“You approve.”
“It’s charming, like the rest of the house. I don’t know how you ever leave.”
He shrugged. “It’s been in the family since before I was born.”
“Along with the penthouse?”
“Yeah.” He grinned, the warmth in his eyes doing funny things to her tummy. “Look who’s the detective now.”
Cheeks warm with pleasure, she squeezed past him into the bedroom, nerve endings firing off pheromones when she brushed against him. The room’s windows overlooked the side of the house. Manicured lawn gave way to a pine needle-scattered forest floor several yards away.
“Dinner in half an hour.” His footsteps faded.
Sighing, she plopped on the bed. Resisting her attraction to Greg was exhausting. She didn’t fit in his world and she had the distinct impression—helped along by all the cracks of his fellow cops—he didn’t do relationships.
Dropping back to lay flat on the bed, she stared at the Swiss dotted-lace canopy. These people had more money than a mule could pack. How many houses did they have? What kind of family dynamics had Greg grown up with?
Her parents had left her alone for the most part. She lacked courage and had zero interest in adventure—so different from the rest of her family. An embarrassment. Grandma Thompson held the gold medal in downhill skiing, Mom had silvered in luge, and Dad had been a member of the gold-medal hockey team before they’d married. Nicholas had happily carried on the tradition with his gold medal in snowboarding, while Ally lived the exciting life of a claims processor, sans any mildly interesting hobbies or extra-curricular activities.
She rolled over. The windows were draped in the same Swiss-dotted fabric. Maples and pine trees swayed outside. Birds chirped. A puffy-cheeked squirrel scampered into sight. Her lids grew heavy.
The room was dark when she opened her eyes. Moonlight lent a dreamlike quality to the woods outside the window. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, covering a big yawn with her hand.
“Thought you were going to sleep through the night, Sugar Lips.” Greg stood silhouetted by the moonlight in the doorway.
“Holy crap.” She pressed a hand over her galloping heart. “You should wear a cowbell or something.”
“A what?”
“Never mind. Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“No harm, no foul.”
“Why do men always talk in sports terminology?” She ran a hand through her tangled hair as she stood. Her toes curled against the cold hardwood. She’d had shoes on earlier…Her shoes were now neatly lined up in front of the closet. She raised her eyebrows at Greg.
He rubbed the back of his neck, distracting her with his bulging bicep. “I came to check on you when you didn’t show up for dinner. When I found you asleep, I thought you’d be more comfortable without shoes.” A shiver of awareness arrowed through her body. “Guess it’s part of having a sister.”
A sister. Well, that neatly took the wind out of her sails. She was envisioning his hot, oiled, naked body and he thought of her like a sister. Wonderful. Perfect.
“Something wrong?”
“Nope.” She pasted on a big smile. “Not a thing.”
“Are you sure—”
“I’m starving. Did you say something about food?” Ally winced, but desperate times and all that. She never, ever talked about eating around men. Or food in general. Anything drawing attention to her or her weight.
He stared at her, the room too much in shadow for her to make out his expression.
Nibbling on her lower lip, she laced her fingers and waited semi-patiently until he led the way out of the room. She padded barefoot down the hallway and her gaze slid over to take in his large, bare feet and denim, worn low on his hips.
Settled at the big kitchen table with a bowl of steaming chili and the wonderful aroma of cornbread tantalizing her taste buds, she tried to resist the intimate picture; just the two of them in a big kitchen eating food he’d prepared for her. Her hair mussed from napping and no shoes. He thinks of me as a sister.
“I hope I didn’t ruin the meal.”
“Nope. I left the food to simmer while you slept and warmed the cornbread. No big deal.”
What woman wouldn’t be flinging off her clothes and crawling across the table when the guy was sweet, considerate and could cook? Not even taking into account the sexy hunk of man part. He sucked her in so easily.
Breathe. She would not let her hormones make a fool out of her. He was only here because her life was in danger, playing the hero to the boring claims processor. He had no interest in her personally, beyond a mild brotherly affection. Maybe if she repeated it enough times she’d stop caring.
