Liar's Moon

by Heather Graham

  He caught her hand and smiled grimly. “Arthur would have loved it if I had killed Jesse, Audrey.”

  “Leif! What a terrible thing to say!” She stared at him with wide-eyed innocence. “Really! Oh, stop looking at me like that! I had every right to tear my daughter away from you. I knew you, Leif. I knew it would be impossible to count the women you’d had in your life if I stayed awake nights on end. I—”

  “Audrey, give it a break, please.” He laughed bitterly. “I happen to remember a night when Jesse didn’t show up for a date with you. It was long ago, Audrey, but I remember it. You were peeved—and decided I might do instead. But Jesse was my friend and I turned you down. Maybe it bothered you just a little that your daughter had something you hadn’t managed to take?”

  “Bastard!” Audrey hissed coolly, slamming a palm against his chest.

  “Hands off, Mrs. Blare, please,” Leif said lightly.

  “Maybe you’re the one who can’t handle it!” Audrey purred in return, coming just a shade closer.

  And it was then that Leif looked over her head to see that the door had opened again. Tracy was standing there, just inside the room, dressed in a high-cut swimsuit that was stunning on her, enhancing her long supple legs and beautifully curved form. She stared at him coolly over her mother’s head, and he wondered as his heart sank what she was thinking.

  She didn’t slam out of the room, though. She was extremely poised. “Mom, Leif, excuse me, I see that you’re busy. I should have knocked.”

  She smiled at them both and departed.

  “Great!” Leif muttered.

  “Maybe she’ll leave you of her own accord this time,” Audrey said sweetly, and when he gazed her way with acute annoyance, he realized that she was enormously pleased about the situation.

  She turned to leave. He grasped her arm and pulled her back. “Audrey, what are you trying to hide?” he demanded. “What is it that you don’t want Tracy telling me?”

  Audrey jerked her arm back. “Nothing!”

  She ran out of his office, slamming the door in her wake.

  Leif followed her more slowly, determined to find Tracy. He straightened his shoulders wearily, certain she would be aloof—certain that explaining her mother’s presence so close to him wasn’t going to be easy.

  And equally certain that no matter how distant and cool she tried to be, he’d warm her back to his side by nightfall. He had to.

  Because he’d have to leave her by morning. Leave her, because, one way or the other, he was going to drag the truth out of someone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tracy didn’t really know what she felt; or, rather, she didn’t feel anything at all. A numbness settled over her while a rational voice warned her that there was certainly nothing between Leif and her mother. But it still bothered her deeply. They knew one another well and had known one another for years. Just what had been the subject of that secret conversation in which Leif had looked like a tiger, batting at cornered but protected prey, and her mother had appeared like a little temptress trying to wile her way out of… something?

  For a moment she wished that a great hole would open up in the earth and swallow them all. But then she felt a quickening sensation sweep through her—something so strong that she paused, gripping the wall as she blindly headed toward the kitchen.

  She was with Leif again—sharing his room, sharing his life—and though the obstacles before them were tremendous, she believed with all her heart that he cared for her.

  And she knew that none of her memories were faulty. He was unique and special to her. The sight of his lean naked body, glowing and golden as he moved, stirred her, and when he came to her she really knew what love meant—what it meant to be held…

  To be a woman, and have a man. To be loved.

  She drew in a ragged breath and started walking again, drawn by the delicious smell of brewing coffee. She paused once she had entered the huge old colonial kitchen with its window loveseat, hanging racks of copper pots, and center butcher-block island. Katie was there, working cheerfully over the stove while she gave instructions to a gardener.

  The man tipped his hat to Katie, nodded an acknowledgment to Tracy, and went on out back. Katie turned around and gave a brilliant smile, left her pot of simmering eggs, and poured Tracy a mug of coffee—black.

  “Good morning! You’re an early riser, too, so it seems, Miss Kuger.”

