Why had she been so quick to leave? After all, he was every woman’s dream man, the perfect candidate for an honest and fulfilling liaison. “Honest?” Lilah snorted at her own single word. Already she’d started them out on the wrong foot by not telling her true identity, not confiding all the ghosts haunting her this past year. Guilt made her leave early. Guilt and fear. She wasn’t afraid of the sex. No, she looked forward to becoming intimate with this man, of sharing that part of herself. What she feared was disappointing him, of being less than what he wanted or needed. To be the woman he desired, she needed to come clean, to tell him everything; her marriage, the murder, her run ins with the media, her inability to cope with it all. Everything. Friday. She’d use the week to rehearse exactly what she wanted to say and Friday, she’d introduce him to the real Lilah Johnson Randall. On their next date, she’d … The front door gaped wide, and the wood had splintered around the lock.
