The Liar's Wife (Adam Levine Dark Romance)

Don't Miss! It's Only Temporary (An Original Romance Novel)

Dear Readers: If you enjoyed the Obsessed Series, I hope you'll check out my currently ongoing novel: It's Only Temporary. I'm including a sneak preview below.  Please find the book under my profile (@adam_and_jane). Thanks for reading!

A conversation she was never meant to hear...

An email he was never meant to read...

The whole future can change in an instant, when you're living your life week to week.

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It's Only Temporary: An Original Romance Novel

CURRENTLY ONGOING!

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He was standing in the entrance to her cubicle, leaning in at her with his arms braced on either side of the doorframe, slowly shifting his weight forward onto the balls of his feet and then back again. Forward and back. Over and over. What was it about the way this man moved? Penelope looked away.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, like I never heard that one before.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was my job to entertain you, Ms. Stewart.”

“Did you need something, Mr. Welsh?”

She looked up at him. He was just standing there smirking at her. Penny for your thoughts, indeed. He knew exactly what effect he had on her. Didn’t he? She raised her eyebrows at him.

David had lost his train of thought. He’d come over here to ask her something. What was it again? She was typing. What was it about the way she typed that he found so mesmerizing? She was terrible at it, for one thing. Two finger typist. How the hell she made it past the temp agency recruiter, he would never know. She would sit there with her shoulders hunched forward over the keyboard and her fingers poised in the air, hunting for each letter before she hit it. Then lifting her finger and hunting again. Over and over. Excruciatingly slowly. He could have written whole novels in the time it took her to compose one email. And the typos! For someone who typed that slowly, you’d think she would at least be accurate.

Not that he minded the typos. It gave him an excuse to come over and talk to her. “So I see we’re spelling my name now with two V’s…”

She never apologized. Not once. She’d just shoot him that withering look of hers, like how dare he criticize her for misspelling his name. It made him smile just picturing it. “Just a suggestion,” she would shrug. “I read in Cosmo, women prefer men with two V’s in their name.”

“Interesting. The dollar sign in place of the letter S is also a nice touch.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were embarrassed by your money…” Smartass. There was no way some of those typos were accidents. The letter S was nowhere near the dollar sign. She had to be doing it on purpose. She had to know how he looked for any excuse to come over and talk to her. Didn’t she?

“David?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you need something?”

“Right.” He had come over here to ask her something. He forced his mind to shift back to the task at hand. What was he doing right before he came over here? Oh right. The restaurant had called to confirm his dinner reservation. He’d forgotten he had a date tonight. He took his hands down from the doorframe and pulled two ties out of his trouser pocket, holding them up for her examination.

“Which tie?”

She squinted at them. One was a shiny pale green and the other was purple with dark blue checks. “What’s wrong with the tie you’re wearing?”

He was in one of his bright red power ties. The kind that screamed, “Don’t let my boyish looks fool you! I am a successful businessman!”

“It’s a little conservative,” he said. “I’m trying for the badboy look. You know?”

She nodded. “Where are you going?”

“Lutece.”

“Nice.”

“Well, you picked it, so—“

“Did I?” She remembered now. He’d asked her to book the reservation. His big first date with the hotshot female attorney who’d been suing the firm for securities fraud. He’d been called as a witness. They’d ended up settling before the jury came back with the verdict – cost the firm God only knew how many millions – but he’d returned to the office with even more of a strut in his step than usual.

“Did you win?” Penny had asked him.

“I always win,” he’d responded, flashing a business card triumphantly. “Got her number, right there on the courthouse steps.”

Penelope tamped down the flare of jealousy she felt – always felt, every time he had a date. She didn’t know why it got to her so much. It wasn’t like it was going anywhere. There was a new one every week. Lawyers. Bankers. Management consultants. Even the stray college professor, thrown in every now and then for flavor. You could fill a whole rolodex with just the ones from the Upper East Side.

She forced her attention back to the two ties he was still holding up in each hand. “I’m thinking green,” he said. “Right?”

“No tie.”

“I have to wear a tie. It’s Lutece. There’s a dress code.”

“Jacket required. You can get away without a tie.”

He scrunched up his forehead at her.

“Are you a badboy or not? Badboys go to Lutece without a tie.”

“And should I ditch the blazer for a leather motorcycle jacket while I’m at it?”

“Hey, you asked me for my opinion.”

“This is what I get for asking fashion tips from a 22 year old.”

“I’m 24.”

“You are?" He looked at her in surprise. "I could swear you told me 22.”

“Yes, I did. And I believe that conversation took place my first day of work, two years ago.”

She’d been working here for two years? How the hell had that happened? He should really put her on the payroll already. It was getting ridiculous, calling the temp agency to renew her position every Friday. It wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to him, but something always stopped him from following through on it. He wasn’t exactly sure what. Something about the fact that the temp agency signed her paycheck every week. As long as he wasn’t the one signing the checks, she was someone else’s employee, right? Not an ethics violation to flirt all day long with someone else’s employee.

“David,” she called after him, stopping him just before he made it through his office door. “Wear the purple one.”

With his back still turned to her, he held the purple tie up to his neck, looking down at it skeptically. “Purple, huh?”

“It’ll hide the stain better when you dribble steak juice down your chin.”

He broke into a grin. Smartass. “Good point,” he said over his shoulder, just before he closed the office door behind him. “See, I knew there was a reason I keep you around.”