Sweet Deception

By Nancy Kay

Ten years ago their lives took separate paths.

Delilah sought a career in New York City; Kevin entered the state police academy, but when Delilah Wyeth inherits Cocoa Treats Chocolate, danger trails the cool city exec back to their hometown and draws State Police Corporal Kevin McClain into her unraveling life.

Kevin admires the cool, professional woman she's become, but misses the feisty girl he once knew. Though he vows to uncover why fear lurks in Lilah's stunning eyes, his less than stellar ancestry haunts Kevin, and he struggles to keep his hands off her tempting body.

Lilah faces life-altering choices. Precious memories pull her to stay and convince Kevin he deserves more in his life than a badge and gun, but if she abandons her smooth-talking, manipulative New York supervisor, will she trigger a deadly reaction?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nancy Kay
• Release date: Feb 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781370422388

Nancy Kay

Nancy Kay resides near Lake Erie in Western Pennsylvania with her husband, a former member of the Marines and the Pennsylvania State Police Department who provides valuable insight for her stories. Nancy is a long time member of Romance Writers of America. Her stories are set in small towns and inland communities scattered along the shores of the Great Lakes. They focus on romance, intertwined with the love of hearth, home and family, yet sprinkled with suspense, danger and intrigue. Learn more about Nancy at www.nancykayauthor.com. check her out on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/Nancy-Kay-140764572706374/?ref=bookmarks and see what Nancy blogs about at: https://nancykayauthor.blogspot.com/

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~ Copyright ~

Sweet Deception

© Nancy Kay, 2019

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events is coincidental.

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

www.agedtoperfectionpublishing.com

First Edition -Desert Breeze Publishing, 2013

Issued in the United States of America

Editor ~ Sherry Brinson

Cover ~ Taria Reed

Photography Credit: Joseph Schneider

Model: Jamison Drab

Book Format ~ KMD Web Designs

Contents

~ Copyright ~

~ Dedication ~

~ Chapter One ~

~ Chapter Two ~

~ Chapter Three ~

~ Chapter Four ~

~ Chapter Five ~

~ Chapter Six ~

~ Chapter Seven ~

~ Chapter Eight ~

~ Chapter Nine ~

~ Chapter Ten ~

~ Chapter Eleven ~

~ Chapter Twelve ~

~ Chapter Thirteen ~

~ Chapter Fourteen ~

~ Chapter Fifteen ~

~ Chapter Sixteen ~

~ Chapter Seventeen ~

~ Chapter Eighteen ~

~ Chapter Nineteen ~

~ Chapter Twenty ~

~ Chapter Twenty-One ~

~ Chapter Twenty-Two ~

~ Chapter Twenty-Three ~

~ Chapter Twenty-Four ~

~ Chapter Twenty-Five ~

~ Chapter Twenty-Six ~

~ Chapter Twenty-Seven ~

~ Chapter Twenty-Eight ~

~ Chapter Twenty-Nine ~

~ Chapter Thirty ~

~ About Nancy Kay ~

~ Dedication ~

I dedicate Sweet Deception to Anne and the owners and staff of Ritz Chocolates. Their advice and guidance helped me to create Cocoa Treats. I also want to thank Ruth, a psychologist, and Peg, a psychiatrist. These accomplished professional women helped acquaint me with the sociopath/psychopath personality, allowing me to create a convincing character within my story. Research adds authenticity to fiction, and I thank everyone who unselfishly and patiently provided me with valuable material to weave between the lines and create a realistic story.

~ Chapter One ~

Delilah Wyeth dragged her eyes open. A lazy smile curved her lips.

Chocolate.

Its rich aroma surrounded her, enveloped her. She murmured, Coming, Gram.

Then she blinked. Strangely, the heavy sweetness still hung in the air, but murky predawn light filtered through her bedroom window and fat raindrops traced crooked patterns on the glass. She wasn’t in Sophia Wyeth’s chocolate shop at all, but her own modest apartment in a New York City suburb, a long, long way from North East, Pennsylvania.

Four floors down, early commuters rushed by, horns honked, and tires hissed on wet pavement. An unexpected cold snap had allowed her to sleep with the window cracked the past two nights. A luxury after the first three blistering weeks of August.

Delilah stretched. She plumped the pillow behind her head and tucked the sheet beneath her chin. Despite being semi-awake and over five hundred miles from Gram’s shop, the intoxicating smell of chocolate lingered. Strange, yet somehow comforting.

Memory evoking.

