A Just Deception

by Adrienne Giordano

  Doug, his board tucked under his arm, chose that moment to walk by. He slowed his pace but didn’t stop. “Hi, Isabelle.”

  “Hey. Good ride?”

  He smiled, his straight white teeth and dimples shining. “Pretty good.” He jerked his head at Peter. “Howzit, brah?”

  “Good,” Peter continued drying himself off and rolled his eyes. He watched the other man walk toward the street and turned back to her. “Surfer speak. Has he ever even been to Hawaii?”

  Isabelle laughed. “I couldn’t say.”

  “He a friend of yours?”

  That’s right. Peter the caveman didn’t like to share. He’d said so yesterday when he talked about his ex-wife. “I know him a little bit.”

  Peter spread the towel on the sand and reached back to unzip his wet suit. Oh, this would be a pleasure. She already had a nice view of his rock-solid arms and, given what she saw in that clingy wetsuit, the rest had to be good.

  Focused on shoving the wetsuit down his arms, he peeled the suit off his body to reveal his chest and abs. Yummy. Springy dark hair, perfect pecs and one hell of a six-pack. The heat of something truly amazing happening stole her breath. Had the sun just risen inside her chest?

  Oblivious to her staring, at least until he’d gotten the suit pulled to his waist, he glanced over at her just as she licked her lips.

  Their eyes met. There would be no denying she’d been checking him out.

  “Again, Izzy?” he mimicked from the day before.

  Playing along, she thunked herself on the head. “I’m sorry! I’m a single woman, you’re a hot guy. It’s hardwired.”

  He cracked up and dropped onto the towel he’d spread on the sand. “Yeah. I’ve heard that before.”

  Grinning at him came too easy. Shoot. She liked him.

  “I see the alarm is in,” she said.

  “Yep. All hooked up. I’ll show you how to use it before I leave. Damn, this is a perfect evening. If every day could be this good, I won’t so much mind this month off.”

  A month? “Vic must love you if he gave you a month off.”

  For some reason, Peter grunted and continued to stare at the sky.

  Finally, he rolled to his side and propped himself on his elbow. “Vic put me on R&R. I was coming back for my brother’s wedding and Vic felt it would be in my best interest if I took a few weeks off. Speaking of Stephen’s wedding, I don’t have a date. What are you doing Saturday night?”

  “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether you’re asking me to your brother’s wedding.”

  He opened his mouth. Shut it again. “Guess I screwed that up.” He put his hand on her ankle and squeezed. “Izzy, would you like to be my date for my brother’s wedding on Saturday night?”

  The answer came to her immediately. When the hell had she turned into a flake?

  She should think about it. For no other reason than to get it straight in her head that what was happening between them could only be a physical attraction.

  “I’d love to. Thank you for asking.”

  So much for thinking about it. With him stretched out on that towel, that incredible body, the curly hair and the killer smile, how could she resist?

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “And thank you. It’ll be fun. Vic and Gina are coming in.”

  “Is Gina showing yet?”

  “It’s not quite a bump.” He grinned. “A pebble maybe.”

  She retrieved her forgotten, now tepid wine from the sand. “Why is Vic coming to your brother’s wedding?”

  “Steve’s been out to Chicago a few times and he and Vic became friends.”

  “Ah.” She sipped her wine, put it back down. “You haven’t told me why Vic put you on vacation.”

  “You caught that, ay?”

  She caught it all right. “You’re good at deflecting the things you don’t want to talk about, Peter. It’s your rotten luck I’ve been doing it for years and can spot it a mile away.”

  He dug his fingers into the sand and let out a breath. “My last assignment turned bad and I went a little crazy.”

  Her pulse kicked up but, deep down, she couldn’t picture Peter going off his rocker. He’d been the prince of cool during her ordeal the previous night.

  “What happened?”

