Erotic Deception (4 page)

“Who-wee! Is that who you hit?” Mark glanced over again, taking note of the damaged Lexus. He shook his head, chuckling. “Celeste ain’t going to like this.”

Controlling his irritation, Jet corrected Mark on who hit who, ignoring his comment about Celeste.

“I wasn’t the cause of the accident, our little Lolita was.” But through his ire, Jet’s voice came out husky.

“She’s something else, isn’t she?”

“Nothing to lose your head over,” Jet dismissed…too casually.

“I guess not,” he said, but a knowing smile played around his mouth.

Jet sent a quiet warning, narrowing his eyes before releasing a hard breath.

“Just get the frickin’ camera,” he muttered.

Mark smirked before angling away to the Blazer.

Jet returned to Walter and Mike as they were finalizing the adjustments necessary to flip the patrol car upright.

“Almost ready?” he asked.

“A few more minutes. I wanna make sure she holds tight when we turn her,” Walter replied.

“Want me to take the pictures?” Mark joined them, camera in hand.

“I’ll do it,” Jet said.

The time it took was swift and when finished, Jet gestured toward the Lexus and the woman now leaning against it.

“I need you to play escort. Come on.”

Mark brightened, causing Jet to throw him a disgusted look before proceeding across the road.

* * * *

At their approach, Lily noted again the graceful panther coming toward her. No doubting the man’s amazing sex appeal. Too bad he had that whole personality problem. She quickly looked away and encountered a smiling man with brown eyes.

The sheriff’s deep voice made the introductions. “This is my deputy, Mark Carnahan.”

The younger man threw a sympathetic glance at her car and Lily warmed to his gesture.

“Mark, this is
Dr.
Lily Delaney.”

Ignoring the sardonic stress on the salutation, Lily stretched out her hand to have it engulfed in a firm friendly handshake.

“Doctor?” The deputy’s brows rose, shooting a glance at his boss’s injuries.

“Therapeutic, not medical,” her most recent nemesis mimicked before she could answer.

Lily curled her tongue to keep it quiet and focused on the shining, silver badge, eye-level to her own five feet seven.

“Are you going to arrest me?” Even though her tone still carried a hint of hostility, she hated the traces of fear behind it. She couldn’t help it, she was scared. But sitting in a jail cell waiting for a mad-man to appear was beyond comprehension.

Lily counted several heartbeats as she waited for what the sheriff would do. Finally, when she couldn’t stand it, she raised her head and encountered a speculative gleam in his eyes before an impenetrable mask slipped over his hard features. In a tone reminiscent of his earlier professionalism, he answered.

“No,” he said and at her surprise, added, “not today anyway. But I’m keeping your driver’s license. Give the lake-house address to my deputy. He’ll follow you and tell you how to get to the station. I want you there tomorrow afternoon where we’ll have a little conversation and I’ll decide then what I’m going to do with you.” She started to interrupt, but he held up a hand. “I’ll also wait until then to file any reports.” Then that mean voice returned. “But I warn you, if you try to leave beforehand, things will not go well for you. Do you understand?”

Relief vied with confusion, but exhaustion overcame all else and Lily gave into relief at the extra day to figure out another plan. She had no idea why he was giving her a reprieve and she didn’t want to ask in case he changed his mind. A day wasn't much, but she'd take it.

“You're not staying?” Mark asked.

The sheriff’s curt tone intruded into his deputy’s inquiry, again giving Lily no time to answer.

“After you've taken Dr. Delaney to her destination, you’ll need to come back here.”

Then the sheriff abruptly turned away and began taking pictures of Lily's car. She noticed that he only used one hand to work the camera. Even though it was small, it still looked like it took some effort.. Soon he was back and in a more agreeable tone, expanding on his previous instruction to his deputy.

“I'd rather not have to ride with Walter to the body shop so don't linger or take any side trips. I don’t think she’ll have any trouble driving her car, but keep an eye on it just in case.”

