Liar, Liar (4 page)

“I love your dress!  Who’s the designer?”

“Thank you.  It’s Armani,” I answer with a smile.  The woman sitting next to me nods approvingly.

With the auction part of the evening coming to a conclusion, a flurry of waitresses arrives to hand out canapés and refresh drinks before the award presenting commences. 

“I always enjoy this part of the evening.  The food is delicious, and the champagne is divine.”

“It certainly is,” I agree, taking a small bite of the Peking duck pancake.

I discreetly glance around the room, hoping to lay eyes on Benny Duncan, but so far, I haven’t seen him.  I wonder where he is sitting and whether he is having a good time.  Rather than analyzing why I am wondering these things, I ignore it, and continue looking for him in between making small talk with the lady next to me, whose name I can’t recall.

“Are you nominated for an award tonight?”

I turn and face her, tearing my eyes from the crowd.  “Hmm?” I murmur, not hearing her question.

“Are you nominated?” she flicks her head slightly toward the stage while keeping her eyes on mine.

“Oh, no,” I say through a gentle laugh.  “Are you?”

“I wish.  I don’t know who I’ve got to sleep with to get my name on that list, but I’ve been trying my damnedest for years and I still can’t manage it.”

I splutter my wine at her candid admission.

“Oh, uh, wow,” I stutter.

She gives me a raised brow and a sly grin.  I simply widen my eyes at her and take a bigger gulp of my Cristal champagne. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if everyone could please find their seats, we will be commencing the awards ceremony shortly,” an announcer says. 

A few minutes later, the ceremony starts.  I wait patiently until the last award is being presented, and then I begin to get antsy.  This is the award Benny is nominated for, and even though I don’t know him or have ever said more than two words to him, I still want him to win.  Badly.

Admittedly, I have seen his cock, so that has to count for something, right?  It was remarkable and featured in a very impressive dream I had last night that had me
aching
when I woke.  I should be embarrassed, because I was impressed with the length
and
girth of it, that I found it hard to stop staring.  He wasn’t ashamed and he certainly didn’t give me the impression he wanted me to look away in a hurry.  I don’t think I will ever forget the moment his cock jerked, right in front of my eyes.  At the exact same time, my stomach had clenched.

“Are you okay?  You look a little flushed.  Here, use my fan, I always keep it handy because the air conditioning is always hit and miss at these awards,” the woman beside me says.

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks,” I reply, lifting my champagne to my lips, loving the way the sparkling liquid bubbles on my taste buds.

“The nominees for our final award of the evening are an extraordinary bunch of professionals.  I’m sure you’ll agree, they all deserve an award.”  A round of applause sounds around the room before the presenter continues.  “The nominees are: Michael Baynes, of Vedi Advertising.  Walter McMahon, of McMahon and Finch Management.  Benjamin Duncan, of Duncan Realtors.”  A hush goes over the crowd as the presenter opens the small envelope in her hands.

“And the John Dunston Award for Overall Business Excellence and Innovation goes to… Benjamin Duncan!”

I gasp, and clap along with everyone else.  My heart beats franticly in my chest and a smile lights my face. 
He won.

Benny strides up the stairs to collect his award.  He kisses the presenter on the cheek and then accepts the statue and certificate before walking up to the microphone.

“Thank you all so much for this incredible honor.  I have worked tirelessly to build and broaden my company’s horizons, and by winning this award tonight, it gives me satisfaction to know I have succeeded.  Congratulations to the other nominees and award winners tonight, and thank you to the John Dunston award committee for hosting an amazing event.”

He walks off stage and music begins to play, signaling the ending of the ceremony and the beginning of the after party.  I stand and give a friendly smile to those around the table.

“Have a good rest of your evening,” I murmur.  As a waitress passes, I lift a fresh glass of Cristal from her tray and walk off into the crowd, determined to find Benny Duncan and congratulate him on his win.  Oh, and to introduce myself properly, and to possibly apologize for my change room mix-up indiscretion.

When I finally spot him, he is talking to a group of men who appear to be congratulating him.  I wait for a moment, taking a sip of my champagne to bolster my courage, and letting my ‘game face’ settle into place. 

I am a professional.

This is my job.

I am a liar.  A damn good one at that.

I stride with a purpose over to him and give a friendly smile to the men as they notice my approach.

