Deceiver

  Short and sweet. I text Dan back. “He said sure. We’re on!”

  By the time I get home, I have worked myself up to butterflies. My hands shake as I tweak my mascara. This is crazy. It’s not like it’s our first date.

  Should I talk to him about Albus tonight? No. I don’t want to ruin our night out, and I also don’t want to be arrested in this new dress.

  I turn to examine my left side in the full length mirror, then my right. Not too bad. The dress has a very risky slit up the side, high enough even to show my goodies if I’m not careful. I spin around, looking over my shoulder trying to see which is bigger, my ass or the great state of Texas. The task proves to be a little too difficult to pinpoint. It’ll have to do.

  I do one final check of my makeup, spritzing the last few curls that aren’t already petrified, and then slip on my ultra-fine hooker heels. Ah! Not too bad, if I do say so myself. I’m kind of psyched. I’ve never dressed up like this for him before. I walk out of my room with a few minutes to spare.

  “Wow!” Josh stares, slack-jawed, from the couch.

  That’s all the confidence I need! “Thank you, honey.” I beam.

  “What time are they getting here?”

  “They should be here any minute. Do you have everything you need for Amelia?”

  “I think so. There’s a pizza in the oven, popcorn in the cabinet, some sodas in the fridge, and this.” He holds up a My Pretty Pony video and rolls his eyes.

  I laugh. “Well, I owe you big time.”

  “It’s fine. Consider this my contribution to your promotion celebration. Or my penance for the stunt I pulled last night. Either way, you deserve it.”

  I’m about to get misty-eyed when there’s a knock on the door. “Oh! They’re here!”

  Panicked, I turn to the left, then to the right, and then stomp around in a circle. Finally, I stop and blink at Josh.

  He stares at me as if I’ve totally lost it. “Mom. Chill.”

  “You’re right. I’ve got this.” Calmly, I proceed to the door, pausing to take a deep breath with my hand resting on the handle. Please don’t be Mrs. Gilmore. Slowly, I open the door.

  “Well, hell—” I stop short, gawking in surprise.

  “Wow!” Dan stands in the doorway, his eyes ricocheting up and down my dress, with Rufus tucked securely in the crook of his arm, a bag of dog food, treats, and toys in the other.

  “Uh…”

  “Can we come in?” He smiles.

  “Oh! Of course. Come in.” I begin to recover from the shock of seeing Rufus. They step inside, and I peer around him, looking for Amelia. She’s not there. I close the door and turn around. “I thought Josh was babysitting?”

  “Yeah. Here he is.” Dan holds up Rufus and gives him a quick nuzzle before setting him down in the floor.

  “Oh, sweet!” Josh is off the couch and on the floor in the flash of an eye.

  “When you said ‘babysit,’ I thought you meant Amelia.” I laugh.

  “Oh. Didn’t I say?” He grins. “I haven’t been home all day, and I didn’t feel right leaving the little fellow by himself all evening.”

  “I really don’t think it’s a problem.” I laugh as I watch Josh scratching Rufus’ ears. “Hey, Josh. I want you to meet Rufus. And, while we’re at it, this is Dan. Dan, this is my son, Josh.”

  Josh stands up and walks over to us, assessing Dan modestly. “Nice to meet you,” he says, extending his hand to Dan.

  “Nice to meet you, too. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Well, don’t believe half of it.” He smiles and turns to me. “Hey, Mom. Can Eric come over? I want to show him Rufus.”

  “Sure. You guys can eat all the food that you got for Amelia, and when you’re done, you can watch My Pretty Pony,” I tease.

  “Ready?” Dan places his hand on the small of my back and leads me toward the door. “It’s pretty cool outside. You may need a coat.”

  I grab my coat off the back of the bar stool, mentally cursing the weather for making me cover up my new dress.

  “Call me if you need me, kiddo.” I wave to Josh and Rufus as we leave.

  “It was nice to meet you, Josh.” Dan smiles and closes the door behind us.

  “You, too,” I hear Josh call out behind us.

  Dan looks at me, exhaling nervously as we walk to the car. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”

  “Were you nervous?” I grin.

