Read Online Sweet Liar by Jude Deveraux - Free Book Online Page B

Samantha’s arrival. Now, he had correctly guessed that every bottle would still be there. She may have problems, he thought as he looked in the safe and saw every bottle he’d put in there still sealed, but she was no drinker. Opening the bottle, knowing exactly where the corkscrew was, he took the wine back to her bedroom and poured two glasses full, frowning at the look on her face. “This is not a prelude to a seduction, so you can stop looking at me as though I’m a satyr. Drink it or not, your choice. I’m sure that someone as uptight as you is probably too prudish to do something so wild as drink a glass of wine.”
    Curling her upper lip at him in a sneer of what she hoped looked like contempt, she took the glass, drained it, then handed it back to him for a refill.
    Mike laughed. “A real sailor, are you? Any tattoos?”
    Samantha didn’t bother to answer him, but she wished she hadn’t drunk the wine. She had not eaten very much, and the wine was already going to her head, yet she desperately needed to be alert right now, not fuzzy-headed and relaxed as the wine was making her feel. “Not any tattoos I’m going to show you,” she heard herself say, then grimaced, for she had always been the very easiest of drunks. Half a glass of wine and she was dancing on tables—or at least thinking about dancing. It was something about her that had always disgusted Richard, but he had managed to cope with the problem. As always, he figured out a solution to all of Samantha’s “problems”: Because she had no head for drinking, he didn’t allow her to drink.
    Looking down at the tray across her legs as he lifted the cover, she saw a fat, succulent steak smothered in sauce. “I don’t eat meat,” she said, looking away.
    â€œWhy not? You don’t like it?”
    â€œWhere have you been for the last century? Haven’t you read the reports on meat? Fat content. Hardening of the arteries. Cholesterol. No fiber.”
    â€œIs that all? The air’s worse for you than any steak. Eat it, Sam.”
    â€œMy name is Samantha, not—” She didn’t say any more because he shoved a piece of meat into her mouth. When she chewed, she found the flavor to be divine, really truly divine. Continuing to chew, she remembered that she had first given up meat as a way to cut down on their grocery bill.
    â€œHated that, didn’t you?” he said smugly, watching her.
    She ignored his comment. “I thought you wanted me to listen to you. Would you say what you have to say, then get out of here?” Cutting another bite of steak, he started to feed it to her as though she were a child or, perhaps, as though they were on far more intimate terms than they were, so she took the fork from his hand and fed herself. He didn’t seem to notice the look she gave him when he picked up her salad fork and began helping himself to part of the steak. Samantha tried not to think of the scene: her sitting at the head of the bed, him sprawled across the middle, his head near her knees as they both ate from the same plate.
    â€œEver hear of Larry Leonard?”
    â€œYet another person we do not have in common,” she said jauntily, pointing her fork at him. She definitely should not have drunk that glass of wine.
    â€œLarry Leonard is—was—a writer of murder mysteries. He didn’t write very many of them and they didn’t sell well, but they received some critical acclaim because they were so well researched. All of them were about gangsters.”
    Her mouth was full of steak and she kept sipping on the second glass of wine. “The two of you should have gotten along splendidly as that’s all you read about.” As soon as she said it, she blushed.
    Mike grinned knowingly. “Been snooping, have you? By the way, thanks for putting my clothes away the day Tammy had to leave.”
    Samantha looked down at her plate