Art of the Lie Read online

“I guess I was expecting you to make the first move,” she said at last.

  “And you know, with anybody else I already would have. I will right now, if that’s what you want. I’ll call up legal and have the papers in my office within ten minutes. It’s been drafted up and ready to go for weeks.”

  “Oh! Well, that’s…I don’t know. I guess I could read it and—”

  “See?” He gave her a wry smile. “You’re not ready to do this. And that’s perfectly okay. Although yes, when you do end up a famous designer, you should definitely read over any contract before you sign it. And get a lawyer to read it over too.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I know. It’s my curse.” He popped the bite of beef into his mouth and rolled his eyes in pleasure at the flavor.

  Laughing, Lindy shook her head at him. “So now what?”

  “Well,” Paul suggested, “I’d love to know why you aren’t ready, for one thing. Because you know, you should be. Talent-wise. You’ve got plenty of ideas. I think it’s just the business part that’s got you worried.”

  She smiled and shrugged. “I guess so. I’ve only just really started to stand on my own two feet out here. And it’s a good feeling. It was scary at first, because it was so much to learn. But now I sort of like it. I think you’re right, though, I think I don’t want to stretch myself too thin and risk messing up my ability to do art for a living because I don’t know the business end well enough yet. The extra money’s not worth that to me. Not right now, anyway. Besides, I never expected to make much money at this in the first place.”

  His answer wasn’t what she was expecting.

  “You know, Melinda, I envy you.”

  “You envy me? I don’t see how that’s even possible.”

  “Really?” Paul tilted his head to the side and grinned that puckish grin again. Lindy found it very cute. She suspected that many women found it devastatingly so. “To me it seems obvious. I envy you because you actually had the chance to find that out about yourself. You figured out what you wanted to do, and you’re going for it all on your own, at your own pace. That’s incredibly brave. I can’t imagine taking that kind of risk. I’ve never had to do that.”

  “You could have done something else,” she pointed out. “Gone into something other than the family business.”

  “True. But I like the family business. I never took that risk because I never really wanted to do anything else. And I’m grateful for that. But I can still admire somebody else for taking that leap.”

  “Thanks, I guess. So with anybody else you would have pushed for a contract, but not me, huh?”

  Paul winked. “You’re not anybody else. How’s the salmon?”

  “Delicious,” she replied, taking a bite. It was mouthwatering, really. The wine was superb. Later, Lindy would also enjoy a dessert involving a cake sort of thing with layers of crunchy meringue and dark chocolate that tasted pretty much like a candy bar having an orgasm in her mouth. So all in all, another noteworthy date.

  Paul walked her to her door again, waited for her to unlock it and kissed her hand as he had the last time. Then he leaned in and kissed her lips very gently and carefully, and very, very thoroughly. By the time he was through, Lindy was backed up to the door and Paul was deep inside her personal space, and both of them were breathing more heavily than was probably safe.

  “So,” he said, resting his forehead against hers and stealing another brief kiss before he continued. “So. That shouldn’t happen until we’re done figuring out the contract thing.”

  “Right,” Lindy agreed, closing her eyes and trying to regain her sense of balance. “I thought the contract thing was settled.”

  “No, I’m planning to make a counterproposal to your refusal of the original offer,” Paul explained. He ran his hands from her shoulders down her arms, twining his fingers in hers. “It’s a big secret. Very hush-hush. Don’t tell the others.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Lindy said, and blushed as she remembered the circumstances of the last time she’d said that.

  “Good. That’s good business practice,” Paul said with a nod, moving away a little and releasing her hands. “Better business practice than, you know…what I was doing.”

  “I was doing it too,” she reminded him.

  “True. Well, I have to go. Because I shouldn’t stay. But I’ll call you Monday. Or maybe tomorrow. No, Monday, from the office. Okay?”

