Free Sweet Liar by Jude Deveraux Page A

through his notes a woman named Maxie is mentioned.” He looked up at her, studying her.
    â€œMaxie was Barrett’s mistress.” When Samantha didn’t jump out of her skin at this news, as he was hoping she would, he leaned back on the bed and put his hands behind his head. “I think Maxie and your grandmother are one and the same.”
    When Samantha didn’t say anything, just kept cleaning out the dish of mousse as though he’d said nothing, he looked back at her. She was looking sleepy again. “Well?” he asked impatiently.
    She put down the empty dessert bowl. “Are you finished? Have you told me what you wanted to tell me? You think my grandmother was the mistress of a gangster. Okay, you’ve told me, now go.”
    For a moment, he could only blink at her. “You don’t have an opinion on this?”
    â€œI have an opinion on you,” she said softly. “You have been reading too many of those gangster books. I didn’t know my grandmother, but she was a regulation grandmother, cookie baking, that sort of thing. And her name was Gertrude. She was not a gangster’s moll—is that the right term?” She put her hand up when he started to interrupt her. “And besides that, what does it matter if she was? Now will you leave?”
    Rolling over to his side, he frowned at her. “It matters because I think your grandmother was in love with Barrett and bore him a child. Tony Barrett just may be your real grandfather.”
    At that Samantha very slowly, very carefully, set the tray to one side, got out of bed, and walked to the door. “Out,” she said as though talking to someone who didn’t understand English. “Get out. In the morning I will find another place of residence.”
    As though she hadn’t spoken, Mike rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Your father thought Barrett was his real father.”
    â€œI don’t want to hear anymore,” she said louder. “I want you to leave.”
    â€œI’m not going to leave,” he said without looking at her.
    Samantha didn’t say a word, but if he wouldn’t leave, she would. Stepping out of the room, she started down the stairs.
    Mike caught her in his arms before she reached the bottom of the stairs. She struggled against him, but he held her easily, his arms about her body, her back against his front, and as she struggled against him, Mike felt his desire for her growing. He could feel her body against his, her hips, her breasts, her thighs, all touching him. “Be still, Sam,” he whispered, sounding desperate, which he was. “Please, please be still.”
    There was something odd in his tone that made Samantha stop struggling and go perfectly still in his arms.
    â€œI’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice ragged, his lips near her ear lobe. “You have nothing to fear from me. All of this was your father’s idea, not mine. I told him he should ask you to help me find Maxie, not force you to do it.” Still holding her close to him, he moved his face to touch her neck, not kissing her, but feeling her softness, smelling her skin.
    With a sharp jerk, Samantha pulled away from him, then leaned back against the stair rail. Her heart was pounding in her breast, her breathing deep and irregular. When she looked at him, she saw that his heart was pounding too and his skin was flushed.
    â€œYou want to sit down somewhere and talk about this?”
    â€œNo,” she answered. “I don’t want to talk about anything, nor do I want to hear anything you have to say. I don’t want to hear your made-up stories about my father or my grandmother or about anything else for that matter. All I want to do is leave this house and never see you again.”
    â€œNo,” he said, pleading, but there was something else in his eyes. “I can’t allow you to leave. Your father gave me the