T is for Temptation

by Jianne Carlo

  “I promised Dee I’d do an exhibition ride for a meet tomorrow.” Her eyes shifted to the grandfather clock to the left of the bedroom doorway. “It’s at nine and will last the whole morning. We could go to the beach afterwards if you like?”

  He dragged her against him and locked his arms around her waist. “I like. Can I come and watch you ride?”

  “You want to see me ride?”

  He melted at the pure joy shining in her honey eyes and fingered the dimple in one cheek. “It turns me on. How about those three weeks in London?”

  “I’ve thrown a lot at you tonight, and I need some time to think. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to sleep in separate beds tonight. Why don’t we talk about it in the morning?”

  A logical suggestion, one he should welcome. Instead, Jake tried to talk her out of it, to seduce her into the shower, but she glowered at him and threatened to conjure herself to Dee’s home. He surrendered, but pouted and cursed his damned luck.

  Since they hadn’t eaten and the dinner in the oven proved inedible, she conjured a pizza, and they shared it. He bit into the last slice, and something that had been nagging at him suddenly came into focus.

  “How do you do it?”

  “What?”

  “Keep the food at a perfect temperature.”

  “I’m not sure, but I hate cold food, cold baths too.” A half shrug lifted one gleaming shoulder.

  “So, your water temperature’s always perfect too?” Uneasiness cricked his neck as the implications of how such a small feat impacted on normality loomed.

  She nodded, but must have heard the insecurity in his voice. “You can still have an out, Jake. That’s the reason I think we need tonight. I won’t be upset if you change your mind.”

  Temptation wracked him and kept him awake in the smaller bedroom into the wee hours of the morning. Jake wrestled with the day’s events, going over them again and again, analyzing every detail, trying to find a logical explanation, and coming up bankrupt. By eating the chocolate cake, had he accepted the rest?

  For a couple of seconds, he considered telling Alex, his best friend, about everything, but discarded the notion before the temptation materialized into a late-night telephone call. If their positions were reversed, he knew his instinctive reaction would be to get Alex help, commit him if necessary. He fell asleep wondering if this was how insanity began, with the blurring of the edges of reality. A cupcake at a time, one rose-petal shower, then another, each incident eating away at a predefined, rational world, like flesh-eating bacteria devouring a finger, a limb, until the heart stops beating.

  Tee knocked on his door the following morning, and after he’d showered and dressed, they munched bran muffins on the way to the meet. When they reached the exclusive country club, he kissed her in the parking lot, and giddy and flushed, she agreed to London.

  His feelings about Tee slid willy-nilly over the next two hours from absolute admiration to fury to frantic terror as he watched her through a series of acrobatic feats designed to light the fear of God in him. Before the ride started, she explained the different movements, and it all seemed relatively tame. She went through a series of dressage movements in a riding ring: walk, trot, canter, figures of eight, canter pirouettes. Tee moved as one with her mount, an enormous jet-black stallion with a massive, arrogant head.

  Then came the jumps, and after she cleared the first set, they raised the bar a foot and repeated the procedure with each successive round. At the end, she flew over four-foot-high bars. He gripped the wooden fence encasing the riding circle so hard splinters wove into his palms and fingers. The applause at the end of her performance prompted his relieved sigh. He slumped against the fence and breathed in the rural aromas of manure, sweat, and leather. Gradually, he regained control over his hammering pulse and turned to find his way to the waiting area.

  A new round of clapping drew his attention back to the ring. He whirled around and spotted Tee riding bareback on the monster horse, feet encased in Indian-style moccasins instead of high black riding boots. She went through the same routine as she’d done before. There was a smattering of applause when Tee finished and signaled the horse to take a bow.

  Abruptly, she kneed the horse into a canter from a slow walk and promptly stood up on its back. Jake’s heart dropped right to China. She went a half round and then somersaulted and landed, seated, as the horse continued its smooth gait around the arena. Someone threw her a rifle, and Tee used it as a cowboy prop, pretending to shoot as she leaned sideways, head parallel to the stallion’s. Then she tucked her feet under the horse’s forelegs and arched backwards, helmet-clad head pointed to the animal’s swishing tail. That was as close to fainting as he’d ever come in his entire life.

