Tell Me No Lies: The Black Orchid, Book 1

by Magnolia Smith

“And she believes your story? That you’re an accountant?”

  “Forensic accounting, and yeah, she bought it.”

  “Not sexy. I tell the ladies I’m an architect. They eat that shit up with a spoon.” He laughed. “Okay. I get it. But seriously, when you’re done with your ass-set,” he winked at me. “You like that? Please, please text me, call me, something.”

  The vodka had helped. So did the burger and shooting the shit with an old pal. The darkness had momentarily slipped away, allowing for streams of light to shine in.

  “So, Zelie’s off-limits?”

  “Yeah. Speaking of which, she’s having a spa day, so it’s just us lads. What do you say we chill on the beach and catch some rays?”

  “And chicks?

  I chuckled. “And chicks.”

  * * * * *

  Two hours of lying on the beach, and my mood was much improved. I was halfway through the latest military thriller to top the New York Times bestsellers list, while Luke had stopped to talk to anything and everything in a bikini.

  “She was hot, right?”

  I looked up to see a pretty girl walking away, all chocolate skin and long legs wrapped in a chartreuse sarong. “You get her number?”

  “Even better, her address.” He settled back onto his towel. “I’ll see her later tonight at the bar. She said she was Miss Jamaica last year or some shit. Placed third at Miss Universe. Maybe we could have a threesome with her, like in Ecua—”

  He stopped talking and his mouth fell open. “Check out your three o’clock.”

  I put my book down and followed his gaze to a young woman in a crimson bikini. Her sleek dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. Her braid trailed to mid-back. Not too tall or petite, somewhere in the middle, maybe five-five. She was on the thin side but toned with light musculature, like a competitive cheerleader with just the right amount of curves to be seductive but not vulgar.

  Dark, square Jackie-O sunglasses covered her face, but I could make out a slender, elegant nose and full red lips.

  “Fuck,” Luke said, beginning to rise.

  I touched my friend’s arm. “Hold up. You’ve talked to the last ten girls that have walked by. I’m calling this one.”

  “Dude. You know I like’em exotic.”

  I took a deep breath, watching as the girl passed us and walked away. She was beautiful. Her body was beautiful. Like a sun-kissed angel. There was something innocent and untainted about her. “I want to talk to her.” I stood up, dusting the sand from my legs.

  He licked his lips. “What about your China doll?”

  Zelie.

  “She’s work. You know that.” My eyes followed the girl as she passed, slowly making her way down the beach. I could still catch up with her. You want to drag her down to your cesspool of a life? You want to treat her like you treat Zelie and all of your other flings?

  I shook the negative thoughts from my mind. That was precisely what I didn’t want. I wanted a chance at something real, with a normal girl who didn’t lie for a living, or provoke the darkness out of me.

  With a girl like that, I might actually have a chance to crawl away from my old life and eventually start anew.

  Luke lowered his voice. “All you can do is fuck her. You know that.”

  I looked at him. Sadness swooped down like an avenging angel to pummel the freaking butterflies and rainbows zipping around my stomach. “I know the rules. What’s your problem?”

  He yawned. “It’s the look on your face.”

  “How do I look?”

  “Happy. Hopeful. Like a fucking puppy at the pound who’s found a new owner.”

  “I do not look like a fucking puppy.” I tried hard not to smile. Did I? I certainly felt like there was a frisky, exuberant puppy jumping up and down inside my chest. Damn Luke. He knew me so well.

  I watched the young woman pause as the tide lapped over her feet. I almost returned to my seat. He was right, after all. What was the point? I couldn’t offer her more than a good time, a one-night stand. Not with my job. Not with my lifestyle.

  What could I tell her about myself besides my name? That would be the first and last truthful thing I said to her. And then what? Lies. All lies.

  And what about the darkness? What happened when the haze crept inside and I wanted to do dirty things to her, things reserved for pain whores and girls who specialized in charging guys like me top dollar to make them scream?

