Lies Lovers Tell (8 page)

Maya’s stomach churned as she waited for Zeke in his office. She’d been a bundle of nerves all weekend and, after deciding to put Sean on hold until further notice, sexually deprived as well. She didn’t know how long she’d go without seeing him; she just knew that since seeing his ass in Sam Walters’s bed, the trip to San Diego was off. He’d instantly felt something was up. Maya frowned as she remembered their conversation.

“Just like that, you want us to take a break from each other. And I’m supposed to believe it’s work? Come on, Macy. You hate your job, have absolutely no commitment to being a secretary, and I’m supposed to believe that that’s come between us?”

“You can believe what you want,” Maya had responded. “All I know is I can’t go to San Diego, and I can’t see you for the next whatever because like I said, there’s a huge conference coming up that’s requiring my undivided attention.”

“What’s this conference’s name, Macy? What’s this
conference
look like, huh?”

Like Sam Walters
, Maya had wanted to say. But she held back. She’d learned from Zeke to keep one’s cards close to the chest. In time Sean would know what she knew. But not yet.

“I’m glad you asked to meet with me, Maya. I was going to have you come in first thing this morning anyway.” Zeke’s demeanor was jovial as he walked into the office, bringing Maya back to the present. Instead of going to his desk, he walked over to the conference area. “Have a seat over here, will you?”

Maya walked from where she sat in front of Zeke’s desk over to the conference area. The usual spray of exotic flowers had been moved to a back wall credenza. An urn of coffee and a tray of pastries, bagels, and croissants were also displayed.

“We’re having a meeting?” Maya asked. She almost always came prepared to take notes but had been so focused on telling Zeke what she knew that she’d forgotten to bring her laptop. It had taken her all weekend to decide that he should know; she wanted to get it over with.

“I have some important information to share with you,” she continued without waiting for an answer from Zeke. “I think I’ve uncovered some things about Sam Walters.”

Zeke leaned back in his chair. “Oh?”

“Yes. I believe I have concrete proof that Sam Walters is conducting extensive investigations into the players of L.A.’s real estate market, and it makes perfect sense that B&A is one of the players being investigated. Now, I don’t know if the Rosenthal Group is behind it, but I—”

Just then the intercom sounded. “Hold that thought,” Zeke said. “Yes, Ester?”

“Mr. Brennan, your nine-thirty appointment is here.”

“Have Jade bring him back,” Zeke said. “Wait a moment, Maya. I’ve just hired someone to help with this whole Sam Walters thing. The information you have could be beneficial to him as well.”

Jade tapped lightly on Zeke’s office door before coming into the room. Zeke stood as his hire came around the corner. Jade nodded quietly and made her exit. Maya had walked to the credenza to pour a cup of coffee and missed the dagger eyes Jade cut at her back.

“Maya Jamison, I’d like you to meet someone introduced to me over the weekend.”

Maya turned with a smile on her face.

“Sean Wynn.”

Had Maya not become paralyzed into immobilization, she would have dropped her coffee mug.
Sean!

“Sean, this is my right-hand woman, Maya Jamison.”

Sean’s face showed absolutely no recognition as he took a couple of steps toward her. “Nice to meet you,” he said cordially, his back to Zeke. But his eyes blazed.

“N-n-nice to meet you.” Maya had never stammered a day in her life. There was a first time for everything.

The stammer didn’t escape Zeke’s notice. He glanced briefly between Maya and Sean before asking Sean if he’d like coffee. “Maya, do you mind?” he asked.

“Not at all.” Maya forced herself to regain her composure. She called upon thirty years of discipline and then called upon another thirty she hadn’t yet lived to force the tremor from her voice. “Cream and sugar, Mr. Wynn?”

“No, black is fine, Ms. Jamison, correct?”

Maya prayed she could get the coffee in the mug. She gripped the urn as if it were a lifeline.
Deep breaths
, she told herself. The coffee poured into the mug perfectly.
Breathe out.

Sean joined her at the credenza. “Here, let me help you with that.”

“No, no, I’ve got it.” She handed Sean the mug with a barely shaking hand, then forced herself to look him in the eye. “And please, call me Maya.”

“Maya? Is that M-A-Y-A?”

“Correct.”

“Hmm. I met someone recently with a similar sounding name. Marcy, Myra…it was a casual meeting. The name escapes me now. At any rate, please, call me Sean.”

It was only because Maya knew Sean that she detected the sarcasm underlying his seemingly innocent comment.

