Smoke and Mirrors

by Taylor Anne

  Her mind raced with Graeme’s rejection. Why wouldn’t he help? He said because of his injury he wasn’t capable of assisting if the situation arose. That was just crazy. The man exuded strength and power and confidence. An injured leg would not stop him from doing anything he wanted to. So why then did he not want to help?

  She might never know the answer to that. He refused to help, and she was not going to beg him. Chief Colby was just as competent as Graeme. But it was Graeme’s help she really wanted.

  ****

  Finishing her ham sandwich and chips, Abby cleaned up the kitchen, then went outside to get a can of paint out of her car. She’d geared herself up to start painting one of the guest bedrooms. She actually enjoyed painting, and it acted as a form of stress relief, so she really didn’t mind the chore. Uncle Mark trusted her judgment and let her pick out the colors and borders for each room. Since the house sat on the beach, she opted for fun, cheerful colors. Yesterday she went to the paint store and chose a soft sea green for the first bedroom.

  She walked down the porch and stopped just short of her car. The front passenger tire was sitting on a flat. Her mouth dropped open in awe. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She stooped down to examine it a little closer and realized not only was the tire flat, but there was a two-inch slice in the rubber. A shiver ran down her spine. She had the strange sensation that someone was watching her. It felt like there were eyes all around her. Nervously she lifted her head.

  The neighbor’s car was in their driveway; there was no movement around their house. A couple of teenagers were crossing the street, heading toward the souvenir shop. They were laughing and cutting up, but not paying any particular attention to Abby. She didn’t think they had anything to do with this. Vehicles moved up and down the busy street. Normal. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Was this an accident, or intentional? Had they located her?

  Abby sucked in a deep breath and marched back inside, snatching her cell phone off the counter. Her first instinct was to call Graeme. But since she hadn’t heard from him in two days, she decided against that. He made no attempt to contact her after she had begged for his help. As a matter of fact, he was pretty adamant about not helping, so she wouldn’t bother him with her troubles again. Instead, she called Orange Beach’s Chief of Police, Colby Fox. She told him about the flat tire and her concern that it was not a random act.

  “Chief Fox, I could be wrong, but something about this doesn’t feel right. What should I do?”

  “I’ll call Detective Ramsey and fill her in. Take pictures then you can go ahead and get the tire changed. Keep it and I’ll stop by later to pick it up. This could be a random act of violence, but I want to keep the tire for evidence just in case. And Ramsey may want to see pictures of it also.”

  “No problem. The tire will be here. I’ll put it in the outside storage building.”

  “Fine. I’ll pass by later this afternoon and pick it up. Do you need help changing the tire, or getting it somewhere?”

  Abby smiled to herself. “No, I got this. Thanks anyway.” She hung up the phone and went outside. Popping the trunk of her car, she pulled the full-size spare tire out. This wasn’t her first time changing a flat. One thing her dad taught her before she was allowed to get her driver’s license was how to change a tire, check the oil, and observe telltale signs of problems with a vehicle.

  After fighting with the lug nuts for what seemed like ten minutes, she finally loosened them. She placed the hydraulic pump and jacked up the car. Swapping the tires and lowering the car was not a problem, but she still worked up a good sweat and a lot of aggravation getting it done. Who the hell went around vandalizing people’s vehicles? Probably some rowdy teenagers who had no idea the cost and trouble of what they’d done.

  Finished, she tossed the jack back in the trunk and hauled the sliced tire to the storage room by the side of the house. Wiping sweat from her forehead, she stomped back to the car and jerked the paint can out of the back seat.

  Abby was halfway up the front steps when a sleek gray sports car pulled up on the roadside curb across the street. As much as she hated to admit it, her heart skipped a beat when Graeme stepped out of the vehicle. Not what she pictured the man to drive. Her nerves were shot, and she was in no mood for company right now. As a greeting, she simply glared at him.

  “I left the bar to come check on you.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m fine.”

  “Really? Then why did Colby say you needed help? Something about a tire. What happened?” He inspected the tires on her car, then he frowned. “You already changed it?”

