Deceive Her With Desire Page 5

  “So fucking tight, Deirdre.” They were the only coherent words she understood from him.

  Gasping oaths of pleasure were murmured and swallowed, their bodies finding their own rhythm of bliss. Deirdre wrapped her legs around his hips, her nails digging into the hard curve of his ass, pulling him deeper, reveling in the onslaught of sensation his body was offering hers.

  Austin’s teeth grazed her neck. His hand molded around her breast, pinching and rolling the nipple, sending electric jolts of the most amazing pleasurable pain coursing over her nerves. Buried to the hilt, he brought her to another climax that caught her unawares, slamming into her and tearing Deirdre apart with its intensity. Her back bowed as he pistoned his hips, skin slapping against skin and Austin’s guttural cries of euphoria lifted with hers.

  He continued to pulse his hips, each of them milking the last of their orgasms. Her body free-floated on a weightless cloud of ecstasy. How long Austin drove her, she couldn’t be sure. Deirdre’s head reeled from the wine, from the lack of oxygen and the mind-blowing orgasms tilting her world.

  Chapter 5

  “So, tell me again where you went Saturday.” Rachel asked for the third time. “Emilio and I looked all over that damn mansion for you. You stormed off in quite a huff.” Rachel blew at the steam rising from the coffee cup in her hand.

  “I was not in a huff. I was tired. And for the millionth time, I went home.”

  “Yeah, right, whatever.” Rachel slumped against the battered seat of the one-ton pickup. Deirdre looked over at her friend who gazed out the window. The eastern sky was just beginning to show the crimson hues of sunrise. It was Monday morning, and they were headed to Shawn’s mansion to start the fall cleanup.

  Deirdre stole a look in the side mirror to check on the wood chipper she was hauling.

  “Now don’t go getting your panties in a wad, Rach. I know you wanted to hook me up, but it just didn’t happen. It was a good party. Got us this job, didn’t it?”

  Without turning, Rachel lifted a shoulder. Her friend knew a lie when it fell from Deidre’s mouth, but Deirdre wasn’t ready to tell Rachel she had a one-night stand with a man, of all people. She was still working out what the whole thing meant to her. She’d spent the day yesterday psychoanalyzing her own motives and really wasn’t ready to have Rachel grilling her on the abrupt gender about-face.

  Deirdre had been nervous about having sex with Austin, the whole plunging in thing. But after the way he made her body sing on the couch, she lost all inhibitions. Still, he surprised her by carrying Deirdre upstairs and slowly stripping the dress from her. She couldn’t bring herself to return the favor, and without a word Austin laid her on his bed, lit candles and undressed himself.

  Even before he loved her with a tenderness she never experienced, Deirdre knew theirs would be a brief affair. Love? Shit, where was she going with this? The memories continued to roll as the miles ticked away on the odometer. It was all she’d done for the past two days, daydream of Austin.

  She thought of how he worked her into another frenzied pitch before sheathing himself with a condom from the generous supply in his nightstand. He seemed to have them everywhere. That fact still stuck in her craw. He was definitely a smooth operator. It shouldn’t surprise her that he did this sort of thing often. But for some reason, the knowledge he had lots of bedmates bothered her.

  Despite that detail, Deirdre’s muscles quivered, and the wet heat of want dampened her panties. She shifted on the vinyl seat of the pickup, trying to soothe the itch growing deep inside.

  His cock was oh, so hot and stretched her in a way no latex imitation ever had. He slid into her slowly, drawing out gasps of need until she was pleading with him to fill her completely. His body was solid and hard and comfortably heavy on hers as he pushed deeper with each gentle roll of his hips. He kissed her face and breasts, whispering words of endearment until they climaxed together—again. She’d liked that. Hell, she’d loved it.

  They’d… she couldn’t say made love, that implied something more than what had happened between them. She couldn’t call it screwing, because she’d actually felt something for the man. Whatever it was, they’d done it two more times quite satisfactorily before Austin had fallen asleep from exhaustion. The man was an insatiable beast, but even the mightiest warriors rested.

