Bed of Lies (6 page)

He remained stubbornly silent until he finally said, “I haven’t seen her since Gino’s will reading two weeks ago.”

“So why—”

“It’s complicated.”

“I see.”

And still she continued to sit there, watching him in silent scrutiny until frustration seeped warmly from his skin.

“First this inquiry, then Gino’s heart attack, the funeral. She’s been through a lot.”

“So have you.” When she tilted her head, a blond curl slid across her cheek. “All that anger isn’t good. You should see someone.”

“I don’t need a shrink.”

She brushed the curl away. “I
meant
a physiotherapist or masseuse.”

“It’s nothing sleep can’t fix.” He stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankle before eyeing her speculatively. “You know, we’re more alike than you think.”

“Really?”

He ignored the sarcasm. “We’re both work driven, handling a lot of stress, and now we’ve got this situation messing up our lives. Which brings me back to my original problem. What’s our connection, Beth Jones?”

“I know as much as you do.” She glanced out the window as they passed the sign to Sunset Island.

“Sure.”

“So you think I’m hiding something.”

“I’ll bet my fifteen years at Jackson and Blair.”

“And in fifteen years you’ve become a master of avoiding a question,” Beth pointed out.

“What question?”

“Relaxation? You’ve got nothing to lose. Unless you
like
having a sore neck.”

He gave her a look. “Sounds like you want this for me more than I do.”

She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Ignore the expert.” Yet he couldn’t miss that fleeting look of concern as she turned back to the window.

He paused, allowing the events of the last day to press oppressively down. If he watched his back, he could hide out until the press frenzy blew over. Maybe. If luck was on his side.

But there was one big problem. A blonde, beautiful, hostile problem.

“Okay. A massage,” he said suddenly. But when she turned back to him, a small smile blooming, he added, “A massage for some background information.”

She blinked. “Some things are personal.”

“And we’re in each other’s faces, which is about as personal as it gets.”

The silence was absolute, a stark and obscene contrast to the noisy thoughts warring in Beth’s head.

Damn Luke and his steady chip-chip-chipping away at her defenses. She needed space, much more space than this luxurious interior would allow. Like another continent’s worth.

“Look,” she finally said, “I’m tired of arguing.”

“Then don’t.”

For one crazy second, Beth thought about walking away and letting him deal with the mess. Quickly, she rejected it.
He’s prepared to fight for this. So am I.

“I promise I’ll get to the bottom of this, Beth.”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“And I can pull my weight around the house. I can clean, fix that loose pantry door. I even make a mean lasagna.”

A vision of Luke cooking in her kitchen jolted her. Another quickly followed—only this time he was stripped to the waist and teasing her with those come-to-bed eyes.

As if reading her thoughts, he grinned. “You’re tempted. The thought of a home-cooked lasagna got you, hey?”

The fantasy scattered. Confusion and pleasure battled for the lead until irritation won out. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with that seductive smile and I’m-so-charming routine.”

His smile dropped. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to—”

“And don’t insult us both by denying it.” She scowled. “You really think that’s going to work on me?”

Instead of being insulted, that sensual smile just got wider. “You know what I think? I think you’re just trying to pick faults when there aren’t any. That you’re irritated because you desperately want to dislike me. That—” he held up his hand when she opened her mouth to interrupt “—that despite this weird situation you’re actually attracted to me,
cara.
”

She floundered for a second or two, trying to wrap her head around his bluntness, her cheeks flaming at his obvious amusement.

“Rubbish!”

He winked. “You sure?”

If a man could purr, Luke would be doing it right now. Coupled with that look and the memory of heat on her skin where his fingers had caressed her, he personified danger with a capital
D.
And he was about to move into her spare room and share her bathroom.

“Positive.” She turned away as her body hummed, a low throb reminding her that impending danger was only a couple of feet away.

She sat back in the luxurious leather, trying to put her thoughts in order. Yet she kept returning to the same conclusion. She might not like his methods. His mere presence may set her pulse racing and her internal alarms on high. But short of a miracle, she needed help finding Ben and sorting out her bank mix-up.

Plus, his staying with her was a perfect chance to convince him to sell.

Her mouth tightened as she turned back to him. “We need to set some ground rules.”

One eyebrow rose. “Okay…?”

“One. We share whatever information we find.”

Luke nodded.

“Two. No physical stuff. I mean it, Luke,” she warned as his eyes crinkled. “No touching. No smiling. Definitely nothing else.”