  “Too?” Tracy smiled back weakly, glad that Katie could be so natural to her—not as if she had never known her before, but as if nothing that had happened had been… humiliating. She was suddenly certain that Leif had forewarned Katie about the events now taking place—a wise move, since it enabled Katie to be perfectly natural about her appearance here, since she was supposedly “living with” Leif.

  “Your brother’s up—he’s out in the parlor. Open the western door and you’ll hear him!”

  Tracy arched a brow and Katie laughed. “Go on through, dear. Breakfast will be ready in about thirty minutes—buffet style in the dining room, since people will be coming and going at different times.”

  Tracy thanked her and went on through the door that led to the front of the house. As soon as she opened the door, she heard Jamie. He was sitting at the piano, idly playing.

  She came in and leaned against the shiny black Steinway, smiling at him. He returned her grin, but didn’t speak at first. He sang out an old English pub ditty that Tracy knew, too—one of her father’s favorite old bawdy tunes.

  Jamie patted the bench and scooted over. She set her coffee mug on a coaster and joined him. They didn’t talk at all for a long time; one of them would start one of Jesse’s old favorites, the other would join in.

  “ ‘Danny Boy’!” Jamie said jubilantly, and Tracy laughed and joined him, loving the ivory keys as he did, loving the pulse, the excitement of creating melodious sound.

  At last they stopped and stared at one another, and laughed again.

  “He taught us both the same things.”

  “He taught you more. You lived with him—I never did,” Tracy reminded him.

  Jamie shrugged. “That’s true, huh.” He looked at her peculiarly for a moment. “You meant an awful lot to him, though, Tracy. He talked about you all the time. Why—why didn’t you ever try to meet me before?”

  She hesitated, thinking that it had all been a loss—and her fault. Then she tried to answer him honestly.

  “Jamie, my life was mass confusion. I was always being tugged one way or another. When I was finally legally responsible for myself, I just wanted some peace, some time to sort things out. I liked working as a songwriter and I could support myself decently. I own a little townhouse in Zurich, and I have another small place up in northern Michigan. Maybe it was running away—but I really did value my freedom and my privacy. I should have made an effort to see you again, though. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

  He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a big hug. “As long as you don’t disappear again, huh?”

  “I didn’t disappear. I met Dad all along—until he was killed.”

  Jamie nodded and started fingering the keys idly again. “You back with Leif for good?”

  “I—I—”

  “None of my business, I know. Hey—Blake!” he said suddenly.

  Tracy followed his gaze and saw that Blake had come in and was staring at them, smiling a little shyly.

  “Come on over here, my friend!” Jamie said.

  Blake looked a little hesitantly at Tracy; she smiled her own encouragement to him, and that won him over. She lifted him up between herself and Jamie, and when she started to show him a scale, she was startled to see his little fingers move over the keys with a wonderful dexterity.

  Bemused, Tracy stared at Jamie. “I forgot—the child is Leif’s son.” She looked back to Blake. “Did your dad teach you how to play the piano?”

  “Some. And Jesse taught me some.”

  “Hey! And who else?” Jamie demanded.
r />   “Oh, yeah, sorry. Jamie taught me, too.”

  Tracy laughed. “Well, I guess you’ve had teachers coming at you in all directions! Do you like the piano?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I like the drums better, though.”

  “The boy is a symphony in himself,” Jamie told her dryly, and Tracy thought she might well agree. “Let’s all do a three-way ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat,’ ” Jamie suggested, and they did, playing the piano with a very strange accord in three different keys.

  They made such a racket, of course, that some of the others joined them. Only when they finished and started laughing did Tracy turn to see that her mother, Leif, and Tiger had come into the room.

  Tiger was chuckling, too—vastly enjoying the scene of the three of them together. “Now that’s something I’ve never heard before!” he announced.

  “You can hope that you never get to hear it again!” Jamie told him, grinning from ear to ear.

  Tracy looked up at Leif; he wasn’t smiling. He was staring at her as if he longed to wrench her from the bench, shake her—and demand an answer.

  To what?

