Deception (4 page)

He still saw the dusty rose of her tits through her shirt, their hardness conveying her arousal. His mouth went dry as he focused on delicately flexing and extending her foot in different directions. “Does that hurt?”

“No.”

“It’s not broken then. Just hyper extended.”

“Thank you, doctor David.”

He set her foot down gently. “Look, I’m just trying to help you.”

“Are you? You could have helped me a little better by not watching me in the bathroom like a creep.”

“This is my house.”

“I know! It’s not like I could ever forget with you reminding me all the time.”

“You’re all bruised.” His fingertips grazed her hip and thigh, moving to her side and shoulder. Damn, the marks were brutal.

“I fell.”

Fell on what? A pair of brutal hands?
“They look like handprints.”

“I bruise easily. Will you please stop looking at me, you freaking pervert?”

She was smoking hot when she was angry. “What were you listening to?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Yes actually, he would.

“Julian, what are you doing in this bathroom anyway?”

“Rosa’s cleaning mine.”

“I need to turn off the water.” She moved to stand and winced at the pain from her sprained ankle. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom.

“Put me down, dammit.”

He gingerly lowered her into the fragrant warm water that smelled of her and turned off the faucet. The shirt she wore became completely translucent and he was mesmerized. The pent up sexual tension between them came to a head with raging force. He needed to turn around and walk away, but he was no longer in control of his body or his mind. A small part of him wanted to leave, but a large part of him demanded to stay. That demand had started as a spark, eventually consuming his rational thought and every cell within his body, moving through him like fire consumes a forest.

***

Maura forgot about the pain in her ankle when she saw the intense desire on Julian’s face. His erection was unmistakable and the looks he threw her said he had needs that she could help satisfy. His eyes slowly smoldered like embers as he achingly perused her body. The lines on his beautiful face intensified until he scowled at her for causing him the pain of wanting her. His bright green eyes turned dark, almost black with his passion.

There was a time when she would have been lusting after his body in return. He stood over her as a mighty Greek god, cut from marble, virile and completely male. Any moment his strength could overpower her and she’d be at his mercy. The thought of him having his way with her didn’t scare her. She wanted him, but she knew they weren’t ready. First he’d need to accept her with all of her flaws and problems. If he couldn’t do that then they shouldn’t be intimate.

His wet torso and the dirt mixed with sweat that clung to his biceps were enough to make her mouth run dry. She swallowed thickly.

When his hand molded over her breast she whimpered. Her eyes filled with tears from the longing she knew would go unfulfilled. When his eyes locked with hers what he saw there had him pulling away, but he didn’t go far.

Did he plan to watch her bathe?
She had to get rid of him—he’d seen too much already. Not her flesh, she didn’t care so much about that, but he’d seen her vulnerability—the yearning she had for his touch and the need to have him remove Alan’s touch from her body. Keeping her weaknesses secret was the only defense she had to use against him.

“So you’re just going to continue to creep me out then?”

“What?”

“Are you going to stand there and watch me?”

“No.” He swallowed. “I’m gonna . . . I think I’ll go make a sandwich.”

At the mention of a sandwich Maura’s stomach made itself known with a loud growl. He paused at the door, but didn’t look back.
Yes, that’s right Julian, because of you I didn’t get to eat my late lunch.
She sighed, took off her sopping wet shirt, and sunk down into the water.

It felt good to rest her aching body in the water. Her eyes closed and visions of Julian shirtless singed her brain. And what visions they were. His intensity in all things caused him to have a sexy, smoldering demeanor that did funny things to her lady parts. Tingling lady parts aside, he also possessed a low amount of body fat. His chest and abs weren’t overly developed, but they’d been lean and trim and rock hard. She’d wanted to sink her teeth into that muscle and explore all of its facets—dips and valleys.

Bending her leg, her fingers skimmed down her calf to her ankle and traced where his fingers had been. His touched still burned her skin. She thought of his hands on her until the water turned cold and her body was frustrated, hungry, and aroused. What a combination.