“So I can’t smile at you now?”

“You know what I mean. No Mr. Charming. Stop it!”

Luke, to his credit, tried to swallow the offending grin. “I can’t promise that,
cara.
But I will keep my distance if that’s what you want. However,” he added, his mouth kinking up, “if you should change your mind…” Her heart beat a little faster.

“I won’t be asking.”

“Really.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you doubt my willpower?”

“No.” He grinned. “Just questioning why I get you all flustered in the first place.”

The arrogance of the man! Beth looked away as the car finally pulled into the driveway and she leaped out as if her life depended on it.

He followed her up the front steps. “Running away won’t do any good,
cara.
” His liquid voice dropped to a husky rumble. “You tell me I need to relax, but look at you. You’re a bundle of nerves.”

Welcoming the cold indignation that started in the pit of her stomach, she whirled on him.

“You ever think maybe it could be
you
stressing me out?” She jammed her keys in the front door and managed to break a nail in the process. Cursing, she glared at him. “I’ve spent the better part of ten years getting my life just the way I want it and suddenly it’s snatched away. Do you know how damn frustrating that is?” She tightened her hands into fists and placed them on her hips, the keys forgotten, dangling from the lock. “It galls me to ask for help but yes, I need it. But let me get something straight—I don’t need fixing or saving or anything else. And I’m not going to be your project, so you can get that out of your head, too.”

She paused for breath.

“You finished?” Luke asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Good. You got the wrong guy. Playing the knight in shining armor isn’t my thing. All I want is to clear my name and get back to my job. And we both want to keep this out of the papers.”

The keys suddenly fell from the lock and they both bent for them. Their hands collided. Then their gazes. Luke was so close he could smell her—lemons and freshness and rain—could nearly touch those soft curls that framed delicate earlobes. Could even feel the slow heat humming through her skin.

The woman was a baffling mix of “back off” and steely determination. She didn’t want him around, yet she wasn’t going to leave. He’d never felt more confused.

She was the first to straighten. She did it so smoothly and with such aplomb that he almost missed the shadow of regret clouding her eyes.

Finally, Beth managed to open the door.
Touching is supposed to be a major release for stress,
she reminded herself as she walked down the hall.
It boosts your immune system, it eases tension. It releases endorphins to help you relax.

Whoever thought that one up obviously hadn’t been touched by Luke De Rossi.

She glanced back. Luke stood in the doorway, looking very large, very male and totally in charge.

The expression on his face made her nerves backflip. “Trust me, Beth, I’ll get to the bottom of everything.”

Yeah, that’s what she was afraid of.

Six

B
eth fought the overwhelming urge to pack up her things and drive away until this horrible situation was a distant memory. Instead, she went into the kitchen and watched Luke through the window as he made a few phone calls.

Oh, how she desperately wanted to demand he get a lawyer and she’d see him in court. But that would be supremely stupid, not to mention inflammatory.

Remember who he is and what he could do.

Luke De Rossi. In her home. In the bedroom next to hers.

Letting him in was a mistake. Luke was a very smart man, not to mention determinedly single-minded—and she had so much to lose, so many secrets to guard.

She watched him pace her front yard, phone still attached to his ear as the sun glared down, bathing him from shiny head to toe.

Her stomach made a weird little lurch.

You sure your secrets are all you’re worried about?

With a snort she yanked open her cupboard. He could deny it all he wanted—Luke
was
a white knight. He obviously believed they would sort everything out, the bad guys would be caught and justice would prevail.

She did not.

It would be better to think of him as a self-absorbed, perfectionist career junkie instead of the truth—that beneath the tough exterior was a man who wanted to spare his family further heartache, no matter how tainted Gino Corelli’s reputation had become. Who held her hand to distract her during that interminable flight.

Who wanted to make her lasagna.

She banged a cup on the countertop with a satisfying crack.

How long since a man had touched her? Wanted her? And he felt so good, smelled like a gift straight from heaven. Celibacy did that to you, made you forget what it was like to need someone.

Oh, boy
.

Yanking open the fridge, she pulled out a carton of juice.

Why now, after all those years of denial, all those years spent carving out a life, did she have to start thinking of sex? And with someone like Luke De Rossi, a man whose mere presence could ruin everything?

Because you’ve got a good-looking guy up close, and you know that abstinence has been too much
.

Beth poured the juice with an unsteady hand. She didn’t even like him.

