Free Tell Me a Story (The Story Series Book 1) by Tamara Lush Page A

was good. Practiced, probably, in seduction. Don’t fall for him so fast, I steeled myself. This seemingly perfect man must have some secret lurking, somewhere. But I mostly relaxed, knowing he’d be out of town for three days and I could regain my equilibrium. When he dropped me off in his sleek, silver Mercedes, he stopped the car in front of my little bungalow and climbed out to open my door.
    We stood on my porch, and he cradled my head in his hands. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the other night,” he whispered, then leaned in for a kiss. His lips were soft and his kiss-rhythm slow, and I slid my hands over his chest, wishing I could strip off his red T-shirt. Electricity howled through my body when he stopped to look into my eyes, brushing his thumb over my lips.
    “Dinner at my place when I return?”
    I nodded, mesmerized.
    The next few days were a blur. A dozen red roses-—sent by Caleb—greeted me at the bookstore, along with a notice that the city council had set a time and day for the hearing about the redevelopment of our block.
    “Why don’t you ask Caleb his advice?” Sarah asked. “He probably knows everyone. Didn’t you say he lobbies politicians?”
    I shook my head. “I don’t want to get him involved. I don’t need his advice.” I also didn’t want Caleb to know that my business and life were so dismal that if the bookstore closed, I’d be destitute within a few short months. Growing up poor, with parents who needed food stamps to supplement our family’s meager income, meant that I preferred to rely on myself and not on someone’s charity.
    I wanted to succeed or fail on my own terms.
    On Wednesday, I had an initial consult with a lawyer. She was decent enough, I guess, and asked me a ton of questions about the building and the businesses in it, then promised to do some research.
    “I’m not sure what we can do, if anything. Give me a few days,” she said.
    Not exactly what I’d wanted to hear.
    I strode back into the bookstore, the bile in my throat rising with each step. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caleb, standing in the religion section with a book on Buddhism in his hand.
    “Emma.”
    I smiled. He was a welcome diversion to a frustrating day. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his smooth cheek.
    “I was talking to Sarah and she said you had a meeting. I wasn’t sure if I was going to catch you. I just returned from Miami and wanted to make plans for dinner.”
    A jolt of fear went through me as I wondered if Sarah had told Caleb about the lawyer and my reason for meeting with her.
    “Um, sure. Yes.”
    Caleb leaned into my ear and nibbled, sending shivers through me. “Good. I’ve got a new vegetarian recipe and the perfect dessert planned.” He squeezed my ass, kissed me quickly goodbye, and left.
    I wasted no time in finding Sarah at the counter, making little review cards for books. “Did you tell Caleb where I was?”
    “Relax. No.”
    I let out a breath.
    “You should explain your situation to him, though. It’s pretty damn clear he’s smitten. He waited here for a half-hour, talking about Miami and a book by Edwidge Danticat that you gave him. I’m sure he’d help.”
    “Absolutely not.”
    “Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves,” she said softly.
    “Thank you for the Emily Brontë quote. And don’t you even dare tell Laura about any of this, if you’re seeing her soon. This has nothing to do with pride.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “Yes. It does. You don’t want to let him see the imperfect Emma. You only want him to see the perfect Emma.”
    “If you weren’t my best friend, I’d tell you to fuck off.”
    “You can tell me to fuck off, but you know it’s true. I’ve known you for—what, fifteen years?”
    I shot her a smirk. We’d met freshmen year in college. Sarah was the only person I’d let into my life, my past. She knew everything about me.
    “I know the image you want to project. Hell, it makes sense,