Indecent Proposition Read online

  Indecent Proposition

  Celeste Anwar

  New Concepts Publishing (2011)

  * * *

  As dull as it was Alana’s life was peaceful, and she liked it that way. At least it was peaceful until the delivery of the little packet that contained a nude picture of her, taken years ago by the one man she could never forget—the man whose life she’d ruined.

  INDECENT PROPOSITION

  By

  Celeste Anwar

  © copyright by Celeste Anwar, October 2010

  Cover Art by Eliza Black, October 2010

  ISBN 978-1-60394-462-5

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Chapter One

  I know what you did that summer. Does your daddy know?

  Sudden chills raced up her spine, prickling the back of her neck. Alana Laroche stared down at the note she'd received in an envelope unmarked by a return address, then at the Polaroid picture that had been included for emphasis.

  Had it not been for the picture, she'd have thought this some joke done up by the locals just to get under her skin. But she'd pushed the images out of her mind for years….

  Swaths of white belly and dimpled thighs swam into her view before she closed her eyes against the rising nausea. It was one of the tamer ones.

  How many were there? Who could have gotten them?

  A cold sweat beaded her brow. She swiped it with the back of her hand, sinking back in her office chair to stare at the note.

  It couldn't be him. He'd gone to prison and would be there for a very long time. Daddy had made sure of that. Then who?

  There was nothing other than a taunt indicated on the note--no demand for money. She'd have to sit back and wait for them to contact her.

  She picked up the items, shoving them back into the envelope and then into her desk, underneath the phonebook and some other papers. Hopefully, no one would snoop in her things.

  Alana shuddered as the air conditioner turned on and blew cold air over her damp skin. She was getting worked up over nothing. She was a grown woman now. She couldn't give in to scare tactics, or expect anyone to deal with this for her.

  No, it would be best if no one found out about this. Alan Laroche was up for reelection this year. Something like this could ruin his chances. No doubt that was the culprit's intentions. To drag up the past, run her name through the mud just to get at her father. More than anything, she didn't want to see something like that show up in the newspapers. She'd just have to wait and see what would happen. Maybe, just maybe, this time she'd get through without any lasting damage besides a dent in her savings.

  Alana logged online to her bank account, checking what money she had in the reserves. She'd been saving for a house of her own, instead of renting, but that might be a few more years in the future now. She hoped she wouldn't be wiped out. The very idea was enough to send her into a depression, but she fought off the morose feelings. She wouldn't know anything for sure until, or if, she was contacted again. Maybe nothing would happen at all.

  Alana sighed, logging out and stretching her neck to each side to release some built up tension. It was lunch time, and as much as she hadn't felt like eating before, her stomach had started grumbling and making its demands known.

  She grabbed her purse and headed out of her office. Daddy had rented office space downtown, which left everything she needed in short walking distance. She went to the mom and pop diner on the corner that she had lunch at nearly every day--except those times when she was really making an effort to get her weight under control.

  She should be eating tuna fish and fruit salad today--she'd brought her own lunch--but the diety stuff just held no appeal for her this time. She needed something akin to home cooking, and ordered a country fried steak dinner with mashed potatoes once she was seated at a booth.

  Alana watched the people rushing by outside the diner's windows, sipping on her iced tea and trying to keep her mind off the note and the picture.

  It wouldn't be so bad if the pictures were at least flattering. She'd always hated getting her picture taken. What insanity had possessed her to do something like that of all things? She knew what, or rather, who, but she didn't want to think about that right now. It brought up too many painful memories that she'd worked hard at suppressing. Besides, she'd never been one to dwell on what if, or what might have been. Better to focus on the here and now, however shitty here and now might be….

  A phone rang in the background, barely audible above the din of customers talking and eating. Dinnerware tinkled, plates clacked--creating a general noise that she found oddly comforting in its everyday ordinariness.

  A waitress ran to the back to get the phone and answered, "Racine's Diner" then listened for a minute. She looked right at Alana, nodded as if she was listening to someone give her instructions, then draped the phone above the cradle before coming to her table.

  The waitress propped her hand on her hip, looking down at her. "You have a phone call."

  Alana stared at her blankly, setting her tea down and wiping the condensation from her drink onto a paper napkin. Who'd call her here? Everyone knew when she took lunch she didn't want to be disturbed. It was the one thing she'd managed to drill into the staff's heads. And if it was someone from work, why didn't they just call her cell phone? She checked her phone quickly to see if she'd forgotten to turn on the ringer and missed a call. She hadn't. "Me? Are you sure?"

  The waitress nodded. "Described you to a T."

  Alana wrinkled her forehead and stood, following the waitress to the phone. She picked up the receiver and put it to her ear, plugging the other with the tip of her index finger. "Hello?"

  She heard nothing but silence for a few seconds. Another joke then. She was right before hanging up when a deep, masculine voice spoke on the other end.

  "Meet me at the old bridge on lover's lane. Forty five minutes."

