Lies We Keep Read online

  And we weren’t any closer to discovering his identity.

  We stopped at a light, and I locked eyes with the driver in the car beside us. Quickly, he looked away.

  Could that be him?

  Could he see me now?

  Was he following us?

  I turned away from the window and faced Blakely, who sat beside me. He was scribbling notes in a small notebook he kept in his back pocket. The cover was creased where he’d sat on it too many times. Its black color had long since faded to a dark gray.

  “Which store are we going to?” I asked.

  “A home-improvement store. I think I can get most everything on my list from there.”

  “Tara is already working on getting you a phone and computer,” I said, remembering my earlier promises.

  He nodded. “Good. What about a car? We’ll need special additions like tinted windows, airless tires, bullet-proof siding—”

  “Tara can help with that, too,” I said quietly.

  I exhaled slowly, trying not to think about the dangers that lurked around every corner when I wasn’t hidden safely behind my apartment door.

  In a matter of minutes, my stalker elevated his game, bringing my happy-go-lucky world to a screeching halt. I’d been careless, stupid even, and I was mentally preparing myself for what the coming days would bring. I couldn’t venture out alone anymore—such reckless behavior would undoubtedly be my end.

  We reached the home-improvement store sooner than I anticipated. Blakely paid the driver, and we walked inside.

  Feeling nervous, I walked close by Blakely’s side. Only when our arms touched did I feel I was safe enough to explore. I scanned my surroundings as Blakely tossed items into the basket I carried.

  The store was full of shoppers—mostly couples who seemed to be embarking on a do-it-yourself home project. I smiled at a woman who seemed less than thrilled to watch the man she was with assess tools. He stared at two hammers as if there were a real difference between them. (I wasn’t convinced there was.) When I bought my apartment, I’d hated the floor plan, so I bulldozed through it and started from scratch. That part had been awful. I spent hours in a store like this one, but when the revamp was completed and I could finally decorate the rooms, I knew I had made the right decision. Eventually, this stranger would feel that way, too.

  “Can I help you find something?” someone asked.

  I jolted behind Blakely, my heart beating in overdrive. I was sure I looked erratic, like some psychotic housewife who’d forgotten to take her pills. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, a feeling eerily like a situation I’d only recently written about in my latest novel. Only then did I realize I didn’t give the scene the justice it deserved.

  Blakely cleared his throat as he extended an arm toward me. “Uhm, no, thanks. We’re fine. We’re just picking up a home security system.”

  The kid speaking looked no older than seventeen. His eyes were bright, vibrant, as if he had no familiarity with the dangers in this world. A sloppy mess of red curls cropped his head, and it wobbled every time he spoke. It looked like a wig that would soon topple over. “You came to the right place. We have some fantastic options. How secure are you looking to go?”

  “Pretty secure,” Blakely said.

  Pointing to a shelved box, the kid said, “I’d go with our all-in-one camera system. You can hook up this bad boy, and then once you download the free app to any smart device—like a cell phone or tablet—you can watch a live feed of your house from anywhere if you have Wi-Fi access. It comes with four cameras, but you can buy extra. And the cameras can be used outdoors, too. Don’t worry about the elements.” He offered a shining smile.

  Blakely nodded and grabbed the box from the shelf, reading the back. “Does it come with an actual alarm system?”

  “Sure does. It’ll work through a phone line, so the police and fire department will be notified if it goes off. They’ll call you to make sure everything is okay.”

  “Why do we even need all this? You’ll be there,” I asked.

  “The alarm system and cameras are more of a deterrence,” Blakely answered. “People are less likely to do something stupid when they’re on camera or if the police will be notified if they break down the door.”

  “Right…” the kid said, chuckling. “We don’t exactly market it that way, but I guess that’s true. Keep in mind that it’s a completely dependable system; it’s not just there for looks.”

  The kid winked at me, and I rolled my eyes.

  “We’ll take it,” Blakely said, ignoring the kid’s pointed comment.

