by Nina Pierce
He’d come down here because he’d seen the sassy, redheaded bimbo walk this way. Kill two birds with one stone, three if he got lucky: check the beach for recent boat traffic, find Jameson’s play toy and pump her for information, and if he was lucky, just plain pump himself into her. The pressure built behind his fly.
Oh, he’d watched her all right. He didn’t think anyone had missed the little bump and grind she’d done with the brunette on the speaker. Sexy as hell. What man wouldn’t react to that display? The way those two had been on each other, though, he’d thought probably they were lovers. They looked like they were going to strip each other naked and do each other right there.
Then the brunette had left with some guy, and he’d watched the redhead play tonsil hockey with Jameson on the front deck. He’d abandoned all pretense and now was as focused on getting laid as he was on collecting information from the bimbo. He figured she swung whichever way the wind was blowing. And the way he was feeling, he hoped she’d think a monsoon had swept in her direction when he found her.
He scanned the beach, seeing no signs of her. There had to be another path up to the house. Or maybe she was already rolling in the grass with someone else. He hoped the former.
Ayden headed for the dinghy lying on its side in the sand. Tethered to a large buoy bolted into the beach sand, the small boat was anchored against any rogue waves. From the placement of the dead seaweed mounds, he surmised it was nearly low tide. The waves rolled in a long distance from the power motor on the back of the dinghy. The small skiff didn’t look big enough to haul large quantities of drugs from cargo vessels to the shore, but Ayden knew drug runners could be very resourceful when they needed to be. Looks could be deceiving.
An unnatural sound stopped him in his tracks. His gaze swept the sand as his hands flew to his back, touching only the waistband of his jeans. No gun, damn it. It was still tucked safely in his car. What had he been thinking, coming all the way down here without it? He hadn’t. His dick had been leading the way for the last fifteen minutes. The thought of a heated conversation and some slap and tickle with one of Jameson’s squeezes had been like a magnet pulling him toward the ocean.
There was that noise again. The pounding surf made it difficult to identify.
He fought for control, searching the shadowy expanse of beach, looking for anything or anyone out of place. If someone was watching, he didn’t want to give them reason to shoot and ask questions later. He needed to look innocent. He was simply a guest out for an evening stroll. But standing here in the middle of the beach with the moon casting everything in a blue hue, he was an easy target. He’d wandered too far from the path to use the marsh grass as cover. His only refuge was the boat, and without a gun, that really wasn’t all that safe.
But he had no choice.
Chapter 3
Cautious, and working to keep his jangled nerves from pumping his legs in a dead run, Ayden strolled to the shelter of the dinghy. The noise grew louder. Ayden realized he wasn’t moving away from the sound; he was aimed toward it. What a fool. It was a beautiful fall night. Lovers were using the upended craft for a little sex party of their own.
Turning on his heel, he started to walk away, and the noise came again. It wasn’t the moan of sexual pleasure. It was the keening sound of sadness. Someone was crying. And from the quiet hiccuping, it was female. Christ, he didn’t need this right now.
He pushed at the hair blowing in his eyes. Swiveling his head, he debated between the refuge of the path and the complications in the boat. Chivalry won out. He stepped warily around the bow.
The redhead sat on the wooden slats, her bare feet digging restlessly in the sand, her face cupped in her hands. Between shuddering breaths, she sputtered angrily into her bent knees, but her tears and her fingers kept the words from him.
“Uh-hmm.” He cleared his throat, not knowing how else to get her attention.
“Holy shit…” She tried to jump to her feet, but banged her head on the iron rigging attached to the upside of the boat. She fell down hard. “Fuck.” Her hand flew to her head.
“I’m sorry, you okay?” Ayden reached for her, but she shook him off.
“I’m fine.”
She looked up at him. Even in the pale light, he could see the anguish in her eyes.
“Actually, I’m not all right.” She pushed herself up, ducking her head away from the oarlock. She wiped at the sand on her bottom. “You scared the living shit right out of me.”
