Optical Delusions in Deadwood (45 page)

      “You.”

      “Besides me?” When he just looked at me, I answered for him. “Nothing. But you know what I lose? My best friend.”

      “You don’t know that.”

      “She believes she’s in love with you.”

      “That’s not my fault. Nor is it yours.”

      “Fault? That doesn’t matter. Natalie thinks she’s in love. Period.” I crossed the glossy floor to the counter, needing space between us. “I’m not willing to take a chance and lose Natalie just because I can’t keep my underwear on when I’m around you.”

      “You think this is just about sex?”

      “Yes.” That wasn’t true. “No.” But sex did play a large part in it. I squeezed my temples. “I don’t know, Doc. What’s it about?”

      “Violet, you’re the only person alive who knows the truth about me.”

      “What’s that mean?” I wasn’t sure what I wanted from him, but I wasn’t going to make the mistake of reading anything into his words.

      “It means ... Damn it, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Not having you in my life would make it a hell of a lot easier.”

      Okay, that was definitely not what I’d hoped he meant. “You could use some schooling on wooing.”

      “I’m a little rusty.”

      “More than a little.”

      He jammed his hands in his pockets. “When you disappeared Friday, it scared the shit out of me.”

      “Aunt Zoe told me you felt responsible. You shouldn’t have.”

      “What I felt had nothing to do with responsibility.” His eyes explored my face for a moment, searching. “Violet, I can’t guarantee you any kind of happily ever after. Shit, we haven’t even gone on a date yet. But I’m not running away, anymore. Not from the ghosts, not from you. I’ve bought this house. I’m building my business. I’m here to stay and see things through. Are you?”

      My cell phone rang.

      Crud. “I have to get that. It might be Jane.”

      He nodded.

      I pulled it from my pocket and checked the phone number. My heart twanged. “It’s Natalie.”

      His face tightened with what I guessed was frustration. He looked to the ceiling and swore, confirming my presumption. When his gaze came back to mine, his eyes were withdrawn, his expression flat. “Take the call.”

      “Doc—”

      “Let yourself out when you’re done. You know where the door is.”

      He left me standing there with a ringing phone and a torn heart as he crashed up the back stairs where we’d shared our first kiss.

      “Hello?” I said into my phone.

      “Hey, girlfriend. I’m thinking pizza and beer tonight for therapy. What time are you done with work?”

      Doc’s footfalls creaked overhead. I tracked his path across the upstairs bedroom floor. He was right above me, probably at the window.

      “Vi?” Natalie said.

      I looked out the patio doors at the backyard. The birdbath sat there, a lone sparrow splashing in a small puddle at its center.

      “Vi, are you there?”

      “Yeah.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Natalie, I’m sorry, but I can’t hang tonight. Something’s come up at work.”

      “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

      “Always,” I said, and she chuckled. “I’m fine. I just need to take care of something.”

      “All right. If you need me, you know how to reach me.”

      “Thanks, Nat.”

      “For what?”

      “Being such a great friend.”

      “Who loves you, babe?”

      “Back at ya,” I said and clicked my phone shut, tossing it on the counter.

      The stair steps complained under my sandals. I found Doc right where I’d envisioned, staring out the window.

      “You didn’t leave,” he said without looking at me.

      “No, I didn’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And yes, I am,” I said with finality.

      He frowned at me. “Yes, you are what?”

      “Here to stay. Or at least try staying.”

      His eyes narrowed. “What about Natalie? Your kids? Your boss?”

      I shrugged. “It’s going to be rocky as hell.”

      A hint of a smile creased his lips. “But you like it rough.”

      “Especially from you.”

      His lazy grin came out to play. “Come here.”

      I obeyed, standing close, inhaling the woodsy aroma of his aftershave warmed by his skin. Anticipation had my knees quivering.

      His fingers brushed over my face, his grin fading. “Lila really did a number on you. How are your other injuries?” He briefly inspected my bandaged forearm and thumb.

      “Healing quickly.” I was still a little stiff and sore, but nothing a handful of ibuprofen couldn’t fix.

      “Good,” he said. “Kiss me.”

