The Beauty of Lies

by Brinda Berry

  He guides me from the table and out the door. I glance over my shoulder and wave at Dane and Josie. “Thanks for the game. This was fun. So. Much. Fun.”

  Leo’s hand glides across my back to my opposite hip. “Steady.”

  “I am steady.” I wobble to the door and he opens it. “Maybe not.”

  “Yeah,” he says, his lips so close to my hair. A pleasant chill travels down my spine and I shiver.

  “I live there,” I say, pointing across the hall.

  He laughs instead of answering.

  I dig in my short’s pocket. “No key. I had a key earlier. It’s gone. Someone’s stolen it.”

  The heat of Leo standing so close to me makes it difficult for me to concentrate on the key search. I throw up my hands in defeat.

  “Let me.” He moves flush to my back and his chest pushes against me as he leans in. His fingers edge to the top of my right pocket and push down inside.

  My head falls back into the crook of his neck. “You can search all my clothes for a key. You just do whatever it takes. Leave no stone unturned.”

  His hand inside my pocket pulls my body closer against him behind me. He kisses the side of my head. “I’m tempted.”

  Leo pushes his hand deeper into my pocket and the thin fabric is really no barrier to the luscious feel of his fingers against my skin. He traces his fingers across the edge of my panties.

  I moan. “Maybe you’ll have to do this forever. I probably don’t even have a key.”

  He pulls his hand out. “You do. Got it.” Suddenly, there are beautiful masculine fingers and a stupid gold key in front of my face.

  “Shoot.” I grab for the key, but he dismisses my efforts.

  He opens the door, and we both walk inside. His arm is still around me and he turns me toward him. “You going to be OK? I think I should put you to bed.”

  Every cell in my body hums a happy tune. The pleasant buzz of alcohol plays a sexy song, and I allow it to loosen my inhibitions. “I’ll let you under one condition.”

  He inhales. “Anything the lady wants.”

  “I’d like a kiss.”

  Leo studies me, his blue eyes darkening. “You’re drunk.” Then he bends his heads and touches his lips to my cheek in a chaste kiss.

  When he pulls back, I frown. “You don’t want to kiss me.”

  “I did kiss you,” he says, brow furrowed.

  “I meant a real kiss. Like you want me. A passionate, I-might-fall-in-love-with-you kiss.” I shouldn’t have said it, but it’s exactly what I mean.

  “Babe,” he says and laughs. “You have no idea.”

  “Kiss me again.”

  He puts his hands on the back of my neck and pulls me to him. When his head lowers this time, I close my eyes instantly.

  Leo’s lips part the seam of mine and I gasp as his tongue teases its way inside. The kiss accelerates like a bike coasting from the top of a hill. The thrill of the ride amps my heart rate and makes me want to hold on tighter.

  His fingers tunnel into my hair and I grab the front of his T-shirt.

  Leo’s mouth turns up at one corner in a smile I can feel and his lips move away from mine to trace kisses down my cheek and neck.

  He gently kisses the base of my neck. “Is this what you had in mind?”

  “Mmm…” I answer. My head swims a lazy circle, and I’m so drowsy that I can’t seem to open my eyes.

  I drop my hands from the tight hold on his shirt to rake a trail down his chest, his stomach, and hips. Sliding my fingers to the back of his waist, I drag him closer to me. His mouth finds mine again.

  He wins the Oscar, or Emmy, or gold freaking medal for kissing. Hands down.

  The tips of my fingers slide into the back of his shirt and run along his waist where his jeans hang on his slim hips. He shudders.

  “Babe,” he whispers against my lips.

  His full erection presses against me, and I stop moving my hands. “You like this kiss,” I tease against his lips. “Me, too.”

  Leo stops moving and puts a hateful inch of space between us. I groan a complaint.

  “Bed,” he says, his lips against the top of my head.

  “I want more kisses. I want you to know you are so beautiful.” I say to him with my eyes closed. “You are a beautiful enigma. The woods have secrets dark and deep…”

  “You need to sleep this one off.”

