Island of Deceit

by Candice Poarch

  “What did you do before you became a hair stylist?” he asked softly.

  “I worked on Wall Street,” Barbara said. If he ever got suspicious about her, that information was easily accessible. He probably already knew.

  Harper’s eyebrows rose. “And you have a stockbroker for your personal use?”

  “Sure. Even though I make my own selections.”

  Stocks had gone bust and so many brokers were out of jobs. Harper considered that, as a broker, she would have had most of her assets tied up in the market and probably lost a mint when it spiraled down.

  “Do your feet hurt from standing all day?” he asked.

  “My back bothers me more.” She smiled. “But your massage feels wonderful.”

  “Guess I’m going to have to massage your back, then.”

  Barbara’s gaze touched his. Harper was leaning close, and came closer still, narrowing the distance between them. Barbara saw the desire in his eyes just before he kissed her briefly on her lips.

  “You taste like strawberries.”

  “Umm.”

  He tilted her chin with his finger and brushed his lips over her forehead, her cheeks, her chin with affectionate, playful strokes, teasing her.

  She moved to kiss the edge of his mouth before she swept her tongue there. He moved his head just enough to brush his tongue with hers.

  A playful interchange quickly moved to erotic and desire began to pool inside her. He deepened the kiss, his tongue rolling languidly over her mouth’s interior. They kissed in an intimate sexual rhythm.

  Barbara worked her hand beneath his sweater, feeling the corded muscles beneath smooth skin.

  He shifted to lie fully on her, rocking his hips slowly, intimately against her.

  It had been a long time for Barbara, and this slow meeting of mouths and bodies was driving her insane with need.

  “I’ve been ready for you forever,” Harper whispered. “Barbara, I want to make love with you. But I’m too old to snatch a feel on the couch.”

  She nodded toward the hallway. “My bed is that way.”

  “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, holding his breath. Harper wanted to be sure she was as ready for him as he was for her.

  She smiled, her eyes glazed with desire. “I’m sure.”

  “I guess we should get the preliminaries out of the way. I have no STDs. If you need the papers to prove it, I’ll get them from my doctor.”

  She was suddenly shy. “I’m clean, too. It’s been a long time for me, Harper.”

  “Just hearing you say you’ve saved yourself for me is driving me crazy.”

  He sat up, pulled her up from the couch, and kissed her again as he backed her down the hallway. She turned on the bedside lamp and he got his first view of her bedroom, but only a brief one. It was a very feminine room, just the opposite of the “take no prisoners” woman who put him in his place, without being fussy and with green being the predominant color, dotted with splashes of rose and cream.

  “This is you,” Harper said. But Barbara was consuming his mind, not the bedspread. He tugged her into his arms and kissed her again before they fell on the bed in a tangle of arms, legs, and bodies.

  He brushed her dress aside, caressing her smooth legs as he strung kisses across her breasts. He touched her full hips, her stomach, then parted her legs to stroke her intimately.

  Barbara moaned.

  “Like that? You’ve got to tell me what you’re feeling, babe. I want to make this great for you.”

  “It is,” she said, pulling his sweater over his head and tossing it aside.

  For the first time, she gazed at him, then stroked his firm chest splattered with crisp hair. “I’m burning up here, baby.”

  “So am I. For a completely different reason. I want you completely on fire.”

  Barbara moaned. “This can’t be one sided,” she said with a quick indrawn breath as he began to stroke her.

  She unsnapped his pants and reached for him. He moaned deeply and gently used his teeth to tug on her nipple through her dress, dragging the very breath from her lungs.

  “You’ve got to slow down, babe, so you can catch up with me.”

  “I’m with you all the way.”

  He dragged her dress over her hips to reveal cute black panties and took a moment to draw his fingers around, over, and beneath them. He dragged the dress up a few more inches over her breasts covered with a matching lace bra and stopped.

  “Pretty undies.”

  She blushed.

  “Beautiful woman.”

