The Beauty of Lies Read online

  It’s a much higher chance that the person I love will be unfaithful. I did research on that one as well. Estimated 30 to 60 percent of married people commit infidelity.

  And if that person isn’t honest from the beginning, what are my odds then?

  There are too many variables that say my luck is precarious when it comes to Harper.

  I turn my head to the side and study her. We’ve only been in the sunshine for half an hour, but she’s dry and I am, too. Still, I can’t bring myself to wake her.

  A butterfly lands on the swell of her breast, opening and closing its wings in a colorful display. She wrinkles her nose and her eyelids flutter open.

  I shut my eyes.

  “Hey,” she says, her voice croaky from sleep. “Are you awake?”

  “Hm?” I pretend to wake and lean up on one elbow. “I am now.”

  “I think I’m getting too much sun.” She pulls the fabric of her bra away to see the pink tan line.

  I quickly look away. She’s killing me. Slowly. “We should go. I need to get back to do some things anyway.”

  By the time we leave the lake to head back home, I’m exhausted from the effort of keeping my gaze and hands to myself. Harper’s a mess with her tangled hair, wrinkled clothes, and sunburned nose. Absolutely gorgeous.

  It’s all I can do to stay focused on the road. I put the cruise control on and glance over at her again.

  “I saw you staring at me when you thought I wasn’t looking.” Harper appears to be napping and you wouldn’t even know she’d said anything. Her head rolls my direction her lips curve into a smile.

  “You want to know the truth?” I click the car blinker once and change lanes.

  “No. Lie to me.” She cracks one eye open and peers at me.

  “I was counting your freckles. Watching to make sure you didn’t burn. Of course, I failed at that.” I pause dramatically. “OK. I’ve been caught. I’m a guy. Of course I looked.”

  She laughs. “I don’t have freckles in the places you were looking.”

  I click the button on my steering wheel to turn some music on. A pop song comes on and I sing along with the parts I know.

  Harper’s lips curve into a smile. She sits quietly with her eyes closed for several miles. I think she’s fallen asleep until she mutters something.

  “What was that?” I turn the music down.

  She sighs. “Thanks for bringing me. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Ask.”

  “About Tori.”

  My hand tightens on the steering wheel. I flex my fingers to relax. “OK.”

  “Is Tori the outdoors type? Did you go fishing and stuff with her?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” I throw her a sidelong glance.

  “What was your favorite thing about her?”

  On the list of possible questions she could ask, this doesn’t even make the list. “I don’t know.”

  “Sure, you do. You were attracted to her because she was smart or something.”

  I laugh at this. “Um, no. That wasn’t it. Why do you want to know?”

  “She doesn’t seem like your type.” Harper stretches her arms above her head, cat-like in her movement. “I’m surprised you went for her.”

  “Me, too.” I drop my shoulders and try to relax. Harper’s tone is conversational, and I can tell she’s not picking a fight. Not like Josie does when we talk about Tori.

  “She’s hot, if you like that high-priced call-girl kind of thing.” Harper’s tone drips acid.

  Maybe I was wrong about the fight. I laugh anyway. “She works hard for it.”

  Harper sits up and turns to me, drawing one leg underneath the other in the seat. She grins. “Oh, you’re going to have to explain that.”

  It feels so good to be talking with Harper. I shouldn’t be talking badly about Tori. I hate it when people are malicious about their exes. Two people make a relationship work and two people ruin one. I understand I was to blame for some things.

  But for once, it’s like I’m lifting a thousand pound burden to say the things I’ve never voiced aloud.

  “She works in a salon. I’d bet she clocks a hundred hours a month purely on her appearance. Hair, color, nails, tan, some other shit I can’t even remember.” I keep my tone flat, so I don’t sound bitter. These things aren’t really what would keep me from loving someone.

  “And you didn’t like that?” Harper asks.

  “I ignored it. I mean—don’t get me wrong—I appreciated the result at the time. But looking back, it’s crazy. That is her focus in life. Looking the way she does.”

  “So, how’d you not know she was married?”

