct, he had caught her before she fell against the spikes of the railing. He had opened his mouth to ask if she was all right, but when he had looked into her eyes, he’d not been able to say a word, for she was looking at him as though she thought he was the best-looking, sexiest, most desirable man in the world. Mike had known since he was a kid that he was attractive to girls and he’d used his looks whenever possible, but no woman had looked at him as this one had.

  Of course he had to concede that maybe he had been looking at her in much the same way. Her big, soft blue eyes had been filled with surprise and desire, looking at him from over a small, pert nose that was set atop a mouth so full and lush that he thought he might die from wanting it so much.

  He’d kissed her, at first not sure if he should, because he didn’t want to do anything to scare her away, but the moment his lips touched hers, he knew he couldn’t stop himself, knew he couldn’t hold back. No woman had ever kissed him as this one did. It wasn’t just desire he felt coming from her, but hunger. She kissed him as though she’d been locked in a prison for the last ten years and now that she’d been released, he was the man she wanted most in the world.

  Right now Mike didn’t understand what was going on with her. How could she kiss him like that and ten minutes later look at him as though she detested him? For that matter how could this proper little lady be the same enchantress who’d wrapped her leg around his waist?

  Mike didn’t have answers, nor did he understand anything that was going on, but he knew one thing for certain: He couldn’t let her get away from him. He had to find out what was making her want to get away from him. For his part he’d like to pick her up and carry her back to his house and keep her there, maybe forever. But if she wanted something from him first, like maybe for him to climb to the heavens, pick up a dozen or so stars, string them together, and hang them in her bedroom, he thought he would like to know so he could start tying ladders together.

  “I apologize for whatever I did to offend you,” he said, although he didn’t mean a word of it. All he could remember was her ankle on his waist.

  Samantha narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that supposed to make me believe you?” Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm down, for she was aware that they were beginning to draw the attention of the people on the street.

  “Couldn’t we go somewhere and talk about this?” he asked.

  “Your house maybe?”

  Missing the sarcasm in her voice, Mike thought that was a fine idea but didn’t say so.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  This time there was no missing her insinuation that she believed his house to be a den of sin. Mike took a deep breath. “We’ll go back to the house, sit on the stoop—in plain sight of all of New York—and talk about whatever the problem is. Later, if you still want to leave, I’ll help you find a hotel.”

  Samantha knew she shouldn’t listen to him; she should hail another cab and find somewhere to spend the night.

  “Look, you don’t even know where you’re going, do you? You can’t get into a cab and say, ‘Take me to a hotel.’ Not any more. You don’t know where you’ll end up, so at least let me call and make a reservation for you.”

  Seeing her hesitation, Mike took the opportunity to start walking toward his house, hoping she’d follow her suitcase and tote bag. Not wanting to press his luck with the headway he’d made with her, he didn’t say any more as he walked, moving slowly, but stopping now and then to make sure she was following him.

  When he reached the town house, he carried her bags to the top of the stairs, set them down, and turned to her. “Now, you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

  Looking down at her hands, Samantha knew that she was very tired from the long, exhausting day. For that matter, it had been a long, exhausting year. “I think the problem is obvious,” she said, trying not to look at him because he had on so very little clothing. While he stood there leaning against the rail, he reached inside the old sideless sweat shirt he wore to scratch his chest, and Samantha saw a stomach covered with washboard muscle. When he said nothing, she spoke again, this time intending to make herself very clear. “I do not plan to live in the same house with a man who will spend his time chasing me all over the place. I am in mourning for my father, I have just ended my marriage, and I do not want more complications.”

  Perhaps Mike shouldn’t have taken offense at her words, but she made him sound like a dirty old man who couldn’t keep his hands off the luscious young girl. Resisting the temptation to point out that he had by no means forced himself on her, he was also tempted to tell her that all they had shared was a kiss, nothing more, and that there was no reason to act as though he were a convicted rapist who’d just tried to molest her.

  “All right,” he said in a cold tone. “What are the rules?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh yes you do. Anybody who dresses as you do must live by rules, lots of them. Now tell me what your rules are.”

  At that Samantha picked up her tote bag and reached for her suitcase, but putting his hand on it, he wouldn’t let her have it.

  “All right,” he said again, this time with a sigh of defeat. “I apologize again. Couldn’t we start over?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s not possible. Would you please release my bag so I can leave?”

  Mike wasn’t going to let her leave. Besides the fact that he wanted her so badly there was sweat running down his chest even though it was a cool day, there was his promise to her father. He was aware that she knew nothing about how close he had been with her father, didn’t know that Dave and Mike had spent quite a bit of time together until Dave had told him Samantha was coming home. After that announcement Dave had confined their friendship to letters, which had been sent to the attorney, because for some reason, Dave hadn’t wanted Mike and Samantha to meet, at least not while Dave was alive. Then, two days before Dave died, he had called Mike, although by then Dave had been too weak for Mike to hear all of what he had to say, but Mike had understood the essence of it. Dave had said he was sending Samantha to him in New York and he had asked Mike to take care of her. At the time Mike hadn’t felt he’d had any other choice, so he’d given his word that he’d protect her and watch out for her. But so far, Mike didn’t think these last few minutes were what Dave had in mind.

  Mike looked down at Samantha’s two bags. “Which one has your overnight things in it?”

  Samantha thought that was a very odd question, but then the last few minutes had been the oddest of her life.

  Not waiting for her answer, he picked up her tote bag and opened the door to the house. “Five minutes, that’s all I ask. Give me five minutes, then ring the bell.”

  “Would you please give me back my bag?”

  “What time is it now?”

  “Quarter after four,” she answered automatically after a glance at her watch.

  “Okay, at twenty after ring the bell.”

  Shutting the door behind him, he left Samantha standing alone on the stoop, half of her luggage missing. When she pressed the doorbell, there was no answer. She was tempted to take her large case and leave, but the fact that her remaining money was hidden in her tote bag made her sit down on her suitcase and wait.

  Trying not to think of her father, trying not to ask herself why he had done this to her, and especially trying not to think of her husband—correction, ex-husband—she forced herself to look at the sidewalks and the street before her, forced herself to look at the people, at the men dressed in jeans and the women in outrageously short skirts. Even in New York, the air seemed to be full of the laziness of a Sunday afternoon.

  This man, this Michael Taggert, had said he wanted to start over, she thought. If she could, she’d like to start her life over, like to start from the morning of the day her mother died, because after that day nothing in h