  He frowned at a seashell he’d dug out of the sand and tossed it away. “I switched shifts with one of my teammates one morning. We were protecting a diplomat on a Middle East trip. I had the stomach flu and couldn’t walk two feet without puking. I asked Roy to cover the shift for me and, while they were transporting the big shot, someone opened fire. The diplomat lived, Roy didn’t.”

  Isabelle’s legs melted. And she thought being a lawyer was hard. “I’m so sorry.”

  He tossed away another shell. “He had a wife and two kids. He was my friend.”

  First Tiny. Then this. She could see why Vic forced him to take a vacation. She scooted off the chair to sit next to him. “You were sick. There was nothing you could have done.”

  He looked up at her, those dark blue eyes a little haunted. “Tell that to his family.”

  Silence hung between them until he finally turned toward the ocean. His damp hair pooled around his face, and she gave in and slid her hand through it. He inclined his head sideways, into her hand.

  Isabelle closed her eyes. She could do this. She’d flip the switch in her head and forget how much she liked him. Making it a physical thing shouldn’t be hard. Not after all her years of practice. They’d be good together and both needed the release.

  Opening her eyes, she realized he was watching her. She pulled her hand from his hair, dragged it down his cheek, over his shoulder to the dark swirling hair on his chest. Forget how much you like him. She bit her bottom lip before moving in for the kill.

  “What are you doing?” Peter asked, his head—both of them—about to explode. He grabbed her hand before it completed its journey south.

  She’d done it again. That closing her eyes thing where her demeanor changed and she became distant. What the hell?

  “Did we have a signal malfunction?” Izzy asked. “I mean, I think I have pretty good radar and I thought we had, um…chemistry, I guess…between us.”

  He squeezed her hand. “There’s no malfunction.”

  She slid her hand away. “Then what’s the problem?”

  She wasn’t the only one perturbed. “Creepy Izzy is the problem.”

  She opened her mouth and left it hanging for a second. “Did you just call me creepy?”

  “No. I called the person you turned into creepy. I’d love to give Fun Izzy a good shagging, but Creepy Izzy I’ll pass on.”

  She drew her head back. “Huh?”

  “You change. You did it last night right before you kissed me. But when you kissed me at your office, it was Fun Izzy.”

  She sat and stared at him, either thinking he was completely whacked or that he’d nailed it.

  “I…I can’t believe you noticed that. No one has ever noticed.”

  Nailed it.

  An insane flickering started under his skin. “Then they weren’t paying attention because you definitely check out.”

  “No, Peter.” Her voice hitched and she moved an inch closer. “It’s not you.”

  Yeah. Nice try. “I’m the only one here.”

  She scrubbed her hands over her face. Stalling probably.

  “It’s a coping thing I do.”

  “A coping thing?” He sat up. “You need a coping thing to have sex with me? Jesus, Izzy, you should stop talking right now because this is going off the rails.”

  “No.” She waved her hands at him. “That’s not what I mean. It’s the sex. I have to separate the physical from the emotional. I flip a switch in my head. It comes from the abuse. Please, Peter, try to understand.”

  “I don’t understand.” But, shit, he’d like to because the disappointment might just kill him.

  “No one has ever figured it out
. Particularly not someone I’ve known one day. I’ve told you things I haven’t shared with people I’ve known for years. I’m freaking out. Very much so.”

  All he could do was lay back and throw his forearm over his eyes. Could he be any more of a selfish prick? She was a victim of abuse and he was letting his dick do all the thinking. He had no idea what went on in her head…or her heart. He got rid of the thought and sat up to face her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

  She nodded. “I’ll try to explain it, but I don’t know if it’ll make sense to you.”

  “Give it a shot.”

  She sighed, gathered sand in her hand and let it slip between her fingers.

  “Sex for me has never been about making love. Being abused by someone I loved caused a…a malfunction…between sex, love and trust. Sex, just for the physical gratification is good for me, but if I start to get emotional, I get scared.” She brushed sand off his knee. “I loved Kendrick, and he exploited that love.

