To Tell the Truth Read Free

area," Tell Stafford answered easily, but there was a faint narrowing of his eyes that suggested he was judging her reaction. "And what about you?"
    "I've been doing research and manuscript typing on a novel." Why in the world had she told him that, Andrea asked herself. It was too late to retract it now. She had to let it stand.
    "For a writer?"
    "The book hasn't actually been accepted yet. It's his first attempt at that length, but he does have a publisher interested in it," Andrea explained.
    To her relief the waiter arrived to take their order. She had barely had time to look at the menu, so she allowed Tell Stafford to make his recommendations.
    "Wine?" he questioned after inquiring how she liked her steak.
    "Nothing alcoholic, thank you. Milk, please," she told the waiter.
    During the meal, the conversation shifted to general topics. Tell Stafford was very adept at what might be described as table talk, Andrea learned He answered each question she put to him, yet when their coffee was served, she felt no nearer to discovering what there was about him that fascinated her. She would have been less than honest if she hadn't admitted that she found his dark looks attractive.
    All in all, she had learned a great deal about him yet knew nothing. He was in his early thirties, unmarried, intelligent and possessed a keen sense of humor. His confidence was unshakable. But the knowledge was all superficial. The sensation persisted that he had learned more about her than she had about him.
    "What's troubling you, Andrea?" He was leaning back in his chair, his head tipped to one side.
    Guiltily, her hazel eyes bounced away from him, aware that her contemplative silence had stretched longer than she had realized. She started to deny that there was any basis for his question, then laughed and answered honestly.
    "We've been talking for almost an hour, yet I have the feeling that I don't know you at all."
    "That makes two of us." Tell smiled and Andrea liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Since the first time I saw you in the lobby, I thought there was something different about you. I've finally come to the conclusion that you don't have the attitude of a predator."
    "A predator?" Andrea frowned with amusement.
    "I've been stalked a few times, Andrea." The dark eyes sparkled across the table at her, his expression displaying no false modesty, nor was it bragging. She had never doubted that women found him physically attractive. She had, too, so his statement came as no surprise. "The stealth and cunning of a female is not something I admire in your sex. My mother claims that my chauvinistic side insists on doing the hunting."
    "I see." His explanation disconcerted her. It was one thing to view him as a man who aroused her curiosity. Only in a most abstract way did she want to look on him as a potential lover. "You rarely mention your father. Is he alive?"
    The corners of his mouth twisted upward, not into a smile because it didn't reach his eyes the way Andrea was by then accustomed to seeing.
    "You're doing it again. Each time there's any mention of a man-woman relationship on a personal level, you veer away from it and onto another subject, but to answer your question, my father was killed in a car accident when I was about ten. My mother has since remarried to a very understanding man. He and I are good friends."
    "That's good." Andrea smiled brightly. "Sometimes there's resentment when a parent remarries."
    "You're not basically a shy woman, Andrea," Tell observed, studying the wariness that sprang into her face as he reintroduced his previous topic. "It isn't any embarrassment on your part concerning the sexual relationship. Yet I have the impression that you're determined to keep a certain amount of distance between us. You'll let me get just so close and no closer. Why the invisible barrier?"
    The waiter arrived with their check, enabling Andrea to evade his question. When she insisted on paying for her own meal,