  What the hell was I thinking? I couldn’t have a normal life. I couldn’t date a normal girl. I wasn’t a fucking normal guy. I was barely human.

  I killed for a living. I hid in the shadows like a snake. I wasn’t good. I was the opposite of good. I was filthy. I was the absence of light. Why did I think I could be with her? Why did I think I could pretend and lie my way into her heart?

  I didn’t deserve sweet and innocent. I didn’t deserve honesty. I deserved exactly what I had. Zelie. Luke. Like attracts like. And then, there was the blood. All over my motherfucking hands.

  I stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear. She was walking away. Soon I would no longer be able to see her. She’d be lost to me.

  But something inside urged me to move toward her. She could save me from the darkness. I needed saving. I wanted to be saved. A part of me deserved to have something good in my life.

  I grabbed my sunglasses and put them on. “I’ll catch you later, Luke.”

  Grinning, he gave me the thumbs-up sign. “Don’t forget to wear a rubber. And remember, it’s just a fuck.”

  I started walking.

  Chapter Two

  I dug my toes into the sand as I meandered down the beach.

  My gaze crossed the incoming waves and stretched as far as the eye could see. The ocean was beautiful, a shimmering blue that appeared endless, but as beautiful as the view was, I could not focus on the natural beauty surrounding the island.

  Fluttering optimism filled my chest. There was something more—excitement. I was excited about my future, about who I was about to become. I wasn’t sure how to define myself just yet. The mere thought of finally being able to burst free from the strict confines of my parents’ expectations brought a smile to my face. After years of towing the family line, doing what I felt was required of me as a dutiful daughter of the Howard family, I was ready to pursue my passion.

  I was an independent and creative with no business working in an office. I’d thought long and hard about what I wanted out of life, and it included making beignets. As insignificant as that sounded, it meant a lot to me. Before she passed, I’d grown very close to my grandmother. There were times when I could talk to her when I couldn’t go to my own parents.

  Following through on an idea I’d developed as a young girl while watching my grandmother cooking and regaling me with familial antidotes had become something of an obsession of mine. I knew making beignets sounded trendy and not necessarily promising but I had a business plan and my grandmother’s stash of generations-old family recipes.

  When I was in college, I started writing down everything I could remember of our talks about how her mother’s family descended from an illicit affair between a French aristocrat and a slave, how her great-great grandmother was an octaroon, famous for her beauty and her beignet stand.

  One day I might even write a book about it. But for now, I just wanted to create a business that would honor my grandmother and fulfill my own dream.

  My parents hated the idea. What was my degree in accounting for? Why had I already invested two years at a company I had no intentions of growing with? How would I support myself? They thought I was crazy for wanting to do something that didn’t appear to be sound, but people had to eat and Southern food was huge, especially among all of the Northern transplants who lived in the Raleigh area.

  I was certain I’d be a success. But I had a plan. And that involved
quitting my current job and going to school again, not for a MBA but to the Culinary Institute of America to enhance my already above average home-cooking skills. I’d already been accepted. All I needed to do now was show up with my bags packed.

  When I left for New York in a few weeks that would be the first time Charlotte and I had been apart in seven years. She was like a sister to me. I mean, I already had a younger sister that was wonderful and I loved her to pieces but Charlotte was almost like the older, more conservative sister I never asked for but needed. She was the same age as me, she just acted older. Except when it came to men, then she had the sense of a three-year-old. But that was another story for another time.

  I was almost near my resort when the hair on the back of my neck rose. A feeling inside of me compelled me to turn around. I stopped walking, ostensibly to gaze at the ocean and looked to my right.

  There was a man standing several yards away. He’d stopped to text someone, I guess. It gave me the perfect opportunity to take him in. I had my sunglasses on, so he couldn’t tell that I was looking at him and not the horizon. And he was glorious. Not a word I’d use often to describe a man, but he was tall with broad, muscled shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist. He was bare-chested with a pair of navy blue swim trunks on. They sat low on his pelvis and showcased a chiseled six-pack. His legs were long and powerfully built.

