Lost in Deception

by Anita DeVito

  He stood straight, pulling out of her grip. She fought him, not ready to let go. He stepped back. “Let your hair down.” Her breasts lifted with her arms. Such a beautiful sight. He kept his eyes on her as he took his own shoes and tossed them, shed his clothes.

  The moment he was naked, he went at her again. There was no stopping this time. His mouth claimed her, his tongue granting no quarter. His hands raked at her hair until it covered both of them. He slid down her body, his mouth caressing, nipping, teasing every peak and valley until he knelt once again before her.

  In all the sex Tom had had, he had never been dismantled the way she did. Even as he was determined to drive her insane with his attention, he felt that she was the one with control. Determined to break her, he lifted her leg until it rested on his shoulder. Her fingers dug into the leather edge of the bar as she arched back, letting him have his way. He blew gently on her core, swollen and heated from his attention. Her hips rocked, and her body wept for his attention. Lifting her hips to his mouth, he feasted until she fell to pieces. Wave after wave, he fed on her pleasure, driving her to the point of delirious exhaustion.

  “Tom,” she wept, her voice thick.

  “Up you go, monkey girl.” He lifted her as he stood, her core to his chest. With his eyes locked on her, he slowly let her slide down his body until she felt him pressing against her entrance. Locked in her gaze, he let her sink until he was in her. So deep, he felt her heart pumping against his cock. His arms locked around her back, and he began to thrust. Slow and controlled quickly deteriorated to wild and reckless. He walked with her across the room and laid her out on the card table, hooking her legs over his arms and driving even deeper.

  He couldn’t breathe fast enough, and then he wasn’t breathing at all. Locked inside her, he emptied himself. His rigid body slowly relaxed until his chest fell onto hers.

  He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. There was more there than the satisfaction of a good lay. It was in the way her eyes smiled at him and the curl to her lips. She rose up, cupping the back of his head and kissing him. It wasn’t a kiss filled with the heat of raw sex. Just the opposite. It was warm and inviting and more potent than anything he’d ever experienced.

  And scared the living crap out of him.

  “We, uh, better get dressed, you know, in case the others come back.” He withdrew from her silky core, feeling instantly cold. Offering his hand, he helped her from the table and then retrieved their clothes.

  “Hey?”

  “Hmmm?” He tossed her dress in her general direction and then shrugged into his pants.

  “Look at me.”

  He didn’t want to, but she waited. What a picture she was. Her long hair fell across her toned body; her dress pressed to her breasts. He couldn’t see anything, but he saw everything.

  And so did she.

  She crossed to him, rose to her toes, and pressed a kiss to his chin. “Should we…talk?”

  He flinched but covered it by snatching her dress, pulling it over her head and into place. “Why don’t you take a shower? I need to work a little longer and then make dinner.” He dressed quickly, skipping shoes and socks, then ushered her into the courtyard. “Poppy is home from his day out. He has a surprise for you.”

  He left her in the hallway, praying she didn’t follow him into his lab. Talking was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Friday, April 14 six-thirty p.m.

  The perfect scene out the kitchen window couldn’t be real, Peach thought as she rinsed another dinner plate. Poppy sat on a chair with a guitar across his lap, picking at a song she remembered him playing when she was a girl. Katie leaned back against a chaise lounge, her husband sitting at her feet with a guitar of his own, leaning in to watch Poppy’s fingers. Not to be left out, Taylor sat wedged next to Katie’s knees, watching Butch watch Poppy. Jeb, Nate, and Tom were still at the table where they all had eaten in twenty minutes the dinner that took Tom over two hours to prepare.