  “Sure did. I put it in the storage building until Chief Fox can get here to pick it up.” Abby shifted the paint can from one hand to the other. She eyed him as he made his way across the driveway to stand beside her on the porch. “What are you really doing here?”

  “I haven’t heard from you in a few days. Wanted to come by and make sure you were okay.”

  He hadn’t heard from her in a few days? Really? Did he think she was going to keep chasing after him when he shot her down already?

  “Oh yeah, just a normal day except for someone slicing my tire. As a matter of fact, I’m getting ready to paint one of the bedrooms and act like nothing happened.” She turned on her heels and walked through the front door. He could follow if he wanted.

  ****

  So she was going to be stubborn today. Fine. Maybe he should’ve called before today to let her know he had been checking up on her. He hadn’t totally deserted her. She walked into the house and let the door slam shut behind her. Graeme shook his head and went to the storage shed next to the house. The door creaked on its rusty hinges when he opened it.

  He bent down to inspect the tire Abby put in there. He ran his fingers along the rubber. No doubt, the slice was deliberate. His stomach knotted. That nagging sense in the back of his mind had not gone away since Abby told him what happened in New Orleans. A sliced tire was not a good sign. He’d never gone wrong when he trusted his gut feelings.

  He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. After locking up the shed, he sent Colby a text telling him this was no accident. Then he walked into the house in search of Abby.

  Graeme followed the sounds of music and found her in one of the guest bedrooms. Without a word, he stopped just inside the doorway and watched her. She glanced up at him but continued on with her task. His guess was, she was still upset that he wouldn’t offer his help in protecting her.

  Abby had laid out the paint supplies and was draping the furniture with drop cloths. Leaning against the doorjamb, Graeme didn’t offer any help. He simply watched her prepare to paint the walls. She moved around the room easily, covering the bed, nightstands, and dresser. She bent down to tuck a piece of the cloth underneath the edge of a nightstand. How could anyone turn such a simple act into the biggest turn-on ever? Where the hell did that thought come from?

  The muscles in her tanned legs tightened as she picked the ladder up off the floor and settled it against the wall. He sucked in a deep breath and shifted from his injured leg to the other. Now that everything was set up, she was ready to tackle the job of taping and painting.

  Graeme wanted to march over to her, pick up that paintbrush, dip it in paint and glide it over her body. Cover her from head to toe with the wet, sticky liquid. Then haul her ass off to the shower and slowly wash it off of her.

  The music playing wasn’t helping at all. It’d been a mix of country, current hits, and eighties rock. Abby wasn’t singing out loud, but she was mouthing the words as she moved around the room, taping around the windows and baseboards. Her head bobbed and her body swayed to the sounds of the popular group. The lead singer belted out about wanting to love somebody and wanting to dance the night away.

  She made eye contact with him as the song came to an end. The lyrics were now stuck in his head. ‘take me there, all the way, yeah.’ Abby’s mouth parted, and Graeme could hear her sigh from across the room. He didn’t mo
ve at all. Actually he didn’t think he could move if he wanted to. His feet seemed to be glued to this spot. Right now it was enough just to take in her every move.

  She broke eye contact and bent down to pick up a screwdriver. The tank top revealed enough cleavage to make his blood boil. He could almost feel the soft silky skin in his hands. His tongue twitched in his mouth, wanting to nip and suck her breasts. They were fuller than last time he held them in his hands. She had more curves everywhere. Just enough in all the right places. His fingers itched to feel her skin beneath them. Soft, supple, and ticklish in that spot just under her breasts. Yeah, it drove her crazy, especially when he had kissed her there. She wrapped her hands around the can of paint, popping it open and then tossing the screwdriver aside. If she only knew what she was doing to him at that moment. Hell, she would probably run away.

