Art of the Lie (3 page)

“In the good way?” Lindy murmured, distracted by her reflection.

“I beg your pardon?”

Reality rushed back in with an ugly screech. “Oh! Sorry. Um, thanks. I’ll email Stephen as soon as I can, all right?”

Maddox was obviously trying and failing to keep from laughing. “Yeah, please do. I’m sure he’ll be reassured.”

“I’m really sorry.” She yanked the robe off the hook and wrapped it around herself to reduce temptation and feel at least somewhat hidden. Here, as at her studio, there was a shortage of rocks to crawl under.

“Hey, it’s all right. Stop apologizing.” His tone changed. She could almost see him leaning into the phone. It was a great image. “You don’t have anything to be nervous about, you know. We don’t make calls like this to just everyone.” When he said it, she almost believed it was true.

“Thank you.”

“So this gallery thing, Stephen mentioned that. I think he was planning to go, but I suspect he’ll be playing catch-up at work after he gets back. Maybe I’ll try to make an appearance instead.”

“Really?” The light bulb over Lindy’s head finally clicked on. He was
flirting
with her! That was the tone in his voice. Paul Maddox was actually flirting with her over the phone. Even after he’d seen the picture of her that appeared in the article. Good Lord. “That would be great. I think it’s going to be a great show. Not just my stuff. The other artists, too, they’re both…great.”

“That all sounds…great.”

Lindy had to restrain herself from beating her head against the counter. She was positive she couldn’t sound any dumber if she tried.

“So I have to go. Um, the stylist needs to do some more work, I think.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you soon, Melinda.”

“Okay. Bye.”

They both hung up, and Lindy tucked her phone back in her robe pocket, wondering if that surreal conversation had actually happened or had just been a hallucination caused by the seaweed.

* * * * *

In retrospect, Lindy realized she shouldn’t have taken the stairs. She was sweaty from the lingering moist heat of the day, and with no protective layer of hair on the sensitive skin of her pubic area, there was a certain amount of unaccustomed chafing along the edges of her underwear.

She had just paused and started flapping her skirt in the air, trying to cool off and dry the sweat, when she heard a familiar deep thumping noise. Richard, taking the stairs two or three at a time as usual, stealthy as a herd of drunken elephants in the echo chamber formed by the concrete stairwell. Smoothing the skirt down quickly, Lindy turned to see her neighbor leap into view and then spring past her with a wave.

“Hey Lind!” he shouted, bouncing up the rest of the stairs and then waiting for her at the third and final landing. He was hardly even out of breath. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” she said a bit too quickly, picking up her pace and pasting a smile on her face. She hadn’t expected to see him so soon after her bold spa adventure, and had no defense against the immediate attack of nerves that struck her at the sight of him. One more day before she implemented her plan. In just twenty-four hours, he could be looking at the results of all that buffing and waxing. “Doing great.”

“You ladies have fun at your spa thingy?” He opened the heavy metal door and held it for her as she reached the landing. Then he did a genuine double take. “Wow. Your hair is…wow.”

“Thanks.”

“What else did you have done?” He flicked his eyes down her body quickly as she passed.

“Just girl stuff.”

The vague answer made him frown, but he didn’t comment. As he often did, Richard followed Lindy into her apartment and flopped on one of her two faded futon couches, picking up the remote and turning on the television with the sound off. Cruising the channels, never stopping more than a few seconds on any one show.

Lindy’s first stop, even before shrugging off her purse, was at her computer, where she fired off a hasty reply to Stephen Markham’s email. That done, she dumped her purse on the kitchen counter and pulled two water bottles from the refrigerator. She would try to act like it was any other day, she decided.
Yep, nothing out of the ordinary here, no seduction plans. Nothing to see, folks. Nobody here but us chickens.
“Anything good on?”

“No. I wish one of us had cable.”

But chickens can’t afford cable…

“Then one of us would just be paying to have yet more channels of nothing good on.” She handed him a bottle and flopped down on the other couch, not bothering to face the TV. She was unable to hide her gasp when the movement of sitting down caused her panties to tug against her sensitive bits in an unexpected way.

“Lindy. Is something wrong?”

