Best Man for Hire (Entangled Lovestruck) (Front and Center) by Tawna Fenske Read Free Book Online Page B

leaving hers. “So what did you do before lunch with Daniel?”
    “What?”
    “Your lunch with Daniel Craig. What did you do right before that?”
    She frowned, trying to remember. “I think I was with Bradley Cooper. No, wait—”
    “Or how about you tell me your whole day backward? What did you do last, and what did you do right before that, and what did you do before that ?”
    She grinned. “Okay, tricky guy. I can’t do it easily, I’ll admit. That’s a technique?”
    “Yep. Someone who’s rehearsed a lie, or someone who’s making one up on the fly only knows the story one way. But if you try to get him to tell it to you backward or from the middle or from someone else’s point of view, a liar will stumble.”
    “What if the person just has a bad memory?”
    “It’s possible, which is why you’re also watching for visual cues. There’s a difference between someone who’s concentrating on remembering the truth versus someone who’s making up fiction.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “You read someone’s neurolinguistic indicators. For instance, you looked up and to the left when you were speaking. That can be a sign someone is accessing a part of the brain that fabricates fictional responses.”
    “Huh.” She smiled, enjoying the game now that she knew what it was. “Do me again.”
    She watched his throat move as he swallowed. “Metaphorically speaking?”
    “Right,” she said, feeling a hint of heat creeping into her cheeks. “Come on, I want to learn some more of your secret spy-catcher skills.”
    He laughed and carved into his steak. “Okay, tell me another story that’s not true.”
    “About what?”
    “Anything. Just make something up. A total fabrication.”
    “All right.” She took a final bite of her meal, then dabbed her napkin over her lips and set it atop the empty plate. “When I first met you on the beach yesterday, I was physically repulsed by your presence. Like, completely horrified. You’re flabby and out of shape with no muscle tone to speak of, and your eyes are a ridiculous color.” She paused, flicking her gaze over his massive biceps and chiseled chest, before returning to his eyes. Her stomach did a funny little somersault, but Grant didn’t blink. Had she gone too far? His expression was passive, and he said nothing, but he was nodding slightly.
    She kept talking to fill the silence. “And of course, now that I’ve spent a little more time around you, I know you’re a complete and utter dolt. You have no real talents like cooking or woodworking or home renovation, and you don’t seem to have any admirable connection to your family.” She pressed her lips together, but Grant kept nodding, a faint smile on his face.
    “You have all these shelves around your house that are packed with books, which is a total bore—I mean, who likes a man who reads? And I saw the diploma on your wall in the office—magna cum laude?—please, no one likes an intelligent man, especially not one with great big hands and killer abs and a smile that could melt titanium on an ice rink. And don’t even get me started on your complete lack of career ambition or failure to serve your country or community or charity or—”
    “Are you finished?”
    He was watching her with amusement in his eyes, so Anna managed a weak smile, even though the room felt a little spinny. “Actually, no. I could probably keep going awhile.”
    “I don’t doubt it.”
    He leaned closer in his chair, so near now that their knees touched under the table. She could feel his breath rustling her hair, and she smelled something spicy and woodsy on his skin. The sun glinted in his hair, which was clipped close in a military buzz cut. What would it feel like to rub her palm over it?
    He leaned closer, making Anna’s breath catch in her throat. What was it with this man and personal space?
    And why did she want him in hers so very, very badly?
    “Okay then,” Grant said. “You just spoke about two hundred