  She poured some paint into the container then placed the lid loosely on top of the can. Taking the roller, she dipped it in the sea green mixture and climbed up the ladder. Even at the top of the ladder she had to stretch to reach the top of the wall. When she did that, her blue jean cutoff shorts rode up, giving Graeme a glimpse of skin. He sucked in a deep breath. He took a closer peek while she was stretched. Yeah, there was a tattoo on her right thigh, barely covered by her shorts. From there, he couldn’t make out what it was. He would find out though.

  Graeme watched her in silence as she climbed up and down the ladder several times. He didn’t know why, all that was doing was torturing himself. She spilled paint on herself. First on her arms. Then a few splashes on her legs. A large drop settled on her shorts, just above where the tattoo was hidden. He wanted to rip those damn cut-offs off her body and taste that tattoo. Lick the paint off her skin. Taste that sweet spot between her legs. Then plunge deep inside her until they both came hard.

  The music paused between songs. When it started up again, he listened to the first few notes then sucked in a deep breath. The man sang about a woman being a mystery that a man couldn’t understand. According to him, there’s so many ways a man could go wrong. Abby heard the words also. She sighed. Just like the song said, she closed those deep blue eyes. Graeme lost control completely.

  Chapter Six

  Graeme could stand there leaning against the doorframe all day if he wanted to. Abby had things to do. This room would not paint itself. She could feel his eyes following her every move. It was a little disconcerting at first, but she continued with her project. Graeme didn’t speak, just crossed his arms over his broad chest and stared. Hell, if he wanted a show, she could certainly give him one.

  She started by the window sill, rolling paint under the window and in the corner. She was still pissed about the flat tire, which brought up the memory of the drug deal—the whole reason she had to leave her home and now felt like she was hiding out. Then Graeme showed up to see if she needed help changing the tire. Didn’t hear from him for days, but now he was there to play savior. Aggravated, Abby dipped the roller in the paint a little rougher than necessary. Paint sloshed over the sides of the container. She took out her frustration and finished the small section, all while catching glimpses of Graeme out of the corner of her eye. She had an almost uncontrollable urge to fling paint in his direction just so he wouldn’t be so damn sexy in those faded blue jeans. The deep blue t-shirt emphasized his tan and made his dark eyes smolder. As much as she hated to admit it, the way his gaze followed her movements around the room was making her hot in all the right places. She couldn’t let him get to her.

  If it wouldn’t be for the music playing, the room would be in total silence. That would have been unbearable. Music helped her relax and it made the painting seem to go much faster. But she knew Graeme heard the lyrics to those songs just as she did. And the sensual beat of the music ripped at her emotions. Abby didn’t dare glance over to see if it had the same effect on Graeme.

  Working by herself, she moved the ladder into the corner. Dipping the brush into the paint again, she splashed more green over the sides, left it to drip, and climbed the ladder one more time. She extended her arm, rolling the paint as close to the ceiling as possible without getting any on the white tile. She rolled, up and down, until there was no more paint left on the roller. She stepped down the ladder, turned around, and ran into Graeme’s solid chest.

  She shrieked in surprise. He took her arms and pressed her back against an unpainted section of the wall. Abby clenched the handle of the roller in her hand. The same hand that Graeme’s strong grasp held firmly above her head. Wet, sticky drops of green fell from the roller onto their arms. His other hand framed her face, his thumb swiping at her cheek, presumably wiping away paint drips. Without hesitation, his mouth came down on hers, claiming her lips as his own.

  Abby gasped, but didn’t pull away. Graeme’s lips trailed along hers, teasing until her mouth parted to allow him inside. Their tongues toyed with each other’s, slowly at first, then more urgent. The fire inside her had already been lit while he was watching her. Now that he was touching her, she could burst into flames. Graeme stepped closer, closing the small distance between them. His kisses became more demanding, his touch more possessive. He reached up and took the roller out of her hand, a devilish gleam beamed in his eyes. Instead of dropping it on the floor like she assumed he would, he held one of her arms out and slowly rolled the paint onto her arm. The soft fibers skimmed over her skin leaving a trail of green behind. Shaking his head, he tossed the roller onto the floor and picked up the regular paintbrush.

