Page 1 of The Liar

PROLOGUE – FOUR MONTHS EARLIER

JOANNA

I hurried across the concrete toward the train, dragging my suitcase behind me. The cold air stung my cheeks and burned in my lungs as I gasped for breath.

I was running late.

I was never late.

But then, I wasn’t usually blocked by a truck parked across the road or stopped by security either.

I glanced at the electronic clock above the screen of departure times, and within the two seconds I was distracted, somebody stepped into my path. I bowled into the man head-on. He stumbled backward, his arms windmilling as he tried to catch himself.

My palms landed on his firm, muscular chest, which I might have enjoyed if not for the fact my suitcase hit my calves and I tripped, nearly taking him down with me.

With difficulty, we righted ourselves. I sprang away from him, my cheeks hot.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, meeting his sparkling green eyes. “Are you okay?”

One side of his mouth hitched up—and oh, was that a dimple?

“It’s all right.” His voice was deep but gentle, well-suited to a teacher or a doctor, and his accent gave away the fact he was American like me, rather than Canadian. Another tourist, perhaps. “No harm done.”

“Are you sure?” I’d hit him with a lot of force.

His smile widened. “Completely certain.”

I released a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Everything is going wrong this morning. I swear I’m not usually such a disaster.”

“I’m sorry to hear you’ve been having bad luck, but my day has definitely taken a turn for the better.” He reached behind himself and grabbed the handle of his suitcase. “Are you on the trip through the Rockies?”

“I am.” My heart fluttered. Was he flirting with me? It happened so rarely that I couldn’t be sure. As a female detective, I was used to most men outside of the police force being intimidated by me, and my colleagues were firmly off-limits.

“Excellent. Me too.” He offered his hand. “I’m Westley Gallo, but you can call me West. Can I help you with your things?”

“I’m Joanna.” I glanced down at my suitcase. “I’m fine with it.”

He winked. “I know you don’t need the help. I can tell you’re the type of person who’s always on top of everything, but maybe, let me pretend for my ego’s sake?”

I arched an eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling your ego is perfectly fine?”

“Because you’re an insightful woman.”

“Okay, then.” I passed him my suitcase. Yes, perhaps chivalry was old-fashioned, and maybe he was laying the charm on a bit thick, but the closet romantic hiding deepinside me thought it might be nice to have someone take care of me for once, even if only for a few minutes.

Side by side, we strode toward the waiting train. Somehow, West’s mere presence made me forget why I’d been in such a panic. This train was a luxury experience, one I hadn’t paid for since I’d won the trip in a giveaway, but nonetheless, I doubted they’d leave without all their passengers on board.

We reached the door and showed the attendant our tickets. He scanned them, handed them back, and gestured for us to enter. West hefted my suitcase up alongside his without even mentioning the weight. I wasn’t a light packer; I liked to be prepared for all situations.

Inside, we were greeted by another attendant in a stylish maroon and gold uniform. They escorted me down the corridor to a room on the left.

“This is where you will sleep, Madam,” the attendant said.

My mouth fell open. The cabin was even more gorgeous than I’d imagined, with a bed along the wall nearest to me, a comfortable padded bench seat along the opposite wall beneath the window, and a small, dark wooden desk with an antique chair at the far end.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

The decor was upscale but not ultramodern and made me feel like I could curl up in the corner with a book and a glass of tea and be right at home.

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