Genuine Lies

bit under the weather. I’m stag tonight.” He held up a glass full of clear liquid and sighed. “Club soda and I tell you, these affairs are hell to get through without a couple of belts. What do you think of the gathering, Miss Summers?”
    “It’s too soon to tell.”
    “Diplomatic.” Eve had told him as much. “I’ll ask you again in a couple of hours. Christ knows what they’ll serve. Too much to hope it’ll be steak and potatoes. Can’t stand that damn French stuff.” He caught the understanding glint in Julia’s eyes and grinned. “You can take the peasant out of Ireland, but you can’t take the Irish out of the peasant.” He winked at Julia. “I’ll be by to claim a dance.”
    “I’d be delighted.”
    “Impressions?” Paul asked when Victor wandered off.
    “So often an actor seems smaller offscreen. He only seems bigger. At the same time, I think I’d feel comfortable sitting in front of a fire with him playing canasta.”
    “You have excellent powers of observation.” He put a finger on the side of her jaw to move her face to his. “And you’ve stopped being angry.”
    “No, I haven’t. I’m saving it.”
    He laughed and this time swung a friendly arm around her shoulder. “Christ, Jules, I’m beginning to like you. Let’s find our table. Maybe we’ll eat before ten.”
    “Goddammit, Drake, I detest being nagged.” Eve’s voice was impatient as she took her seat at the table, but her face was placid. She didn’t choose to have the rumormongers muttering over the fact that she was sniping with her press agent.
    “I wouldn’t have to nag if you’d give me a straight answer.” Unlike his aunt, Drake was no actor and scowled into his drink. “How am I supposed to promote something when you won’t give me anything to go on?”
    “There’s nothing to promote at this point.” She lifted a hand in salute to familiar faces at an adjoining table and shot a smile at Nina, who was laughing with a group in the center of the room. “In any case, if people know what’s going to be in the book, there won’t be any anticipation—or sweaty palms.” Just thinking of it made her smile, and mean it. “Concentrate on pumping up this project I’m doing for television.”
    “The miniseries.”
    She winced at the word—she couldn’t help it. “Just spread the news that Eve Benedict is doing a television
event”
“It’s my job to—”
    “To do as I tell you,” she finished. “Keep that in mind.” Impatient, she finished off her champagne. “Get me another glass.”
    With an effort, he controlled a flurry of sharp words. He, too, knew the value of public image. Just as he knew the killing edge of Eve’s temper. Seething, he rose, then spotted Julia and Paul crossing the ballroom. Julia, he thought, and his eyes cleared of resentment. He would get the information Delrickio had requested. She was the source he could tap.
    “Ah, here you are.” Eve lifted both hands. Julia took them, felt the slight tug and realized she was expected to lean over and kiss Eve’s cheek. Feeling more than a little foolish,she complied. “And Paul.” Well aware curious eyes had turned their way, Eve repeated the ceremony with her former stepson. “What a staggering couple you two make.” She shot a glance over her shoulder. “Drake, make sure we all have more champagne.”
    Glancing up, Julia caught the tightening of his lips, the quick and lethal glint in his eye. Then it was replaced by a dazzling smile. “Nice to see you, Paul. Julia, you look lovely. Just hang on while I play waiter.”
    “You do look lovely,” Eve said. “Has Paul been introducing you around?”
    “I didn’t see much need for it.” Settling back, Paul scanned the room. “Once they see she’s sitting with you, they’ll figure it out and introduce themselves.”
    He was exactly right. Before Drake returned with the wine, people began to trickle over. All through dinner, Eve sat like a queen granting audience as other luminaries table-hopped, always making their way to her throne. As crème brulée was served, a thin-haired, amazingly fat man waddled over.
    Anthony Kincade, Eve’s second husband, had not weathered well. In the past two decades he had put on so much weight that he resembled an unsteady mountain crammed into a tux. Each wheezing breath caused an avalanche of flab to jiggle over his stomach. The journey across the room had turned his face the bright pink of a two-day sunburn. Jowls