  She didn’t like the smoldering, dark, and somehow dangerous cast to his eyes; she glanced away—and was even more disturbed to meet her mother’s glance.

  Audrey was ashen—very, very pale and still.

  “Mother?” she murmured. “Are you all right?”

  “What?” Audrey seemed to shake herself out of a trance. “Oh, I’m fine. I was just listening. You all reminded me so much of Jesse then—” She broke off with an awkward little laugh. “Ah, well, the Kugers are at it again!”

  She turned, as if she wanted to run out of the room.

  Leif caught her arm, drawing her back around. Tracy suddenly felt very defensive—her mother appeared to be frightened. Leif was giving her a cold smile that chilled even Tracy, far away from his touch.

  “The ‘Kugers,’ Audrey?” he inquired politely. “Blake is a Johnston.”

  Audrey pulled her arm away. “I was referring to Tracy and Jamie.” She ran on into the kitchen, and Leif didn’t stop her.

  His speculative, dark smoke gaze fell on Tracy again, and she realized that she wanted to shake him and tell him that she was sick of his baiting her mother—and hanging her family, no matter what his denials.

  She didn’t shout, though—there were others in the room. But everyone was suddenly silent, suddenly aware of the tension.

  It was only broken when Katie peeked her head into the room. “Breakfast in the dining room, all. Help yourselves, and do enjoy!”

  Katie disappeared. Jamie said that he was starving; he tickled Blake, then ducked down to let the little boy ride on his shoulders to the dining room.

  Tracy found herself left alone in the room with Leif, and suddenly she didn’t want to be there at all. He walked over to her slowly; she felt like bolting out of his reach, but then, too suddenly, he was there, touching her, his hands idly upon her shoulders, thumbs stroking her nape so that she was caught in the hypnotism of his touch.

  She stiffened, wary of his effect on her. He was still in damp bathing trunks. She could feel his bare chest behind, breathe his subtle, masculine scent, and feel all the power in his muscled body as he towered over her. She wanted to turn and bury her head against his taut abdomen—she equally wanted to strike him for his ability to be cruel in his quest for the truth.

  His fingers paused against her.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re not annoyed. I was afraid you were going to think that something had been going on.” “Oh, I do think that something was going on. I’m just not sure what—except that you’re browbeating her over something, and I think you’d better stop—now.”

  His fingers tensed. For a second she felt their power and force, and her heart beat too quickly, because she knew that he could also be cold and totally implacable when he chose.

  “It had better stop—now—Tracy?” he inquired coolly. Then he was suddenly down beside her, his face hard and lacking all tenderness, just a breath away from hers, his fingers clamped around her wrists.

  “No, Tracy, you be forewarned—now. I’m going to dig until I get the truth. And if I discover that you’ve lied to me again, Tracy, if you’ve kept anything from me, you’ll very, very seriously regret it.”

  She tried to wrench from him; he wouldn’t let her, pinning her as ruthlessly with his eyes as he did with his hands.

  “Let me go!” she commanded harshly. “I’m out of this, Leif! You play out your charade alone! If I’m going to tell the truth, I might as well start with telling my mother! That you made this entire thing up. That we’re not—”

  “Sleeping together,” he interrupted her, so mockingly and insinuatively that a hot flash seemed to burn like an inferno inside of her, rendering her suddenly breathless— and furious.

  “Let—me-—go!” she repeated. “I swear to you, I intend to leave this fiasco of yours!”

  His fingers eased suddenly; he smiled at her and released her, standing.

  “Maybe that is the best idea,” he said agreeably, and stood. “Excuse me, will you? I think that I’ll shower and dress. Oh—maybe you’ll want to wait breakfast for me. I’m going to take my brutal browbeating against your poor aging and powerless grandfather in a matter of minutes.”

  He left her. Tracy saw that her hands were shaking; she knew that she would wait. She knew that she would be with him. She wanted to hear what he had to say to her grandfather. And yes, she wanted to be ready to jump to his defense.

