Deceive Her With Desire (3 page)

“Get it, Austin, a
rain
check?”

After so many weeks, the undercover name was as familiar to Ayden as the stranger who stared at him in the mirror.

Ayden laughed again, having no idea what the man was referencing. Two of the guys standing in their intimate group of four, Ryan and Dave, were on loan from the Portland PD. Nearly two hundred thirty miles out of their district, Ayden figured they wouldn’t be recognized this far from home. The third was one of the local distributors and, he hoped, his best bet for infiltrating the drug market in this part of the state.

“So, the guy who threw this shindig around tonight?”
Ryan tried to keep the words casual, but the pitch of his voice, combined with his rubbernecking, made him appear more desperate than curious.

Ayden draped an arm over the cop’s shoulder. “Lance, my friend…” They all had fake identities. “Obviously, tonight is about letting go. Enjoy the hospitality, cull someone out of this bevy of beauties and have some fun.” He swept his hand holding the highball glass in a wide arc. “Relax, my man.” Ayden slapped him hard on the shoulder. His casual tone contradicted the uneasy furrow of his brow and his strained smile, hoping the guy got the message.

The kid was green. Ayden knew it. Ryan and Dave were working their way to detective positions within the PPD, but neither of them had done undercover work prior to this assignment. Ayden had tried to find more experienced cops, but Portland was a big city of nearly seventy-three thousand people and had its own drug problem to contend with. So he’d been left grooming the two eager cops who were hoping to make a big bust.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” The throaty voice originated from behind Ayden.

Even at his height of six-two, Ayden had to tip his head up to look into the man’s coal black eyes. Dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, the guy oozed confidence. The sleeves of the gray linen sports jacket were pushed up, revealing sinewy forearms and well-manicured nails. Ayden knew immediately who the guy was.

“Mr. Jameson.
Er
…” The joke teller set his beer on the bar, pulling himself up. “I didn’t see you coming.” He wiped his sweaty palms down his jeans. “You asked me to invite a
coupla
’ guys I knew
was
interested in doing business with you. This is Lance, Don, and Austin.” He pointed to each man as he said their names. Handshakes went all around. “Nice party as always, sir.”

“Thanks, Robert.” Jameson laid his large hand on the quivering man’s shoulder. “Glad you could make it. I saw Lisa inside. Why don’t you see if you can’t convince her to take a stroll to the second floor with you? Take advantage of some of the more
private
partying.
Hmm?”

“That’s nice of you, sir. I’d like that.” Understanding he’d been excused, Rob’s head bobbed as he retreated.

“I’ll take my usual.” Jameson leaned an elbow against the bar, crossing his feet at the ankles, his expensive loafers worn without socks.

The bartender mutely went through the motions of making a drink, handing Jameson a tall glass filled with ice, a wedge of lemon and bubbling clear liquid. From the physical condition of the man, Ayden surmised it was probably nothing stronger than club soda. This guy was serious about business if he didn’t indulge at his own party.

“Gentlemen, it is a lovely night.” Jameson sipped at the drink, looking everywhere but at the faces of the three men before him. “Robert’s told me about your interests. I’m intrigued. But as Austin so eloquently put it, tonight is for pleasure, not business.” His lips twisted in a reptilian smile, his head tipping slightly as he spoke. A voluptuous blonde appeared out of the crowd and rubbed against Jameson like a cat in heat. “Come back to the house on Monday, precisely at two. We can talk about our mutual business interests then.” He leaned over and whispered something to the bimbo, who giggled and hurried away.

“Until then, enjoy my home and everything I offer my guests. Cheers.” He lifted his glass in the air, and the four of them clinked bottles and glasses.

“Cheers.”

And with that, Jameson strode away from them. Dave released the air in his lungs. Ryan gulped down the beer in his shaky hand. Ayden looked over at both men, unable to contain his amusement. Chuckling, he smiled at them, but his eyes were mere slits, warning them to remain silent. “Now, if you don’t mind. I’m heading out and going to do what Jameson suggested…enjoy the rest of the night. You two need to do the same.”

