Loving Lies Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Summer Lovin' Series Titles

  About Renee

  Other Titles By Renee Field

  LOVING LIES

  Renee Field

  LOVING LIES

  Copyright © 2014 Renee Field

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-928178-00-2

  Cover design by Crocodesigns

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

  Reader Warning: This novel is intended for readers 18 and up and contains mature subject matter.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to all the wonderful ladies in my life who encourage me to write and to my wonderful family who continue to support my creative outlet. All mistakes in this book are entirely my own.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Alyssa

  If only my father could see me now. That thought flicks across my mind as I jump over a boulder and continue with my run. And just as quick is the realization my father wouldn’t approve of his “precious” daughter sweating like some poor kid running from the gang. I can’t help but smile at my transformation. Three years ago my idea of exercise was breaking in a pair of new heels while shopping at the mall. God, I can’t believe I was that shallow or lame.

  Thirty-seven months, and yes I’m counting, and my life has transformed and so have I. My neat, pretty appearance with the long blonde locks I used to spend hours curling into perfection is gone. Those locks are now dyed midnight black. The curls have given way to straight hair and half my head is shaved in a Mohawk-inspired cut so out of character that sometimes even I don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror.

  I narrowly avoid the next patch of rough rocks. If I twist my ankle out here it’s a good hour walk back to the resort. Plus, I’d never live it down. My image as the tough city chick would be ruined. Being forced to limp back home would be like the biggest walk of shame and I doubt this rough country crew would ever let me forget it. And where the hell is the lake my new boss, Ralph, talked about? If I don’t come across it in ten minutes I’m turning around.

  With my luck he was lying about the best place to go for a swim. I wouldn’t put it past him. In the short time I’ve been here I’ve learned he likes to play tricks on the staff and I’m hoping the so-called beautiful lake isn’t one. He already tried to get me flustered with what he swears is the best local drink. They call it Stone Cliff Straight, a mix of whiskey, root beer, and stout beer. The stuff is disgusting, but the locals, who are obviously missing a few neurons when it comes to the finer things in life, love it. My boss has assured me that by the end of the summer I’ll love it too. God, that’s a scary thought.

  I crest another hill and the wind picks up. The scent of evergreens and wild roses I have quickly come to love compared to the stench of Toronto’s concrete jungle emphasize this is one sweet summer job. I almost get physically sick though when I finally get to the top. I took up running a year ago to pound the demons out of my head. The old me would have made fun of anyone jogging to be healthy but the new me says, ‘bring it on’. I guess I’m hoping someday all this running will scare off those demons. They say you can’t escape your past. Who the hell cares? All I need is to escape the future my archaic father laid out like a crisp white sheet. His idea of perfect was my idea of hell. I force my stomach to behave and finally raise my head. Then my breath gets sucked from me once again.

  “Holy shit.”

  That’s all I can say as I stare with total longing at the most amazing lake I’ve ever seen. It’s postcard perfect. Before coming to Stone Cliff Resort, which is tucked between a range of Canadian mountains I’d never heard of, I had seen a lot of the world. I’m sure that disclosure would shock the summer staffers who look a bit like I looked when I landed here two weeks ago—desperate for work. As the spoiled only daughter to British Columbia’s Greek shipping tycoon, the world at one time was my oyster. Until it all went south when daddy dearest decided my only asset as a female was the ability to secure contacts through marriage.

  I hate that I instantly recall that horrible day when my father’s mouth spat words like ‘slut’ and ‘whore,’ after he found me in bed with a high school friend. I always knew my father had a temper—fast and loud as he liked to joke, saying it was all due to his Greek roots, but that day everything changed for both of us.

  I shake my head and slowly make my way down the hill to the call of the cool, navy blue lake. Reflections of the two mountains framing each side of the lake create a mirror-like image and all I can think is I can’t wait to come here again with my baby.

  My baby is a Canon EOS—the top of the line camera, which I bought after pawning the jewels my father had given me over the years. I wish I’d taken more jewelry before I ditched my rich life so I could have bought a tripod. I blow the thought away on a breath. Wishes are useless. This summer gig working as assistant bar manager comes with a nice pay cheque and it’s so isolated no one will ever find me here. Heck, if I hadn’t gotten on the shuttle bus from town I would have gotten lost.

  My body is hot and sweaty thanks to the unrelenting sun and while I’m not one to complain about six straight days of sun, at the moment I wouldn’t mind a cool breeze. After living for the past three years in Toronto, this type of heat is refreshing. I strip off my clothes and neatly pile my belongings next to a crop of small boulders and away from the wild roses. The roses tend to attract bees and I’m not in the mood to get stung.

  I dive straight into the water. Ice cold hits me and I gasp as my head surfaces. The water is cold thanks to the snow melt coming from the mountain peaks, but it feels totally amazing. I dip and dive like a frolicking dolphin, knowing I look silly, but no one can see me. It’s only when I’m on my back treading water that I hear a sound which immediately makes my heart speed up.

