Genuine Lies

countryside. Salmon from Alaska, lobster from Maine. And I believe the artichoke hearts were imported from Spain.”
    “We have much more than that. Do you see that man? The frail-looking one with thin white hair. He’s leaning on a cane and attended by a redhead who’s built like a—”
    “Yes, I see him.”
    “Michael Torrent.”
    “Torrent?” Julia took a step forward to get a better look. “But I thought he’d retired to the Riviera. I’ve been trying to contact him for a month to set up an interview.”
    Experimentally, Paul traced a fingertip down her spine, pleased when he felt her quick tremor. “I like your bare back almost as much as your bare feet.”
    She would not be distracted—even if he’d lit a line of fire down her spine. She eased a cautious inch away. His mouth quirked. “We were talking about Torrent,” she said. “Why do you suppose he’d come all this way for free food and champagne?”
    “Obviously he thought an invitation to this particular party was worth a trip. And there?”
    Before she could tell Paul to stop playing with her fingers, she focused on the man he was watching. “I know Anthony Kincade is here. I don’t understand why Eve invited him.”
    “If you don’t, you should.”
    “Well, two of her husbands—”
    “Three,” Paul corrected her. “Damien Priest just stepped onto the terrace.”
    Julia recognized him instantly. Though he was the only one of Eve’s husbands who hadn’t been in films, he was a celebrity in his own right. Before his retirement at thirty-five, Priest had been one of the top money winners in professional tennis. A Wimbledon champion, he had also racked up wins in all the other Grand Slam tourneys.
    Tall and rangy, Priest had a long reach and a wicked backhand. He had a gut-slamming sexuality a woman noticed instantly. Seeing him now, with his arm tucked around the waist of a young woman, Julia understood why Eve had married him.
    His marriage to Eve had generated acres of print. He had been nearly twenty years her junior when they had eloped to Las Vegas. Though their marriage had lasted only one tumultuous year, it had given the tabloids fodder for months after.
    “Three out of four,” Julia murmured, wondering how she could work it to her advantage. “Your father?”
    “Sorry. Not even this could tear him away from a performance of
Lear.”
Paul sampled the champagne and thought how much he’d have liked to sample the taste of Julia’s long, smooth back. “Though I am under orders to report anything of interest.”
    “Hopefully there will be.”
    “Don’t borrow trouble.” He laid a hand on her arm. “Other than the husbands, I could point out any number of ex-lovers, old rivals, and displeased friends.”
    “I wish you would.”
    He only shook his head. “There are also plenty of people here who would probably be very happy to see this entire book business disappear.”
    Irritation sparkled in her eyes. “Including you.”
    “Yes. I’ve had a long time to think about you having someone break in and go through your work. Maybe it was just idle curiosity, but I doubt it. I told you from the beginning I didn’t want Eve hurt. I don’t want you hurt either.”
    “We’re both big girls, Paul. If it helps ease your mind, I can tell you that what Eve has told me so far is sensitive, certainly personal, perhaps uncomfortable for certain people. I really don’t think any of it could be considered threatening.”
    “She isn’t finished yet. And she—” Even as his eyes narrowed, his fingers tightened on the stem of the glass.
    “What is it?”
    “Another of Eve’s Michaels.” His voice had cooled, but it was nothing compared to the ice in his eyes. She wondered the air around them didn’t crackle. “Delrickio.”
    “Michael Delrickio?” Julia tried to pick out the man Paul was staring at. “Should I know him?”
    “No. And if you’re lucky, you’ll live the rest of your life without knowing him.”
    “Why?” As she asked, she recognized the man she had seen come out of Drake’s office. “Is he that distinguished-looking man with silver hair and a mustache?”
    “Looks can be deceiving.” Paul passed her his half-full glass of wine. “Excuse me.”
    Ignoring the people who called his name or reached out tolay a hand on his arm, Paul made a direct line for Delrickio. It might have been the expression in his eyes or the barely suppressed fury in his stride that had several backing off—and the