  And now we get to the crux of the relationship problems. Harper doesn’t mess around. I look at her and back to the road. “I should have. All the clues were there if I’d paid any attention at all.” I pause. “It’s like a mystery novel where you see all the details you missed because you were distracted by the wrong things.”

  “Tell me the clues.” Her voice coaxes me with its softness.

  “She always came to my place. Never me to hers. She said she had a roommate that I never met. She said she lived in Germantown but wasn’t familiar with a bookstore there I mentioned. One day, I kept trying to call her and it would go straight to voicemail. I was out in Green Hills picking up something. It was around lunchtime. And there she was, holding hands with some guy.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Harper says in a commiserate tone.

  I have no doubt she understands the feeling of being duped. “I’m not. She was a liar and a cheat—two things I won’t tolerate.”

  She’s not laughing. “Sorry.”

  I grin humorlessly. “Yeah, well, I’m glad I found out. She was never going to tell me.”

  “She wasn’t worried her husband would find out?”

  “He already knew. They have an understanding. She dates other people. He does, too. They have an open marriage.”

  “That’s twisted.”

  “Like a snake.”

  She takes a deep gulp of air and sits straighter in her seat. “Wesley and I weren’t really married. I found out he already had a wife. That doesn’t work unless you live in Utah.”

  I nearly swerve off the road trying to look at her. The tires make squealing sounds when I take a curve too quickly. I’ve known about her husband ever since I looked up the postcard I was missing. The image scan told me why she’d want it back.

  “Hey, don’t kill us!” She yanks on her seatbelt like she’s checking it. Then, she’s silent for several seconds.

  I pull over to the side of the road and turn to her. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”

  Why couldn’t she tell me this in the beginning? Why hide the truth until now? My desire to forgive her for everything wars deep inside me. I switch back and forth between wanting to start all over and needing to run.

  “Because I felt stupid.” She traces a pattern of freckles on her thigh, then looks up at me. Hurt and anger radiates from her gaze. “Can you imagine how it feels to know you’ve ignored all the clues—clues like you talk about. Things I should’ve seen. The police came to our house, because the wreck was in Tacoma. I was asked to identify the body. That’s when everything got weird, because he had another wallet in the glove compartment of his truck. Another set of identification and another place of residence.”

  I shake my head. “You couldn’t know. Who would guess something like that? It’s insane.”

  “I didn’t tell you because it’s embarrassing. What kind of loser doesn’t catch on to something that huge? Husband gone for weeks on end. No visit to meet his parents. No old friends calling him. So much was missing. I should’ve known.”

  “No. You couldn’t. Don’t ever call yourself a loser. You’re the sweetest, kindest person I know.” I’m so pissed about her admission, I can barely contain my anger. Anger at him. Anger at myself for not seeing she’s as messed up as I am when it comes to relationships.

/>   I grip the steering wheel until my fingers hurt. I relax my hold and flex my fingers of my right hand and then my left. “If I hadn’t caught you rifling through my things in the bookshelf, would you’ve told me everything?”

  She pauses, her gaze fixed on the dashboard. Then she pivots in her seat to look at me, her expression earnest. “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I’d like to say I would have, but the truth is scary. I thought if you knew, I’d lose you. And I was right, wasn’t I.”

  I turn back to focus on the road. I wanted her to say that she’d planned to tell me. Maybe I didn’t want to hear the truth, after all.

  * * *

  I’m antsy since Josie turned me down when I offered to drive them both to Dastardly’s. I’m supposed to show up at 8:30. It’s 7:00 and the bar is crowded already with patrons ready to start their weekend early. I scan the room and spot Dane. He’s behind the bar, so I make my way there.

  It takes him several minutes to wait on a few customers. I stand, since all the bar stools have already been taken.

  The girl to my right gives me a once over. “Hey there.”

  “Hi.” I glance away from her so she won’t take my greeting as some invitation to start a conversation.

  “Want to buy me a drink?” she asks.

  I turn back to her. “Sorry. I’m with friends.”

