Deceive Her With Desire (8 page)

Jameson laughed. “
Touché
, Schaeffer. Nice volley. Sit. Let’s talk. I have a feeling we’ll make great business partners.”

The knot in Ayden’s stomach released its grip. He’d cleared the first hurdle.

* * * *

Deirdre’s frustration mounted as she maneuvered her hands around the engine. She’d be damned if she’d let the ancient piece of equipment win this battle. “Hand me the three-quarter-inch ratchet.” She held her hand out to Mark. Like a precision surgical team, they were working on the motor of the wood chipper that had coughed its last billow of smoke and died.

She’d tinkered with the motor in the driveway until she realized it would take more than a swift kick to the drive train to get it started again. Deirdre had finally relented, sending Rachel and the students to work on the gardens and backed the rusty old piece of crap into Jameson’s huge garage. Of course, she had to move out of the way for the two vehicles squealing their way off the property. Stupid, rich idiots always thought they had the right of way.

She’d stared at the Jag still parked in the dooryard, attempting not to think about Austin or why he was here. But truthfully, thoughts of him were the only thing churning her brain and making it hard for her to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Deirdre, I thought I saw you come in here.”

The sound of Shawn’s voice echoing through the stillness startled her. She jumped, coming up hard on the flange of the chipper.

“Shit.” She had the grace to blush as she turned and saw Austin standing next to Shawn. His presence was like a swift kick to her gut, which was stupid since she was the one who had walked out on him two nights ago. “Shawn. Hope you don’t mind. You said we could store our equipment in the garage.” Her words came out in a staccato burst of noise. “We have a small maintenance issue with the wood chipper, and I needed to park it in here to fix it.”

Both men’s gazes slid down the length of her body, blazing a hot trail. Their eyes settled momentarily on her heaving chest before lifting back to her face. She felt very exposed. How stupid of her not to throw her T-shirt back on over the damp tank top. But then modesty hadn’t been foremost on her mind as she’d stuck her head in the infernal engine.

“Not a problem.
You all right?”
Stepping forward, Shawn’s fingers replaced hers, rubbing through her hair. “Oh, you already have a lump. Let me get you some ice.”

She moved away from him. He’d actually found the spot where she’d hit her head on Saturday. “No, I’m fine.
Happens all the time.”
Her gaze skittered to Austin, then back at Shawn.

“Oh, forgive me. Austin Schaeffer, my business associate,
meet
Deirdre Tilling, landscaper extraordinaire and…” He stretched his hand out to Mark.

“Mark Pearson,” she said, heat filling her cheeks again. She’d forgotten Mark was even there. “Mark Pearson is the coordinator for the Kids at Risk curriculum at Delmont High School. The three young men you’ve seen working with us today are in his program.”

She had never known Mark to be intimidated by anyone, but he stepped forward with an awkward hesitancy and a tremulous smile as they all shook hands.

“I just walked with Austin down the length of the driveway. The trees are really shaping up. I didn’t realize how badly they needed work until I saw what an artist you were with that chainsaw. I’ve been watching you climbing all morning,” Shawn said as he flashed a killer smile. “It’s amazing the way you move. I have to admit, my heart was in my throat as you jumped through the limbs with all that heavy equipment. You’re not afraid?”

“Not much scares this one.” Mark wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her possessively against his side. “She’s been through a lot and come out stronger for it.
One of my few success stories.”
He bumped his fist on her chin.

Whoa.
There was way too much testosterone filling the air.

What was it about a woman’s presence that switched men into a competitive mode? She was getting attention from everyone but the one man who mattered most to her, Austin.

“If Mark can handle this
on his own,
perhaps Deirdre, you could show us your plans for the property?” Shawn asked.

“Actually, Jameson, I think we’ve concluded our business for today.” Austin checked his watch. “And as much as I’d like to see the rest of your beautiful estate, I have another meeting.” He kept his eyes on Shawn unwilling to meet her confused gaze. “We’ll set something up for later in the week.”

