Chapter 12

As Liza ran through an impressive list of ideas, from a massive social-media blitz via popular online sites to weekly bonus e-serials exclusive for Qu Publishing subscribers, Wade wondered how he could have misjudged her so badly.

Maybe he could blame it on jet lag, because he could've sworn the live-wire he'd wooed into bed a couple of nights ago was far removed from the calculated, cool woman who was happy to date as part of an arrangement.

He'd seen a lot of interesting couples in his travels over the years, younger women in a relationship with older men for the money and security. Hell, he'd seen it firsthand with Babs and his dad.

So why did he find the thought of Liza hooking up with some slick sports star for the sake of lifestyle so unpalatable?

‘What do you think?'

Damn, she'd caught him out.

‘Sorry, I was still pondering your book tribe idea. What did you ask?'

Nice save but, by her narrowed eyes, she didn't buy it.

‘With the new e-book releases of any sporting personnel three months before my biography launches, why not insert a snippet from the bio into the back of those books? Build a little anticipation?'

‘Sounds great.'

She'd come up with some solid ideas and he was impressed with her work ethic. Pity he couldn't say the same about the rest.

‘How do you feel about the serial WAG tag?'

She stiffened in surprise. ‘That's out of left field.'

He shrugged, pretending her answer wasn't important, when he needed to know what made her tick. Because sitting across from her, the faintest rose fragrance scenting the air and reminding him of the way it had clung to his skin after their night in his suite, he had to know who the real Liza Lithgow was.

Was she the soft, hesitant woman he'd met at the party and spent a wild, passionate night with? Or was she a gold-digging, fake floozy who'd do anything to further her lifestyle?

‘Call it publisher curiosity,' he said, hating how her answers meant way more to him than on a publishing level.

‘I've been called many things by the press over the years, serial WAG being on the tamer side.'

Her flat monotone suggested rote answers, when he wanted to know the real her. It annoyed the hell out of him.

‘How did you put up with all that?'

‘Came with the territory,' she said, darting a nervous glance at the documentation on his desk, as if she'd much rather be discussing business than her personal life.

Too bad. He wanted to know more about the investment his dad's company was riding on and right now he had the distinct feeling she was hiding something. Something that went beyond a need for some degree of privacy.

He couldn't pinpoint what it was but her general evasiveness, the look-away glances, the rote answers, seemed too trite, too polished, almost as if she'd rehearsed.

A crazy suspicion? Maybe, but he'd put his father's company and three hundred grand of his own money on the line for this book. It had to be a blockbuster and so far Liza hadn't inspired him with her careful answers and measured responses.

‘You haven't told me why every publisher in Melbourne was clamouring for your exclusive story,' he said, prepared to keep interrogating her until she told him the truth.

‘Don't you know?'

‘Know what?'

‘I slept with the entire international Aussie soccer team,' she deadpanned. ‘The English one too.'

He barked out a laugh. ‘I don't believe you about the English. I would've read about that in London.'

‘Pity my antics didn't make it all the way over there,' she said, her tone holding a hint of accusation. ‘What is it you want me to say? That I danced naked at a grand final? That I had half a rugby team and cheerleaders in my room one night?'

Her voice had risen and she lowered it, making him feel guilty for pushing her. ‘Honestly? I have no idea why my story is so important, other than the fact I haven't given them a story before now.'

She held out her hands, as if she had no tricks up her sleeves. ‘I've been reticent in interviews over the years. I pick and choose the ones I do and the questions I answer. Maybe that's fostered the mystery surrounding my life? Plus I've dated two mega-famous Aussie sporting stars, and maybe people want to know, "Why her? What's so special about her?"'

He'd touched a nerve. He could see it in the frantically beating pulse in her neck, in the corded muscles, in her rigid shoulders.

He could move in for the kill now he had her more animated and far removed from her trite answers, but something in her eyes stopped him.

She looked almost haunted. As if she'd seen too much, done too much, and was still reeling from it.

It made him even more curious.

What or who had put that look in her expressive eyes?

‘Want to take a break and meet back here at four-thirty?' He asked, feeling bad for pushing her hard for answers.

Liza nodded and stood before he'd barely finished the sentence, desperate to escape. Yeah, he'd definitely hit a nerve.

He watched her walk to the door, a goddess in sheer stockings, a tight red dress, and heels that could give a guy serious ideas.

‘Liza?'

She glanced over her shoulder and arched a brow.

‘Good work on the marketing campaign.'

‘Thanks.' Her smile lit her expression and made her eyes sparkle, the first genuine show of emotion all afternoon.

Interesting. Either this book or this marketing job meant more to her than she was letting on.

‘See you later,' he said, as she slipped out of the door with a wave, leaving him more bamboozled than ever.

What he really wanted to say was, would the real Liza Lithgow please let me in?