  For the first time since she’d met him, Paul looked uncertain. Lindy couldn’t help but smile. He was kind of cute when he had no idea what he was doing. He was kind of cute all the time, really. Any minute now she expected a repeat of the sensual jolt she’d gotten when he glanced her way at the gallery.

  “Okay by me. You know the number. Thanks for dinner, it was wonderful.”

  He grinned and waved, backing away down the hall instead of turning around. “Yes it was. So, Monday.”

  “Monday.”

  It wasn’t until she was safely inside with the door locked behind her that Lindy’s smile faltered. She lifted a finger to her lips but the sensation had already faded. Just the memory lingered, of the movie-perfect moment they’d shared. Following the wonderful date with great conversation and possibly the best meal she’d ever had. And the novelty of watching the valet pull up and look enviously at Paul’s midnight blue Jag as he handed the keys back over.

  The date was perfectly lovely. She had enjoyed the kiss. And Paul was cute.

  And that was all.

  Lindy had hoped that losing her virginity would help her feel more confident in all her relationships, help her move on and get past the shyness that had kept her from too many opportunities in the past. But as an unexpected side effect of awakening her sexuality, she realized she now also knew when she wasn’t interested in having sex with someone. Even when she really wanted to be interested.

  She took her jacket off and rested her back against the chilly metal of the sliding door, hoping the cold would jolt her out of her funk. But she was too keenly aware that just a door and a hallway and another door and a few more steps away, Richard was probably watching a movie. Or trying to work. Or even kissing a girl, for all she knew. He was certainly entitled to do that.

  Lindy hated that the idea made her stomach churn.

  * * * * *

  Paul’s counteroffer turned out to be the deal Lindy couldn’t refuse. A simpler, straightforward buyout of a specific number of designs, and instead of being marketed as “Melinda Moore for Red House”, they would be sold under the “Red House Collection” label. The tags would also bear the line “by Melinda Moore” but in much smaller print. And she would be under no obligation to supply further designs, nor would designs be optioned; future deals would be negotiated separately. There was a very generous lump-sum payment involved.

  “You know I still want to talk about a package of designs for the fall, though, right?” He was walking her down to her car from his office, probably more slowly than he would have done with most of his business associates.

  “Yes, Paul, you’ve mentioned that. About five times now.” She grinned at his sheepish expression.

  “Just making sure you know,” he demurred. “By the way, Stephen’s not happy about this deal. He really wanted options on your future work.”

  “Should I be flattered?”

  “Definitely. But I think he’ll come around. This is simpler, better. I think we were so gung-ho for changes when I took over for my Dad, we might have lost sight of some priorities for a little bit. Slow growth isn’t as thrilling as branching out all over, but it probably suits the company a little better. And it’s definitely a lot less stress.”

  Smiling, Lindy remembered what Stella had said about Paul, and was pleased she would be able to report back to her mentor favorably. Paul really did know Red House’s strengths and was willing to play to them even if it meant the company stayed small.

  When they reached Lindy’s car, Paul opened the door for her. “So you’re going to
meet me at the movie theater at eight, no dinner first?” he asked. “Should I be worried?”

  Lindy shook her head. “Absolutely not. My cousin just wants to talk. Normally she calls my sister Tess first for that, but I think Tess probably gave her an answer she didn’t want to hear. So I’m next in line.”

  “Is this all that unloading you mentioned?”

  “Sort of,” Lindy said. “Usually Allison is one of the sane ones. I mean, she’s a psychology professor. Not that you necessarily have to be sane for that, but it helps. But right now she’s being sort of emo.”

  “Emo?”

  “Emo. You know. ‘Cheer up, emo kid’?” At his blank expression, she tried to explain. “Emo, as in emotional in the extreme. Melodrama plus ennui plus self-pity. Traditionally with stringy hair falling in your face and an iPod full of whiny soft punk. It’s a big look around the art schools. And Ally isn’t really emo, she’s just thinking too much about a guy, but it’s starting to get annoying. Wow, with this much explanation it just isn’t an amusing pop culture reference at all.”

