Wendy Etherington - Private Lies

Roxanne studied each customer in turn. Though the bar boasted several dark-haired men in conservative suits, none of them was Gage. None had his stark masculinity, his sexy—Whoa. What’s this? She focused on two men at one end of the bar.

“He’s there,” Roxanne whispered. Her body grew numb and her heart sank as her gaze locked on the familiar sculpted cheekbones and jaw.

Her friend Toni followed her gaze. “I was kind of expecting him to be with a svelte blond lover. Wait, he’s got a ponytail! And he’s smoking!”

Roxanne had noticed that, too. The sophisticated surface she saw every day had been wiped away, as if the charming man she lived with was an act and a dangerous stranger had taken his place.

He’d lied to her. What the hell was going on? In that moment of watching her fiancé acting like someone else…something inside her shifted.

Snapped.

Gage may think he’s got me fooled, she thought furiously as she rose from her chair, but this is where it ends….

Dear Reader,

Ah, bad boys. Aren’t they just sigh-inducingly wonderful?

Though this story opens with Roxanne, to me it will always be Gage’s book. This is why the book begins where it does—not with him meeting the woman of his dreams and falling in love, but after he’s already popped the question.

“This is a romance, right?” you ask.

You betcha. Just an unconventional one. Because things are not what they seem with Gage. He’s got secrets. (Psst… one really big one.)

I hope you enjoy reading about Gage and his past, his motivations and dreams. And I think you’ll find Roxanne grows into his perfect match. But in the meantime he’s got a whole lot of explaining to do….

I’d love to hear from you via my Web site: www.wendyetherington.com. Or my mailing address: P.O. Box 3016, Irmo, SC 29063.

Hope much love and laughter comes your way,

Wendy Etherington

Private Lies

Wendy Etherington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my sisters, Catherine Word and Laura Gurner, for their constant love and support.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

ROXANNE LEWIS’S HEART lurched. “It can’t be.”

Antoinette St. Clair—Toni to all who intended to stay on her good side—lifted her gaze from her plate of salmon. Her eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Rox, but Gage was in the Quarter last night.”

“He’s supposed to be in Chicago.”

“He’s not.”

Tucked in the corner booth of her favorite French Quarter restaurant, away from the curious eyes of the other diners, Roxanne pushed away her nearly untouched crab Louis salad. No one ever accused Toni of being flighty—without acquiring bruises anyway. If she said she saw Gage in New Orleans, she did.

Roxanne fought against the panic fluttering in her stomach, recalling last Saturday night, when she and Gage had eaten a late dinner, when he’d slid his hand along her thigh during dessert…

“Doing what?” she asked quickly, banishing the erotic thoughts.

“Leaning against the wall outside a bar.”

Maybe he’d just come back a day early. Maybe he’d had a late business meeting. He’d had a lot of those lately. “Was he with anyone?”

“No, but he studied the crowd a lot and kept glancing at his watch.” Toni gestured with her fork. “Like he was waiting for someone.”

Someone. Not her. How many times had she wondered what he saw in her? He’d chosen her. He’d proposed to her. And, yet, insecurity lingered. There were parts of Gage he didn’t share with her. She’d tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. He showered her with affection, devotion…loyalty. Just because he was sexy as hell, smart and rich didn’t mean every woman in New Orleans was chasing him.

Only the ones between twenty and sixty.

Roxanne sipped her water and tried to pretend a lump wasn’t blocking her throat. “Do you think he could have been meeting a woman?”

“Maybe. God knows I’ve been tempted.”

Roxanne’s gaze jumped to Toni’s. “To cheat?”

Her friend grinned. “No, to jump Gage Dabon’s bones.”

“Be serious.”

The smile wiped from her face, Toni angled her head. “I am. I’m seriously pissed. Why aren’t you?”

“I am.” No, you’re not, Roxanne. You’re scared. Bone-deep scared. You knew you’d never hold him.

“Stop.” Toni tugged a strand of Roxanne’s long, corkscrew-curly red hair. “You’re quite a catch yourself, Foxy Roxy.”

Roxanne didn’t bother to deny Toni had guessed the direction of her thoughts. They’d been friends too long. “He’d be better off with someone like you,” Roxanne said. “Someone more outgoing.”

“Hell, Rox, we haven’t had near enough wine for a pity party.” She frowned at her water glass. “We haven’t had any wine.” Shrugging, Toni polished off the last bite of her salmon, then handed her plate to a passing waiter. “And, no offense, but Gage’s too tame for me. Hunky, yes. But banks, blue suits and dark ties? No, thanks.”

You haven’t seen that body without the suits. Then the implication of Toni’s words sunk in. “I like tame. There’s nothing wrong with tame.”

“That’s because you grew up with excitement, not Miss Manners lessons twenty-four hours a day.”

Roxanne didn’t want to go anywhere near the subject of Toni’s intimidating, uptight mother. Talk about scary.

Thankfully, Toni tucked a strand of her shaggy blond hair behind her ear and rolled on. “And, speaking of annoying relatives, you have to remember the way Gage stood up under your family’s scrutiny. Any man who’d do that has to want you pretty badly.”

“True.” Roxanne’s father, brother and sister were all cops. Nobel, brave and strong. They stood for the weak and defenseless; they worked tirelessly so other families could be spared the kind of tragedy that Roxanne’s had suffered—her mother dying at the hands of a paroled murderer, who’d sought to punish Roxanne’s father for sending him to prison.

Roxanne had felt abandoned without her mother and had no desire to run into the kind of people who had killed her. Accounting, not law enforcement was her calling. Numbers didn’t lie, numbers made sense…numbers didn’t die.

Wimpy, her sister had once accused. Practical, Roxanne had argued back. Of course, practicality was obviously missing from every Lewis’s genetic makeup except hers.

“So, what’s the plan?” Toni asked, leaning forward, her blue eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“What plan? I’ll ask him what he was doing in the Quarter last night and why he didn’t bother to call me. Or come home.”

Toni tapped her long, acrylic nails—currently painted hot pink with green palm trees and bright yellow suns on each one in anticipation of the busy summer-tourist season—against the table. “Uh-huh. You? Miss Nonconfrontation. You’re going to ask Gage why he lied, who he was meeting.”