DISCLAIMER: The Lie to Me characters
are the property of Imagine Television and 20th Century Fox Television. The story
contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2009 by
Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
No More Lies
by
Djinn
Gillian walked
into Lightman's office, holding up a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. "Long day. Join me?"
She sat, poured
the drinks, handed him one without meeting his eyes, then sat back and crossed
her legs in a way that seemed designed to catch his notice. She sipped her drink, her eyes closed, with
no expression on her face except apparent bliss over the twelve-year-old single
malt.
"I know why
you used to do this when you were still with Alec. But why are you doing this now?"
"I can't have
a drink with my business partner?"
"Amateurish
deflection, love."
She took a deep
breath. "Why do you think I did this
when I was with Alec?"
"So you could talk about things that you wouldn't talk about
sober—even if you've never been drunk in here.
I can tell when you're pretending to be more lightheaded than you
are." He leaned in. "I wouldn't have let you drive if I'd
thought you were really tipsy all those times."
"Always
protecting me."
"Always." He gave her the smile that he didn't think
she realized was just for her.
"When did that become a crime?"
"It
didn't." She leaned back and
studied him. "Did you convince Zoe
to stay in town so you could sleep with her?"
He sat back and
laughed softly. He hadn't seen that one
coming—she'd used a decidedly more professional deflection this time. "What kind of response did I just give
you to that question?"
"Delight, you
bastard." She grinned at him. "So, did you?"
"No. I wanted Em in my
sphere of influence. And I'd have missed
her terribly if she'd gone to Chicago with her mother. If Em didn't exist,
I'd have let Zoe go without a care."
"Hmm."
"What's that
mean? Hmm? You don't believe me?"
"No,
Cal. I do. I just like to yank your chain." She recrossed her legs. It took her an unusually long time to do it.
"What are you
doing, Foster?"
"Just having
a drink."
"You're
playing with fire, you are. You tell me
not to read you. You tell me there's a
line. And then you come in here and kick
all the sand around."
"Nice
imagery."
"Thank
you. I've had loads of time to think
about it."
"Have you
now?" She didn't seem surprised.
"I have. Have you?" He stared at her, the way that made most
people nervous, the way she seemed to love.
Probably because that wanker she'd been married to never paid her any
mind—she'd been invisible, supplanted by white powder. She knew Lightman saw her, really saw her,
and liked her anyway.
More than
liked.
"I have been
thinking about it," she said softly, not meeting his eyes. "I was jealous. Seeing you with Zoe. I still am, every time she comes in and you
rush off to her." She held up a
hand as he started to talk. "I know
it's just business with her—I didn't say this was rational."
He didn't bother
to keep the flash of truth off his face.
He and Gillian didn't lie to each other—they only lied to themselves and
then trusted the other to support the lie.
But the truth was he'd slept with Zoe and it had been great fun. But that was all.
Gillian didn't
miss what he'd let her see. "It's
not just business?"
"It
wasn't. But it wasn't love or anything
serious, either. We were both...of a
mind to—"
"Fine. I get it." Her whole body language changed, and Lightman
regretted making her angry and sad.
"I'm a free
man, love."
"That you
are."
He got up and
walked around to lean on the desk, standing way too close to her. He thought she might back the chair up. She didn't.
"And you
weren't a free woman then."
"I
know." She put her drink down on
the desk, slid out of the chair, away from him, brushing past him as she moved.
He reached out and
caught her arm. "You are a free
woman now. Make a choice, Gillian. For the love of God, make a choice and let me
know what we are. Because I don't think
I can stand watching you discover the single life if I don't know where I stand
with you."
She didn't pull
away, didn't turn to him either.
"We're just business partners."
"Look at me
when you say that."
She glanced back.
"We're just business partners."
"You're
lying." He eased her to him, just a
bit, felt her resist for a moment, then she moved.
"It's a bad
idea to get involved."
"Now, that
you believe. I just don't know
why." He pulled her gently then
reached for her other arm, moving her so she was facing him squarely, so he
could see everything she was feeling. It
wasn't misery. It wasn't fear. It wasn't anger.
He'd always been
able to read her.
She met his eyes;
hers were filled with regret.
"You think
this is going to go badly. You think
we'll put our partnership at risk, don't you?"
"We will,
Cal. We will." But she moved closer, and the regret grew.
"Why do you
think that?"
"Because love
changes everything."
"Well, then
wake up, love. Because I've fancied you
for years and it hasn't hurt us." He moved her closer, could see her
pupils dilate, her mouth open slightly.
"And you've wanted me, even if you were too good a wife to think
too much about it."
She looked
down.
"Oh, maybe
you did think about it some."
A small,
embarrassed and more than a little irritated smile appeared.
"And I can
guess what you were doing when you thought of me." He knew she'd have hit him if he wasn't
holding on to her.
"Cal,
don't."
He stood slowly
and the movement put him closer to her, made them equal height. He let go of her arms. "All right, love. This is it.
Your choice all the way. Play or
go home. What'll it be?"
She seemed unsure,
so he let her see something in his eyes he'd worked for the last several years
to keep hidden. Desperate, unmitigated desire.
And then the part he'd never tried to hide: deep regard.
She moaned, a
helpless sound. He was manipulating her
and she knew it. He was manipulating her
because he loved her, and she knew that, too.
She took the step
that closed the distance between them.
Studied his face as he ran his hands up and down her arms, as he reached
around, rubbing her back, getting to know the feel of her—making sure she
wasn't going to run before he tossed his heart to her mercy.
"I'm in love
with you." She looked drunk
now. More than she ever had after
drinking with him. She looked like she
was drowning.
And then she
kissed him, and he felt as if he was the one drowning. Her lips were soft and full and
determined. There was nothing tentative
in the way she touched him, in the way her fingers were running through his
hair, the way her mouth opened up to him.
He moaned and he
could feel her smiling, felt her lips turn up under his as he turned her so she
was leaning on the desk. He pulled up
her skirt. She wasn't wearing anything
underneath.
He stopped,
studied her, a smile growing on his face.
"I don't think this is your usual style, is it?"
"Commando?"
He nodded, even as
he let himself touch, let himself get to know her.
"You're the
expert in human behavior. You tell
me." And then she stopped
talking. She threw her head back,
groaned, and looked up at him with the most sensual expression he'd ever seen
her wear. "Cal," she said, as
she pulled him to her, as she unzipped his pants, as he pushed inside, and they
kissed harder and faster. She wrapped
her legs around him, and he was glad that Alec hadn't had time for her, glad
that she was his now. For this moment,
she was entirely his.
He planned to make
sure she stayed that way.
FIN