  Time stood completely and unalterably still for the next few minutes. It turtled by with each crazy stunt, and he found himself praying for the first time in years. Long after she left the circle to a thundering ovation, he braced against the fence, willing his pulse to return to a normal cadence.

  Sweaty, disheveled, and exultant, Tee slid into the rented car and snapped her seat belt closed.

  That did it for him.

  “Why in blasted hell do you bother even wearing a seatbelt? You’re a million times safer in a car without the blasted thing than you were in that ring minutes ago!” he roared, all his tension and fear converted to rage. “Jesus Murphy, I died a thousand deaths watching you. Christ, how in God’s name did your parents let you take up such a dangerous sport? Are you insane?”

  Hell, if she thought to have their daughter follow in her footsteps . . . He stopped, arrested mid-thought, and went numb with the realization that, somewhere along the line, his subconscious had accepted his vision as reality. The image burned into his pupils the first time he met those amber-shaded eyes sprang to the forefront.

  The little girl with the black curls, a baby, theirs.

  No one knew better than he did about the impossibility of such an event occurring.

  “It’s really not that dangerous, and I did wear a helmet.” She peered up at him; her forehead furrowed, and touched a fingertip to his bicep.

  “I trained with Cavalia, a trick-riding school in Canada, for a couple of years. What I did today is nothing compared to what we did then. You didn’t like it?”

  For a few minutes, they drove on in silence.

  “Jake?”

  “You scared the daylights out of me, babe,” he finally blurted as they arrived at Harbor Lodge. “I expected you to do the stuff I’ve seen on television, jumps and the figures you explained before the exhibition. Why didn’t you warn me about the rest?”

  “I wanted to surprise you,” she muttered. “I guess I wanted to show off a little.”

  He snagged her into his arms and tilted up her chin. “You could have broken your neck.”

  She grinned. “I’m too good for that, and besides, there was no real danger. I trained Brandy before I sold him to the riding school here. He and I were partners for about five years.”

  Jake brushed his lips against hers, and butterfly-kissed her eyes closed, trailing kisses across her forehead. “How about that day at the beach now? I need to relax.”

  “The private beach is about half a mile away.”

  “Why don’t we pack a cooler and a few sandwiches and head on down to it?”

  He studied her expression. She seemed wary, hesitant. The way Tee worried her lower lip with those pearl teeth made him want to drown in her mouth, kiss her for hours until his tongue slurred with exhaustion. Settling for a quick nip, he reached across and pulled the door handle.

  “I’ll change into my bathing suit. If you don’t mind, I can conjure drinks and snacks when we get to the beach?”

  This was a test, Jake realized. “Fine by me. Do you do it often?”

  In the process of easing out of the passenger seat, she turned to look at him and answered, “All my life I’ve avoided using my powers because I don’t have much control over them. Food is relativ
ely easy, but other things aren’t.”

  Hopping out of the vehicle, he shot her another query. “Like the Vikings?”

  “No, I’ve done that too often. I usually end up in the same place and time, some castle in northern Scotland around 1501. The thing that’s weird is they don’t seem fazed when I appear out of nowhere.”

  “You speak to them?”

  “No, Douglas instructed me not to. And they don’t really acknowledge me, but they glance in my direction.’”

  Jake digested the two tidbits and more puzzle pieces fell into place.”

  “Douglas Graham, the man who answered the door at Dee’s house?” At her lifted eyebrows, he added. “I went to the house before coming here. He answered the door and told me where to find you.” Halting at the entrance to the cottage, he frowned. “Douglas Graham knows about you?”

  “I’m about to stretch your reality further.” She crinkled her nose and gave a little half-a-shoulder apologetic shrug. Her eyebrows lifted in query.

  “Go for it,” he said, taking a deep breath.

