Page 43 of The Player

The door opened and a forty-something woman with spiked blonde hair, no makeup, and sporting a frown eyed him up and down. ‘Yes?’

‘Hi, Wade Urquart, here to see Liza.’

The woman’s eyes widened as a sly smile lit her face. ‘Nice to meet you, Wade. I’m Shar. Come on in.’

Shar ushered him through the door and it took a moment to register two things.

A pretty young woman bearing a strong resemblance to Liza was engrossed in a jigsaw puzzle alongside Liza.

The young woman was in a wheelchair.

Their heads turned as one as he stepped into the room, the young woman’s lopsided welcoming smile indicative of some kind of disability, Liza’s stunned expression a mix of horror and fear.

It confused the hell out of him.

Why was she horrified to see him? Was she scared he’d run a mile because she had a disabled relative, probably a sister?

The possibility that she thought so little of him irked.

He strode forward, determined to show her he was ten times the man she gave him credit for.

‘Hi, I’m Wade.’ He stuck out his hand, waiting for the young woman to place her clawed hand in his, and shook it gently.

‘Cindy, Liza’s sister,’ she said, her blue eyes so like Liza’s, bright with curiosity and mischief. ‘Are you Liza’s boyfriend?’

‘Yes,’ he said, simultaneously with Liza’s, ‘No.’

Shar smothered a laugh from behind. ‘Come on, Cindy, let’s leave these two to sort out their confusion.’

Cindy chuckled and Wade said, ‘Nice meeting you both,’ as they left the room.

Liza stood, her movements stiff and jerky as she rounded the table, arms folded. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came to give you this.’

He handed her the ARC, his excitement at sharing it with her evaporating in a cloud of confusion. Why hadn’t she told him about her sister Cindy? Did he mean that little to her?

They might not have a solid commitment or long-term plans but he’d thought they’d connected on a deeper level beyond the physical. At the very least they were friends, and friends shared stuff like this.

As her fingers closed around the creased spine from his rapid page-turning the night before, the truth detonated.

His hand jerked back and the ARC fell to the floor with a loud thud.

‘There’s no mention of Cindy in your bio.’

She glared at him, defiant. ‘‘Of course not. I don’t want the whole world knowing about my sister—’

‘What the—?’ He ran a hand over his face, hoping it would erase his disgust, knowing it wouldn’t. ‘You’re embarrassed by her.’

She stepped back as if he’d struck her, her mouth a shocked O.

Anger filled him, ugly and potent. He didn’t know what made him madder: that she’d lied in her bio, that she was ashamed of her sister, or that she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him anything.

He kicked at the ARC. ‘Is any of this true?’

She flinched. ‘My life is between those pages—’

‘Bullshit.’ He lowered his voice with effort. ‘Leaving your sister out of your biography is a major twisting of the truth. Which makes me wonder, what else have you lied about?’

---