  He’d obviously been lying outside, the sun had bronzed his skin, adding to the sculpted look of his body. He looked like he spent three hours in the gym every day and probably subsisted on baked chicken, brown rice and green smoothies.

  Being something of a fitness enthusiast myself, I could appreciate his obvious commitment to a healthy body. His head was bowed and he was still fiddling with his phone, so I looked some more. Brazen for me, I know. But he was clearly absorbed in his phone and hadn’t noticed me.

  He had strong features, a square jaw, high cheekbones and a nose with a slight bump in it, which saved him from being pretty in that Roman statue way. His hair was dark, short, like a military cut that had grown out for a few weeks or so. He had shades on, so I couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but I’d guess they were pretty spectacular.

  I looked away from him. Enough was enough. He was beautiful. I started walking again, wondering if I should be so bold as to start a conversation with him. But then again, I was leaving in the morning.

  First to Raleigh for a few days and then Paris to meet up with my travel group. I was going on a culinary tour of France and I could hardly wait.

  I’d never see him again. Now was not the time to meet a guy. I’d set my goals and was about to achieve everything I’d every desired. I’d dared to stand up to my parents and won.

  I couldn’t let the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen slow me down. Besides, guys who looked like that only wanted one thing anyway. He was probably an arrogant, narcissistic jerk. Not that it mattered anyway.

  You’re leaving in the morning. You’ll never see him again.

  That thought made me stop. My heart fluttered and my stomach somersaulted. And I realized, I didn’t want to leave the island without at least knowing his name. What could it hurt to initiate a conversation? I turned around, surprised to see that he was only a few feet away this time.

  He looked at me and grinned. “Beautiful day, huh?”

  My breath caught in my throat. He didn’t seem arrogant. “Yes, it is.”

  He took his sunglasses off then. His eyes were the color of the sea on a cloudy, stormy day. Almost gray, sort of blue. Spectacular, just like I thought.

  “I’m Kael.”

  “Rain.”

  “May I walk with you?”

  His voice was deep, sweet and low and so polite and anachronistically chivalrous, next, I thought he might ask for my dance card.

  “Yes,” I almost whispered. Then repeated myself in a louder tone. “Yes.”

  We began to walk in silence. I suppose neither of us knew what to say. And I didn’t know what to think. I was a bit flustered by him.

  Random things came to mind. His cologne. It was a spicy scent that wafted toward me, tantalizing. His scar. It was long and thin, healed but shone bright white against the taut flesh of his left bicep. His masculinity. It emanated from him like waves of radiation.

  He glanced down at my left hand, looked at my bare ring finger and smiled. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  He was certainly blunt. “No. Are you?”

  “Not on the island for a romantic getaway?”

  And persistent.

  “With my female roommate?” I thought of Charlotte and laughed. “No. We’re both very much into the male species.”

  His lips parted, revealing a cleft in his chin. “Well, I’m definitely a man.”

  I suppressed the smirk appearing on my lips. He was a man and then some. I bit my lip and tried to appear serene.

  “And you didn’t answer my question. Are you involved?”

  He smiled at me and shook his head. “No. I don’t normally do relationships.”

  “Oh?” Umm, okay. I turned to the sea to hide my expression. I felt oddly disappointed. Why? I couldn’t less what he did or did not do.

  The easy grin on his face fell away. “That’s not what I meant to say. I mean, I don’t normally—I travel a lot with my job. It makes relationships difficult…”

  He stopped walking and jammed his fists into his pockets. “What I mean is, I’ve never met someone who made me want to…commit. Settle down.”

  I turned back to him then. Why did his answer make me happy? I wasn’t getting his number. Didn’t want his email address. But I couldn’t stop smiling.