Biting back a smile, Ayden watched her glistening tears turn into fury. That he could handle. An angry woman was one hundred times easier to placate than a despondent one.
“Again, I apologize.” He held out his hand to her. “Austin Shaeffer.” How easily that name slipped off his tongue.
“Deirdre Tilling,” she said as she slipped her hand into his.
Her grip was surprisingly firm. Ayden liked the touch of her palm against his skin. Not all soft and pliant, but callused and rough. He wondered how it would feel running up his back. His cock came to full attention with those thoughts.
She was a beautiful woman. Her breasts swelled enticingly just above the bodice of her dress. Her long, muscular legs that he’d admired in the great room, started somewhere around her neck. No wonder Jameson had been seducing this lovely creature.
Jameson. Right. He mentally shook his head. Focus, Ayden. Tonight was about gathering information, not sexual conquests. But then again, there was that two birds and one stone thing.
“You come to Jameson’s parties often?” His voice sounded more at ease than he felt.
She pulled her hand from his and rubbed at the spot on her head. “What? Jameson? Oh, Shawn. No, never been to one of his parties. I’m one of his employees. Damn, this hurts. It’s already forming an egg.”
Ayden ignored the fact she’d called him Shawn. He urged his cock to relax. Obviously, he wasn’t getting any action from an employee who referred to her boss by his first name.
“Here, let me take a look at it.” He ran his fingers through her hair. It was soft as silk sliding over his hand. How good would that feel on his belly and thighs? His balls pulled up tight to his body. “Oh, yeah. You did a nice job. Probably could use a little ice.” At this rate, so could he, but not on the head on his shoulders.
“I did a nice job? Me? You were the one sneaking up like some pirate looking for a lost treasure.”
She had no idea how close to the truth she was.
* * * *
Deirdre looked at the guy standing over her. Her head throbbed, and she was acutely aware of the fact, so did her sex. He had nice features. A strong jaw that softened with the smile he kept flashing her. The light of the moon reflected in his eyes with a hungry kind of glint that had her pulse rate skipping about. But he was a man. She hadn’t been with a guy since Bobby Mullins, and she remembered vividly what a disaster that had been.
They’d hooked up at Duane’s, both too drunk to know what they’d done. Hungover, they’d attempted another go-around in the morning, but it had left them both feeling used and sick. She’d sworn off men at that point. Right after that she’d met Brianna. That had been almost a year ago. She shivered at the recollections.
“You cold?” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.
“No, I…” His hand grazed the side of her breast, and her nipples immediately pebbled. “Yeah, maybe a little.” She had not just fluttered her lashes at the man. First, Shawn’s kiss, now this guy’s come-on? She was more desperate than she thought. But what the hell? After the rejection from the woman in the great room, Deirdre was feeling more than a little needy. For goodness’ sake, she’d just been bawling her eyes out over not getting laid. What was the difference between the dildos she kept in the box under her bed, and real, live flesh and blood pumping into her? Emotional attachment, that’s what. But she was feeling hopeless enough to risk it.
“You want to go someplace warmer?” Austin’s hands continued to trail awareness up and down he
r arms.
“I live really far away.”
His head tipped back as if she’d struck him, and he dropped his hands. Then he laughed. “I was thinking up to the house. But I wouldn’t turn you down if you wanted a nightcap at my place. It’s not far from here.”
Heat pulsed in Deirdre’s cheeks. How could she have misunderstood?
“No, well, the house is good.”
“Deirdre, we’re both adults.” His voice dropped to a sultry caress. “I’m not looking for anything long-term. Three or four hours, maybe the night.” He trailed a finger from her cheek bone to her chin.
“No … well … oh, hell, I’m not very good at this.”
“I think you’re great.” Austin leaned in, his lips nibbling at her mouth.
The heat of his breath caressed her face, flashing straight to her breasts, then lower still. Her muscles tightened. He was good-looking, if you enjoyed men. And evidently, tonight she did. Who was she to deny her body the carnal pleasures of another?
