Deceit

by Fayrene Preston

  Her teeth ground together. “But I’d appreciate it if you would leave now. Ill be fine until the doctor arrives.”

  He leaned down to look her in the eye. “You’re close to the top of the list of the ten most desirable women in the world, Liana. That’s a unique power all its own. But you’ll never have enough power to dismiss me. Not again.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Oh, yes, sweetheart, you did mean. You were trying to get rid of me, but this time, it won’t work—not unless I’m ready to leave.” He straightened, spun on his heels, and headed for the bathroom.

  Liana pressed her hand to her heart to restrain its wild beating. It was a vain attempt. This had to be another of her sweet, unbearable nightmares. Her dreams of Richard over the years had sometimes been so real that, when she woke, she would roll over, absolutely sure that she would find him beside her. Always there would be nothing but an empty pillow.

  But now he was here; she was undoubtedly wide awake; and her memories and dreams were nothing in comparison to the vital, entirely compelling, masculine reality of him.

  He returned to the room with a wet washcloth, knelt in front of her, and cupped his left hand behind her knee. With a light delicate touch so at odds with such a tough man, he sponged the blood away from the broken skin. “This isn’t too bad,” he murmured.

  She stared down at his bent head. She wasn’t surprised to find his hair still thick and glossy, but she was surprised that her fingers tingled to touch it. “What are you doing here at SwanSea, Richard?”

  His steel gray gaze sliced up to her, cold and impenetrable.

  Her throat moved convulsively. “I just wondered. I mean, you’re a very important man. Your company has grown twenty times bigger since Her voice trailed off.

  “You’ve kept track of me?”

  “It’s not hard to do. Over the years, I’ve occasionally picked up the business section of the newspaper. Sometimes there’d be an article about you.”

  And then there’d been that time, six years ago, right after her father’s death when she’d attempted to see him. She’d gone straight from the funeral to the airport and booked herself on the next flight to New York. Immediately upon landing in New York, she’d called his office, only to be told by his secretary that he was on his honeymoon.

  “Save yourself some anguish, Liana. You have nothing to do with my being here. ”

  “I didn’t think—”

  His knowing smile made the words abruptly die in her throat. That was exactly what she had thought.

  “I came because of the auction of art nouveau works that will be held in a few days.”

  “Are you a collector?”

  He nodded. “And there are quite a few noteworthy paintings up for sale.” His gruff, harsh tone was startling in its contrast to the incredibly gentle way he ministered to her knee. “And I'll save you the effort of asking the next question. Yes, I knew you were going to be here. ”

  Her muscles tightened with alarm; her words rushed out in a whisper. “Then, why?”

  “I didn’t find out about the fact that you would be here until after I’d booked my reservations. But I decided very quickly it didn’t matter, that I’d be damned if I’d let you ruin my first vacation in years and the chance at the paintings.” He gave her knee a final pat with the cloth, then surged to his feet. “Besides, Liana, it’s a small world. We were bound to run into each other sooner or later.”

  She wondered what he’d say if he knew the lengths to which she’d gone to make sure they didn’t end up in the same place at the same time. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. Besides, SwanSea is a large resort. I’m sure we’re both going to be busy with different agendas.”

  She was no more at a disadvantage with him looming above her than she had been when he’d been kneeling in front of her, but she was relieved when he disappeared into the bathroom to return the washcloth. His absence was a chance for her pulse to return to normal. Unfortunately as soon as he walked back into the room, it began to race again.

  His smile, a slash of white teeth, told her he knew how he affected her. “Are you here at SwanSea alone?”

  "No, I’m here with Clay and the others.”

  “I figured that out, Liana.”

  “Then—?”

  “Are you and Clay lovers?”

  He hurled the question at her with such speed and force, it took her a moment to recover from its impact. “He’s the photographer in charge of this shoot. I hardly know him.”

  “Really. Yet he called you darling. What do you call him?”

  “Clay.”