She glanced out the window just in time to see Luke bending down to take an overnight bag the driver had retrieved from the trunk. His pants stretched tight, outlining a set of perfectly formed buttocks, and she groaned, turning away.

She would just have to focus on the problem at hand and
not
on that smooth-talking, dark-eyed, divine-smelling, soft-lipped…distraction about to settle in the guest room so unnervingly close to hers!

As Luke walked in, she downed the rest of her juice, muttered, “I’ll make up the spare room,” and left.

The room that served as her office was a mess. Aromatic oil bottles and bags of fragrant leaves littered every available space on the windowsill and bookcase. She grabbed up a box and stashed them in the wardrobe. Then she put the scattered accounts folders back on the shelves, drew the curtains, returned a pair of sneakers to her room. Even as she pulled out the sofa bed and started to make it, she still couldn’t get that flight out of her head. The soft caress of Luke’s fingers, the feel of his breath, the burn of want in his eyes. And his pure male smell, all warmth and promise.

It took her breath away.

As if on cue, Luke appeared in the doorway. “Need a hand?”

“No.” She fluffed up the last pillow and tucked in the sheets. When she looked up, she caught the tail end of his scrutiny…and a sudden undeniable flame of heat flickering in those dark depths. But the second he realized she was looking, it was gone.

Beth straightened. “Look. I know I’m… I’ve been a bit—”

“Overzealous? Unbending?”

“Defensive. I like to be self-sufficient. And, well…” She shrugged. “You’re obviously a take-charge guy.”

The corners of his mouth kicked up. “In many things. Not all.”

If he sought to embarrass her, he was hitting the right notes. Picking up an empty cup from the desk, she turned to leave. He crowded the doorway—nasty habit of his—so she had to make a good impression of ignoring that broad chest as she brushed past. Especially ignoring those nerve endings that let up a cheer at his proximity.

“I’m going for a run,” she muttered. “Make yourself at home.”

Ten minutes later she descended the stairs dressed in a T-shirt and running shorts, her curls tucked under a worn blue cap.

With arms crossed, Luke watched her charge down the hall and slam out the front door.

Just what are you playing at, mate? First that thing in the plane, then the flirting. Now you’ve moved in. Next, you’ll be kissing, and you know where that’ll lead.

He swiped back his hair with a quick jerk. No. She had told him loud and clear she wasn’t interested. Except…he found himself wanting to believe that the surprised desire in those expressive eyes wasn’t just his imagination.

He thought about her mouth, how soft it had looked. How her skin felt, as smooth and unlined as the downy softness of a newborn. And how those mossy-green eyes had tugged at his common sense, dragging him under like a floundering swimmer at the beach.

Luke shoved those thoughts away and went to the foot of the stairs. Work and career had always been his prime objective, even before this mess. Even before he’d entertained the thought that he might make VP one day.

Before Gabrielle?

The faint twinge twisted low before he forced it away. Yeah, even before then. His brief disastrous marriage just proved his theory: you couldn’t have a demanding career and keep a relationship alive. One always had to suffer.

No, he liked his life just the way it was. And if he needed sex, he could always rely on a few willing female colleagues who were just as focused on their careers.

No-strings sex. Yep. Nothing like it.

If Luke had been looking in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs, he would’ve been surprised to see a dark scowl blooming across his face.

Now he stood in the middle of the living room, casting an eye over the spread and cataloguing the details. There were two entrances: one from the short hallway and one via the kitchen. The faint aroma of coffee lingered, mingling with some fresh lemony, floral fragrance. Sunshine streamed through the huge bay window ahead, illuminating sunflower-yellow walls, two overstuffed couches and a coffee table in the center of the room. A small TV, open fireplace, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and an exposed-beam ceiling completed the comfy look, with colorful rugs spread on polished wooden floors.

This place held nothing of Gino and everything of Beth, which made his mistress theory an even longer stretch.

Luke went over to the photos he’d noticed on a bookcase yesterday. Beth and another female grinning outside a storefront. A shot with beach scenery. And an old black-and-white studio portrait of an icy blonde with a come-hither smile.

In thoughtful silence he picked up an unusually shaped candle in a blue glass holder and sniffed.
Beth.
Quickly, he replaced it.

He’d left his high-rise Brisbane apartment—a three-bedroom homage to every technological advancement—for this. Despite his perfectly decorated rooms, the massive plasma-TV screen and the appliance-ridden kitchen he only used for entertaining clients, there’d been no soul to the place. No warmth, no garden, and now, thanks to the reporters camped on the block, no privacy.