  I quickly swim behind the cluster of boulders and pray the vehicle I hear barreling down the almost non-existent dirt road will coast right on by.

  No such luck.

  The SUV screeches to a halt, spraying dry dust and rocks in its wake as it finally pulls up to the edge of the lake. I cringe. The last thing I want to see is a person and being totally naked is a huge disadvantage. I’m praying to a God I don’t believe in to use his “force” to make the person stay in the car or better yet put it in drive and speed away.

  Lady luck is a bitch.

  I watch when a guy gets out of the SUV. He’s well-dressed which is so out of character in this area that I can’t help but stare. Comfort clothing like jeans and t-shirts are the norm at this resort for both staff and visitors. Feeling a bit like a peeping Tom I can only watch as the guy totally strips. One minute he’s dressed for what looks like a business meeting and the next he’s in his birthday suit and let me just sigh with longing because it’s the best damn suit I’ve even seen.

  Holy crap. The guy is a walking GQ model and while my nipples are cold because of the water they’re also now pebbled with longing because Mr. Handsome has woken up my dormant sexual hormones. The ones I swore to ignore
after the last two guys I took to my bed.

  Part of me is thinking, what should I do? Should I wave and say, “Hi. Mister, you’re not alone.” But since I’m as naked as he is I’m keeping my mouth glued shut. With any luck he’ll take a quick dip, dry off and leave within five minutes. In the meantime I’m not missing the show.

  He’s got the perfect amount of chest hair. It’s dark brown and dusts his pecs while a darker line of hair travels straight down to his cock. A good girl wouldn’t look at that. Since I gave up good by the age of sixteen, I’m gawking. I can make out a large tattoo on his shoulder and I’m wishing I could see the detail of it better. He must work out because his abs are a six-pack, with nicely defined muscles and not too overdone, which some men these days go for.

  Like me, he doesn’t hesitate. He dives straight into the cold and doesn’t break the inky surface for quite some time. When he does he shakes his head like a wild beast, runs a hand over his face and starts doing the breast-stroke to a small rugged island sitting prettily in the middle of the lake.

  This is my chance and I take it. I sink back down into the water and only when my feet hit the shale rock on the bottom do I dare dart a look back to ensure he hasn’t changed his mind. He hasn’t. I quietly climb out of the lake. Ignoring the fact I’m soaking wet I somehow manage to get dressed in what I think must be my best time yet. Dressed is one thing but wearing wet socks in my new Nikes is downright gross. The soft spongy bottom of my sneaks immediately soaks up the water from my socks and instantly I’m cringing from the squishy feeling against my toes. My original plan had been to sunbathe for a good hour to get dry and work on my tan. I am now loathing the gorgeous man who made me resort to this and I know by the time I get back to the resort I will have ruined my new red sneakers all because he had to stop and go for a swim.

  The irony that I had indulged in the same thing is no longer funny.

  He’s still making his way to the island and curiosity that I should ignore takes hold of me.

  My heart is beating so hard my chest hurts and breathing feels difficult, but I still slink toward his SUV. I eye the pile of clothing he’s left haphazardly on the ground. I’m sure I’ll regret my actions later, but second thought is hindsight. I grab his black boxers with a smile on my face and dash up the hill faster than I would have thought possible in my squishy, wet sneakers. It’s only when I’ve crested the other side, my breathing labored, that the smile I was holding back breaks free. Tucked into the back of my shorts are his briefs. I know what I did was childish, but I’m feeling too giddy to care as I make my way back to the resort.

  Naughty girls come in last.

  That is one of my father’s favorite sayings. I think coming from Greece he has a saying for anything and everything.

  Well, screw you, Dad. Today this naughty girl scored big and she’s got the stolen goods to prove it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Blake

  What the fuck? Where are my briefs? Two minutes later I’m still shaking my head but resigned to going commando. I can’t believe an animal would take them and not trash my other clothes. Fucking weird.

  The strange theft doesn’t squash my gut feeling that says this land holds more wealth within it than above. I wouldn’t even have found this lake if the stupid GPS system worked properly. Next time I’m using a good old-fashioned paper map because while the lake is beautiful I still haven’t found the resort and knowing my grandfather he’ll want a progress update before I’ve checked in.

  I use my phone to take pictures of the lake for reference and make a note to get a mineral survey done of the area.

  Readjusting my pants for the freaking tenth time because my suit isn’t waterproof, I put the rented SUV in drive and head up the rough road praying I’m going in the right direction. I’ve only got a quarter tank left of gas and I’ve been travelling on these back roads for close to three hours. The excitement of the drive, discovery of new scenery and my first real job for my grandfather has long since faded. All I want is a nice cold beer and to strip out of this monkey suit and get into my jeans. I hate wearing suits, but they’re par for the course and my meeting with the new real estate broker my grandfather hired means dressing for the part.

