Genuine Lies

again. The theater’s dark tomorrow. Perhaps we could continue this over dinner.”
    “I’d like that, if it wouldn’t interfere with your plans.”
    “Julia, a man’s plans are meant to be changed for a beautiful woman.” He lifted his hand to her lips. Julia was smiling at him when the sitting room doors opened.
    “Smooth as ever, I see,” Paul commented.
    Rory kept Julia’s tensed hand in his as he turned to his son. “Paul, what a delightful and ill-timed surprise. I don’t have to ask what brings you.”
    Paul kept his eyes on Julia’s. “No, you don’t. Isn’t there a matinee today?”
    “Indeed there is.” Rory stiffled a laugh. It was the first time he’d seen that reckless hunger in his son’s eyes. “I was just taking my leave of this charming lady. Now, I believe I’ll have to pull rank and secure two tickets for tonight’s performance. It would please me very much if you’d attend.”
    “Thank you. I—”
    “We’ll be there,” Paul interrupted.
    “Excellent. I’ll have them delivered to your hotel, Julia. Now I’ll leave you in what I’m sure are very capable hands.” He started out, pausing beside his son. “At last you’ve given me the opportunity to say you have faultless taste. If it wasn’t for Lily, old boy, I’d give you a hell of a run for her.”
    Paul’s lips quirked, but when his father made his exit, the smile disappeared as well. “Don’t you think traveling to London is a rather elaborate way to avoid me?”
    “I’m doing my job.” All nerves and annoyance, shepicked up her briefcase. “Don’t you think following me to London is a rather elaborate way to hold this conversation?”
    “Inconvenient
would be my word.” He crossed the room with the kind of economic grace that reminded Julia of an expert hunter who’d caught the scent. Skirting the chair, he stopped to stand with her in front of the fire. It sizzled through a log and shot out a rain of angry sparks. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to see my father?”
    His words were as measured as his steps had been, she noted. Slow and patient. As a result, hers came out too quickly.
    “It didn’t seem necessary to tell you my plans.” “You’re wrong.”
    “I see no reason to check with you.”
    “Then I’ll give you one.” He pulled her against him, crushing her mouth, jumbling her senses. The move was so violent, so unexpected, she didn’t have time to protest. She managed, barely, to draw in a breath.
    “That’s not a—”
    He covered her mouth again, cutting off her words, clouding her thoughts. On a throaty moan, she dropped the briefcase to hold him closer. In that instant when rational thought was overtaken by the senses, she gave him everything.
    “Am I making myself clear enough?”
    “Shut up,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just shut up.”
    He closed his eyes, outrageously moved by the way she rested her head on his shoulder. The gesture, the catchy little sigh she made, had him wanting to carry her off somewhere safe and quiet. “You worry me, Julia.”
    “Because I came to London?”
    “No, because I came after you.” He drew her back. He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “You’re at the Savoy?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then let’s go. I’d hate for one of my father’s servants to walk in while I’m making love with you.”
    •   •   •
    The bed felt safe. The room was quiet. Her body was as fluid, as intoxicating as wine under his. Each shudder, each sigh he eased from her had his blood swimming faster. He’d kept the curtains wide when she would have closed them, to give himself the pleasure of watching her face in the thin winter sunlight.
    He hadn’t known there could be so much pleasure. It had surrounded him as he’d carefully, slowly, stripped her of the tidy business suit she wore, found the slither of silk beneath. It had pounded through him as he’d peeled that silk away, inch by erotic inch. She was there, delicate, mysterious, arousing, yielding with a sigh when he’d lowered her to the bed.
    Now she was with him, slick, damp skin sliding over his, her breath trembling in his ear, her hands gentle, then greedy, then desperate. He could feel the needs vibrate from her, feel the wild excitement as he satisfied them one by one.
    It was she who altered the pace, she who whipped up the speed until they were rolling over the bed in tangled, turbulent, titanic passion.
    The bed was no longer safe, but