  She didn’t know this kind of familial camaraderie existed. Weren’t families supposed to squabble and fight? That’s what her roommate did with her sisters. It was nice to listen to the music and to the laughter. Dinners with Anderson’s family had been very different. They were always formal, no matter the food, and never easy. No one laughed. It may have been banned. Here she was, washing dishes from a meal she helped cook, wearing a creamy cable knit sweater in Tom’s closet that hung to the middle of her thighs. She wore her favorite black yoga pants under them, leaving her feet bare. She let her hair, still wet from the post-coital shower Tom had talked her into, hang freely. It would take hours to dry if she tied it up.

  She thought Tom looked sexier than ever in a plain black T-shirt and jeans. Both looked custom made for his broad body and hinted at her favorite places. She sensed a change in him. It was more than whatever prompted the tantrum this morning. Since the very memorable make-up sex, he was acting nervous around her. He jumped when she put her hands on his hips while he was cooking. He still kissed her; he hugged her when she asked. But despite his body being against hers, he felt a world away. The screen door slammed, and she jumped.

  Carolina came in with the last of the dishes. “Nice evening,” she said, looking over Peach’s shoulder. “He looks happy.”

  Peach squinted, trying to see if Tom did look happy. She almost made a comment about the after effects of sex when she realized Carolina was talking about Poppy. “He is happy. He’s making friends. A Widow Teasdale. They went ‘antiquing’ today. He bought me a peach.”

  Carolina wiggled her eyebrows when Peach looked over her shoulder. “She’s a sweet lady. She has a reputation as a cougar.”

  “A cougar?”

  Carolina frowned. “Isn’t that the word for a woman who goes after a younger man?”

  Peach turned green. “Poppy is the younger man? Oh God. You think she’s trying to seduce him?” She set cookies on a plate and poured cups of coffee. “I can’t think about things like that.” She carried dessert to the table where Tom sat. “What did you guys do today?”

  “We talked with Hawthorne.” Tom took his time retelling Hawthorne’s story to the captive audience.

  “Then there is no doubt?” Poppy asked as he rose to his feet. “My son was murdered.”

  Peach ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She glared at Tom, shooting daggers with her gaze. Instantly, emotion choked her. Tom was there with her, his arm around her shoulder, around Poppy.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it that way. My mouth gets ahead of my brain.”

  “Sugar does not make a pill easier to swallow. No. It is better to know. Him dying at the hand of God was one thing. At the hand of man, I…I need some time.” Poppy turned to Tom’s rooms.

  Peach held tightly. “Stay out here with us, Poppy. I will call the police again tomorrow. I’ll take care of Tío, and we will figure out what to do next.”

  “That is what I am afraid of.” Poppy patted her hair. “Tom, thank you for a wonderful meal. Tomorrow, I will make a favorite dish from my grandmother.”

  All eyes watched Poppy walk strongly and confidently across the white stones to the front door to Tom’s wing.

  “I admire your grandfather,” Jeb said. Everyone agreed, and the sentiment filled Peach’s heart until it threatened to drown her. She knew Poppy was great, and it meant a lot that these people they had known for a few days recognized it.

  It was a good way to end a horrible event.

  And then it was real. So real it choked her. “It’s over. We can go back.” Her voice was strained as she tried to tame her feelings. Keep it impersonal. Report out. “Carter vandalized the crane. I guess there is something sweet in the fact that the bastard was killed by his own hand.” Tom laced his fingers through hers, and she squeezed them, clinging when she never clung.

  Chapter Twenty

  Friday, April 14 seven-thirty p.m.

  Peach planted her shoulder in the middle of Tom’s back and pushed.
Getting the man out of his laboratory was like getting a cop out of a donut shop. Getting a kid out of a candy store. Getting blood out of, well, anything. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

  “I’m not. I’m working. I just got the acetylene torch in. I need to run some experiments.” He spun to the right, but she cut him off. “Why won’t you let me be?” The question had the bite of vinegar.

  “You can play with your toys tomorrow. They sent me to get you. I’m beginning to think I was set up. First this morning and now this. Are you always as asshole when you work? You figured it out. Now relax a little.”

  “It’s not enough. I have to know exactly how he brought the crane down. Will you stop pushing me!”