  Dane approaches and winks at the girl beside me. He turns my way. “What’ll you have?”

  “Nothing. Just came to say hi before I go to the back. Josie and Harper here yet?”

  “Oh yeah. And a room full of women.” He studies me. “You don’t want to go back there. I think this is like an all-female thing. No men allowed.”

  His statement doesn’t bother me. I figure Josie’s asked all her buddies so they can meet Harper. I have to give it to my sister for being sweet and trying so hard to help Harper make friends.

  “I’ll go on back.”

  Dane gets a weird look on his face, all wide eyes and arched eyebrows. “Hey,” he says. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Do you know what’s going on in there?”

  One corner of my mouth twitches. He must think I’m afraid of a little cake and singing. “Sure. All fun and games. I’m secure in my masculinity.” I smirk at him.

  He shakes his head, grinning. “You’re the man. Seriously.”

  Someone calls his name across the bar, and he’s gone to take care of the customer.

  At the back of the room, I hear chants and squeals. I can’t help but feel so proud of my sister for doing this for Harper. It’s surprising that a bunch of girls sound louder than a bunch of guys rallying for their favorite football team.

  I turn the knob and walk inside, closing the door behind me. It’s a large banquet room, one that can host up to twenty-five people. The room is filled and there’s loud music playing from an iPod and speaker setup. A couple of women stand in front of me, but I’m a head taller so I can see clearly.

  I shake my head, unsure that I’m not seeing things. There, at the opposite end of the room, is my Harper, on a platform stage with a Happy Birthday Girl crown on her head. And beside her? A shirtless guy in tight, white, sailor pants giving her a lap dance.

  He removes her crown and replaces it with the fake naval cap he’s wearing. His hips gyrate so close to her face, it’s a miracle he’s not knocking her teeth out.

  No. Hell, no. We are not playing Navy.

  I push the girl in front of me aside and walk briskly past the ones trying to get a better look at the show.

  “Take it off!” a female voice yells at me. My mouth tightens, and I shake my head.

  Harper glances up and sees me. We lock eyes. There are a dozen women in the room and a very confident, half-naked dude, but in that moment, it’s just the two of us in the whole universe.

  Navy realizes she’s not paying attention and places his fingers on her chin. He turns Harper’s head toward him. In a smooth move, Navy grabs her hand and rubs it down his oiled chest.

  I make it to the stage and grab his hand in a strong hold to remove it from hers. “Off-limits.” The bass of the music is loud and I’m in his face. Navy doesn’t have to hear me. He reads my face. He nods amiably and dances his way back a foot, looking around for his next target.

  Harper gives me a meek smile. “Leo.”

  “Could I have a word with you?” I grab her hand.

  Josie comes stomping onto the stage. “No, you don’t,” she yells. “You weren’t even supposed to be here yet.”

  “I’m early,” I say, through gritted teeth. “You can take care of Navy here.”

  I drag Harper behind me through the crowd of women who totally ignore me in favor of the stage. As I open the door to exit, I glance over my shoulder to see Josie dancing with the male stripper. I make a mental note to have a word with her later. Many words that I can’t repeat in public.

  “Hey, I can’t leave my own party.” Harper drags her feet like a kid being hauled out of the grocery store after eating a handful of stolen candy.

  I pay no attention to her protests and lead her straight to Dane’s office. I close the door behind me, making sure to turn the lock.

  My head is crazy-full of thoughts that burn me. The image of Navy touching her—his hands on her and her gaze on him—of her wanting him… But I know I’m acting like a jealous boyfriend, and I have no right. I’ve told her we are only going to be friends.

  But after today and the thing between us at the lake, I admit I’m a liar. I can’t be friends and nothing more.

  It would be much easier if I could pretend it’s all physical.

  Harper looks up at me and she’s still wearing that damned Navy cap. Her face is flushed and she’s breathing hard.

  I remove the cap and toss it to the floor. “Having fun?” I ask in a low voice.