  He smiled. “I remember when you were in awe of photographers. But, of course, back then, they had the power to make you a star, and you wanted to become a star more than anything. Right? Including more than you wanted me.”

  She absorbed the salvo with hardly a flinch and congratulated herself.

  He continued without mercy. “Not that one should exclude the other. Except when one uses the method you chose—going from my bed to Savion’s. Damn awkward, Liana.” With each word, his voice deteriorated until it was an abrasive rasp. “And of course, there were the things you said. I’m sure you recall, especially the part about you really not loving me at all.”

  “Clay is the photographer on this assignment,” she repeated stonily, “nothing more.”

  “I see. So you and he aren’t lovers unlike you and Savion, who are.” His shrug indicated the subject was of supreme indifference to him. “I wondered, that’s all, since Clay was very concerned about you, and I didn’t see Savion around.”

  She glanced away. “Jean-Paul is ill. Otherwise he would have been here.”

  “Oh, I would have bet on that. I’m sure it would take something of catastrophic proportions to keep him away from you.”

  “If he’d come, his interest would have been only in the assignment.” Her teeth snapped together as she emphasized each word. It mattered that he believe her, she realized, and wondered why. After all, it was much too late. “We’re all here to work. The opening of SwanSea is a gala event, and this layout will appear worldwide in all the important fashion, society, and news magazines.”

  “More fame and fortune.”

  “And more hard work. ”

  "I have no doubt. But then I also have no doubt that you receive a great dead of pleasure from what you do. After all, you and Savion work together most of the time, don’t you?”

  He was playing a game with her, and she was losing badly. It seemed to her she could feel her nerves fraying, one by one, a condition that absolutely had to be kept from him. If he sensed her weakness where he was concerned, he would close in for the kill. She didn’t answer him.

  “Tell me something, Liana. I’m curious.”

  She eyed him warily. “About what?”

  “Have you learned any hot lovemaking tricks?” He heard her indrawn gasp of breath and went on. “Even when you were a novice you could turn me inside out and make me jump through hoops. What are you like in bed now?”

  “It’s something you’ll never know, Richard.” The smile he gave chilled and transfixed her. So much so, she was unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to stop the painful hammering of her heart against her ribs. When the knock on the door came, she jumped.

  One dark brow shot up. “Careful, Liana. That skin of yours is much too pretty to jump out of, especially when it could be put to so many other good uses.”

  Liana climbed carefully into bed and gratefully sank back against the pillows. Richard had stood silently and observantly by as the doctor had examined her, then applied antibiotic cream and wrapped a large, white gauze bandage around her knee. Thankfully for her peace of mind, he had left with the doctor. After that, visits from Clay, Sara, Rosalyn, and Steve had had to be endured.

  Alone at last she found her thoughts only increased her tension and anxiety.

  Richard was actually here. They had talked. He had held her. Lord, help her!

 
; When she had known Richard eleven years ago in Paris, he had been a gentle and caring man. Now he was hard, cynical, and cruel. He used razor-edged words, and he made no careless moves.

  But if he’d changed, she reflected, so had she.

  She was no longer the idealistic, naive young girl she had been at eighteen. At twenty-nine, she was much wiser. She was also so full of pain she couldn’t stand to be touched.

  She felt as if her skin was too sensitive, and contact with anyone would hurt, violate, or scar her. The idea was all in her mind, of course. She was touched all the time, by hairdressers, makeup artists, designers, and photographers. It was her salvation that she had learned to escape to another place in her mind and block them out.

  Suddenly chills of fear shivered through her. She wrapped her arms around her body, but no matter how tightly she hugged herself, she couldn’t stop remembering the unexpected encounter with Richard and her reaction to him. The chills worsened.

  No real damage had been done, she reassured herself over and over again. But cold fear gripped her, and she knew that if there was another encounter, she might not be able to block him out.

  Maybe, if she was lucky, she could avoid him. At any rate, it was something to hope and work for.

