Devil's Creek Read online

  She snorted and rolled her eyes at them.

  She’d give him five minutes, then take off faster than a bat outta hell. No way would she wait for some guy who just wanted to—

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Candy?”

  She swiveled to take in the tall man who loomed over her, raising her eyes slowly to his. “Chandler?”

  He nodded, smiled, and slid onto the stool beside her. “That’s me.”

  He looked a bit older than his picture. And not quite as fit as the photo she’d seen on Facebook that morning. His hair receded a bit. And he definitely had a sprinkling of gray in the black spikes. He might be about Anderson’s age. Maybe a little older.

  She sighed.

  Oh, hell. That’s why they have Viagra, right?

  But the telltale bulge in his jeans made her take notice. Wow. He’s one lucky guy. And I’m about to become one lucky woman.

  Batting her lashes, she gestured to a table in the far corner. “Shall we get some dinner? I’m famished.”

  He jumped up, putting his hand on her lower back. “This way, milady.”

  She liked that. He was polite and hot. Kind of a nice combination.

  “Thank you.” She grabbed her purse and made sure she walked slowly, very lady-like, with measured steps. She swung her hips wide, but not too obviously. She didn’t want to look like a whore. She chose ‘em, whenever and wherever she wanted. She didn’t take just any old cock on legs.

  His hand slid a little lower, brushing her backside.

  She stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, Chandler. I think your hand slipped.” She smiled when he removed it. She didn’t want to come across as easy. Even though as they walked she felt her need growing, her body moistening, anticipating a night of hot, raw sex.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean… ”

  “Yes, you did.” She smiled again. This time she used her vixen smile. It usually drove men wild.

  “Guilty as charged.” He grinned and pulled back a chair for her. “Please. Have a seat.”

  “That’s better.” She slid onto the chair, allowing him to push it in for her. “Thank you.”

  “Would you like another drink?” His eyes raked her body and his hand shook slightly when he touched her arm.

  She always had that effect on men. She smiled.

  Almost purring, she said, “No, silly. Can’t you see I’ve just started this one?” She raised her drink to show him. “But you’d best catch up. Order yourself something.”

  The waitress sauntered over and lifted her pad in the air with pencil poised. “What’ll it be?”

  He straightened, but didn’t take his eyes off Grace. “Beer. Whatever you’ve got from the tap.”

  She began a long list of names, but he raised a hand to stop her before she could finish. “Give me a Sam Adams.”

  “Coming right up.” Without smiling, the waitress melted into the background.

  “So, Chandler, tell me about yourself.” She leaned forward to take another sip of her pink drink.

  His eyes narrowed, but he leaned forward, smiling.

  Just like a wolf, she thought. A big, bad wolf.

  “I’ve done a little bit of everything. Just moved to town. Looking to make friends. You know?”

  “Uh huh.” She shifted in her seat, more than ready to move past this awkward stage. She didn’t give a crap about what he did for a job, whom he was married to, how many damned kids he had, or where he was born. She just wanted to throw him on a bed and screw him till he begged for mercy. “Friends are good.”

  “And you?” he said.

  She tilted her head. “Oh, I’m just a bored housewife.”

  “No.” He raised his eyebrows. “You’re married?” The waitress slid a bottle of beer onto the table, but he ignored her.

  “I am.”

  “I’m glad we’re being honest,” he said. “So, are you looking for a little excitement?”

  She giggled. “I’d like something bigger. Nothing little will do.” She eyed his crotch. “Know what I mean?”

  He grinned. “I won’t disappoint you.”

  She stood. “Good. Suddenly, I’m not so hungry anymore. For food, that is.” She flashed her best, blazing smile. “Settle the bill, and I’ll be right back.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, satisfied with the lustful expression raging on his face.

  Yes. He would do just fine tonight.

