Secret Words(8)

Her overheated, overactive imagination was interrupted by the phone ringing once again. She answered it quickly and rather breathlessly. "Hello?"

"Jasmine. Even over the phone you're so sexy."

"Who's this?" she cried in alarm, knowing it wasn't Kane.

"It's me," the caller chuckled and she stiffened in hostility.

"What do you want, Tim?"

"Hey, I'm just calling to apologise for Saturday night. I'm sorry for the way I acted. I blame it on the alcohol."

"And who chose to drink too much, Tim?" she asked coldly.

"You're right, of course," he replied placatingly. "It was entirely my fault. I'm sorry."

"Fine. Thank you for calling."

"Wait, wait!" Tim called out before she had a chance to hang up. "I want to make it up to you, Jasmine. How about I take you out to dinner tonight?"

Her mouth opened in disbelief. This man was really something else. "Sorry, Tim. I can't. I already have plans."

"With your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"I noticed you spent last night alone by yourself in that big house after your parents went back to Melbourne."

The hairs on her neck stood up. How the hell did he know?

"Are you stalking me?" she asked, injecting as much disapproval and coldness in her voice as she could muster.

"Stalking you? Come on. I thought we were friends. Can't friends have dinner together?"

"We're not friends. We're just acquaintances."

"Come on, sweet pea. Our fathers are business partners now. Don't you think they'd like it if the two of us got closer together?"

"You know I already have a boyfriend. You even met him the other night."

Tim chuckled. "Can one man satisfy you, Jasmine? I heard you have a high sex drive. And dating different men gives you ideas for those sexy stories you write. I promise you I'm much better in bed than George. I'll give you lots of ideas for your sex scenes. Please, Jasmine. I'm dying to know what it's like to be with you. You're so beautiful."

"You must be mad! If you don't stop hassling me, Tim, I swear you'll regret it." Her voice was low and shaking with anger. "You know my dad is the majority shareholder in the business and it would impact on your dad —"

"Would you really tell your father?" Tim interrupted. "Do you really want him to know you sleep around so you could write horny little stories? Wouldn't that break his heart?"

"I do not sleep around! Now go to hell and leave me alone!" She ended the call and flung her phone on her bed. Her body shook uncontrollably from outrage and shock. How could anyone think that way of her?

The answer was obvious. George Paulson. The liar ex-boyfriend from hell. That phone call was evidence he had given Tim a copy of the document he stole from her computer.

Her eyes burned with furious tears as she remembered that incident.

George had turned up at her doorstep on a Sunday afternoon when she was in the middle of writing a lovemaking scene for her third book.

She had gone to the kitchen to make them coffee and plated up some leftover lemon meringue cake her mum had made the day before. When she had called for him to join her in the kitchen, he didn't answer. To her dismay, she found him in her study, sitting in her chair, his bulging eyes glued to her laptop screen.

That was precisely the time when George went from sweet to icky. Instead of being embarrassed at being found snooping into her private stuff, he had suggested they find another girl and have a threesome.

She had gaped at him in astonishment. There was nothing in her manuscript about a ménage à trois, so where the hell did the idea that she was up for that come from?

She threw him out, angry and hurt.

It got worse. A couple of days later, she had discovered a 'sent' message from her email folder. George had emailed her partial manuscript to himself from her computer. The hide of the guy! The only consolation about all that was there was nowhere in that document that showed her pen name. Her alter ego's identity remained a secret.

She'd never completed that book and she'd decided to abandon it.

She thought that was the end of it until that horrible day when she was at a coffee shop with Sam and Kris. A woman in her early twenties had approached their table, grabbed a glass of water and threw it in her face. Thank God it was only water, but still, it was shocking.

The woman had accused her of being a cock-sucking, fiancé-stealing, slut-whore and warned her to stay away from her George. She had been so stunned she could only watch as her friends defended her. After much drama, the woman had left, still fuming and cursing at her.

She couldn't understand how George could have fooled them both. But it made her feel a little better that she wasn't the only one deceived. At least she could hang on to the notion that George was an expert liar instead of her being stupid and a bad judge of character.