  But how was she going to deal with the fact that she was responsible for the man he had become?

  SwanSea was quiet. Most of the lights in the great house were out. Its guests were resting. Except for one.

  Richard leaned back against the dooijamb of the open French doors of his room, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw tightly clenched. A breeze came off the ocean, fanning him, but it neither cooled him nor dried the sheen of sweat covering his body.

  Night sweats. They were brought on by the pain of the past, the uncertainty of the present, and the fear of not knowing how the hell he was going to get through the next day, much less the rest of his life. They often came on him like this when he couldn’t sleep and when all he could think of was Liana.

  Liana. She had haunted him for eleven years, and in that time he had found that being haunted by her was worse than any ghost. Ghosts were illusory. If you saw one, you might not even be sure of what it was you were looking at.

  But Liana. No matter where he went, she was there. As one of the most photographed models in the world, her picture graced countless magazine covers. Every newsstand he passed, every coffee table he sat at, every doctor’s waiting room he went into usually held at least one magazine with her picture gracing its cover. Her wide teal eyes would stare out at him, taunting him, reminding him of the one question that drove him to work twenty-hour days.

  Success had become the god he worshiped. But nothing was ever enough. There was always one more business triumph to achieve. One more possession to buy.

  Yet the emptiness remained. And the question persisted.

  Why hadn’t she loved him?

  Two

  Liana rose early and ordered room service, then slowly dressed and ate a leisurely breakfast. Her purpose was to have ample time to compose herself. When she finally left her room, she wanted her nerves well hidden beneath the cool facade of the super model. If she should meet Richard, she wanted no hint of how he affected her to show. It wasn’t a perfect plan, she acknowledged, but it was all she could think of for the moment.

  At the knock on her bedroom door. Liana’s hand jerked, toppling the delicate china cup onto its side and sending hot coffee spilling over the pristine white tablecloth. So much for her plan, she thought with disgust. She hastily righted the cup and snatched up the linen napkin to blot as much as she could of the cup’s contents.

  When the second knock came, she sighed and threw down the napkin. “Coming.”

  She used the short walk to the door to prepare herself for whoever might be on the other side. Hopefully, it was Clay or Sara, checking to see if she was ready for today’s shoot. Surely it wouldn’t be Richard. He hated her. If over the years, she’d had any doubts, their encounter last night had eliminated them.

  Still she didn’t kid herself. Trying to avoid him would accomplish only so much. Their situation was volatile and unpredictable, and she had to be ready for anything. Half expecting to meet steel gray eyes, she opened the door and was astonished to find a beautiful young woman with cinnamon-colored hair and lovely green-gold eyes.

  “Good morning. I’m Caitlin Deverell-DiFrenza. I hope I’m not disturbing you. ’’

  Liana recognized the name immediately. Caitlin Deverell-DiFrenza was the owner of SwanSea. “No, not at all. Please come in. ”

  Caitlin entered and cast an automatic, all-seeing glance around the room. The disorder on the serving table propelled her to the phone where she dialed a number. There were no pushbutton phones at SwanSea, only beautifully designed decorator phones that blended with each room’s elegant decor.

  “Please send fresh table linen and a carafe of coffee to room thirty-three.” A magnificent emerald wedding ring set flashed on Caitlin’s hand as she hung up the phone.

  “That wasn’t necessary,” Liana said, “but thank you.”

  “You’re more them welcome. I want my guests to have the best service possible.”

  Uncertain why Caitlin was in her room, Liana waved her hand toward the sofa. “Would you care to sit down?”

  “No, thank you. I don’t want to keep you. It’s just that I heard about your accident last night, and I was worried. ”

  “Don’t be. It’s really nothing more than a bad scrape. ”

  “Are you sure?”

  Liana smiled. “I use to get scrapes worse than this when I was a little girl. There was a big oak tree in our backyard in Des Moines that I couldn’t resist climbing. Unfortunately there’s that silly law about what goes up must come down. I came down a lot.”