  It had taken all of her willpower not to snuggle against those broad shoulders with her fingers burrowed in the soft tufts of hair on his chest and lose herself in a dreamless slumber.

  Instead, she snuck out of his bed, slipped into her dress and turned tail to run like a timid mouse back to her hidey hole. No note to thank him for the evening, or a phone number to remember her by. She left only the lacy black thong she hadn’t taken time to locate before jumping into the truck and all but squealing her tires all the way back to Delmont.

  Austin deserved better. He was a good man. She’d treated him like crap.

  He lulled her into a comfort she hadn’t felt with another human being in a long time. It had been foolish of her to unload her family’s burdens, but he’d been so understanding. With his head pillowed on her shoulder, his finger drawing lazy circles up and down her torso, he’d shared the grief of his own parents’ deaths.

  Later, when she talked in generalities about the breakup with Brianna, she watched the concern furrow his brow and purse his lips. One couldn’t fake that kind of compassion. She experienced a twinge of guilt over not telling Austin her ex-lover was female. But some secrets were too intimate even for pillow talk.

  Despite their pledge to keep their liaison noncommittal, Austin thought only of her pleasure all night. Even Brianna hadn’t been that unselfish a lover. In the end, his words and actions had bonded them with something much stronger than their physical desires.

  Deirdre was a complete ass. Both for thinking their fling had a deeper meaning than it did and for treating another person with such callousness.

  She guessed it probably didn’t matter now, anyway. It was what it was, a single night of uninhibited sex. It’s what she’d wanted. Then why did her stomach continue to flip at the thought of the man with the curls as black as a midnight sky and eyes that raged like the ocean when he was in the throes of an orgasm? Deirdre shook the question off. She definitely didn’t want to go there today. She forced her mind to focus on the road and the day ahead.

  Finally arriving at the Jameson estate, her work crew of three young men dragged out of the van that had followed the pickup from Delmont High School. The teenage boys wore their surly attitudes as obviously as the gangsta clothing hanging off their gangly bodies.

  Deirdre smiled.

  She automatically liked these kids. She’d been one of them herself less than a decade ago, tough, streetwise and ready to fight with the world. Only the concern of the vocational teacher climbing out from behind the steering wheel of the van had saved Deirdre from herself.

  Much to her parents’ relief, Mark Pearson had taken her under his tutelage her senior year in high school and shown her the error of her ways. She’d traded in her shoplifting habit for studies and relegated her pot smoking and beer drinking to occasional weekends. Deirdre hadn’t become a complete angel, but she’d graduated with honors and found a vocation in landscaping.

  She’d gone to the vocational college in Bangor where she’d earned a degree in horticulture and a basic small business background. She’d opened the landscaping business and floral shop with her sister, Meghan five years ago. They’d nearly folded until their oldest sister, Julie, had come back from college three years ago and used her business degree to turn all the red on the books to black.

  Deirdre would always be grateful to Mark Pearson for seeing the potential in her no one else had bothered to find. She repaid the favor to her mentor by taking on some of the tougher kids in his vocational program at the high school for work-study jobs like this, hoping to be part of their success stories.

  “Morning, Mark.”

  “Rachel. Deirdre.” The
smiling man reaching out his beefy hand stood barely five and a half feet tall in his work boots. His hair had turned from salt-and-pepper to snow white in the last decade. The power of his grip as he shook Deirdre’s hand contradicted his diminutive stature. The kids behind him knew, as she did, nobody messed with Mr. Pearson.

  “Gentlemen, this is Miss Sawyer and Miss Tilling. These are Steve, Cody and Blake.” He pointed to the boys in turn, and each removed his sideways ball cap before shaking hands with the women.

  Mark’s head swiveled, taking in the mansion and the grounds. “Nice place. How’d you get this job?”

  “Got an invitation to a party,” said Deirdre.

  “You? Here?” Color flooded Mark’s cheeks. “I mean…”

  Deirdre cut him off. She didn’t want to hear him stammering over the differences of her social status compared to the owner.