  “Ah. Well, you learn something new every day, I guess.”

  “I’m sorry that emo was your only new thing today. I’ll try to think up something better for when I see you at eight.”

  Paul laughed as he handed her into the car with the lightest brush of a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be eager to see what you come up with.”

  * * * * *

  A few hours later, outside Allison’s apartment building, Lindy was frowning up at the night sky. It was unleashing a light drizzle on the hair she’d spent over half an hour straightening before her meeting with Paul, and she didn’t have an umbrella with her. She flipped up the collar of her black trench coat and broke into a jog to make it to her car a little faster, cursing when her heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk and she pitched forward onto her hands and knees.

  “Fuck!”

  As soon as she said it she looked around, hoping nobody had seen or heard. The sidewalk was empty, though, and she was able to limp to her car unobserved.

  Her heel was ruined, her hem was soaked, her hair was a frizzled mess and there was no way she could show up for a date with Paul looking like this. Cursing again, she picked up her cell phone.

  Fortunately Paul was understanding and there was a slightly later showing of the movie they’d planned to see. Lindy ended the call with a sigh of relief. She would have just enough time to go home, change clothes and do something with her hair.

  Driving slowly in the strengthening rain, she thought back to her conversation with Allison. With any luck, Allison had taken Lindy’s advice and was even now on her way to Seth’s house to sort things out. She was obviously in love with Seth, and it shouldn’t take a genius to see that. But Allison, who probably was a genius, had needed to have somebody else point it out for her. Sighing, Lindy wondered what hope there was for the non-PhDs.

  Lindy knew she wasn’t a genius herself, and particularly not when it came to love. Here she was dating one of the most prized catches in the state and all she could think about was the reprobate bohemian who lived in the decrepit loft across the hall. Who was she to lecture anybody else about matters of the heart?

  Not that she’d seen much of Richard lately. Since her show, in fact, she could count the number of times she had seen Richard on the fingers of one hand. Fleeting glances mostly, and one brief, strained conversation about nothing much while waiting for a free dryer in the laundry room. He seemed even more preoccupied than usual and it worried her, but given the history they shared now, she was reluctant to approach him, even to ask what might be wrong.

  Lindy suspected she knew what was wrong anyway. He was avoiding her, just like he always avoided his conquests after sleeping with them. That had been a known risk.

  What she hadn’t anticipated was how much she would miss him.

  Chapter Nine

  It was hard work this time around. Richard looked at the tracery of fine blue lines on his canvas with a grim satisfaction. He didn’t know if it would lead to something good. He didn’t know if the final work would even resemble the faint sketch of a sketch he’d accomplished in his free time over the past few weeks. He just knew it was a start, and for now that was enough.

  Still, it was a little brutal, like physical therapy on a muscle that hasn’t been used in ages. He wasn’t sure if he should be thanking Lindy or blaming her. Not that he would ever do either of those things to her face.

  Thinking about Lindy and sex all the time had been bad enough. What Richard was thinking about now was worse, though. Not just sex, although those visions continued to plague him in a way he hadn’t been plagued since high school. No, now he was looking back and realizing just how integral to his life Lindy had become, long before the sex came along to complicate things.

  She had been there every day for months, a friend, a touchstone. He was as aware of her presence in the background of his days as he was of the sun, which was to say he had taken it for granted and had no real concept of its necessity until it was gone.

  He had stayed with Natasha long past common sense because he had wanted so much for it to be right, because he had worked so hard on that relationship for the first time in his life. He had chased Natasha instead of the other way around, and he’d thought that was the critical difference. He’d been crushed to realize he had picked the wrong person.

  But the thing with Lindy had happened without his even noticing. He might have called it effortless, but looking back over the past few months he could see that it hadn’t been. It was just that the work was usually so pleasant and the payoff was always worth it.

