Hooked

Like the particulars of her past, Lincoln Walsh didn’t need to know. Maybe some day she’d tell him. Maybe not.
    Walsh reached across the table and took her hand. “What about you? You’re back in the city. What are your plans?”
    “I’ve got a job with the museum, and not as a docent. I applied for a job as assistant curator for the classical wing, and they hired me. I start in April.”
    “Hey, that’s terrific,” Walsh said. “So you’ll be around awhile.”
    “No plans of leaving again.” She drained her coffee and poured some more. “What about us?” She raised her gaze to meet his. This time neither looked away.
    The wide grin of moments before softened, and his expression became thoughtful. “That night, when you laid it out for me―you know, about what you were and that I’d have to come to terms with it if we had something real. I gave it a lot of thought. How would I react if we were out to dinner and ran into someone you slept with?”
    “How would you react?” Tawny felt her heart thumping. Everything was coming down to this moment, to his answer. She lifted the mug to her lips and her hand shook. Liquid sloshed inside the cup.
    “I’d watch the man and know he was thinking―that I was the luckiest guy on earth.”
    She tri ed to smile, but all she wanted to do was cry. She hated blubbering women, had never been one. But damn, that’s what she felt like doing. She breathed in and swallowed the sobs by sheer force of will. “That’s about the best answer you could have given.” She placed the mug down. “So where do we go from here? Help me, Walsh. I’m new at this relationship stuff.”
    “I’m kind of a novice myself, but I guess we start at the beginning, like all relationships―with a date. What are you doing for lunch? I know a great vegetarian restaurant not far from here. They even have tofu jerky.”
    Tawny broke up. She hadn’t laughed fo r so long she’d forgotten what joy sounded like. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me, but I couldn’t stay away.”
    He got up and pulled her to him. “I almost gave up hope you’d come back to fill that empty place in me with your name on it.” He kissed her, running his fingers through her hair.
    Tawny felt warm inside, her own empty spaces filling so full they were going to spill over. “I’m glad I came back too. After all, you saved my life. Doesn’t that kinda make me yours?”
    He tilted his head in contemplation. “Yeah, I guess it does. No more running away, Tawny Dell. We’re in this together from now on.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

    Polly Iyer was born on the coast of Massachusetts. After studying at Massachusetts College of Art and Design in Boston , she lived in Italy , Atlanta , and now resides in the beautiful Piedmont region of South Carolina in an empty nest house with her husband and family pets. Writing novels turned into her passion after careers in fashion, art, and business. Now she spends her time being quite the hermit in comfortable clothes she wouldn't be caught dead wearing on the outside, while she devises ways for life to be complicated for her characters. Better them than her.

    Learn more about Polly and her books at
    www.PollyIyer.com

    Read an excerpt from Mind Games
    on the next page



Chapter One
    The Performance

    D iana Racine, Fraud of the Century

    That was the headline in the morning’s Times-Picayune . She’d heard the accusation since she was a child. Charlatan in Miami, carny huckster in Detroit, and a dangerous witch in Boston. Others had called her a hustler, schemer, faker, pretender, gypsy, quack, phony, and scamster. That last was from Vegas. Totally biased reporting there.
    They were all right. She was a fraud. And a damn good one too. A thirty-three-year old, five-foot-two bundle of fraud.
    To a point.
    Well here I am, people of New Orleans. Judge for yourselves.
    She peeked around the curtain at the filled-to-capacity crowd, blew a curl off her forehead, and smoothed her skirt. After massaging her neck to loosen the tight muscles, she drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. They’re just people, Diana. You’ve done this a thousand times before. She stepped onto the stage to the welcome sound of applause.
    After a few minutes of waves, smiles, and some audience banter that passed for warm-up, she picked out a cute guy in the first row. “What about you, handsome? Are you ready to be spooked?” She bent down closer to him and dropped her voice into her sexiest