Liars Like Us

by Mary Campisi

  Liars Like Us

  Mary Campisi

  Mary Campisi Books, LLC

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Bonus: An Excerpt from Lovers Like Us

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Other Books by Mary Campisi

  Introduction

  Unlock the secrets in Reunion Gap

  * * *

  What happens when destiny ignores the rules?

  * * *

  Tate Alexander has the good luck to be born with looks and charm, and the bad luck to belong to a family where money and power mean more than honor and integrity. When he returns to Reunion Gap to take over his father’s company, he’s determined to uncover and right the wrongs his father committed. He’s also determined to win over Charlotte Donovan, the woman who’s stolen his heart.

  Charlotte Donovan is big on causes and vows no man will ever “own” her, especially a playboy who can’t commit to a vehicle, let alone a woman. However, her heart isn’t listening to her brain. The only way to battle that is to create a web of lies that keeps Tate believing she doesn’t care about him.

  But maybe she’s so busy keeping her lies in place that she almost misses the man’s devotion to his siblings, and his commitment to righting past wrongs his father committed. When the lies catch up with her, it’s not going to be easy for a man like Tate to forgive a woman who betrayed his trust.

  Will it be too late for them or can destiny step in once again and give them a chance at happiness?

  * * *

  Reunion Gap series:

  Book One: Strangers Like Us

  Book Two: Liars Like Us

  Book Three: Lovers Like Us

  Book Four: Couples Like Us

  * * *

  BONUS MATERIAL: Included with this e-book is the first chapter of Lovers Like Us, Book Three in this series.

  Copyright © 2018 by Mary Campisi

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-942158-35-6

  Print ISBN: 978-1-942158-44-8

  Created with Vellum

  To Don Warrick, narrator and friend. Thank you for giving my characters a voice—literally! I do love working on projects together. Until the next one…

  Chapter 1

  Tate Alexander adjusted his tie and tried to ignore the afternoon heat. Late September in Reunion Gap usually meant breezy days and cool nights, but this year proved an exception. The heat had hung around too long but that didn’t seem to bother Rose Donovan. The woman didn’t believe in central air or shade trees and had insisted on hosting her son’s wedding in her backyard.

  Six months ago, Rogan Donovan was unattached and uninterested in anything but short term. Of course, that was before Elizabeth Hayes walked into Reunion Gap. One look at the two of them together and anybody with half a brain cell could tell they were meant to be together. So, they’d had a few bumps along the trip to the altar? Wasn’t that what made couples stronger, more capable of handling the tough stuff life threw at you, like the curve ball you never saw coming? Yeah, well, that might be true, but Tate didn’t like the part he’d played in the whole mess.

  He heaved a quiet sigh, glad the lovebirds were Mr. and Mrs. Rogan Donovan as of five minutes ago. He guessed it didn’t get much better than handwritten vows pledging forever, flowers bursting with color in the gardens, and a few relatives to witness it all.

  He wasn’t technically a relative, but Camille had insisted he attend, saying that one day he and Rogan would see how much alike they really were. Like brothers, she’d said. Right. The guy hadn’t liked him since high school, and after the fiasco with Elizabeth that ended with Rogan punching him in the nose, it didn’t look like they’d be best buddies anytime soon. Tate had only been trying to protect the damn guy, but Rogan didn’t see it that way.

  Typical fool in love, couldn’t see the truth if it stood in front of him.

  Rumor had it there was a baby Donovan on the way, and something in the tone of his aunt’s voice when she mentioned the couple’s future children said it might be true. But Tate wasn’t asking any questions. Inquiries had a habit of reaching their subject, and one punch in the nose was enough. There were times when he wished he were in Chicago again, far from backyard gatherings and too many memories.

  He slid a glance at the arbor his aunt had hired out to build for the occasion. The structure stood near the far corner of the gardens, wrapped with tiny rose garland, baby’s breath, and strand after strand of twinkle lights. Camille had taken her wedding planner duties seriously and done in three weeks what took other planners three months to achieve. At least that’s what she told him when she delivered her daily updates. He knew nothing about garland or decorating an arbor, but the achievements and the telling of them seemed important to her, so he’d listened. After all, with a cheating husband she refused to divorce and too much time on her hands, she had to dive in to some cause she believed in.

  Of course, I wanted to help with the wedding.

  I have 400 feet of twinkle lights being delivered and only two people to help decorate.

  The flowers came from the Stamen & Pistil. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get white roses?

  Thank goodness Charlotte’s in town. A smile and a nod. That girl has a gift with color and textures, don’t you think so?

  She’d attached a sly look to her mention of Charlotte Donovan, as if waiting for his reaction. Tate knew the game, knew how to keep his expression relaxed and throw just the right amount of disinterest into his voice when he responded.