She shot him a sour look. “Just remind me never to go to a spa with Tess and get all crazy and wild again, okay? I think I’m experiencing some buyer’s remorse.”

“Is this remorse about a good or a service?”

“I’m not playing twenty questions about this, Richard.” She reached for the remote but he yanked it out of her reach. She sighed, exasperated, and sagged back in her seat, fidgeting a little before she could stop herself.

“Just tell me!”

“It is too freaking hot to argue.”

“Then stop arguing. If I guess, will you tell me?”

“What are you, twelve? You know, sometimes you remind me of my little brother so much it’s scary.”

Undeterred, Richard slid the remote behind his back and crossed his arms. He contemplated Lindy’s lap, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I’m going to Sherlock Holmes this motherfucker, then. Get ready for deductive brilliance.”

“
M’kay
.” She downed a big slug of water, trying desperately to appear unconcerned. Things seemed to be headed in a dangerous direction.

“So you went to the spa with your sister, and there you underwent a procedure of some sort that seems to have involved a tender portion of your anatomy.”

“I’m not exactly floored by the brilliance yet.”

“A reaction to mud or sea salt or some shit like that could have caused a rash, resulting in uncomfortable itching. However—” He held a finger up when Lindy started to interrupt. “
However
, your legs, arms and face seem free from any unsightly rashes. Quite the contrary, in fact, dear lady. They are smooth and unblemished. And look really, really soft, actually.”

“Thank you. But I don’t think Holmes said ‘some shit like that’ when he was deducing stuff,” Lindy pointed out, wishing she could use this time to get in some advance flirting. The problem was she had no clue how to flirt, as the phone call with Paul had made all too clear. She chided herself for not spending more time watching those girls who picked up Richard so easily in college. How on earth had they done it, anyway? Surely it hadn’t sounded anything like this conversation.

Waggling his eyebrows, Richard fired back, “You don’t see me wearing the dumb-ass hat or smoking a pipe, either. Okay, so it isn’t a rash. At least if it is, it’s somehow localized to this area right in here.” He gestured toward her waist and then lower, circling his hand vaguely. “So what beauty procedure specific to that area might result in an
uncomfort
—”

Lindy had been staring at her water bottle as she peeled the label off, but when Richard stopped short she looked up to see him staring at her with his mouth slightly open. He wasn’t staring at her face.

“Oh my god,” he said, whispering reverently. “You got waxed, didn’t you?”

Lindy rolled her eyes and sighed in defeat. “Maybe.”

“Like…the whole thing? Or with a little design or—”

“Richard!” She tried to cross her legs, regretted it instantly and slammed her foot back down on the floor.

“Well if you don’t want to tell me, you could always just show me.” He gave her a suggestive smirk, and Lindy found herself infuriated that he felt so safe saying something like that. So sure it could only ever be a joke between them.

Then, with a shock, she realized this conversation might well be the best opening she’d ever get. They were already talking about sexy things, the night was young, she was still a tiny bit buzzed from those mimosas. It might not be what she had planned but maybe it was time to bite the bullet. Do it now, before she could lose her nerve.

“If I showed you,” she said hesitantly, “what would you do about it?”

Tension, immediate and electric, sizzled between them as Richard met her eyes in stunned silence. He stared at her face, then down at her lap, then up at her face again before his brain finally seemed to reconnect to his mouth.

“I guess that would depend on why you were showing me.”

Lindy licked her lips, wondering how her mouth could feel so dry when she’d just been drinking cold water. “Well, it seems like a shame to do something like this and not have anybody to appreciate it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could find plenty of people who would be more than appreciative,” he assured her, trying to put his water bottle on the coffee table and missing. He reached out with the bottle again, found the table without looking then pulled back and took another swig before finally setting the bottle down.

His nervous fumbling made Lindy feel a little more confident. Reaching one foot out, she nudged his leg with a toe. “So are you saying you don’t want me to show you?”

“Wow. Okay, this is
not
what I expected to happen this afternoon. In fact, I’m not exactly sure
what’s
happening, here. Can you tell me that, maybe? Tell me just what is happening? Because I have to admit, I’m a little confused.”

