“Nosy?” she asked. He gave a nod. “And what did you find?”
“That you consistently amaze me.”
“I find the same of you.”
Rising to his feet, he pointed at the business card. “You really think I’m one of the good guys?”
She nodded, handing him a cup of hot chocolate. “You’re also an arrogant pain in the ass and don’t know when to back off.”
He thumbed his way through that statement. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”
The witch shook her head. “No. You just need to know that you’re not the only one who can solve mysteries.”
“I can’t solve you,” he replied before he thought.
To buy time, he took a swallow of the hot chocolate. As promised, it was liberally laced with Irish liquor. Without missing a beat, she took the cup from him and set it aside. Gently placing her hand on his cheek, her palm warmed the skin beneath. “You’re going to have to learn to trust me.”
“I’m working on it.” He took her hand and kissed the palm. It smelled of chocolate. “You’re going to have to do the same.”
“Trust in myself?” she said, flipping the question in a direction he’d not intended. Her brows furrowed in thought. “You know, maybe you have a point.”
“We’ll work on it together,” he said. He caressed her unblemished cheek, keeping his touch light. “You are so soft,” he said. “And your eyes . . .”
Gavenia smiled. “My eyes . . . ,” she prompted.
“Fiery blue to midnight dark. They have such depth.” Like your soul. “Okay, I admit it, I’m an eye guy.” His gaze trailed down her chest with the hint of a roguish smile. His hand followed, moving down the side of her neck, stopping just above the swell of her breasts.
* * *
She felt his heartbeat through the tips of his fingers.
His kiss was a curious blend of beer and chocolate. Her mouth parted and his tongue lightly touched hers. The kiss deepened and she leaned into it. His right hand cupped a breast and the sensation shot through her.
O’Fallon broke the kiss and pulled back, studying her with an intensity that made her pulse accelerate. “If I stay any longer,” he whispered, “I’ll want to make love to you.”
He’d drawn the line. If she stayed on her side, there would be no chance of hurt, no hidden secrets that might destroy her heart. If she let him go out the front door, she could preserve the status quo. Tomorrow would be like today. And tonight she’d sleep alone.
If she stepped over that line, her heart and her future were up for grabs. She exhaled slowly to buy time, searching around the room. No sign of Bart. O’Fallon’s Guardian was missing as well. What did that mean?
O’Fallon pulled back with a sigh of disappointment. “I’ve pushed too soon, haven’t I?”
“I’m not sure. I . . . it’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone.”
“Winston?” he prompted.
“Yes.”
“I swear I’m not married,” he said. “And I fancy you.”
The line grew thinner. Just a step over and . . .
“Why do you want to be with me?” she asked, searching his deep-brown eyes. “Why not . . . well . . .”
“Why not one of my own kind, you mean?” he asked, a tinge of hurt in his voice.
“No. . . . I’ve . . .” She pulled completely out of his arms, putting some distance between them. “I’ve dated guys who just wanted to brag they’d bagged a witch and lived to tell the tale.”
The hurt in his eyes grew. “You should know me better than that,” he said.
“Do I? One minute you’re sure I’m going to carve your heart out and sacrifice it to some demon, and the next moment you’re trying to seduce me. Color me confused, O’Fallon.”
A petulant frown appeared. “I’m sorry to be a problem. I don’t usually mess with—” He stopped and shook his head. “No, you’re not a heathen. . . . You’re . . .”
She took a step toward him, sensing he was teetering on a line of his own. “Go on. . . . What am I?”
He gently positioned his hands on either side of her face.
“A godsend,” he said, leaning forward and brushing a kiss on her lips.
“Goddess-send, you mean,” she whispered.
“Whatever . . . You are one of a kind.”
The next kiss wasn’t rushed, but savored like a fine cognac. His hand sought her left breast and he rubbed until the nipple pressed back through her sweater. The intimate sensation helped her decide.
“Stay with me tonight,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t answer, but hugged her close, stroking her hair.
A jolt of reality intruded. “Ah, damn.” She abruptly retreated from his arms.
“Now what?” he grumbled.
“We need to make a pharmacy run,” she said, embarrassed to even mention it. She’d been so furious at Winston’s infidelity, she’d tossed out her condoms.
A smug grin. “No problem. I have three rubbers in my wallet.”
“Three?” Another nod. “Wishful thinking?” she joked.
He pulled her into his arms again and nipped at her neck, sending heat lightning racing through her body. “You can tell me in the morning.”
This time there was no pause, only point and counterpoint. She helped him remove his shirt, careful not to touch his bruised ribs. He pulled off her sweater, revealing her lacy white bra. He ran his hand down both her breasts, rubbing the nipples to life. His hands had a slight tremor as he fumbled with the front hook. Gavenia found that endearing. He was as nervous as she was. That told her more was at stake than a night’s pleasure. She placed her hands over his, halting his progress for a moment.
“I’ve not been with anyone since the accident,” she said. “I’m not sure how this will go.”
His eyes softened. “You set the boundaries tonight. I’m here for you.”
Her heart melted. “I’ve never had a man say that before.”
