Deception. Donna Hill

Terri was certain that she heard fireworks erupt in the background.

      The velvet warmth of his lips gently brushed over hers, taunting, tempting her with what was to come.

      And it came.

      The fire of his tongue played across her mouth as he spread his fingers through her twisted mane, pulling her completely against his hungry mouth.

      Instinctively her lips parted and the tip of his tongue played teasing games, exploring her mouth, sending jolts of current surging through her.

      He moaned against her lips, a deep carnal sound that vibrated to her center. Terri felt the heat race through her limbs as his fingers traced the pulse that pounded in her throat.

      She wanted to scream when he pulled his mouth away from her lips, only to plant wet, hot kisses across her face, down her neck. Then he let his tongue play havoc in her ear, and every fiber of her body ignited.

      “Clint…” She trembled against him.

      A tingle of excitement ran through her as his hand trailed down the curve of her back, pulling her closer, caressing her, causing her body to arch, her rounded breasts to press against his chest, and he knew he would go out of his mind.

      “I want you, Terri,” he groaned in her ear.

      His mouth covered hers again, his tongue slashing against hers, demanding, urgent.

      Her arms tightened around his hard muscular frame. She stroked the strong tendons of his neck, the outline of his chest. She felt as if she was falling, spinning weightless through space, and she never wanted the feeling to end. But she knew it had to stop. The door to her past was still ajar, and until she could empty it fully, no one else could enter.

      His mind spun in a maelstrom of confusion. What was he doing? This was not part of the plan for his life. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, to want her from the depth of his being. His body ached to be a part of hers. But he couldn’t do this to her. She was sure to think that he was just trying to romance her in order to get her to agree to the deal. He wanted her to want him for the right reasons, or not at all.

      As if reading each other’s minds, slowly they pulled away—each trying to control the shudders that ripped through them.

      “I…I’m sorry.” He stroked her cheek. “I didn’t—”

      “It’s okay, Clint,” Terri stuttered, breathless and in awe of what had almost taken place.

      He gently pulled her into his embrace, fighting back the desires that wrestled to engulf him.

      “I won’t rush you, Terri,” he whispered in a ragged breath. “As much as I may want to,” he added with a soft smile.

      She touched his lips with her own. “Thank you,” she whispered.

      Reluctantly he rose from the couch. “I’d better go.” He smiled mischievously down at her, mimicking an old Western movie. “I cain’t guarantee your honor, m’am, if’n I stay.”

      Terri released a shaky laugh and stood up in front of him. She slipped her arms around his waist, looking up into his eyes.

      “Then I’d say you’d better mosey on outta here, mister,” she teased, matching his parody.

      He held her for a long moment, burying his face in her hair, his confusion complete. Then he released her.

      “I’ll get your coat,” she offered.

      At the doorway Terri felt ridiculously like a teenager on her first date. Her nerves rattled, and her heart was pounding so loud she just knew Clint could hear every beat.

      “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.

      “I’d like that.”

      Clint leaned down and brushed her lips. The contact was too brief and he wanted more. Pulling her into his arms he kissed her fully, her own desire matching his every rhythm.

      He eased away. “I’ve got to go,” he said, his voice thick with desire. He started to leave, then turned back. “You’ll be happy to know that I’ve found another advertising agency to do the work. So now there’s no more business to interfere.” His dark eyes bored into hers. “This is purely personal. The rest is up to you.” He turned away, never looking back to see the expression of astonished relief spread across her face.

      As if on a cloud, Terri glided back into the living room, a smile of contentment lighting her face as she replayed his final words. This is purely personal.

      She changed the CD, replacing Miles Davis with Kenny G. Crossing the living room, she walked down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. Mechanically she turned on the tub water, adding her favorite bubble bath. Soon the herbal aroma filled the room, and her weary body nearly screamed for relief. Piece by piece she stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the steamy water.

      Terri sank into the tub, the bubbles coming up to her chin. She closed her eyes, letting the steam envelop her, and a picture of Clint sprang to life before her eyes—and she trembled.

      His mouth seemed to caress every part of her body, kneading all of the aches away. A soft moan of remembrance filtered through her lips, and she silently wished that he was there with her.

      She felt the slow, steady warming that spread through her body and knew that it had nothing to do with the steaming water. And she wondered what it would have been like making love with Clint. How soon, if ever, would she know?

      After a fantasy-filled half hour, Terri finally curled up into bed, sinking into the comfort of the freshly washed sheets. She reached for the book of poetry she kept by her nightstand, determined to ease away the last vestiges of tension and images of Clint.

      Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, the ringing of the phone jarred her back to consciousness.

      Annoyance replaced curiosity as she drowsily reached for the intrusive instrument.

      “Hello?” she mumbled.

      “Terri, it’s me, Lisa.”

      “Lisa,” she groaned. “It’s late.”

      “I know. But I got the info you wanted. I thought you’d be interested.”

      Terri sat straight up in her bed. Please let it be good.

      “Your Mr. Steele is, anonymously, one of the biggest individual benefactors that the Gateway Foundation has.”

      Chapter 5

      The morning sun was barely up in the sky when Clint rose from his bed. He’d spent a torturous night, reliving what almost was. More times than he cared to count he’d reached for the phone to dial Terri’s number. Each time, halfway through dialing, he’d hung up. The next move was Terri’s. He’d put his cards on the table.

      Pulling on a terry-cloth robe he padded across the bedroom and opened his dresser drawer. Rifling through his possessions, he pulled out a cutoff T-shirt and an old pair of shorts. Crossing to the closet, he selected a navy blue sweat suit and a pair of sneakers. Usually a brisk run around the park revitalized him and cleared his head.

      An hour later he lay sprawled across his king-size bed, drenched in perspiration from his morning jog. His frustration was still alive and well.

      Staring up at the stucco ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head, a slow smile of acceptance spread across his face. Terri was under his skin to stay, and no amount of jogging was going to change it.

      Terri strode down the office corridor, looking neither left nor right. How could she have been so narrow-minded and gullible to be taken in by rumors and speculation? She should have gone along with her instincts in the first place. She smiled ruefully. There was no way that her senses could have been that far off base if they went into crisis every time she thought of Clint.

      She closed her office door with a thud, tossing her briefcase on the desk, her coat shortly