Perhaps if her personal life wasn’t such a mess right now, or if the job of a lifetime hadn’t lost its luster, her brain wouldn’t be tricking her into believing she actually smelled the wonderful aroma that permeated every inch of Cocoa Treats. How long had it been since she’d visited Gram or helped make Cocoa Treats’ trademark truffles in her grandmother’s quaint little shop?

She blinked away tears. Why this sudden desire to see loved ones? To revisit her hometown along the shores of Lake Erie?

Outside a siren screamed its way across town and faded into the distance. The rain picked up and beat against the window. Delilah tossed the sheet aside and scurried barefoot across the hardwood floor. She slammed the window shut and paused, peering through the rain-streaked glass to observe the city awakening. For some peculiar reason, the trailing raindrops reminded her of tears. Goose bumps dotted her bare skin, and she crossed her arms, hugging herself. The room grew stuffy and airless, yet the sweet smell of chocolate lingered.

She could almost taste it.

A loud beeping made her jump, and she hurried to slap the intrusive alarm clock silent. Frowning, she hit the button again when the ringing continued, then realized the sound came from her cell phone. Who could be calling at six a.m.?

Apprehension squeezed her heart and set it racing.

Hello, she choked out.

Hi, baby, sorry to wake you. The familiar, much-loved voice held none of its usual warmth and humor.

She swallowed hard, forcing down panic. Dad, what’s wrong?

It’s Gram, honey.

And as she listened, her heart sank. Like raindrops on glass, silent tears tracked down Delilah’s cheeks.

*****

Gram was gone. The past few days blurred into a series of inconceivable events, starting with her father’s call and Delilah’s early morning exit from the city.

At the moment her head throbbed, and she gulped water to soothe her burning throat. People had filled the church social hall to overflowing after the funeral for a prepared luncheon. Dazed and exhausted, Delilah moved through the throng of mourners. Surrounded by friends and family, yet painfully alone, the day was an eerie replay of her mother’s funeral years before.

She’d been twelve when a truck broadsided her mother’s car. The memory had faded, details blurred, but the end result, losing her mother, had devastated her. If not for her father’s boundless love and her grandparents’ support, she wouldn’t have survived.

Lilah gazed around the room. Doug Wyeth talked quietly with bewildered-looking Cocoa Treats employees. He’d be there for them, and for her. Her dad’s bottomless strength was a port in her emotional storm. She’d survive, but would her life ever be quite the same?

Weaving her way across the crowded hall, she acknowledged sympathetic smiles and brief comforting touches. She approached a long, narrow table where a vase filled with daisies created a cheerful pocket in an otherwise somber room. In strange contrast, the thoughtful arrangement reflected Gram’s life rather than her death. Her smile graced the room from an eclectic collection of framed photos on the table. Whimsical poses of Gram with friends and family. Alex, Gram’s younger sister, mugged for the camera as Gram loaded cooling racks with trays of chocolate creams. Another shot caught Gram with Grandpa, the love of her life, outlined against a perfect sunset as the two of them strolled along the beach hand in hand.

Delilah paused and touched her finger to the driftwood frame. Grandpa had loved to capture the moment. From his deep well of patience he’d taught her to draw and recreate, using charcoals for stark simplicity and acrylics for vibrant color. She’d inherited his skills. He’d helped her hone them and taught her how to tap her own natural talent. Though her lips trembled, she smiled. He’d be proud she used that talent in her work.

Grandpa had died without warning while she was away at college. Then, too, her father’s solemn-voiced call had brought tragedy. Now the same emptiness gripped her.

Hello, Lilah.

Even before she turned, Delilah recognized the deep, masculine voice. Another memory came crashing back, and fresh tears filled her eyes. She swung around, coming face to face with Kevin McClain. Her heart skipped several beats.

Frozen, she studied his eyes. She’d never forgotten their sharp vitality, the subtle hints of secret knowledge in their depths. His eyes were a true hazel. Dark streaks of blue and white radiated to an intense, blue outer rim. The dark charcoal suit he wore turned them stormy gray.

Kev, she murmured. He wrapped his arms around her. Engulfed in his spicy scent, she hugged him, holding on with all her might.

At times while growing up, her brother Mac and Kevin made her young life miserable. He’d been Mac’s best friend and spent a great deal of time at the Wyeth’s. Her dad complained loudly and often when Kevin joined them for meals, claiming he’d go broke feeding two growing boys. His complaints, more bluff than substance, were largely ignored.

She leaned back, tilting her head to stare up at Kevin, trying to remember the last time she’d seen him. I’m sorry. I saw you at the funeral, but I was…

Don’t apologize, I came in late. I’m not quite settled in my new place, and my schedule’s erratic. His crooked smile made her insides tighten.

