Tell No Lies Read Online Free PDF Page B

concentration, opened the door herself. She sat down in the driver's seat, her legs still outside, and put the key into the ignition. The music she had been listening to on the way to work began again. "Crash Into Me." She leaned over and turned up the volume slightly. The slow, gentle sounds of an acoustic guitar and brushed cymbals floated through the humid air of the garage and out into the night. Had he not known better, he would have thought she'd planned all this.
    She stood and took his hands, intertwining their fingers. They moved together away from the car, and she moved closer to him. For the first time in nine years he felt her body against his, and even with their clothes as a barrier, it was exactly as he'd imagined—and feared. He felt the fullness of her breasts as they pressed on his chest, and her hips as they brushed up against his. She began to sway to the music, taking him with her.
    "Jenny . . ." He tried to speak, but it came out hoarse and he was forced to clear his throat.
    "Shh. Just listen. Move with the music," she murmured. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder.
    He stared out at the lights of the city, trying to regulate his breathing. This is the alcohol , he told himself. He prayed she wouldn't let go of his hands because he knew he would have no control over them.
 
    She began to lead them around in slow, easy circles. His head reeled, but she seemed unaffected by it all, so relaxed, and he suddenly worried that this pas de deux had a whole different meaning for him than for her. Maybe she did just want to dance.
 
    He tightened his hands on hers, discreetly taking the lead. He felt her tense up and knew she had sensed the switch. He stopped the turning, led them back to the car as slowly as she had led them away, and backed her up against it. She lifted her head and looked at him, startled by his sudden authority.
    "You don't step on toes," she said.
    "No, I don't," he said, admitting his lie.
    Her dark brown eyes were black tonight, and he stared into them, trying to see behind them. She met his stare, as if they were locked in a contest, but finally gave in and looked away.
    "Look at me." He turned her cheek so that she faced him again. "What are you doing?"
    "What are you doing?" she replied without hesitation.
 
    He asked himself the same question as he bent his head down to meet hers. As he felt her lips and then her tongue, he finally submitted completely, his fingers caressing the heavy strands of her silky hair.
    His tongue explored her mouth, slowly and gently, without urgency. He felt her hands move to his shoulders, and she exerted light pressure in no particular direction, as if she was unsure whether to push him away. He disregarded it, determining her intentions instead from the hungry response of her mouth.
    Later, he wondered how they hadn't heard the elevator cables moving, how they hadn't heard the doors opening and then closing, hard and resolute. They hadn't heard the footsteps or even, unbelievably, the opening of the car door on the other side of the garage. It was the start of the car's engine that startled him and caused him to back away from her, and only because, for less than an instant, he imagined the sound had somehow come from Jenny's car.
    "Come on." He grabbed her arm and led her quickly around to the passenger side. The spiral ramp that led to the exit was on their side of the garage and he wanted them inside her car before the other one reached them. She seemed not to have the same sense of urgency. The soporific effects of the alcohol had kicked in, and she stumbled as she tried to get in.
    "Jenny, please," he begged. Without looking, he could see the headlights approaching. He turned his back to the car as it passed slowly behind hers. Keep going, keep going , he thought, knowing that had he been the driver, at this hour, he would stop, wondering if the woman was there willingly.
 
    It passed without stopping, and he thanked it and