Maya and Sean joined Zeke at the conference table. “I had the privilege of meeting Sean this weekend,” Zeke restated. “The moment he told me he was a private investigator here from London, I knew I wanted him on my team.”

“Oh,” Maya said. “You’re a private investigator?”
What were you investigating in Sam Walters’s bed on Friday?

Sean looked at her with smoldering intensity. “One of the best,” he said casually before taking a sip of coffee. After drinking, he rolled his tongue across his lips, an action not lost on its intended.
A lowly secretary, huh? Low enough to suck my dick for information? What kind of game are you playing?

Maya forced her eyes away from Sean’s tongue. Her mind didn’t cooperate, replaying the “sexual investigation” conversation of a week ago. And then right after that thought, another:
Where else has your tongue been?
The thought of Sean and Sam Walters being intimate cooled her rising libido.

“I’m hiring Sean specifically to check out Sam Walters,” Zeke went on. He turned to Sean. “Maya here is quite the multitasker. Because in addition to her myriad of responsibilities pertaining to our multi-billion-dollar portfolio, I’ve had her on, shall we say, special assignment for the past month.”

Sean looked at Maya. “And what assignment is that?” he asked pointedly.

Zeke smiled. “Why don’t you tell him, Maya?”

“Yes, Maya. I have a feeling you’d tell the story much better than Zeke. Am I right, Zeke? Is she a great storyteller?”

“Maya’s a skillful wordsmith,” Zeke agreed. Both men then turned to Maya, and waited.

Maya’s navy blue Chanel suit matched the outer calm she conveyed. Inside, she was feeling so many emotions she couldn’t have named them all if asked. She was shocked that Sean was sitting in Zeke’s office, astounded that he’d lied about his name (
as did you
, she thought, but what had that to do with the price of eggs?), perplexed that Sean would tell Zeke his true profession, amazed that Zeke would trust this stranger so quickly, pissed because of Sean’s alluding to having forgotten her name and scared as “h” to tell Sean about Martha! She’d wanted so many times to share with him all that she was going through, to tell him about Martha and Macy. This was
not
the scenario she’d envisioned. And as it were, she wasn’t the only one with secrets.

Maya realized the room was silent and two very powerful-looking men were waiting for her to speak.
You’re in hot water anyway, Maya, might as well swim into the deep end and get totally scalded.

“I’ve been,” Maya began tentatively, and then cleared her throat, squared her shoulders, and spoke clearly. “I’ve been working in Sam Walters’s employ as a part-time housekeeper.”

Sean coughed. He’d been taking a sip of coffee and when Maya said she worked for Sam, he almost choked. “You, a maid,” he said, still coughing.

“As I’m sure Zeke has told you, it’s our belief that there is more to Sam Walters than meets the eye, or the paper as it were, and Zeke arranged for me to become a part of his household in hopes of digging up additional information. Are you all right?”

Ignoring her, Sean said to Zeke, “You see, already her oral skills have me all choked up.” And then to Maya, “Could I have some water?”

“Sure,” Maya answered in a cheerful voice, all the while seething at Sean’s reference to her oral ability. She went to the credenza, filled a large crystal goblet, brought it back to Sean, and resisted the almost overwhelming desire to throw it in his face.

Sean brushed his fingers over hers as he took the glass. “Thank you, Maya.”

Maya refused to show she was flustered, but it was as if she could
feel
Sean’s fury even as she felt the heat of his touch. And then it hit her: Sean might have heard her run away on Friday.
Is that possible?
She looked him in the eye, trying desperately to read what was in the mind behind them. She knew the lie she’d offered Cecilia on not showing up had been flimsy, that her cousin had gone into labor and there’d been no one else to drive her to the hospital, but it was the best Maya could do at the time. That she remembered to call at all, after seeing dimples and perfectly placed moles, was a victory in itself. But was that it, she thought?
If he heard me in the house, in Sam’s room…

“Are you all right?” It was Sean’s turn to ask the question.

“Yes, Maya,” Zeke said, a hint of irritability in his voice. “You seem a bit preoccupied.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Brennan,” Maya responded.
Get it together, Maya!
She needed to shift the power in this conversation, get on the offensive, and knew she had the ammunition to do it. Sean knew Sam, but what was the best way to fire the weapon? Guns backfired, and so could ill-timed dispensation of information. She’d have to tread carefully, but tread she must.

“I was just thinking, Mr. Brennan, of the information I had to share with you about Sam Walters. It also involves a private investigator.” She resumed command of her voice and control of her demeanor.

“I’d like to finish hearing the story about your housekeeping,” Sean said calmly. “If that’s okay,” he added, to Zeke.