Lily compressed her lips as he walked away favoring one leg. In the midst of frustration, irritation, gratitude, and confusion, she’d set aside his injuries.

“Do you think he’s okay?” she asked Mark.

“Don’t worry, he’s tough.” Mark reassured. “Tell me where we’re going and you can follow me.”

Following behind the Blazer, Lily blew out a breath. She’d have to get her car fixed, but her brain was too tired to think about where. Nevertheless, compared to what it could’ve been, the damage was relatively minor. She also hated to admit the man she’d been sparring with had not only minimized the impact of the crash, he’d most likely saved her life. Temporarily anyway.

It only took a short time to reach the lake-house and Lily exited the car just as the deputy was stepping out of the Blazer.

“Do you need help with your luggage?”

The courteous gesture was genuine, but it was obvious the other man was anxious to get back to his boss. She was on the verge of declining the invitation when a sign posting at the edge of the driveway caught her attention. Her gaze shot to the deputy.

“What’s that sign marking for?”

Confusion knitted the deputy’s brows before alighting on the object she was pointing to.

“It’s a lot number. Each of the lake-homes has one.” He shrugged. “Yours is thirty-seven.”

Thirty-seven.

For a moment, Lily couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t remember Jerry mentioning this particular coincidence to her. Their mother had been thirty-seven when she died. Throughout the years, that same number had appeared many, many times around Jerry to the point of him feeling haunted by it. He’d even frequented a bar where the drink special was a thirty-seven ounce beer as opposed to a typical thirty-two ounce. The occurrence caused Jerry to begin believing it represented some type of meaning.

Shivers sashayed up and down Lily’s spine as she realized Jerry had died three days after his thirty-seventh birthday.

* * * *

Mark’s return with the Blazer was perfect timing to Walter and Mike’s loading the car onto the wrecker. Walter gave Jet a thumbs-up as he and his son drove off.

Mark’s lips tightened as he looked at Jet’s gray face. “I’ll drive. First stop, hospital.”

Jet wearily nodded, suppressing a groan as he climbed into the passenger side. He leaned his head against the seat back. Without the focus of the job, the throbbing from his injuries returned along with thoughts of his newest resident.

He might just as well have rolled over and asked her to scratch his belly.

She’d endangered lives, was disrespectful to an officer of the law and he’d fallen head first into her damsel in distress act.

Jet let out a heavy sigh. Mark was right about Celeste too. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of them reconciling, but it wouldn’t make any difference to Celeste. She’d see the other woman as a threat and would pay close attention to any interaction between him and her. One more headache he didn’t need.

It still mystified him as to why he offered to delay filing the report. If Dr. Delaney was afraid of this guy, wouldn’t she move on? Why should he get involved with her problems? He supposed old habits died hard and there was something about this situation he simply didn’t like. Tomorrow morning he was going to do his own research. Afterward, he’d have some very specific questions he was going to ask and he only hoped the answers he received would be honest.

After a quick trip to the local hospital and a couple of stitches later, Mark drove Jet to the station to pick up his personal truck. Before going home, Jet went in to check his messages and frowned at Denie still there.

“How bad were you hurt?” she asked, her short blonde covered head tilted and hands placed squarely on her hips.

Jet hid his irritation. With the exhaustion of the past few hours, he’d hoped to field explanations until the morning.

“What are you still doing here?” he grumbled, going into his office. He lowered his battered body stiffly into his chair.

“Your car was paraded down Main Street. It scared me so I waited for you.”

Behind the angry, blue eyes, Jet noted her concern and guilt tugged at his impatience.

Denie, along with running the office, was a close friend. A bit of a tomboy. Her mannerisms and consistent dress of jeans, tennis shoes, and buttoned-down oxfords heightened that impression. However; her tough attitude was a façade to the genuine caring beneath.

“I suppose you nagged our friends at the body shop to fill you in?” he asked.

