The Most Expensive Lie of All by Michelle Conder Read Free Book Online Page B

a bully like you.’
    ‘I didn’t bully you, chiquita . You were asking for it.’
    ‘Don’t call me that.’
    Cruz rubbed his jaw and scowled. ‘What?’
    ‘You know what.’
    His brain must still have been on a go-slow because he couldn’t recall what he’d called her. The thought irked him enough that he said, ‘Maybe you should think about the way you act and dress if you don’t want men thinking you’re free and easy in bed.’
    ‘Oh, my God. Are you serious?’
    ‘Silky dresses that outline every curve, killer heels and just-out-of-bed hair all tell a man what’s what.’
    Fascinated, he watched her pull herself up to her full five feet and four inches—six in the heels.
    ‘Any man who judges me on the way I look isn’t worth a dime. You and Billy—’
    Cruz raised his hand, cutting short her dramatic tirade. ‘I am not like him,’ he snarled.
    ‘Keep telling yourself that, Cruz.’ She tossed her head at him. ‘It might help you sleep better at night.’
    ‘I sleep just fine,’ he grated. ‘But if you should decide to change your high and mighty little mind about my offer I’ll be staying at the Boston International until tomorrow morning.’
    ‘Don’t hold your breath.’ She reefed open the stall door and stomped past him. ‘I’d have to be crazy to accept an offer like that.’
    Cruz ran a shaky hand through his hair and listened to the staccato sound of her high heels hammering her ire against the stone floor.
    Her words, ‘don’t hold your breath’ rang out in his head. Hadn’t he told his brother the same thing a few hours ago?
    Hell . If he had, he couldn’t remember why.

CHAPTER FOUR
    ‘D AMMIT . ’ A SPEN CURSED as her hair caught around the button she had just wrenched open on the front of her dress. ‘Stupid, idiotic hair.’
    She yanked at it and winced when she heard the telltale crackle that indicated that she’d left a chunk behind. Then the pain set in and she rubbed her scalp.
    God, she was angry. Furious. She pulled at the rest of her buttons and stopped when she caught sight of herself in the free-standing mirror that stood in the corner of her bedroom. Slowly she walked towards it.
    An ordinary female figure stared back. An ordinary female figure with a flushed face and a wild mane of horrible hair. And tender lips. She put her fingers to them. They looked the same as they always did, but they felt softer. Swollen. And there was a slight graze on her chin where Cruz’s stubble had scraped her skin.
    Her pelvis clenched at the remembered pleasure of his mouth on hers. He hadn’t even kissed her like that eight years ago. Then he’d been softer, almost tender. Today he’d kissed her as if he hadn’t been able to help himself. As if he’d wanted to devour her. And never before had she kissed someone like that in return. Thank God Gypsy Blue had tried to knock some sense into them.
    She had no idea why she’d acted like that with a man who had insulted her so badly. Maybe it was the fact that seeing him again had knocked her sideways. Somehow he had dazzled her the way he’d used to dazzle the women at polo matches. He was so attractive the crowds had always doubled when he had played, because all the wives and girlfriends had insisted that they simply loved polo and had to spend the whole day watching it. Really, they’d just mooned over him when he’d been on the field and drunk champagne and chatted the rest of the time. He’d dazzled her friends too.
    Unconsciously she licked her tender lips and felt his imprint on them. Really she felt his imprint everywhere—and especially in the space between her thighs.
    Heaven help her! She would have had sex with him. Had inadvertently wanted to have sex with him. The realisation of that alone was enough to shock her. She hated sex!
    So why was she currently reliving Cruz’s wicked kisses over and over like a hopeless teenager? He hadn’t kissed her out of any real passion—he’d kissed her to make a point