Tell No Lies Read Free Page A

she’d countered, pressing the cold, damp bottle of beer to her lips. She could almost taste the sweat from his body as she stared at him across the table and crossed her legs, gasping softly at the physical sensations that rushed through her.
    “No,” he said, his expression dark.
    A warning maybe? Augusta ignored it.
    “I’m not.”
    She was baiting him. “So then you’ve sworn off women?”
    “No.”
    His pale blue eyes glinted like ice in the dim light of the bar, and the single word made Augusta’s heart jump a little. “Only those related to the ones hell-bent on putting me behind bars.”
    He was talking about her sister, of course. Caroline had worked tirelessly to keep Ian’s sins in the public eye. She’d dug up every last offense Ian had ever been accused of and had published it without mercy, putting questions out there for everyone, including the police, to consider. Thanks to Caroline, they all knew he’d had sex for the first time at the age of eleven and spent a summer in juvy.
    Augusta didn’t believe any of those stories were relevant—not a single one—especially since they had been tainted by her sister’s efforts to pull their family’s legacy—an ailing newspaper—out of the gutter. Augusta truly believed Ian was the victim of a witch hunt, not a criminal, and the only danger she faced seemed quite carnal in nature.
    Her gaze never left his eyes. They were like deep, clear blue pools beckoning her into his soul. Somewhere in those depths she saw his vulnerability, and it spoke to her in a seductive whisper. “Guilt by association?”
    He shrugged noncommittally. Augusta took a long pull of her beer, tearing her gaze away from his face with some effort, concealing the shudder of her breath behind a long exhale.
    Every nerve in her body was taut and alive.
    He arched a dark blond brow. “Why are you here, Augusta?”
    Despite the fact that the Windjammer was full of sweating bodies and buzzing with chatter, all Augusta could hear was the sound of his voice and her own heartbeat ticking at her temples. Her palms felt sweaty, and she wrapped the bottle in her left hand and brushed the cool dampness of it with her right, wondering if the taste of him was as intoxicating as the brew in her hand. She shrugged. “Maybe I’m here because I don’t believe you’re guilty?”
    The arch of his brow deepened. “Are you asking . . . or telling?”
    Augusta was much more adamant this time. “No, I don’t believe you’re guilty!”
    He sat back and assessed her a moment. “That would make you the only person in this city who doesn’t,” he suggested.
    Augusta eyed the girl on stage, inclining her head. She smiled knowingly. “Apparently, not the only one.”
    In her early twenties, the dark-haired girl was obviously smitten with Ian. Absently strumming her guitar, she hadn’t taken her eyes off them all night, but Ian didn’t seem to notice. His attention was focused on Augusta, and she knew he was feeling exactly the way she was feeling at the moment. The air between them felt as tightly wound as the strings of his “girlfriend’s” guitar. Augusta tipped her chin toward the girl on stage. “She believes in you enough to give you an alibi.”
    “She told the truth,” he said. “I was here that night, watching her play—right here at this table, in fact—waiting for her brother to join me.” He tapped the table.
    “So I hear.” Augusta tilted her head, eyeing him coyly, and then she asked, “She your girlfriend?”
    “Friend.”
    Her heart leapt a little over the way he emphasized the single word, making it clear there was nothing more between them.
    “With benefits?”
    “Without.”
    Augusta tilted him another questioning look. “Her choice or yours?”
    He lifted a brow. “Does it really matter, Augusta?”
    Augusta shrugged, feigning indifference though she felt anything but.
    “Alright . . . so you don’t believe I’m guilty,” he conceded. “But why are you