Read Online Surprise Package by Shirl Henke - Free Book Online

you can name your firstborn after Bill or me.”
           “If only it was that easy, Charis.”
           “Read my lips and repeat after me: ‘Jeff, I'm not an editor at FS&G. I edit historical romances.’ See? It's not that difficult. If you confess the reasons you've always felt you needed to reinvent yourself—the real reasons, Gilly—this guy will understand. If he doesn't, he's a jerk and you're well rid of him. But if he's half the brilliant, sensitive, witty, charming, sexy gift to our gender you say he is, there's no way he won't come through for you.”
           Gilly hesitated. “I don't know, Charis. It isn't so simple. Why should I lay myself bare when he's keeping secrets, too? What the hell is he doing when he breaks all those dates with me?”
           “I thought you established that Karl isn't Karla and that Jeff is a bona-fide law student at NYU with parents living in Scarsdale.”
           “Yes...but why all this mystery and the made-up excuses? I did some more checking. Professor Anderson did leave on sabbatical the week before Jeff said they were meeting to discuss the bar. He lied to me, Charis.”
           Her friend wore a troubled expression now, all traces of her earlier good humor gone. “It doesn't look good, does it? There's only one way to find out. You have to take the bull by the horns and ask him—but first you need to 'fess up yourself. No better time than when his guard is down. And you in that dress should sure do the trick.”
           In spite of Charis' words, the lovely gown seemed to lose its allure as Gilly stood looking at her reflection in the mirrors. “You're right. Tomorrow has to be the moment of truth.”
     
    * * * *
     
           Gilly put the finishing touches on her makeup, dusting sparkling powder across the bridge of her nose to hide her freckles. Were they still visible? She squinted into the small mirror on her dressing table. It was as dingy and cramped as everything else in the apartment. Jeff and Karl's place had a sort of Washington Square ambience about it, with Guggenheim prints on the walls, law books scattered on the coffee table, and multicolored beads partitioning the kitchenette from the living room.
           “The only ‘ambience’ in this dump is the rhythmic clunk of the water pipes,” she muttered as the kitchen sink gave another ominous gurgle. What would he think of it? Of her, for leading him to believe she lived in the lap of luxury? But she'd spent the last few days thinking things through and finally reached the decision that, for good or ill, she would tell Jeff the whole truth about her life. The deception was getting more and more complicated, the lies multiplying. How had she let things get so out of hand? Here she was, really gone on this guy, and the whole relationship was built on sand—with the tide rushing in.
           Her guts were knotted tighter than old Mrs. Kleinschmidt's fists. As if she didn't have enough on her mind, the hateful super had left a note in her mailbox saying that starting next month, rent would no longer include heat. It seemed that some tenants were “abusing their privileges.” Yeah, by renting out their bedrooms as meat lockers. Still, it was the least expensive place she'd been able to find in any neighborhood that was safe for a lone female.
           Maybe she could fix up the joint before Jeff saw it. A little paint, a few bright scatter rugs over the worn carpet. She could even dig out those neat posters she'd saved from her stint working in that travel agency and hang them on the walls. The idea cheered her for a bit as she stood and began to slip into the dress. Buying it had maxed out her BG charge, not to mention the Ferragamo heels and matching bag she had splurged on to complete the ensemble. Charis had pronounced it “off the Richter scale” when they finished shopping.
           Gilly glanced at the clock. The Lawrences were