  She laughed.

  He bent, nibbled at her breasts, then stroked the tops with his tongue before he pulled the dress completely off her. Unsnapping the bra hooks, he got his first view of her generous breasts and buried his face there before he stroked her until she cried out her desire.

  She pushed him on his back and pulled off his pants and his briefs, and stroked the corded muscles of his thighs.

  They touched, they caressed, they tasted, they stroked, and loved each other. He whispered his love for every part of her body until her desire and impatience to have him grew to explosive proportions.

  Then he donned a condom and entered her. She cried out in pleasure. She held her thighs tightly against him with him imbedded deep inside her, several seconds ticked by as they gazed at each other, each revealing desire and vulnerability.

  He brushed her hair aside. “I’ll remember this moment forever.” And they began to move.

  It had been so long for Barbara that her body seemed to vibrate with liquid fire as his body moved sinuously against her.

  She tightened her arms around him. Felt the length of the muscles in his back, and his hips as her fingers trailed over him. Slowly and surely, she was drawn to a height of passion she’d never known before. Never even thought possible—until now.

  Tremors inside soared to awesome heights, and she abandoned herself to the whirl of sensations until suddenly, electricity seemed to arc through her. Her thoughts fragmented when she climaxed and screamed out her pleasure.

  Harper pumped one last time, the muscles in his entire body tightening. His moan was deep and guttural when he spilled his seed.

  She was filled with too many emotions to speak, and for moments time seemed to stand still as they pondered their moments of joy.

  Finally, Harper shifted beside her, gathering her into his arms as they waited for their heartbeats to slow to normal.

  He kissed her softly on the neck. “You were worth the wait.”

  She smiled up at him. “And so were you.”

  “Worth every agonizing moment.” He stroked her arm. Her head rested on his shoulder as the sounds of the night blended with the peaceful moment and they drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 9

  Barbara and Harper made love an hour before she hopped out of bed and showered. He was still sleeping when she headed to the kitchen. She had to get him up and out so that she’d have time to look over the package of information for Elliot. She made coffee and brought a cup to the bedroom. He was still sleeping.

  Barbara really liked Harper. Although they hadn’t formally dated, Naomi Claxton had thrown them together on various committees, and Barbara knew he was kind and generous. In the end, someone was going to be hurt, Barbara thought, and that might be the both of them. She didn’t want to hurt Harper. She closed her eyes briefly and approached the bed, sitting beside him.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.” She rubbed her hand down his arm.

  His eyes opened and he smiled at her. “I can get used to this,” he said as he sat up against the pillows and took the coffee from her.

  Barbara admired his amazing chest—wanted to crawl back in bed with him.

  “Perfect.”

  “Breakfast will be ready soon,” she said, preparing to stand, but he pulled her to him.

  “I wish I could jog with you, but I’m in court all morning.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” She contained a groan of relief.
As much as she enjoyed their lovemaking, she needed him up and out. She ran a finger down his chest and kissed his morning stubble. “You can use one of my razors. I don’t know if it’ll do for you.”

  “It’ll have to.”

  She pushed up from the bed. “I put two on the countertop. I’ll fix breakfast while you shower.”

  Barbara had breakfast spread out when Harper entered the kitchen.

  “Smells delicious,” he said.

  “Go ahead and sit. It’s all ready.”

  Harper filled his cup with coffee and Barbara carried two bowls of brown sugar topped cinnamon-banana oatmeal to the table along with a platter with pieces of Canadian bacon. A large bowl of cut-up fruit was already there, along with orange juice.

  It had been years since Harper had eaten oatmeal and he hadn’t liked it that much. Maybe the eggs would be the second course.

  Barbara stabbed a slice of the bacon and slipped it onto his plate, then placed one on hers and picked up her fork. For some reason, she seemed to be in a hurry.

  “Got plans this morning?” he asked.

  “I was going to try to get a walk in before work, but that’s it.”