And for the second time in his life he was in a house Uncle Gino had provided.

But you’re not fifteen anymore. Not an angry, sullen teenager torn apart by the fury of his parents’ pointless struggle and the guilt of hating them for it
.

He tilted his head and read the book titles on the shelves.
Handbook of Aromatherapy
,
The Healing Body
,
The Small Business Owner’s Guide
.
The Complete History of Cartoons
. And a bunch of sci-fi novels, their spines bent and cracked from use.

He cast another eye around the room and a vague, warm feeling settled over his shoulders. This was a home. A lived-in, occupied home. If all
his
stuff went up in smoke tomorrow, it could all be replaced by day’s end.

Disturbed, he let that uneasy feeling sit there for a second before shucking it off. It wouldn’t do any good to start getting off track. This was just a place to lay low until he met with the investigators next month. The situation would be resolved and he’d be back at work. Simple.

He wandered from living room to kitchen. He never let emotion distort his decisions, yet he’d chosen to share his space with a woman who was full of emotion, who had let an abundance of it shape and change her life. Case in point—her can’t-get-away-from-you-quick-enough dash when they’d got out the car.

He walked outside and sat on the porch swing. All around, the air was still and warm, no traffic, no urban noise to pierce the silent bubble of the perfect spring day.

Peace. Quiet. Stillness.

He breathed in deep and closed his eyes. Grass. Salty sea. The lemon tree at the end of the driveway.

Beth.

The moment stretched into a handful, until he finally opened his eyes and glanced at his phone.

Thirty minutes had gone by. Thirty minutes in which he hadn’t been making a deal or negotiating with clients or worrying about what Gino would do next to screw up his life.

Had Marco’s little psych evaluation at Gino’s funeral been right?
“You care too much about what’s past and what you can’t change, Luke. You hold a grudge for way too long. Take it from someone who’s been there—you’re on the fast track for a spectacular crash if you don’t slow the hell down.”

And as he delved into the waters of self-doubt, he didn’t like what he saw.

With a soft sigh, he reached for his phone and started to make the first of a handful of calls.

Beth didn’t run because she enjoyed it, although sometimes she actually did. She ran because exercise effectively cleared her head like nothing else. And today, she needed the clarity of movement, the pure and honest motion of running.

Even though the afternoon heat embraced her like an exuberant relative’s hug, she picked up the pace. She ran all the way to the end of the street then turned east. Trees flashed by; she noted her progress by counting the cats’ eyes hammered onto the white guideposts flanking the road. When she got to the small park with the duck lake, she pounded over the footbridge. The sun sparkled off the water in blinding shafts, the air hummed with the noise of the distant highway. Eventually all she could hear was her heaving lungs.

Nearly an hour later, when she finally turned back, her whole body ached from exertion. Sweat pooled in the small of her back, her scalp itched, her T-shirt clung and her legs sang. But the effort had been worth it. Her thoughts had been Luke free.

She got to the top of her street and stopped long enough to stretch her hamstrings, then continued at a brisk walk before pausing at the end of the driveway.

The lawn edges needed trimming. The orange trees were begging for a good prune, too. The porch also had to be swept and that second step was in sore need of a nail or two.

She breathed in a deep sigh, reveling in the warm, perfect stillness of the day. After drifting from one impersonal crowded city to another, this was heaven on earth. Solitude and independence had brought that to her life.

A breeze interrupted the air, tickling along her damp skin.

She loved this place. Giving up and walking away would be like wrenching off a vital piece of herself. It would be like erasing every good memory she had made these last ten years.

If Luke wanted to do that, he was in for a fight.

Determination added steel to her step as she walked in the front door. She didn’t have much time on her side, but Luke was obviously not a patient man. After a week or two, he’d get sick of waiting and take her up on her offer. They’d agree on a price, sign on it, and she’d eventually work off her debt.

She
was extremely good at waiting.

“Hey.”

Beth jumped as Luke appeared from the kitchen. “Can’t you make some noise instead of sneaking around?” At his look, she sighed. “What?”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “We need to talk.”

Beth’s flushed face suddenly felt like a thousand burning knives. “I have to shower first. I’ll be down in fifteen.”

“If you’re not, I’m coming up to get you.”

Beth turned and practically ran up the stairs. He wouldn’t dare barge into her bathroom. Would he?