He strolled toward the house, knowing his cop friends would scout the mansion before heading back to their apartments. But despite what he’d told Dave and Ryan, Ayden had no intention of walking away from Jameson now that he’d met the guy. A little surreptitious reconnaissance while the man was otherwise preoccupied could go a long way. Of course, Jameson was probably too classy to do his drugs or woman in public. But on a night like tonight, with all the people as cover, who knew what the man would do?

Ayden veered to the front of the mansion along the walk, hearing the low moans of pleasure emanating from behind the shrubbery.
Lucky bastard
.
Due to the demands of his job, it had been a while since he’d seen any action. But tonight wasn’t about his personal needs. Ayden tuned out the happy couple and forced himself to focus on his goals rather than his needy libido.

He turned to his right, taking the front steps two at a time. The bruiser brothers were no longer at the door, and Ayden walked into the front foyer. The revelers’ drunken voices competed with the music pounding out of the speakers in the great room to his left. After the fresh scent of the ocean breeze, it took a moment for Ayden’s lungs to adjust to the heavy air rife with smoke, perfume and the scent of bodies in heat.

He watched men guiding giddy woman up the stairs to his right. Ayden knew exactly what Jameson had meant when he told Rob to enjoy the privacy of the second floor. His gut told him he should bypass that little den of iniquity until he’d scoped out the rest of the mansion. There were too many drugged-out, naked females in that direction,
who
would be all too happy to steer him away from his main objective.

Getting involved with a woman, even for a quick bit of fun, was a very bad idea. Too many times they just screwed with a man’s logic. Of course, it was hard to think when all the blood from your brain was pooled between your thighs.

Focus on Jameson—not the sex.

Chapter 3

Deirdre’s head buzzed pleasantly from the heat and champagne. The beat coming out of the speaker she danced on throbbed straight through her bare feet to her tingling sex. Her arms swayed above her head in time with the pounding rock music. She smiled knowingly down at Emilio and Rachel dancing on the floor near the amplifier. All of them had spent the last couple of hours cruising for someone Deirdre could take home and the woman currently molded to her back certainly had Deirdre’s senses on high alert.

The sexy brunette rubbed her palms along Deirdre’s thighs. Reaching behind her, Deirdre caressed the luscious curves of the woman’s ass, pulling her tight against her body. Her dance partner returned the favor, breathing seductively in her ear, her hot tongue laving Deirdre’s neck.

Deirdre rotated, rubbing her breasts against the woman. Their gazes locked, and Deirdre could see the heated passion in the brunette’s eyes.
Oh, this one.
She lowered her hands into the woman’s hair as their bodies pulsed in time with the music. The insides of her thighs dampened with want. Deirdre leaned in to kiss those juicy, pouting lips, but the woman turned at the last moment, nipping at Deirdre’s shoulder. The brunette threw back her head with giddy laughter, shimmying her body down Deirdre and up again. The last notes vibrated off the guitar, and the crowd went wild.

“You want to go somewhere more private?” Deirdre asked, leaning in close to the beautiful woman’s ear as the last few beats of the song pounded through the speakers. Her fingers danced a path up the brunette’s torso.

“Oh, honey, you’re not my type. I dance like that to make my guy hot.”

Just then, a sandy-haired man grabbed the woman by the waist, swinging her gracefully to the floor. “
That
was incredible. You sure she can’t join us?” He looked up at Deirdre, lust clouding his hooded eyes.

“Sugar, you know that’s not what I agreed to.” The brunette tapped his nose with her long, red nail bringing his rapt attention back to her. She flipped her hair, before turning back to Deirdre. “Sorry, sweetie, he’s all mine. But thanks for playing along.” She mashed her mouth against his as she dragged him back into the crowd.

Her words knocked the air out of Deirdre’s lungs.

“Oh, don’t go, ladies, the crowd was enjoying the show.”

