Deceptive Innocence by Kyra Davis Page B

okay with lying to your brother and his wife? That’s the real question. I look at him calmly as my heart pounds against my chest. What’s the answer, Lander?
    “Yes, I think we can hold off on letting them know.”
    I have to stuff my mouth with fish to keep myself from grinning ear to ear.
    Travis doesn’t trust his wife. Lander doesn’t trust Travis. And now Lander has just given me what I need to make sure that Travis doesn’t trust Lander either, if he ever did.
    It’s the trifecta of family dysfunction.
    It’s going to make it so much easier to do what I need to do.

chapter ten
    B y the time we leave the restaurant we’ve each had a cocktail and shared the bottle of red. The streets of New York seem to have a warm, hazy glow and the honking of horns and growl of engines almost sound musical. I have to resist the urge to clap my hands in time, adding my own harmony to the city’s symphony. Lander gestures to his limo. “I’ll take you home.”
    I shake my head. “Not necessary.”
    “It’s no trouble.”
    I look up at him, into his perfect smile, at the little crinkles that are just now beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. They make him look . . . kind.
    Again there’s that stab of guilt. Of course, it’s just an illusion. The kindness, the decency . . . It’s a trick of the light, like so many other good things in this world.
    I swallow the moment of weakness as I slip my arms around his neck. “It’s not necessary, because I’m coming home with you .”
    The crinkles deepen as his smile expands, his hands wrapping around me, pulling me into him so I can feel my breasts push into his rib cage, his breath in my hair.
    “I like you, Bell. Why is that?”
    “Because we’re two of a kind, Lander.” It might be true. He hides his ruthlessness as well as I do. His is tucked inside the corners of the friendship he offers and concealed inside his sleeve like a magician’s trick. Now you see it, now you don’t.
    First I’m the upright rich kid who’s a little out of his element in a dive bar, and now I’m the guy beating the shit out of a Hells Angels prick.
    Now you see it, now you don’t.
    I shudder in his arms. I’ve studied, practiced, and prepared for this fight. Lloyd, the PA I’m about to replace, the one who now spends his day in an orange jumpsuit picking up trash on the side of the highway, he’s part of my history now. And there are others, other men I have quietly torn apart in my journey here . . .
    . . . here to this battlefield . . .
    . . . here, wrapped up in Lander’s embrace.
    Lander is the first worthy opponent I’ve ever engaged with. He’s the first one who has surprised me. He’s the first one who’s inspired even an ounce of guilt.
    And weirdly enough, he’s also the first one who has ever made the game fun. Really, really fun.
    “Take me home,” I say again, and he leads me to the limo.
    The driver comes out to open the door for us. He meets my eyes, making me blush. Before Lander I never blushed . . . not since I was a little kid, not since I learned to breathe anger and live with pain. I raise my hand to my own cheek and feel the warmth. There’s something . . . appealing about it, thrilling.
    We get in the limo, the door is closed behind us, and the noises of the city are instantly gone.
    As we drive through the streets, we’re quiet, like the first time we rode in a cab together . . . Was that only yesterday? It’s hard to keep track of these things when you’ve just started a relationship with a man you’ve been studying for years. Time gets all mixed up and confused. You have to remember what you’ve been told versus what you’ve secretly learned on your own. That’s what always trips people up in the movies and on TV.
    I reach over, squeeze Lander’s knee, gaze at him with wide, innocent eyes. The trick is to not overthink. To always stay in the moment. To pretend that you don’t know anything , that you can’t