  Within the hour, we were back in my neighborhood, but once we reached my apartment and ditched our bags, my phone beeped.

  I glanced at the screen, which displayed a text from Tara. “Let’s stop by Tara’s office,” I said. “She has your phone and laptop.”

  Be there soon, I responded.

  The taxi ride was shorter than usual, and we were back in Tara’s office building before she had even replied to my message.

  I offered a friendly hello to Tara’s assistant before opening the door to Tara’s office. Immediately, I was pulled into a tight embrace.

  “How’re you doing?” she asked.

  “Struggling to breathe. You?” I joked.

  Tara had a way of making me feel instantly at ease. I’d only felt such a feeling with one other person: Blakely. Tara liked numbers and order, but I relied on my gut instincts: if my emotions told me I could trust someone, I knew it to be true. Within seconds of meeting someone, I could tell if I’d connect with him or her. I felt it with Tara, with Blakely, and so far, this superpower of mine hadn’t let me down.

  Now, as I stood in Tara’s office, I felt the pain of the world slowly wash away. I wasn’t a stalked writer; I was just a girl in the office my friend often fell asleep in after working long hours.

  Giving me a sharp glare, Tara released me but didn’t back away. I knew she was waiting for a more honest answer. After years of friendship, I could read her like a book.

  I sighed. “Been better, but I’m dealing.”

  “Don’t let her shut down, Mr. Blakely,” she scolded, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a child, Tara, and by the way, nice digs,” I said, holding her at arm’s length so I could take in her outfit. I desperately needed a subject change, and Tara’s latest purchase would make for a perfect distraction.

  “You like?” she asked, reaching down and pulling on the hem of her bright red cocktail dress.

  “I love,” I said. “I wish I could pull off the colors you can. I’d wear this in a second.”

  Tara’s skin was the color of melted chocolate, so bright colors worked to her advantage. She looked stunningly flawless in every crazy color she’d ever worn.

  I could never hide my jealousy well.

  “Is this for me?” Blakely asked, breaking my trance. Apparently, Blakely didn’t get the subject-change notice.

  Tara faced him and nodded. “Yes. Both are brand new, but I’ve got them insured. Let me know if you need to file a claim for any reason.”

  “Did you charge these to my account?” I asked.

  She nodded. Tara wasn’t just my literary agent; she was also my best friend who occasionally did work an assistant would do. I tried to pop the bubble I’d surrounded myself with long enough to hire an assistant, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t trust someone the way I trusted her, so I gave Tara a credit card for times when she needed to spend money on me that wasn’t included in the literary agent category.

  “I’ve also ordered another card with Mr. Blakely’s name on it, but it’ll take a couple weeks to get here.”

  I nodded. “He can use mine in the meantime,” I said.

  “I wanted to talk to you about a car,” Blakely added, his eyes on Tara.

  While Tara and Blakely talked the pros and cons of cars over SUVs and whether the additional expense of bullet-proof siding was necessary, I helped myself t
o some coffee. The aroma of coffee beans wafted through the air, and briefly, I closed my eyes, letting my senses soak up the sensation. I’ve always been a coffee person. I inherited the love for coffee from my mom, who couldn’t go a day without several cups. I added a splash of cream and a few scoops of sugar before walking to the wall of windows that separated Tara’s office from the rest of the world.

  I stared at the skyline, letting its beauty sink in and distract me from eavesdropping; I had no interest in discussing the car detailing.

  There was nothing my love affair with Manhattan couldn’t cure. All I needed to do was stare at the cityscape, take in the smells, and I was hooked. I was a different person when I was in Manhattan. Back home, I was a social butterfly, but here, in Manhattan, I was a functional shut-in. And I was okay with that. People came from all over the world to start over in this city.

  No one understood me the way Manhattan did.

  No one would ever understand me the way Manhattan could.