The men shook hands, her heart pinching when Austin acknowledged her and Mark with nothing more than a cursory nod. “Nice to meet you both,” he said before turning and walking back to the Jag, the door’s heavy bang snapping her out of her bewildered stupor.

No doubt she deserved Austin’s arctic disregard. After all, she’d been the one who’d officially declared it a one-night stand by slinking away in the dead of night. Still, Austin’s apathy stung.

Ignoring the pang in her chest, Deirdre forced a smile. “I’d love to show you what we’ve been up today, Shawn.”

Chapter 6

Ayden
downshifted
his weathered Saab, taking the curve of the coastal road with the tires squealing. He really wished he had the Jag, but he hadn’t wanted to be followed to the command post. He’d left the DEA rental at the condo, snuck out the backdoor and
hightailed
it through three yards before reaching his Saab parked at the twenty-four hour 7-Eleven.

He checked the rearview mirror. Only twisting road and autumn foliage met his gaze. He could only hope he hadn’t missed anything over the last twenty miles.

Ayden had worked up a full head of steam and wasn’t thinking straight. Not a good situation for a DEA agent, especially one undercover.

He double clutched throwing the Saab into overdrive and careening around another tight corner. Ayden wasn’t sure what was pissing him off more, the fact that he’d gotten what he wanted—or the fact that he hadn’t.

Deirdre had been everything he’d hoped for on Saturday night, an easy mark and a good lay. No, make that a compassionate and sexy woman with spunk. Seeing her today had thrown him. The woman had made it perfectly clear by her actions that she didn’t want anything more than the several hours they’d spent together in his bed. And wasn’t that just a hit to his ego?

He pounded his fist on the steering wheel.
Damn
. When he’d taken her to the condo, all he’d wanted was to loosen her tongue with alcohol, ply her for information on Jameson and screw her brains out.

Instead, Deirdre had stunned him with the personal revelation about her father, and later after he’d taken her to his bed and completely rocked his world, she’d snuggled in his arms telling him about her broken relationship. That night he’d wanted nothing more than to choke the living shit out of the guy who put all that hurt in those soulful brown eyes.

Those eyes that glazed over just before Deirdre…frig, he couldn’t go there.

Why was he so pissed off she’d run away into the night? Wasn’t it exactly what he’d wanted? He wasn’t sure why he wanted to prove to her not all men were lecherous, cheating cads. Or why it seemed to be bothering him now, that in reality, he wasn’t any better than the guy who walked out on Deirdre two months ago.

He’d convinced himself everything was fine, right up until he found that damn lacey thong tangled in the bed sheets yesterday morning. They’d smelled of her, a heady bouquet of flowers mixed with the musky scent of her sex.

Even as he’d sat around with Ryan and Dave, planning out how they’d handle their meeting today and blindly watching the Sunday football games on the tube, all he could think about was sliding the lacey piece of material over Deirdre’s cute ass and down those long, muscular legs. It didn’t take much to conjure up her body, soft and warm, twisting under him.

Then today, when his head was completely in the game, endorphins sparking through his system from the undercover job he was doing, she’d materialized in the garage. His fantasy in the flesh had looked sexy as hell in the drab green cargo pants, heavy work boots and the damp tank top clinging to her tits.

Deirdre had told him she was Jameson’s employee and he’d immediately thought
bedmate
not landscaper.

He’d been too stunned at finding her in the garage to switch gears and chose ignoring her over making a foolish mistake by admitting to Jameson they knew each other—intimately.

But then, the woman had run out on him.

So why had it surprised him when she’d preened like a cat in heat and batted those long, sooty lashes at Jameson? And what was up with the old geezer in the garage groping her like he owned her?

Didn’t really matter anyway.
He was such a dumb-ass for not hitting the right mark on Saturday. He should have found the blonde bimbo who might have unknowingly shed some light on Jameson’s drug cartel, not the landscaper who’d probably gotten nothing more than a polite invitation to the house-warming party. No doubt the blonde wouldn’t have gotten under his skin and made it impossible for him to stop thinking of her.