  Camille was no fool. Or maybe she just wanted another project to work on, as in matching him up with Charlotte. Good luck with that. He’d done a good job screwing that up after their night together in Chicago. If he hadn’t denied his feelings and been so damn afraid to admit he cared about her, they might be the ones exchanging vows this afternoon. He’d had the opportunity and his gut said she might have felt the same way about him, but he’d blown it, big time.

  And now she had a boyfriend named Jason, who was due in Reunion Gap any day.

  Or so she said.

  The woman who’d tormented his sleeping and waking moments for months moved toward the newly married couple in a taupe dress that clung to her curves, hugged her breasts, and dipped so low in the back, he wondered when her mother would hand her a sweater to cover up. His gaze settled on that back, trailed from the golden flesh to the tiny buttons that followed the lines of her butt, ended a few inches past the top of her thighs. Perfect. Add the three-inch heels and the toned legs, and—

  “See something that catches your eye?”

  Tate swung his gaze to his aunt, fought the heat creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat and forced a casual response. “The gardens are beautiful, Camille. You’ve outdone yourself.”

  She raised a brow, sniffed. “Do not insult me, Tate Livingstone Alexander. I’ve been walking this earth a lot longer than you have, so save the shenanigans.” Those blue ey
es homed in on him. “You were not looking at the gardens.”

  He shrugged. “Should I not appreciate beauty?” That was as close as he’d come to admitting the object of his attention had been Charlotte.

  “That’s what appreciating beauty looks like?” Laughter spilled over him. “I’d call it ready to devour.” Another laugh, this one softer, knowing. “There’s something going on between the two of you, and I’m going to figure out what it is.”

  Tate shoved his hands in his pockets, eyed his aunt. “When would we have started something? She’s only been back a few weeks and I’ve hardly seen her.” Hardly qualified as three times, none of which had made Charlotte happy.

  “Well, you’ll have an opportunity to see her for the rest of the afternoon—” she paused, tossed a smile his way “—and maybe the night.”

  Tate sighed and shook his head. Leave it to Camille to attempt a seduction setup. If he didn’t care about her so much, he’d tell her to concentrate on her own marriage. But Carter Alexander was beyond redemption, and the whole town knew it. The man was a cheat who preferred the under-twenty-five hook-ups, and his aunt couldn’t—or wouldn’t—dump him. “Please don’t let Rogan hear you.” He touched his nose. “The man throws a mean punch and I’d like to avoid any further contact between him and my nose.”

  His aunt patted his cheek, cooed, “Poor boy. I’ve had a chat with Rogan. In the future, all disagreements are to be handled as civilized gentlemen, not downtown brawlers.”

  So, Rogan got a scolding. Tate would have loved to listen in on that one. “Good to know.” He glanced at Charlotte who stood with her back to him, deep in conversation with Oliver Donovan. She hadn’t even acknowledged Tate’s presence, but she knew he was here, or she wouldn’t have migrated to the opposite end of the yard.

  “Tate?” Camille stood on tiptoe, whispered, “I’m not certain if you’re lying to me or yourself about Charlotte, but a word of advice? Don’t stare, don’t get that puppy-dog look on your face when she’s near, and do not pretend to ignore her.” She huffed. “Those are giant signals for anyone watching, and they’re the first signs that say you’re interested.” He opened his mouth to deny her comments, but she stopped him. “Save it, sweetheart. I’ve seen everything in my twenty-nine years of marriage. Trust me on that one.” Then she pecked him on the cheek and said, “Now I’m off to see what’s holding up the show. This face can only take so much heat before the makeup starts to melt.” She smiled and squeezed his arm. “Chin up. She’s been watching you, too.”

  He pondered his aunt’s words as he made his way toward the newlyweds. They made a great couple and he regretted the actions he’d taken that had torn them apart. He’d only been looking out for Rogan, but he doubted the guy would ever see it that way. Since the incident, Elizabeth had avoided him unless necessary, and then, she never looked him in the eye. Was this how they’d communicate for the rest of their lives? “Mr. and Mrs. Rogan Donovan,” he said, extending a hand to Rogan. “I like the sound of it.”

  Rogan shook his hand, not a smile in sight. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  Tate nodded, turned to Elizabeth. “You make a beautiful bride.” It wasn’t just the magnificent simplicity of the cream gown she wore or the pearls circling her neck. And while he could appreciate the intensity of her amber eyes, the fullness of her lips, the perfection of her skin, it was more than that. Elizabeth glowed, and even Tate’s presence couldn’t diminish that. He leaned forward, kissed her cheek and whispered, “I’m really sorry about what happened.” Then he pulled away, nodded at Rogan. “You’re one lucky guy.”

  The man glanced at his new wife, said in a voice filled with happiness and awe, “I certainly am.”

  Marriage was a crapshoot, no doubt about it. Some couples made it, others didn’t survive the first anniversary. And then there were those like his parents and his Aunt Camille and Uncle Carter who’d refused to end the marriage, even if it meant sucking the life out of each other. That wasn’t going to happen to Rogan and Elizabeth because they loved each other and were committed. That’s what marriage should look like.