  “I’m not sleepy. More kissing.”

  He leads me to my bedroom.

  * * *

  My brain slogs into gear. I open both eyes in unison and end up closing the right one to limit the sunlight burning a hole in my retinas. I have no idea of the time or the day, but I do know something.

  There’s a body on the other side of my bed.

  A wave of nausea rolls around my stomach. I turn my head to see the lump beside me and the dark hair. If someone were in my bed…I’d expect blond. I’d expect Leo. I’d expect…a larger body.

  “Hey,” I say in a croak reminiscent of pond frogs on a summer night.

  “What? I’m still asleep.” Josie rolls onto her back.

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Who’d you expect?” she says, her eyes slitting open and pinning me with a knowing look.

  “I don’t know…oh, I’m going to be sick.” I take a shallow breath and push down the feeling.

  Josie gently pushes me to the edge of the bed. “Go. If you puke on me, I’ll start puking.”

  I drop my legs off the side of the bed and go to the floor. I’m on my hands and knees when Josie appears with a trash can.

  “Here,” she says. “Take it, but I can’t stay. I cannot be around someone getting sick. It’s a vomit phobia. Sorry!” She puts the back of her hand to her mouth and makes a gagging sound.

  “I’m not puking! Stop.”

  “Just imagining. I’ll go get Leo. I’m so sorry. Just watching you…” She places the trash bin near my head and then her footsteps recede.

  I lift my body and move toward the trash can. I’m not going to vomit. I can do this.

  Then I put my head inside the canister and retch. So much for not vomiting. Tears stream down my cheeks, and I quit trying to fight it.

  A faint rustling sound alarms me that either Josie is braving the vomit or she’s brought help. Please let it be the first.

  “Here’s a washcloth,” Leo says in a low, soothing voice.

  “Josie is a traitor.” I take the washcloth from him and wipe my sweaty face and then my mouth.

  “She has a low threshold for medical emergencies. I, on the other hand, am an excellent nurse.”

  “Gah,” I say in a self-disgusted groan. “Better than a low threshold for alcohol.”

  He places a hand on my bare shoulder and squeezes. “I’m going to get you some water and aspirin.”

  I sit up with my back to the bed, laying my forehead on my bent knees. When he returns, I lift my head. “Thanks.”

  He hands me the glass and pills. “Try to drink all the water.”

  I can’t do anything but obey. My head throbs in unison with my heartbeat. My mouth tastes like I’ve eaten something served in hell.

  Leo takes the trash bin away and leaves the room, returning with a package of saltines. “Here. A couple of these on your stomach will help.”

  “I need to die. Now.” I place a bite of cracker on my tongue and suck the salt before swallowing.

  “Nah. You’re going to make it.” He sits beside me on the floor. “It’s my fault. I should’ve said no to the game. You can blame me.”

  “You had more to drink than I did,” I say in an accusing tone.

  He nods. “I never get sick. Josie doesn’t really either.”

  “Oh.”

  “Dane slept on my sofa, and he’s going to be as sick as you are.”

  “I’m never drinking again.”

  Leo grins as he stares at the wall. “You were pretty funny.”

  “Did I do or say anything horrible?”

  He lo
oks up at the ceiling and then over at me. “You said you thought I was beautiful.” Leo’s mouth splits into a huge grin. “You can’t take it back. Liquor loosened your tongue last night, for sure.”

  I cover my face with both hands. “Oh.”

  “Yes. You did. But it was nice. And we kissed. Do you remember that?”

  I’d shoved this memory to the back of my brain, and it rushes forward. That kiss. Angels must’ve laid down their harps and sighed.

  Mortifying heat singes my cheeks. I’d asked for it. I think I may’ve begged for it. “Well, I am going to crawl back under the covers and hide for the rest of the day.”

  “Good idea.” Leo stands and offers his hands to me. “Come on. Back to bed. I’ll drive Josie home and check on you later.”

  “Leo?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thanks.” I get into bed, still wearing my clothes from yesterday.