Maura stood, wincing when she placed weight on her sore ankle, but then realized it was only stiff and no longer sore. She reached for a towel and wrapped herself in the plush softness. She delighted in the clean fresh scent. Life at the David estate was just about as good as it could get, with the exception of a broody sex god who was always lurking in the shadows. Or maybe it was the broody sex god that made living here so desirable.

Stepping from the warm bathroom to the plush carpet took much of the shock from her ankle and was a welcome sensation. Delicious smells penetrated the room, awakening her stomach muscles once again, and then she saw the food tray resting enticingly on the oversized leather ottoman. Rosa must have delivered it even though Maura was constantly telling her to not prepare food for her. Maura had enough to pay back—she didn’t have to eat their food too. Another bottle of Pancreas beer had made it onto the tray as well. She guessed Rosa was unaware that the beer in the fridge belonged solely to Julian.

One look at the plate had her mouth filling with saliva. Wrapping her hands around the sandwich was a struggle and it was an even bigger struggle to take a bite. French bread, crusty on the outside, soft inside, enveloped tender golden fried shrimp. The sauce on the bread encompassed the rich taste of mayonnaise, but was enhanced with added spices that afforded it a red tint and left a zing on her tongue. She was certain sauce was all over her face, but couldn’t be bothered to stop and wipe it. The sandwich was the best thing she’d ever put in her mouth and she’d forgotten all about getting dressed and instead sat and ate in nothing but a towel.

Her eyes closed and she took another huge bite. More sauce ended up on her face than in her mouth. “Mmm.” The sandwich was so good it had her seriously contemplating if it may even be better than an orgasm. A few more bites had her down to the last. She chewed with increased vigor, happy there wasn’t more because she surely would eat the sub until she burst open.

She dressed in a pair of knit pants and a tank top and then walked the tray and the unopened bottle of beer downstairs to the kitchen where she found Rosa attending to preparations for the evening’s dinner.

“Oh my God, Rosa! That sub was to die for. But I told you not to bother with food for me. You have enough to do already.”

Rosa took the tray from her and shook her head vigorously at Maura. “It wasn’t me.”

Maura froze in her task of returning Julian’s precious beer to the fridge. She pondered Rosa’s admission, dropping the beer bottle into the slot next to its fellow soldiers and shut the door. “It wasn’t you?”

“No ma’am. It was Julian.”

Julian had cooked for her? That didn’t seem likely. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. He was cleaning the dishes when I came in to prepare dinner.”

Walking back to her room she thought of Julian and how intense and even rude he could sometimes be. She’d liked him so much after the few easy and unassuming dates they’d had. He’d been reserved and cautious when they’d spoken and she sensed he’d tried to apply that same tactic when they’d kissed, but their desire had escalated rapidly and their bodies responded, leaving all thought in the dust and the kiss all consuming.

In retrospect she wished she’d never experienced his gentle and solicitous kindness, it would make it easier to ignore him now. At the end of the hallway she went left instead of right. The least she could do was thank him for going to trouble on her behalf.

Lilting notes of
Clair de Lune
streamed through an open door. She lightly knocked, “Julian?” She pushed the door open further and stepped in. The room was large, bigger than any bedroom she’d ever seen. Programs and images of dancers—ballerinas—men and women peppered the walls and shelves. Books on modern dance, along with British and American classics filled bookshelves and tabletops. She stared into a frame on his bedside table containing a photograph of him on stage performing some classic dance pose in full ballet dress. There were at least five pictures of him that she took in as she glanced around his bedroom. In all of them he was engaged in a ballet maneuver, his hands held gracefully in a perfect arc from his body.

He’d been a dancer
? She knew he worked at the family business with Parker. Hell, he was Bailey’s boss and she said he sort of ran the entire establishment since Mr. David had retired. Bailey said he was great with the factory workers and they’d do anything for him. He’d been a good boss to Bailey, still was.

“Julian?”

“Out here.”

