Forever Hidden (Forever Bluegrass #2) (7 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sydney wiped the sweat from her face and looked down at the sixth hole she’d dug in the backyard. Nothing. She couldn’t find an old well and now she had about fourteen more oak trees to go. It had been hours since Deacon fled. It irritated her that he knew so much about her, and she really hadn’t learned that much about him. Okay, she was really more irritated by the fact that she wanted to know him better . . . in more ways than one. That darn dream had messed with her all day. When he was sitting next to her, she could think of nothing but the dream. But to have him run away like that? She’d never had a man run from her before.

Sydney let the shovel fall to the ground and sat cross-legged on the cold grass, pulling out her cell phone. She was going to do the one thing she’d sworn off years ago. She was going to look Deacon McKnight up online.

She typed in his name and waited as the screen filled with articles and pictures.
Atlanta PI solves cold case. Atlanta PI finds missing boy. Atlanta playboy attends debutante ball
. What? Sydney pulled up that article to find a picture of a devastatingly sexy younger Deacon in a tux, dancing with a woman in a massive white gown. She scanned the article and froze.
New Vice President of McKnight Investments Deacon McKnight dances with heiress Isabella Grafton
.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he had enough money to cover the case. She knew his father, Walter McKnight. He had met her when she was in Atlanta for a charity event a couple years ago. Funny, he never mentioned having a son. He did mention wanting to invest her money, though.

It appeared from the articles that Deacon left his father’s firm on his twenty-fifth birthday and started his own private investigation firm the same day. Since then, there were no more pictures of debutantes or mentions of him with his father. Well, at least Sydney knew he wasn’t here to try to invest her money.

He seemed charitable. His name and picture were always in the society section for the Drake Charles and Elle Simpson-Charles Charity Ball funding the children’s hospital each year. It seemed Deacon was as genuine as he appeared to be in person. Damn. That made Sydney want him even more.

She heard a car coming up the drive, stood up, and walked around to the front of the house in time to see Deacon pull into the garage. She wanted Deacon McKnight, and Sydney wasn’t one to give up. She was going to get to know him better to find out if her feelings were lust or something more.

Deacon strode into the kitchen and looked out the windows into the backyard. He set the copies of the mall’s security DVDs onto the granite island and stared in appreciation as Sydney bent over and scooped dirt out of another hole. The sky had turned gray and now a gentle sprinkle started to fall. Deacon put on water for a cup of tea for Sydney, but when the back door didn’t open, he looked back outside.

Deacon’s fingers tightened on the edge of the counter as his erection pressed painfully against his jeans. Sydney’s damp, long-sleeved, white thermal shirt clung to every curve of her rounded breasts. She stuck the shovel in the ground and raised her hands above her head to stretch. Deacon felt his mouth go dry as her breasts thrust forward.

He didn’t even notice when the clouds darkened further and the rain began in earnest. He was glued to the window as Sydney wiped her hands across her flat stomach before picking up the shovel again. Pieces of her wet hair clung to her cheeks as she turned to dig again. On a baser level, Deacon knew he should tell her to come inside. He could tell she was freezing out there. But another instinct riveted his eyes to the pebbled nipples begging to be warmed by his mouth.

When a clap of thunder shook the house, Sydney jumped. She dropped the shovel as rain pelted down. She wiped her hair from her forehead and looked surprised at seeing Deacon in the window. Damn. He’d been caught staring. At least she couldn’t see anything below the kitchen counter. She started to head to the kitchen when suddenly her foot slid out from under her. Her arms pinwheeled, and before Deacon could move, Sydney fell forward on the wet ground.

Deacon darted for the door but froze as he came sliding to a halt in the yard. Sydney’s face and upper body had fallen into the mud from her sixth hole. As she peeled herself up, Deacon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Her face, her hair, and her shirt were caked in mud.

“Let me help you!” Deacon yelled over the rain.

Sydney didn’t say a word; she just shook her head as she slowly stood up.