  Goosebumps rippled down her arms and legs, making her shudder. "Wait, who is this? How do I know this isn't some kind of joke? What do you want from me?"

  A dial tone responded. He'd hung up.

  Alana hung up the phone and went back to her booth. Her food was waiting on her when she got back. She picked at it, merely curbing her appetite. For some reason, she was having a hard time swallowing anything. Her stomach was in knots. She pushed the food away, chasing it with more sweet tea as she thought over the cryptic phone call.

  Someone had followed her here and made the call. He might've been outside. He could've come in and gone while she waited on her lunch--there was no telling. He hadn't given her a chance to do anything except find out where he wanted her to go.

  The whole damn thing was set to tear her up into a bundle of nerves. She hadn't recognized the voice, but there were a lot of people in town. How strange that this would happen now, of all times, but she couldn't afford to ignore it. There was no telling what her father would do if he found out there was another picture. It had taken years before he was willing to hold more than a five minute conversation with her. Daddy's girl had been officially gone for … nearly ten years now.

  It had broken her heart to lose two men that she loved, virtually at the same time. She hadn't had anyone to go to for moral support. She'd worked hard to earn back her father's love, and she knew things would never be the same between them--especially if something like this came to light. Imagining how he'd respond to the news made her feel ill inside.

  Alana finished what she could of her lu
nch, having little appetite suddenly, left some cash on the table for her lunch and a tip, then walked out of the diner. She crossed the street at the light, and headed for her car in the extra parking across from the old courthouse.

  It was full on daylight, midday and getting hotter the deeper they went into spring. Summer was going to be a doozy this year.

  The creep who'd contacted her was obviously out for money. Bastard. Why the hell no one could just let her live a quiet life and leave her alone, she didn't know. But she hated having this sort of excitement in her life. She'd always hated daddy being in politics too, and tying her up into that arena. It meant, now, that she couldn't go to the cops for help. Not that she'd expect them to help her that much, not when they were for the most part, in her father's pocket. It'd be disastrous to go to them. He'd find out everything with one phone call from the police chief.

  She'd find out how much she had to pay to get back what was hers, then get on with her life. She wasn't really expecting anyone to hurt her. If they did, they'd never get any money. If the object had been something more, they'd have contacted her father directly, and she knew that hadn't happened. She'd have heard his bellowing voice all over downtown. He couldn't keep anything like that a secret--especially when it concerned his screw-up daughter.

  Alana got to her car, turning it on and cranking up the air. It was still officially spring, even if it was late spring, but the southern weather was already gearing up for a record hot summer. Her thin, polyester shirt was already clinging to her in unbecoming places. Sweat beaded on her brow and dotted her upper lip and cheeks, making her hair curl around her face in a wispy mess. She tucked the loose strands behind her ears then put the car in drive, traversing downtown south, into the country.

  The drive to lover's lane was a short one. The kids didn't want to be too far from the booze, but it was far enough out not to have to worry about city cops. County patrolled the area heavily on the weekend, always looking to get some teens going at it hot and heavy in the backseat. Not that that had ever happened to her as a teen. She'd spent most of her time doing her homework and being a good girl, especially towards the end of high school. After what had happened, she couldn't afford to give her dad any reason to hate her. She'd spent years trying to earn back his love.

  After all these years, she felt like she was finally making progress too, and now this….

  Regardless, it was a great road for making out, or even just taking a drive on. Little dirt roads and turns outs dotted the long, winding road. Great old oaks provided shade and cover for cars to sidle behind. A small branch of the river kept the area hydrated and lush, especially around the old bridge.

  Alana parked just before crossing the bridge. She got out and walked to it, leaning on the railing and looking down at the water creeping along beneath its steel girders. Leaves stirred with a breeze, salting the air with pollen and dead leaves that trickled down to the water. She could smell wild dogwood and wisteria growing somewhere in the distance, and the perfumed air tickled her nostrils with its sweet headiness and cooled the sweat dampening her skin. She pulled her shirt away from her neck, letting the breeze caress her sun heated skin.

  "I didn' think you'd have the nerve to show up, chere."

  Alana froze, her heartbeat suddenly quickened then lodged in her throat. She swallowed the lump, forcing herself to breathe and calm down before she could go into a panic. It was the same voice she'd heard on the phone. She straightened and turned towards the sound, feigning a confidence she didn't really feel. "You didn't really give me any choice, did you?"

  She couldn't see his face from the distance. He had a hat tipped low over his face, shielding him from the midday sun that blared above him. A plain white t-shirt clung to his well muscled torso, and faded blue jeans completed his nondescript ensemble. A country boy, trying to get one up on the rest of the world then.

  She perked up, thinking she'd read things right. She'd give him what money he wanted and be done with it.

  "We always have choices in the things that we do," he said, walking up and stopping a few feet from her. He kept his head down against the midday sun.

