Genuine Lies

scheduled trip to Georgia, Peter Jackson’s buns, Brandon’s upcoming test in social studies, and Julia’s semiannual urge to whack off her hair. Eve had talked her out of it.
    Blowing out a long breath, she dropped into the chair.
    “Gloria, seemed to think I was going to write something that threatened her reputation. She even offered to pay me off—though I think she’d have preferred to kill me off.” When his eyes narrowed, she groaned. “For God’s sake, Paul, I was being sarcastic.” Then she laughed and leaned back, setting the chair rocking. “I can see you writing the scene now. Gloria DuBarry, dressed in the nun’s habit she wore in
McReedy’s Little Devils
, creeps up behind the intrepid biographer. I hopeyou put me in something scant and slinky after all these hours I’ve spent toning up the bod. She hefts a knife—no, too messy. Pulls a .22—no, too ordinary. Ah, she lunges forward and strangles her victim with her rosary beads.” Steepling her fingers, she grinned over them. “How’s that?”
    “Not nearly as funny as you’d like it to be.” He set the crystal aside. “Julia, I want you to let me listen to the tapes.”
    The chair snapped back. “You know I can’t do that.”
    “I want to help you.”
    There was such strained patience in his voice, she couldn’t resist reaching out to touch her hand to his. “I appreciate the offer, Paul, but I don’t think I need any help.”
    He looked down to where her hand lay slender, delicate, on his. “If you did, would you tell me?”
    Because she wanted to be sure to tell them both the truth, she waited a moment. “Yes.” Then she smiled, realizing it wasn’t so difficult, or so risky, to trust someone. “Yes, I would.”
    “At least I have an answer.” He turned his hand over, gripping hers before she could pull away. “If you thought Eve needed help?”
    This time there was no hesitation. “You’d be the first one I’d tell.”
    Satisfied, he put that part of the problem aside as he would a plot device needing time to brew. “Now I want to ask you something else.”
    Figuring the hard part was over, she relaxed. “And I keep thinking I’m going to get the interview.”
    “You’ll get your turn. Do you believe I care about you?”
    She couldn’t say the question came out of left field, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle the ball. “Right now I do.”
    The simple sentence told him much more than a yes or no. “Has everything in your life been so temporary?”
    His hand was much too firm on hers, the palm rougher than was expected of a man who worked with words. While she could have resisted the hold, she couldn’t resist his eyes. Ifit was impossible to lie to Fritz, it was useless to lie to Paul. Those eyes would see right through to the truth.
    “I suppose, except for Brandon, it has.”
    “Is that the way you want it?” he asked, uneasy that it was so important he know.
    “I haven’t really thought about it.” She rose, hoping to back away from an edge that seemed to be sneaking closer while she wasn’t looking. “I haven’t had to.”
    “Now you do.” He cupped her face with his free hand. “And I believe it’s time I did something to make you start thinking about it.”
    He kissed her, much as he had the last time, with too much passion, traces of anger, hints of frustration. He tugged her closer, continuing the rapid, reckless assault on her senses. To his pleasure he could feel, actually feel her skin warming as the blood raced close to the surface. Unbearably arousing was the faint taste of panic as her mouth opened for his.
    He caged her hips between his thighs, his teeth nipping, nibbling at her lips, his tongue stroking between them! She heard her own groan of pleasure as he slipped his hands under her shirt to run them up and down her spine.
    Her skin was going hot, then cold, shivering and sweating under his touch. But the fear was passing, too weak an emotion to compete with all the others he forced into her. Needs, so long ignored, rose up like a tidal wave to wash everything away. Everything but him.
    She seemed to be floating, clinging to him as she glided inches above the floor. She could imagine herself drifting endlessly like this, steeped in sensation, weak—weak enough to be guided by someone else.
    When he dipped his head to slick those hot kisses along her throat, she saw that she wasn’t floating at all, but being led slowly out of the office, into the living