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He kissed the top of her head. “I know that. But I feel you have no idea what you are up against.”
*****
With the cigar clamped between his teeth, he concentrated fiercely on the card game. He had done a strenuous workout in his gym and gone several laps in the pool before heading out for the club.
The fact that he had been tempted to call and see if she was home had him turning off his phone and tossing it in the back seat of his pickup truck. He had elected to drive himself to the club instead of calling his driver. He had also brought work to carry him through the night as he had decided to spend the night.
“Put that out, Manchester; the scent is distracting us.” He roused himself from contemplating the cards he held to look at the man who had spoken.
Joseph Mangrove was a long-time member and a resident asshole who made it his duty to hassle the other members. He also boasted that he descended from a long line of aristocrats and that his ancestors had been club members since its inception.
He did not hide that he did not approve of the ‘new money’ members as he chose to call the ones who had been given membership due to their change in status. It did not matter to him that his wealth had depleted over the years, and he was merely a member because of his history.
“Anyone else offended by the smoking on the patio?” Deacon asked, looking around the table at the other men who shook their heads.
“Well, it is bothering me,” Joseph whined. “I am allergic to second-hand smoke, and this is a no-smoking area.”
“We are in the open, so that’s not an issue. But here.” Taking the cigar out of his mouth, Deacon put out the flame and dropped it into the crystal ashtray. “We would not want you to drop dead right here at the table, even though you happen to be holding a losing hand.”
The man’s sallow complexion flushed with anger as he glared at Deacon. “You cannot see my hand from where you are sitting.”
“You are lousy at poker, Mangrove, and tend to sweat when losing. Why don’t you do yourself a favor and back out gracefully before you lose money you cannot afford to?”
The light green eyes flashed, and his thin mouth tightened.
“You think you are such a big shot, don’t you? Just because of your ill-gotten gain while we work to make an honest living. You don’t belong here- “
“Mangrove!” Another player snapped, causing the man to swivel his head around. “Either play the game or get the hell away from the table. You are holding us up.”
Shoving his chair back from the table, his face mottled with anger, he slapped his cards down and stalked away.
“Good riddance.” Another player muttered, looking over at Deacon. “I dare say he is going to management to complain.”
“I dare say.”
*****
After her brother left, she sat on the swing, a frown knitting her brow. She had told David she knew what she was doing but was unsure. Her body was yearning for him, and she could visualize them sitting on the swing, rocking back and forth.
His arms would be around her, and she would be lying or half lying on his lap. It was private enough for them to just simply take off their clothes and make love right here in the open. Afterward, they would go upstairs to start all over again.
The image had warmed her for a few minutes before reality came crashing back. This would not be a fairytale ending for her and Deacon Manchester. He was a tough man who had been through a horrible past that had hardened him and turned him into an embittered man.
It was going to be a long, uphill battle to get past the defenses he had put up to get to the heart of him, but she was fully invested now. And she was smart enough to realize that there was something between them—especially the last lovemaking where he had gathered her into his arms in a tight embrace.
Staring up at the ceiling, she wrapped her arms around herself and wondered where he was.
*****
Putting away the contract he had been trying to concentrate on, Deacon lunged and walked over to the cabinet in the corner of the room to pour himself a scotch. He left the card game after the second round, pleading exhaustion, which was partly true.
He had not gotten much sleep last night, and this morning, he had hit the gym and the pool to try and get her out of his mind. It had worked for a spell, but he could not stop thinking about her alone in the room assigned to him.
He did not even have to close his eyes to remember the mole at the apex of her left thigh. He was familiar with the texture of her lips, the way her eyes turned golden when the passion was high between them.
He could feel her tightness wrapped around him – he frowned at that, the memories crashing back – he had made love to her without using anything. He had never done anything like that before, and it bothered him.
After the fiasco with Janice, he had been deliberate and purposeful about using protection, never taking the woman’s word that she was on something. He had trust issues for obvious reasons. But with her, he had lost his head and loved her without using anything.