“You’d make a great mud wrestler,” Deacon teased as he held out his hand to her.

“You’re laughing?” Sydney questioned. “I’m covered in mud!”

Deacon laughed again but then grunted as she yanked his arm. His foot couldn’t gain traction on the wet ground, and in a flash, he was on the ground. Sydney stood over him, her white teeth flashing through the mud. He looked to see what she was smiling about when the clump of mud landed on top of his head.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Deacon warned. In answer, Sydney tossed a mudball at his face. He used his hands to wipe his cheek. “I warned you.”

Sydney squealed as he reached forward and grabbed her around the waist. He turned, falling back toward the mud and taking her with him. Mud flew, his deep laugh mixed with her higher-pitched shrieks, and one of American’s most powerful businesswomen smeared mud all down his chest before trying to leap away.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Deacon taunted as he dodged another mudball. They were both covered in gunk from head to toe. Only their eyes and wide smiles were visible. Sydney wiped a muddy sleeve against her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

Deacon similarly wiped his mouth and grinned. He pretended to look away, and when Sydney bent to scoop up some more ammunition, Deacon dove at her. Sydney only had time to let out a surprised squeak before Deacon dragged her down into the mud with him. They laughed as he rolled her into the mud. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. He stopped laughing as he realized he was very intimately lying on top of her. She seemed to notice at the same time.

Deacon used one hand to cup her cheek. He couldn’t tear his eyes from her lips. He felt her breathing hitch as he bent his head toward hers. One of her hands ran down his back while the other grasped the bicep of the arm he was propping himself up with. And when his lips met hers, the earth shook. The cold disappeared as heat flooded his body. Her fingers tightened on his arm as her mouth opened to his. His tongue plunged in and Sydney moaned as she arched against his shaft. They were electric together. Light burst around them, and Deacon was brought crashing back to reality.

“Shit. We have to get inside. That was lightning.” Deacon leapt up and helped Sydney from the ground. As they ran hand in hand toward the house, Deacon cursed himself. He’d done exactly what he swore he wouldn’t do. He wasn’t any better than any of the others, and if there was one thing he wanted, it was to make her feel like the most cherished woman in the world. He couldn’t do that while he was grinding against her like a teenager.

He pushed open the door to the mudroom, and they tumbled inside. Mud and water pooled on the tile as they stood dripping. Deacon opened the washing machine and slid out of his shoes.

“We can toss our clothes directly into the wash. There are towels right over there.”

Sydney turned to grab the towels. Her mind was in shock. Never had a kiss been so powerful. It was supernatural the way the heat had flooded her body. She was astonished by her desire for a man she’d just met. The thought of them in a shower washing the mud off so they could pick up where they left off made her blush.

But when she turned to hand Deacon a towel, he was standing with his back to her. His shirt and pants were off, and she admired the view of him in his boxer briefs. Everything about Deacon McKnight screamed male.

“Here you go,” she smiled as she held out the towel. Deacon only turned at his shoulders and grabbed the towel. In a flash, he had it around his waist. He slid off his boxer briefs and tossed them in the wash without giving her so much as a peek at what was underneath.

“I’m going to take my shower and order dinner. I’ll let you change in privacy.”

And then he was gone . . . again.

“What the hell?” Sydney mumbled to herself as she stripped out of her muddy clothes and turned on the wash. Baffled, Syd headed upstairs. She stopped in front of Deacon’s room and stared at the closed door. Behind it, she could hear the shower running.

“You’ve never taken a chance, Syd. Come on,” she told herself as she reached for the doorknob. She turned it, but then couldn’t move it anymore. It was locked.

She stood staring at the locked door. No man had ever locked her out. She hung her head and walked to her room, grateful he didn’t see the knob turn. It appeared Deacon was ultimately uninterested.