  Chapter 5

  Grace sat in the passenger side of Chandler’s Lincoln, legs crossed, purse on lap, and humming the tune to “Frere Jacques.” She glanced down at a pack of cigarettes in the console between the seats. “May I?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Your profile said you don’t smoke.”

  She drew one out of the pack and smiled. “I don’t, actually. I used to in college. But tonight… tonight, I feel like going back in time.”

  “Okay.” He reached into his pocket for a lighter, flicked it on, and held it steady for her. “There you go.”

  “Thanks.” She spewed a rope of smoke toward the cracked window, watching it spiral in the wind. “So, where are you taking me? Do you live in Canada or something? We’ve been on the road for twenty minutes already.”

  “It’s a house in the country. You’ll love it. Not far now.”

  A pinprick of worry tickled her spine. A lonely house in the country wasn’t her usual routine. “I thought maybe we’d go to a hotel.”

  “Nah. There’s so much more to do at my place. We’ve got a creek. And you can swim in it.”

  “Nice.”

  “And there’s an outside Jacuzzi. You can soak under the stars.”

  “Even better,” she said, relaxing. “Got any good booze there?”

  He grinned, taking his attention off the road for a second to lock eyes with her. “Sure. Anything you want. I stocked the bar yesterday.”

  “I’m hankering for a pear Mojito,” she said. “Can you make me one?”

  He laughed. “Well. I’ve got the white rum and mint leaves. But I don’t have pear syrup. Think you’ll survive?”

  She pouted. “I’m not sure.” After a moment of playing with him, she released a slow smile. “Well, maybe.”

  “Thought so,” he said. “Hey. Question for you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Does your husband know?”

  “About us?”

  “Well,” he said with a chuckle, “there isn’t really an ‘us’ yet. But does he know you do… this?”

  She frowned. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “No. Really. I'm curious. What’s he like?”

  “I said, I don’t wanna talk about him.”

  “All right. At least tell me his name.”

  She frowned and swiveled toward him. “Why? Does that get you off?”

  He snorted a laugh. “Maybe it does. Knowing I’ve pulled a fast one on some dumb ass guy who can’t satisfy his own wife.” He winked at her. “Know what I mean?”

  “He’s not a dumb ass,” she said. “He’s a good guy.”

  He scowled. “If he’s such a great guy, then why—”

  She held up both hands, palms out, to stop his flow of words. “No. I refuse to discuss this. Let’s just drive.”

  He shrugged. “Okay. Deal.”

  Five minutes later, they turned into a dark dirt track almost hidden from the main road. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. Maybe the night could be salvaged, although her desire for the jerk had faded. Why was he so interested in her husband? Geez. She stubbed out her cigarette. It had tasted terrible.

  She had to get back in the mood, or the whole night would be spoiled.

  With a sultry laugh, she glanced up with surprise at the mansion looming before her. “Wow. This is your place?”

  “Well,” he hesitated. “Not exactly. It belongs to a friend. I’m house-sitting.”

  “Beautiful,” she said, opening her door. “It’s huge.”

  He hurried around to her side, but not fast enough
to help her out. She was already leaning back against the car, looking up at the porticos and gables. “Just wow.”

  He sidled up next to her. “Yeah. It’s pretty amazing.”

  “Now I see why you didn’t want to go to a hotel.”

  He leaned sideways, placing a kiss on her neck. “You should see the master bedroom. The bed’s as big as that pond over there.” He motioned toward the back of the property, where a sloping lawn led down to a stream, and a dammed up section formed a little pond.

  “Is that where you swim?” she asked.

  “Yep. Devil’s Creek. Cool name, huh?”

  “Why Devil’s Creek? Why not something prettier?” She thought with a shudder of her experience last year near Devil’s Lake, way off in Wisconsin. Strange coincidence.

  He tried to slip an arm around her waist, sighing when she turned away from him. “Um. I don’t know. I guess some kid died there years ago. Fell through the ice and drowned.”

  “That’s horrible.” She pulled another pout. “You’d best come up with some new story about it. Or all the girls you pick up will be turned off.”

