The Distraction (16 page)

It helped that Chloe knew Alec. Paisley stood a little behind her, pulling at the end of her grass-stained yellow shirt, but seemed braver with her friend there.

“He's a friend of mine, Paisley,” I said.

“He was kissing you,” said Chloe. “Are you guys getting married?”

“Yes,” said Alec.

I laughed, half wondering if he was serious. Probably not. Of course not. He was just teasing the girls.

“He's kidding,” I said when Paisley looked at me with round eyes.

He cupped his hands over his mouth and whispered, “I'm not kidding.”

All right. Simmer down, butterflies. But they were beating their wings hard enough they might have been going ballistic.

Paisley stepped forward and smacked Alec on the arm, then ducked behind Chloe again. It surprised me so much, I didn't know what to say.

“Tag, you're it,” she said in a tiny voice. Chloe giggled.

Alec rose slowly, a serious expression on his face. Paisley took a step back.

“I'll give you five seconds' head start,” Alec said.

With a scream, they bounded off. Alec kissed me on the lips for exactly five seconds—just long enough to steal my breath—and then he chased after them.

T
he hamburgers were good, but not as good as Miss Iris's mac and cheese, and not nearly as good as the company. We laughed and played with the girls, polished off a key lime pie that Mike had brought, and let the hours slip away. Watching Alec and Paisley warmed me. He had the same gift that my father did with troubled kids. He probably would have done a good job getting through to Jacob.

Alec made an extra effort to help Amy with anything she needed, and grinned as Miss Iris told funny stories about him and Mike when they were kids. It was obvious they had a soft spot for each other, and that pleased me, too. I was glad he had an adopted mom like I did, even if it wasn't on paper.

Everything appeared to be going well. Until it wasn't.

Amy was clearing the table, hands full of dishes to take upstairs for leftovers, when a gust of wind blew through the courtyard. It caught the underside of one of the plates, causing her to juggle to keep everything upright. Mike, standing in front of her, jumped forward to help, and it must have scared Amy, because she dropped everything.

Which would have been nothing, except for the fact that she blocked her face with her arms, as if she thought Mike was going to hit her.

Paisley was on her feet within seconds. She took one look at Mike, then her mom, and before Amy could lower her hands and laugh about what had happened, she was off like a shot, running up the stairs into their apartment.

“Paisley!” I called after her. But I didn't follow, because Amy's face was white as a ghost.

“Amy?” I'd risen from my seat, and put my hand on her shoulder. She jerked back, as if I'd broken her from some trance, and stared at the ground, where the remnants of our food were strewn across the grass.

“Easy,” said Mike, holding his hands up in surrender. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“I can't believe . . .” She dropped to her knees and immediately began to clean up. “So stupid.”

I glanced up at Alec, who confirmed my suspicions with a look of pity.

I crouched beside Amy. “Let me help you.”

“Where's Paisley?” she asked quietly.

“Upstairs.”

“Shit.” She rose, and without explanation, walked quickly to the stairs. I nodded at Alec, who I knew would take care of things out here, and followed my friend.

I didn't catch up with her until we were inside. She was in Paisley's room, kneeling on the floor in front of her bed. It took me a moment to realize her daughter was hiding beneath the mattress.

“Pais, honey, come on out. Mommy wants to talk to you.”

Amy's voice broke.

“Paisley,
now
!” She started to cry.

Slowly, I approached, feeling too many things at the same time. Sadness, and rage, and anger, because how had I never seen this before? I'd known Amy since we were in high school. I'd come after Danny left. I'd talked to her almost every day of our adult lives, even when I'd lived in different states. I was a social worker, for God's sake, and had grown up in an unstable home. If anyone knew the signs of abuse, it was me.

And then came the hurt, because she'd never told me.

“Give her a second,” I said gently, and after a moment, Amy stood, and met me in the hallway.

“Amy, I'm sorry,” I said, the tears filling my eyes now, too.

She began to pace nervously, just a few steps back and forth, back and forth. I couldn't hold her in place even if I tried.

“God, that's embarrassing,” she said quickly. “That wind came out of nowhere.”

“Amy.”

“Mike probably thinks I'm a freak.”

“Amy.”

“I kind of thought maybe it was kismet, you know? Both of us with girls the same age
. Magic Mike
being my favorite movie . . .”

I took a slow breath.

“Good thing Jonathan never showed. That would have been a real shit storm.”