Deirdre barely controlled the urge to flip the lead singer the bird. The woman’s rejection wasn’t his fault, but the heat of embarrassment pissed her off and she’d like to take it out on someone. Needing to lose herself in the anonymity of the crowd, she bent and put her hand on top of the speaker, gracefully swinging her bare feet to the floor. Emilio gathered her in his arms, kissing her full on the lips, helping to ease the sting of humiliation.

The raucous crowd in the great room continued their clapping and catcalls straight through the first verse of the next song. Two other women jumped up on the amp and began gyrating to the music, pulling attention away from her.

Emilio’s forehead pressed against hers. “Hey, forget about her.”

“Thanks, friend.”

He
pulsed
his hips, making her sway with him to the rhythm of the music. Rachel sandwiched her from behind. They were such good friends, always there to protect her.

“Let’s get more champagne and keep rocking,” Rachel yelled into her ear over the drumbeat and rowdy vocals of the band.

Deirdre slipped out from between them. “I’m just going to take a walk. I need some air.”

“Your hair?
It’s
fine,” Rachel yelled as she smoothed her palm over Deirdre’s wayward curls.

“
Air
.
I need air.” Deirdre fanned her face and used two fingers to scissor back and forth.

“Oh, we’ll come too.” Rachel put her hand on Emilio’s shoulder and motioned for the door, but Deirdre stopped them. After much pantomiming, she convinced them to stay and dance. She however, needed to get away from the cloying crowd. Deirdre retrieved her black stilettos from the floor next to the speaker and jostled her way through the pulsing crowd of revelers.

Ignoring the hands groping her ass and breasts, she pushed her way to the front door. Finally reaching the cool air of the front porch, she filled her lungs with the tangy ocean air. The porch was blessedly empty and she walked the length of it, grateful for a moment of solitude. Slipping her feet back into the heels, Deirdre tried to figure out if she was too drunk to drive the forty miles home or if she should sleep an hour or two in her car.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Damn, she should have thought of that before she started downing champagne like water.

“Nice night.”

The masculine voice startled a cry of surprise from her.

She turned to find a dark-haired man leaning against the corner of the house, the light slanting through the window beside him barely separating him from the shadows. One foot was leisurely tucked up on the wall behind him, his large hands wrapped casually around a glass. Despite the casual posture, there was an air of danger about the man. Perhaps it was the way he hid himself or the barely contained energy pulsing off him, but he seemed coiled and ready to pounce on something— or someone.

“My sincere apologies, I thought you saw me.” He
laughed,
a deep rumble that washed a chill down her spine. “My name’s Shawn Jameson.” He paused as if she should recognize him, shrugged and held the glass out to her. “You look like you could use a drink.
Perrier?”

Sweat beaded on the tumbler and Deirdre realized just how dry her mouth was and how her throat still burned with the heat of humiliation. But she didn’t know this man, accepting a drink from a stranger in this day and age was never a good idea and she shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

He smiled and, as if reading her mind, sipped from his glass. “It’s not drugged, if that’s what you’re thinking. I would never do that to a woman.” Another low roll of laughter rose from his throat, but it held no humor. “I just thought after the dancing, you needed it.” He tilted his head at the window, where she could see the band, their amplifiers and the dancers enjoying the party in the great room.

“Please I don’t like to drink alone. Let me get you something.” His voice was hypnotizing, low and whiskey rich.

“No, please.” She put her hand up to stop him from going inside. “I hate to bother you. Besides, I was just thinking of heading out.”

“Very well, may I offer you mine again?”

She did need the drink, not because of the exercise, but to cool the raw heat of the rejection. Deirdre took the glass and nearly drank it all, before stopping short and offering it back to him.

He shook his head and waved her off, pushing away from the wall to stand in front of her. “You need it more than me.” His hooded gaze did a slow slide from her eyes to her mouth to her cleavage and back again. When his eyes met hers they held no apology for the obvious appraisal.