The Perfect Deception (11 page)

N
athan bopped up the steps, humming a tune. Dressed nice, smelling good, gifts in hand. He was more than ready for him and Jessica to get back in the groove.

The door opened. “Hello.”

“Hello, Jessica.” He held out a large bouquet. “These are for you.”

She stepped back. “Come on in. You smell nice. These are nice, too.” Closing the door, she took the flowers and inhaled their fragrance. “You didn’t have to buy me flowers.”

“I know. I wanted to. The week we’ve been apart and not talked, two weeks really, has seemed like forever.”

His expression was sincere as he gave her an appreciative once-over. His eyes said what his voice did not.
A shame for a woman to make jeans and a tee look so good.
She stared back. He saw the hesitation and vulnerability in her eyes, and vowed to change that.

“Let me get a vase for these flowers.” Walking toward the kitchen, she spoke over her shoulder. “Would you like something to drink?”

He followed her. “Sure. What do you have?”

She gave him a list of choices.

“What are you having?”

“Orange juice. I uh . . . hear colds and flu are up this year. So I’m trying to stay healthy.”

“Then fix me that, too. But add a shot of Hennessy.”

“Okay. While I’m fixing our drinks, would you mind finding something on the iPod?”

“Not at all.What are you in the mood for?”

“I don’t know. Pick something.”

He walked out. Jessica quickly reached under the cabinet.
Darn it. I should have put this in another container.
She made a mental note to pour the antifreeze into one of the plastic bottles in her recycle bin. A gallon jug of it next to the orange juice on the counter was not a good look. She poured a small amount into a glass. Drake’s silky vocals oozed from the speakers. Footsteps quickened across the hardwood floor.

“What about something with a party groove?” The words came out in a rush as shaky hands worked to replace the cap on the antifreeze and put the container back out of sight. A brief moment of silence then Prince began jamming about a rock and roll love affair.

“How’s that?”

“Um . . . let me hear a little bit.” Jessica quickly dropped several ice cubes into the glass with the antifreeze, followed by a generous splash of Hennessy. She sniffed. The odor was pungent and sickly sweet.
Not too bad.
“That sounds good.” After pouring the orange juice, she quickly stirred the concoction until the liquid in the glass looked creamy orange.

A gasp flew out as Nathan’s arms came around her waist. “Nate! I didn’t hear your footsteps.”

“I wanted to surprise you. Wasn’t sure if I asked that I’d get a hug.”

She turned around, working on a calm, nonchalant look. But just in case fear filled her eyes, she stepped into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder.

He kissed the top of her head. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Wow, baby. Your heart is beating so fast.”

“Is it?” An innocently asked question when the answer was banging out a staccato rhythm against her rib cage. Save for sheer determination and muscle control, her legs would be shaking like bamboo in the wind.

Nathan rubbed his hands across her back, neck, and shoulders. “You’re tight, too.” He gently set her away from him, looked deep into her eyes. “Is everything okay?”

Willing herself to meet his eyes, she answered. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know.” He stared into her eyes, kneaded her shoulders. Stared for another long moment during which time Jessica’s legs almost began shaking again.

She broke their embrace, turned and placed ice cubes and fresh orange juice into a glass, then gave him his drink. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” He took a sip. “Damn, baby!”

“What?”
Can he taste it? I’ve been busted so soon?
Eyes grew wide, stomach dropped, heart felt it would beat out of her chest.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Her shoulders sagged in relief. “I’m sorry, didn’t taste it. Is it too strong?”

“I guess it’s all right. Especially since you’re trying to weaken my defenses and take advantage of me.”

“Filling you with liquor, that’s what it takes?”

“You know better than that. Stone-cold sober and I’ll be all over you. I want that right now. I want us to be us again. But it’s not just my decision. Where we go from here is up to both of us.”

Jessica took his hand and headed into the living room. They sat on the couch. She nestled against his chest. He placed an arm around her. Sipping and serenading filled the next moments as a myriad of thoughts and inner dialogue plagued both of their minds.

The song ended. Another, slower one began. A jazzy instrumental with a haunting, provocative beat. “I want us again,” she said softly.

A gentle squeeze from his strong arm was her reply. She ran a lazy finger up and down his forearm, tracing the strong vein that ran down it, feeling the soft skin and fine hair against her fingers. “For the most part, my life has been filled with uncertainty. I’ve been alone, and have had to survive largely on my own. It’s hard for me to open up, very hard to trust. Something about you made it easier. I felt secure, you know?

“Down on the island, when you sided with Sherri, I once again felt isolated and on my own. Anger is a defense, a way to cover hurt and fear. So I lashed out. Once back here, I closed up. Harder to get your heart broken with a wall around it. So that’s why I suggested time apart. To build up that wall.”

A plaintive saxophone mirrored her words, bass guitar and cymbals riding the notes. Nathan reached for his glass. She heard him take a long, slow drink, and then another one. “It’s been a long time since I’ve mixed Hennessy. I usually drink it straight. But this is growing on me.”

“It doesn’t seem so strong now?”

