Читать книгу The Good Liar - Laura Caldwell, Leslie S. Klinger - Страница 14

A few hours later, after most of the wine had been drunk and the bride and groom had waved goodbye, Roger Leiland approached the bar and the one person he’d wanted to talk to all night.

She stood with her back to him, one strap of her pink dress falling over a lightly freckled shoulder. Roger felt himself stirring, turned on by the sight of her. But that wasn’t the only reason he wanted to talk.

There were only a few people left at the pub. Kate’s brothers and their wives were tucked in at the end of the bar, completely blotto and shrieking with laughter. At one of the tables, Michael’s contractor from the Twilight Club plied his date with a bottle of champagne.

“Hello, Elena,” Roger said, stepping up to her, using her alias.

She turned to him. In her eyes, he saw a look of worry. She quickly cleared her expression. He was surprised she’d let any emotion show, even for that fraction of a second, since she was notoriously stoic. He wondered what it was that troubled her.

“Hello, Paul,” she said, using his alias as well.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Cut the bullshit,” she said, although not harshly. He liked how she talked simply and sometimes crudely, like a man, but how when you looked at her—with that body and that red hair and those intense green eyes—you were always very aware that Liza was a woman.

He looked around to make sure no one was listening. The bartender was taking care of Kate’s brothers. “So why did you introduce them?”

She gave him a hard stare, then picked up her glass of white wine and took a sip. “I didn’t think they would get married. Jesus, I just thought they could go on a date or two. I mean, Kate is my best friend, and she’d been moping around for almost a year since her marriage fell apart. And you know Michael. He hadn’t been out with someone in forever.”

“That’s because he didn’t want to bring anyone into this world.”

“Give me a break. He’s settling down here in St. Marabel. Why shouldn’t he be with someone who makes him happy?”

“Because it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous for your friend.”

She swallowed more wine, her brows knitting. “They’ll be fine. Michael has a totally different role now, right?”

He nodded. “That’s right. He’s requested step-down status, and running the Twilight Club is the assignment we’ve given him.”

“But you won’t let him out.”

“He can’t be out entirely. You know the rules.”

Liza sighed and turned to face the bar. “God, do I.”

He stepped closer. He could smell the lotion on her skin—scented with vanilla and something a little darker—and he felt himself grow hard. He could have stopped it. Like her, Roger had gotten very good at concealing emotion when he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. Just for tonight, and with someone exactly like Liza, he wanted to let sensation get the better of him. Although she was his subordinate, she was a star in his world. The thought of capturing that star, consuming her, was intoxicating.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” he said.

She stared at her wineglass. “It’s tough. You know how it is.”

“This is your legacy.”

“Sometimes I don’t care.”

“If it helps, I can tell you that the research we’re doing in Chicago is going well. Incredibly well, actually. I’d love to show you sometime.”

Liza gave him a confused look. “I know nothing about that research, and since I’m not involved, you shouldn’t be telling me. That’s protocol.”

He shook his head. “Rules can be bent.” If she only knew how he’d bent the rules.

“Since when?” Liza said.

He stepped even closer, to the side of her now. “I want to make you feel better.”

She looked up at him, and her face shifted to one of surprise. She’d seen his open desire.

“Roger,” she said sternly, dropping the alias, and taking a step back. “Don’t.”

He stepped closer. He could smell that scent again, and it made him want to pin her arms down and bite the side of her long, white neck. “Why not? Why should Michael and Kate get everything?”

“No fraternization. Those are the rules. And you helped make those rules.”

“I’ll break them.”

She gave a short laugh. “Have some respect for yourself. Stop while you’re ahead.”

“Let me make you feel better.”

“Roger, get the fuck away from me.”

The word fuck coming from her mouth made him angry and yet it turned him on even more. He was losing a little bit of control. He saw that. But he liked it. It had been a long, long time.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. “C’mon. Come back to my hotel.”

“Roger, maybe you’re not understanding. I have no interest in you, I have no interest in your body, and I’d rather spend six months in solitary confinement than go to your hotel room.”

He tightened his grip on her arm. Now she was pissing him off.

She dropped her voice. “If you don’t get your hand off me, I’ll break it. I will break every phalanx and every joint and every metacarpal.”

Just then, one of Kate’s brothers yelled “Liza!” from the end of the bar.

She yanked her arm away and shot them a smile. “Be right there,” she called.

She turned her attention back to him, her features growing stern again. “I’m going to pretend this didn’t happen. And it will not happen again. Do you get that?”

He felt the urge to smash her face with his fist. He was embarrassed now that he’d let her get the better of him, but he would never show her that. He merely gave her a smirk.

Liza tossed her shoulders back and walked to the end of the bar. She accepted a beer from one of Kate’s sisters-in-law and pecked one of the brothers on the cheek.

A minute later, she glanced over her shoulder to see if Roger was still there. He stood, trying to let his anger sift away. She was a star in their world, yes, but the way she treated him, as if he were some commoner, as if he weren’t someone, was inexcusable.

Finally, Roger turned and left the bar. The cobblestone streets of St. Marabel were slick. It must have rained. Roger put his hands in his pockets and headed for his hotel. He’d been able to clear most of his emotions and leave them at the pub—he’d left behind his desire and his momentary lack of control. But he was still carrying one emotion with him. His anger. He was having a very hard time getting rid of that.