The delicious chili and melt-in-your-mouth cornbread helped. She even managed not to fantasize about dragging Greg’s naked body onto the sturdy table, climbing on top of him and doing things that were illegal in three states. Of course, in the fantasies she did not have, she was a perfect size six.
She helped Greg clear the dishes then shoved him out of the kitchen so she could clean. Anything to get some breathing space. Burying her arms elbow deep in suds calmed her.
When she finished, she draped the kitchen towel over the big farmhouse sink and walked into the living room. Greg stood gazing out the windows. Just like that, all her hormones went into happy dance mode again.
“I’ve already said it, but some things bear repeating. This house is amazing.”
He turned and smiled. Those dimples of his were lethal. “I appreciate this place a little more every time I come. Must be getting old.”
Ally crossed the room to stand beside him. Peace seeped into her bones. They both sighed at the same time and exchanged quick grins.
“I suppose we should have that talk now.”
The reluctance in his deep voice gave her courage. Putting a face to her nemesis scared her.
She got comfy on the overstuffed couch facing the massive stone fireplace. Even resting dormant, the hearth was beautiful.
“Let’s start a week before yesterday. We can go back further if necessary.”
He sketched out the timeline before handing her the notepad and pencil. Looking at all the events of the past few weeks on paper organized her thoughts. Her simple life made the timeline easy to fill in and emphasized how incredibly dull her life was.
Early to work, late to arrive home, a video under her arm half the time, a romance novel the other half. If she wanted to have some fun, she went to the library or a bookstore. Sometimes, she even went to the movies. Alone.
She hid from life. A ball of shame grew bigger with each stroke of her pencil. Her fingers and her brain cramped. She collapsed back against the couch.
“Well,” she muttered, “that was a complete waste of time and energy.”
“Nah. I’ve learned a lot. You live for routines. And your kitchen is scary clean.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yeah, ’cause every Tom, Dick and Harry scrub counters and floors Tuesday and Thursday then do top to bottom cleaning Saturday. Yup, totally normal.”
Ally flushed. “Ha-ha. You’re sooo funny.” She caught his teasing grin and dropped her gaze. It was pretty lame. “Yeah, my life is beyond pathetic.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
She looked up at his tone. His gaze traveled down her body. Her cheeks, toes, and everything in between heated. She surreptitiously peeked at herself. The position she’d adopted thrust her breasts out, accentuating them and making her tummy look almost toned. Heck, even her thighs didn’t look half bad from this angle.
Heat darkened Greg’s sea-green eyes. He stared at her lips and she licked them. His eyes narrowed. Her pulse ratcheted up. Was spontaneous combustion possible?
Still staring at her lips, he slid down the couch next to her, draped his arm along the back of the couch behind her and leaned closer. Anticipation hummed. His lips settled over hers with the sweetness of a Lindt truffle. He nibbled at her mouth and whispered his fir
m lips across hers, the pressure so light she chased after him for more. She moaned her satisfaction when he deepened the kiss, the slide of his tongue along hers unleashing passion. She buried her fingers in his thick hair and gave her newfound sensuality free rein.
Greg pulled back, breathing heavily. Along with a healthy dose of oxygen came the realization that she lay draped across his lap, all wanton and uninhibited. She wouldn’t mind being wanton and uninhibited. Would, in fact, love it—in another lifetime. Insecurity battered back arousal and she scrambled off him.
Greg grabbed her back. She opened her mouth to protest and his lips covered hers again. Insecurity fell by the wayside. Her mind wanted to analyze his motivation, while her heart relished the sensations pouring over her nerve endings.
Desire simmered in his eyes, tempting her more than Godiva chocolates in the throes of PMS. Regardless, she knew better and she didn’t dare test her limits. Not with a guy like Greg.