“The more I drink, the less I taste the alcohol. Of course, that’s probably because I’m getting drunk.” He set down the glass. “A couple guys in my office have gotten sick. I’ll have to get some orange juice.”

“I have an extra carton you can have if you want.”

“You do?”

She sat up, her legs crossed beneath her. “There was a two-for-one sale. I’ll give you one.”

“I don’t want to take the extra one you bought to stay healthy.”

“Fine. I’ll give you the one that’s opened and partly gone. How about that?”

“I guess that’s all right.”

“Good. I want to keep you healthy, too.”

“Careful. You’re about to sound like you care for me.”

Their eyes met. “I do.”

He reached for her hand and began rubbing it, his thumbs gliding up and down her palm. He looked down, tracing her fingers with his own, interlocking their hands, then releasing. His touch caused goose bumps and squiggles. Her thighs clenched. This time her legs were trembling for a totally different reason.

“I’ve apologized for what happened at Christmas. Given the chance, I would handle things differently. But what has already happened can’t be taken back. I can only say I’m sorry, which I am, and work to next time be a better man.”

His words were tear-worthy. Heartfelt and sincere. Sissy swore there was a side of Nathan he kept well hidden; a cold, heartless soul that could flip emotions at will. She said Nathan and Sherri were closer than twins, and that no other woman would trump her place in his heart.

“No matter what he tells you,” she’d warned, “no matter how good it feels, you’ll never,
ever
be number one in his life. His sister, Sherri, will always stand between you and that hope. You may be his girlfriend, but you’ll never mean more to him than his family.”

Dispirited, she reached for her juice.

“So has this been enough?”

“What?” Her voice was low and breathy as she became intoxicated without one drop of cognac. No. Her high came courtesy of Nathan Carver: his scent, touch, voice, presence. Whatever else happened, Jessica knew that this two-week stint of celibacy was about to be over.

“This time apart. You say you’ve missed me. Has it been long enough for you to know for sure that you want us back together?”

She nodded.

“I didn’t hear that.”

“Yes, Nathan.” Her expression was part smile, part smirk, and part something else that Nathan couldn’t quite name. “I’ve already said as much. I want us back together.”

Once again, he pulled her into his arms. “That’s just what I wanted to hear. Especially now that I’m a part of my company’s executive arm.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I got promoted to vice president.”

“Really? Baby, that’s . . . great . . . really.”

His look became curious. “You sure about that?”

“Of course I am. Congratulations.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in. The kiss soon became caressing, which quickly turned to groping hands and shedding clothes. They moved to the bedroom and made slow, hot love, reacquainting their bodies with each other—licking, kissing, stroking, thrusting—filling the room with the scent of their longing. Once, and again, they loved. That night and the next morning they again satisfied one another.

After heading out for a hearty breakfast Nathan returned Jessica to her home, French-kissed her good-bye, and left smiling and happy . . . with his carton of juice.

F
ood poisoning? It had to be. That’s the only explanation Nathan could fathom for stomach cramps, excessive thirst, and regurgitating everything he’d eaten in the past five hours.

It started last night, at Jessica’s house. He didn’t say anything. That would have ruined the mood. After their first round of lovemaking, he’d asked Jessica for another drink—straight orange juice this time. Later, his stomach felt queasy, a rarity. He chalked it up to that strong first drink on a near-empty stomach. Before leaving for breakfast, Jessica made tea. Her domestic gestures were as appreciated as they were unusual. A tad too sweet for his liking, but aware of her good intentions he drank it right down. A subtle rumbling after breakfast, but it soon went away. For lunch, he’d met his friend Stephen for barbecue and beer.With plans to meet Jessica for a late dinner and movie, he’d fixed a turkey sandwich with tomato and mayo and downed it with a tall, cold glass of orange juice. Less than an hour later and he was praying to the porcelain god.

After waiting a moment, making sure he was done, he slowly got off the floor, rinsed his mouth, brushed his teeth, and covered his face with a cold, wet towel. He couldn’t believe how bad he’d felt before stumbling into the bathroom.
I haven’t been sick in years!
Placing a hand on his stomach, he took a deep breath and waited. Yes, he felt better now. Maybe the worse was over. He sank onto the couch, gave himself a few more minutes to regroup, then reached for the phone.

“Hey, babe. It’s me.”

“Nate? What’s the matter?” The concern in Jessica’s voice came through the phone. “You don’t sound good.”

“I’ve felt better.”

“What happened?”

“Food poisoning, I think. Have you felt sick today?”

“Come to think of it, I did feel something earlier. But it went away.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten sausage for breakfast and ribs at lunch.”

“I’ve heard too much pork is not good for you.”

“Hey, I like pig. Have eaten it all my life and this never happened before. So earlier, you felt nauseous?”

“Just a little.”

“Maybe it was the ribs. But I think this started coming on last night.”

“While you were here?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you. Plus, it went away.”

“It might be stomach flu. A couple of my coworkers have been sick with that or bad colds. That’s why I started drinking more orange juice and tea. I hope I don’t have the bug and passed it to you.”

“If you had whatever I’ve got, you’d know it. Just threw up my insides. Thought my intestines were going to come out.”