His voice came as if through a wall. His room wrapped around in the shape of an L. The back wall was composed of four French doors and floor-to-ceiling windows on either side. It was a magnificent space. The doors were open and she stepped out onto a large columned balcony that encompassed the entire back of the house. All of the rooms at the back of the house must have doors that open out onto the terrace, she reasoned. The yard beyond held moss-covered trees with leaves that blew steadily in the wind and a large pond covered the land beyond the trees.

“Did you need something?”

She turned to find Julian rocking on an old wooden chair that reminded her of one they’d had in her childhood home. A swing hung from the eaves beyond that. Oh, how she’d love to have a moment to sit and rock, but then there was Julian . . . he currently scowled at her as though she were interrupting his otherwise peaceful nirvana. His throat cleared in a gesture that she interpreted as
get on with it.

“I just wanted . . . well I know it was you . . .” Shit, why did he make her so nervous? “I enjoyed the sub.”

“Of course you did, it’s delicious. And not a sub, but a po’boy.”

“Well whatever it’s called, it was the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten. Thank you.”

“Not sandwich, po’boy. Give it a try.”

“Po’boy.”

“There you go.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

She wrung her hands as he regarded her with bland indifference.

“So . . . thanks.” She eyed the swing, once more recalling Grandmama’s porch on the cool fall days in New York. She’d wrap herself in a crocheted blanket—the blanket her grandmama’s arthritic fingers had worked tirelessly to finish in time for her birthday—the blanket she’d lost when Alan had thrown it into the fireplace in one of his rages.

“Have a swing.”

Julian’s voice pulled her from her memories. “What?”

“You look so sad, like a child if a puppy were held just out of reach. If you want to swing, have a seat.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“You’re reading Sherman Devers?”

He nodded in affirmation. “I find his stories unfurl like a symphony, starting off slowly and then crescendoing to the finale. Ordinary modern life, yearning, love, and catastrophe transformed into art and beauty.”

She walked past him to the swing adjacent to his chair and sat. “Yes, absolute beauty in every stroke. I’m fond of his poems as well.”

“Oh yeah, what’s your favorite?”

“Afternoon Shadows.”

“Makes you realize true beauty can exist in love in the contemporary world if you are in the right mindset. I don’t know why but his writing helps me somehow.”

“Beauty in the poor and disgusting everyday life. We would all do well to draw on his skill.”

Julian cocked his head and regarded her with bemusement. They sat quietly looking out over the lawn, enjoying the light breeze and repetitive swinging motion. Eventually Julian went back to his book. Other than the rocking and the wind whispering through the trees all was quiet. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more at peace. Alan would never be able to get to her here. Perhaps that had something to do with the odd feeling of contentment that had settled over her. No matter their history, she knew Julian and his family wouldn’t let anything happen to her in their home and she reveled in the delightful feeling of security. Maura inhaled deeply. She didn’t want to give up on what their bodies had started. Julian had something bitter and dark festering inside that pushed her away, but when his boyish innocence was able to break free he could be so perfect.

Maura took a deep breath in preparation for bearing her soul. “I’m sorry if you felt misled. That was never my intention. I’ve been trying to escape the clutches of Alan Douglas since the day after I married him but his grip on me is almost impossible to escape. I divorced him. I left the only city I’d ever known, set out on my own in an attempt to get as far away from him as possible, but it wasn’t far enough. Every time I think I’m free of him his tentacles are always there to pull me back. I thought it would end with the divorce, but it’s only added fuel to the fire. He’s fond of games and he sees me as a pawn. Alan’s touch is far-reaching and extremely powerful. I have succeeded in diminishing his presence and I sincerely hoped he would lose interest and fade away. Obviously he didn’t. Again, I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Julian. I’d take back all the hurt if I could because your friendship meant the world to me.”

He didn’t look up from his book. In fact there was nothing to suggest he’d even heard what she’d said. “What are you so afraid of?”

He looked at her and huffed. “Everything.”

“
Those who are afraid to live by chance will see their souls die without dance
.” She softly quoted Devers.