Aching to be wild just once in her life, she drew back. He let her go this time. Scooting to the far corner of the big couch, she stared into the dark grate of the empty fireplace. Unsettled by Greg’s gaze on her, she fidgeted with the pillow fringe. She had no desire to scratch an itch for him. What did she want?
“So…” he murmured.
She flicked a glance at him, itchy and irritable with unsatisfied desire and confusion. His endearing lopsided grin didn’t help.
“What?” Her voice came out a little sharper than she intended.
His eyebrows climbed skyward, and she squeezed her eyes closed in embarrassment.
Way to show class and worldly experience, Ally. Snap the guy’s head off, which is ever so reasonable when you’re the one applying the emergency brake. Sheesh.
“I don’t imagine you’re tired after your nap. What do you want to do?” The husky invitation in his voice was unmistakable.
She clenched her hands and thighs against temptation. Going to bed with him would surpass her other experiences by a mile. Granted, beating the awkward fumbling of a college dorm room or an unsatisfying two-minute interlude in a pitch-black bedroom wouldn’t take much.
She smiled sweetly. “I love Scrabble.”
His grin slipped.
“Do you have it?”
“Uh, probably.”
“Want me to grab it?”
He shook his head and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.
Her fingers itched to help. Ally sat on her hands. Why, oh why, did she have to be such a stick-in-the-mud? She leapt up and paced to the windows. The stars reflected on the glassy surface of the lake. Greg’s footsteps left the room and she bounced lightly on her toes.
It was her fault they weren’t naked and satisfying all her fantasies right now. His willingness for a roll in the hay had throbbed against her hip, rampantly apparent.
In the window’s reflection, Greg returned. Why did she have to be such a freakin’ coward?
Scrabble box in hand, he settled on the floor in front of a big square coffee table and pulled out the game pieces. “Well?” He glanced up. “Are we going to play?”
“Yep.” She sat on the plush rug and rested her elbows on the low coffee table.
Greg pulled an A and went first, spelling out B-I-G in the center of the board.
“Gee, make it easy, why don’t you?”
He sat back and patiently waited, clearly unfazed by her whining. She stared at her tiles. Finally, she went with G-I-Z-M-O.
“Gizmo, huh? Do you have a favorite?”
Why did she think he was referring to something sexual? Could be the heat in his eyes, the daring look he gave her or the memory of the kiss they’d shared.
“My rolling muscle massager.”
“Is that what they call it in your circle?” His thoughtful expression didn’t fool her. Especially when he laid D-I-L-D-O on the board. “We use another name where I come from.”
He smiled angelically and fished more tiles out of the bag.
Oh, so that’s how it was going to be. Well, two could play his little game. She smiled just as sweetly and put down three letters after his. L-U-B-E.
Challenge lit his aqua eyes. “Game on, Sugar Lips.”
Thirty minutes later, a fascinating array of very naughty words filled the board. Greg grinned and added C-U-F-F-S after H-A-N-D.
Ally stared at the board. The spirit of competition riding her hard, she narrowed her eyes. Gleeful exhilaration filled her and an evil smile grew. Using the N in N-I-P-P-L-E, she spelled out S-P-A-N-K.
Greg choked. She glanced at him through her lashes. Color rode high in his cheeks and his eyes glittered dangerously.
“Sooo….”
A crooked smile tipped his lips. “You want a spanking while handcuffed to my bed?”
The image whipped through her like a lash, setting all her nerve endings on fire and dampening her panties. Holy crap. In about five seconds she’d lunge across the table and rip his clothes off. She cleared her throat.
“Why did you become a police officer?” She selected fresh tiles from the velvet bag.
She looked up when he didn’t answer. His expression was perfectly, utterly blank. The teasing light extinguished, his smile nothing but a memory.
“Freshman year of college, I came home for Thanksgiving.” His low monotone slid dread down her arms, tingling her fingertips. “Place was silent, which never happened with a teenage girl in the house. Or my parents either.”
The dread congealed in the pit of her stomach.