  Harper nodded, regarding the table. She must be out of eggs, he thought. After all, she hadn’t expected him to spend the night. He lifted a spoonful of the oatmeal. He could get through this, he thought reluctantly. But the unexpectedly delicious taste exploded on his tongue. He tasted the banana, the cinnamon, and the brown sugar.

  “My God, you can make a feast out of anything,” he said, digging in with enthusiasm.

  She smiled.

  Just before he left, Harper held Barbara in his arms. “You trying to tell me something?”

  “What?” She looked puzzled.

  “That I’m gaining too much weight or something.”

  “Are you fishing for compliments? You’re perfect the way you are,” she said shyly. “We can’t eat eggs and pancakes every day. Too rich. We save that for special occasions.”

  “Oh.” He kissed her fully, feeling her wonderful curves pressed against him. His body responded instantly, making him want to drag her back to bed before she pushed him out the door and closed it firmly.

  Barbara immediately went to the bedroom-turned-den, unlocked the drawer to the credenza, and pulled the folder on the stock she’d dangled before Elliot. She flipped through it to make sure all the colorful pages were in place. Everything was there. She shoved it back into the credenza and locked the drawer. She noticed her grandmother’s picture was out of place and puzzled, she moved it to its regular spot.

  Had she moved it there? Barbara couldn’t remember.

  “It’s finally shaping up, Grandma,” she whispered, looking fondly at the picture. As much as Barbara hated to take pictures, her grandmother loved them. Dorsey was wearing one of her famous hats, and her smile was warm and radiant as she peered into the camera.

  Tears gathered in Barbara’s eyes. It was going to take a long time to get over Dorsey’s passing. Eyeing the picture critically, Barbara left the room.

  Because of Harper, she was getting a late start today, but she didn’t mind. Dorsey would approve of him. She loved a good-looking man.

  Harper questioned everything. The downside to dating a man in law enforcement was the information he had access to. She was a licensed stockbroker, information he had easy access to. He’d already known about her background when he asked her, the slick devil.

  What concerned her was why he felt it necessary to check up on her. What did she do to cause his suspicion? Did he really think she shot Andrew, or was he following up on Andrew’s babble? She didn’t even own a gun, for heaven’s sake. The last thing she needed was to draw Harper’s suspicion. He hardly gave her room to breathe as it was. He was in her shop every day for lunch. At her house for dinner. Of course, she was exaggerating. He was working a major case, and she had plenty of time to do the things she needed to, like this morning.

  But Lord have mercy, he was pure dynamite between the sheets. And he had stamina. She felt twinges in muscles that hadn’t been used in years.

  She changed into her walking clothes and smiled as she locked the door behind her. She’d already gotten a workout that morning and last night, but she hadn’t been by Lambert Hughes’s house lately.

  The wind from the ocean hit her hard, whipping through her sweats. But the waves lapping at the shore had a calming effect. She walked briskly for the two miles to Lambert’s place. Once there, she stood hidden behind the bushes to see if Minerva would bring him out with his family there, or if they’d been able to fire her.

  Minerva and he were sitting on the glider. Minerva appeared to be upset and Lambert was consoling her. She could see the daughter watching them from the window. Although Barbara couldn’t see the younger woman’s expression, she knew she must be frustrated.

  Lambert gathered Minerva in his arms and held her tightly. He seemed to be saying he wouldn’t believe a word his daughter said about Minerva. So, Lambert’s daughter had been unable to move him concerning Minerva. She would only isolate him further if she pushed too hard.

  Shaking her head, Barbara started to head for home, but she heard someone approaching. She backed away from the bushes just as Trent reached her.

  Why the hell would he be jogging in the marsh when he could jog on the beach or the road? His shoes were caked with mud. Of course, he must be asking the same of her.

  “Hey, Barbara.” He came to a stop near her and stretched his muscles.

  “Nice day for a walk.”

  Trent glanced toward the sky. “I thought so. Have to keep in shape.”

