Deceit Read Online Free Page B

smile. Although she hadn’t met Sara before this trip, Liana thought she was very nice and eager to learn all aspects of the business. She plucked the hairpins from her hair. The tight coil at the base of her neck loosened, then opened, sending a shining, straight mass of wheat-colored hair down her back.
    “How’s your knee?” Sara asked.
    “Not too bad.” In truth, standing on it all day had made the dull ache of the bruise turn to a throb. “I’m thankful that I’m here to model evening gowns. The long skirts cover the bandage. If we were doing street-length dresses or bathing suits, you would have been the one out there in front of the cameras, with the reflectors throwing heat and light onto you.”
    Sara’s eyes widened. “No way could I do a big assignment like this one. Besides, I’m really happiest behind the camera.” She ran her hand over the gown, caressing the beaded work, then carefully hung it up.
    Liana pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top and breathed a sigh of relief at the cool comfort of the outfit. “Clay has done layouts with you before, hasn't he?”
    “Only small stuff. Nothing on this scale. Are you going back to the hotel now?”
    She should get off her knee for a while, Liana thought, but the prospect of an empty room was unappealing, and the beauty of the grounds was pulling at her. “I think IH take a short walk. I’m a little stiff, and the exercise will feel good.”
    Sara laughed quietly. “Exercise never feels good. A hot bath is more my speed and that's just where I'm heading. Maybe IH even be able to catch a nap before dinner. Have you heard? We have to dress for dinner.”
    Liana smiled. “Yes, I did hear that.”
    “But do you know why?” Sara asked as they left the tent.
    “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. Why?” 
    “This is SwanSea.”
    “What?”
    “I asked one of the very dignified employees why we had to dress for dinner, and I was told with extreme politeness that this is SwanSea.” She grinned, then shrugged. “See you later.”
    Liana ended up at the gazebo that stood on the windswept point overlooking the sea. The gazebo was made of iron bent in fluid arabesques. A fresh coat of white paint and new green and blue cotton ducking covers for the bench cushions made it a lovely retreat, but Liana thought she sensed an air of sadness and loneliness about the gazebo.
    She rested a knee on the cushion and leaned against the railing, reflecting that she didn’t mind the strange atmosphere. Sadness and loneliness were emotions with which she was all too familiar. She was used to being by herself; she had long ago made the conscious decision not to get too close to anyone. And it had been years since she’d thought of the irony that one of the most visible women of the decade was also one of the most isolated.
    The money she earned modeling gave her security. The sense that she earned her money through hard work gave her satisfaction. But she accepted only the assignments she wanted, and arranged her schedule to suit herself. And when she reached the point where the feel of people’s hands on her was just beginning to penetrate through her mind block, she’d retreat to the countryside of France where she had a cottage and no one but Jean-Paul Savion had the address.
    Her success had ensured her freedom from people and their demands; it was the main reason why her career was so important to her.
    “You know what I remember most about your legs?”
    She spun at the sound of Richard’s voice, her heart beating wildly. He wore an icy blue shirt paired with taupe-colored slacks, and she’d never seen him look more virile and attractive. Or more dangerous.
    He raked his gaze up the long length of her bare legs. “I remember how they seemed to go on forever,” he continued, “and how tightly they gripped my waist when we made love. And when you climaxed—”
    “Shut up, Richard.’’
    His smile seemed almost genuine, she thought with a