“We’ve got time,” Zeke said.

Again, all eyes were on Maya. “There’s not much to tell. I worked part-time, mopped floors, made beds, tried to find something on Sam Walters that’s not in our files.”

“How long have you worked there?” Sean asked.

“Four weeks.”

“And what exactly did you look for?”

“Something to confirm or deny that Sam Walters is who he says he is. His is a billion-dollar company that has flown under the real estate radar. He comes out of nowhere with money to burn. He wants to build an alliance with B&A. We want to know everything there is to know about him. Especially what he doesn’t want us to find out,” she added, an unblinking stare aimed at Sean as she did so.

“I told you I know Sam Walters, right?” Sean asked Zeke, effectively ending Maya’s attempt at one-upmanship.

Zeke leaned forward. “No, you didn’t.”

“I don’t know him well, but our paths crossed a couple times in London. I also knew he was in Los Angeles. And how do I know this? Because the Rosenthal Group hired me to check him out.”

“Now, this is an interesting development,” Zeke said, his years of experience at playing the game telling him he’d just trumped Rosenthal’s ace with a joker. “Whatever the Rosenthal Group is paying you, we’ll double it, triple if necessary. I get the feeling you’re a highly intelligent man, Sean Wynn. One who will be able to figure out the truth for himself, and discover where the real corruption lies in L.A.’s downtown building boom.”

“I’d be happy to discuss your offer over lunch,” Sean said. His smug glance toward Maya was imperceptible. But the smile he delivered at her shocked expression was open and honest.
Your move, baby. You’re trying to play the player who invented the game.

Hours later, Sean still seethed from the day’s revelations: that not only was Macy Williams Maya Jamison, but she was also his homely housemaid Martha Jones! He’d been shocked to turn the corner and see Macy in Zeke’s office, and flabbergasted when he found out she’d also spent hours cleaning his home. Sean’s highly honed investigative skills had made him a very wealthy man; how had he missed this massive deception occurring not only right under his nose, but in his bed?

Had this been her motive the night they met? Did she already know who he was then? Had she planned to try and coax him into Brennan’s camp all along? Granted, he remembered being the aggressor in their meeting, but who’s to say she hadn’t planted herself in his path, purposely irresistible in that silky red dress and fuck-me pumps. And if there had been no ulterior motive, why had she lied? Why had she introduced herself as Macy Williams, and why hadn’t she revealed her true identity after their relationship continued? Sean didn’t know the answers to those questions, but he did know this: If she’d used herself as bait, it had been the best he’d ever tasted. He’d jumped on her line and gotten reeled in faster than a striped bass at a fishing contest. And truth be told, she held him captive still.

But not for long. His wildly fluctuating emotions were why he’d purposely trivialized their relationship in the meeting by calling it casual, and why he’d kept his strictly professional demeanor firmly in place. They were also why he hadn’t answered her call, or listened to the voice mail he knew she’d left. Today’s encounter had thrown him for a major loop; he needed time to sort out his feelings, separate fact from fiction, and get his head together. Nobody, least of all a woman, was going to make him lose control.

But more than anger, Sean felt hurt. Maya had transfixed him like no other woman before her ever had. For the first time in his thirty-eight years, he imagined spending the rest of his life with someone, growing old with someone…someone like Maya. The man in him wanted to demand she come over and tell him the truth. No one could deny the intense connection between them; there was no way he would believe their love affair had been a total lie. But the investigator in him hesitated, for more reason than the deep affection he felt for her. Whether she knew it or not, she was caught up in a high stakes situation, a game with unsavory players who played for keeps. Players like Joseph Rosenthal, who’d stop at nothing to be the “winner take all.” Sean was determined to find out the truth
and
keep Maya safe. To do this he’d have to plot his next moves very carefully. But plot he would because even after discovering her deception, his need to protect her and, he begrudgingly admitted, to continue to see her remained strong.

Sean admitted there was a somewhat positive development out of today’s events: His “hiding in plain sight” tactic of playing the Rosenthal Group against B&A had worked perfectly, a plan he devised after receiving news of Joseph’s underhanded plans where he was concerned. A reliable source had told him to watch his back, and then given him enough proof for Sean to consider it advice well taken. Sean’s loyalties ran deep, unless his trust was betrayed. In those situations, his motto became
to thine own self be true
. Joseph Rosenthal now presented such a situation. And even though he hadn’t planned to reveal his connection to Rosenthal today, Maya’s forcing his hand to do so had worked to his advantage. He would inform Joseph of his inroads into the B&A network, investigate Zeke from an insider’s advantage and find out exactly what Maya knew about the Sean Wynn/Sam Walters connection.

