Lie to Me (3 page)

Sam’s eyes lit up. “You will?” He looked over her shoulder at Damian, a smirk on his face. “Sure. I’ll go home, wash up, and dress. We can have dinner somewhere around the mill. Will you bring Miles?”

Casey knew that the bit about Miles was bait for Damian, but she pretended otherwise. “No, he’s going to stay with my mom until around six,” she said. “I’ll visit you later.”

Sam’s gaze flamed and he bent down. She knew he wanted to kiss her in front of Damian, but it wouldn’t happen. She never let Sam kiss her. It would give him hope where none existed. “See you later,” she said, stepping back.

He stared at her for a moment, before nodding. “Later.” He strode away with heavy steps. “Nice seeing you again, asswipe!”

“The pleasure was all mine, shithead,” Damian called and stared after him until he slammed into his car and drove off.

Casey finally let out a full breath and turned to Damian. “I didn’t think he’d come here. He promised.”

Damian laughed. “Yeah, you can see what his promises are worth. You really going to visit shithead at work?”

“Yeah, I do a lot, because of Miles. I won’t stay long.”

She could feel his muscles tense, but then they relaxed. “Yeah, fine. None of my business.”

“No, it’s not.” And it wasn’t, but what he thought and felt mattered to her.
Casey, you’re really screwed up.
She let out a breath and looked at Damian, taking in his newest battle scars. His nose had stopped bleeding but dried blood crusted the corner of his lip. Casey grabbed her handkerchief from his hand to mop him up, and he actually allowed it, now that Sam wasn’t around to see her fussing over him. She knew he’d never let Sam see her taking care of him. “You all right?”

“Sure.” He grinned and tilted his head back as she wiped his lip. “Were you worried about me?”

“As a caring human being, yes. You were in that accident—will you stop smiling? It’s not funny.”

“Sam isn’t funny at all, I agree. He’s pathetic.”

She frowned and continued to dab at the blood. “He has a point. You’d better not upset Miles.”

Damian stopped smiling and stepped back from her, his eyes darkening. “Are you finished? Am I presentable?”

She nodded, wishing he hadn’t moved backwards.

“My intention is to help Miles, not hurt him.”

“I know.” She moved forward to finish wiping his mouth and then assessed him. His face only sported a few scratches, but his clothes were full of mud and grass. Even so, he looked beautiful, in a manly sort of way. She tried to sound harsh. “You’d better clean up for Miles or you’ll scare him to death.”

He looked down at himself and brushed off his shirt. “I’d scare anyone to death.” He lifted his head and caught her gaze, eyes twinkling.

She tried to stifle a grin and wanted to kick herself when she couldn’t.

Neither could he.

“I’m leaving now,” she said, knowing she needed her space from him. Things were getting way too hot. “See you at seven.”

He nodded, his eyes glowing and eager.

She turned away. When he looked at her with that predatory stare, she couldn’t trust herself.

“I’ll be there tonight, for all the good I can do,” he said. She heard his shoes crunching on the grass, the sound growing softer and softer until she couldn’t hear it at all anymore. After she heard a door slam and a car driving away in the distance, she let herself bask in the wonder of seeing Damian again. It hadn’t been easy asking him back. She knew she was risking it a lot but deep down she knew it was worth it. He’d get through to their son on a level that nobody else could; she was counting on it. Whirling around, she lifted her hands and sniffed. His scent lingered on her skin—that combination of smells that spelled M-A-N. She could still feel the power of his presence, although he’d gone, and couldn’t wait to see him again tonight. The craving for him had returned with a bigger need than ever before.

Heaven help you, girl. You’re in trouble, Casey, and you know it.

Chapter Two

Driving in her expensive car, the woman glanced at the six-carat diamond on her finger, grateful that her father and her ex had been rich. She was rich enough to get by without working. It allowed her to buy expensive rings for herself, because no men seemed inclined to do so these days…her spirits dropped. It must be her figure. Although everyone told her she had a nice shape, she looked in the mirror and saw the obesity.
The damn pills.
She needed to lose weight, now more than ever before.

Trying to get her mind off her girth, she turned on the radio and thought about other aspects of her life. She
did
work, of course, but it was her choice. The work she did could be demanding, but she liked using her highly evolved brain. Still, there were things about work that set her teeth on edge. Like most men, her boss was a jerk, probably the type who played around with his little girl, the way her father had messed with her.

She tried not to think about her father, but he was never far from her mind. When she’d finally told her mother about the things the loser had done to her, she’d thrown him out. Her triumph had been short-lived, as her gutless father had killed himself before going to jail. She’d never trusted a man again, especially rich, powerful men like the Ballantines.

She thought about them, and what they’d done to so many innocent people. She didn’t really care about the men they’d fired, but many women had also lost their jobs. Well, she’d get back at the old man, for sure, and get out of it what she wanted as well. All anyone heard about in Weipeka were the evil Ballantines. That made her goal easy to attain.

She changed her mode of thinking and patted the bottle of pills in the pocket of her jacket. The doctor had said that the pills were the reason she had done so well for so long, and that not taking them was causing her to relapse. The doctor didn’t know what he was talking about. She’d never felt better or more focused in her life. So why didn’t she throw those weight-gaining pills in the garbage?

Because maybe one day she’d need them again…

Damian Ballantine, you really screwed up your life.

As Damian strode along the quiet streets of Weipeka, the leg he’d fractured in eight places, and which had suffered through three surgeries, caused a minor twinge each time he stepped on it.

Damian remembered nothing from his motorcycle accident. Ballantine money had helped save him from needing assistance walking. Ballantine money had helped him walk again. Although it galled him, he knew Alex had garnered funds to pay the best medical professionals, even flying some in from out-of-state, to take care of him. He could walk, as he did now, having left his rental car behind, since his hotel was so close to Casey’s store. Also, he exercised his leg whenever he could to work out the kinks.