  “I…uh…was. It’s the first birthday party anyone’s ever thrown for me. And that guy was embarrassing but funny. Don’t be mad at Josie. She was trying to make this night special. Fun.”

  My jealously dissipates, fizzling out like unknotted balloon. I am an ass. I step toward her. The birthday girl doesn’t deserve to be yanked out of her party by a lunatic. I’ll make it up to her. “What if I give you a private dance?”

  “Sure. If you think you’re up for it.” Her words challenge me. She cocks one eyebrow and grins.

  Dane’s office is small with a desk and his chair behind it. I move to an imaginary beat, stepping toward her with each small movement of my hips. I grab her hips and move her body with mine. She closes her eyes and joins my rhythm.

  Our bodies pull toward each other until we’re touching. I dance her to the edge of Dane’s desk and put my hands on her waist. She’s easy to lift onto the desk. My hands linger on her waist.

  I keep dancing to the beat and move between her legs. She’s wearing a short, silky dress that rides higher as I push my body into the space. My hands skate down her bare thighs. Harper shivers. She closes her eyes and her head falls back.

  Her reaction heats me like a human blowtorch. I’m heating her skin with each touch of my hands. She’d better not be thinking of Navy guy.

  “Look at me.” My voice grates husky and low. I’m not even sure she hears me.

  Then, her eyes flutter open, the pupils dark and dilated. She runs the tips up her tongue across her lips.

  I still move to a beat, but bend my head to lightly kiss those soft, wet lips. “Happy birthday.”

  One corner of her mouth tips. “Thanks,” she whispers.

  The sound of live music from the front of Dastardly’s bleeds into the back room. The hard rock guitar riff fits my mood. Reckless.

  I trail my finger down Harper’s throat, down the opening of her shirt, down to hem of the dress that’s riding up to frame her thighs indecently.

  “What…” She trails off when my fingers brush against her inner thighs inside the hem of the dress.

  “Shh…” I grin and never break eye contact with her.

  There’s a
pulse throbbing in her throat that’s probably in time to the throb in my pants. I rub a finger to the edge of her panties.

  Harper drops her forehead onto my chest. I can feel her breathing quicken. It hitches when I squeeze her bare thigh with one hand. My other continues to tease, my fingers stroking along the silky fabric.

  “Want this?” I ask.

  She nods against my chest.

  “Say, ‘Please, Leo. I want this for my birthday.’” I tease her with the press of one finger against the damp fabric.

  “Yes, please, Leo.” Her head’s still down on my chest, and she places both hands on my shirt. Her fingers curl into the fabric.

  I move the crotch of her panties aside and stroke the tender flesh. I rest my finger at her entrance and kiss the top of her hair. “Want more?”

  She nods and attempts to pull me closer. There’s no way to get closer unless I’m inside her. And even though that’s what I want, I restrain myself. This is a present for her, not me.

  I slowly push my finger inside her and she squirms on the edge of the desk. I add a second finger and she gasps.

  “Too much?” I say while continuing to pump my fingers in a rhythm.

  She lifts her chin and looks at me wild-eyed. Frantically shaking her head as if she’s afraid I’ll abandon her.

  I bend and slant my lips against hers. She’s hungry for me. Her tongue thrusts into my mouth immediately. I suck on it and she moans. The sound is edgy, wounded, needy.

  I love it.

  My free hand moves to the top of her panties. I should’ve ripped these off her by now, but I risk insanity at the thought of her going back into the bar without them.

  I continue to pulse inside her opening with one hand and my other dips down into her panties from the top, skims the sensitive flesh it seeks, finds her sweet spot. I rub once with my thumb, and she jolts against me.

  Her lips break away from mine, and she stares into my eyes. “What are you doing to me?”

  I give her a heated look, not slowing the pace of my busy fingers. “Making the birthday girl blow out the candles.”

  She’s not even hearing me, or she’d smile at my cheesy line. My thumb plays back and forth in a quick motion over her clit. Her pleasure builds in sync with my movements. Her head is back enough for me to see the moment she breaks apart and it’s breathtaking. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I don’t want anyone else to see it. Ever.