Divine Liaisons

by Poppet

  DIVINE LIAISONS

  by

  Poppet

  #1

  A Thorstruck Press Publication

  Published by Thorstruck Press in 2011

  Copyright author Poppet

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organisations, events or locales, or any other entity, is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Chapter 1

  It's easy to do. You're so busy watching the creep stalking you, you walk straight into the next person.

  “Are you okay? Sorry about that.”

  Strong hands steady me. Not tight, just firm. Commanding. And they haven't let go.

  Snapping my focus front and center, the muscles directly in front of me, close enough to feel the warmth of him, make looking up a hundred times harder.

  Heat infuses her guilty stain into my cheeks.

  His hands feel as good as the voice he just wrapped around me, like a cocoon of throaty silk.

  Breathe in, slowly, you can do this.

  Looking up, and up, until it's enough to give me neck-ache, The Hulk is staring back down at me with gentle toffee-brown eyes. His perfect skin still holds the sun, it brushes his complexion with wind, outdoors, fresh air.

  “I-I'm fine.”

  His focus darts over my head, his lids narrowing ever so slightly.

  “Is someone bothering you?”

  Yes actually, the son of my dead boss seems to want to find me, so please let go so I can get out of here before he sees me.

  But instead my throat has ceased. The swallow is forced, it hurts.

  He leans down, getting close to my ear, his hot breath washing into my neck when his lips graze my skin they're so close, “Need a chaperone to your car?”

  If I could just close my eyes and freeze this moment, I would die a happy woman.

  “Uhm...”

  C'mon Sarah! Snap out of it. He's going to think you're retarded.

  “Yeah,” I pause to clear my windpipe, he's giving me a giddy vertigo. “Uhm. That would be great.”

  No hesitation from Mr Capable then. His hand slips from my arm, curling his arm around my shoulders, and starts to walk, with purpose.

  He glances at me, while I do the two-step trying to keep up, “What was the problem?”

  It's hard to put into words, and I doubt you want to hear my paranoid delusional theories for the rest of your night. I'm sure the Hustler ladies are already oiling up, waiting for you.

  “It's a long story, suffice to say, I have an admirer. And it creeps me out a little.”

  We're through the doors, heading to the parking bays.

  “Which car's yours?”

  I nudge my head at the midnight Polo. “That one.”

  And off we go, trotting like two horses about to start fillying about.

  “Nowhere is safe. It's ridiculous when women need a buddy system just to get groceries.”

  “I doubt he'd hurt me. He just freaks me out.”

  Please tell me this breathlessness is only because you walk so damn fast.

  Mr Lickable stops at my car, bracing an arm against the curve of the roof.

  “Sorry, I didn't catch your name?”

  “Sarah. Sarah Tempest.”

  His smile sends a weakening frisson smack down my spine, short-circuiting everything on the way down.

  “Nice to meet you, Sarah. I'm Dustin.”

  I smile, knowing I now look like I just escaped the facility and the white jackets are after me with tranquilizer darts.

  A card is shoved into my hand, “Call me when you get home.”

  “Uh – why?”

  Yes goddammit, why!?

  He gives me a lazy half smile, “So I know the creep didn't follow you home.”

  Gripping my hand, he depresses the remote, opens my door for me, and ushers me into the vehicle with an insistent hand at the small of my back.

  G-O-D!

  He is loaded with magic hands. I don't think I have the strength to drive now. Just put me in your pocket and take me home. I'll be a good little slave, I promise.

  The door slams shut with finality, instilling the urgency I've injected him with. He taps the roof, telling me to get the hell home with a single rap of knuckles on my tin can.

  Starting the car, I press down the window. “Thanks!”

  His smile is cordial, his sharp gaze never leaving mine until I look forward and push it into first gear with a shaky arm.

  Easing my numb leg off the clutch, I dare a last look at him, trying to drink in as much as possible without being obvious. My breathing is all over the show, like I'm having a panic attack.

  Maneuvering past the car in front, I dart my surreptitious reconnaissance over him, flashing back up to have cardiac arrest when my eyes meet his. It's smoldering. I bet he brands every woman he looks at, just with the heat in those eyes.

  Gulping, still holding my breath, I force a mad-dash smile, and press the accelerator.

  God, get me out of here before I lose the will to breathe on my own.

  Turning the corner, I just see him running out of the store. Halting on the top steps, his eyes narrowed, his body rigid, lips purse while his sandy hair gusts in the breeze.

  He saw me! Shit!

  Then his eyes slip across to Dustin, then back at me.

  Mr Obsession is furious.

  I wonder how much a gun costs?

  Chapter 2

  This is ridiculous. My hand is shaking, turning the card over and over between fingers, in my other hand is my iPhone.

  I really want to call Dustin Risi, personal trainer extraordinaire. But surely he was just being polite? And if I do phone him, then what? I make a total ass of myself, while my eyes roll into the back of my head, and I bite my own tongue, because he turns me inside out with a smile.

