Sweet Liar Read Online Free PDF Page A

off the luscious young girl. Resisting the temptation to point out that he had by no means forced himself on her, he was also tempted to tell her that all they had shared was a kiss, nothing more, and that there was no reason to act as though he were a convicted rapist who’d just tried to molest her.
    â€œAll right,” he said in a cold tone. “What are the rules?”
    â€œI have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    â€œOh yes you do. Anybody who dresses as you do must live by rules, lots of them. Now tell me what your rules are.”
    At that Samantha picked up her tote bag and reached for her suitcase, but putting his hand on it, he wouldn’t let her have it.
    â€œAll right,” he said again, this time with a sigh of defeat. “I apologize again. Couldn’t we start over?”
    â€œNo,” she said. “It’s not possible. Would you please release my bag so I can leave?”
    Mike wasn’t going to let her leave. Besides the fact that he wanted her so badly there was sweat running down his chest even though it was a cool day, there was his promise to her father. He was aware that she knew nothing about how close he had been with her father, didn’t know that Dave and Mike had spent quite a bit of time together until Dave had told him Samantha was coming home. After that announcement Dave had confined their friendship to letters, which had been sent to the attorney, because for some reason, Dave hadn’t wanted Mike and Samantha to meet, at least not while Dave was alive. Then, two days before Dave died, he had called Mike, although by then Dave had been too weak for Mike to hear all of what he had to say, but Mike had understood the essence of it. Dave had said he was sending Samantha to him in New York and he had asked Mike to take care of her. At the time Mike hadn’t felt he’d had any other choice, so he’d given his word that he’d protect her and watch out for her. But so far, Mike didn’t think these last few minutes were what Dave had in mind.
    Mike looked down at Samantha’s two bags. “Which one has your overnight things in it?”
    Samantha thought that was a very odd question, but then the last few minutes had been the oddest of her life.
    Not waiting for her answer, he picked up her tote bag and opened the door to the house. “Five minutes, that’s all I ask. Give me five minutes, then ring the bell.”
    â€œWould you please give me back my bag?”
    â€œWhat time is it now?”
    â€œQuarter after four,” she answered automatically after a glance at her watch.
    â€œOkay, at twenty after ring the bell.”
    Shutting the door behind him, he left Samantha standing alone on the stoop, half of her luggage missing. When she pressed the doorbell, there was no answer. She was tempted to take her large case and leave, but the fact that her remaining money was hidden in her tote bag made her sit down on her suitcase and wait.
    Trying not to think of her father, trying not to ask herself why he had done this to her, and especially trying not to think of her husband—correction, ex-husband—she forced herself to look at the sidewalks and the street before her, forced herself to look at the people, at the men dressed in jeans and the women in outrageously short skirts. Even in New York, the air seemed to be full of the laziness of a Sunday afternoon.
    This man, this Michael Taggert, had said he wanted to start over, she thought. If she could, she’d like to start her life over, like to start from the morning of the day her mother died, because after that day nothing in her life had ever been the same. Today, having to be here, was part of all the pain and trauma that had started that day.
    Looking at her watch again, her first thought was that maybe she could pawn it, but the watch had cost only thirty dollars new, so she doubted that she could get much for it. Noticing that it was