  “Some of us are moving up in the world, Mark.” She bumped her shoulder against his to let him know the observation hadn’t bothered her. The man hadn’t meant for the truth to sound like an insult. “Okay, gentlemen, we have a lot of work ahead of us. Let’s get started.”

  She pushed them through the morning, not only because the property required more work than she had initially believed, but more importantly, she understood the boys needed to be challenged both physically and mentally. Deirdre had allowed them only an hour off for lunch and to roam the property with Mark while she and Rach firmed up plans for the two-week cleanup.

  Now, two of the boys were out in the back gardens with Mark, tilling and mulching while she worked with Rachel and Cody in the worst of the trees. They’d managed to prune three trees before lunch, another after and were just beginning the fifth. If she could stay at this pace, they’d finish trimming all the trees lining the driveway in just about four days.

  Deirdre shut off the chain saw and clipped it to the utility belt slung low on her hips. Her arms ached from wielding the tool all morning. The leather gloves and chaps were hot, but she was too much of stickler for safety to remove either. Despite the fact that she’d stripped off her heavy sweatshirt, the green T-shirt molded to her body. Sweat ran in rivulets down her back and between her boobs. A sheen of moisture and sawdust covered every inch of exposed skin. Damn, she loved this job.

  “Lower away,” she yelled down at Rachel who was standing in the driveway thirty feet below.

  Sidestepping to another limb, Deirdre maneuvered the severed branch away from the tree, allowing the rope and pulley system to bear its weight. Rachel’s calm voice wafted up through the leaves as she patiently helped Cody with the guide rope. A chainsaw kicked to life and Rachel supervised as Cody cut the branch into manageable pieces, the smallest of them going into the wood chipper, the rest stacked for firewood.

  Deirdre rolled her neck, hugging herself tight, trying to work out some of the kinks in her shoulders. Pruning large trees was hard work, but she loved this part of her job. Suspended by only the lanyard hooked to the belt, she felt as if she were flying. She shielded her eyes, looking through the pumpkin-colored leaves at the sun perched high in the cloudless sky. Life just didn’t get any better than this.

  Deftly climbing through the tree, she set herself up to cut another branch. She hesitated a moment before starting the saw. Listening to the wood chipper eating up the limbs below, spitting the detritus into the back of the one-ton, she heard the motor sputter. This was the last big job of the season. She said a silent prayer the machine kept going until they finished Jameson’s estate. With the extra money she got from this job, she could afford to buy several pieces of much needed equipment, including a new chipper. Until then, this one would have to be coddled.

  The ear protection she wore couldn’t muffle the high pitch of a car horn. Deirdre watched a car swerve around Rachel and speed up the drive. She wanted to climb down from the tree to give Jameson’s high and mighty guest a piece of her mind. Why did some people think they were better than the hired help?

  But as the car sped up the driveway, she recognized the taillights of the black Jag disappearing around the corner and lost all the fight in her. What the hell?

  * * * *

  Leaning against the frame of the sliding glass doors, his back to the work crew in the driveway, Ayden stared at Dave pacing the Oriental rug. Ryan sat on the leather sofa, nervously tapping his fingers on his knee. Ayden checked the watch on his wrist for the hundredth time. Two-fifteen. Even Jameson’s minion, Rob, was wiping sweating palms on the thighs of his jeans.

  After the butler had offered them drinks nearly a half hour earlier, no one had said a word. He wasn’t surprised Jameson was making them wait, but hell, it was getting his guys worked up. The ticking of the clock over the mantle was like a gong in the silence of the mansion. Even he was getting impatient. Hopefully Jameson would believe they were only anxious about cutting a deal— not setting him up.

  The two thugs from Saturday night were standing by the open double doors. The men hadn’t bothered to take their weapons. Everyone in the room was armed. It was expected. No one was wired because Ayden had bugged several of the rooms on Saturday, including this one.

  He knew from experience, if Jameson was their man, he would likely sweep the mansion several times a day for transmission equipment. Ayden only hoped the new gadgets he’d planted were one step above the detection equipment Jameson owned. As of yesterday, they were still working. But he wouldn’t know for sure if their meeting was being recorded until he met with his team this afternoon at the command post two towns over.