  “OCD much?” She stopped pushing but closed the door to his office and stood firmly in front of it. Sure, he had her in terms of pounds, but she had training and experience. She’d make sure he wasn’t going to hide for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, her superpowers didn’t extend to him not being a jerk. “Out the door, mister. There’s a party waiting for you whether you like it or not.”

  She could see his brain working. He telegraphed his thoughts. Upstairs? Out the door? Getting past her?

  “Don’t waste your time. Come on.” She opened the door to the courtyard and held it, certain she could chase him down if he decided to bolt. Actually, she kinda hoped he did. Another wrestling match with him sounded just fine. She stretched her arms, her back. It paid to stretch before physical exertion.

  “Fine. If you all are going to gang up on me, I guess I have no choice. For an hour. That’s it.” He waved a finger in her face as he drew the line in the sand.

  It was another beautiful night. Even with the lights from the house, a million stars could be seen beyond. She stopped. “Do you see your favorites tonight?”

  He stood beside her and let out a long sigh. “Yes. There she is.” He pointed over her shoulder, giving her an excuse to turn into him.

  “What’s she up to tonight?”

  “I don’t know. She doesn’t tell me her secrets.”

  She looked at his face, so serious, so handsome, so…unhappy. “She’d probably make a trade. Her secrets for yours.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Everyone does.” Sensing he wasn’t ready, she changed the subject by looking to the dark windows above them. She wrinkled her nose. “I really liked that room.”

  He let out the breath he held and tried. “I thought you like mine better, right?”

  She wanted to see him smile. “The amenities are nice but small.”

  “Nice? Small?” He pulled her close and tickled her. She fought but not too hard. When he was laughing with her, she made her escape. Breathless, she bounded across the courtyard, in through the door, and landed in a sea of men.

  Three men lounging near the bar came to attention at her entrance. Butch worked the bar, filling glasses with beer and liquor. Jeb bent over the card table, setting it with chips and drink coasters. Her face heated, remembering how the felt brushed her skin as Tom laid her on it.

  “Peach,” Jeb said. “This fine gentleman is Doc.”

  An old man with a full head of white hair and whiskers that would give Santa Claus a run for his money came across the room. He moved easily, a bounce in every step and a smile that was an invitation to relax. “That’s an insult, Jebediah, callin’ me a gentleman. Please to meet you, ma’am.”

  She leaned in to shake his hand. “Nice to meet—Aaugh!”

  “Gotcha.” Tom laughed as he pulled Peach’s back against his front. Her heart pounded a hundred miles an hour as he tucked her into his side.

  “Hey, boys, Doc,” Carolina said joyfully as she entered the room, her hands filled with a tray of snacks. “This is my brother Nate.”

  “We met at the wedding,” Doc said. “At the bar.”

  “I remember,” Nate said. “Good to see ya again.”

  Poppy came into the room, dressed for a night of entertainment. His pants and shirt were his favorites, brought from his home, but the jacket was new. She had never seen him in tweed.

  “Poppy, this is Doc. This is my grandfather, Pedro Morales.”

  More pleasantries were exchanged and more beer opened. “Good thing we ain’t playin’ at your house, Doc,” Butch said. “No way we’d fit around that table of yours.”

  “I owe you one. Calling like you did. Those old ladies are enough to drive a good man bad,” Doc said.

  “Oh, Doc,” Carolina chided. “I’m sure they aren’t that bad.”

  “The hell they aren’t.” Doc shuffled the deck of cards. “Every single one of them tries to corner me to get free advice on spots and growths and aches and pains. I retired to get away from all of that. Now it comes to my house.”

  “You should be grateful any woman wants to talk to an old goat like you. Now stop your bellyaching and deal the cards.” Jeb tossed his ante into the center.

  “Carolina, aren’t you playing tonight?” Doc asked.

  “My money’s playing. I staked the best player at the table.”