She eased out of his arms. He’d always been good-looking -- downright drop-dead gorgeous, according to all the girls at North East High, Harborcreek, and a few select schools in Erie. But for most of her life, Delilah just considered him her brother’s irritating friend.

Until the summer before her senior year.

Kevin’s transition from cocky high school show-off to college sophomore caught her unaware when he’d come home for a short visit that year. She fell for him, head over heels, and looking back, she couldn’t believe how brazen she’d been trying to capture the college man’s attention. He’d taken the challenge, or at least taken advantage of it, when she’d unbuttoned to reveal her budding chest encased in transparent lace. But soft strokes that nearly drove her crazy were as far as Kevin ventured. By the end of his visit, Delilah was ready to scream and Kevin, in her opinion, ran for the hills.

When he left without saying goodbye, she cried herself to sleep every night for weeks, vowing never to speak to Kevin McClain again. The passage of time dulled the hurt, yet now her face heated remembering the brief intimacy they’d shared.

His fathomless eyes held her spellbound as he reached out and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Lilah, if there’s anything I can do, you only have to ask.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and made an effort to smile. There’s nothing I can think of, Kev. I’ll only be here long enough to help Dad settle Gram’s estate and see what needs to be done about the shop. She shook her head. I’m sure, with Wine Fest coming up in a couple of weeks, she made promises to help and to provide chocolate for any number of events. Mac and his family are staying with Dad, and I’ll be staying in Gram’s house.

Fine lines framing Kevin’s eyes deepened when he smiled. Mac tells me you’re doing well, living in the city, and climbing the ladder in some slick advertising agency.

That’s me. She half laughed and glanced away, unwilling to admit she wasn’t doing well at all, or that she’d stumbled climbing that ladder.

Across the room, Mac and her sister-in-law, Amy, talked quietly with friends. Not surprisingly, her brother had followed in his dad’s footsteps and joined the State Police straight out of college. Currently stationed near Pittsburgh, he and Amy were expecting their first child in January. Amy was bright and pretty, and she also possessed a degree in clinical psychology. Her hands rested on the baby bump pressing against her navy blue dress and short blond curls framed her heart-shaped face. Lilah hoped she’d get a chance to spend time with them before they returned home.

She turned back to Kevin. You know, I’m going to be an aunt soon.

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. Yeah, I know. I keep telling Mac that Amy’s too good for him, and he keeps trying to fix me up with all her friends.

Oh? Lilah’s brows rose. Maybe now that you’ve got a few more stripes on your uniform you can find a woman on your own, Corporal McClain, she teased. You went through the academy and graduated six months before Mac. He won’t rest until he catches up with you.

Kevin laughed. As a matter of fact, your brother’s up for promotion. He scored high, and his name is on the list for corporal.

You made corporal first, though. It must burn his butt to--

"Del?’

She spun around and came face to face with Bryce Hamilton’s chilly stare. Bryce, I didn’t expect to see you here, she stammered.

Bryce gave the hand resting on her shoulder a pointed look. Why wouldn’t I be here? He glanced at Kevin, then back to her. Maybe if you’d had the courtesy to call before you left town, I could have traveled with you. As it was, I had to find out about your grandmother’s passing from Kent.

She wanted to snap back that Kent Steinberg owned the agency, not Bryce. Whether consciously or unconsciously, her failure to even think about calling Bryce assured her she’d made the right decision to break off their relationship. However, now was not the time or the place to inform him of that decision. She had no desire to air her personal problems in front of Kevin. Much as she’d like to tell Bryce to take a hike right then and there, to do so would cause an embarrassing scene. Technically, he was her supervisor, a complication she’d have to deal with later.

Before she could respond, Bryce turned to Kevin. I don’t believe we’ve met.

To his credit, Kevin smiled, but the fine lines around his eyes didn’t soften as they had when he’d greeted Delilah. Instead they hardened, and his clean-shaven jaw tightened. I’m an old friend of Lilah’s. We go back a long way, he added, his tone cool and even. Then he surprised her. He slid his hand from her shoulder down and around her, pulling her close to his side. His voice softened and, with one finger, he tapped gently beneath her chin. Remember what I said. Anything you need, just call me.

He released her, gave Bryce a curt nod, and walked away.

A steady pounding behind Lilah’s eyes kept time with her heart as Kevin melted into a crowd gathered across the room.

What did he call you? Bryce demanded.

She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, then heaved a weary sigh and turned to face him. Brace yourself, Bryce. Around here I’m either Delilah or Lilah. Take your pick. You’re the only person in the world who insists on calling me Del. She held up her hand before he could respond. "I’m wrung out, dead-tired, and still getting used to the idea that a very important, if not the most important, person in my life is gone. I don’t want a freakin’ lecture on how Del sounds more professional."

