“No one who knows you could possibly think that’s you,” I sputter.
He gives me a wry smile. “Is that so?” I turn crimson, immediately recalling the accusations I flung at him only a few months ago.
“Yes, only a total moron would believe any of that,” I say. “Your employees love you.”
“Yeah, well, hopefully, some of them will attest to my character and keep me from losing my job. It’s already been hard enough to prove that I can continue as CEO, considering how young I am.”
“They can’t do that!” I say. I’m horrified, to think my silly book could cost Liam the chance to lead the company he loves.
“They just might,” he says, resigned. “Joe Whittaker has been waiting for me to slip up, and now he has this. I’d think he was the author, except the guy can hardly string a sentence together.”
I have to do something. I need to find these people accusing Liam. I need to make it clear that my book is absolute fiction. I dread the idea of going public. Mainly because I fear losing Liam. But he can’t lose his job over this. But also, he can’t read that book, not before I tell him. While he showers, I ask Cat if I can borrow the book. And when no one’s watching, I go outside, cross the bright, snowy parking lot, and throwAll’s Fair in Lovein the dumpster.
***
The sun is out, the sky blue,and the roads are plowed by 11 a.m. We’re all back in the Land Rover. Liam and I never had a moment alone. I probably could have managed it, but I know I must tell him about my book as soon as we have a private moment. And yes, he likes me. I believe Liam really likes me. But he will not like this. And he just told me he hates surprises. He will really hate this.
The moment we pull out from the motel, Lydia starts whining. “I get car sick! I need the front seat.”
Liam turns to me with a questioning look. I love that we already have our own silent communication. I shrug and smile—code for,why not?He understands and pulls over when there’s a wide enough shoulder.
“Let’s swap,” I say to Lydia. “I don’t want you puking in Liam’s car.”
“Thank you, bless you,” she says as she climbs over to the front.
Liam gives me a wink and a smile in the mirror. I note with pleasure that a Frasier Fir air freshener hangs from his rearview mirror. In no time at all, I drift off to sleep in the comfortable leather back seat. When I wake, the scenery outside is no longer white with fresh snow. We must be getting close to home. Lydia reads a book on her Kindle out loud. It sounds very familiar, too familiar.
“Lydia!” I exclaim. “What are you reading?”
“The book with Darcy in it. Don’t worry, you haven’t missed much.”
“Didn’t you say you get car sick?” I ask.
“Yeah, so?”
“Won’t reading make you more sick?”
“No, it distracts me from my tummy.”
I look to Darcy for backup. “Liam, don’t you think it’s a bad idea?”
“Honestly, I’m enjoying it.” The sweetest words to an author’s ears—to have the man you admire say he likes your book. But also, painful. He likes my book, but he won’t for long.
“Fine, but don’t come complaining to me if she throws up.”
“Not going to happen,” says Lydia. “Where were we?”
“Lizzy was in the staff kitchen and her boss walked in,” Liam says matter-of-factly.
Oh no, no, no! Not this scene!
The air in the room shifts the moment he enters,Lydia reads dramatically.Lizzy feels every atom in her body careen toward him as if he were a magnet and she were made of iron filings. She feels betrayed by her body. How dare it be attracted to this man? She has heard the stories; she knows he is a player and a flirt. She is no fool. But when he says her name with his voice as deep and rich as whiskey...
I inwardly wince; couldn’t I have come up with a better simile?
She cannot resist. She steps toward him.
“I have a few questions.”