  Alana blinked against the bright sunlight, wishing she'd remembered her sunglasses just this once. She hadn't left the office originally with the intention of gallivanting around the countryside. She squinted in the glare, but could just see his square jaw and full lips, pulled back in a hard line. Alana stared at him, a warning voice niggling in the back of her mind. He leaned one hip against the bridge railing. Something about him was familiar. She knew him. Where did she know him from?

  "You are the one who sent that note, right?"

  He didn't say anything--only hooked his thumbs in his pockets. His hands were scarred all over, like he'd smashed a lot of things in his life--possibly faces. Or maybe he just worked hard for a living--when he wasn't trying to bilk good citizens out of their hard earned money. A crude, small tattoo of a black, broken and bleeding heart marked the skin between his thumb and forefinger.

  At least he didn't have any visible weapons--none hidden, for that matter, unless there was something in the small of his back. His jeans were well fitted, accentuating every bulge and muscle of his thighs.

  You've got me here," she said. "What do you plan to do?"

  "That I do, chere. That I do," he said, his accent suddenly thick.

  Something in his voice made her nervous, but she couldn't place what it was. She pulled away from the railing, looking at him warily.

  She was trapped, she suddenly realized. How did she know he didn't intend on raping, killing her, and then disposing of her body to never be seen again. She didn't.

  She swallowed when she saw he'd blocked off her escape route. She'd have to go around him to get to her car. And he looked a lot fitter than her--quick and lithe looking, like a predator waiting to pounce. His easy stance didn't look quite so relaxed now. And meeting a strange caller, even in daylight, out in the middle of nowhere didn't seem quite as wise as she'd first thought. How the hell was she supposed to deal with something like this, she wondered, without putting herself in harm's way?

  She'd just have to trust that his intent wasn't to hurt her. He could've done that already, unless he just wanted to torment her. She was way too big to be considered optimum prey for a rapist or murderer. She hoped. That's what they said on the detective shows.

  Alana stepped away from the bridge's edge. The stranger made no move to stop her. It wasn't like she could go without knowing if he had more pictures, and what payment he expected to extract from her. "What do you want from me? None of this beating around the bush. I don't have all day to waste out here."

  "Straight to it then." He smiled crookedly, a dimple piercing his right cheek, a shallow one creasing the left.

  She knew that smile.

  He straightened and stepped toward her, tipping his hat back.

  A cold wave rushed through her insides, choking the breath from her lungs. She swallowed, her mouth gone dry. "You're supposed to be in prison."

  He closed the distance, wrapping his battle scarred hands around her biceps. "I got out."

  Chapter Two

  Rafe Beauchamp tightened his hands on Alana's arms, trapping her from escaping him. As if she could even think straight enough to run.

  She gaped up at him, her mind whirling. The heat of the sun bore down on her, making her feel sick and faint.

  "You didn' think you'd see me again, did you, Alana? Thought Daddy had sent me away for good."

  She could hear the bitterness in his voice. It wasn't the voice of the young man she'd known so long ago. His was gravelly, hard--his accent seemed different--not the easy charm he'd used to get away with everything back in the day. Prison had changed him.

  "I didn't have anything to do with that."

  His face hardened. He narrowed his dark eyes at her. "You had everything t'do with it. I've had a long time to think about what you and your daddy did to me. A long time." His hold tightened, s
ubtly bringing her closer. A tiny trickle of moisture tickled a path between her breasts. His gaze followed the moist trail.

  Heat blushed her skin, followed quickly by dread. She never imagined he would ever hurt her, but what had nearly ten years in prison done to him? He could've done anything in there. The scars on his hands hadn't been there before. She would've remembered them. "Let me go."

  "Why, so you can run away again?"

  She frowned at him. "I'm not so stupid as to think I could outrun you. I just … don't want you holding me so close."

  "It make you nervous? You used to like me holding you like this."

  "You never held me like this." She pulled back, feigning a calm bravado she didn't feel.

  "You're right. More like this." He loosened his hold just long enough to wrap his arms around her. She was amazed they reached, and more so that he managed to make her feel tiny, even though she knew she was an elephant. Her breasts squeezed against his chest, the nipples flattening against the hard muscles beneath. The muscles of his belly rippled against her when he inhaled. He'd gotten very hard inside. A vague nervous flutter spasmed low in her belly. Her thighs felt hot and moist trapped beneath her pin striped skirt.

  "Stop it. I'm not your girl anymore, and you damned sure ain't my man."

  He smiled, hitching up one side of his mouth a little higher.

  "Let me go so we can talk."

  "You seem to be doin' just fine like this."

  She didn't like the direction this was going. Touching her was bad enough, but he was embracing her now, like he was getting ready to start something she wasn't prepared to go through with. Ancient memories were fighting her conscience, remembered kisses, all those familiar caresses and needy aches. She'd fought down the nostalgia for years, forgetting almost everything about him, but being this close brought all of it back to the forefront in one heady rush.