Page 81 of Masquerade

“Just covering my birthday suit,” she said lightly. She’d been in her birthday suit when Liam had left this morning. “A nude in the lobby isn’t quite George’s style.”

“You looked like you’d been poured into those skin-tight, black jeans.” They’d lovingly ridden low on her hips, and arousal had dug its claws into Liam despite his confusion.

She halted mid step.

Fuck-me jeans they’d called them in his teens, and Kate had never worn them for him.

“The green clingy blouse knotted at your midriff dipped at the back to caress your butt like a lover’s hand.” Saying the words twisted the knife deeper in his gut.

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

His Kate presented herself at his door each night in her winter uniform of dark skirts and conservative sweaters. In the street, she’d half-turned, and the knot had looked high enough to reveal an inch of skin above her belt. He’d groaned, his body and head at war, knowing he’d used his mouth on every inch of her satin-soft, sweet-smelling midriff last night.

“I haven’t seen the stiletto boots before.” He snapped the pencil he held between his fingers.

“Where did you see me?” Her voice was level, although she seemed to draw in on herself.

“Guess.” In the street, her eyes had been hidden from Liam. “You were patting a short, blonde bob into place. When you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture was shockingly familiar.”

“I had a meeting in town this morning.”

Liam crossed his arms in a blocking movement. “With Futureproof Mining.”

Confusion had had him drawing back into the shadows of the shop doorway. She’d peeked over her shoulder. Furtively—feck, that was the only word to describe her action. He’d been poleaxed.

“Liam, my appointment wasn’t with them. Same building, but not with them.”

“I was coming out of the bookshop opposite,” he grated. “Mum’s birthday present, remember. I saw you going in.”

“I remember. What did you get her?”

“It doesn’t feckin’ matter what I bought her,” he exploded. “I texted Niall, asked if you had a photo shoot. You can guess his answer.” Liam’s gut had already told him her outfit wasn’t designed to promote medical research.

“That’s why you texted me earlier?”

“You didn’t answer.” He’d sent the text, then paced out five impatient minutes in the lobby—the longest five minutes of his adult life. “You went to see Futureproof.”

“No, I didn’t.” Her body shifted to alert, and he cursed himself for wanting to believe her.

“Bradley Morgan sure gave you a warm greeting before he ushered you into the building.”

“Youwatchedme enter the building.”

Why should I feel like a snoop?

“He’s a mate of Selina’s, another Futureproof operative.” The guy had given Kate a hungry smile, leaning close to chat before joining her in the snug space of the revolving door. Suspicion had flicked at Liam’s heels, lethally quiet. The guy’s body language implied he had intimate knowledge.

“The suit who tried to pick me up is a mate of Selina’s?” She sounded like she was trying to recall the guy. “Figures. He’s obviously her type. For heaven’s sake, I was polite to him.”

“The lift stopped at three floors. Futureproof occupies all three of those floors. I’m not a betting man, but those are pretty conclusive odds.” He threw up a hand. The odds were too strong for him to ignore the risk. Pretending he hadn’t seen her would be disloyal to George. He’d stood stock still in the lobby, and all he could think of was his father. Betrayal had killed his father. Liam couldn’t forgive betrayal.

“You were following me?” Her voice trembled. “You were! What is this? You’re convicting me on circumstantial evidence?”

“You’re arguing reasonable doubt?” he snorted.

“Andrew stalked me, tried and found me guilty of disloyalty if I smiled at a stranger, if I wore a dress he considered too provocative. Even walking on the wrong side of the street was a personal attack on him.” She huffed out short breaths.

“I’m not Andrew”—although she was making Liam feel like the bastard—“and using him as a defence doesn’t make you innocent.”

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