      Okay. “On one condition.”

      “Name it.”

      “There’s no hiding shit from me from here on out. Ghosts or not, you tell me.”

      He chewed on that for a moment, then nodded. “Deal, but same goes for you. Now kiss me.”

      I stood on my tiptoes, cupped his face, and brushed my lips over his.

      A growl rose up from deep in his throat. “No.” He whirled me around and shoved me up against the wall. “Like this.”

      His mouth crushed mine. Frenzied, stormy. A flurry of need blew into me, rocking my world. His teeth nipped my lips, his tongue licking the wounds. I spun, drowning, in a whirlpool of lust.

      He came up for air, dotting my mouth with butterfly kisses, teasing. My body pulsed and ached. 

      “Is that all you’ve got?” I whispered, reaching for his fly.

      “Vixen.” He captured my hands, gently pinning them over my head. “I wanted to try taking it slow this time.”

      “I don’t want it slow.” I squirmed, yearning tightening my muscles, craving release. “Not right now.”

      He trailed his free hand down the side of my breast, skimming, tantalizing. “How do you want it, Boots?”

      “Hard.” I moved my torso trying to make his hand touch where I wanted. “Deep and hard.”

      His breath hitched, but his palm drifted lower, sliding over my hip. “You already said ‘hard.’”

      “I know.” I leaned forward and licked his lower lip, then bit it. “I want you to make me scream.”

      His eyes darkened, his pupils inky black pools. “You’re so damned hot.”

      “Doc,” I breathed his name. Slipping one of my hands free, I guided his fingers to the throbbing center of my body. “Hurry up and touch me.”

      He resisted, teasing, brushing, then skirting. His lips met mine, his tongue seducing me. 

      Tension coiled even tighter. I whimpered, wiggling against him, and wrapped my leg around his thigh. 

      He trailed his mouth along my jaw, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “Violet,” he said, his tone gritty. “If you don’t stop rubbing against me like that, I’m not going to last long enough to get my pants off.”

      “But you feel so good. I can’t stop.”

      “Jesus.” He let go of my other hand and lifted my dress, tearing at my panties.

      I helped, shimmying out of them as he struggled with his jeans.

      He brushed my hands aside and kicked off his pants. I dropped to my knees, kissing the warm skin below his bellybutton.

      “There’s no time for that, Boots.”

      He hauled me back up and lifted me, pinning my back against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist, rubbing up and down the length of him.

      “Now, Doc.”

      “Your dress is in the way.”

      I yanked it up around my waist and shifted against him, sliding down onto him. Pleasure rippled across his face as he sank all of the way inside.

      “God, Violet.” He cupped my hips. “You’re so ready.”

      “I was ready last week.”

      He chuckled, then pulled out and slammed back into me, shoving me hard into the wall. The clip holding my chignon dug into the back of my skull, so I yanked it out, shaking my hair free.

      “So sexy.” He nuzzled my neck and he bore into me. “Your hair smells like peaches and cream.” He tore my dress strap down, exposing my right breast. “My favorite dessert.”

      I held his head against me as his tongue flicked. “Doc,” I said, riding the upward spiraling waves of pleasure growing with each push and pull. “I can’t wait for you.”

      “Don’t,” he clutched my hips, driving harder, pushing me further up the wall.

      I didn’t. Ecstasy crashed through me. Then Doc reached between us and touched me, rubbing with his thumb, and I really blew a gasket. I didn’t realize I was crying out until Doc covered my mouth with his and silence filled the room. I relaxed around him, still pulsing.

      He grabbed my hips and gave one final shove and groan into my mouth. Shudders racked him, his muscles trembling under my hands and legs. He pulled away from my lips and leaned his head on my shoulder as more quakes shook him. Then his body stilled, his breaths slowing.

      I ran my fingers through his hair. My heart felt full, warm, and cozy. My body tingled like I’d just been zapped back to life.

      “Violet,” he said against my shoulder.

      “Yeah?”

      “That was one hell of a housewarming gift.”

      “I aim to please.”

      His soft laughter vibrated against me. “I want more.”

      “Me, too.”

      “I mean right now,” he said, rocking my hips, grinding.