  I stared at the screen of my cell phone, scrolling through the email message I’d just received. The weight I’d been carrying on my shoulders seemed to lift as I read each word, my excitement building. Looking up, I smiled at Blakely, who was kneeling beside the front door, setting up the new security system we’d just gotten.

  “We’ll need a six-digit code,” he said. His eyes met mine.

  “How about 1-2-3-4-5-6,” I said.

  “Really?” he asked, not amused.

  “Think about it. That’s the last code a person would use, so it’s the last code an intruder would enter. It’s like making your email password ‘password.’”

  “Another code, Jezebel.”

  I groaned. “You pick, and I’ll memorize, boss.”

  I listened as he punched in a security code, scribbling the number onto a sticky note before handing it to me. “Memorize this.”

  I saluted him, mouthed ‘Yes, sir,’ and continued reading the email I’d received.

  He shook his head at my military salute but couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

  “I have news,” I said, letting the excitement trickle in.

  “What?”

  “A few months ago, my alma matter asked if I’d attend the next residency as a visiting lecturer. Appearances are part of my job, so Tara told them I’d do it.”

  Standing, he wiped his hands on his jeans. “When?”

  “They have six-month semesters, so the residency begins on Monday.” I flashed him a cheeky grin.

  He exhaled slowly. “Monday? And you’re just telling me now?”

  He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “Honestly, I forgot. Tara usually handles this stuff. She just tells me where to be.” I shrugged.

  “Shouldn’t this have been mentioned as soon as you hired me?”

  I sighed. “She’s been a little busy lately, Blakely. Cut her some slack.”

  “I’m not sure it’s the best idea. That doesn’t give us much time to prepare.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Add a few days, and that’s almost a week. Plenty of time!”

  He frowned. “Does this really sound like an idea I’d go for?”

  “Well, no… But I already agreed. I must do this. This isn’t a signing for some bookstore I’ve never been to. This is my alma mater. I have friends there. A last-minute cancellation isn’t going to work.”

  “Where?”

  “Maine.”

  He didn’t speak as he considered my request, but I could see the unease in his eyes.

  “It’s close. Only six or seven hours away, depending on traffic. We can drive.” I smiled.

  “I don’t know, Jezebel…”

  “We can get a suite at the same hotel where they host the panels and readings. We’ll never even have to leave the building. We’ll share a room or get adjoining rooms.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, tussling his chocolate-brown locks. He still wasn’t convinced, but I could tell I almost had him. I just needed to give him the one thing he craved: complete control.

  “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

  His eyes met mine. “Whatever I ask whenever I ask?”

  I nodded enthusiastically. “You have my word.”

  With a quick exhale, he agreed. “We should have Tara email over some of the bodyguard applications.”

  I arched an eyebrow in question.

  “If we’re going to do this, you need at least one more guard.”

  “It’ll be a little ridiculous, and not to mention narcissistic, if I show up with a crew of bodyguards.”

  “Not if the situation is considered.”

  “No one there knows the situation. The news about my stalker hasn’t yet leaked. Tara has worked her ass off to keep this part of my career hidden from the press, from readers. No one knows, but as soon as I show up with an entourage, they’ll know something is up. Or worse: they’ll think I’ve succumbed to celebrity.”

  I shuddered at the thought. I worked hard to maintain normalcy even after my bank account reached eight figures.

  The room fell silent as Blakely considered my situation. “Fine. For now, it’ll be just the two of us, but remember your promises. If this gets worse, we hire more, and we leave Manhattan.”

  “Do you know how sexy you are when you give me orders?” I asked, wiggling my brows.

  “Do you know how difficult you make my job when you give me your come-fuck-me eyes?” he countered.

  Smiling, I walked over and plopped onto the couch. I gently patted the open cushion, drawing Blakely to sit beside me.

  In the moments my stalker didn’t cloud my mind, I felt free; I felt naughty. I knew Blakely hated those moments, but I couldn’t help it: he had a natural talent for making me horny.