  “Douglas is a warlock and my mentor. I told you about Dee. Her power is healing. There are nine of us altogether, and Douglas is our guide.”

  His brain whirred like a helicopter spiraling into a crash. They strolled through the doorway, and he set his cell on the kitchen counter. The minute his hand lifted off it, the phone buzzed and rang at the same time. He jumped, grabbed it, and flipped open the phone.

  “I’m waiting for word on a deal,” he threw out and then spoke into the receiver. “Mathews.”

  He cupped a hand over the receiver and said, “It’s my lawyer.”

  “Alex, how’s the situation?”

  “Worsening, are you alone?”

  “No, should I be?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Hang then, I’ll be a few seconds.”

  Pressing the mute button, he said, “I need to take this. I saw a study last night. Is it okay if I use it?”

  “Sure, go ahead. I’ll putter around until you’re finished.”

  “Thanks for understanding.” He gave her a hard smack on the lips, fished his Bluetooth headphone out of his shirt pocket, and strolled to the study.

  He sat in the plush leather chair, curled the Bluetooth around his ear, and hit the hold button. Snatching a slip of paper from the printer stand, he began making notes as Alex summarized the current state of the IRS investigation.

  When he ended his unplanned conference call with his friend and a slew of Middle East and London lawyers, Jake immediately pressed Alex’s speed-dial button. “What the hell was that about, buddy?”

  “I suspect it’s related to the missing funds. There’s more bad news. Someone deposited cash into the suspended Antigua account, over 20K.”

  “Cash, as in dollars? And if it’s suspended, how’d that happen?”

  “US greenbacks. Must have filled a backpack, an amount like that. The bank’s tracing the transaction.”

  Jake groaned.

  “Homeland Security wants to ask you a few questions. They’re becoming impatient. I’d head back pronto. You know what tight-assed pricks they are.”

  “I planned to stay on a few days.”

  “I’m receiving hourly calls, Jake. They’re making threatening noises about having you taken into custody. Jump on a plane. Hire one if you need to. You don’t want to get on an alert list.”

  “Blast.”

  “Word of advice—fly through Puerto Rico, and come into Florida domestically. If they’re watching the airports, there’s not much I can do to protect you.”

  “Good idea. I’ll come straight to your office.”

  “Call me as soon as you know when you’ll arrive.”

  “Done. Thanks for watching my back.”

  “A given. See you.”

  Pressing the end button, he muttered an expletive and lurched to his feet. Jake found Tee in the bedroom, clad in a peach swimsuit, which topped all his fantasies. He hardened and battled the impulse to strip the little triangles off her breasts with his teeth.

  “Jesus, you look delicious.” He halted in the doorway and splayed his fingers. “Don’t come near me. Tee, I have to leave. Right away. There’s more trouble about Tony. Homeland Security’s insisting on meeting with me. You have no idea how much I hate to go.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jake. Can I do anything to help? Do you want me to search the Trinidad office?”

  “I’ve already done that, but it won’t hurt to take another look. Thanks. I want to kiss you goodbye, but if I do, I’ll never leave. I’m going to grab my carry-on from the other bedroom. I’ll call you from the airport. Plan on London, babe. I’ll send the details via e-mail.”

  He raked her figure one last time and spun around, determined to resist temptation.

  Bach Bribes

  Before leaving Barbados, Jake booked a first class electronic ticket to London and e-mailed it to Tee. That afternoon, Interpol and US authorities raised a worldwide terrorist red flag, triggering overflowing airports and domino delays. It proved an exhausting and trying trip back to Florida.

  While he traveled, Jake swung from one end of the pendulum to the other whenever he thought about Tee. Tired, nerves taut, he’d fallen into a dream-filled, disturbed sleep with convoluted images, which merged and morphed, leaving him with no clear visions, but a deep, seething foreboding. Somewhere between his third plane ride and his fourth, he decided to pamper Tee and shower her with romance while their affair lasted.