Sydney turned on her shower and stepped inside. No. She knew he was interested. She felt Deacon’s interest pushing eagerly against her not ten minutes ago. He’d said there was no wife, but he didn’t say there wasn’t a girlfriend. Maybe that was it. Well, one way or another, she was going to find out more about Deacon. She wouldn’t make a move until she was sure he was the loyal, kind, and totally available man she thought he was.

*     *     *

Deacon’s cold shower didn’t do the trick. He’d even taken himself in hand and that didn’t do it either. It was the fault of the woman who’d been dancing around the kitchen in her flannel pajamas. The feel of Sydney lying under him was something he wasn’t going to forget easily.

When he’d made it downstairs fifteen minutes earlier, he’d found Sydney bent over and wiggling her curvy bottom as she plucked things from his fridge. He’d had to hide behind the counter again.

Then, for the next five minutes, she’d quizzed him on all the foods he liked and didn’t like. She’d promised to make him a dinner he’d love. When he’d told her he could just order a pizza, she’d laughed.

“It’s my way of saying thank you for letting me stay here. And for the letters.” She’d tossed him her million-watt smile and started rummaging for pots and pans.

And that was how he wound up sitting on the nearby couch listening to her sing—badly, as she cooked—and falling more in love with her by the second. He was supposed to be looking at the mall surveillance tapes. Instead, all he wanted was to be closer to Sydney. He shook his head to refocus on the tapes.

His world narrowed to his computer screen as Bailey Vander came into view. She was with friends. They stopped in front of a store and her friends went in while Bailey went to a nearby ice cream cart. Then Vic came into view. Deacon watched as Vic stood near her. He had her do a spin for him and smiled at her. Bailey glowed as Vic talked to her. He reached out and ran a hand down her arm. Bailey nodded and entered her number into the phone he handed her. Bailey’s friends started to come out of the shop, and Vic looked at his watch and left.

Deacon paused the image on Vic’s smug face as he walked away from Bailey. He hit print and heard the printer in his office turn on.

“Is that the man?” Deacon looked up and found Sydney standing behind the couch looking over his shoulder.

“I think this is Vic. I’m emailing it to Ms. Vander to see if this is the same guy she saw having lunch with Bailey.”

“Send me a copy of the picture as well. I can send it to my fashion contacts right now. After my shower, I checked my email again. I heard from a few more friends. Tristan Models is in the strange position of having a couple top models out there right now, which allows them certain leeway in the industry’s mind. Those who are younger think Tristan is the next hip place to be. Those who are older remember numerous rumors of rape and some models who disappeared.”

“So, it’s either you love them or you hate them?” Deacon asked as he flipped in a different DVD. He had to push aside his anger and focus on the case. Emotions got in the way of seeing the small clues.

“That’s right. What are you looking for now?” Sydney asked as she leaned over his shoulder to look at the image of a side exit.

“I’m looking for where Vic goes. I want to see if I can get a license plate. How did Durante Ingemi get away with raping women, allegedly?” Deacon added sarcastically. No matter how hard he tried to think of them as pieces to the mystery he had to solve, he couldn’t.

“Well, the one that my friend told me about was when Durante had offices in New York, L.A., and Milan. It’s real easy through coercion. 'If you want to be represented by me, then you’ll do this.' Or it’s easy for things to get overlooked when they are constantly on the move between different locations around the world. Who is going to believe some poor girl from some farm in the middle of nowhere Poland who can’t even speak English or Italian when Durante is sitting next to a high-ranking politician at Milan fashion week? Most women would just keep quiet and go back to their home countries or try another agency.”

Deacon looked up from the laptop. His mouth was dry as he looked at the vibrant woman standing behind him. “Did anyone ever hurt you?” he asked quietly. He would kill anyone who had hurt her.

Sydney obviously saw that in his eyes for she stepped back quickly and shook her head. “No. My mom was always with me. She managed me until I was eighteen and attended every meeting and photo shoot I ever had. Even after I was eighteen and had my own agent.
Plus my dad . . . well, it’s hard to explain Keeneston and my family.”