Heart of Lies Read Online Free Page A

called ‘Madeleines.’ Very tasty,” Leo answered in French.
    “Would you care for one? Just come this way.”
    She smiled. It was a smile that began gradually, like the morning sun peeking over the horizon. By the time its full brilliance hit Leo he was mesmerized. Grasping her hand as if he were escorting her to the dance floor, he led her back to his table.
    “But you’ve already finished your chocolate,” she said with dismay as Leo pulled out a chair for her to sit down.
    “Oh, no, I haven’t finished anything. Won’t you please join me?” She hesitated. Sensing her unease, Leo came around to stand behind her and placed his hands on her delicate shoulders. He bent down and whispered to her, his mouth nearly touching her ear. “Please, won’t you join me?”
    She sat down.
    Leo took the seat across from her, trying not to stare. Her face was truly, splendidly heart-shaped. Her emerald green eyes, greener than spring, were punctuated with flecks of gold. Her amber hair glowed.
    He extended his hand across the small table. “Leo Hoffman.”
    “Martha. Martha Levy,” she replied, touching his hand for a fraction of a second.
    He noticed the green guidebook she put down on the table as she removed her gloves. “So, are you visiting Paris for the first time?”
    “Yes.” Her German accent once again betrayed her origins.
    “What do you like best so far?”
    “The people.”
    Leo laughed. “That’s unusual. The French don’t have a good reputation for making visitors feel welcome.”
    “Aren’t you French?”
    “No, I’m Hungarian.”
    “Hungarian? But you speak with no accent.”
    “No, I speak French with a French accent, as opposed to a Hungarian one. And you are German, correct?”
    “Is it that obvious? Don’t answer that.”
    “So where are you from in Germany?”
    “Munich.”
    “And what brought you to Paris?”
    “I’m here for a short vacation. I’ve been going to the university in Munich, but next semester I want to take some time off from school to work for a while. I thought I should come to see Paris now, before I find a job, because otherwise it might be a long time before I can travel. I’m sorry, I really am prattling on.”
    “No, it’s perfect. I want to know. I want to know everything about you. Do you have any brothers and sisters? How many pairs of shoes do you own? Do you take sugar in your coffee? What’s your favorite color? How long are you staying in Paris? Are you here with your family?”
    Now it was Martha’s turn to laugh. “Do you always interrogate your new acquaintances this way?” she asked, randomly flipping through the guidebook to give her fingers something to do. She heard herself talking, but it was like listening to someone else, someone far away, whose voice did not matter. How could this happen? What was there about meeting this man that instantly reduced the eighteen years of her life to a meaningless period of waiting, of waiting for this moment, the moment when she came alive?
    “Oh, look,” she said, attempting to steer the conversation to safe ground. “Here’s a description of the beautiful church across the street. The Madeleine. Why, that’s the same—”
    “—Name as the little tea cakes. I assure you it’s not a coincidence. Shall we order some?”
    “If you wish.” She put her nose back in the book and began to read aloud.
    “A magnificent example of neoclassical architecture, the Church of Mary Magdalene was begun in 1812 by the Emperor Napoleon as a monument to the victories of his Grand Army. After Napoleon was overthrown, the building was consecrated as a church.”
    She looked up. “Ironic, isn’t it, how war and arrogance can give birth to such beauty?”
    For the first time in his life, Leo gazed into the face of an attractive woman without seeing a reflection of how she saw him, or a suggestionof what she wanted him to be. He saw only Martha, exuding a blend of confidence and innocence that struck him as the