Who Do You Trust? by Melissa James Page A

behind the barriers in her pretty, suffering eyes.
     

    “Reliable,” huh?
    She’d done it! Even now, she could hardly believe she’d said it. She’d given her demands without negotiation. She’d thrown down her gauntlet, shown Mitch in unmistakable terms that she was not the old Lissa Miller—the innocent, vulnerable, gullible, available girl he’d known. She was a woman now, with a woman’s emotions and needs, and she wasn’t ashamed to tell him.
    Okay, maybe embarrassed, but not ashamed. She had no need to be. She’d put up with far less than second best once, and she’d never do that again— especially not with Mitch. Second best with Mitch would only pave the highway to hell. She wanted to be so much more to him than a convenient wife and mother.
    After Tim left, a few men had showed interest in her, but none of them had remotely appealed to her or begun to patch the deep, dark abyss in her self-confidence from Tim’s desertion…from the life she’d shared with Tim, long before he left. Starting with their honeymoon…she shuddered with the force of memory of those two horrible weeks.
    No! She didn’t want to remember. All she wanted was to forget—as Tim obviously had. Apart from the money he scrupulously paid every month for Jenny’s welfare, he’d put away all thoughts of their disastrous marriage and reverted without any trouble to being her best mate and helper. As if nothing had ever happened to interrupt their twenty-year friendship.
    It wasn’t going to happen with Mitch. She’d be damned if it would! If he ever walked, it would be because she wanted out. And he wouldn’t forget her—she’d make sure of it. He’d wake up nights with sweat pouring down his face and body, dreaming of what it had been like for them, craving more—
    She felt a slow smile curve her mouth…hmmm. Made for sin. Oh, if only she could do it, make him want her so badly she could—
    The doorbell rang. She moved to answer it, knowing the kids wouldn’t bother and Mitch was probably still reeling in shock from her ultimatum. She grinned wider. She liked that idea.
    She opened the door to a man with plain brown hair, a quiet manner, a common gray suit and strangely anonymous dark glasses. “Melissa Carroll? We need to talk. Privately.”
    A quarter of an hour later she shut the door on her unexpected visitor, blinked and checked her watch. Five o’clock. She’d opened the door at nineteen minutes to five, thinking she had some measure of control over her world….
    Now she knew it for the lie it was. Everything she once thought she knew was upside-down; everything had changed. Sick, shivering, scared to her marrow, she had no choice but to go on with this miserable charade with Mitch. Even if the man in gray who’d come to the door hadn’t demanded her total cooperation, and that she keep Mitch in the dark, she would have gone through with it for Matt and Luke’s sake. They’d been through enough tragedy in their short lives without knowing that their beloved father, far from being an honorable squadron leader in the Air Force, a hero from East Timor and Bosnia, was nothing more than a—dear God, she couldn’t even think the words. Oh, that poor little girl….
    Damn you, Mitch! Damn you!
    Fool! Why did she ever think she could trust him? Why did she ever kid herself into believing he’d ever really want her?
     

    “Da-ad! C’mon, Dad, we’ll be late!”
    Despite feeling as if he’d been hit by a truck by Lissa’s ultimatum, Mitch grinned. Matt had bounced back from his momentary bout of insecurity, already taking him for granted again—just as a kid should. “Coming!” He emerged from the room to find his sons bouncing with eagerness outside his door.
    Luke immediately grabbed his hand, his eyes still dancing with shadows. Mitch swung him onto his hip. “Still here, kiddo. I promised, didn’t I?”
    Luke’s whole body relaxed; he smiled and nodded. Matt, with an empathetic look on his face,