I hadn't remembered Jonathan was invited until she'd just mentioned it.

“He didn't call?” I asked.

“He texted. Said he got stuck with some work stuff.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and checked the open door to Paisley's room.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I asked, keeping my voice quiet.

“It's not a big deal,” she said. “I only went out with him once.”

“About Danny.” I hated that she was making me say it, but I knew I had to, because she needed me to be strong right now. “He hit you.”

Her tears came on with full force.

“Stop,” she said, then went back to the doorway of her daughter's room. “Paisley? Come out, honey. Let's go back outside and play.”

“Amy.” I blocked her way, and didn't let her pass. “I'm your best friend. You can talk to me.”

“Not about that,” she said after a moment.

“Why?”

“Because I stayed!” she said, this time loud enough that Paisley might have heard. Immediately she lowered her voice. “Because I stayed. And Paisley saw it happen, and I stayed anyway.”

My fingers wove together, squeezed until they shook. Amy's self-sabotaged relationships. Her sensitivity to the danger Alec had brought into my life. Paisley's fear of strangers and the way she'd stopped talking after her father had left. She'd known just what to do when her mom had reacted the way she had outside. Run and hide.

My heart was breaking.

“It happened a lot?” I asked, hating myself for every time I'd been in this apartment, talked to her, hugged her, without knowing. Hating myself for asking this stupid question. Once was too much.

“It happened enough.” Her face scrunched up as she tried to hold back the sob. “My baby saw him hurt me, and I told her it was okay, and I was okay, and Daddy didn't mean it. I said that to her knowing it was bullshit.”

“It's over,” I said. “He's gone.”

“Because he left,” she said, the disgust ripe in her voice. “I didn't kick him out. He left on his own.”

Then the strongest woman I'd ever seen fell to her knees, and covered her mouth with her hands, as if trying to hold herself back from saying any more.

It was risky touching her now, when touch had been used against her, but I did it anyway. I hugged her as hard as I could, and I cried with her.

“It's okay now,” I said. “We're all okay.”

*   *   *

Paisley finally came out, and while she and Amy talked on the bed, I cleaned up the kitchen. Alec and Mike had closed up shop outside, and the last of the leftovers were brought to Iris's house.

After a while, Alec knocked on the door. When I opened it, I stared at him standing in the threshold, and let the gratitude wash over me.

He was not without faults. He'd seen more than his fair share of trouble, and when he screwed up, he screwed up big. He kept too many secrets, carried too much weight, and was as stubborn as a mule. But he would never hurt me. Not like Amy's ex-husband had hurt her.

“How's everything going?” He didn't come inside. I'm not sure he would have unless Amy herself had invited him.

“Okay,” I said. “I think I should stay.”

He nodded.

Amy emerged from Paisley's room then, her face pale, her eyes red and puffy.

“Go,” she said. “We're good here.”

I was torn. If Amy needed me now, I wanted to be close.

“Really, you should go.” She looked over her shoulder to where her daughter was curled around her favorite teddy bear. “Paisley and I have some stuff we need to talk about.”

I hugged her, and went to grab my purse from her bedroom. While I was there, I heard Alec's low voice from the doorway, and paused to listen.

“Thanks for inviting me, Amy.”

“Some party, huh?” She laughed dryly.

Awkward silence followed. I started to come out, but stopped when Alec spoke again.

“Amy . . .” He hesitated. “Anna's important to me. I'd do anything for her. And because you're important to her, I'd do anything for you, too. I want you to know that.”

My heart did one slow roll in my chest. As I stepped out of the room, I saw the way he looked at my best friend—not like she was fragile, or like he was afraid she would lose it—but like she was made of fucking iron.

I loved him more than ever then.

Amy's shoulders rose with a shudder, then fell, as I returned to the front door.

“Good speech,” she said, voice raw from crying. “All that practicing paid off.”

He smiled at her, and with a promise from Amy to call me later, we left.

*   *   *

“I heard what you told her,” I said when we reached the parking lot. “Thank you.” The sunset cast long shadows across the pavement, reminding me how quickly the afternoon had passed.

Alec's Jeep was in the spot next to mine, and he leaned against it.

“It's true,” he said.

I stayed a step back. “And what you told the girls outside.”
That you want to marry me.
“Was that true?”

He grinned, and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you think?”

A red alert sounded over my already raw emotions. Before I did something entirely too memorable, like speaking in tongues, I turned away to look back at the apartment.