  “Thank you,” Jeb and Nate in unison and then glared at each other.

  Peach chuckled at the fun. She remembered this from her earliest days at the poker table. She had loved the rhythm and fun of the banter long before she was old enough to understand it. “She’s talking about me, geniuses.”

  Both men looked up at Carolina, a little confused and a little hurt.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It’s business.” Carolina pulled a bar stool to the corner behind Jeb, then pulled another one over for Poppy.

  Peach played the first hands slow, feeling out the competition as the banter and chatter kept the play lively. She started with the people she knew.

  Katie played her own cards smartly but didn’t bother to try to play her opponents. Peach thought back to when she first met her. She didn’t waste energy on what others were doing. Even when she should.

  Jeb played from a position of strength and decisiveness. He did a good job intimidating the others into playing by his rules. He tended to play by gut, not by odds.

  Butch was the wild card among them. He didn’t seem to play by any rules, but he was lucky as a four-leaf clover. She saw him take two pots, flipping three of a kind on the river card.

  Nate played the odds straight up. He bet big when he had big cards, little when he had little cards.

  Doc took his time making decisions. He had the best poker face, playing all hands at the same speed, with the same interest.

  Tom was the closest thing to the total package. He knew the odds and how to play them, and he knew the tells of the others. He was aggressive but not stupid. And he gave away nothing.

  It cost Peach half of the money Carolina staked her to scout the competition. “I’m out this hand,” she said. “Anyone want a beer?”

  Carolina joined her behind the bar. “This is fun.”

  “You aren’t worried you made a bad investment?”

  “Because you’re down a few bucks? Please. Plus I have an extra fifty in my bra if you need it.” Carolina winked and took two of the bottles back to the table.

  Peach opened a cold beer and tipped it back. She licked her lips and smiled. It was time to get to work.

  Doc stood as he threw down his last hand. “You brought in a wringer,” he said to Jeb.

  “I’m down to my last twenty,” Jeb said. “It’s Tom’s fault. He’s the one who wanted to play.” It wasn’t ten o’clock, and half the table was done. Butch sat on the couch, flipping through channels. Katie lay next to him, her head on his lap. Nate played video games with Poppy, who was damn good at Deer Hunter for a blind man.

  Peach shuffled the cards. “Play now. Whine later.”

  Jeb tossed his ante in when the front door bell rang. “Who the hell can that be? And how did they get through the gate?”

  “The gate was open when I pulled in,” Doc said.

  “Butch,” Jeb growled.

  “We were having company.
It would have been rude to keep the gate closed.” Butch lifted Katie’s head gently and got to his feet. “I’ll see who it is.”

  “Who’s in?” Peach said, waiting for the chips to come in.

  Tom cocked his head, sizing her up. “Something tells me your luck’s about to change.” He tossed the chips her way.

  “When you’re as good as I am, all you need is…Anderson.”

  Anderson Bingham shoved past Butch and pulled Peach out of her chair. “Look at you. More beautiful than I remembered.” His cashmere-coated arms held her tight against his body.

  “Anderson?” she repeated. “You’re here?”

  “Finally.” Anderson took a small step back and bent so that his hazel eyes were level with hers. He smiled a little, just a curl on the one side of his mouth, and drew his fingers down the length of her hair. “It wasn’t easy to find you. But I did it.” There was satisfaction in his voice, the thrill and pride of accomplishing something even he didn’t believe he could. Anderson looked around, suddenly aware of the collection of shocked faces surrounding them. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately?”

  She nodded without talking, without blinking. Her universe was imploding. The house suddenly didn’t have enough air to breathe, didn’t have enough space to move. She needed the open. She walked in a daze to the front porch, not looking back. Two rockers were angled toward each other at one end of the porch, and she managed to get to one before her legs gave out. She looked up and, yep, he was really there. The man of her nightmares…and fantasies. “Wh-what are you doing here?”