Lie to Me

by Ambrose, Starr

• ISBN13: 9781416586647
• ISBN10: 1416586644
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2008-11-25
• Publisher: Pocket Books

Summary

The engagement is phony, but the diamonds are real....Devastatingly handsome Jack Payton, the black sheep of his well-bred family, isn't exactly marriage material, but for a fake fiance, he'll do just fine. Not that Eleanor Coggins has a choice. If she's going to prove that Jack's wealthy half brother Banner Westfield murdered her best friend, she needs total access to the family estate.Once Jack and Eleanor blow Banner's cover, they can go their separate ways...or so she thinks. In order to win custody of his twelve-year-old daughter, Jack seriously needs to improve his reputation. An engagement should do the trick, but with Eleanor's vivacious wit and irresistible curves, it's the pretend part that's getting harder....With a little help from an ex-con turned home security expert, a police chief with a scandalous secret, and an unexpected visitor, they must expose Banner's dangerous tricks before they become his victims. But can Jack convince Eleanor to turn their own seductive little lie into the truth?

Author Biography

Starr Ambrose was born and raised in south east Michigan, graduated from Michigan State University with a degree in English, and married her college sweetheart. She is the author of six romance novels, including Silver Sparks and Gold Fire, the two previous titles in the Barringer’s Pass series.

Excerpts

Chapter OneEleanor Coggins paused before the three-foot-high hedge surrounding the dark patio. Scooting her tight dress up her thighs, she carefully hoisted a leg over the greenery. Midway across, a twig snagged her hose, her shoe heel caught in the hidden wrought-iron fence, and she fell in a sprawling heap onto the rough slate patio.Eleanor grimaced and mentally added cat burglar to the long list of professions she sucked at.Brushing off her palms, she stood cautiously. The nearby windows remained dark, and the secluded patio was blacker than the lawn she had just crossed, where she'd had to slink past streaks of yellow light from the large windows.She hiked her skirt into place with a firm twist and brushed at her rear end to remove any grit she might have picked up from the flagstones. Not that the immaculate Westfield house and grounds would have a particle of dirt out of place this Friday evening. Even in exclusive Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, the grandiose Westfield mansion made its neighbors look shabby.Eleanor tried to fluff some semblance of neatness into her long blond waves, then peered closely at her left leg. In the dark she couldn't see where the bush had torn her nylons. She could feel the hole, though, and the run that snaked up her inner thigh to the heavy leather strap of the holster. Damn. She pivoted her leg, checking to make sure the gun didn't show. If she had to make an appearance at the party, she needed to blend in. Firearms were probably frowned upon.The strap was so tight her left leg was nearly white from the lack of circulation, and the weight of the gun made her feel so off-balance she nearly limped, but she felt confident that no one could see what she hid on her upper thigh. As long as she didn't cross her legs and shoot her toes off.The tiny purse she'd slung over her neck had flopped onto her back during her fall. Eleanor repositioned the bag on her shoulder and removed two items. She switched on the little penlight, then held it between her teeth while she set to work with the lock pick on the French doors.At least this part of the job went smoothly. The hours of diligent practice in the back room of her cousin's hardware store had paid off. After two minutes of concentration, studiously ignoring the laughter and music drifting from the front part of the house, she heard the lock click back. Eleanor softly turned the handle on the door, then slipped into the darkened library.She was in the enemy's lair.Her quick, nervous breaths sucked in the scent of leather and stale cigars. Shadowy rows of books rose beside her. Eleanor walked along them, running the tiny light over volumes of leather-bound classics, and snorted quietly. It had to be for show. A man could not have been exposed to such literary enrichment without absorbing a few virtues. And as far as Eleanor knew, Banner Westfield had none.The penlight suddenly hit open space and slid over glistening blue scales. Eleanor jumped, then shone the light along the mounted body of a fish, mouth agape and dead eye unnaturally bright. Stepping back, she bumped into an expanse of leather large enough to be a cow, knocking the wheeled chair against a desk.Cursing under her breath, she steadied the spinning chair, then stepped around it. The desk before her was a vast expanse of polished wood and inset leather, gleaming expensively even in the thin beam of her penlight. Her lips curved at the white frame of a computer monitor and the dull glint of brass locks on the side desk drawers. El Dorado. Right where it was supposed to be. Janet had been sitting at this desk when she found the information that got her killed. If Janet could find it, so could she. Only she wouldn't confront Banner with it like Janet had. She'd take it straight to the police.At least that was the plan. If her answers weren't here, she might have to resort to the gun, an option she didn't want to think about.She glanced