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Bittersweet
Obsessions
BY
Annie Rayburn
EXCERPT
The changes that built within her body were subtle at first, so subtle Teriza initially dismissed them as everyday appreciation for an attractive man. First, a prickle of awareness slid over her when the tall landscape architect strode into the conference room of his firm. Nothing unusual in that except her heart suddenly leapt into marathon mode as he approached the large table.
His wife, Sallie smiled. “Deacon, this is our prospective client, Teriza Hamilton.”
There was a slight emphasis on her surname that had Teriza thinking Sallie might as well have added of the Atlanta Hamiltons. Then again, maybe she’d imagined it.
“Ms. Hamilton.” He nodded at her due to the expanse of table between them, and she was grateful she wouldn’t have to stand on weakened knees. “It’s a pleasure. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
Health and confidence radiated from him. It was in his purposeful step, his tan and the directness of his silver-gray eyes. She liked self-assurance in a man, but it didn’t usually make her pulse race enough to bring on lightheadedness. How odd. “Teriza, please, and the feeling is mutual. I’ve heard good things about your company.”
“Only good?” Deacon grinned and Teriza stared, transfixed. His face was both strong and caring, not craggy-tough, but he was no metro sexual male either. That was no fake-bake tan and those hands had seen manual labor. He obviously wasn’t content to stand on the sidelines and issue orders. She could easily imagine him working outdoors with soil and trees and that mulchy stuff. “We aim to exceed our customer’s expectations.”
“Deacon, really.” Sallie reproached him, her cheeks a pretty pink.
A pleasant, manly scent filled Teriza’s lungs. Her skin warmed. The heat spread outward to places it had no business going. Holy planets, she had to get a grip here. “I like what I’ve seen of your work so far, enough that I’m willing to have you bid on the project. The grounds are fairly large and in need of a complete update, I’m afraid. Did you have a chance to drive by the property and assess the possibility of a waterfall?”
He averted his gaze and jotted something on a yellow legal pad. She mourned the loss of the connection. A slight flush suffused her skin and her breathing deepened. But when the throbbing started between her legs and she couldn’t look anywhere but at him, Teriza knew she was experiencing a phenomenon unique to her race, the Crainesian life-mate call.
No, that couldn’t be right, could it?
Her ears buzzed in alarm. She had trouble concentrating. Separately, each change might have meant nothing significant, but for a Crainesian woman, the sum drew a very precise picture. Either she was having some sort of breakdown or Deacon Styles was her life-mate.
This man whom she’d intended to have completely redesign the grounds of the estate she’d inherited from her grandmom, the married man sitting across the table from her and next to his wife was sending out strong, life-mate pheromones in waves. And it appeared her own untried receptors were on high alert. But this was all wrong.
What should she do? Stay, leave? Was it the same for him? Did he sense her return waves? Had his wife noticed anything? Teriza took a deep, bracing breath to calm her nerves and forced her gaze to the pretty redhead, hoping the reality of the situation would calm her racing pulse. Even the adoring look Sallie gave her husband had no effect on the building desire within Teriza. Just because the woman loved Deacon didn’t mean he felt the same way. Teriza’s gaze fastened on Deacon again, as if a powerful magnet pulled it there.
A tiny frown came and went between his brows as he spoke of several shrubs that would work for the perimeter of her property. He ran a finger beneath his collar and tiny beads of sweat appeared on his brow. ‘This is crazy. I can’t want this woman so much, even if she is gorgeous. I’m married.’
Teriza heard his telepathic transmission without any filter whatsoever, as a child might transmit. Gods of the universe, it was true. He was her one and only life-mate.
She forced a nod and smoothed one brow, as if she contemplated what he’d said previously, when the reality was that the very sound of his voice resonated in her soul. Who could concentrate on such a mundane conversation at such an important moment, one that had been repeated for centuries?
Relocating from a dying Crainesia to Earth decades ago hadn’t affected that very elemental, physical phenomenon which insured the future of their race, nor the heart-glow that properly mated Crainys achieved during lovemaking. Other than minor physical characteristics here and there, such as honeyed skin and pointed earlobes, they fitted into the Human population and were as accepted as any other immigrant now. Interracial marriages such as Deacon and Sallie’s weren’t unheard of. Sure it had taken some initial adjustments on the part of both races, but they coexisted fairly well these days.
Maybe the Styles didn’t have a happy union. Maybe there was a chance. ‘Smart Crainesians don’t marry before their life-mate finds them.’ She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, her thoughts projecting before she could rein them in. ‘Damn it, why didn’t you wait for me?’
He looked as shocked as he might have if she’d reached across the table and smacked him. ‘Y-you heard me. I can’t believe this. I was never trained in mindcom.’
‘Well, you’re doing fine now,’ she volleyed back, frustrated because he hadn’t answered the question.
His frown reappeared. ‘Get out of my head.’
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Red Sage Publishing, Inc. © 2011 All Rights Reserved
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