Sherrilyn Kenyon - Silent Truth

He kept Gwen in his peripheral vision. She made introductions between mystery guy and the three men, but if Hunter correctly read the unenthusiastic look in her eyes, the way she didn’t shake hands and the way her lips remained flat, he’d have to guess she was not a happy hostess.

“Why?” Abbie finally asked.

He hated that question. “Do I have to have a reason to help you?”

“Yes.”

Unbelievable.

“Fine. I’ve got an ulterior motive.” Hunter tilted his chin down to the top of Abbie’s head, which served two purposes. He appeared intent on whatever she was saying and leaning this close allowed him to watch Gwen’s group without Abbie realizing something else held his focus.

Her piled hair played into his view, distracting him. He’d like to see those curls sprung loose.

She crossed her arms. “What’s your ulterior motive?”

Give me a minute to think of one. Hunter was trying to get a clear look at all three men who came down the stairs to determine which one might be the American known as Vestavia. “Make you a deal.”

“I don’t make deals with men I don’t know.”

“It’s not that big a deal.” Especially since he hadn’t thought of something else to offer her. Hunter got a better visual of the dark-haired man from the trio. Could he be the one BAD knew as Brady, the former DEA agent who disappeared, then surfaced later as Fra Vestavia? His face didn’t match the image BAD had on file, but that was from almost a year ago, which allowed enough time for plastic surgery. The tallest guy with pale brown hair and stern lips could have been British. Next to him stood a rigid example of Russian features with a stern jaw line, wide forehead, and thick gray hair.

“Okay. What deal?” she asked.

Hunter lifted his chin up enough to draw Abbie’s gaze to his. “Why do you sound like I’m trying to sell you snake oil? Is it that much of a strain to spend a few minutes with me?”

That silenced her.

“Here’s the deal. You want to meet people and I want ten minutes with someone nice.” Hunter caught a movement near Gwen’s group. Another woman emerged from the shadows to stand discreetly to the side of the American male. Thick black hair waved along her shoulders.

She could be anywhere from midtwenties to midthirties. A stunning creature and tense as a stretched violin string.

Italian.

Linette was Italian. Could that be…

“You know what?” she said quietly, and grasped the lapel of his tux, leaning closer to him. Perfect. He just needed her to stand here another five minutes. He could flirt with her for five minutes.

“What, sweetheart?” he answered, trying to keep his eyes fixed on Gwen’s meeting, but Abbie’s soft scent climbed inside his head with every breath. He added, “I’m at a loss for what to offer you. What would make you happy?”

When Abbie didn’t answer, he dropped his gaze to find her closer, but she’d bent her neck back, clearly seeing that his attention was not on her.

Abbie’s lips tightened with a smile born of irritation. Her quiet words were deceptively calm when she said, “What would make me happy? To meet one man who isn’t a jerk. Why don’t you go screw whoever it is you’re so fixated on and stay the hell away from me?” She swung around to leave.

Abbie didn’t have all night to find Gwen or to play twenty questions with a playboy looking for an hour of mindless entertainment.

That Hunter jerk had been watching someone else while he pretended to talk to her, probably another Lydia clone.

All men were liars and… liars.

She’d taken two steps when hands locked on each of her shoulders, stopping her forward progress.

Had to be Hunter.

She kept a leash on her temper, reminding herself he’d been the only person to step forward the last time she’d gotten into a confrontation. From the way no one challenged him then, she doubted anyone would speak up on her behalf this time.

His warm breath swirled the fine hairs along her neck when he said, “I wasn’t treating you like a joke or screwing with you.”

His hands were strong but held her carefully. The strength surprised her since she’d already tagged him as soft and worthless, but what else did a rich kid have to do all day besides go to the gym or play tennis?

“Admit it,” she whispered. “You were using me to snoop on someone. Another old nuisance?”

“Yes, I was watching a woman, but not an old girlfriend. I saw a woman who is engaged to a friend of mine kissing another man and wanted to be sure about what I’d observed. I didn’t realize she was there until I saw her behind you. I’d point her out if not for needing to protect my friend’s private life.” He squeezed her shoulders, a silent request for her to give him a chance. “I thought you wanted to meet some people and I do know practically everyone here. Now that you understand why I was distracted, will you help me? No one should have to marry a person who can’t even start off faithful.”

Those were the magic words.

Hunter had redeemed himself enough for her to give him a few minutes of her time.

Plus he could introduce her around and she would bet he knew Gwen. Everyone here-except Abbie-probably had some sort of connection to the heiress.

She nodded her head. “Fine. I’m game.”

He drew her around, then gently eased her to his side and walked companionably back to their prior spot. When he turned her to face him, he latched his hands on her shoulders again.

“I apologize for allowing my distraction to result in poor manners.” His eyes warmed with sincerity she wanted to believe. “I’ll strive to be better company while you help me.”

The way this Hunter guy soaked her up with his eyes scattered nervous prickling along her skin. He just needed her for camouflage, so ignore the sexy glint in that deep green gaze.

“Apology accepted.”

“Thanks for understanding,” Hunter murmured, his undivided attention spinning a cocoon of heat around her body.

What would it be like to have a man like that really interested in her.

Probably short-lived, and untrustworthy as her ex, Harry the jeweler.

She tried to shrug to break the spell trapping her mind, but his hands didn’t allow much shoulder movement. “Not a problem,” she finally mumbled. “Especially if it means exposing a faithless, conniving, untrustworthy… sack of pig manure who-” Deserves to be horsewhipped, she finished silently.

Harry’s face blurred through her scorching thoughts.

Forget about lying, cheating Harry.

Tonight’s cheating female was Hunter’s problem, not hers. Abbie peeked up at him, assuming his silence meant he was busy doing the snoop thing and might have missed her semi-rant.

Not even.

His gaze was still settled on her in quiet observation. “‘Sack of pig manure’? You’re really attractive when you’re in a snit.”

She couldn’t come up with a reply.

Couldn’t remember the last time a man had told her she was attractive.

Hunter’s lips shifted. He… almost smiled. The muscles in his face moved stiffly, as if he hadn’t used them to smile in a long time.

His fingers relaxed.

The backhanded compliment had disconnected the neurons between her brain and body. There could be no other reason she stood perfectly still as his warm hands slid down her exposed arms, waking excited nerves everywhere he touched bare skin.

When he took her hands in his, she wasn’t sure what she expected. Maybe just an obligatory soft clasp of his fingers over hers, but his grasp was firm, his fingers closing with care. Strength hovered beneath the skin, warning there was more to this man than she’d initially assumed.