  “Three years ago I had my first serious relationship and the sex brought back all the pain. For the first time since the abuse happened, I cared about someone. As soon as the sex became more about an emotional connection rather than a physical one, I ended the relationship. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. I still don’t.”

  Separating the physical from the emotional. Holy hell. He could relate. The knot in his chest eased. He separated his feelings every day when he thought about all the lives lost at his hands. His job meant eliminating people to make the world safer and, somehow, over the years he’d learned to justify it.

  Izzy could have casual sex, no problem. But she turned into Creepy Izzy to do it. If he wanted to, he could have her. Creepy Izzy was a major turnoff though. Talk about flipping a switch. Maybe he had his own switch, because Fun Izzy was the girl that got him firing.

  He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “We’re moving at light speed here. We don’t have to. I’m crazy attracted to you, but Fun Izzy is the one I want.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. Jesus. He was screwing this up.

  “But, Peter, you still don’t understand.”

  Yes. He did. At least he thought so. “What?”

  She locked those beautiful, watery eyes on him. “Fun Izzy has never experienced making love. Emotionally speaking, she’s a virgin. Creepy Izzy always takes over. I don’t know how to change that.”

  Okay. He could tackle this one. “Yeah, you do. You did it today when you kissed me. That was Fun Izzy. You didn’t think about it. You just plastered one on me and it rocked my world.”

  No kidding there. He got hard thinking about that kiss.

  “Really?” She smiled a little. “You’re sure it was Fun Izzy?”

  He laughed. What a freaking conversation. “I’m positive. You have this thing you do when Creepy Izzy takes over. You close your eyes and, a few seconds later your attitude changes. That didn’t happen today. You didn’t close your eyes before you kissed me and you definitely weren’t distant.”

  She jerked her head up and down, her eyes getting brighter. “You’re right. I didn’t think about it. I just did it. And I liked it.”

  “Yeah, because it was Fun Izzy.” He squeezed her hands. “We need more Fun Izzy.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  He shrugged. “Hell if I know, but I’m not having sex with Creepy Izzy. I’m waiting on Fun Izzy. That okay with you?”

  She snorted. “I guess. You may wind up taking a lot of cold showers though.”

  Ain’t it the truth? He sighed. “At the rate I’m going, I’ll turn into an ice pop.”

  Wouldn’t that be fun?

  The ocean breeze blew her hair across her face. She pulled her hands free from his, put them on his cheeks and ran her thumb over the faded scar near his mouth. “You could leave, you know? Just forget the whole thing. You didn’t sign on for this. We could just be friends and I won’t hold it against you. I don’t want to pull you into my mess.”

  “Babe, I’m already in your mess. And I don’t want to just be your friend. I’d screw it up by constantly hitting on you.”

  She cracked up. Did he say something funny?

  “Let’s slow down and see where we wind up. We have our first date on Saturday night. It’s a start.”

  A smooth smile slid across her face. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Unable to resist, he ran his index finger down her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Hell yeah, it does.”

  When her stomach growled she rubbed her hand over it. “I’m hungry. I could order pizza.”

  He rolled to a standing position, reached his hand to her and pulled her up. “I’ll buy. Let me get my clothes out of the truck and get cleaned up.”

  “There’s a shower around the side of the house.”

  “Got it.” He picked up the towel, flung it out to get rid of the sand, and suddenly she was in front of him, snagging the towel and wrapping her arms around him. Fun Izzy.

  Perfection. The way she fit in his arms. The way her head tucked in just below his chin. The way she made him feel like he never wanted to let go.

  But then she backed away. Too bad.

  “I’ll meet you inside,” she said. “By the way, did you happen to notice that car parked by the beach entrance?”

  Peter turned toward the street. “No. Why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, but people don’t usually park there. There was a man in the car.” She shook her head. “He was probably picking up his kid or something.”

  “I’ll check it out.”

  “Nah. It’s not a big deal.”

  But she’d brought it up. “You wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t bugging you. I’ll check it out. I have to get my clothes out of my truck anyway. I’ll meet you inside.”