“Then the smell hit me. Sharp, metallic.” Greg fiddled with a small tile, his eyes glazed. “I called for them, but I think I already knew. You know how in a bad dream everything feels muffled? Searching was like that, like moving through soupy fog. Until I walked down the hallway into their bedroom.”
Ally bit down hard on her lip, wanting to beg him to stop, wishing she could take back her question. She’d only wanted to know more. A small nugget of information about the man who turned her inside out.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. The walls, the ceiling, every piece of furniture splattered with blood.” He lifted his head and stared out the windows behind her. Ally fisted her hands against the urge to touch him. Comfort him. Instinctively, she knew he wouldn’t want her sympathy. “The killer, or maybe killers, I don’t know, had arranged them on their bed, post mortem, their hands linked across the silk comforter.”
Her head swam with the images—gruesome, horrifying. She couldn’t begin to imagine how much worse it had been for him. To find his parents murdered. They must have been elegant, refined; devoted to one another and their children.
“Fortunately, my sister had left for school before the killer got there.” Greg blinked and his gaze focused again, returning him to their game and her. Emotion flitted across his eyes. Shock over what he’d told her, maybe.
“Anyway, their death changed everything. I finished out my degree at the local college and got a bachelors in criminal science instead of law.”
“I’m so sorry, Greg.” She couldn’t hold in the words, or the aching sympathy.
He merely nodded, staring at his tiles.
“What happened to your sister?”
“We didn’t have grandparents or any of the aunts and uncles so many families are riddled with. I switched schools. Someone had to raise her. Celia had just turned fifteen.”
That set her back on her heels. She didn’t know why the thought of him raising a teenage girl shocked her so much. He seemed so lackadaisical and uncaring. A lothario who’d raised his sister. Going through a traumatic experience like that, just the two of them; Greg and Celia must be super-close.
Greg glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle. “One more game?”
She followed his gaze and her lips parted. “I had no idea it was so late. I didn’t mean to keep you up. You must be tired.”
“Nah, I’m used to irregular hours. And I don’t need a lot of sleep.”
“It’s two. I’m never up this
late.” How lame is that? Honest to God, though, she couldn’t remember ever having been up so late. Stifling a yawn, she packed up the game pieces.
“Where does this go?”
“I’ll take it.”
He disappeared down the hallway with the game, and Ally strolled toward her assigned bedroom. She didn’t know how to handle Greg, which likely explained why she avoided men like him. Too self-confident, too good looking, too sexy, too muscular, too good a kisser…
Ally tapped her fingernail on the window. A possum scampered away.
A shiver of hot awareness trickled down her spine. She turned and drank in the gorgeous, willing man standing in the bedroom doorway. Why was she holding out? An opportunity like this wouldn’t arise again. Having sex had nothing to do with falling in love, right?
“Well, night.” He stepped back.
Guess she’d thought for too long. As usual. “Good night.”
He left her with an empty room and an even emptier feeling deep inside. When was she going to stop being such a coward? She needed to grab hold of life with both hands. Then again, changing how you handled life couldn’t be done overnight. Maybe she should cut herself some slack. Not something she was real good at.
Sighing, she shucked her clothes and climbed into the plush, soft bed. Rough life. She winced. The things he’d been through were rough. The sacrifices Greg had made to raise his sister awed her.
Chapter Eight
Groaning in frustration, Ally rolled over and glowered at the ceiling. Tossing and turning was accomplishing nothing. Throwing off the covers, she climbed out of bed and walked to the door. The deep stillness of night lay over the house like a blanket. Tiptoeing down the hall, her hand brushed a doorknob and she paused.
Normally, she wouldn’t dream of snooping, but Greg didn’t seem like a stranger anymore and she was bored spitless. Biting her lip, she opened the door and ducked inside. Moonlight streamed across the huge room, falling over a big bed and mirrored dresser. The fractured reflection drew her. Dozens of photographs in ornate frames were scattered across the dresser’s marble top.
Sweet Deception Page 8