  “Hell, yeah. I figured he wouldn’t take a swing at me if I had Rufus in my arms.”

  Ingenious. “Smart thinking.” I giggle. “He wouldn’t have, anyway. I think we finally made peace this morning.”

  “Good. I could tell it was weighing on you.” He opens the car door for me to get in.

  I fasten my seat belt and snuggle in as he walks around and climbs in behind the wheel.

  “Where we going?”

  Not that I care. I’m just happy to be with him.

  “I think I still owe you a nice dinner at Belle Arti’s.”

  “Actually, I think I probably owe you a nice dinner at Belle Arti’s. The last time we missed our reservation was so you could adopt a dog for me.” I laugh.

  “Well, tonight is all about you.” He starts the car and then reaches for my hand, raising it to his lips, kissing and nipping my fingertips.

  I don’t know how he does it, but a streak of hot lust races like a laser from my fingertips straight to my sex, and I change from mother to minx. Licking my lips, I stare into soft, blue eyes regarding me beneath long, dark lashes.

  A low, pained groan rumbles in his throat as he drops his gaze to the slit in my dress. Glancing back toward the window, he pinches at his zipper. “You realize if Josh wasn’t home, we wouldn’t make it out of this driveway.”

  “You’d still have to contend with Mrs. Gilmore.” I laugh.

  “Yes. She does seem to be immune to my charms.” He chuckles as we drive away. “Nevertheless, you do look totally amazing tonight, and I love that dress. It’s just a shame you’re not going to stay in it for long.”

  I smile, wringing my hands in my lap, mainly to keep them off his zipper. “Long enough to eat dinner, I hope.”

  “Dinner? Maybe. Dessert? Definitely, not. But, tell me about this promotion.”

  We spend the rest of the drive talking about my new position at work, the regular working hours, the extra money and all the other benefits, like being able to see more of him. Before I know it, we’re pulling up to the restaurant.

  “I like this new job already.” He grins, helping me out of the car.

  We enter the restaurant, and several heads turn to look. Suddenly, I’m not so confident anymore. I’m not sure if they’re looking at him, six-feet-four-inches of hotness wrapped in a worsted wool suit, or me, five-feet, three inches of mother stuffed into a cotton voile dress like a sausage roll. Five feet, seven inches with heels, I remind myself.

  “I spoke with Emery this afternoon about our seating,” Dan tells the hostess in a hushed tone.

  What about our seating?

  He takes my hand, and we follow the hostess to a far back corner, practically isolated from the rest of the patrons.

  “Lionel will be here in a moment to take your drink orders,” she informs us with a smile before disappearing again out of sight.

  “Not there,” Dan says as I prepare to sit across from him. He pulls out a chair next to him. “Here.”

  I can’t stare into his beautiful face sitting that close to him. Disappointed, I do as I’m told, stepping around the table and sitting down in my designated seat. He pushes my chair up a bit and then leans over, draping the open part of my dress over my leg so that he has almost a full view of my panties.

  “Dan!” I glance around nervously to make sure the other patrons aren’t watching.

  “What?” He laughs innocently. “No one can see us. That’s why I requested this table.”

  He sits down beside me, and I cover myself with my napkin. Then, stretching his arm under the tab
le, his fingers crawl into my lap, beneath my napkin, and begin to scratch against my thin, silk panties.

  My eyes begin to close, my breath short and heavy, and I feel myself building.

  “Wine?” Lionel stands before us in an immaculate white uniform.

  “Yes, please.” Dan smiles, sitting up and scooting his chair closer to the table, still scratching and toggling. I feel my face heating up. “I’ll have something white, and she’ll have a blush.”

  He did not just say that. I cut my eyes my eyes at him threateningly.

  “Very good. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Lionel smiles and disappears.

  “I can’t believe you just did that.” I take a sip of my water, trying to cool down.

  “I’m going to do a lot more than that,” he threatens as his smoldering eyes cruise up and down my dress. “You can’t wear something like that and expect me to keep my hands off you. Hell, there wasn’t a man in this restaurant who didn’t get a hard-on when you walked through.”