The guilt, of all things, settled me.

“I should have known something was happening,” I said.

“It's not always easy to see.”

“If you aren't looking,” I insisted. “I should have paid more attention. I will now.”

“It's not your fault, you know.”

I shook my head. It wasn't, but that didn't mean I hadn't let them down. Amy would never think that, but it was true. And I wouldn't do it again.

“Do you know his name?” Alec asked, not bothering to hide his intent. “Full name would be best.”

I faced him, seeing the truth in his set gaze, and feeling thankful for it. But as much as I wanted Danny to pay for what he'd done, I didn't want Alec going to jail for violating his parole. Amy's ex was gone. That was what was important.

“I would give it to you,” I said, “but seeing as you've already been in one fight in the last week, that seems a little risky.”

It seemed a little risky to bring up Trevor at all, but Alec wasn't fazed. His mouth tilted up.

“Mike and I just want to talk to him.”

“Trust me,” I said. “You don't want to
talk
to him as badly as I do.”

Alec shrugged, as if he'd find the information another way, and maybe it was wrong, but I hoped he succeeded.

I hurt for Amy, but I couldn't pity her. Despite what had happened, she was strong now, and Alec was the one with too much on his plate. Between the FBI, the lawyers, parole, his father, and his work, I wasn't sure how he was still standing.

“Are you working tonight?” I asked, finally facing him again.

He scratched his hands over his jaw, the exhaustion settling on his shoulders once again.

“I'm not on the schedule. But I need to pull together some stuff for my lawyer. Old appointments, credit card receipts. Would help if Ms. Rowe turned up. She kept all that stuff organized. Most of it disappeared when she did.” As he faded off, I pictured Maxim Stein's ice queen secretary. Terry Benitez had told me she'd gone missing before Alec had been released from jail. I guess they still hadn't found her. I had a bad feeling about that.

“Have they set the trial date yet?” I asked.

He laughed, as if I'd told a joke.

“Then you can do all that tomorrow,” I said.

His brows lifted at my definitive tone.

I thought of what Amy had said, about un-distracting him. She'd been on to something there. I thought he'd needed me to distract him from everything else, but maybe what he really needed was to focus on one thing.

I came closer, touching his knees.

“Tomorrow I'll help you put everything together for your lawyer.”

His eyes locked on mine, and his thigh muscles tensed beneath my hands.

“Did you have something in mind for tonight?” he asked.

Slowly, I pressed myself against him, and kissed him on the lips.

“It just so happens you have a front-row ticket to the ballet.”

A
n hour later Alec was sitting in an armless, straight-backed wooden chair in the center of our extravagant hotel room. I watched him through the crack in the bathroom door, my smile growing as he fidgeted and tapped his heel against the carpet.

The scene was set. The lights were dimmed nearly to the point of darkness. The iPod dock I used in home visits had been taken from my car and placed near the window. It was currently playing some very smooth contemporary jazz. There was other music ready, though; some hard-hitting techno I pulled out when I needed to clear my mind. It was just like the kind Jayne used in our pole dancing class.

I'd gone heavy on the smoky eye makeup, given my long, raven hair a sexy bedhead tease, and applied my lucky lipstick—
Orgasm
. I was wearing one of the complimentary robes from the hotel, but beneath it was the red lingerie I'd thrown into the duffle bag with the rest of my clothes when we'd torn out of Alec's apartment. I wished I had matching shoes, but the black patent leather pumps I'd worn to work yesterday would have to do.

It didn't really matter. Soon I'd be wearing nothing else.

A rush of nerves raced through my veins as I took a deep breath and switched off the bathroom light. As I stepped into the room, I harnessed my inner stripper, and prayed I would make Jayne proud.

“Let the torture begin,” I said under my breath.

I deliberately walked behind Alec toward the iPod player, and when he turned his head, I stopped.

“Did I say you could look at me?” I asked. “Face forward.”

He turned his head, chuckling softly. “Yes, ma'am.”

I nearly laughed with him, but stopped myself. One of the things that made Jayne so hot was her attitude. I needed to stay in character if I was going to make Alec beg, which I planned on doing.

I rounded the chair, standing in front of him while I swung the end of the robe's belt in a circle. Slowly, I appraised him, trying to appear haughty, but failing because he was so damn sexy, even in pants and a long-sleeved shirt. The more clothes he wore, the more I wanted to rip them off of him.