Sean frowned as he casually sipped a cup of chamomile tea, his second of the evening. He’d purposely brewed it because of its purported calming effect. It wasn’t working. His ire rose even as did a mental picture of the lowly Martha, in oversized clothes, a matted wig and thick, unnecessary glasses, shrinking like a violet whenever he walked into the room. Sean sat straight up as he thought of something else. Was it possible that somehow she’d seen him on Friday, when he was knocked out from taking the sinus medication? He shook his head, negating the thought. He’d checked the house; no one had entered it, a fact confirmed when Cecilia said Martha’s cousin had…Sean’s frown deepened. Maybe there wasn’t a cousin, and maybe Maya had seen him asleep in what she knew as Sam’s bed. If that was the case, Sean didn’t even want to ponder those implications. But Maya wasn’t that smart, was she? Sean knew that she was. Her brilliant mind was a part of her allure. Once again he moved to call her, and once again he stopped. If she knew he was not only friends with Sam Walters but
was
Sam Walters, it might jeopardize her safety. He didn’t want to burden her with keeping his dual identity a secret and didn’t want to jeopardize her job at B&A. Plus, he knew the investigation would end soon. Then he’d tell her everything, including how he planned to make her his forever.

He felt sure about being able to handle his professional dilemmas, but what about his personal ones? Sean felt about Macy the way he’d felt about no other woman. When he thought of her, he thought long-term: of a shared household and the sound of kids. Before she’d canceled their trip to San Diego, he’d even thought of the dreaded “m” word, the “together forever” one, and had looked forward to a weekend of having her around him twenty-four-seven. That’s what Macy, no, Maya had done to him.

Sean picked up the company photo of Maya, the one from the folder he’d initially been given regarding B&A. Now, of course, it was obvious that this was his Macy. Even with the severe bun, the dour expression, and sans makeup, he now recognized what he so loved about Macy in Maya’s face: the sparkling eyes, soft, luscious lips, high cheekbones. The fire he knew she possessed was carefully concealed beneath a dark suit in the photo, and the no-nonsense persona she portrayed.

This persona was totally unlike the free-spirited, uninhibited Macy Williams he’d met on the Fourth of July, the one with whom he’d shared sensual pleasures within hours of meeting, and whose insatiable passion matched his own. The short hairstyle added to her sassiness, highlighting her face and eyes, features partially hidden beneath the severe bangs Maya wore in the company file photo.

Sean pushed aside the now cold tea, stood, and walked to the balcony of his Ritz suite. Even with all he knew, his body ached for Maya: the feel of her soft, pliable skin, her feminine scent, the taste of her love potion on his tongue. He forced himself away from the patio view, the glorious, red sunset playing out against the ocean’s blue waves. It reminded him of when he and Maya had made love out there, her back pressed against the building’s cool, stone exterior, his hot shaft plummeting into Maya’s welcoming feminine flower, again and again.

Sean forced his mind away from this train of thought. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he said to the empty room. He stripped off his clothes and quickly donned workout gear. After grabbing a bottle of water from the minibar, a small towel from the bathroom, and his cell phone, he headed for the door. Sean felt that after a good workout he’d go to the restaurant for a nice meal and maybe stay to hear the jazz trio that often performed in the lounge next to the restaurant. After a few hours of unwinding, of divesting himself from work and Macy, no, Maya, he’d be better able to strategize his next moves.

Feeling better already, Sean put his hand on the knob, and then stopped.
I won’t even take my phone.
Part of his reasoning involved not wanting to take a business call, but an equal motivation was Tangier’s constant calling, and fearing his resolve to not call Maya would weaken. He placed the phone on the charger and again headed for the door. This time, there was a decided pep in his step; he almost felt lighthearted. But the feeling was short-lived, gone as soon as he opened the door fully and gleaned what was on the other side.

“Hello, Sean.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to treat your lady?” Tangier asked, her voice a mixture of sarcasm and hurt. “I thought you’d be excited to see me.”

The look on Sean’s face suggested otherwise.

“Well, even if that’s not the case…” she began as she slithered up to Sean, wrapped her arms around his neck, and placed a wet kiss on his unyielding mouth. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Sean let the locking door and his brushing past her toward the elevator serve as his answer.

Tangier was shocked into stillness, but not for long. “Sean,” she said, running to catch up with her lover’s long, strong strides. “I’ve just traveled five thousand miles to see you. The least you can do is act civil!”