But he caught her raised foot in his hand and lifted it to his lap, and Lindy couldn’t help but notice that his gaze kept drifting along that leg to the hidden topic of their bizarre conversation. The touch of his fingers on the arch of her foot sent maddening tendrils of sensation up the back of her thigh. Steeling herself, Lindy dropped the bomb.

“I’m seducing you.” Even as she said it, Lindy realized that if she had to explain, she was probably doing something very wrong.

“I got that part,” Richard replied. Well, at least she hadn’t done it entirely wrong. “What I can’t figure out is—why.”

Was there more than one reason for seduction?

“Because I want you to have sex with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I…you heard me.”

“What the hell, Lindy?” He leaned closer, sniffing at her. “Have you been drinking?”

“No. Well, a tiny bit at the spa, but not enough to count. Listen. Richard. I know this is sudden. And none of this is really going the way I’d planned it. At all. Not even close, actually. But if you think about it, it makes perfect sense. Somebody has to do it, and you’re the perfect person.” She pulled her foot away and sat forward, leaning closer, ready to convince him.

“Okay, wait. Back up. Just back up, here.” He put his hands out in a “stop” gesture. “You want me to sleep with you? Out of the blue?
Why
?”

Lindy realized her abrupt approach was failing dismally and she struggled to shift gears. “Well, I really like you. You’re such a good friend. And I trust you. You’re not a total asshole. But you’re also not going to treat it like something it’s not, just because it’s…you know, just because I haven’t done it before. You’ll be cool about it. You will have done me this huge favor and we’ll still be friends afterward.”

“You haven’t done what before?”

His obvious cluelessness brought Lindy up short. “Um.
Sex
. I haven’t done sex before. I, uh…thought you knew that.”

“Ah, no,” he replied. Hands on his knees, back oddly stiff. “No, I did not know that.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I really thought you knew. I mean, I thought everybody knew.” She realized she was repeating herself, but she was too startled to censor herself and it was all she could think to say.

“I knew back in college. I didn’t know it was still true today.”

Lindy sat back and drew her knees up to her chin with her arms wrapped around them, tucking her skirt tightly around her thighs. She’d gone from giddy to mortified in seconds, and was still trying to cope with the change.

“Give me a second here,” Richard requested, taking a deep breath and turning to face her. He was still wearing an incredulous expression. “Okay, seriously? You’re how old, twenty-five?”

“Twenty-six,” she mumbled into her knees.

“Then how is that even possible? I’ve seen you go on dates. And I know you must have had offers. Is this like a religious thing?”

“No. It wasn’t on purpose or anything. I didn’t set out to
not
do it. It just sort of happened.”

“Didn’t happen,” he corrected her.

“Exactly. And the longer it goes on, the harder and harder it gets. And I—”

“That’s a bad visual for me right now, Lind.” He grimaced, shifting in his seat again. She looked down and gaped at the very obvious erection Richard was unable to conceal in his snug jeans. Sighing, he snagged a throw pillow and shoved it onto his lap. “Please, do go on. But watch the language, okay?”

“Um.” She cleared her throat, hoping that her furious blush was not as red and blotchy as it felt. “So the longer I’ve waited to do it, just because the time never seemed quite right, or the guy never seemed quite right, the more important the whole thing seems to have gotten. Like, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal five years ago. But now I’m twenty-six. Do you have any idea what kind of response a girl gets if she tells her date she’s a twenty-six-year-old virgin?”

“Ouch. Yeah, I can see where that would be a problem.”

“I don’t really want to wait forever for Mr. Right. But any guy that’s willing to do me with no strings is nobody I’d want to do. At least not the first time. And what’s worse is the guys who think it’s a great thing, and assume I’m saving it on purpose. If that’s their mindset, then believe me, they’re
so
not attracted once I say I really just want to do it to get it over with. Or they’re all, ‘Oh are you okay, is it okay if I touch you
here
?’ And I’m thinking, ‘It would have been if you hadn’t
asked
first. We’re already making out, I already let you get me naked, of course it’s okay to touch me there, idiot. What do you think we’re here for?’ And then I’m just…not in the mood anymore.” Lindy growled in remembered frustration and banged her forehead softly against her knees.