  Twenty minutes later I spy the resort and crack a smile. The place looks exactly how grandfather said it would—homey with a rugged quality about it, but you can tell they’re working slowly to update the place. However, if I seal this deal, the makeover we’re planning will mean bye-bye resort and hello million dollar pay cheques once we get the mine up and working.

  That twinge of excitement courses through me. I’ve worked my ass off the last five years for this chance and I’m not going to ruin it. Unlike my deadbeat, alcoholic father, I want more out of life. Growing up poor tends to make you a fighter. I’m just thrilled that while my grandfather disowned his own son, he took an interest in me. I might have had to work some rough jobs to get through university, but he came through on his promise.

  “Finish your business degree and I will guarantee you a job and train you to be just like me.”

  And that just like me is a man worth over ten million thanks to his business smarts. While he certainly won’t win any contests for being nice, he doesn’t need to care. He’s got enough financial capital that people put up with his abrupt, abrupt attitude.

  Swinging the SUV into the customer parking area, I walk up to the small office. Within minutes I’ve got the key. The young woman behind the counter with the name tag, Amy, tells me I have a message and she hands me a note. Guess the guy I was supposed to meet couldn’t reach me thanks to the mountains which block cell phones so he left a note at the resort. That could also be why the GPS wasn’t working. All this I learn from the bubbly young woman behind the counter, who also informs me the resort is undergoing a make-over. I’m really not in the mood to chit-chat, but I play my charming self.

  She politely starts to inform me about something to do with my cabin, but at this point in the day, I honestly didn’t care. All I want is privacy, a bed and a cool drink. Thankfully the conversation gets cut short once the manager walks in and all her chatter ceases. I excuse myself, thanking her for the information and make my way back to my vehicle. I’m itching in more ways than one to get into my cabin. As refreshing as the lake water was, the high wool content in my suit is a royal pain.

  A few minutes later I pull in next to the last cabin on the left. There’s a faded wooden sign above the door—Sunset Delight.

  How…touching? The screen door squeaks loudly and I have to give an extra yank on the inner, wooden door before it finally lets me in. I cringe when I spot the faded, yellow flowered curtains and brown-beige sofa. There’s even a real 1960’s looking black phone still plugged into the wall which makes me laugh. Who the heck uses those anymore and why keep it?

  I can’t help myself. I pick up the phone and am floored when I hear a dial tone.

  “Stone Cliff Resort. How can I help you?”

  Shit. What to say? “Sorry, I just picked it up to see if it worked.”

  “Oh yes, Mr. Samson, all the phones work in the cabins. It’s a safety measure. The mountains can make cell phones iffy. You left before I could explain that we’re currently all booked for the weekend and we had to put you in the last cabin to be made over, but our plan is to move you on Monday. We do apologize for this. Is there anything I can get for you?”

  “No. I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Don’t forget it’s Sunday night so our bar closes at nine tonight in case you want to grab a drink. Have a good night. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  A drink is exactly what I need. First I’ve got to get my gear from the SUV and I’m praying there’s a three-prong plug for my lap top. I’ve got less than one hour before my meeting. Just enough time to fire off a quick email update to my grandfather, shower and get settled.

  Not only is there the correct plug but they’ve added a power bar. Nice to know they take safety measures seriously.
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  I step into the well-worn bathtub which has seen better days and wonder how all the new cabins which have had their redesign look like on the inside. There’s a stained rust ring by the drain and the caulking’s coming up in the corners. I could fix that in five minutes thanks to a summer job where I worked on a construction site. I learned a lot about the art of renovating homes and even more about what construction guys do for a good time. I smile, recalling the woman who claimed my virginity. At seventeen I was more than ready to give it up and once the guys knew my history, they’d made it their weekend duty to get me laid. After that experience I made up for my lost time every opportunity I could, which quickly gave me the nickname Screw. Back then I wasn’t picky. If a woman had tits and a nice ass I was game, even if that meant she was ten years my senior. They didn’t mean anything to me except a quick screw, hence the horrible nickname.

  I duck my head to fit it completely under the showerhead but the cool water feels great. A quick wash up and I’m out of the small tub within ten minutes. The bed, thankfully, is a queen and I thank my stars there’s no foot board. Dressing quickly, I go for my jeans and a casual t-shirt. It’s early May but even at seven o’clock it’s hot outside. And it’s a dry heat. Growing up in Pickerton, Ontario, I’m more used to muggy heat. This type of heat makes my throat feel raw.

  I take my time as I stroll down the road, noticing a few of the cabins still look in desperate need of paint. Close to the office and the center of the resort I notice a middle-aged guy with a ladder dressed in a painter’s jump suit. I wonder if he’s part of the summer crew, but think he’s a little old for that role. He gives a small nod but doesn’t give me the welcoming smile I’ve come to acquaint with Albertans. Suits me fine. The less people prying into why I’m really here the better in the end.