      “Giddy up,” I said under my breath.

      He bumped against my
Go
button and my breath caught.
Oh! Wow!
That was new.

      Doc’s pants rang.

      “Damn.” He hesitated, looking at me.

      The desire glowing in his eyes sent thrill-filled jitters through me. I did that to him. The knowledge made my head float.

      “Get it,” I told him. “I’m not going anywhere.” The kids were at my parents’ and Aunt Zoe was just a quick phone call away. For once, I didn’t have to leave the party early.

      He let me slide to the floor. My feet were prickly with a lack of blood flow.

      Doc shuffled through his pants, digging his phone out of his pocket. He frowned at the number. “It’s Harvey.”

      Of course. “See what he wants now.”

      Doc answered, listened for a moment, and then held the phone out to me. “He wants to talk to you.”

      What? I hadn’t expected that. I took the phone. “What’s going on, Harvey?”

      His breath rasped, like he’d been rushing about. “Have you ever seen a headless corpse?”

      I blinked. Twice. I’d expected a razzing for being with Doc. His question threw me off guard. “No. Why would you ask me that?”

      “Because ol’ Red just dug one up back in my cemetery.”

      My chest seized for several seconds. We’d never get his ranch sold at this rate. “Have you called Cooper?”

      That got Doc’s attention. He froze in the midst of zipping up his pants, his gaze questioning.

      “Not yet,” Harvey answered.

      “Why not?”

      “I thought of you first.”

      “Why me?”

      “Because I found your business card in its hand.”

      The End...for now

     
Sneak Peak!

      Want a sneak peak at Ann Charles’ third book,
Dead Case in Deadwood
*, in the Deadwood Mystery series? Read on ...

      *
Dead Case in Deadwood
will be available online in early 2012

     
DEAD CASE IN DEADWOOD

     
Chapter One

     
Deadwood, South Dakota

     
Friday, August 17th

      There was something downright fishy about the corpse filleted on the autopsy table in front of me.

      Besides the fact that his head was missing.

      Across the chilled body, Detective “Coop” Cooper frowned at me. A Daniel Craig doppelganger right down to his granite cheekbones, Cooper had called at the butt crack of dawn and ordered me to meet him here in the basement of the Mudder Brothers’ Funeral Parlor before I headed in to work at Calamity Jane Realty.

      Call me crotchety, but I didn’t like being bossed around, especially before I’d injected any caffeine into my system. “I told you when you dragged me into your office earlier this week, Detective, that I have no idea who this guy is.”

      Cooper’s stainless-steel-colored eyes squinted at me, not missing a single one of my blinks. I wondered if he practiced his gunslinger stare-down in the mirror every night while he brushed his teeth.

      Facing off with the detective hadn’t been on my agenda for today, but I’d be damned if I’d let him intimidate me over a dead guy who just happened to be palming my business card when his body was found. I lifted my chin and added for good measure, “Standing here looking at the body changes nothing.”

      “Miss Parker,” Cooper spoke through a clenched jaw, something I often practiced when dealing with my nearly ten-year-old fraternal twins. “You have to at least look at the body before stating for the record that you don’t recognize the victim.”

      “What’s there to look at? His head is gone.”

      Cooper’s nostrils flared. Surly bulls had nothing on him. “Do you recognize any other parts of him?”

      “Like what parts in particular?”

      “The remaining ones.”

      “Nope.”

      Cooper growled loudly enough for me to hear. “Look before you answer.”

      “Fine.” I took a deep breath, thankful for the overwhelming scent of bleach-based cleaner in the air, and willed the troop of monkeys bouncing around in my gut to sit still. I could do this. No problem. It was just a dummy. A mannequin. One of those CPR dolls. I had to do it, for my own safety’s sake, as well as my kids’. As much as I hoped it was just a coincidence that the dead guy had been holding my business card, I had to make sure this wasn’t a sadistic warning message of some sort. I knew that kind of thinking was a tad paranoid, but after the wacky crap that had happened to me over the last couple of months, these days I’d be suspicious of a jolly white-bearded man in a red suit carrying a bag over his shoulder.