Private Lies. Wendy Etherington

on the side of the case as he returned it to his pocket. The case doubled as a camera, and he intended to run his lovely lady’s face through the federal criminal database.

      He took a drag of the cigarette, fighting the urge to cough. He leaned toward her, speaking so only she could hear. “So, are you going to tell me where I know you from?”

      Her full red lips flattened. She practically snarled at him, then she whispered in his ear, “Well, the other night the sex was pretty interesting, even if it was a bit rushed.”

      Her voice was different this time, less husky. And he knew it. He knew it very well.

      Oh, hell.