  For fuck's sake, Sarah. You're thirty, it's time you grew up.

  Send him a text, just to be polite and follow through in case he really meant it, and move on.

  Decision made, the tapping of my nails is the only sound.

  There. It's done, no harm – no foul. This is me, moving on.

  Rat-a-tat-tat.

  Putting my phone down, looking at the door, it really bugs me when people knock like that.

  Weaving around the white couch, I head to my pretty white door. I like clean, and when I see my white door, it always gives me a sense of serenity.

  “Who is it?”

  “Erik.”

  It's a lumbar punch to the base of my spine. All the strength I have, flees. Steadying myself with a hand on the hall table, I stare at the door with a dry mouth.

  Then my phone starts ringing.

  Shit!

  “Hang on Erik, I just have to get the phone,” I say to the door.

  I don't want to let him in, but I can't exactly ignore the fact he's right there, can I?

  “Hello?” I speak into my phone, wobbling back to the front door.

  “Sarah!” shouts from the other side of my door.

  “Hello Sarah,” purrs into my ear.

  “Hold o
n,” I tell the mystery caller, I didn't have a chance to look at caller ID, “Erik, I'm coming!” I yell to the door again, getting to it and flicking back the locks and opening the door.

  Turning my back, I lean against the wall for support.

  “Hello? Sorry about that, someone just arrived at my front door,” I say into the phone.

  “Who is it?”

  I don't even know who I'm speaking to and he wants to know who's at my door?

  “Who is this?”

  “Dustin.”

  And that's me, destroyed. Slumping down the wall, I sit on the tiles, watching Erik stomp to the lounge and lean against the couch, folding his arms, watching me.

  “Oh hi. Erik just arrived.”

  “Who's Erik? Your boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Sarah, you're not exactly saying much. Is this a bad time?”

  “You could say that.”

  “I'll call back later.”

  “I'd rather you didn't.”

  “Wow. Sorry for bothering you. My apologies.”

  Shit!

  “No, um, that's not what I meant. I'd rather we speak now.”

  “But it's a bad time.”

  “Yes it is, very.”

  I'm trying to relay I need help, but he's not getting it. And I don't want to outright say, hey my stalker is in my lounge, would you mind getting here before something bad happens?

  “I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

  “I did, thank you.”

  My calm is returning. His voice has a rumbling timbre of inherent strength, it's giving me a transfusion, and my courage is coming back.

  “But? What's going on?”

  “Erik is here.”

  “Who is Erik, exactly?”

  “You know.”

  A few seconds tick over, and Erik's piercing gaze is sharpening.

  “Wait. He's there?”

  “Yup.”

  “Listen, Sarah. I know my timing sucks, but I was calling to see if I could take you out sometime. How would you like to step up that invitation, to say, right now?”

  “I'd love that.”

  “Give me your address.”

  I can hear noises, he's just got into a car, and it sounds as throaty and muscle bound as he does.

  “Eighteen, Cat Hollow Drive.”

  “I'll be there in five.”

  He hangs up in my ear.

  “Great, see you then...” I keep talking. “Thanks for calling. Bye.”

  'Disconnecting' I look at Erik. “Hi, what are you doing here?”

  “Are you okay?”

  I swear he fakes his concern. Any reason to invade my life is a good one in his opinion.

  “Yes. Why wouldn't I be?”

  “You looked spooked. I saw you bump into that huge guy when I stopped to get stuff for dinner. Was he bothering you?” His gray eyes deepen, “Did he hurt you?”

  “Erik, you could have phoned.” I give him my syrupy 'fuck off' smile. “No, he didn't hurt me. We actually seem to have hit it off. We're about to go out. He's going to be here any second, and I would like to change before he gets here.”

  He nods, linking his ankles where he lurches against the back of the couch, “Okay. I'll wait.”

  No Erik, go away! That was a hint!

  Pushing cold fingers into my eyes, I press to lessen the severity of my tension headache. Jumping when his arm wraps around me, so fast I don't have time to step back.

  “Are you sure you're okay?”

  He's only about five inches taller than me, but sometimes I swear he feels like a mountain.

  “Yes.”

  He always does this. He stands too close. He tries to get intimate. Stiffening, I wait for him to move, staring at a perfect nose in a mousy face. He's a nerd, plain and simple. And I'm a jock with a nerdy job. I like books, I always have. But that doesn't mean I'm attracted to scrawny guys who look like they've never camped a night in their life.

  “You can let go, Erik.”

  His hand tightens, as if he doesn't want to, before dropping his arm and breathing at me. I hate that too. It's fine to have someone's breath shrouding your face when you're anticipating sucking their lips into your mouth just to taste them. But when there's no attraction, it's downright gross.

  A sharp, bullying knock, thumps my front door.

  Jesus that was quick. Did he run every red light to get here?

  “I'll get it, you go change,” Erik orders, like the man of the house.

  “It's okay, I've got it,” I say back, disdain coating every syllable. “You should probably go.”