  “Anytime. You were fun last night. Sorry you’re paying for it today.” He walks to my doorway and lingers, bracing both hands on each side of the threshold.

  “Tell Josie bye.”

  He smiles. “Will do. If you feel better later, I’ll take you out for something more than saltines. Don’t fix lunch.”

  My heart skips rope, performing double-unders that keep my lungs from functioning. How long can a person live without oxygen? Must. Breathe. “I could eat here. You don’t have to take care of me.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s for my own good. Dane will be on my sofa, and it’ll be great to leave him be for a while. So, rest up and I’ll be back later.”

  Leo takes a few steps out of the room and then returns.

  “You forget something?” I ask.

  “Just wanted you to know I think you’re beautiful, too.”

  I inhale. There are my lungs again. I didn’t know I’d been holding my breath, but I obviously could forget to take in air again if he doesn’t leave soon.

  Before I can think of a witty reply, something casual and sitcom funny, he turns and leaves my apartment.

  I asked Leo to kiss me. I do remember most of it—the pressure of his mouth on mine and the absolute feeling of rightness. It’s as if his kiss fit perfectly into the hole in my heart, filling it up like putty to stopgap the blood pouring out.

  How can I remember that kiss so well and be so fuzzy on the other parts of the night?

  I snuggle my head into my pillow, thinking of Leo’s kiss. The apartment is quiet except for the noises from the downstairs bakery. It’s a Saturday and customers will come in throughout the day. I can never hear their conversations, but the door opens and closes. The metal pans clink against the oven racks.

  I don’t fall into sleep as I’d hoped, but I lie still and quell the nausea for a while. When it’s safe to move, I crawl out of bed and into the shower.

  Hours later, I’m sitting on the edge of my bed painting my nails when there’s a soft knock at the door. I’m on my feet and running past the half wall that separates my bedroom from the living area. Then I stand with my hands flat on the door, check the peephole, and try to get my heart rate under control for the next ten seconds.

  What am I doing? He didn’t ask me to go on a date. Or did he? No. Lunch is not a date.

  Besides, he’s still Leo the neighbor-writer-postcard-hoarder. I pull the door open. “Hi.”

  Leo, who was attractive when I first saw him, gets more irresistible every day.

  “Hey,” he drawls and leans with his right hand high on my threshold. The movement puts him far too close to me.

  I tense as I imagine throwing myself into his arms. He’d catch me with those very capable hands. And then I’d profess undying love after one kiss last night.

  The thought triggers something at the edge of my memory, like an important box placed on a high shelf.

  Last night, did I tell him about my postcard? No. I don’t think so.

  He’s never admitted he writes Mr. Expose, as if it’s some huge secret.

  I shuffle uncomfortably. “Thanks for everything from, you know, earlier. Is Josie OK?”

  “Yeah. She’ll be fine. I told you. She doesn’t get sick.” He chuckles and walks past me into my apartment and sits on the arm of the sofa. It’s my newest addition to the apartment, delivered just yesterday. It’s comforting to see Leo making himself at home in my space.

  I could get used to sharing everything with him.

  “Ready for a bite to eat?” He unfolds his arms and stands.

  Lunch and Leo, a combination too tempting to resist. “I could do that. But we have to go Dutch. I’ll pay for mine.”

  Leo gets up and walks to the door. He gives me a slow grin, his wide mouth revealing even, white teeth. The gleam in his eyes shoots a thrill straight through my heart. “We can wrestle for the ticket.”

  9

  Canary in the Coalmine

  Leo

  Drinking always makes me ravenous the next day. It’s the way my metabolism works. Harper, on the other hand, still appears a little green around the edges and avoids looking at my plate.

  She nibbles on a poached egg and toasted bagel. We’re at Pistol’s on Music Row since Harper says she hasn’t been to many places besides Dastardly’s. I’m having a steak scramble and relishing every bite, my appetite on full blast since waking up this morning.

  Harper’s not meeting my gaze, for some odd reason.

  “Is your egg good? You’re not eating much.”

