Liar's Moon by Heather Graham

I’ll tell him.” He smiled very politely at her and turned to Jamie. “Your sister—”
    “We had an affair,” Tracy blurted out. God! She didn’t want Leif telling the story. Not from his point of view.
    His lashes shielded his eyes; it still appeared that he was secretively smiling, as if she had played exactly into his hands.
    He looked at her then and lifted his hands innocently. “Tracy, I was just going to say that we had a little tiff at the party and your father and mother’s family wound up involved.”
    Jamie was staring back and forth between them. “Well?” He demanded.
    Tracy realized that her fingers were wound into the snowy starch-ironed tablecloth. She was shaking horribly and still so angry that her head seemed to ring. Her vision was blurred and something seemed to burn in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to strangle Leif. She wanted to do something—anything!—to erase the cool satisfaction that touched his smoky eyes and grim smile.
    “Well, what!” she snapped at Jamie.
    “Did you or didn’t you have an affair?”
    “I’ll let Tracy answer that,” Leif said.
    She didn’t really intend to do anything violent; it was just that her fingers were so tightly wound into that cloth. She must have jerked from emotion and not logic—but whatever her intent, the outcome was tremendous. The cloth wrenched away—and the steaming chafing dishes filled with Jamie’s carefully planned breakfast goodies all went flying toward Leif.
    He was up in a second, leaping away, so that only one of the silver dishes flew against his thigh. Coffee, silverware, and plates went everywhere. Jamie yelped and backed away—and stared at Tracy with a certain amount of awe and amazement.
    “You did have an affair, huh?”
    Tracy barely heard him; she was staring at the utter disaster she hadn’t meant to create. And then she stared from the chaos on the floor upward and into Leif’s eyes.
    He didn’t say a word. He just looked at her with a cool gray assessment that was somehow more terrible than any oaths he could have flung her way.
    He stepped over a chafing dish and came around the table, and she just watched him, unable to move. And then it was too late to move, because he was smiling at her distantly, but his hands were upon her shoulders like iron fists.
    “Frankly, Tracy, I can’t understand why you get so angry over the past. I was the one taken for an idiot. However, I’m glad you had your little temper tantrum now—it could be lethal later. And it’s just as well—it was important that Jamie know now what happened for the same reason.”
    “Why?” Tracy whispered thickly, thinking she would give anything to go back just five minutes—just long enough to undo this disaster! Anything to avoid his hold on her now and his eyes probing into her soul.
    “Because you are coming to Connecticut with us.”
    “No—I’m not.”
    “Sure you are, Tracy. Arthur is going to come, and Audrey is going to come—and Ted is going to bring her.”
    She shook her head vehemently. “They’ll never come, Leif—you’re crazy! Not after—”
    “Oh, don’t kid yourself. Your mother and I always got along fine. She called me and apologized after everything. You didn’t know that? Well, it doesn’t really matter. They’re all coming.”
    “I still don’t believe you! There’s nothing you could have said to convince them all to come to a memorial service for Jesse!”
    His gaze fell over the mess on the floor; he stared at Jamie, who was still surveying them both in stunned silence. Then he smiled coolly back at Tracy.
    “Yes, there was something. It worked like a charm.”
    “What—what are you talking about?” Tracy asked uneasily. She tried to wrench free from his hold, but it was too firm—her effort went barely noticed. Then he quite suddenly released her, but only to set his arms about her and pull her tightly to his chest with his chin resting atop her head, his hands locked just below