Lie to Me (25 page)

“Four. Three.” It was going to be close. “Two.”

Luc squeezed the trigger an instant before the voice said “One.” A red beam shot from his laser, hitting the panel dead center. Chloe shrieked as the panel emitted an explosion of sound and light. His gun beeped, letting him know he’d gained the bonus power of rapid fire. The others heard it and tried to dive for cover as he opened fire, blasting away with the speed of a machine gun. Vests lit up all over as Zeke, Martin, Farrell, and Bobby clutched their chests. They screamed dramatically, their bodies jerking and spinning as they fell to the floor, all of them “dead.”

Since the game’s central control had been set up to detect when only one combatant remained alive, the pulsing music subsided as the search lights went off and regular lights came on. With his heart beating as hard from adrenaline as the unexpected appearance of Chloe, Luc looked down and saw her standing with her hands still over her ears, her body curled into itself to make her the smallest target possible.
 

He watched as she opened her eyes and uncovered her ears. Sensing no danger, she cautiously straightened to look around while his team of coders picked themselves up off the floor.
 

“Awesome game!”

“Punk, I killed you like three times.”

“Look at the score I racked up.”

“Yeah, but you better watch your back next time.”

Their post-game chatter barely registered as he watched Chloe. Looking disoriented, she finally glanced up at him. Longing ripped through him at the sight of uncertainty in her eyes.
 

What was she doing here?

“Dude!” Martin called up to him. “Let’s go again. I need to extract some revenge from Farrell the Traitor.”

Luc pulled his gaze away from Chloe long enough to address his motley gang of die-hard gamers. “Actually, now that I have reasserted myself as supreme ruler of the universe, I think it’s time you peons got back to work.”

With a great deal of fake grumbling, they began removing their vests.

“Zeke,” he called to his head coder. “Send our guest up.”

“As you command!” Zeke thumped his chest with a fist, then shot his arm out straight in a salute.
 

Chloe blinked as Luc turned and disappeared from sight.

The tall, blond scarecrow of a guy who had answered the door turned to her with a crooked grin as he hunched over, curling his shoulders. “Walk this way,” he said in an odd voice as he shuffled away from her, dragging one foot.

She frowned in confusion.

“What?” He straightened. “You’ve never seen
Young Frankenstein
?”

“I’m sorry, no.”

Sighing in disappointment, he motioned for her to follow him to an open, cage-style elevator. Once she entered, he reached in and punched a button. “You’ll find the master on the third floor.”

He stepped back as the doors closed, leaving her alone in the elevator. As the cage lifted, she could finally take in the space. Drawing level with the second floor, she saw a wide, open area, like a hotel mezzanine, with a lounge area in the middle and arcade games lining the walls. Down a corridor lined with movie posters, she saw a sign that said Theater.

Luc hadn’t exaggerated. He really had turned a warehouse into a gamers’ paradise.

So why did it feel as if she were entering a dragon’s lair?

Chapter 16

Chloe’s stomach knotted as she approached an open door on the third floor. She expected to find an office with Luc sitting at a desk. Instead, as she peered through the opening, she saw an apartment. The sitting area to the right screamed bachelor pad, but a bachelor with incredible taste.

Deep blue walls would have made the space too dark, but mood lighting throughout gave it the feel of a sophisticated cave. The two recliners and sofa that faced a massive, wall-mounted TV may have been brown leather, a typical bachelor choice, but the sleek lines kept them modern rather than clichéd.
 

The art, though, caught her attention more than the furnishings. Several large pieces of computer-generated images had been sandwiched between sheets of glass so they floated off the walls. The images depicted what had to be the worlds of Vortal, a castle in a lush forest, a ship riding the crest of a wave on a moonlit sea, a dark street in New Orleans where danger seemed to lurk in every shadow.
 

The sound of ice dropping into a glass from an automatic dispenser drew her attention to the left. Luc stood with his back to her in a kitchenette done mostly in more shades of dark blue with under-cabinet lights washing down a backsplash of glass tiles. He’d removed the short-sleeved shirt he’d worn earlier and now had on only a black T-shirt and jeans. They both fit his well-toned body perfectly, bringing back memories of her hands running over his warm skin and defined muscles. Heat washed through her, followed by longing.
 

Without turning to face her, he opened one of the glass-fronted cabinets and took down a bottle of bourbon.
 

As he poured a generous amount into the glass of ice, some of the amber liquid splashed out, onto the counter. He set the bottle down, braced both hands on the counter, and let his head drop forward.

“May I come in?” she asked.

Luc sucked in a slow breath to steady himself. He was shaking, damn it. Actually shaking. He just couldn’t tell if the tremors came from hope or anger. He’d spent every day since leaving Pearl Island torn between calling Chloe to somehow make things right, and being so furious over what she’d done he never wanted to see her again.

And now, she was here. Suddenly here.

“Sure,” he said, as casually as possible. Scooping up the glass, he turned to face her. The sight of her standing in the doorway to his apartment, backlit by the brighter light beyond, took his breath away. How was it possible for her to be more beautiful than he remembered? Had his brain diminished her in his memory out of self-preservation? It came rushing back now, though: the laughter, the spontaneity, the sense of rightness he felt being with her.

God, he wanted to touch her, hold her, kiss her.

Her gaze dropped to his chest, and he remembered what he was wearing. A damned T-shirt that said
Gaming ruined my life. Thankfully I have two more
.
 

His jaw tightened as he waited for any sign of derision, but her face remained blank. Remembering that she’d never mocked him for being a gamer, he relaxed a fraction. “Can I get you anything?”

