Donna Hill - Deception

“You have a great place, Terri,” Clint commented, admiring the ethnic artwork and handcrafted sculpture. Huge earthen urns sat majestically in corners, overflowing with fresh-cut flowers in some and arrangements of silk in others.

“Thanks,” she called from the kitchen, quietly pleased that he liked her taste. “Would you light a fire, please?”

“Sure.” He walked to the fireplace and got the fire going. Finished, he roamed over to her bookcase and saw that she had volumes of poetry as well as what appeared to be every espionage and crime story ever written. What a strange combination, he thought, more fascinated than ever.

Terri entered the living room and placed the tray of snacks on the smoked-glass table.

“I see you’ve found out my secret,” she said, walking up behind him. “I’m a closet poet with a murderous streak.”

“The poet part I don’t mind,” he answered jovially, “it’s the other half that scares me. Actually, as quiet as it’s kept, I read a lot of poetry. It relaxes me. Especially after a rough day.”

Terri’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Really?”

“Let that be our little secret.” He lowered his voice to a pseudo-whisper. “I don’t want to ruin my dubious reputation.”

Terri replied in kind. “Your secret is safe with me. Just don’t cross me,” she teased. “Come on and sit down. After I’ve been slaving over a hot stove for hours, I want you to eat every drop.”

Clint chuckled as he followed her to the couch.

“…So when I discovered that the books didn’t jibe, it made me do some additional checking. To make a long story short, I don’t like what I found.” She was still reluctant to tell him too much. The last thing she needed was his sympathy or for him to think that she was totally incompetent. “I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, Clint. This company means everything to me. I’ve sacrificed a lot and I’ve given a lot. All I expect in return is honesty and a good day’s work.”

Could he dare tell her that he’d embarked on his own investigation? Good sense told him to hold off revealing his suspicions. He had to be absolutely positive, first. His years in business had honed his instincts. He was certain that something was amiss at her agency. Tentatively he put his arm around her. “What are you going to do now?”

“I have a few things in mind,” she said, enjoying the weight of his arm around her shoulders. But she wasn’t sure she should divulge her plan.

Clint moved a stray lock from her face and tucked it behind her ear, pleased with the silky quality of her hair.

She looked at him and felt her heart lurch.

With painful slowness, he lowered his head, his eyes holding hers. The flames from the fireplace appeared to dance in her eyes.

She knew her heart was going to explode into a million little pieces as his mouth slowly descended to meet her own.

The contact was incendiary, and Terri was certain that she heard fireworks erupt in the background.

The velvet warmth of his lips gently brushed over hers, taunting, tempting her with what was to come.

And it came.

The fire of his tongue played across her mouth as he spread his fingers through her twisted mane, pulling her completely against his hungry mouth.

Instinctively her lips parted and the tip of his tongue played teasing games, exploring her mouth, sending jolts of current surging through her.

He moaned against her lips, a deep carnal sound that vibrated to her center. Terri felt the heat race through her limbs as his fingers traced the pulse that pounded in her throat.

She wanted to scream when he pulled his mouth away from her lips, only to plant wet, hot kisses across her face, down her neck. Then he let his tongue play havoc in her ear, and every fiber of her body ignited.

“Clint…” She trembled against him.

A tingle of excitement ran through her as his hand trailed down the curve of her back, pulling her closer, caressing her, causing her body to arch, her rounded breasts to press against his chest, and he knew he would go out of his mind.

“I want you, Terri,” he groaned in her ear.

His mouth covered hers again, his tongue slashing against hers, demanding, urgent.

Her arms tightened around his hard muscular frame. She stroked the strong tendons of his neck, the outline of his chest. She felt as if she was falling, spinning weightless through space, and she never wanted the feeling to end. But she knew it had to stop. The door to her past was still ajar, and until she could empty it fully, no one else could enter.

His mind spun in a maelstrom of confusion. What was he doing? This was not part of the plan for his life. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, to want her from the depth of his being. His body ached to be a part of hers. But he couldn’t do this to her. She was sure to think that he was just trying to romance her in order to get her to agree to the deal. He wanted her to want him for the right reasons, or not at all.

As if reading each other’s minds, slowly they pulled away—each trying to control the shudders that ripped through them.

“I…I’m sorry.” He stroked her cheek. “I didn’t—”

“It’s okay, Clint,” Terri stuttered, breathless and in awe of what had almost taken place.

He gently pulled her into his embrace, fighting back the desires that wrestled to engulf him.

“I won’t rush you, Terri,” he whispered in a ragged breath. “As much as I may want to,” he added with a soft smile.

She touched his lips with her own. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Reluctantly he rose from the couch. “I’d better go.” He smiled mischievously down at her, mimicking an old Western movie. “I cain’t guarantee your honor, m’am, if’n I stay.”

Terri released a shaky laugh and stood up in front of him. She slipped her arms around his waist, looking up into his eyes.

“Then I’d say you’d better mosey on outta here, mister,” she teased, matching his parody.

He held her for a long moment, burying his face in her hair, his confusion complete. Then he released her.

“I’ll get your coat,” she offered.

At the doorway Terri felt ridiculously like a teenager on her first date. Her nerves rattled, and her heart was pounding so loud she just knew Clint could hear every beat.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.

“I’d like that.”

Clint leaned down and brushed her lips. The contact was too brief and he wanted more. Pulling her into his arms he kissed her fully, her own desire matching his every rhythm.

He eased away. “I’ve got to go,” he said, his voice thick with desire. He started to leave, then turned back. “You’ll be happy to know that I’ve found another advertising agency to do the work. So now there’s no more business to interfere.” His dark eyes bored into hers. “This is purely personal. The rest is up to you.” He turned away, never looking back to see the expression of astonished relief spread across her face.

As if on a cloud, Terri glided back into the living room, a smile of contentment lighting her face as she replayed his final words. This is purely personal.

She changed the CD, replacing Miles Davis with Kenny G. Crossing the living room, she walked down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. Mechanically she turned on the tub water, adding her favorite bubble bath. Soon the herbal aroma filled the room, and her weary body nearly screamed for relief. Piece by piece she stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the steamy water.

Terri sank into the tub, the bubbles coming up to her chin. She closed her eyes, letting the steam envelop her, and a picture of Clint sprang to life before her eyes—and she trembled.

His mouth seemed to caress every part of her body, kneading all of the aches away. A soft moan of remembrance filtered through her lips, and she silently wished that he was there with her.