Sweet Liar (Montgomery/Taggert 18)

“Release me!” she hissed. With her hands full with a heavy tray of food, she couldn’t hit him in the ribs with her elbows as she wanted to do.

“I’d like to hold onto you forever,” he said into her ear, nibbling on her lobe.

“You’re drunk.” Giving a sharp twist to get away from him, she set the tray down, then turned and gave Mike a hard look, but that didn’t keep him from laughing at her. As Samantha went back into the kitchen, Daphne was standing inside the house by the glass doors, watching the two of them.

“You’re not in love with him,” Daphne said flatly.

Samantha looked surprised. “No, I’m not. Is that unusual?” Glancing toward the three women in the garden, she watched them taking turns dancing with Mike. “He seems to have quite enough women in love with him.”

Daphne smiled. “He does. He’s an easy man to love. He’s sweet and generous and not at all hard to look at, and he takes care of his wounded birds.”

After pausing for a moment, Samantha put potato salad in a bowl. “Wounded birds?”

“Yeah,” Daphne said. “Like a boy scout, I guess, although I’ve not met too many of them. Mike likes to rescue people.”

“And what does he do with them after he rescues them?” Samantha asked softly.

Daphne smiled. “Gets rid of them fast, as far as I can tell.” She nodded toward the women in the garden, each of them looking at Mike with adoring eyes. “Look at them. Each of them thinks she’s going to be the one to catch Mike. But you know what? This time next year not one of them will even be invited to this house. But look at me, I’ve known Mike for two years, I’ve seen women come and go, all of them looking at him just like they are, but not one of them, as far as I know, even went to bed with him.”

“But you’re still here,” Samantha said.

Daphne picked up the bowl Samantha had filled. “But then I’ve never fallen for him, have I?” She gave Samantha a look that could only be interpreted as warning. “You watch out, honey, Mike is a heartbreaker, a real heartbreaker.”

After her talk with Daphne, Samant

ha stayed in the kitchen by herself for a while. A heartbreaker, she thought. What she did not need in her life was her heart broken another time. In fact, she didn’t think she could stand having her heart torn out of her body another time.

“You okay?” Mike asked from behind her.

Turning, she looked at him. He was so good-looking that it was sometimes difficult to think when he was around. All day long, with every word he’d spoken, she’d been aware of the way his lips moved.

Mike took a step closer to her. “You’re looking at me strangely. Want me to tell them to leave?”

Samantha smiled at him coolly. “No, please don’t.” She turned away from him. “I’m rather tired and I think I’ll go to bed.”

Moving to stand beside her, Mike cocked his head to gaze inquisitively at her, then put his hand under her chin and made her look at him. “Something’s bothering you. Did Daphne say anything? She didn’t tell you one of her stories about men, did she? I can tell you that Daphne has a very odd outlook on life.”

“No,” Samantha said, lying as she moved her chin out of his hand. “It’s been a long day and I want to go to bed, that’s all.”

Mike looked at her. Without moving, without touching her, his face changed to one of such heat, of such desire, that Samantha felt her skin grow warm. “I’d like to go to bed, too,” he said softly.

Samantha took a step back from him.

Abruptly, Mike’s face changed from desire to anger. “Who’s turned you off sex, Samantha?” he asked, making her name sound like a synonym for priggishness.

That made Samantha laugh, and the temptation she’d felt a moment before was gone. “Men are so predictable,” she said. “Whether they’re a CEO or work in a filling station, they’re the same. Because I don’t want to go to bed with you, you like to think I’m frigid or a victim of incest or something else awful has happened to me. For your information, Mr. Taggert, no one has turned me off sex. But you with your constant touching of me and your vulgar little innuendos are about to. Why don’t you ask one of those women to go to bed with you?” She nodded toward the women on the other side of the glass doors. “Or do you only want women who tell you no? Is it the challenge that intrigues you? When you’re adding another notch to your bedpost, do the women who’ve told you no repeatedly get a star by their notch?”

Mike was looking at her in bewilderment. “What in the world have I done to make you have such a low opinion of me?”

Turning away from him, Samantha knew she wasn’t being fair, for he had been so very kind to her all day. He’d taken more time with her in this one day than any other person had since her mother had died, yet here she was saying vile things to him because he was making a pass at her. But wasn’t that what males were supposed to do: try?

Maybe his kindness and constant attention was the problem. Maybe she didn’t want anyone to pay attention to her.

“I apologize,” she said. “I thank you for today, for taking me to the store, for introducing me to your cousin, for—”

“I don’t want your bloody thanks,” Mike said angrily before turning away to stalk out the door.

Samantha stood where she was for a moment, then went up the stairs to her apartment. She undressed slowly, carefully hanging her lovely new suit up, and for a moment she leaned against the closet door. Sometimes she wished she could cry. Sometimes she wished she could just sit down and bawl like other women seemed able to do, but as much as she wanted it, Samantha knew the tears would not come.