Sweet Liar by Jude Deveraux Page B

room, “Please don’t let her be wearing white.”

    Samantha came awake slowly, reluctantly opening her eyes against the bright light and trying to focus. For a moment, she lay in bed blinking at the light, gradually coming awake enough to realize she was seeing her landlord standing over her, a tray in his hands.
    â€œWhat are you doing in here?” she asked, frowning and pulling herself into a sitting position, but there was no real fear in her voice or even much interest. The truth was, she was so tired her bones ached and nothing could make her feel very much.
    â€œI brought you something to eat,” he answered, setting the tray down on the desk by the window. “It’s food from one of the best restaurants in New York.”
    Samantha rubbed her eyes. “I don’t want anything to eat.” As she came awake more fully, she looked through the living room toward the closed door of her apartment. “How did you get in here?”
    Smiling as though it were all a great joke, Mike held up his key.
    Samantha pulled the covers up to her neck. With her wakefulness was coming anger. “You lied to me! You said you didn’t have a key. You said—” Her eyes widened as she pressed herself back against the headboard. “If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”
    At that moment, an ambulance went down Lexington Avenue, and the ear-piercing screech through the half-open window was so loud it practically made the curtains shake. “Think anyone would hear you?” Mike asked, still smiling at her.
    Samantha was now, indeed, beginning to feel, and the panic rising in her showed on her face. Trying to remain calm, she folded the blanket back and started to get out of bed, but Mike caught her arm.
    â€œLook, Sam,” he said, his voice pleading. “I’m sorry I somehow gave you the impression that I’m a sex pervert. I’m not. I kissed you because—” With a boyish grin, he stopped speaking. “Maybe we better not go into that. What I want from you is more important than sex. Maybe not nearly as nice, but in the long run, more important. I came in here to talk to you about Tony Barrett. I want you to get me in to see him.”
    Abruptly, Samantha stopped trying to pull away and looked at him as though he were crazy. “Would you get your hand off of me?”
    â€œOh, sure,” he said. He’d meant only to hold on to her elbow to keep her from running from the room, which she looked like she might do, but instead, he had spread his fingers and was moving his hand up her arm. She was by no means the most desirable-looking woman he had ever seen, because she looked as though she hadn’t had a bath in days, her hair was greasy and tangled, there were black circles of fatigue under her eyes, and her lovely mouth had a downward turn to it. But in spite of the look of her, Mike had never in his life wanted to climb into bed with a woman as much as he wanted to with her. Maybe spring was getting to him. Maybe he needed to spend a long weekend in bed with one of Daphne’s friends. Or maybe he needed Samantha.
    Releasing her, he stepped back from the bed. “I think we need to talk.”
    When Samantha looked at the bedside clock and saw that it was ten minutes after eleven at night, she took a deep breath. “The first time I met you, you nearly attacked me. Tonight you used a key that you swore you didn’t have to unlawfully, not to mention discourteously, enter my apartment in the middle of the night. Now you ask me about a man I’ve never heard of. And you ask why I should be upset. Mr. Taggert, have you ever heard the word privacy? ”
    â€œI’ve heard lots of words,” he said, dismissing her comment as though his being in her private apartment meant nothing. Instead of considering her rights, he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing her.
    Samantha again started to get out of the bed. “This is