  “I see.”

  We started walking again.

  “I find it hard to believe you’re not seeing anyone.” He tried again. “There’s no guy standing by, waiting to turn a friendship into something more?”

  “Nope.” This guy. He didn’t give off an arrogant vibe, but he was definitely confident. “I find it hard to believe you don’t have some girl pining away for you.”

  He exhaled. “Like I said, I travel a lot. So, I meet women, fairly easy.”

  A chuckle escaped my lips. “I bet. Casanova much?”

  He laughed. “I really try not to lead anyone on.” He sobered. “I can’t. Not in my line of work.”

  A shadow crossed his face and I decided not to ask the natural question, so, what do you do? Whatever it was, he didn’t seem happy about it. But I was definitely interested. He was a bit mysterious. And sad. There was something infinitely sad underneath the movie-star good looks.

  “Where are you from?” He abruptly changed the subject. “I don’t detect an accent.”

  “North Carolina. I’m a Southern girl.”

  His eyes roved up and down my body at a leisurely pace. Not sleazy, just appreciative.

  “Georgia has its peaches. And North Carolina’s got you, huh?”

  I could feel my cheeks burning.

  He smiled like a little boy, a stark contrast to the seriousness I’d seen earlier. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I just gotta put that out there.” He pointed toward a pier that ended in a gazebo surrounded by the ocean, and we headed up a flight of wooden stairs.

  “I’ve been to Charlotte a few times on business. Hatteras Island for vacations. And Raleigh to see the Carolina Hurricanes play.”

  “You’re a hockey fan?”

  “The biggest.”

  “Maybe we’ll go to a game sometime.” My eyes widened. That was presumptuous of me. For all I knew, I’d never see this globe-trotting Casanova after tonight. Not that I wanted to see him. Not that I’d even be in North Carolina.

  “I mean,” I stopped. I had no idea what I meant. I leaned against the wooden rail and gazed into the clear blue water.

  He stopped beside me, his arm bumping mine. “I’
d like to see you again. After today, I mean. For a hockey game or whatever.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure how to respond. My life was in flux. Now was the worst possible time to meet a guy. It wasn’t just that the timing was bad, I didn’t need or want the distraction of a new man, especially one who looked as good as this guy.

  “Or not.”

  Thin lines creased his forehead as he watched me. A guy like him was probably not used to a woman being ambivalent about his attentions.

  “It’s not that I wouldn’t like to see you again, I’m just really, really busy.” I told him about my plans to quit my job, enroll in school and switch professions.

  “That’s great. You know what you want out of life and you’re not afraid to go for it. That’s very attractive.” He reached for my hand. “Let’s go sit in the gazebo and listen to the waves crash.” He glanced at me, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Did that sound corny?”

  I gazed into the direction of the ocean and then at him, my chest feeling like it would explode with happiness. “Nope. Sounds perfect.”

  Allowing myself, if only for a moment to enjoy the here and now, I relished in the feeling of his strong fingers wrapped around my own. “So, you don’t think that’s an obstacle to us…to us…what exactly are we even talking about here? I mean, we just met and I’m leaving in the morning. So…”

  “I just know that I’d like to get to know you better. However, wherever, whenever I can. Like I said, I am never in one place for very long. My schedule will probably be more than an obstacle than yours—there are times when you won’t be able to contact me.” A shadow darkened his face. “I really hope that won’t be a problem.”

  He sat down on a bench built into the wall of the hut and patted the seat beside him.

  We sat for a moment in silence, letting the ocean spray cover our faces. I tried to imagine our life together. Going for jogs. Meeting for coffee. Cooking dinner at my place and then his. We’d definitely have pretty babies—my golden skin, his stormy grayish-blue eyes and both our dark hair.

  But now I was just being ridiculous. We hadn’t even kissed yet. Despite having only known him for two seconds, it was definitely nice to think about.