“What they knew. What happened?”

Jet gave in with a brief synopsis.

“She’s staying here?” Denie scowled.

“Maybe. Regardless, she’s coming in tomorrow afternoon to fill out a report,” he stated. “Now go home. We’ll talk more later.”

Her reluctance was obvious, but she eventually turned to go with a curt goodnight. The slamming of the door spoke to what she didn’t say.

Jet closed his eyes. She could be a handful at times. Most times, it didn’t bother him, but he wouldn’t put it past her to call Celeste. Along with being a close friend of his, Denie’s relationship with his ex-wife went back to elementary school days. It wouldn’t matter that Celeste was out of town, she was still accessible by phone. He didn’t need that call tonight.

Jet leaned back and flexed the white gauze covering his hand. It throbbed more than anticipated and he supposed he should’ve accepted the mild painkiller suggested at the hospital. Now he was regretting that decision. If he wanted to sleep at all tonight, he’d need something.

Locking up, he made the quick drive to the convenience store. He opened the door and wasn’t surprised to be the only customer at this hour.

“Hey, Patrick,” Jet greeted the cashier, a part-time high school kid.

The bell from the door along with Jet’s greeting had Patrick guiltily hiding the magazine he’d been reading. At identifying Jet, his eyes grew wide.

“Golly, Sheriff, I saw your car go by earlier on the wrecker. Did you get hurt bad?” he asked, taking in Jet’s torn uniform and bandaged hand.

Jet went down the grocery aisle to the aspirin section. He intended disputing the claim of a bad injury when the bell chimed again. His gaze narrowed at who walked through the door. Patrick’s mouth dropped open.

“Evening,” The doctor nodded to Patrick, obviously not noticing Jet as she made her way to the refrigerated section.

Tight, ragged jeans with a hole in the back pocket molded her hips. Firm rounded breasts stretched a short faded mint green t-shirt. Flip-flops drummed the floor drawing Jet’s attention to dainty feet. The overall look should’ve been shabby and sloppy. Not on her. She wore sexy as if it were a given right. Her long golden mane tied high on her head flopped shoulder to shoulder like a little girls. Once again, innocence mocked the lusty appeal.

The doorbell chimed again to admit two more people. Jet frowned at the men.
Looks like the night’s picking up.
An inner alert went off when they also headed toward the refrigerated section. It was too much to hope they’d grab what they’d come for and leave. As suspected, they stopped directly behind the woman contemplating cheese and eggs. Jet let out a quiet groan.

“Now what do you suppose we have here, Skeet?”

The guy who spoke appeared to have been in the sun all day. That, along with shorts and t-shirt suggested he was one of the visiting lake-goers. He was a husky man with dirty blonde hair, his girth most likely from the amount of beer he imbibed. His friend Skeet was dressed in a similar manner, but built more solid.

“Well, it looks as if this little lady needs help deciding on what she wants,” Skeet responded, causing the other man to snicker.

“I know what she wants,” he jeered, lewdly grabbing the front of his shorts.

Jet willed her to ignore them and walk away.

Of course, she didn’t. Instead, the minx turned and tilted that little nose up.

“Why don’t you fellas go bother someone else? I’m not interested.”

She resumed her study of the contents inside the refrigerated display glass.

The men looked at each other and smiled. The one referred to as Skeet inched up closer. She spun around and shoved at his chest.

“Get lost!” she snapped and held up a set of keys with a can of mace attached.

Jet rolled his eyes. Like that would do any good.

The other man with Skeet chuckled. “Well what do you know; we got ourselves a feisty one.”

* * * *

Lily clenched her teeth in irritation. She was tired, irritable and in an overall bad mood. They didn’t scare her, but their snickers revealed their ignorance of a woman capable of defending herself these days. Puberty had marked her first self-defense course. She was on the verge of delivering a blistering lecture about manners and insecure men when a painfully familiar voice spoke.