Under different circumstances, the astonishment on his face would have made her laugh. But she was so damned tired at the moment that she just didn’t give a rat’s ass about Bryce’s feelings.

Her headache returned in spades, but somehow she managed to get through the rest of the luncheon. She toyed with the food others heaped on her plate and thought longingly of the chilled bottle of Pinot she’d stashed in her dad’s refrigerator. Though Bryce hovered, clearly miffed by her rebuff, she ignored him.

As the crowd thinned, Bryce grasped her arm and pulled her into the adjoining hallway. Del. We need to talk.

The minute they were alone, his smile disappeared. He swung her around to face him. A five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw line, unheard of for GQ Bryce. He tugged at his collar. Don’t they have air in this one-horse town?

Delilah twisted her arm free. She ignored his snide remark, and seized the opportunity to make her immediate plans crystal clear. Bryce, I’m beat and, quite frankly, glad this day is almost over. What do you want?

Well, you’re not the only one who’s tired, he shot back. I need directions to where you’re staying, and I could use a stiff drink. Is there a decent restaurant close by?

I’m staying in my grandmother’s house, and before you ask, the answer is no. I want to be alone tonight. If you need a place to stay, there are several motels in the area I’m sure you’d find suitable. She hadn’t even considered where he intended to spend the night.

His eyes narrowed, and he gave one shoulder a quick roll. She rubbed two fingers between her eyes, tempted to just turn, walk away, and leave him standing there. Bryce did not like being told what to do. Up until recently, Delilah had let his controlling manner slide. No more. That would end along with their disintegrated affair.

You expect me to stay in a motel? By myself? He gave her a steely, condescending once over. I booked a late flight out of Buffalo tonight, but was willing to reschedule if you needed me to stay. However, if you have other plans, I’ll head back to New York and cover for you until you return.

The knot in her stomach tightened. "I’ve spoken with Mr. Steinberg about my responsibilities. I’m caught up with work and can manage things from here if it becomes necessary. I don’t need you to cover anything. I think it would be best if you didn’t change your reservation. I have no idea how long I’ll be in North East. Dad asked the attorney in charge of my grandmother’s estate to wait until tomorrow to deal with her will."

Oh. His brow rose, with more interest now than annoyance. Was she a... um, wealthy woman?

His casual question didn’t fool her one bit, it only reinforced the eye-opening discovery she’d made lately. Bryce was a user. She’d been flattered when the handsome, smooth ad exec took an interest in her. She knew better now, and when she returned to New York, she planned to make her discovery clear to him and to their boss.

My grandmother was a frugal woman. She and my grandfather created Cocoa Treats from nothing more than a dream and built it into a sound business. They struggled through lean years and succeeded with a lot of hard work, she added. He didn’t need to know that Grandpa’s income as a first-rate architect backed their dream.

His broad smile and the way he patted her arm turned her stomach. She waited, acknowledging friends who stopped to say goodbye as they departed, before responding to Bryce’s question. Gram was a wealthy woman, Bryce, though I don’t measure her worth in dollars. She meant more to me than you’ll ever know or understand.

Bryce’s attention shifted, and she glanced around to see her dad and Mac approaching.

Mr. Wyeth, Bryce said, holding out his hand. I haven’t had the chance to offer my condolences.

They shook, and her dad replied, Thanks, Bryce. Have you met Lilah’s brother, Mac?

Bryce stared blankly for a second. Oh, he responded after a long pause, and shook Mac’s hand. "She’s mentioned you, but always as Macintosh. I’m not used to Lilah, either. Everyone knows her as Del in New York."

Delilah clenched her teeth. Lilah had rolled off his tongue as if he spoke of a hooker.

Mac glanced at her and raised one eyebrow sharply. She shook her head in a distinct warning. Don’t do it, Mac.

She stepped between her dad and her brother. Bryce has to go back to New York tonight, she said, directing a brittle smile at him. She glanced at her watch. You may want to get an early start to Buffalo. Traffic near the airport can get hectic, and you must have a rental to turn in, right?

In silence, Bryce’s stone cold eyes stared into hers, and she feared he was about to instigate the scene she’d been avoiding. Mac wrapped his arm around her waist.

Bryce cleared his throat. "Yes, I do. I guess I should get moving. I’ll be in touch, Del."

As he walked away, Mac murmured, Asshole.

For the first time in days Delilah laughed out loud, and it eased the pain in her heart.