  She gazed at her fingers. They still trembled like leaves in the wind. She slammed a hand against the piano. “I hate you, Leif! Honest to God, I hate you!” she whispered.

  But when he had been next to her, she had wanted to touch his chest. Curl her fingers into the hair there, feel his muscles ripple beneath her touch. She’d been with him; they’d made love. And it only made the yearning greater. To know him again, feel his hands on her, his lips, his… body. Moving in hers, with hers…

  She let out a strangled little sound and leapt to her feet. She would not be sleeping with the man again!

  She stalked on into the dining room, attempting desperately to smile with all negligent ease.

  Leif was right back and to Tracy’s surprise, he wasn’t dressed at all for a casual day with guests in his own home. He was in a light, attractively tailored suit, complete with tie and vest. Very striking, very arresting.

  He smelled of soap and after-shave and was completely compelling when he came upon Tracy at the buffet table, catching her elbow, steering her out through the glassed-in family room to the patio and pool beyond.

  “Leif, I don’t want—”

  “Oh, but you do. Arthur is sipping decaf and munching on an English muffin right under the umbrella with your stepfather. We’ll have a lovely breakfast.”

  “Lovely. I mean it, Leif. You watch your step or I’m out of here!”

  He gazed at her with innocent surprise and something dangerous sizzling behind it.

  “That’s right. You’re going to deny—us.”

  “I should, yes.”

  “Ah, but then I could be stunned and hurt and graphically describe the occurrence in question not twenty-four hours ago.”

  “Do what you like, Leif,” she said coolly. But she was no longer tugging against his hold. He knew it; she knew it. He was smiling, she was stiff.

  “Gentlemen, may we join you?” Leif inquired politely of the two men at the wrought-iron table.

  “Please do,” Ted said cheerfully. But Tracy thought that her stepfather seemed uncomfortable, too. Arthur muttered something to Leif and gave Tracy a very stiff good morning.

  In the next ten minutes, Tracy felt herself foolishly lulled into a belief that Leif did intend to be pleasant. He discussed the weather, Jamie’s concert—and asked polite questions about Tracy’s baby half brother, Ted’s pride and joy.

  But then he finished with his food, sat back, and lit a cigarette. And cast an affectionate an
d possessive arm around the rear of Tracy’s chair, idly rubbing her neck with his fingers, as a lover might do.

  Tracy reddened; to throw off that touch would be very obvious. After all, there was nothing wrong with it. It was casual, not a public display.

  She didn’t have time to think about it long; Leif struck then with his trump card, a tight smile still on his lips.

  “Arthur, I understand that you and Jesse had quite a row just before he was killed. I was just mentioning it to Tracy—out of idle curiosity, you know. What on earth did you two find to argue about twenty-something years after the fact?”

  For a moment, she was afraid that her indomitable grandfather was about to have a heart attack.

  “Leif!” she cried out in stricken reproach, rushing around to Arthur’s chair, kneeling down beside him. “Grandpa—”

  But he didn’t notice her. He waved her away, white and ashen, staring at Leif much as her mother had done before. And he seemed frightened—angry, but frightened. She gazed at Leif’s face and saw the merciless expression in his eyes.

  “Who the hell ever told you that Jesse Kuger and I had a row over anything?” Arthur Kingsley demanded.

  Leif smiled, and it was a smile more threatening than any scowl Tracy had ever seen.

  “His secretary mentioned it to me. I was curious—I didn’t know that you and Jesse had seen each other recently. Not since the day you came here and dragged Tracy away after knocking me out.”

  “Please, must we—” Ted began.

  “Leif,” Arthur interrupted coolly, “I probably shouldn’t have struck you with the bat. You’ve just got a lethal strength; you were a jungle fighter—Jesse never was. Granted, he attacked you. But you could have killed him. None of us had any idea that you didn’t know Tracy was Jesse’s daughter—or that she was a runaway child. We didn’t know that she had duped you and lied.”