“Good evening, gentlemen.  Sorry to interrupt,” I gush apologetically.  I notice two of the men eyeing my body hungrily.  The third has his eyes planted firmly on my breast area, and as my gaze meets Benny’s, I see he is smirking in recognition.

“No need to apologize,” one of the men says, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from Benny’s to acknowledge the others.

“I just wanted to introduce myself, and congratulate you on your win tonight,” I tell him, speaking loudly so he can hear me over the music.

“Excuse us,” Benny murmurs to the others.  Taking my elbow, he leads me into a quieter part of the room.  Even when he lets me go, I can still feel his grip on me.  My skin feels as if it is burning, but not in a way that hurts.  In a way that feels
amazing.

“Let’s start again, shall we,” I say through a grin.  “My name is Makenna Banks, and I wanted to congratulate you on your win tonight,” I say.

“Thank you, Makenna.” 

His voice. 
Oh wow, his voice.
  It is rich and deep, with a small hint of a rasp that settles over my skin.

“I think we attend the same gym,” he throws out with a rueful grin.  His dimples appear and my knees wobble slightly.

“Uh, yes, about that.  I apologize for the incident yesterday,” I say nervously.

“No need,” he says, waving his hand slightly.  “Are you having a good night?”

“I am.  It’s been lovely.  And you?”

“I am now,” he rasps, and my heart skips a beat.  “Do you dance, Makenna?”  His question catches me off guard, and then I notice the band is singing a cover of ‘A Soft Place to Fall’.

“I’d love to.” 

He takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor when others are moving slowly with their partners.  Benny takes my hand and places it on his shoulder before gently holding my other hand firmly in his, just away from our bodies.  I am hyperaware of his hand that rests right on the small of my back.  If he spread his fingers apart, he would be touching my ass.

As the song continues, we gradually move closer together, as if it is a natural progression.  Everyone else in the room falls away and it is just me and Benny swaying to the soft strains of the music.  Releasing my hand from his, he moves to place it on my other hip while I rest both of my hands on his shoulders.  He pulls me in just a little closer, and my arms wind around his neck so my head can lay on his chest.  I hear his heart thumping beneath my ear, beating in steady synchrony with my own.

Somewhere, in a very small part of my brain, in a very quiet voice, my subconscious is whispering that I need to get on with the job.  I reason this
is
my job.  I am building a relationship with him.  I am luring him in.  It isn’t like I can just throw myself at him and smash our lips together while simultaneously snapping pictures for Regina.  It doesn’t work that way.  It’s not like my heart is beginning to get involved.  It’s just a dance.

Deep down, I know the only person I am lying to now, is myself.

I become mesmerized by the soft pants of his breath, as it skates along my ear.  The beating of his heart hypnotizes, and the spicy scent of his cologne consumes me.

As the song begins to come to an end, I suddenly remember where we are.  We are in the middle of a crowded room, surrounded by highly influential people, and I am slow dancing quite inappropriately with a married man.  I step back and look up into his eyes.

“Thanks for the dance,” I say, after a moment of silence.

“Trust me, Makenna, the pleasure was all mine.”

“Well, it was lovely to meet you, Benny, and congratulations again on your award.”

“Thanks very much.”

“Uh, maybe I’ll see you around sometime at the gym,” I say.

He gives me a pointed look that makes me feel slightly nervous, a little self-conscious, and a whole lot of something else I can’t put my finger on.  Whatever it is, it makes me feel…
at ease
.  Which is a massive contradiction to the other ways he is making me feel.  Still, I roll with it, giving him a shy smile.

“I hope so,” he finally manages.

“Have a good night,” I murmur before turning and walking off the dance floor.  When I’m few feet away from him, I turn and look over my shoulder.

Yep, he’s checking out my ass. 
Win!

“Do you believe in fate?” I ask Estelle when she brings in my morning coffee.  Setting the styrofoam cup down on my desk, she gives me a look with a raised brow.

“Yes.  Why?” she asks hesitantly.

“Just wondering.”  I tap my pen on my desk, lost in my thoughts.

It has been three days since the awards ceremony.  The ceremony where
I won
the most prestige and coveted award arguably in our industry, and definitely of the night.  I can’t help but wonder if fate played a part, considering I had made the promise to myself to proceed with a divorce if I won.

Then there is Makenna Banks.