  Now Richard looked up a dozen times a day, starting to call out a question or comment to the loft across the hall, only to realize the doors were closed. Not just metaphorically. Their easy back-and-forth, treating the entire floor as one big loft, had ended after Lindy started dating Paul Maddox. Now Richard didn’t even know whether she was home or gone most of the time. And he missed it terribly, that light but almost constant contact. He missed knowing she was just there, in the next room. He missed her.

  Richard tried to convince himself that if Lindy wanted to be just friends, he could learn to handle that. If he never got to have sex with her again it wouldn’t matter, as long as he was able to talk to her and spend time with her. But he couldn’t believe his own lie. He wanted to see Lindy, wanted to have long conversations with her and quite possibly spend the rest of his life with her, because at some point he had lost the ability to imagine a life without her in it…but he also still wanted to sleep with her in the worst way. Also in several of the best ways.

  And he couldn’t bear the idea that she might, at any time, start having sex with Maddox.

  She seemed to spend her nights at home, and he didn’t think she was sleeping with Maddox yet. But that could only be a matter of time. After all, she was no virgin anymore. Hadn’t that been the point? Hadn’t that been his undoing, the reason he had been drawn in like this?

  Richard’s only consolation was that he couldn’t actually picture that match. His sweet, shy neighbor, turned fiery and daring and utterly magnificent in bed, just didn’t work in Richard’s mind with Maddox and his straight-arrow, conservative demeanor. Maddox was probably a good guy, Richard was willing to admit to himself, but he seemed like vanilla all the way. And Lindy had come in to her own with Richard, whose position on the ice cream flavor scale was probably closer to Rocky Road.

  After a long period of distraction spent trying to decide just what flavor might represent Lindy, Richard gave up even trying to work and put his pencils and chalk aside for the evening. As he was trying to decide what to do next, the phone rang and he was surprised to see Tess Moore’s name on the caller ID.

  “So can I talk to Lindy?” Tess asked after the opening pleasantries were exchanged.

  “She’s not here,” Richard replied, puzzled.

  “Oh. Really?”

  “Yeah. Pretty sure. I think I’d kn
ow if she were hiding under the bed or something, it’s not that big a place.”

  “I would have thought she’d be back by now. She was at Ally’s earlier, but she left there like fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Well,” Richard speculated, “she’s probably out on a date. With Paul Maddox.”

  He was surprised at Tess’ response, a snorting laugh that clearly indicated she found the idea ludicrous.

  “I did not just hear that. Seriously, can I just talk to her? I need to find out if she can pick up my mail and stuff, I’m going out of town this weekend.”

  “Tess, she’s not here.” He was starting to get a little annoyed. “I think she’s out with Maddox. They’ve been going out ever since her show at the gallery. You mean you didn’t know?”

  After a tense pause, Tess asked, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. So I guess that’s a ‘yes’ on you not knowing.”

  “No, I didn’t know. What has she gotten herself into? Man, I don’t have time to deal with this.”

  “I don’t recall hearing her ask you to deal with it. What would be the problem? He’s supposed to be a great catch, isn’t he?”

  “Of course,” Tess agreed. “But Lindy doesn’t do this. She doesn’t date. As far as I know, she’s never even had a boyfriend. And now she’s setting her sights on somebody like that? She’s bound to get hurt. Somebody needs to talk to her.”

  Richard shifted in his seat, edgy with the growing irritation at Tess’ big-sister attack and his own desire to defend Lindy without giving up any of her secrets. “Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think. But I know she has…had a boyfriend.” Or something like it, anyway. “And as far as setting her sights on anyone, I don’t know that she’s done that. He asked her out, and so they’ve gone out a few times. Or at least I think it’s been a few times.”

  “Richard, I’m sure she’s told you she’s had a boyfriend. I mean, come on. She wants to impress you. Just like in college.”

  “What are you talking about?”