  “All the girls I pick up?” he teased. “Really?”

  “Well. Don’t you pick up lots of girls?”

  “No. Actually, you’re the first in a long time.”

  She turned toward him. “Really?”

  “You should feel very special.” His eyes narrowed. “Extra special.”

  A thrill trailed down her spine. Either he was some cool loner cowboy-type, or really creepy. She hadn’t decided yet.

  “Why’s that?” she asked, starting to walk toward the front door. She glanced provocatively over her shoulder.

  He caught up in three strides. “Just because.” In a sudden rush, he pulled her to him and kissed her, thrusting his tongue against hers.

  She melted in his arms, plastering her body against his. “Oh. I see.”

  With a wicked laugh, he scooped her into his arms. “What do you think? Hot tub first? Then bed?”

  “Yes,” she said, snuggling her face into his neck. “Hot tub first. I want to see the stars.”

  “You’ll see more than stars,” he whispered. “You’ll see the sun, moon, and every goddamned galaxy.”

  “Yum.” She reached down and stroked him. He was already hard. “Okay. Show me the way, big guy.”

  Chapter 6

  Anderson grabbed the still-warm bags of Chinese food and hurried toward the dark cottage. He stopped for a minute and scanned the driveway.

  Strange. Grace’s Mustang was missing.

  Maybe she went out for a bottle of wine? A last minute errand?

  He hurried inside and checked the refrigerator where she usually left her hastily-scrawled notes. No “Be back in five” note hung from the magnets.

  As a matter of fact, every light in the house was off. Even stranger. She always left the porch light on when he was due home from work.

  He set the food on the counter and walked out to check the garage, just in case she’d moved her car inside.

  Nothing but his lawnmower and assorted junk.

  A quick call to her phone went to voicemail. The sultry voice said, “Leave a message. I’ll call you back. Promise.”

  What the hell?

  Don’t panic. She’ll probably be back in a few minutes.

  Anderson snatched an eggroll from the bag and squeezed duck sauce onto it. He burned his mouth with the first bite, but kept eating. He ate another one, then flicked on the television and watched the end of the news. Checking his watch, he realized he actually was a full thirty minutes early. It was just seven and he’d promised to be home by seven-thirty.

  So, maybe Grace was visiting her sister?

  He swiped his iPhone to Portia’s number, and tapped it. To his surprise, Boone picked up.

  “Hey, Anderson. Portia’s in the shower.”

  “Oh. Hey, Boone.”

  “What’s up? You arranging a secret rendezvous with my wife?” Boone chuckled. “My pregnant wife, might I add?”

  Anderson snorted a laugh. “Hell, no! Just wondering, is Grace there?”

  “Nope. Haven’t seen her since yesterday, when those two girls went nuts choosing wallpaper for the baby’s room. Geez, you shoulda seen them. They wore me out. I thought I’d go crazy in that damned store.”

  “Better you than me,” he said, trying to sound casual. But he felt far from casual. A niggling sensation kicked under his ribs. “It’s no big deal. I’m home a half hour early, so I imagine she’ll roll in any minute now.”

  “Sure. No worries. She’ll be there,” Boone said, as if he didn’t know about her past habits of disappearing. As if he didn’t remember how outrageously Grace had flirted with him, many times over. Boone had always handled her deftly, but of course, he knew. They all knew. In the past, when Grace was a teenager, Boone had even helped with several trips to the drug rehab clinic when Grace’s father needed a hand with her.

  Of course, that was years ago. And she’d settled down since then.

  They hung up and Anderson paced around the living room. His stomach rolled.

  Stay calm.

  Seven-thirty came and went.

  Eight.

  He ate a full plate of Chinese food to distract himself, feeling sick to his stomach.

  Where the hell is she?

  He tried her phone. Once. Twice. Ten times.

  At nine he began to panic for real.

  Had she been in an accident? He was about to start calling the hospitals when his phone rang. “Grace?” he blurted.

