Emilie Richards - Beautiful Lies

Beautiful Lies

by

Emilie Richards

Before turning to writing full time, Emilie Richards worked as a Marriage and Family Counsellor. This invaluable experience, she finds, influences every book she writes, giving her a 'profound window inside people's souls' Home for Emilie Richards and her family is Ohio, USA.

Novels already published by Emilie Richards in MIRA Books: IRON LACE

RISING TIDES

RUNAWAY

THE WAY BACK HOME

FUGITIVE

"intricate, seductive and a darned good read,"

--Publishers Weekly on Iron Lace

"A multi-layered plot, vivid descriptions and a keen sense of place and time."

--Library Journal on Rising Tides Beautiful Lies

EMILIE

RICHARDS

DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER? If you did, \you should be aware it is stolen property as it was reported unsold and destroyed by a retailer. Neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this book.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises 2H B. V. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

MIRA is a registered trademark of Harlequin Enterprises Limited, used under licence.

First published in Great Britain 1999 MIRA Books, Eton House, 18~24

Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey, TW9

Emilie Richards McGee 1999 ISBN I 55166 492 5 Printed and bound in Great

Britain Caledonian International Book Manufacturing Ltd, Glasgow

"Australian history is almost always picturesque; indeed, it is so curious and strange that it is itself the the chief est novelty the country has to offer... It does not read like history, but like the most beautiful lies."

--Mark Twain, Following the Equator, 1897 The liquid drops of tears you have

shed Shall come again transformed to Orient Pearl-Homer, The Odyssey The liquid drops of tears you have shed Shall come again transformed to Orient

Pearl-Homer, The Odyssey For Leslie Wainger, who loves Australia as much as I do.

San Francisco---Present Day

"Hey, lady! Better watch out for sharks."

In a different context, the warning might not have seemed so ominous to Liana Robeson. Spoken by a mother lecturing her adolescent surfer, or a retiring CEO handing over the reins to his young and eager replacement, it might have seemed like good advice. But in the middle of a San Francisco sidewalk, when she was fast approaching the epicenter of the worst panic attack she'd experienced in months, the words sent a screech of alarm up and down Liana's rigid spine.

She was surrounded by sharks, and she could feel them circling.

"You won't forget now, will you?"

Liana batted at the hand puppet the homeless man continued to wiggle in front of her face.

"No ... no, I won't forget."

The puppet, a grinning dolphin, fell away. The man, dark-skinned and lean, moved a little closer. He spoke over the clanging of a cable car across the busy street.

"You all right, honey? You looking pale."

"I'm..." The words wouldn't form. She wasn't all right. She was a thirty-eight-year-old businesswoman who could not walk down a sidewalk by

herself. She was afraid of open 10 Emilie Richards spaces, afraid of the unfamiliar, terrified of all the forces in her life that she couldn't see or control. She was a mother who just hours before had committed her son to a 737 and the great unknown. At 8:16 that morning she had watched her only child board the plane that would deliver him into his father's arms. Now she was paying the price.

Concern filled the man's eyes, but he waited for the cable car to depart.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Flipper here, he won't hurt you."

Liana squeezed her eyelids shut, so tight that the tentative sun rays piercing the afternoon gloom disappeared. For a moment she was in her own little world, fog sliding along overheated skin that would quickly turn icy cold if she didn't pull herself out of this.

Skin icy cold, heartbeat faster than a firing squad drum roll a million fiery needles stabbing at her extremities---oh, she'd been here before.

She knew what she could expect. "Honey, you had anything to eat today?"

Liana opened her eyes. The man was still there. She was dressed in Thai silk and Irish linen; his T-shirt had been old five years ago.

Under his arm he held a stack of newspapers published by a coalition of the homeless. She always had her driver buy a copy, but she'd never actually read one.

"I'm fine, thanks." In an effort to take charge, she pointed to the papers.

"I'll take one."

"Well, that's just fine. Flipper says thank you." He and Flipper began to shuffle through the papers, looking for the best of the stack.

Belatedly, Liana wondered if she had any money. She was a vice president of one of the Bay Area's largest development companies. In the hours since she had accompanied Matthew to the airport, she had represented Pacific International Growth and Development at two meetings and picked over a seafood salad at Tarantino's with real estate magnates from four continents.

As always, she had been driven from one location to another with no thought of carfare or parking fees.

Then she had made the mistake of abandoning the limo to walk the final three blocks to the Robeson Building. She had forced herself to take this journey down California Street on foot, forced herself because her world was growing narrower, and she had to fight.

Or one day she would wake up and find herself unable to leave her bedroom.

She wrenched Open her purse, but a search turned up nothing except a crumpled dollar bill. Officially it was more than enough, but she didn't often encounter kindness.

"Look, take this." She shoved the dollar bill at him as a bicycle whizzed by. She was not surprised to find her hand was trembling.

"And this." She put her hand on the lapel of her black blazer, which was embellished with a brooch from the days when she was young and foolish enough to believe she should follow her heart. The pearls were small but pristine, six of them tucked in a spray of lily-of-the-valley forged from four-teen-carat gold. The only man she'd ever loved had created the pearls.

She had created the brooch.

The clasp gave way, and she took a second to lock it before she held it out.

His eyes widened.

"I can't take" -- "Sure you can." She reached for his hand and curled his dusty fingers over the brooch.

"Take it to a good jeweler."

He was stating at the brooch in fascination when she turned away. The look on his face carried her to the door of her building and across the black-and-white marble floor to the brass filigree elevator screen.

Inside the empty car she pulled the emergency lever and closed her eyes.

Why should she be surprised that today of all days panic had burrowed straight through to her soul? This was June, and in June her beloved son belonged body and soul to his father, Cullen Llewellyn. Right now, if all had gone well with his flight, Matthew was already at La Guardia wrapped in Cullen's hearty embrace.