Page 7 of Deceive Me
“No!” Smith’s eyes went saucer wide. “No, we can wait. Work up a plan. Get—”
Chicken noises came from Saint. Smith glared back at him, her look promising evil things the minute Deacon or their boss weren’t present. Deacon hoped the man had a good lock on his locker, though even that might not help if Deacon was any judge of character. And he was. Spitfire was beginning to feel like a pretty mild description for this female firecracker.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Deacon couldn’t resist saying. Elliot Smith obviously wasn’t looking forward to her assignment, although he got the feeling it wasn’t distaste so much as fear that was behind the attitude. If he had to guess, he’d say her experience with children was severely limited. The thought of seeing her out of her element had anticipation sparking inside him. “Jack, would you call for Sydney?”
Jack stood and crossed to his desk. Deacon heard him chuckle along the way.
Smith crossed her arms and fumed. His attention dropped immediately to the delectable mounds pushed high by the position. Heat tightened his cock behind his zipper, and Deacon let himself enjoy it for a moment. When had he last taken the time to savor desire, hunger? Long before Julia’s death. He’d been deployed, and despite what others might find acceptable, he’d remained faithful while away from his wife. Then her illness—she’d lasted no more than a few weeks after his return, the cancer already well advanced by then. Since her death, he’d been focused on grieving and work and Sydney. Women hadn’t been even a blip on his radar other than as quick fantasy fodder in the shower.
And this one definitely shouldn’t be on his radar. They would be working together, not sleeping together. Still, knowing that part of him hadn’t been buried with his wife was something of a relief.
The arrival of his daughter moments later helped smack down his libido, at least a little bit. Sydney was holding the executive assistant’s hand when they entered the room. The minute she saw him, she broke away on a run. “Daddy! Guess what we did?”
Deacon scooped her up when she reached him. Settling her on his lap, he smoothed her dark hair back from her face with his free hand. “What did you do?”
“We played with a puppy.” Sydney practically quivered with excitement.
Uh-oh. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” she replied smartly. “His name was Tebasterand. No… Sed— Um.” She glanced back to Lori. “What was his name again?”
“Sebastian.” An indulgent smile curved Lori’s mouth.
“Right.” Sydney turned back to him. “Sebastiton.”
Deacon chuckled at the butchered name. “Right.”
“He was so soft, and he licked me, right here.” She pointed at her cheek. “I love him, Daddy.” Imploring green eyes caught his, so similar to her mother’s that Deacon felt a catch in his chest. “Can we get a puppy?”
He barely held back a groan. “Now where would that leave Katie, huh?” He palmed the ragged stuffed-animal kitten Sydney carried everywhere. He had to sneak it from her bed after she fell asleep at night just to wash it. “She wouldn’t want to share you, would she?”
Syd contemplated the kitten with a seriousness far beyond her years. “I guess not.”
Movement nearby pulled his daughter’s attention from her best friend to Elliot Smith. The woman approached as if Sydney were a wild animal she didn’t quite know how to handle—one that might bite at any moment. Deacon did his best to hide his amusement, but from the lethal look she shot his way, he wasn’t succeeding.
“Sydney, I’d like you to meet some people.” He settled her on her feet next to him and turned her gently to face the room.
Sydney eyed the men intently as each was introduced, but when it came to Smith, her face lit up. She left his side immediately to approach the petite woman. “Your name is Smith? That’s weird. Like Walsh. I’m Sydney Walsh. Is it like that?”
Smith crouched to bring herself eye level with Sydney. A quick glance over at Deacon for approval amused him even more. He gave her a nod that visibly relaxed her tense muscles.
“Well, Smith is my last name like Walsh is your last name. You can call me Elliot.”
“That’s a boy’s name.”
“It can be,” Deacon gently corrected. “Not always.”
“Like my name’s a city?” Sydney asked.
“Yes.”
Sydney looked at him, then at Elliot. “Cool!”
Elliot smiled. The curve of her lips caught Deacon’s attention. He wanted her to lick that lower lip and let him see it wet.
“Daddy? Daddy?”
Reminding himself he wasn’t alone, he clasped Sydney’s tapping fingers and curled them in his. “What, Little Bit?”