“Like what you see?” he asked after a moment. In the dark, his eyes reflected what little light there was, and I could feel the power shifting to his corner. I nearly gave in—let him rise, like I knew he wanted. Take me to the bed. Tear off my robe and bury himself inside me.

“Maybe,” I said nonchalantly, turning away before he caught me drooling.

I went to the iPod player and scrolled through my songs, taking my time. Making him wait.

“Please tell me you're wearing a tutu under that robe,” he said.

I smirked. Hid it. Kept clicking through my songs. If I went much slower the anxiety was going to eat me alive.

“Would you like that?” I asked.

“What I'd like is for you to be flat on your back with your legs spread.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, and caught him staring at my ass. He didn't bother hiding it. I could feel the lust in his gaze.

“You have a dirty mouth,” I told him. “You'll pay for that.”

As if he couldn't take it anymore, he stood.

“Sit. Down,” I snapped.

He dropped back in his seat.

“Better,” I purred.

He muttered something I couldn't hear.

“Have you ever been to the ballet?” I found the right song. It started softly, the thump of the bass like the roll of distant thunder.

“No.”

“Me neither. I started taking these classes while you were gone.” I walked in front of him. Stopped five feet away. “They made me think of you.”

“Ballet made you think of me,” he said slowly, a skeptical expression on his face.

The bass was strengthening.

I loosened the belt of the robe, it slid off my shoulder, revealing just a hint of red. It was now or never.

“Oh, did I say
ballet
?” I asked innocently. “I meant
pole dancing
.”

I shrugged out of the robe and it fell to the floor, pooling around my feet. The adrenaline surged through me like a whip.

His jaw fell slack.

“Fuck,” he ground out slowly, fingers spreading on his knees. “You took . . . pole dancing?” His gaze shot to mine.

I ran my hands through my hair. “We did lap dancing, too.”

His eyes followed my trailing hands to my breasts, boosted high in the lacy bra.

He shook his head. “Wait . . . who's we?”

“Just me and some other girls,” I assured him.

He tilted his head back and groaned.

“Have you ever been to a strip club, Alec?”

He winced. “A long time ago. Mike's bachelor party.”

My brow arched. Mike had been married. Interesting.

“And did you like it?”

“Don't remember. Too drunk.”

I took a step forward, then another, swinging my hips. I lifted my foot and set it on his thigh, sliding my heel closer and closer to his crotch. His hand gripped my calf a little too tightly, but his eyes dropped beneath my tiny skirt, to the thin strip of damp, red fabric that I'd exposed to him.

“You're going to like this,” I told him.

He licked his lips and leaned forward, but I lifted my leg a little higher and kicked him back into the chair.

“Uh-uh.” I shook my finger in his face. “You can't touch the dancer.”

The bass was climbing steadily. I pitied whoever was in the room next door, but figured they'd rather hear the music than the sounds we were about to make.

“You're killing me,” he said.

“Baby, I haven't even gotten started.”

I circled around him, running my fingertips over his shoulders, through his hair. When I was behind him I reached around his neck and slid my hands beneath the open collar of his shirt. There I felt the heat on his skin, and the rise of his chest as he took each breath.

“I didn't like this room,” I said. “All I could think of when I was here was you touching someone else.”

He stiffened. “Anna . . .”

“Shh.”
I covered his mouth with my hand. “I didn't ask you to speak.”

He adjusted his position, but said nothing.

I inhaled, taking a moment to breathe him in. The smell of him was intoxicating, like a drug. I could feel it hit my system, storm through my veins.

“It's in the past,” I whispered, tracing the edge of his ear with my tongue. “Now when you think of this place, you're going to think of me, is that clear?” My fingertips found his nipples, and pinched them. He sat a little straighter.

“Yes,” he hissed.

“And I'm going to know that's what you're thinking, because you won't be able to take your hands off of me.”

He tried to turn, but I shoved him roughly back in place. He let me control him, even though he could have easily done what he wanted with me.

“But not now,” I said, rising to walk around to the front of him again. “Now you're going to keep your hands to yourself until I say.”

His fingertips skimmed the back of my thigh as I moved by him, and I smacked his hand away.

“If you test me,” I warned him, “I won't give you what you need.”

I slid my hand down beneath my breasts, over my belly button, and tapped the very top of my slit to show him what I meant. His jaw was working, the muscles in his neck taut.