  He bent to dip it in the paint, giving her a perfect view of his jean covered ass. She wanted to rub her body up against his. Feel his hard muscles on top of her, beneath her. She held her breath, waiting to see what he had planned next. He tapped the brush so there was not too much paint dripping from it. Then he stood back up and went to her. The sexual gleam in his eyes excited her. She closed her eyes in anticipation of his touch. She wanted this man and all he had to offer. He didn’t disappoint.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” he whispered into her ear.

  “Okay,” she breathed out. Then she waited. The anticipation, combined with not being able to see, turned her body into a warm melting pool of desire. He was not touching her, but she could feel the heat from his body. Finally, she felt his fingers glide over the top of her foot followed by the wet liquid from the brush. He made a path from her foot to her knees. There he removed the brush only to replace it with his warm lips. He kissed his way up her right thigh, his left hand caressed her other thigh. Then the soft liquid oozed over her skin once again. He smeared it over her upper leg, barely skimming beneath the hem of her shorts. Torture. She was so wet between her legs right now. She wanted more.

  Graeme paused. Shuffling noises tingled her ears. Then the warm bristles touched her cheek. She inhaled deeply and bit her bottom lip. Her head turned from side to side. Her mouth parted and a soft sigh escaped. Her hands reached out to find him. She pulled at his shirt until she could feel his skin. Her fingers raked over his chest. Abby couldn’t see his reaction, could only hear his sharp intake of breath. His heart beat wildly against her palms. He continued to trail the brush down her face and neck, dipping it into the top of her shirt. The tacky liquid stuck to her skin and dripped down between her breasts. She opened her eyes and thrilled at the sight of Graeme watching the path of paint on her body. The fire in his eyes matched the fire in her body.

  One of his hands cradled her chin while the other flowed with the paintbrush over her body. His eyes followed the path down her neck and sides, stopping at the hem of her tank top. Her skin tingled when he slipped both of his hands under her shirt. His calloused touch ignited feelings she hadn’t felt in years.

  He tugged her shirt over her head, then bent down and kissed her bare stomach. Her muscles clenched in anticipation and desire. The brush glided over her stomach, leaving a trail of wet paint. Graeme ran his fingers through the liquid, heating her skin along the way. Wet with paint, his fingers outlined her breasts above her bra. Hoo
ded eyes peered up at her. His lips hovered over the skin just below her breast. Oh my God. Did he remember that spot? Her breath stuck in her throat. A gleam lit his eyes. He smiled just before his lips touched her there.

  “Oh Graeme.” Abby exhaled his name and squirmed beneath him while he teased her ticklish spot.

  “You drive me fucking insane.” His whispered words barely made it to her ears. The paintbrush was tossed to the floor and Graeme pressed her hands above her head, holding them with one of his own. He licked her nipples until they beaded through the lacy fabric.

  Freeing her hands, Abby ran them up his back and twisted them in his dark hair, pulling him closer. “I want to feel you next to me.”

  “Oh baby, I’m all yours,” he moaned. He pressed into her. He was hard and as ready for her as she was for him. She moved her hips into him, needing to feel him. All of him. His hands trailed down her sticky body to the base of her shorts, his fingers running along the hemline. They barely skimmed along, not touching her intimately, only teasing. Tormenting.

  Intense heat coursed through her body making her want him closer. More of him. Her head fell back against the wall allowing his tongue access to her neck. He kissed and sucked. He took her earlobe in his mouth and fire spread through her, dampening the spot between her legs where his fingers were still exploring. Abby spread her legs just enough to allow him access to touch her.

  She shook her head. What the hell was that? Something was distracting. Abby didn’t want to be distracted right now. She was busy, dammit. But someone was knocking on the door and clearing their throat. Loudly. It wasn’t her and it certainly wasn’t Graeme. His mouth was still pleasuring her earlobe, taking her to another level of ecstasy.

  “Excuse me.” The throat cleared again and there was another loud knock on the bedroom door. Graeme froze. Abby’s fire went out.