Love’s Bounty (2 page)

He gave Deirdre a hug. “I told you she’d come,” he said, and he elbowed the raven-haired beauty standing next to him. Dressed in a turquoise wrap barely covering the essentials, the woman smiled first at Deirdre, then up at Emilio. They made a handsome couple, or would have if they didn’t bat for the same team.

“
Dee, sweetie.” Rachel leaned in and kissed the air on either side of her face.

They both laughed. She’d done it as a joke. Normally, neither one of them acted this high society or attended these types of soirees. Saturday nights usually found them at Duane’s Bar and Grill in Delmont. Relaxed in their jeans and T-shirts, they usually spent the night drinking brews and shooting pool with the rest of the hometown crowd. Maybe do a little bump and grind to the country tunes blaring out of the juke box. But not this night. This night was about hooking up with a total stranger and letting nature take over.

Rachel leaned in close. “It’s about time you allowed yourself to relax and stop mooning over that two-timing bi…”

“Rachel.” Emilio cut her off with a flick of his wrist. Stopping a passing waiter, he snagged them each a flute of champagne off the silver tray. “Tonight is about forgetting and letting go of all our inhibitions.”

“Oh, as if you ever had any, Emilio.” Deidre laughed.

“Okay, not me, but you two.” He pointed a finger at them. “I promised you both a night of fun and fantasy. It will all be at your fingertips
if
you’re brave enough to let go and fly.” His ebony eyes shimmered with mischief.

“Deirdre, I think the man just issued a dare.”

“I do believe you’re right, Rach.”

The three of them had been friends since grade school. They’d gotten in plenty of trouble over the years, pressing each other to break the rules. It had been a long time since Deirdre had let them goad her into doing something outrageous. But this night, she wanted to forget about the rules, forget about Brianna and all the pain she’d caused her.

“Only a chump turns down a dare.” Deirdre lifted her glass in a mock salute, before gulping the bubbling liquid like a whiskey shot.

* * * *

Ayden hadn’t expected this many people. Partygoers filled all twelve rooms on the first floor and spilled out onto the back lawn. Between the band playing on the stage across the lawn and the voices of the milling crowd, Ayden could barely hear the guy standing next to him at the outdoor bar.

“…so she says, ‘Can I get a rain check?’”

The other three men all let out a rolling laugh.

Ayden had basically tuned the jerk out a long time ago. His eyes swept the expanse of ocean in the distance, scanning the horizon for the running lights of boats. Before the sun had set, he’d seen a path leading down to the silver slip of sand. He itched to make his way down there to see if there was a boat or evidence of moorings. Tonight was strictly for surveillance. If he got lucky, he’d meet the owner himself, but with the small-time dealers he had hooked up with, he thought that unlikely.

After the thorough pat down at the door, he was grateful he hadn’t been armed or wired. He’d wondered about the bouncer’s sexual orientation after the rough treatment of his boys. His last lover hadn’t been so thorough in her handling of his genitalia. His mouth curved at the thought, and he let out a low laugh.

An elbow connected with his ribs.

“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 sound 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.

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 men 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 faded corduroy sport jacket were pushed up, revealing sinewy forearms and well-manicured nails. Ayden knew immediately who the guy was.

“Mr. Jameson. Er…” Rob 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.

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. A man after his own heart—never let alcohol cloud your head when business was at stake.

“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.

“You guys did good.” 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 separate and head 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. Ayden’s traitorous cock jumped in response to the sound.
Down, boy.
It had been a while since he’d seen any action, but tonight was about business, not pleasure.

He stole a glance over his shoulder, checking to make sure neither cop had followed him. Instead of heading to the valet, 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. If his gut was right, which it usually was, he should avoid going up there if it could be helped. Too many drugged-out, naked women in that direction. Nope, definitely not a place he wanted to explore tonight.

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. Once again, his cock throbbed.

Focus on Jameson, not the women.

Chapter 2

This was more like it.

Deirdre’s head buzzed pleasantly from the champagne. The beat coming out of the speaker she danced on throbbed straight through her bare feet to her tingling sex. Waving her arms in time with the music, she smiled down at Emilio and Rachel dancing on the floor near the amplifier.

The sexy brunette molded enticingly to Deirdre’s back, rubbed her palms along Deirdre’s thighs. Reaching behind her, Deirdre caressed the luscious curves of the woman’s ass, pulling her pubic bone 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 note 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. 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. “Sugar, that was incredible.” He looked up at Deirdre. “Sorry, sweetie, she’s mine. But thanks for playing along.” He crushed his mouth over those ruby red lips, before dragging his date back into the crowd.

