Lovers and Liars by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page A

removing her glasses. His lips came down on hers. “You are so hot,” he whispered, one hand roaming down her body, pausing over her small, jutting breasts. “Hot, sexy.”
    As he kissed her his hand descended until it was between her legs. Ignoring her dress, he palmed her. She whimpered. With one hand he unzipped his pants and pulledhis swollen cock out, taking her hand and firmly implanting himself in her grip. “That’s it, baby, that’s it.”
    “Oh my!” she gasped.

9
    T he water was steaming hot.
    Melody lay back in the tub, closing her eyes. It felt so good to unwind, to sink deeper and deeper into the hot, soothing water, to release all the tension and pent-up energy of the day. And, God, what a day. She thought she had placated Price. The man probably wouldn’t blackball Jack. But he probably would badmouth him all over Hollywood. Jesus. One thing was sure. Price would never direct another Jackson Ford film.
    Jack.
    Even with her eyes closed, she saw him in perfect detail. Thick, brownish hair, wildly shot with gold. Green eyes, long-lashed, crinkled at the corners from too much smiling. High cheekbones in a classic face. That killer grin. She sighed as her insides melted and an old, familiar ache ran down her body.
    Jack filled her days. He was her business.
    Jack filled her nights. He was her lover.
    In her dreams.
    Melody sighed again. She wondered how the US interview was going. She hoped Jack was behaving himself. She didn’t feel like facing another day playing cajoler and umpire with an irate reporter. One who could do far more damage in far less time than Price. Please, Jack, please, just behave.
    Fortunately the reporter was a woman. Even if she wasfat and fifty, Jack would be charming—unless she pushed him too hard the wrong way.
    Melody stepped out of the tub. She tried not to look at her body. That was easy because she didn’t have her round glasses on. She was short, with small shoulders and small hips and huge breasts. Men loved her breasts. They also loved her ass. Compared to the smallness of the rest of her, it was definitely oversized. She considered herself fat.
    She also disliked her face. It was plain. Worse. Square. If someone was unkind, they might call her horse-faced. Her eyes were very blue, almost purple, but small, wide-set, and she hid them behind her glasses, which made her face seem less square. A serious, no-nonsense face. One that did not go with her body. Only her incredibly thick red hair went with her body. And on top of everything else she had freckles. Not a lot. But enough. Everywhere.
    Jack had never made a pass at her in all the years she had known him. She knew he never would.
    In the beginning it was because she wasn’t his type. Diane was his type. A nineteen-year-old model with a nothing figure. No breasts, no ass, no thighs—nothing. Tall, coltish. A perfect, breathtaking face. Lots and lots of brown hair, so dark it was almost black. Blue eyes, black lashes. One of a million coltish brunettes that Jack took to bed.
    Melody slipped into a T-shirt that came to her knees. She smirked unkindly because Diane had been furious that Jack couldn’t see her until later, and she had broken the date instead. Too bad. She was due to be dropped soon, anyway. Most of Jack’s women lasted a night. Some lasted a week or two. Usually on a shoot or on location, like now. Melody knew it was convenient. She knew Jack was one of the horniest men alive.
    But she understood him. She knew—instinctively at first, and now with the insight of years of friendship—why Jack preferred children and bimbos. He was afraid. Afraid to care about a woman, afraid to love. It was actually very sad. It was because of his mother. Melody knew he made light of her desertion, but she could read past that. She knewthat somewhere deep inside he had never gotten over it. He would probably never love any woman.
    Was the woman who had been calling actually Jack’s mother?
    If so, Melody was