  I smile when I say it, using the next knock as a reason to walk abruptly to the door, putting space between us.

  Opening it, Dustin steps in, without even greeting me. He's on high alert, and in a second flat, I feel safe.

  He puts his hand, with a fairy touch, at the bottom of my back again, glancing down at me with a smile before narrowing his eyes at Erik, “Ready to go?”

  The question is aimed at me, even though he's doing the macho male alpha thing at Erik.

  “Dustin, this is Erik, he was just leaving,” I nod at Erik. Dustin strides to him, swallowing the space in three steps, towering like a tornado over a Chihuahua.

  “Dustin,” he says, shoving his hand at Erik, pumping his hand, but Erik doesn't flinch.

  I know from the tension communicated in that grasp, it had to hurt.

  “Erik,” he says, in a tone I've not witnessed from him. It's ruthless, threatening. He's not even backing down.

  “You were leaving? Just in time, we're off out ourselves,” Dustin says, directing Erik to the door.

  This guy is fabulous!

  Erik darts me a devilish glare, “Call me if you need anything.”

  Ha! That'll be the day.

  “Thanks, I will,” I smile sweetly.

  And before he can say another word, he's been coerced beyond the threshold and the door is closing in his face.

  Dustin is a dervish, he moves so quickly, he's next to me before I can even perv at him, or inhale.

  “Sarah?”

  It's laced with concern. Why should he care? He's only just met me.

  “Thanks for coming,” I say.

  His smile is naughty, neat and white. Perfect teeth.

  “Want to fill me in? Why is your stalker in your home? That's what locks are for.”

  “It's a long story. We sort of know each other. But he has designs on me, and can't take a hint.”

  He moves around the couch, settling himself opposite me, resting elbows on his knees, linking his hands, looking like a pitbull ready to pounce at a moments notice.

  I'm tired, and need a drink.

  Moving around the couch, I sit down and face him. Noting the way the waning light chisels his jawline, the strength in his neck, the vein running up it; sexy does not do this man justice.

  “Erik is my boss's son. She died three weeks ago. We were the only two in the library at the time. I feel guilty. I feel bad for him. But he hasn't left me alone since the day the director asked me to take him to dinner and make sure he was okay. How do you tell a grieving man to piss off? You can't. But there's something off with his behavior around me. He just gives me the jeeblies. And he always magically shows up wherever I am. It's definitely stalkerish.”

  “I see.”

  That's all he has to say. Well now, isn't this awkward.

  “I apologize.” When he speaks, it's mesmerizing.

  Huh?

  “What for?”

  “I used checking on you as an excuse, to call you.”

  I'm smiling, like an idiot. I know when I'm wearing my goofy face.

  “I'm glad you did. You've rescued me twice now.”

  “So, should we bale? I'll take you somewhere cozy, a spot Erik will never find.”

  I feel like chum hanging in front of a starving shark.

  “Um, what about your girlfriend? Or raving fan club?”

  Ooooh lo
rdy. The naughty smile just turned boyishly wicked.

  “I don't have a girlfriend.”

  “How come?”

  He leans back, lacing his arms out on both sides of the back of the couch he's on. It forces his chest into highlight, dramatically tensing his tight t-shirt across his abdomen. His chest is huge, and those abs are flat, parading a six-pack.

  I'm staring. Stop staring. Look up. Look up!

  I unstick my rude eyes to look into his, and he's smiling a guilty smile. It makes me want to caress that chin just to feel the dimple in it.

  “I'm picky.”

  “And I'm worthy of picking?” I know I'm smiling, this is like winning the lottery.

  “Something like that.”

  So suave, it's killing me slowly.

  Collecting my wits, I straighten, “Jeans okay? I just want to change.”

  “Whatever makes you comfortable. My place has no dress code.”

  My place!

  “Feeling presumptuous, are you?”

  His toffee eyes narrow again, and he loses the rascal edge to his grin.

  “Well...”

  Laughing, I stand, “It's okay Dustin. I'm teasing.”

  His expression sends a shiver right through me, lingering a second too long in erogenous zones. It clearly expressed his thoughts. I'll show you teasing.

  Oh God help me.

  His sharp lines soften when he smiles, captivating my attention, muscles ripple when he moves his arms back to his knees.

  “Go dress, before I change my mind.”

  Now hang on a sec.

  “Change your mind?” I challenge. I'd like to know the justification for that statement.

  His eyebrow slants, it's cute.

  “Sarah, this is all a bit spontaneous. You wouldn't want to scare me off. You could be a serial killer. This could be your M.O.”

  Laughing, it's such a tension breaker, I catch his chuckle; the chemistry just notched up.

  “Right. Let me just get the silencer, and I'll be right back with my nine-mil.”

  Before I lose courage, I get to my room, yanking off the work skirt faster than I have in my life.

  Pulling on a long sleeve black tee and jeans, I stuff my feet into Converse, spritzing a fresh dose of perfume in cleavage.