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

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

Deirdre sent a fuming glare over her shoulder at the lead singer on the stage. She’d been humiliated in front of total strangers. Bending low, she put her hand on top of the speaker and swung her bare feet to the floor. Emilio gathered her in his arms, kissing her full on the lips.

The 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.

“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 over the drumbeat and rowdy vocals of the band.

“I’m just going to take a walk. I need some air.”

“Your hair? It’s fine,” Rachel yelled again.

“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. She retrieved her shoes from the floor next to the speaker and carried them through the throng.

Ignoring the hands groping her ass and tits, she pushed her way to the front door. Finally reaching the cool air of the front porch, she felt as if she’d been borne through the birth canal. She walked to the end of the planks, grateful for a moment of solitude. As she slipped her feet back into her pumps, 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 fear flew out of her mouth on a yelp.

“Sorry to startle you.” The half moon illuminated the dark-haired man leaning against the corner of the house. One foot was leisurely tucked up on the wall behind him. He looked dangerous, like he was ready to leap on something … or someone.

He held a glass out to her. “Perrier?” The sweat beading on the tumbler made her realize 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.

He smiled, and as if reading her mind, sipped from it himself before holding it out to her. “It’s not drugged, if that’s what you’re thinking. I would never do that to a woman.” His deep voice washed a wave of heat over her. She took the glass and nearly drank it all, before stopping short and offering it back to him.

He laughed quietly, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated her bones. “No, after that dance, you need it, I’m sure.” He flicked his head at the window, where he could see the band, their amplifiers and all the dancers.

Heat flashed up her cheeks, and Deirdre hoped neither the glow of the moon nor the light slanting through the window revealed her embarrassment. “It’s a nice party,” she drawled, pleased her voice didn’t tremble. She drained the liquid in the glass. She was at a loss for words. “Owner’s got to be some mighty rich dude.” She looked back over her shoulder at the open door, wishing Emilio and Rachel had followed her.

“What makes you say that?” His tone was casual, pleasant even.

Her muscles relaxed. “You know, two bands, open bar and look at this house.” She shrugged.

“You like the house?”

“You’re kidding, right? What’s not to like about this … this mansion.” She turned and stared out over the shadowed lawn. The gardens looked even more depressing in the muted light. “Okay, well except the gardens, of course, and well, the lawn, and trees and stuff. But yeah, I like the house.”

He pushed away from the wall and stood next to her, contemplating the flower bed. “What’s wrong with the gardens? I like all the flowers. It’s what finally convinced me to buy the property.”

Glass shattered. She jumped as the tumbler that had slipped out of her hand splintered at her feet. “Oh, damn, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t move, you might step on something and get cut.” His firm hand held her in place. The shards of glass glittered in the moonlight. A waiter rushed over from the foyer, scooping the debris into a cloth napkin. A second waiter followed with a silver tray holding two fresh glasses of ice water. Taking one in each hand, he nodded at the two men. “Thank you, gentlemen. That’ll be all.” He handed one of the glasses to Deirdre.

The waiters melted into the shadows as if they were part of the backdrop.

“I’m so sorry. I always put my foot in my mouth. I shouldn’t have insulted your property. It’s a lovely party…”

He halted her verbal diarrhea with a finger to her lips.

“You’re a lovely lady, Miss…”

“Tilling. Deirdre Tilling,” she said around the finger still warm against her lips.

“Shawn Jameson,” he said, releasing her mouth and toasting her.

There was a feral look glittering in those eyes.

Deirdre gulped greedily of the bubbling liquid flavored with lemon and tried to wash down the embarrassment.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Deirdre Tilling.” He bent slightly at the waist, took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles.

Deirdre’s stomach flipped. Was that her libido doing a double take for a
guy
or her gut warning her something was just a little off-kilter with him?

“Now, back to the gardens. What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing, well, it’s just that…”

“Spit it out, Deirdre.” He laughed as he spoke.

Despite the tingle on the back of her neck, Deirdre tried to let the humor in his voice relax the knot in her stomach.

“I’m a landscaper, and the flowers are throwing seeds, your beds need to be prepared and everything needs trimming, or you’re going to have one helluva mess come winter.”

“My beds? Prepared for what?” He looked at her over the rim of his glass. His Adam’s apple bobbed with each long swallow he took. Deirdre saw the moon reflected in the deep pools of his eyes. Oh, this man was dangerous all right.

“Mr. Jameson…”

“Shawn.”

“Right. Shawn.” Deirdre sighed. “I’m talking about the
flower
beds and your lawn. I’d need to lay…”

“That sounds good.”

“Will you stop?” She wasn’t sure if she was intrigued or frustrated. “I propose…”

“And I accept, though it is a bit fast, even for me.”

“Really, are you always this forward with complete strangers?” She forced out a laugh, but his over-the-top friendly nature was beginning to grate.