  Arriving at Ft.Lauderdale almost two days later, his irritation mounted as he realized he wouldn’t make it to London in time to meet her. The minute he cleared the plane, Jake whipped out his phone and pressed the speed-dial button for Tee’s cell. The country operator for Trinidad came on the line with a message stating all lines to the island were busy.

  He waited until the elevator doors opened onto the parking garage level and hit Tee’s button, same message. He reached his black Porsche Carrera GT and tried her number again. As he drove onto the I-95 ramp, he hit the redial key once more. The phone rang, and Jake let out an audible sigh of relief. Once, twice, three times. He hit the steering wheel with his palm when Tee’s recorded message kicked in. The beep sounded, and he left a voice mail explaining his delay.

  By the time he reached Alex’s office in Boca Raton, Jake managed to sort through all his office voice mails and return most calls. Flopping into an oversized leather armchair, he loosened his tie and dragged the fingers of one hand through his hair.

  “What’s the situation?” Jake methodically worked the tie loose as he spoke.

  “Fraud charges are pending.”

  “Hell they are. That’s pure crap, and you know it.”

  In silent response, Alexander Mayfield quirked an eyebrow at him and curled his lips at the corners.

  “Tony?” Jake stared out the glass window, never noticing the magnificent view of the navy Atlantic Ocean and an azure sky streaked with cotton batting wisps. Dislike akin to hatred churned in his gut. Tony Trent had bulldozed into his life, and the results proved catastrophic business-wise. But it’d brought him Tee. And nothing, nothing that happened could make him regret that. Ever.

  “Unfortunately. The authorities have tracked the missing money to a bank in the Far East, get this, in Afghanistan.”

  “He wired it there?”

  “I’m not talking about Tony’s two mil. Turns out that’s the least of our worries. There are a series of money transfers from an Afghan bank to the Antigua account, and the amounts involved are mind-boggling. Over 400 mil went through the account during the three months of your partnership with Trent.”

  “Not possible, buddy, and I have the bank statements to prove it. The only transactions on the account were the monthly interest on the two million.”

  “Did the bank send the statements directly to you?”

  “Electronic statements e-mailed on the first of the month. In the confusion after Tony’s death, I didn’t notice I h
adn’t received one for around three weeks. I e-mailed the bank, the e-mail bounced back, and it was only when I called that I found out it had been cleared a week after he died.”

  “The same week the SEC started their investigation.” Alex shook his head. “I should’ve been suspicious then. At any rate, I pulled some strings while you were in Trinidad and discovered what initiated their interest—an anonymous tip on an Internal Revenue hotline.”

  “Jesus, it was a setup. Someone’s targeting either the company or Tony. If he was into both drugs and money laundering, he could’ve pissed off somebody seriously. Maybe the boating accident wasn’t one after all.”

  “One of his colleagues ordered a hit? Maybe. It still doesn’t explain the disparity between your bank statements and what Interpol’s uncovered.”

  “Interpol? Jesus,” Jake said. “You mentioned Homeland Security. Where the hell did Interpol come from?”

  “The 20K deposit.”

  “Blast.”

  “You can say that again. The more I analyze this situation, the more I’m convinced someone’s playing us.” Alex grimaced, picked up a fountain pen, and tapped it on the ink blotter. “Any good news from your trip? Uncovered anything helpful?”

  “Did you know Trinidad is only nine miles off the coast of Venezuela? And I suspect it’s impossible to patrol all the ocean mileage between the two coastlines. I learned something new this trip. Tee’s family has a vacation home on an island between the two countries, and Tony used it frequently. He kept his boat docked there.”

  “She has to be involved then.”

  His jaw clenched. Even though it’d been his initial reaction, the notion Alex suspected Tee of nefarious intent raised every hackle, and he snapped, “No, she’s not. I’m positive.”

  Alex frowned. “I don’t buy that, not for a second. Let me have her investigated.”

  His gut clenched. “Don’t even think about it. I have proof she’s not involved.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. I am your lawyer, after all.”

  “You’ll have to take my word for it.”