Sean reached the elevator and punched the down arrow. “And the least you can do is retrace your steps, tonight if there’s a flight.” He took a couple of steps toward Tangier. “I expressly told you not to come here, Tangier, that I don’t mix business with pleasure. You think our screwing for the last couple of years gives you some kind of ownership where I’m concerned? Well, think again.”

The elevator doors opened and they both entered quickly. Tangier worked to keep her anger under control. She’d known Sean would be upset; fanning the fire served no purpose at this point. “I’m sorry, Sean,” she said softly, in what she hoped was a contrite-sounding voice. She wasn’t sorry she’d come, just that he was so angry. “But I just had to see you. You sounded so distant when we talked, on those rare times I could even catch you. Yes, I know you’re working, but it’s never stopped us from being able to communicate.”

Silence descended along with the elevator, all the way to the lobby.

“At least let me buy you a drink,” Tangier coaxed, once they’d stepped into the hallway. She slid her hands over his tight shoulders. “Looks like I’m not the only one who could use one.”

Sean stopped, put his hands on his hips, and stared toward the gym. He was wondering if his day could get any worse. The last person he wanted to deal with at the moment was Tangier. But he had no choice. Not to mention she’d just flown across a continent to see him. Another time, another frame of mind, and he would have welcomed her into his bed. He and Tangier had shared some good times and even with her cattiness, he considered her a friend.

He turned to Tangier and allowed a brief smile. “One drink,” he said, putting a finger up for emphasis. “And only if you promise to go back to London.”

Tangier smiled.

“I mean it,” Sean said, rising to his full six feet two inches. “There’s too much at stake for you to be here and distract me.” He softened his features and brushed his finger across Tangier’s full, red mouth. “And believe me, you would be a distraction.”

That’s exactly what I intend to be, especially where the L.A. chick who’s got your attention is concerned.
Instead of voicing these thoughts, Tangier answered, “Baby, it looks like you could use a distraction.” She brushed up against him seductively and whispered in his ear, “We can have a bottle of wine and a couple steaks brought up to the room. I’d like to help you unwind, Sean. And I’ve come so far….” Feeling his anger abating, Tangier pressed against him a little more.

Sean grabbed Tangier’s hand and returned to the bank of elevators. Room service and comfortable conversation sounded like a good idea. Tangier could fill him in on the goings on in London and take his mind away from the rumblings in L.A.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Maya came out from her hiding place behind the huge marble column near the hotel lobby’s entrance. She was seething, her desire to apologize to Sean for her duplicities dissolved. After wavering back and forth between being angry at Sean for lying to her and angry at herself for the lies she’d told, she’d decided that what she and Sean shared was worth saving. She’d convinced herself that it wasn’t just her, that Sean undoubtedly felt the same way. She’d thought about the last time they made love, and how it felt that not only their bodies, but their spirits had become entwined. She’d come to the hotel with the hopes of rekindling the flame that had burned so brightly between them, and perhaps working with him to solve whatever mysteries existed with B&A, the Rosenthal Group, and the L.A. real estate empires.

Then Maya entered the Ritz and saw the attractive, long-legged woman practically mauling Sean in the hotel lobby. Her first thought was to confront him, but before she could formulate her grand “what the bump’s going on?” speech, Sean had grabbed the woman’s hand and headed back into an elevator. Maya had taken that trip before, and knew how it ended…in Sean’s knowing and capable hands.

Maya’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at the bank of elevators once more before spinning on her heel and heading back to the valet. She was angry, hurt and confused, and needed a moment to think before she reacted. She desperately wanted to believe there was an explanation that defied the scene she’d just witnessed but after what she’d already experienced today, she didn’t have the energy to find out otherwise. Besides, if she went up to his room and confronted him, what truths would he demand in return? Could being honest in any way jeopardize Zeke’s work and the Angel’s Way deal? Was she absolutely certain Sean was really on their side, and not Rosenthal’s? Her heart felt it knew the answer but her head wasn’t sure. And with her financial freedom, future, and family at stake, tonight was not a time to gamble.

“I’m sorry,” Sean said as he peeled Tangier’s arms from around his neck. “I guess I’ve got too much on my mind to get in the mood right now.”

Tangier tempered her reaction, which, considering this man’s usual libido, could have bordered on outrage. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess,” she said calmly instead.

“Yes, I guess so.”

Tangier swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up abruptly. She had just known that after their scrumptious dinner and a bottle of wine, her plan would work. That her seductive, open-legged sprawl on the covers had cooled Sean down instead of heated him up convinced her more than ever that someone else was trespassing on her testosterone territory.