“Only the pretty ones with spun copper for hair.” He pulled at one of the ringlets by her face. “And eyelashes that could, well … I’ll save that for another time.”

He’d rendered her speechless, and he knew it.

“Deirdre, I will pay you … say … ten thousand dollars to do whatever work needs to be done on my property to get it ready for winter.”

She opened her mouth to object to the outrageous sum of money, but he silenced her a second time with a finger on her lips.

“Provided—and this is a make or break codicil—provided you show up here Monday morning, bright and early. And come every day until the work is done” He pulled his hand away.

“But…”

His mouth crushed down on hers. He tasted of lemon and smelled of fresh air. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, and she opened for him, trying to figure out exactly how she felt about this strange man. His tongue slipped into her mouth, exploring and sampling until she was reeling from the feel of his pliant lips devouring hers. When he eased away from her, his mouth curved with masculine arrogance, snapping her back to reality. The man was nothing more than a womanizer.

“Do we have a deal, Miss Deirdre Tilling?”

“Sure, we have a deal. Monday morning,” she said, trying to keep her voice from betraying her annoyance. For ten thousand dollars, she could put up with almost anything.

* * * *

Ayden made his way down the path. It was nearly midnight, the slice of moon directly overhead. Looking back over his shoulder, he checked again to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Even as he crested the knoll into the marsh grass, he could hear the loud voices of the crowd. It didn’t look like this party would slow down for a long while. Most of the guests were hyped-up on heroin, maybe coke, definitely alcohol, all generously provided by one Mr. Shawn Jameson.

The sophisticated man he’d met at the bar was exactly what he’d expected. Even in his casual attire, the man exuded a persona that communicated to those around him he was in complete control. Ayden speculated on how far the man’s connections reached.

Jameson had a legitimate commercial real estate business with major offices in Bangor and Portland, but even with that income, most people didn’t own three properties, one of them a seaside retreat large enough to be a small hotel. This could definitely be the score Ayden was looking for.

“Jameson’s the guy, I know it.” The words floated away on the breeze. He’d bust this asshole’s operation wide open and staunch the hemorrhaging of illegal substances into the
United States. In the process, he’d purge himself of the burden of guilt he’d slogged around for two goddamn years. He wanted so much more than to save the future drug addicts the pain of recovery.

He wanted revenge.

The evil snake coiled up within him, and he fought to tamp it down. Now that he was so close, he couldn’t let his emotions get tangled up with the job.

Stepping off the path onto the small beach bathed in moonlight, he rolled his head and stretched the taut muscles of his neck. He forced his heart rate to slow in time with the rhythmic wash of the water. The sound of the surf drowned out the last strains of the pounding rock music. This he could enjoy. He breathed deep, letting the tangy taste of the salt air replace the bitter flavor of remorse. Refocused, he walked down the beach.

He’d come down here because he’d seen the sassy, redheaded bimbo walk this way. Kill two birds with one stone, three if he got lucky: check the beach for recent boat traffic, find Jameson’s play toy and pump her for information, and if he was lucky, just plain pump himself into her. The pressure built behind his fly.

Oh, he’d watched her all right. He didn’t think anyone had missed the little bump and grind she’d done with the brunette on the speaker. Sexy as hell. What man wouldn’t react to that display? The way those two had been on each other, though, he’d thought probably they were lovers. They looked like they were going to strip each other naked and do each other right there.

Then the brunette had left with some guy, and he’d watched the redhead play tonsil hockey with Jameson on the front deck. He’d abandoned all pretense and now was as focused on getting laid as he was on collecting information from the bimbo. He figured she swung whichever way the wind was blowing. And the way he was feeling, he hoped she’d think a monsoon had swept in her direction when he found her.

He scanned the beach, seeing no signs of her. There had to be another path up to the house. Or maybe she was already rolling in the grass with someone else. He hoped the former.

Ayden headed for the dinghy lying on its side in the sand. Tethered to a large buoy bolted into the beach sand, the small boat was anchored against any rogue waves. From the placement of the dead seaweed mounds, he surmised it was nearly low tide. The waves rolled in a long distance from the power motor on the back of the dinghy. The small skiff didn’t look big enough to haul large quantities of drugs from cargo vessels to the shore, but Ayden knew drug runners could be very resourceful when they needed to be. Looks could be deceiving.

An unnatural sound stopped him in his tracks. His gaze swept the sand as his hands flew to his back, touching only the waistband of his jeans.
No gun, damn it
. It was still tucked safely in his car. What had he been thinking, coming all the way down here without it? He hadn’t. His dick had been leading the way for the last fifteen minutes. The thought of a heated conversation and some slap and tickle with one of Jameson’s squeezes had been like a magnet pulling him toward the ocean.