The Last Good Liar (Carolina Kisses #3) - Sylvie Stewart Page 0,20

“So, do you want to explain exactly why you’re in need of a fake boyfriend? And, better yet, why you’ve chosen me to play the part? I’m sure you must know at least one member of the male species you can tolerate better than me.”

Dammit. This is really pushing my boundaries around personal shit and strangers. Hell, I don’t share most of my business with people I actually like. But this is bigger than me and my privacy—or my pride. This is about Camille. Well, Camille and my vagina, that is. Can’t forget the poor girl and her negotiated date with Haines’ gross peen in ten days’ time. My response ends up to be a simple, “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” And I surprise even myself when I smile across the table at Ponch.

He smiles back, making his dimples pop and my stomach go “Wee!” Dammit, get ahold of yourself, woman! “Fair enough.” My relief is short-lived, however, when he continues, “But I’m headed back to Greensboro right after lunch.”

“What? Why?” I’m leaning forward before I can stop myself. Is that desperation in my voice? Crappity crap crap.

He tilts his head at me, still amused. “Uh, because I live there. And my shop is there. Well, my first one.”

“But I thought you were staying until you found a place to lease.”

“I already found a place.” His eyebrows spike. “And your bosses are avoiding me just like the damn realtor.”

“Oh, right.” Maybe I shouldn’t have been so upfront with him yesterday. “Sorry.” An apology seems like the right note to hit at a time like this.

“Are you?” He’s not making this easy for me.

I prop an elbow on the table and purse my lips at him. “Hey, I was only being honest last night.”

“Honest about calling me a degenerate?”

What an ass! “I never said that.”

“You implied it,” he insists, his own lips pursing as he leans into the table and almost upends his water glass. I reach across and rescue it as I imagine what we must look like to anyone witnessing our exchange. But then I remember all my coworkers are already acquainted with the bitch within.

Still, I try reining in my temper a little. “No. If you were listening, I told you William and Winona Fontaine think you’re a degenerate. I didn’t share my own personal feelings on the matter.”

“Whatever!” He loses steam and slumps back into his side of the booth, letting his eyes wander around the room before bringing them back to me. “How do you stand working for those assholes?”

Oh, if he only knew. I shake my head and go with a vague, “Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

Ponch nods slowly and reaches over to retrieve his glass again before absently stirring the water with his straw. “I guess I can understand that. It sucks to be beholden to other people for money.”

“Yeah.” Now here’s where any other person might feel the tiniest bit guilty for misleading him. But if I know anything, I know that money complicates the hell out of things and makes people assholes. A couple faces I’d rather forget worm their way into my consciousness but I shove them back. Best to keep this simple and stick with my story. Unfortunately, Ponch is in a nosy mood.

“So, exactly how well do you know the Fontaines?”

“Why?” I don’t try to hide my wariness, but he only responds with another smile. God, this guy could make a career out of international peace negotiations with his smile and stupid dimples as his only tools.

“Humor me.”

I guess I can play along if it helps him trust me enough to accept my proposition. I choose my words carefully because everyone knows the most successful lies are the ones closest to the truth. “It’s almost like I’m their daughter.”

He appears impressed with my answer. “You must be one hell of an actress.” I’m not sure whether to be offended or flattered, but a response is clearly unnecessary when he continues, “So, I take it they value your opinion?”

Uncomfortable with the detour we’ve taken, I only shrug. Let him make of that what he will. “So, back to the boyfriend gig. How much will it take to keep you in town for a few days?” Two or three should be enough.

Thankfully, he bites. “I still don’t understand why you could possibly need a pretend boyfriend.”

“How are we doing over here?” Camille’s voice makes me jump, and I glance over to see her standing not three feet from