  “Stop calling me,” she hissed. “I’ll be home in a few days.”

  He almost stopped breathing. “Grace.”

  “What?”

  “Please. Come home.”

  “Not yet. Give me some space, Anderson.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m not saying.”

  “Please. At least tell me that.”

  “No. Just wait. I’ll call you when I need a ride.”

  “Grace.”

  “What?”

  “Why now? I thought… ”

  “I don’t know. It just happened. I’m sorry.”

  “Grace. This isn’t safe.”

  “I’m fine. I have to go. I’ll call you.”

  “Grace!”

  Silence.

  Anderson slumped into the armchair and dropped his phone to the floor.

  Not again. This can’t be happening again.

  Chapter 7

  Grace set her cell phone back on the chair next to the hot tub. Geez, Anderson had really ticked her off. Ten times. He’d called her ten freaking times. She powered off the phone, which she should have done earlier.

  Still naked, she pranced back to the water and slid in beside Chandler, picking up the fluted champagne glass she’d been sipping from before Anderson interrupted her. The idea of a mojito had gone by the wayside when she’d realized how excited she was to do this guy in the hot tub. The chilled champagne had suited her just fine.

  He hadn’t been the best lay in town, and those abs in the picture definitely weren’t what he looked like now. Had he faked the image? Or was it from ten years ago?

  She had to admit, she’d been a little disappointed. He’d been in too much of a rush. But that was pretty common with the guys she met. The first time was frantic, crazed, so fast she could barely keep up. But the next time—or hopefully, times with an ‘s’—would be slower and more luxurious.

  She reached under the water to see if he could rise to the occasion again. At least he had decidedly hefty equipment.

  “So. Who was that?” he said. “I thought your phone would get up and start dancing, it was going off so many times.”

  “I’m pretty popular,” she said with a grin.

  “Was it him? Your husband?”

  She froze and jerked him a little too hard. “No.”

  He let out a yelp. “Watch it. That’s tender tackle down there.”

  She giggled. �
�Sorry. Ready for another round?”

  She knew he wasn’t, but wanted to get his mind off Anderson.

  “Sure,” he lied. “Let’s check out the bedroom.”

  They dried off and wrapped up in white terry robes he grabbed from the shed near the hot tub, heading for the kitchen first to grab some food. Chandler leaned into the fridge. “How’s Havarti and sliced apples sound? These are a new variety called Snapdragon. Supposed to be excellent.”

  “Sure.” She twirled her hair and looked around. Strange how there were no personal photos on the fridge under magnets. No homey touches on the shelves or dangling from the windows. “Hmm.”

  He straightened and set the food on a tray. “Hmm, what?”

  “Nothing. It’s just so bare bones in here. You know. No photos. No clutter. Almost seems like a magazine layout rather than a real house.”

  He looked around as if noticing for the first time. “Um. Yeah. I guess. Denny’s not married anymore. He built this place after his wife dumped him.”

  “Oh?” she leaned over to peek in the oven. “Spotless. Either he’s got one helluva cleaning lady, or he never cooks.”

  Chandler ushered her away from the kitchen. “Don’t worry about him. He’s out of the country for the whole summer.”

  “Nice,” she said, nodding her approval at the enormous crystal chandelier hanging over the curving stairway.

  But he wasn’t looking at the décor. He was staring at her with hunger again. “You’re nicer.”

  She laughed. “Flattery will get you… ”

  He raised his eyebrows. “What?”

  “Well,” she purred. She slid out of her robe and dropped it on the railing, waltzing slowly up the stairs ahead of him. “Let’s go upstairs and find out.”

  Chapter 8

  Anderson couldn’t sleep. He stared at the clock. Three-thirty in the morning.

  Damn her.

  Maybe this time he wouldn’t be so understanding, so forgiving. Maybe this time he’d leave her. Let her deal with her rotten flaws all by herself.

  Or, maybe not.