  My skin crawled with excitement at the thought of escaping the city (and its stalker inhabitants) for a week to chat about the publishing industry, and that, paired with my nerves about being alone in my apartment with Blakely, pushed me over the edge.

  But let’s be honest: whenever I was alone with Blakely, it didn’t take more than a small step to succumb to that edge…

  I snuggled closer to him, closing my eyes. I listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady, and the rhythmic motions of each breath. His nose was buried in my hair, and with each exhalation, strands fluttered against my skin, tickling my neck. Quickly, the calming feeling that lingered turned to lust, and my need for him went into overdrive.

  I draped a leg over his lap and wrapped my arm around his waist, finding the hem of his shirt. Running my hand against the ridges of his torso, I let my fingers explore, teasing the skin just below the waistline of his jeans. A deep hum escaped his chest. Taking that as a go ahead, I straddled him, dropping my mouth to his before he could push me away.

  With one hand behind my neck and one at the base of my spine, he held me close as he explored my mouth, grazing his tongue against my own with expert strokes. He hardened and lengthened beneath me. I grasped the waistline of his jeans; my fingers grazed his erection. I brushed my fingers against the hot skin and smiled internally when he groaned in response. I unbuttoned his pants, but as I worked the zipper, he pushed away, breathless. I was sure the heat in his eyes matched my own. He stood, lifting me from the seat. He set me down, adjusted, and walked away. Slamming his bedroom door shut, he retreated, and I exhaled sharply.

  Eventually, he’d cave.

  Giving up on getting any action tonight, I attempted to drown my sorrows in alcohol. I poured a glass of lemonade and added a generous splash of vodka. Holding up the glass, I made a silent cheer to Blakely’s control before downing the cup and pouring another.

  I stumbled into Blakely’s room, tripping over my feet and landing in a thud on the floor. Giggling, I picked up myself and maneuvered through the dark room until I reached his bed. Apparently, my stealth-mode wasn’t in full gear, because Blakely had sat up in bed, legs dangling over the side as he faced me, by the time I reached him.

&
nbsp; He was naked.

  “Whoa,” I said, swaying as I tried to balance on two feet.

  I widened my eyes as I took in the view. When I reached the happy trail of hair that led to the prize, I squinted. In the darkness, the boxer-briefs he wore blended in.

  “Oh…”

  Damn. He wasn’t naked.

  I hiccupped and slapped my hand across my mouth to muffle the noise, laughing at my delayed reaction.

  “Miss Tate,” he said, yawning. “It’s late.”

  I leaned forward, lightly grazing my fingertips across the firm skin of his arm.

  “What are you…”

  I slipped my arms free of my t-shirt, letting it fall to the floor in a heap.

  He inhaled sharply, his eyes trailing down my practically-nude frame. I stood in only panties.

  “I think you know,” I said, running a hand through his tussled hair.

  “You’re drunk,” he said, pushing away my hand.

  “I’m tipsy, not drunk. When you’re drunk, you can’t think clearly, but I can see all the things I want you to do to me with crystal-clear perfection.”

  I straddled his lap, grabbed his hands, and placed one on each ass cheek. I arched into him, running soft kisses down the curve of his strong jawline. He moaned into my ear.

  Oh, yes. He wants this. He wants me.

  “How about we make those dreams a reality?” I whispered.

  My nipples hardened as my breasts slid against his soft skin. He dug his fingertips into my flesh and rubbed me against him. He was already hard. I gasped at the contact, my core quivering.

  I ran my hands across his chest and linked them behind his neck.

  “I want you, Blakely. Here. Now.”

  In a quick motion, he lifted me, stood, and pushed me up against the wall. My breath caught as I wrapped my legs around him. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine. His breathing was heavy; his heart pounded against my chest. My nipples ached as they rubbed against the light dusting of hair on his chest. I wanted him badly—just like this. I bit my lower lip at the thought of all the things he could do to me if only he’d let me in.