After thinking on it, I am positive I haven’t seen her before, except for the two occasions at the gym.   This surprises me, because a woman as beautiful as her sure leaves a mark on a man, any man.  She is memorable, and incredibly beautiful.  The natural kind of beauty, not the superficial, collagen-injected, plastic kind of beauty I have become accustomed to from being surrounded by it my entire life.  Maybe that is why I find her so alluring?

“Is everything okay, Benny?” Estelle asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes, of course,” I say, snapping back to my usual professional self.  “Just a hypothetical question was all.  Now, if you could bring me the reports and files on the current available rental properties, I’d like to see about boosting their advertising.”

“Sure thing,” she murmurs, still giving me a slightly confused look.  “Your messages are by your coffee.”

With that she is gone and I set about returning a bunch of ‘urgent’ phone calls, which aren’t that urgent at all.  If people learned to contact the correct person, I would have to do a whole lot less phoning back.

***

“I understand that, Mrs. Styles.  However, if you have an issue with air conditioning, then you need to phone the maintenance person in charge.  I am positive you have his details, because I have given them to you the past four times you have called me.”

“Mr. Duncan, I call you because I know you’ll get the job done,” she tells me.

“Mrs. Styles, I am going to connect you directly to Barney.  Please contact him in the future with any maintenance problems.  I assure you he is he prompt and efficient, and will handle your issues in a timely manner.”

“Oh, thank you so much! I really appreciate your help.”

I stab a few buttons on my phone pad and transfer the call through.  I am positive some clients believe I have nothing better to do than to field phone calls on issues I don’t handle.  Quite frankly, it pisses me off.

By the time I leave the office, it is late.  Rather than make my way home, I have my driver take me to the gym.  Given the time of night, there aren’t many people around, which suits me fine.  After changing into my shorts and tank, I choose a treadmill and start off with a jog before building it up to a fast run.  The longer I run, the faster my heart beats, the more I sweat, and the less I think about the shit going on in my life.

Thirty minutes later, I wind it down and step off.  I find a free rowing machine and work on my arms and legs.  I grind my teeth as my arms and thighs begin to burn, but I push through.  I’m not ready to go home yet.  Wiping the sweat from my brow, I look up to see Monique approaching.  She is a giant pain in my ass who never seems to get the hint I’m not interested, no matter how often I have to tell her.

“Hey, handsome,” she says with a grin.

“Monique,” I grunt, pulling back harder than necessary on the rowing machine.

“I just thought I’d pop by and say hi.” 
Yeah right.  She never just wants to say hi
.

“And see if maybe you’d like to grab a quick drink, after your workout, I mean.”

“Sorry, Monique.  I’ve got plans.”

“Are you sure you couldn’t postpone them for me?  We don’t even have to get a drink… we could just take a trip to the change rooms,” she offers in what she probably believes is her most sultry voice.

“Thanks, but no.”  Dismissing her, I stand abruptly and move to the boxing bags.  I need to beat the shit out of something.

Monique walks off in a huff.

“What’d the bag ever do to you?”

Hearing the sound of her voice, I turn, wiping my forehead with my forearm.

“Hey,” I pant, breathless from my energetic workout.  I pull off my gloves and toss them down on the mat.

“So… why are you pissed off at the bag?” Makenna asks with a smile on her face.

“Just working out,” I reply with a shrug.

“Would you like a juice?” she asks, biting down on her bottom lip.

“Sure, why not.”

We make our way over to the juice bar lining the side wall of the complex.

“You always work out this late at night?” I ask, knowing I haven’t seen her here at this time before.

She shakes her head.  “No, I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to run outside.  Might get mugged, you know.”  She grins, but for some reason, something claws at my gut at the thought of her getting hurt.  Rather than stew on my feelings, I drink a mouthful of the cold apple and guava juice I ordered.

“So, Makenna, what do you do for work?”

“I’m a waitress,” she replies.

My brows crease a little.  A waitress? I would never have guessed.  The vibe I was getting from her screams office professional, but I suppose I’m wrong.

“What about you?  You’re in real estate, right?  Commercial or residential?”

“Both, actually.  The business was primary focused on commercial real estate, until I introduced the residential sector a while back,” I reply.

She brings her straw to her lips and I can’t help but watch as she wraps the pouty flesh around the plastic.  Clearing my throat, I force my eyes up to meet hers.

“That must take up a lot of your time,” she comments.