  Caitlin nodded solemnly. “I’m familiar with that law. SwanSea has some great trees.”

  Liana grinned, feeling some of her tension fade. Caitlin, who had more money than Liana was ever likely to see in her lifetime, was one of the most down-to-earth people she’d ever met. “But the urge to climb that tree was nothing in comparison to my fervent desire to learn to roller skate. I spent hours on my skates out in front of our house. You know, I don’t think I ever skated the full length of our sidewalk without falling.” Caitlin laughed. “Well, I’m relieved you weren’t hurt more seriously. You could have been so easily, you know. I was very concerned last night when I heard about your fall, but I thought it would be best if I didn’t bother you. But when I saw Clay Phillips downstairs this morning, having breakfast with one of his assistants, the lovely redheaded girl—?”

  “Sara.”

  “Yes, and you weren’t with them, so I decided to come up.”

  “I’m glad you did. It gives me the opportunity to tell you how beautiful your hotel is.”

  A strange expression came over Caitlin’s face. “Hotel—yes, I guess it is." She grimaced. “I’ve spent months working to that end, but it’s funny, I still don’t see SwanSea as a hotel. I wonder if I’ll ever get over the mind-set that this is my home and the people who’ve come here are my personal guests.”

  “Why should you get over it? I understand that SwanSea was your home. Besides, that attitude is exactly why you’ll have a great success. Believe me. I’ve stayed in some of the finest hotels all over the world, but I’ve never been in one with more warmth and character than SwanSea. ”

  Caitlin clapped her hands together with delight. “Wonderful. You’ve boosted my confidence a hundred percent, and I needed that. You wouldn’t believe the problems that have cropped up in the last few days.”

  She’d believe the problems, Liana thought, but she didn’t believe that Caitlin needed a boost of confidence. She radiated a strength and a happiness and a feeling that she could handle anything. Liana envied her.

  Caitlin shrugged lightly. “Oh, well, I expected as much for the opening. And as long as my guests don’t suffer, I don’t mind. ” She clasped her hands together and eyed Liana inte
ntly. "Now, do you have everything you need?”

  “Everything. Your staff is wonderful. ”

  “I’m glad to hear it, but I don’t want you to hesitate to call if you should need anything at all. If we don’t have it, we will do our best to get it.” “I’ll remember that,” Liana said with a smile.

  By late that afternoon, Liana was wondering if Caitlin could send out for a bottle of energy for her. She’d spent hours under the sun and hot lights in first one evening gown and then another. As they’d moved from one outdoor location to another, it had seemed to her that Clay had been unusually demanding. She understood, though. This was the first major assignment he’d done on his own without the supervision of Jean-Paul, and he wanted everything to be perfect.

  But she longed for Jean-Paul. Together they had always made a certain magic on film, and they had an unspoken communication between them that had made any photo assignment pleasurable. Richard had been right in that at least.

  “Hell, we’ve lost our light.” Clay plowed his fingers through his hair, the lines of his body set with displeasure and tension. “All right,” he said with a sigh. “That’s it for today. I’ll let everyone know the shooting schedule for tomorrow. ”

  Liana retreated inside an aluminum-framed tent and slipped out of the green beaded gown she’d worn for the last series of shots.

  Sara joined her and took the gown. “You were wonderful, Liana.”

  "Thanks,” she said, giving the girl a smile. Although she hadn’t met Sara before this trip, Liana thought she was very nice and eager to learn all aspects of the business. She plucked the hairpins from her hair. The tight coil at the base of her neck loosened, then opened, sending a shining, straight mass of wheat-colored hair down her back.

  “How’s your knee?” Sara asked.

  “Not too bad.” In truth, standing on it all day had made the dull ache of the bruise turn to a throb. “I’m thankful that I’m here to model evening gowns. The long skirts cover the bandage. If we were doing street-length dresses or bathing suits, you would have been the one out there in front of the cameras, with the reflectors throwing heat and light onto you.”