Usually he felt good, but when the weather was cold or damp, or if his leg buckled and he fell, the excruciating pain could bring tears to his eyes. He knew he sometimes limped, and tried hard to minimize that, and he worked out every day to strengthen his leg. Once it had been half the size of the other; now they both looked strong. Most of the time, both were strong. The right one was just more vulnerable under certain conditions.

He tried to brush aside thoughts of his injury. Other memories, just as unpleasant, assailed him. Trying not to feel lonely or conspicuous, he jammed his fists tightly into the pockets of his glossy black leather bomber jacket. Most people in Weipeka knew him on sight, and he’d gotten a few varied looks from motorists and pedestrians.

He’d certainly made a name for himself. Some people liked him because he seemed human, vulnerable, unlike his father and Sam, who ruled the town. Others looked at him with disdain, as a man who’d had all the advantages and had thrown them away for booze. Still others felt that a Ballantine was a Ballantine, all of them evil, himself the laughingstock drunk of the litter.

Hypocrites!
Damian held his head up and took longer strides. These were the same people who had attended his family’s frequent parties; the same folks who had patted him on the head as a boy and offered him a taste of their liquor. True, they’d done the same to Sam and Alex, and his brothers had declined, but, hell, he’d liked the taste from early on. By twelve, he’d already started stealing liquor from the bar. Maybe the craving wouldn’t have happened, at least so soon, if he hadn’t grown up around so much drinking.

No time for regrets. He kept moving, tensing as he thought of Miles, the child he’d left behind. If anybody ever offered Miles a drink, he’d kill them. He thought back to his middle school and high school years—all those parties; all the easy access to booze. It had caused him trouble. He’d gotten into fights, blown off school, and slept with one too many girls because of his drunkenness. Then he’d met Casey in college, and she’d swept him off his feet with her enchanting looks, sharp intelligence, and stability. In her, he saw everything that he admired in a person; everything he was not.

She’d seen something in him too—maybe her own playful, naughty side. Soon the two of them had fallen in love, him, head over heels. Although he’d known she loved him deeply, he felt he’d loved her more. When she got pregnant with Miles, they’d run off and married. At the last minute, in their Vegas hotel room, she’d almost changed her mind about the marriage. His drinking worried her. He swore he’d quit. At the moment, he’d meant it. They’d married.

Damian stopped at a street corner and waited for the light to turn green. He saw Casey’s store down the block. He slowed his pace. Why had it taken a motorcycle accident in another state for him to quit? He’d already lost everything he’d cared about by then. But, as he thought about Ayres, Alabama, he felt comforted. He’d built a new life there. He had his home remodeling business, his friends, his AA group, and a woman who loved him.

Damian stopped before a heavy wooden door at the side of the music store. He’d been there before, but never upstairs. When he stepped inside, stale, warm air hit him in the face as he passed into a narrow, dim hallway.

“Hi, Damian.”

His body jolted. “Casey! I didn’t expect you to be waiting for me.” He tried to compose himself. The thin hallway forced her to stand close to him, damn! She looked and smelled so sexy that he felt a tightening behind his zipper. Tall and lean with sharp features, luscious breasts, long chocolate-colored hair and matching eyes, he thought her the most attractive woman he’d ever seen. She looked as regal as a queen and her flowery scent reminded him of other, better days…and nights. She looked delicious in a tight white camisole, and denim Capris. Her calves and ankles were tanned and shaped to perfection. “I like those clothes you’re wearing, babe.”

She blushed adorably. He grinned.

“Flatterer,” she dismissed. “These clothes are nothing special. On the other hand, you dressed nice for Miles.” Her warm voice caressed him, like hot chocolate. “Love that leather choker. Nice touch.”

Damian shifted to his leg that didn’t hurt him. He glanced down at his clothes. He’d thrown on a powder blue polo shirt, leaving the buttons undone, and a pair of navy cargo pants. He felt a little silly now—he’d also splashed on the aftershave that gave him a smoky, earthy scent; the one Casey had always liked. He hadn’t dressed for Miles at all. Miles would likely hate him no matter what he wore. No, he’d done it to impress Casey. If he couldn’t have her, he wanted her to at least desire him, the way he did her.
Childish.
“I didn’t want Miles’ first impression of me to be as a slob.”

She smiled and his head reeled.

Damian suddenly felt a sharp pain in his leg and lifted it for a moment.

“You all right?”

“What?”
Damn!

“Your leg.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “I’m fine.” To get the topic off his leg, he rushed out, “What did Miles say about seeing me? Are you waiting out here to warn me?”

Casey’s brow furrowed. “He ran into his room, shouted that I shouldn’t tell lies, and slammed the door. When he finally came out, he wouldn’t talk to me. I wanted to share the reaction with you before you go upstairs.”

“Thanks, except I don’t have a clue what that means.”

“It means he’s upset and pissed. So that’s what you’re walking into.”

“Great.”

“He needs to know you love him.”

“Of course I love him.” He thought of the child he used to toss into the air and catch.

“You didn’t come back, so he doesn’t know.”

She was right, as usual.

She met his stare boldly. “For a long time, I hoped you’d come back to us.” She shrugged. “You never did, so I gave up. I only got Dad to try to lure you here because of our son.”

“And Mr. Congressman must have been awfully concerned about Miles to help you,” he said, putting a palm against the wall behind her head, feeling shaken by his reaction to her closeness. His damn zipper… “He didn’t like me very much.”

“Do you blame him?”

“No. I don’t like me very much either.” If this continued, this closeness without her backing off or sending him signals to leave her alone, he’d kiss her again…