She laid her hand on his cheek. “Austin, why don’t we start with the nightcap and see where that gets us? Hmm?”
Twenty-five minutes later, Deirdre was following his Jag into a condominium complex in Cutler, thinking she was making the mistake of a lifetime. Okay, maybe not that long, but certainly the biggest in a very long time. She’d looked for Emilio and Rachel before she left the mansion, hoping one of them would talk some sense into her, but apparently they’d hooked up or already headed out.
What was she doing? She could count on one hand the number of partners she’d had. Now she was considering a one-night stand with a stranger? On the short drive over, Deirdre talked herself out of anything more than some idle banter and a cup of coffee. Going further than that would be complicated and deceptive. Besides, she still had a forty-five minute drive home.
“Pull in right next to me,” Austin yelled and waved her into an empty parking spot. He ran around his vehicle and opened the door for her. “Welcome to my humble abode. Well, not mine; I’m just renting it while I do some business here in Cutler.”
He held her hand on the way up the tarred walk. Mums in shades of orange and yellow lined the walk. The circle of light from the front lights on either side of the door illuminated a well-manicured lawn, weeded gardens, and well-trimmed hedges. Good landscaping. She wondered who did their work.
“Get your head in the game, Dee.” She didn’t know she’d said it out loud until Austin paused with the key in the lock.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just admiring the grounds.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice place.” He looked back over his shoulder as he opened the door for her.
The condo they entered was utilitarian, the furniture leather and heavy wood, very masculine. The whole first floor was visible from the front door where she stood frozen, too confused to move. Austin closed the door and stepped around her, heading into the small kitchen area.
“Can I get you something to drink?” He ducked his head into the fridge, his jeans pulling snug against his ass. “I don’t have much—coffee, water, wine.” He stood up and looked at her. She almost giggled at the way he tilted his head to one side, sort of that lost puppy, take-me-home kind of look. His blue eyes mirrored her confusion.
“Deirdre, can I get you anything?”
Yeah, those luscious lips between my thighs. Deirdre shook her head. Coffee. She was here for a cup of coffee before she drove home. Nothing more. But her body was screaming for something else.
“Wine sounds nice.”
“Chardonnay, okay?” Austin pulled out a bottle.
No, just coffee. She couldn’t drive home with more alcohol in her system. The moose would be out this time of year. “Sounds lovely,” she said, wondering why she was letting her body make all the decisions. Deirdre walked over to the stereo system, perusing the CDs haphazardly lying about on the receiver. It was the only thing out of place in his condo.
“I have Mozart and Def Leopard and everything in between. Choose your poison.” Austin’s voice washed over her shoulder as he stepped up behind her. She could feel the heat of his chest against her back. Not the soft, round, plump feeling of a woman, but the steel power of a man. Her pulse rate ratcheted up a notch, and her nipples strained painfully against her lace bra.
She took the glass he offered and ducked under his arm, stepping to the couch and away from the intoxicating scent of his cologne.
“Something quiet. After the loud bands at the party, it would be nice.” Actually, she needed something to soothe her pulsing nerves. “You live here long?” Deirdre gulped the wine, grateful Austin’s attention on the stereo kept him from seeing her shaking hand. What was she doing here?
“A few months. I have some businesses up and down the coast. Then I head back to Boston.”
The quiet strains of piano music filled the room. She recognized the artist as one of her father’s favorites. Immediately, her brooding thoughts turned to her family.
There had been so many nights in the last few months she’d sat with her father in the quiet of her former home. She and her two sisters rotated nights, giving their mother a short reprieve from the hopelessness of growing old. Deidre couldn’t count the number of times she played the CDs, hoping to give him strength and courage in the memory of who he once was. But it seemed he had given up on life. Now, they all watched his body wither its way to death.
“…Deirdre, yoo-hoo, you okay?” Austin was bent over, intently staring into her eyes, only inches from her nose.