“This is a dangerous game,” he said.

I smiled.

The music was ramping up now, beating hard. I tried to remember Jayne's directions, but it was hard when he was devouring me with his hungry eyes, making lust throb at the apex of my thighs.

The nervousness was gone now. I didn't have to wonder if he'd be into this kind of thing. I could see it on his face that I had him by the balls.

I started to dance. Slow, exaggerated movements, despite the fast beat of the music. My hands felt their way over my breasts, and I squeezed them, watching his face tighten as he saw the pleasure it brought me. I spread my legs and dropped low, the way I'd done in class while holding the pole, only now I rubbed one hand over my damp center, feeling the ache there flare hotter, begging for relief. For a moment I imagined getting myself off in front of Alec. Making him watch me come. The thought of it pushed me even higher.

I touched my legs, arched my back, swung my hips. I turned around and slid the skirt up my thighs, showing him the globes of my ass, left bare by the thong. It was the most daring, erotic thing I'd ever done, and though my heart was pounding, I loved every second of it. Never had I had such power over him as I did right then.

When his heel started beating a hole through the floor, and the knuckles of his fists turned white on his knees, I came closer.

“Do you like what you see?” I asked, using his words from earlier.

“Fuck yes.” He thought this was an invitation to touch, but I stepped away before he could reach me.

“Uh-uh.” I shook my finger at him.

He groaned, and crossed his arms so tightly over his chest that I could see his biceps flex beneath the shirt. Taking pity on him, I backed onto his lap, keeping my legs on either side so I could maintain my balance.

I reached behind me for his hands and placed them on my hips.

“You can touch me here,” I instructed. “Here alone. Understand?”

He gripped me, palms hot, as I laid back against his chest. The bulge beneath his zipper was hard as a rock, straining against his jeans. The rough fabric scored the underside of my thighs as I moved.

“Do you want me?” I asked.

“Yes,” he growled. The desire in his voice made me crazy.

“You make me so hot,” I murmured, sliding my hand down again. His breath quickened in my hair as I lifted the skirt, and pushed aside my panties, showing him the way I touched myself. My middle finger slid into my slit, found my throbbing clit and massaged.

“Oh.” I arched back, my head on his shoulder. His hands gripped my hips even harder as he ground against my ass. I was so close I could come in seconds if I kept this up.

I stopped myself before I went too far. Rising slowly, I turned to face him, this time dropping to kneel between his legs. My nails scratched the denim covering his thighs as I lowered my mouth and bit his cock gently through his pants.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, jumping in his seat. “That's the sexiest goddamn thing I've ever seen.”

I smirked, crawling up into his lap, where I straddled his thighs. He gripped my hips again, and this time as I began to work them, he moved with me.

“Look at me,” I said, keeping my eyes trained on his. It was hard to remember to breathe when he was staring at me like that.

“Whatever else happens,” I told him, “you come back to me.”

His eyes tightened around the corners, and he swallowed. His gaze flicked to my lips, like he was going to kiss me, but I wasn't ready to let him go yet.

He whispered my name, his agreement to what I'd said, and I grabbed the edges of his shirt, jerking it open so that the top button snapped off.

He stilled, and the passion in his dark eyes turned greedy.

I popped the next button, and the next. Each one making me more excited. I was superwoman. From now on I was taking off all his shirts this way.

I rode him hard then, gyrating my pelvis against his, rubbing all the right spots. His hands wandered up my back, into my hair, pulling my body against his while he answered my every movement. Somehow he unlatched the skirt and tossed it to the floor. I reached back and unhooked my bra and rose, letting my sensitive nipples slide up his chest, and then over his open mouth. As his tongue shot out to graze them, I lost control.

The music roared through me. The feel of him burned my fingertips. I couldn't hold off any longer. I ripped his shirt over his head, scratching my nails over his chest. His hands fisted in my hair, and then he kissed me, hungrily, desperately. His tongue plunged into my mouth, and I could feel the vibrations of his groan inside me. The music was loud enough to drown out all other sounds, the lights dark enough to make us the only two people in the world.

But his hand fisted too hard in my hair, and suddenly the desire I'd been feeling was tinged with fear. I cried out, this time in pain, and when my eyes shot open I saw his confusion reflected back to me. Then his body stiffened. He tried to hold on to me, but it was too late.

I was jerked backward off of his lap, straight into the arms of another man.