A chill swept through her and she took a sip of her coffee. It fell through her stomach and burned into her abdomen. Still she read on. The couple took a trip to Russian River, but instead of a picnic lunch they ate at a small winery and discussed some type of mystery they were involved in. Why was Liam writing a book? Maybe it was the last book Marcus wrote and he was proofreading it? But how could Marcus have known about the burned meal she had prepared?
She clicked back to an earlier chapter and started reading from there, hoping it would make sense. The two characters, Lisa and Todd, seemed to be involved in some kind of amateur sleuthing while falling in love. Some of their dates bore a striking resemblance to things she and Liam had done. When the couple had an argument in the car on the way back from Russian River, Lorelei’s blood ran cold. The hero didn’t want children and the heroine did. It seemed the relationship was over just as they’d solved the mystery.
Her coffee was now lukewarm, and rather than get a new cup from the coffeemaker at the other end of the room, she read on. The heroine, Lisa, although her name switched intermittently with Lorelei, had shown up at the hero’s apartment wearing a teddy and a trench coat. She then announced to the hero she’d rather have him than a hundred children before doing a striptease for him.
The words began to blur and Lorelei blinked rapidly. She felt violated, like someone had taken her private diary and opened it for everyone to read. Even their lovemaking was immortalized in the written word. Her stomach rolled and she reached for her coffee, hoping to melt the lump that seemed lodged in her throat. Why would Liam do this? She thought his brother had been the writer. Was it yet another of his disguises?
The cup, which she had set down on a wobbly pile of paper, overturned, spilling the last of the brown liquid over the desk. She moved some of the files before the advancing coffee tsunami could reach them, while she searched frantically for something to mop up the liquid.
Lorelei raced across the room, where a roll of paper towels sat on the counter. Grabbing a handful, she hurried back to the desk. Desperate to mop up the coffee before it spread, she knocked over the precarious stack of papers, scattering the contents across the floor. After she’d cleaned the spilled coffee, she bent to retrieve the papers. She froze, her hand hovering over a photo of herself. The picture her mother had uploaded to the dating site. Her hand shook as she picked up the remaining pages. Her profile, as well as a transcript of the chat she’d had with Richard the architect, had been printed out. A few of her personal details were highlighted with a yellow marker.
A black haze clouded her mind and she struggled to drag in each breath. Was she having another anaphylactic reaction? Her EpiPen was in her bag near the front door, but she couldn’t make her legs understand the need to walk. They were glued to the floor as she stared at her face in the photo, which began to blur.
Splashes fell on the picture. It wasn’t until strong hands pulled the paper out of her grasp that she became aware of Liam standing before her. Guilt was written all over his face.
“You self-centered, lying bastard.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized she’d repeated his mother’s vindictive summation of his character.
…
Liam swallowed at Lorelei’s words. He couldn’t deny them. How to make her understand? He glanced over at the monitors. Marcus’s book was clearly displayed, and not at the point where he’d left it. And judging by the horrified expression on Lorelei’s face, she’d read that, as well as finding his file on her. Why the hell hadn’t he destroyed it? He’d printed it out on a whim and had been unwilling to lose her photo. Now that sentimentality had come back to bite him in the ass. Except it was his heart taking the punishment. His chest ached and it was difficult to breathe.
“Lorelei, let me explain��”
“Explain what? Explain how you hacked into the dating website, read my profile, decided I was the perfect candidate to play the role in your little book here.” She gestured wildly at the computer monitor. “And then dated me to provide fodder for your limited imagination? I see it all worked out for you very well. Glad I was able to live up to your expectations. Or, what was it you wrote, ‘made him realize how shallow his previous sexual encounters had been’? Well, lucky for you. I’m glad you’ve written ‘The End’ because it saves me from having to say it!”
Her eyes, which last night had been lit with love, now were blazing anger…hatred…pain. He deserved her anger and hatred; however, he’d do anything to ease the pain.
“Sweetheart, it’s not like that, not anymore.”
“Not anymore because you’ve finished the book? Go on, Liam, deny it. Let’s hear your explanation. Start at the beginning. Did you hack into the dating site and read my profile?”
“Yes, but—”
“Did you, or did you not, hijack my date with Richard?”
“Yes, but—”
“What did you do? You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
Is that what she thought him capable of? Yet hadn’t he hurt her? His heart burned and he looked down, sure he was on fire somewhere.
“No, of course not.”
“No to what, hijacking the date or hurting Richard?”
Her hands were on her hips and her whole body language said stay away. If he could only touch her, he was sure the words would come and he could explain. “Yes, I hijacked your date. No, I didn’t hurt Richard. I sent him a message from your profile saying you had to work late and would reschedule, and then I deleted your account and refunded the money to your mother.” That didn’t sound too bad…
“How very noble of you. So everyone wins. I get a moment in your life, my mother gets her money back, and you get a real woman to play dolly with her life. What about Richard? What about the dating site?” Even in her outrage her sense of justice stood out.
“Richard is a jerk. He’s already been married three times and his divorce from wife number three hasn’t even been finalized and he’s already trolling for number four. He had no right being on that site.”
“You investigated him? What kind of psychopath investigates the competition?”
All the blood drained from his face at the word “psychopath.” “It was all public knowledge. You just have to know where to look.” If she was this outraged about his investigation of Richard, he sure as hell hoped she didn’t find out all he knew about her background. Her imprisoned father hadn’t been news to him, although he thought he’d played the surprise well.