“Sorry, Austin. Drifted off for a moment. What were you saying?”
“I was talking about my consulting firm, but obviously that put you to sleep.” He sat on the leather couch, lacing his fingers through hers, pulling her down next to him. “Sit. Enjoy the wine and the music.”
Though Deirdre had had only two one-night stands in her lifetime, one in college, and of course, Bobby, she could distinguish genuine interest from lust. It was concern she saw in the cobalt pools of Austin’s eyes and the gentle curve of his mouth. She leaned against him seeking solace in the solid feeling of his body.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked, rubbing his lips in her hair.
“About what?”
“Wherever you went just a minute ago.”
She didn’t know this man. She shouldn’t want to tell him about her father. It was such a private matter. But as Austin stroked his fingers along her thigh, Deirdre longed to have someone other than her family understand the emotional burden she slogged around. She inhaled his scent and sought comfort in the soft heat of his touch. Sex was the furthest thing from her mind. It appeared to be unimportant to Austin as well. At this moment, all she wanted was a compassionate friend, and the man snuggled next to her fit the bill. Sipping thoughtfully, she let the sadness roll over her.
“It’s nothing more than a lot of people go through with aging parents.” She shook her head, remembering her father when she was young, heading off to work in the morning, his briefcase in his hand, a smile on his face. She wanted him back.
“My father’s getting old, and well, he’s not aging gracefully. We’re not sure what’s wrong with him. He had a heart attack several months ago, and he just seems to have lost the will to live. He’s confused a lot of the time, and the doctors think it may be the early onset of Alzheimer’s.” Deirdre lifted her shoulder and sipped from her glass. “It’s been a rough time for our family, but mostly my mum. They’re coming up on their fortieth anniversary. I don’t think he’ll remember the celebration, let alone his wedding day. I just can’t imagine how hard it is on her. I’m impressed how resilient she’s been through this whole thing. I can only hope I have half as much courage and fortitude to help someone I love … you know … through a rough time.”
They stared at each other, her brown eyes filled with sadness, his filled with compassion. Sipping thoughtfully from their glasses, neither spoke for a long moment.
Ayden barely remembered his f
ather. A Boston cop, he’d been killed in the line of duty when he was only four. His mother had worked herself to death holding down three jobs while trying to bring up two rambunctious boys in the heart of the city. His little brother, Thomas, had suffered the same fate as their father. Ayden knew heartache when he saw it.
“I’m sorry, Deirdre.” His hand found its way to her cheek of its own accord. She was warm and soft and smelled like gardenias, and his lips melted into hers before he thought about the consequences of his actions.
He set his wine glass on the coffee table and took the glass out of her hands, placing it next to his. His mouth tangled with Deirdre’s as her lips grew pliant against his. Their breathing came out in ragged hitches, and he laid her back on the couch. She tasted of wine and salt and something totally all her own, and Ayden’s head swam with the heady mixture. His tongue danced with hers as he teased it in and out of her mouth. He dipped in to taste, then retreated to feel the silky heat of hers sampling him.
He wound his fingers in her hair, enjoying the silky strands tumbling down his arms. He wanted her. Not just any woman, not Jameson’s bimbo, but this woman. Jameson. Damn. Ayden pulled back abruptly.
“Deirdre, I’m sorry.” He sat up and swiped the taste of her away with the back of his hand. “I don’t know what came over me.” Actually, he knew exactly what had taken over. The tented fly of his pants was evidence of exactly where he’d expected to go.
His intentions hadn’t been honorable when he’d driven her here. Before she’d gotten out of her little Jeep, she’d been an informant, albeit an unknowing one, but an informant nonetheless. The woman panting next to him, with lips swollen from his kisses, had suddenly become a person. She had a family and sorrow, and who cared if she could give him a complete dossier on Jameson. He couldn’t use her that way. She seemed so emotionally raw at the moment, it would be insensitive of him to take advantage of her. Sometimes he hated the moral high ground.