  “Tate dear, I hope you’re hungry.” Rose Donovan clasped his arm and smiled up at him. “Lobster tails and filets, compliments of Oliver and Camille.” She shook her dark head, murmured, “I tried to tell those two they shouldn’t spend their time cooking, but they insisted. You know, there’s something about watching siblings work together that warms my heart.”

  He let out a laugh, pictured himself in the kitchen with Meredith or Neal. It would be a disaster. “I’m not so sure that works with every sibling.”

  “I agree. I don’t think Charlotte or Luke would work well together. In fact, I’m not sure either one of them could work with Rogan, and he’s as easygoing as it gets.”

  Easygoing? That would not be the word he’d use to describe the man.

  “Doesn’t Charlotte look beautiful?”

  “What?” He glanced at Rose, narrowed his gaze. Had she just said something about Charlotte?

  “Charlotte. Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

  There was an extra hint of curiosity in her voice, and those eyes watched him a bit too closely. Tate knew all about playing it cool and hiding emotions he didn’t want people to see. He forced the smile that made women forget what they wanted to know and said, “All Donovan women are beautiful.” Another compliment or two and this conversation should be steered away from the danger zone. “Has anyone ever told you that shade of blue highlights your eyes?” He pointed to the chiffon dress she wore, let his voice slip an octave. “I’m guessing Camille ordered this from New York, didn’t she? It’s got designer label written all over it.”

  The palest pink burst onto Rose’s cheeks. “Oh, Tate, you are incorrigible.”

  He raised a brow. “I only speak the truth. You’re class and beauty, Rose Donovan, no matter what you’re wearing.” Tate extended an arm. “May I escort you to the dining room?”

  Her blue eyes sparkled. “Indeed, you may.” She clasped his arm and proceeded to chat about the chocolate wedding cake she’d made and the seventy accompanying rosettes that decorated it. “Patience and timing are the main ingredients for a recipe’s success,” she said. “Too little patience and not enough time will create a disaster unfit for eating.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She’d laughed and told him he should.

  And that was the end of the comments about Charlotte.

  Of course, if Tate had been born into a close-knit family like the Donovans, he’d have known that while the comments might have stopped, they’d pick up again, whether from Rose or another family member. He’d once asked Camille why the Donovans were so damn inquisitive with each other and anyone involved with their family, and she’d told him, That’s what family does.

  Well, not his family. Questions and opinions had been forbidden in the Alexander household—unless Harrison Alexander wasn’t present. Then, they could speak their mind, and their mother would listen and nod, her soft voice agreeing that life could be impossible with a man like their father. He means well, and he does care about you, but he struggles to show it, she’d say. Your grandfather was a disciplinarian who ruled through fear, and I’m afraid your father has inherited that trait.

  He’s a no-good tyrant, Neal would say.

  Why does he have to be so mean? That was always Meredith’s line.

  Tate didn’t call his father names or wonder why life in their big house couldn’t be different. He asked the only question that mattered to them, the one that could save their lives. Why don’t you leave him?

  Her answer was always the same, spoken with the faint Southern accent that still clung to her vowels even after so many years in the North. Because I can’t.

  The Donovans had suffered their share of heartache, but they had no idea what it was like to live with a man like Harrison Alexander.

  “Did you change the name card so you could sit next to me?”

  The voice he could not forge
t hissed in his ear. Tate turned toward the woman who’d stolen his heart, said in a low voice, “Now why would I do that, Charlotte?” His gaze inched to the soft swell of her breasts. “Tempting as it may be, I did not switch the name cards.”

  Her green eyes singed him. “Beast.” Another hiss, this one louder, less controlled.

  He lifted a shoulder, smiled. “Some women prefer a certain untamed approach to relationships.” Tate leaned toward her, whispered, “In and out of bed. I think you might be one of them.” Pause. “At least that’s what I remember…”

  Those full lips opened and out spewed more venom. “If we weren’t at my brother’s wedding, I’d toss this wine on you.”

  “Lucky for me we have witnesses—” he glanced at the end of the table where Rose sat talking with Elizabeth and Rogan “—most of whom are your relatives. I’d like to think destiny put us next to each other.” He laughed. “That and a very short guest list.”

  “I don’t even know why you’re here.” She took a healthy sip of red wine, spat out, “Why are you here?”

  Because I don’t want to miss a single opportunity to be around you.

  Because I’ve missed you.

  Because I want a chance to show you I can be a decent guy.

  But those truths couldn’t find their way to his mouth. Instead, what slipped out was a fabrication built around years of protecting his heart. And fear. Too damn much fear. “Camille invited me.” He paused, made sure he had just the right amount of sexy in his voice before he finished with, “And I wanted to see you in that dress.”