  She presses her lips together and shakes her head quickly.

  “Too soon after?” I motion with my fork at the food on her plate.

  “Not if you have a stomach of steel—which you obviously do.” One corner of her mouth tips up. “You had as much to drink as I did. I think.”

  I fork a bite of flank steak into my mouth and grin while I chew. “Um hm.”

  She rubs a hand over her eyes. “I never drink. Did I tell you my daddy is a Baptist preacher? I grew up thinking alcohol will send you straight to hell.”

  My mouth twitches a little in amusement. “A lot of folks will be toasting marshmallows there if that’s true.”

  She gives a half-hearted laugh. “Bonfire party.”

  “Be careful if you’re not used to drinking. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Last year, Dane had his wait staff watching out for some guy who was going around dropping roofies in girls’ drinks. I wouldn’t want some guy to take advantage of you while you’re wasted.” I cringe at the thought of anything happening to her.

  “I would never do anything stupid,” she says.

  “No.” I grin and tear off a piece of toast. “But you were very friendly when you were drinking last night, and there are some really bad people in the world.”

  “Yeah. Don’t I know it.” She makes a face and grabs her water glass to concentrate on taking a sip.

  Her expression is fierce. Has someone done something bad to her?

  Harper places her glass on the table. “I knew I was safe with you. You wouldn’t take advantage of me.” She picks her water back up and takes a drink.

  “Oh, but I wanted to.”

  Harper chokes. It takes her a few seconds to compose herself. Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. “It’s not nice to tease. Are you trying to kill me? I almost died there.”

  She’s playing it off like it’s all a big joke, but my comment really got to her. I don’t want her to be nervous, but she might be if she knew I had an ice-cold shower after leaving her apartment. “I had fun last night.” I have an urge to reach across and haul her up to kiss me across the table.

  “Me, too. Josie and Dane are crazy.”

  “Yeah. They are.”

  “I didn’t know they were dating,” she says.

  Harper glances up at a couple of guys who sit at the table beside ours. One, a guy in a red plaid shirt, is giving her too much attention for my liking. I stare at him until he sees me and looks away.

  I take a bite from the orange slice on my plate and shake my head. “They’re not.”<
br />
  “But they really like each other.”

  “Yup,” I agree.

  “Are you positive?”

  “Oh, yeah. But they are both hard-headed and have this thing about remaining friends.”

  Harper pushes her plate to the side and rests her chin on her hand. “Oh,” she says, understanding dawning in her eyes. “They think it will ruin their friendship.”

  “Um hm.” I fork another bite of steak into my mouth. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

  “That’s nice. So, is Dane your best friend?”

  I shrug. “He’s like a brother to me. Sometimes an irritating brother, but that’s how it goes. I’m lucky that I stay in touch with a few of the guys I grew up with.”

  “I wish I had that. Wesley never liked anyone I made friends with.”

  I frown at her. Her husband must’ve been a jerk. “You’ll make friends here. It takes time when you move somewhere new.”

  “I guess.” She gives me a sad smile and looks away.

  “Well, my sister thinks you’re awesome. Dane, too. Tell me more about your life in Washington.”

  She fidgets uncomfortably. “So you, Dane, and Josie grew up here?”

  Her change of subject is too quick. I want to know more about Washington, her dead husband, her life. But it’s also good that she wants to know about me. “Yes. I moved away for college and then came right back here.”

  Something—a sound or a voice—catches my attention and my glance wanders to the restaurant door. Tori, my ex-girlfriend, stands beside a dark-haired girl I don’t recognize. They both scope the tables, looking for an empty spot or to see if someone is almost finished with their food. She spots me before I have a chance to look away.

  Our eyes lock. My heart rate quickens at the promise of a scene, because Tori is all about making every encounter a battle. Sweat breaks on my forehead and my appetite bails.

  I command myself to break the laser tractor beam of Tori’s stare.

  I was stupid to bring Harper to Pistol’s. I take a slow, deep breath and return my attention to Harper. “Did you say something?”