  “Pfft. You’re crazy.” I shake my head. Is that true?

  “Hardly. If we get out of here without me bending you over this table, you should consider yourself lucky.”

  Oh, my! Maybe this dress was a little too risqué?

  “And, here you are.” Lionel returns to dole out our drinks and then takes our orders, promising to return soon with our entrées.

  “See?” Dan grins.

  “See what?”

  “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

  “Now you’re just full of it.” I laugh, secretly basking in the adoration, certain that my man is smitten, certain that he wants me as much as I want him.

  We carry on like young lovers throughout dinner, which by itself, is divine but mixed with the laughter and the conversation, the teasing, and the hot foreplay, it was undoubtedly the best meal I’ve ever had. By the time we’re finished, I’m ready to drag him into the ladies’ room and have my wicked way with him.

  “I think I’ll powder my nose,” I say, excusing myself and floating to the ladies room. I smile the entire time, wondering how the hell I got so lucky and looking forward to the heaven that lies ahead.

  My state of delirious happiness is short-lived, though. By the time I return to the table, Dan is standing, scowling, casting a death stare at someone across the room. My eyes follow his gaze.

  Oh, no. Mr. Stratford sits at a table across the room, eating and carrying on, having a grand old time with a young woman about half his age. He looks happy, not a care in the world, as he throws his head back and laughs heartily at something the young lady says. Funny, he looks nothing like the meek farmer I met at the hospital last month.

  “I will get that son-of-a-bitch,” Dan whispers, either to me or to himself, I’m not sure which.

  I grab his hand, coaxing him out of the restaurant. “Come on. Let’s just go.”

  For a moment, I think I’m successful. But as we get closer, he releases my hand and veers off toward Mr. Stratford’s table.

  Oh, fuck!

  Chapter Twenty

  I stand there frozen, watching this nightmare unfold right before my eyes, and not at all sure how to stop it. Should I call the police? He is the police! Strip naked and cause a scene? Fat chance of that happening. Dan wears an odd, almost deranged smile as he approaches the table, and Mr. Stratford nearly shits a brick when he sees him.

  “Well, hello, folks.”

  At least Dan’s being polite?

  Mr. Stratford gives him a look that could melt a polar icecap and then drags his murderous gaze back to the young lady across the table from him.

  “It’s so nice running into you like this,” Dan says, smoothly swiping his hand across the table and knocking a glass into Mr. Stratford’s lap. Mr. Stratford jumps up from the table as if it were hot soup in his lap and not ice water. He dances a little jig as he swats and swipes at his pants with a napkin.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” Dan coos insincerely. “Here. Let me help you.”

  He grabs Mr. Stratford’s hand, the one holding the napkin, and although I can’t see it, I deduce by the look of excruciating pain on Mr. Stratford’s face and the lack of any semblance of color that Dan is squeezing it with a great deal of pressure.

  Dan leans in and whispers something in Mr. Stratford’s ear. Mr. Stratford flinches for about a millisecond and then quickly regains his composure. Dan lets go of his hand and slaps him hard on the back.

  “Really good to see you, Jesse.” He turns, nodding at Mr. Stratford’s guest. “Ma’am.”

  When he returns, he grabs my hand roughly and leads me out of the restaurant. Despite the smile glued to his face, I can tell that he’s seething just beneath the surface. I wonder what he whispered to him. I do not ask, do not question and do not make eye contact. He leads the way to the car, and I follow, totally reserved, totally subservient.

  I sit down in the car and buckle up as he walks around and climbs behind the wheel. Still no words have passed between us since the incident, and I’m not really sure how to break the ice.

  I swallow hard. “That was a wonderful meal, Dan.”

  He stares ahead as if he hasn’t heard me. Then he starts the car and backs out.

  “That restaurant was everything I heard it was and more, really. I haven’t eaten that much in I can’t remember how long.”

  He glances sideways at me, grunting acknowledgement.

  I decide to keep trying. “I almost feel bad for leaving Josh and Rufus at home with pizza and popcorn.” I laugh nervously.

  He remains sullen. So I turn and stare out my window. I knew something was going to mess this night up. It was just going too well. I need to think of something quick to turn it around.