“Eww.”

“Too much information? Sorry about that. At least I feel better. Not up to going out though. I hope you understand.”

“Nate, don’t apologize for being sick. Of course I understand. More than that, I sympathize.”

He heard a rattling noise in the background. “What are you doing?”

“Getting up, and closing the magazine I was reading. I’m coming over.”

“Jessica, you don’t have to do that. I’m okay.”

“I know I don’t have to. But I want to. Give me an hour or so. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

 

Jessica nibbled her bottom lip as she paced the floor. Nathan was sick. The antifreeze had definitely worked and the arsenic poured into the container she gave him probably led to today’s vomiting episode.
Should I give him more or back off for now?
Decisions, decisions. She retrieved the burner phone from inside her purse and sent a quick text. Hopefully her sister would reply.

 

Day 1. It’s working. More now or wait?

 

She waited about a minute, then tossed the phone on the couch and headed to the kitchen. Placing the recipe she’d printed out on the counter, she went to the fridge and pulled out the frozen vegetables and the roasted chicken breast she’d purchased at the store. From the cabinets came canned tomatoes, chicken broth, a package of noodles, and the soup mix seasoning. She placed everything on the counter and rechecked the list of ingredients.

Forgot to buy an onion and garlic. Oh, well.
She’d have to make do with what she had and hope it tasted good. For her, going to the grocery was in itself an alien experience and walking the produce aisle like a trip to the moon.

“Okay,” she murmured, scrolling down the screen for instructions. “Cook meat until tender.” She looked at the perfectly roasted chicken breast. “That’s already done. What’s next? Add tomatoes, vegetables, noodles, and seasoning. Bring to a boil. Simmer for ten minutes.” She took a breath. Sounded easy enough. Time for execution.

As the concoction simmered, her burner phone rang. She rushed to answer it. “Sissy?”

“Who else?” was the dry reply.

“I know.” Jessica breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad you called back. I don’t know what to do next. And I’m trying to make this soup but don’t know if I’m doing it right. I forgot the garlic and onions and it tastes kind of bland. I don’t think—”

“Good. Don’t think. Just listen. Take small steps, every few days. The vitamins will build up over time. Understand?”

“So I shouldn’t do any more tonight?”

“Just a little, but not too much. We want to keep his . . . energy . . . at a certain level, but we don’t want him to become overly alarmed. Got it?”

“I guess so.”

“You sure? I want you to feel confident, so if you have questions, ask.”

“How long until, you know, it happens?”

“I’m thinking a couple months.”

“That long? How can I watch him suffer all that time?”

“By remembering how much time I’ve got in here. Toughen up, Jessie. We’re in this together. I’ve got your back. And once we’re together again, it will have all been worth it. Anything for the sistership.”

Jessica smiled at the word Sissy had once used to describe their bond. She straightened her back and repeated, “Anything for the sistership.”

“Now, about that soup . . .”

A short time later Jessica rang Nathan’s bell. He was slow to answer, and when he did it was with bloodshot eyes and a wrinkled shirt. “Hey, baby.” His voice was hoarse and gravelly. “I fell asleep.” He stepped back for her to enter, looking at the tote she carried. “What’s all that?”

“Stuff to make you feel better,” she replied, passing his living room and continuing on to the kitchen.

He followed. “When did you become Miss Suzy Homemaker?”

“Ha! That’s a stretch. But I do like the thought of being able to care for you. Plus, one morning in the Bahamas, I came downstairs early to find your mom in the kitchen. She was fixing something, oatmeal I think or . . .”

“Probably grits.”

“Yes! I think that’s it. She looked so peaceful stirring at the stove. I asked her if she liked cooking. She said she loved it; told me it sometimes relieved her stress and gave her time to think. What she said that I liked most was that cooking was a way to show love. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Really?” Nate walked toward her, backing her up against the counter. “You love me now?”

She nodded.

“I can’t hear that.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

She looked at him through lowered lashes, her head tilted shyly. “Yes . . . I do.”

Nathan chuckled. “Trying not to pass those three little words through your lips, huh?” He walked over to where the tote sat on the island. “That’s okay. This shows you love me.” He reached inside. “Ow! This is hot!”

Jessica strolled over and gave him a look. “That’s what you get for being nosy.” She reached for a dish towel and carefully pulled out the plastic container.

“Is that soup?” Nate’s face looked as surprised as his voice sounded.

“Yes, Nate, chicken noodle and vegetable soup.” She took off the lid. Steam carried the scent to Nathan’s nose.

He inhaled. “And you made it?” Incredulity took his voice up an octave.

“Geez, don’t act so shocked.”

“I am shocked.” They laughed.

She pulled out the remaining items. “Between all of this and my TLC, you’re going to get better.”

Nathan pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. “Jessica Bolton, I might get used to this.”

“Is that so,” she purred.

“It is. And if that happens, I just might have to make things official to keep you around.”

Again, he enveloped her in his arms, squeezed her tight, and kissed her temple. Jessica was glad he’d made that move. Not good for him to see her cry. She swiped away a single tear, and hugged him back.