  He listened to the high-pitched whine of the chainsaws and tried to focus on anything but his jangled nerves. He’d beeped a greeting at the work crew as he maneuvered the Jag around the equipment. From the scowl on the woman’s face, she thought it was a reprimand. She was a cute little thing in that clingy T-shirt, but since Saturday, he had eyes only for redheads, not brunettes.

  The unhurried click of shoes echoed in the hall. The twin bookends guarding the door jumped to attention.

  “Gentlemen, sorry to keep you waiting.” Shawn Jameson breezed into the sunroom. He wore a high-end suit and expensive leather loafers. One notch above the dress pants and sports jacket Ayden was wearing. Ayden hoped that would be the case. Never outclass the potential boss.

  “Thank you for being so patient. I had some other business to finish,” Jameson said.

  More likely he’d been watching them on closed-circuit television.

  They settled themselves around the coffee table, Jameson and Rob in the leather chairs, Ayden and his men across from them on the couch. Jameson threw the manila folder he’d been carrying on the antique tabletop.

  No doubt Austin Schaeffer’s dossier.

  Ayden met Jameson’s gaze with a level stare. He knew his alias checked out, but it took everything in him not to swallow the heart that had leapt into his throat. Body language communicated more than words in a meeting like this.

  Leaning back, Ayden settled his foot on his leg and wrapped his hands around his knee. He would not be the first to break the silence. He forced his mouth into a smile, pleased when it didn’t waver.

  “So, let’s not play games here, Schaeffer.” Jameson sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re both businessmen.”

  Ayden waved at him to continue.

  “I’ve had my people do thorough research on you. Very impressive.” He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Seems you have the market share of Portland and Boston. Why have you come to me?”

  “We’ve been working those cities for years. I’m looking to expand my holdings in Philly, perhaps further out, maybe not.” Lifting his shoulder, Ayden worked to keep his tone noncommittal. “As you know from your research, one of my suppliers has gone under.” What he meant was the DEA had pulled down a big cartel in the Boston area six months ago. It had been quite a sting, but Ayden hadn’t been allowed to go near that operation. “I’m interested in expanding not only my customer base in those cities, but my p
roduct line as well.”

  “I see. And you think I can help you in both those areas?”

  “As you said, we’re both businessmen, Jameson. I’ve done my research as well. Rob assured me we had the right guy to fit our needs.”

  Rob shrunk in his chair at Jameson’s withering look.

  Ayden didn’t have time to spin his wheels and needed Jameson to step up to the plate if he was their guy. If not, the DEA had to move on. “But if our information is wrong and you can’t help with our product supply and distribution problems…” Standing, Ayden kept his gaze steady on the man holding all the cards, gauging his reaction. “Well, then, Mr. Jameson, we won’t take any more of your time.”

  Jameson laughed. “Touché, Schaeffer. Nice volley. Sit. Let’s talk. I have a feeling we’ll make great business partners.”

  The knot in Ayden’s stomach released its grip. He’d cleared the first hurdle.

  * * * *

  Deirdre’s frustration mounted as she maneuvered her hands around the engine. She’d be damned if she’d let the ancient piece of equipment win this battle. “Hand me the three-quarter-inch ratchet.” She held her hand out to Mark. Like a precision surgical team, they were working on the motor of the wood chipper that had coughed its last billow of smoke and died.

  She’d tinkered with the motor in the driveway until she realized it would take more than a swift kick to the drive train to get it started again. Deirdre had finally relented, sending Rachel and the students to work on the gardens and backed the rusty old piece of crap into Jameson’s huge garage. Of course, she had to move out of the way for the two vehicles squealing their way off the property. Stupid, rich idiots always thought they had the right of way.

  She’d stared at the Jag still parked in the dooryard, attempting not to think about Austin or why he was here. But truthfully, thoughts of him were the only thing churning her brain and making it hard for her to concentrate on the task at hand.