  “I’m sorry,” he says suddenly.

  I turn my gaze to him, assessing his mercurial mood, gauging the appropriate response. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t let that bastard ruin our night. It’s just…” He shakes his head. “I’m so tired of fucking around with all these scumbags day in and day out.”

  Is he talking about Jesse Stratford? Albus Gray? Adam Lesser?

  “I understand.” I nod supportively, placing my hand on his thigh. “He’s a worthless piece of shit.”

  “That he is, and he’s going to do it again, Candy. Mark my words.”

  No, baby. He’s not. Mark my words.

  “Wait and see. First chance he gets. Psychos like that don’t just stop.”

  “Maybe he won’t get the chance.” Shut up, Candy! “I mean, who knows, right? As close as you’ve been watching him, he knows he can’t get away with anything. Or, maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll be run over by a bus? Kick over with a heart attack? He doesn’t look too healthy to me. Anything can happen.” I need to shut-up while I’m still behind.

  “I feel like he’s laughing at me, laughing at the whole fucking justice system.”

  “Really? I don’t think he’s laughing at all. I think he’s scared to death, and he knows you have his number. He’s a coward.”

  “Well, he should be scared. I’m telling you, if I wasn’t a cop…” He rotates his fists on the steering wheel, biting his lip to keep the words from tumbling out.

  “But you are.”

  He considers for a moment, and then concedes. “Yes. I am.”

  I wiggle in my seat, hiking up my dress a bit and pulling the slit around to my lap. Slyly, I tug on the side so that my panties are visible again and relax my legs, casually allowing them to fall open as I replace my hand on his thigh. I rub gently, back and forth.

  “Damn,” he whispers as he shifts his eyes from the road to my panties to the road and back to my panties.

  I continue stroking his leg up and down.

  “Higher.” He smiles.

  I grin, edging my fingers upward.

  “Higher.”

  My fingers creep closer.

  “Higher,” he breathes.

  I unfasten my seat belt and scoo
t toward him, leaning over to unbutton his pants. Then, I let my fingers drag slowly down his zipper.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, half-excited, half-alarmed.

  “Helping you to relax,” I explain as I open his trousers and push my hand inside, fishing around for a prize.

  He shifts nervously in his seat. “You’re gonna—”

  My fingers find their destination, one semi-hard Dan Cole special, and he heaves a heavy sigh when I close my fist around him. Squeezing gently, I slide my hand up and down as I wrestle his shorts out of the way.

  “Yes? I’m going to what?” I ask innocently.

  “Uhh…” He lifts his ass off the seat, signaling me to pull down his shorts some more. I am only too happy to comply.

  “You’re gonna make me have a wreck.” He smiles. “But it’ll damn-well be worth it.”

  I lean forward, my head hovering above his lap, and tease him with my tongue. He hardens beneath my lips, and his breath quickens as he grips the steering wheel with both hands. Then, I lick him like a popsicle, up and down, swallowing him, savoring him as I lap and suck, sliding him in and out of my mouth until I’m sure he can think of nothing else, focus on nothing else, exist for no one else. He groans and rolls his hips against the seat, dropping one hand to my head and twisting his fingers in my hair, pushing and tugging.

  Suddenly, the car lurches forward and careens, and we come to a screeching halt. I try to sit up, but he presses my head back down with his hand.

  “Don’t stop,” he commands, his voice urgent, wracked with need. Reaching over, he flings the car into park and then buries both his hands in my hair as he stretches his legs, pressing himself against the back of the seat. I lap at him, licking the entire length of his shaft.

  “Oh, baby,” he groans through gritted teeth.

  I move to finish him, sliding my mouth over the big, beautiful tip of his cock, moving my head up and down, licking and sucking and moaning.

  Shouting, he throws his head back against the seat, his hands gripping my head firmly, and he pushes farther into my throat. His whole body spasms and jerks as he explodes against the back of my throat.

  I kiss away the remnants of his passion as he strokes my hair, and he finally calms. I drag my lips across his stomach and sit up, wiping my mouth and peering curiously out the window.