“I wouldn’t mind some of what you’re having.” She released a nervous little laugh, one meant to break the ice, he supposed. Could she be caught in her own battle of mixed emotions?

Rather than ask, he set about getting a second glass and filling it with ice. He felt her moving closer and his body tensed, not in fear, but in anticipation. Had she come to apologize? Was it possible they could put what had happened aside? He imagined them coming together in a rush of words, begging and giving forgiveness as they embraced, their mouths seeking and finding solace. And passion.

“You have a nice place,” she said quietly.
 

He started to tell her he’d hired a decorator. No way could he have pulled together a place like this. He couldn’t even dress himself without an app.
 

“Thanks,” he said instead. She didn’t need to know about his ineptness at buying furniture, especially not after walking in on him and the guys, all consummate geeks, right in the middle of a laser battle.
Great
, he thought.
Friggin’ brilliant!
All his efforts to present himself to her as a cool, together guy undone in an instant.

Except, back on Pearl Island Chloe had seemed fascinated, even turned on, by the very things he tried to hide. He didn’t understand that. Willing himself to keep his confusion hidden, he handed her the drink he’d poured. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She took a tiny sip, and choked.

“Did you want some cola with that?”
Idiot
, he thought.
You didn’t even offer to put water in it.

“No,” she gasped. “I’m good.”

He studied her as his mind whirled with a hundred scenarios, until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Chloe,” he finally said in complete bafflement, “what are you doing here?”

With her eyes downcast, she took a breath. Then her lashes lifted and her incredible eyes looked straight into his. “I came to talk about what happened. Calmly this time, if that’s possible.”

When she didn’t say she’d come to apologize, his jaw hardened. “You mean talk about you destroying my sketchpad.”

“I didn’t,” she insisted. “I told you I only meant to throw it down. You bumped into me.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “It’s all my fault it went flying into the cove.”

“Actually, no.” Her brows drew together. “If AJ is to be believed, Captain Jack is responsible.”

“If AJ is to be believed?” he said incredulously.

“You said you believe in ghosts.”

“I do. I just think it’s kind of convenient that you can blame a ghost for what you did.”

“I didn’t throw it. I swear to you. I was upset, but I wouldn’t have thrown something like that into the water.”

“Are you even sorry it happened?”

“I am,” she said with obvious sincerity. “I’m sorry for so many reasons.” She dropped her gaze. “You’re a very talented artist and I know what the sketchpad meant to you.”

He frowned since it was the last thing he expected. “It was my drawings that set you off.”

“Because you drew me as a sex object.” Her gaze snapped back up.
 

“I drew you as a warrior,” he countered.

“With enormous boobs!”

“Because I was a teenager with sex on the brain,” he shot back. “Guys fantasize, okay? Does the fact that I let it spill into my drawings really make it worse?”

“Yes! Because you put me in your game looking like that.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You said you did.” She frowned as if trying to remember exactly what he’d said. “Maybe you didn’t use my face, but you used me.”

“Chloe,
you
aren’t in the game. What I put in the game are the types of strong, confident women you inspired. It’s not an insult. If anything, it’s a compliment. If you played Vortal, you’d see that.”

“You wouldn’t let me play, remember?” She squared her shoulders.

He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. How could he convince her he wasn’t the bad guy here? “Do you know why I had a crush on you in school?”

She frowned as if caught off guard by the question.

“Because you had an attitude that said you could take care of yourself. So many of the girls acted as if the only thing they cared about was having a boyfriend. They put so much energy into makeup and clothes designed to drive boys crazy. You weren’t like that.” He saw her eyes narrow, as if she was really listening, so he pushed on. “You acted as if you were equal to any boy in school, and so they treated you that way. I admired you for that. Hell, I was in awe of you for it. When I fantasized about you, I was fantasizing about being with someone I respected.”
 

He didn’t add that in all those fantasies he’d always been Blade, because he couldn’t imagine Chloe wanting to be with the real him. Except she had wanted to be with him on Pearl Island. And dear God, he wanted that back.

A conflicted longing that matched his own filled her eyes. “I want to believe you.”

“Why is it so hard?” He fought the urge to touch her.

“Because of the way most boys, and men, act,” she said softly, without heat.

“You already know I’m not like the boys you were friends with in school. Maybe I’m not like the other men you’ve known either.”

“I think you might be different.” She leaned toward him almost imperceptibly, but he felt it. “How can I be sure, though?”

“I don’t know,” he said, longing to hold her but at a loss for what to say, what to do to make that happen. “Spend time with me?”

“You’re willing to do that?” The space between them seemed to shrink.

He started to say yes and pull her into his arms, surprised that fury over the destruction of his sketchpad didn’t swamp him. What if she was telling the truth, and she really hadn’t thrown it? Maybe it had been the storm, a ghost, or his colliding with her that had sent the pad flying. Unfortunately, whatever the truth, that moment had seriously damaged his chances of winning his claim with the Historical Commission. “Are you willing to help me get my grandmother’s necklace back?”

She exhaled, drawing back. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” He scowled. “All you have to do is make a statement to my lawyer saying you saw the drawing in the sketchpad and it matched the necklace exactly. Having you support my claim could go a long way.”

“Couldn’t anyone on your team give the same testimony?”

“No.” He scowled at the question. “I never showed that sketchpad to anyone but you.”

“You didn’t?” She blinked in surprise.

“Of course not.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You thought other people saw those drawings?”