~ Chapter Two ~

Mac and her dad drove Delilah from the house she grew up in to the one she’d always considered a second home. Located on the north side of Route 5, just a few miles from her father’s place, her grandmother’s updated A-frame overlooked Lake Erie. Set back from the road and perched high on a bluff, the outline of the cedar-sided home stood out against a spectacular sunset. Grandpa had designed the house, situating it on the bluff so he and Gram could watch those sunsets every night.

Both her dad and Mac expressed concern about her staying in Gram’s house by herself, but she convinced them this was something she had to do. Mac also ragged her a bit about referring to him by his full middle name, Macintosh. He’d been Mac to everyone for as long as she could remember, but she’d called him by the full name when speaking to Bryce. One more adjustment she’d made to make herself acceptable to Mr. Professional.

A professional pain in the ass.

The men helped Delilah carry her bags into the house. After they left, she poured herself a glass of wine, slid open the patio doors, and watched the sun slide into the lake.

She lingered on the deck as twilight swallowed the last remnants of color in the sky, calling out every few moments, hoping to see Gram’s sleek orange tabby cat emerge from the shadows. Mac had searched far and wide for Truffle. The much-loved cat disappeared the day Gram died and had not been seen since.

Giving up, Delilah closed and locked the patio doors. Inside, the house looked the same. Smelled the same. She strolled room to room, touching familiar objects, aching inside when she came across a picture of her with Grandpa. They’d been on the deck with their easels before them, working to capture a passing sailboat on canvas when Gram had snapped the shot.

Grandpa had been gone close to eight years now. The subtle scent of her grandmother’s vanilla lotion still lingered, but any trace of Grandpa’s trademark Old Spice was long gone.

The bed in Gram’s room was made, covered by the multicolored quilt she’d won at a local craft fair one year. Delilah ran her hand over the soft fabric, and then made her way to the linen closet for clean sheets and towels. She’d sleep in the loft during her stay. At this point, she had no idea how long she’d be in town and frankly didn’t care to think about it. Her footsteps echoed as she climbed the wide oak stairs to the upper floor.

The loft overlooked the entire first floor, and during daylight hours the view through windows extending to the A-frame’s ceiling was spectacular. Along each side of the loft Grandpa had built in shelves and drawers. He’d topped the units with wide counter tops, creating storage for art supplies and a work space enhanced by skylights.

She stepped through the doorway separating the front of the loft from the rear. On one side was a compact bath, complete with a glass-walled shower, and on the other, a high chest and double bed were tucked under the sloped ceiling. She folded back a light spread covered with sail boats and made up the bed for the night. One of the pillows slipped from her hands, and as she bent down to pick it up her foot caught on the throw rug beside the bed. She landed on her backside with a thump. Tired beyond words, Delilah slumped against the mattress.

Legs bent, she crossed her arms and rested them on her knees. Lowering her head, she burst into tears. Days of pent up emotion spilled over, triggered by the sudden realization that she was alone in Gram’s house for the first time in her life.

*****

Amy Wyeth’s tired smile greeted Kevin when he walked in the door. He’d tapped twice before letting himself into the spacious foyer of Doug Wyeth’s home.

Kevin, come on in, she invited from a large chair in the front room just off the entry. Muted voices carried down the hall from the kitchen located at the rear of the house. The guys are in the kitchen having a cold one.

He strolled in and bent down to place a kiss on Amy’s cheek. How ya feelin’, little mama?

Her face lit up like Christmas. She rubbed her hand over her rounded belly. Better now. The first few months were a little shaky.

Well, you sure look fine now. He squatted down to her eye level. You and Mac are going to make great parents. That little guy, or girl, is one lucky kid, he said, tilting his head toward her tummy, reluctant to admit he actually envied his best friend.

Kevin meant what he’d said. Amy and Mac came from rock-solid backgrounds and raising a child would come naturally. Mac was barely in his teens when he’d lost his mother, and in private he’d shared vivid memories with Kevin, often shedding unmanly tears. Kevin never told a soul about the tears, nor did he ever admit to Mac how hard it had been to listen. He’d done it without question, knowing keeping her memory alive was vital for his friend.

Memories of his parents were best left dead and buried.

He stood and jingled the keys in his pocket while glancing around the room. Since moving back to North East, time hadn’t allowed for a social call, but very little had changed since he’d last been there. Maybe a different color on the walls, but the inviting old sofa covered with bright-colored cushions still faced the fireplace, and a wooden rocker beside a table stacked with paperbacks sat by the window. With vivid clarity he recalled playing Monopoly for hours with Mac, Lilah, and sometimes even Doug in this very room.

He contemplated a photo sitting on the mantel. The shot had captured Lilah grinning up at