But Deirdre had done just that.

“Well, Ayden,
ol
’ boy, get the right head back in the game. You’ve got a job to do.”

Mentally he switched gears, even as he
downshifted
the Saab, taking another curve at a reckless speed. He needed to cull the cobwebs of Deirdre from his brain. The woman had rejected him, big deal. His team had a lot of work ahead of them and he needed to focus. He shifted gears again, feeling the power of the vehicle as it chewed up the miles, but it was nothing compared to the smooth handling of the Jag. Maybe he’d buy himself a Jag some day. Yeah, and maybe some gorgeous redhead would show up on his doorstep, screw him senseless and bull’s-eye an arrow straight through his heart again. Right, like that would happen again.

Two hours later a dozen men on his teams were dragging ass out of the office space over the convenience store. The
pow
-wow with the head honchos definitely had not gone well.

Despite the new
intel
Ayden had provided on Jameson, the conference call with his superiors in Boston hadn’t been filled with high-fives and back slapping.
Quite the opposite in fact.
They were still grumbling about pulling him from the operation and bringing someone else in to complete the bust. Ayden suspected it would be that way for the rest of the week, and didn’t that just suck?

It was hard enough collecting solid evidence, organizing the sting and keeping his men safe
without
having to juggle his bosses’ trepidation and doubts. But he needed this one to go right too damned much to hand the reins over to someone else. He’d take their shit and bring down the drug cartel here in Maine, even if it killed him.

 
Ayden looked over the map of Cutler and its surrounding towns riddled with a half dozen colored thumbtacks and dozens of numbered flags. He mentally checked once again the positioning and jobs of his four teams for the operation. Granted, Jameson hadn’t been a fountain of information back at the estate earlier in the afternoon, but when he’d told Ayden he was expecting a shipment of heroin on Sunday night and that he’d be happy to have him in on the action, Ayden had felt another piece of the puzzle drop into place.

Though the debonair business man had been purposefully vague about the how or where, Ayden was sure it wasn’t because Jameson didn’t know the information. No way in hell the asshole was being manipulated by someone higher up. He was the squeaky clean man with the financial backing and power to be pulling the strings.
The guy that in the past—had always gotten away.

Well, not this time. Jameson was their guy all right. The way Ayden was popping antacids to cool the fire in his gut told him he was right on track and to trust his instincts.

But DEA stings didn’t operate on gut feelings. They required cold, hard facts, backed up by more credible facts and solidified by even more substantial facts. Only facts turned a conviction into jail time. And getting drug-dealing swine off the streets was Ayden’s primary mission.

The keys on the computers behind him clicked as recording equipment whirred. Harriman and Jones were the only two left and they’d be here until the men relieving them showed up in six hours for the midnight shift. Both men were intently listening in on the phone and wire taps at Jameson’s estate.

Everything there was still working and that just sent Ayden’s ulcer into overdrive. Seemed stupid to think he wanted them to find the sensitive equipment, but something about it just wasn’t sitting right with him. Ayden flipped two more antacids into his mouth from the pack he kept in his pocket and studied the surveillance photos again.

Grainy photos of guys making deals on the street littered the board. He knew a high number of the two-bit players, but the only one Ayden cared about was the man at the heart of the operation pumping heroin into the streets of Maine and right into the hands of the teenagers. Drug addiction on the Maine coast was rampant. Shutting down the street thugs wouldn’t stop everything, but apprehending Jameson, the greedy asshole looking to expand his drug cartel, would certainly staunch the flow.

Until Jameson gave them more information on the how and where, Ayden had set up contingency plans. He had teams ready to go at a small airstrip in Wesley, just outside Cutler. But Ayden didn’t think they were going to fly the drugs in, not with the mansion sitting pretty right next to the ocean. More likely, they’d route the heroin shipment from South America, through Canada and bring it into Maine by boat. He was banking on that.