  He hefted his board and walked up the beach to the entrance. Whoever was sitting there when Izzy came home was not there now.

  And Peter had a nagging feeling it hadn’t been someone waiting for their kid.

  Chapter Eight

  After pizza with Izzy, fatigue dragging at him, Peter drove back to his parents’ estate and spotted a large appliance box—what the hell is this now?—on the porch of the cottage. He wasn’t expecting any deliveries.

  He parked in the driveway and sat eyeballing the box. Had his mother mentioned anything? Nothing came to mind. Damn. He blew out a breath, ran his cupped hand over his mouth and scratched his neck. He’d just check it out.

  Except his heart was damn near beating itself to death. He’d probably have a coronary before he even reached the porch.

  Another deep breath. It’s a box, asshole.

  He got out of the car, stole a glance around the side wall and waited. No movement. Definitely not anyone hiding behind the box. Inside maybe? Peter reached for the weapon that should have been at his waist. Shit. No weapon. Vic took it from him. Psychos shouldn’t carry guns.

  The resourceful prick even boosted the one in the safe at his condo. For backup reasons, he had given Vic the safe’s combination after Tiny died. Tiny had always kept the combination so someone could open the safe in case Peter got injured or killed.

  Not a problem. Wearing his boots had come in handy because he could take a flying leap and land feet first on top of the box. The boots would do some damage. He could snap a neck with these boots.

  Sweat trickled down his face and he swiped at it. Time to go.

  He blasted from his spot, got some speed going and leaped. He landed on his feet—a solid ten for sticking it—and pulverized the box.

  Empty box.

  Fucking idiot.

  The front door of the cottage smacked open. “What are you doing?” his brother yelled. “You just wrecked Mom’s box.”

  “What?”

  Stephen pointed at the destroyed box. “She wanted that. The new dishwasher got installed and she sent me down here to get it. I figured I’d wait for you.”

  P
eter bent at the waist and sucked in air. Who the hell did he think would be in there? Almost as bad as knocking over the deadly potted plant. He either needed to get back to work or deal with this freaking anxiety.

  Laughing at himself, he straightened up and shoved past Stephen who still wore dress slacks from work, but his jacket was off and nowhere to be seen. The sleeves of his white shirt were folded to his elbows.

  “So, you decided to make yourself at home?”

  The pretty boy’s face lit up. As he aged, Stephen’s looks had come to resemble Elvis in his prime—the long straight nose, angular face and dark hair had the women going wild.

  “Why not?” Steve said.

  Peter stalked to the kitchen for a couple of beers. “Do you people not understand boundaries?”

  That’s it, redirect the conversation so he won’t ask about the assassinated box.

  “Sure, we understand boundaries. We just choose to ignore them.”

  Peter made a scoffing noise. “Of course. What a perfect explanation.”

  “Mom sent dinner for you. It’s in the fridge.”

  Peter glanced toward the fridge. “I already ate. Thanks though. She does this every night. I come home and find a plate in the fridge. She’s killing me with guilt.”

  “That’s the plan, big brother.”

  He walked back to the living room and handed Steve a beer. They clinked and took a slug while Peter moved to the cushioned side chair.

  “How do you handle her? She’s never pissed at you.”

  That got Steve puffing up his chest and Peter laughed.

  “I love this,” his brother said. “Two Silver Stars and you can’t figure out how to make our mother happy.”

  Peter held out his hands. “What can I say? I’m not doing the people around me much good lately.”

  Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Oh, boo-hoo. I’m guessing we’re talking about Roy. And maybe Tiny. After all, you’re the Emperor of Fix-It Land. If you can’t keep two men from dying, you must be doing something wrong.”

  The smart-ass comment earned a flip of the bird. “I’m not the Emperor of Fix-It Land.”

  That seemed to amuse Steve because he let out a sarcastic laugh. “If that’s all you’ve got, you’re fucked. You are priceless. They were grown men who liked to live on the edge. Just because you were there doesn’t mean you were responsible for their safety.”