“Yeah.”  It wouldn’t really, only that is the way I choose for it to be.  If I actually enjoyed my home life and wanted to spend time with my
wife
, I wouldn’t work, or work out so much.

“So, Benny, what do you like to do in your free time?” she asks before taking another sip of her drink.

Free time?
  I don’t have any free time.  Any time I spend away from work or the gym is spent sleeping.  If I actually
had
free time, I would have to spend it with Regina, attending her charity galas or pretending to the perfect, doting husband that she gushes about to her bitchy bunch of socialite friends.  Fuck that shit.

“Let me guess,” Makenna says, snapping me back to the present.  I realize she is filling in the silence because I haven’t answered her question.  “You enjoy painting.  No, your fingers are too meaty for those dainty paintbrushes.  Hmm… you’re a super awesome baker, but you never eat the goodies you cook because with a body like that,” she says, gesturing to my stomach area.  “You can’t be scarfing brownies every chance you get.  So maybe you donate your home-baked goods to the homeless?”  She gives me a sly grin and I shake my head slightly, unable to hide my own grin.

“If I did have any free time, I’d probably spend it hiking in the mountains just out of town,” I tell her honestly.

“Ah, so not only are you a gym junkie, but you’re also an outdoor fitness freak,” she quips.

“You could say that.  Let’s just say, it’s a necessary evil,” I mutter, throwing her a wink.  “What about you, Makenna?  What do
you
like to do when you’re not waiting tables?”

“Um, well, I also like hiking.  I enjoy reading and swimming, too,” she replies, but my mind is stuck on the
swimming
part.  Imagining her in a bathing suit, like the one she had on when she walked in on me in the change rooms, has my cock jerking in my shorts.  I clear my throat and force the thought from my mind.

We finish off our drinks and then she stifles a yawn.

“Thanks for the juice, Benny.  It was great to see you again, but I better be heading home.  My bed is calling my name.”

“It was good to see you again, too, Makenna.  Do you live far from here?  I can have my driver drop you home.”

“Um,” she hesitates.

“I’m leaving now, as well.  It’ll be no trouble, and it’ll save you a cab fare.”  I don’t want to be rude, but I doubt waitressing pays a whole lot.

“Sure.  That would be great.  Thank you.”

“No problems.  Just let me grab my gym bag.”

We both stand and she reaches down to swing her own bag over her shoulder, while I walk into the change rooms and take my bag from my locker.  I meet her out by the doors and we walk toward my waiting car.  I open the door for her and she slides in.

“What’s your address?” I ask her quietly.

“Two-seventy-one Grange Avenue,” she replies.

I notify my driver, Frederick, of her address and we settle back in for the ride.  It turns out Makenna doesn’t live far the gym, and we arrive at her apartment block within a few minutes.

“Thank you so much for the lift home, Benny,” she says, giving me a blinding smile as she exits the Bentley.

“Anytime, Makenna,” I murmur, returning her smile.  I watch her walk inside the lobby area before I give Frederick the go ahead to leave.

***

“I thought you would have been home hours ago,” Regina snaps as I unlock the front door and walk inside.

“I went to the gym.”  I walk by her and dump my gym bag in the laundry room before heading toward the kitchen for some dinner.

“You know, a phone call every now and then to keep me updated of your whereabouts would be nice,” Regina bites out, and I realize she has followed me through the house.  I also notice the half empty glass of amber liquid cradled in her hand, and the slight slur to her words.

“Why would I start doing that now, Regina?” I ask. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Benny.”  Sarcasm drips from her every word.  “Maybe because it’s about time you started growing up and acting like the husband you’re supposed to be.  I’ve been patient long enough.”

She’s so fucking spoiled.

“You’ve had enough, Regina?” I snap.  “
You’ve had enough?
  Let me let you in on a little secret. 
You
wanted this marriage, and
you
knew I didn’t.  Yet
you
conspired with my parents and yours to make this go ahead, so
you
are not the one who gets to throw a fucking poor me pity party.  This bullshit between us was
your
doing, so it’s
your
cross to bear.”

She gasps and has the audacity to look shocked.  Not at what I said, but at my use of foul language in our home.

“I can’t believe you just spoke to me like that, Benjamin,” she sneers, and she sounds just like my mother.

“Fucking deal with it,” I spit, turning and walking out of the room and into the bathroom.  I lock the door and turn on the shower.

First thing tomorrow, I’m phoning my lawyer.  I need out of this bullshit.