  She wouldn’t dignify that with a response. “Yeah, well, the bad thing about coming this far is I have to hike back home.”

  “Not so bad. I like it here where it’s safe to jog outside.”

  She couldn’t imagine him being afraid to jog anywhere.

  “You live near here?”

  She nodded in the direction of her house. “Just a couple of miles that way.”

  “I’ll walk with you. I’m renting the cottage up the road.”

  “The place where the woman was found?”

  “Yeah, sheriff stopped by to give me a heads up. They found the body just before I got there. I tell you, I’ve been keeping my eyes open.”

  He paced his steps to hers.

  “This is a nice place, though. I never thought I’d like the country so much,” Trent said.

  “It grows on you.”

  Trent walked her all the way home, for the most part, keeping up a one-sided conversation.

  Barbara was glad to be home. “Would you like a drink of water before you head back? You must have over three miles to go, at least. Sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

  “Oh, no. This is nothing. But I will take that water.”

  Inside, Barbara gave him a bottle of water and sent him on his way. Only he didn’t walk this time, he jogged. Nearly seven miles. Barbara couldn’t fathom even walking that far.

  Barbara watched Trent for a moment and got herself a bottle of water; then she showered and dressed.

  On her way out, she stopped in her office to retrieve the folder. As she bent over, she noticed her grandmother’s picture had been shifted. She knew because she’d moved it back in place when she was in there earlier.

  Barbara began to check the credenza. It had been rifled through, too. Not noticeably, but Barbara kept her desk drawer neat. She could tell the person who’d been there wasn’t as neat.

  How did someone get in her house, and why? She grabbed a knife and went through her entire house.

  Someone had looked through her drawers. Was it Elliot? Did he now know who she was? Was he going to try to kill her now? Should she call the police?

  What if Elliot broke in and saw the photo on the desk? It would give her away. Barbara unlocked the credenza and slipped the picture into a folder in the back.

  But what if it wasn’t Elliot? Then who could it be? And wh
at was the person looking for? Money? She checked her purse. All her money and credit cards were there.

  She glanced at the clock. She had to leave now if she was going to meet Elliot in time.

  Elliot arrived at Barbara’s shop at nine-thirty sharp. The furnace had already started to warm the building. “Can I get you some coffee?” she asked. “I just put on a pot.”

  “Sure.”

  “Sugar or cream?”

  “Couple spoons of sugar and cream.”

  While they got through the pleasantries, Barbara looked for any sign that Elliot knew her identity, but he seemed oblivious. She was cautious about meeting him alone, knowing he’d killed her grandmother and Sarah. He’d have no compunction about killing her, too. She had a sharp knife tucked into her jacket pocket. For the first time, she wished she owned a gun.

  While she prepared the coffee, she put muffins and cinnamon rolls on the tray. “It’s good to see you, Elliot. How are Minerva and Andrew? I was so sorry to hear about Andrew’s shooting.”

  “Luckily, the bullet didn’t hit anything major.”

  “And Minerva? I miss seeing her.”

  “She misses you, too. Thought of you almost as a daughter. How’ve you been?”

  She bet they did. “Good. Business is so brisk, I’ve hired on help.”

  “Minerva told me. She liked the wash he gave her. Said something about magic fingers.”

  “Maybe next time she’ll let him give her a manicure and pedicure.”

  “Maybe. But I want to talk to you about that stock.”

  Barbara carried the tray to a sofa table and handed him his coffee.

  Elliot sipped and frowned. “This is some good coffee.”

  “Only the best.”

  “Now about that stock.”

  He’s getting desperate, Barbara thought, and wondered why. “As I said yesterday, I wasn’t even supposed to talk to you about it. I only did because it was like talking to family. And now…”

  Elliot shifted in his seat. “Minerva and I always liked you, Barbara. You know that. We were hoping…” He glanced away, embarrassed. “Well, children don’t always do what you want them to do.”