“Then I’m happy to the first.” He resumed his efforts to unhook her bra, leaning close. His citrus cologne scented every breath she took, his arousal pressing hard against her thigh. “Need any help with that?” she joked.
“Not since I was sixteen,” he replied, the garment complying at the last moment. He removed it, dropping it to the floor. She waited for his reaction. It came immediately, his mouth falling open in astonishment.
Gotcha, she thought as he stared at the twin gold goddesses that hung like fine gems from her nipples.
“Oh, those are so . . . ,” he said, and then fell silent. He rubbed a finger over one of them. Before she could say anything, he carefully lowered her onto the mound of floor cushions and began his worship of the right goddess.
A tentative flick over the nipple, then a stronger one. She hummed in response. A strong suckle. She arched upward.
“Like that, do you?” he said with a wicked chuckle. “How about this?” He wet the nipple with his tongue and then blew on it. Cold fire coursed through her. Gavenia couldn’t help but moan in response.
He grinned in obvious delight. “This is going to be an evening to remember.”
Surprises lurked under his clothes—he wasn’t a boxer-shorts kind of guy but wore bikini briefs. They hugged every curve and bulged with promise.
As she ran her hands over his tight buttocks, savoring the sensation, he continued his exploration of her breasts, lavishing attention on each in turn.
“I’ve never made love to a woman who wore these,” he said, deftly flicking one of the rings with his tongue. She responded by nipping at his neck, earning her a deep growl of pleasure.
She ran her hand over his chest, finding a small bump near the right shoulder. A scar, pale white against his skin. Before she could ask, he covered her lips with his, his hand kneading her left breast. She slid her palms down the side of him until she reached his hips. Racking her nails up his back produced a moan that escaped from his mouth into hers.
r /> He pulled away and descended on her body, kiss by kiss, feathering them with increasing frequency, across the tattoo on her right arm, down her chest to her belly and finally to her thighs. Gently, he parted them. A kiss to her inner thigh made her quiver, then the other side, then one in the middle, as if he was performing a holy rite. Then he touched the part of her she’d long believed dormant.
The scent of her arousal was heady and fueled his desire. She was so different from the others, enticingly erotic, with those golden-haired goddesses who’d silently commanded he satisfy her.
God help him, he’d do his best. He touched her with his tongue and her hips moved upward in response. When he looked up, he saw her eyes were closed, waiting for his next move. Trusting him implicitly. He knew the measure of that trust and he swore he’d not fail her. He slowly moved his hands under her soft buttocks, raising her hips slightly, and let his tongue speak to her of ecstasy.
She called out once, then again, her hands tightening on pillows. Her body arched upward, tensing. Deep moans wove around her cries of pleasure. He paused only long enough to tear open the wrapper and pull out the condom. He rolled it on, testing it, and then took his place next to her on the pillows. Pulling her onto her right side, he carefully placed her left leg over his hip. With deliberate care, he moved inside her, watching her reaction. Her body tensed, then relaxed, and then tensed again as he moved deeper within.
“Oh, that . . . ,” she started, and then sighed.
“Feels good?”
“Ummm-hummm.”
He kissed her, deep, as he began to move, slow shallow strokes to begin with. Her body responded, pulling closer to him, her hand grasping his hip, guiding him toward her more forcefully.
“Oh, Goddess,” she whispered. He felt the cold metal of the nipple rings on his chest, her hair tickling down his arm. Her mouth sought his and she thrust her tongue deep.
Somewhere in the middle of their tandem tumult, he rolled her onto her back, hesitating only a moment before driving back into the depths of her. She cried out as an orgasm overtook her, her hair flowing around her like a halo.
God help him, he was feeling heaven with every stroke. She tightened around him and the sensation of raw heat grew, making him grit his teeth. He concentrated on the joy he could bring her before his own burning need was met.
As she rode out another orgasm, Gavenia opened her eyes. Her lover was moving faster now, his face set in concentration, bringing her the pleasure first.
She pulled herself up, nibbled at his ear, and said, “Your turn.”
He groaned and then his thrusts grew harder, more urgent. He pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her as his release caught him. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of their intimate union. As his orgasm ebbed, it caught fire within her, as if transferred from one body to the other. She called out at the peak of her ecstasy, clasping him tight to her, and then fell silent.
In time, he rolled to his side, pulling her with him. She nestled on his chest.
“Stay with me all night,” she whispered. “Don’t leave.”
“I’ll be here, whenever you want,” he said, kissing her tenderly on the cheek.
“I—” Gavenia stopped, unable to verbalize what she felt. She wasn’t sure herself.
“I know,” he said. “This was more than . . . we expected.”
He did understand. She laid her head on his chest, listening as his heart steadied its pace and returned to normal.
Eventually they collected their clothes, blew out the candles, and retreated to Gavenia’s bedroom. There they made love again, this time with less urgency, but more passion. She’d rolled on top of him, arching upward as she moved to her own rhythm. This time he’d come first, crying out her name to the heavens before she succumbed to the fiery pleasure.
“It just keeps getting better,” he said, kissing her as she curled up next to him on the bed. “Practice makes perfect.”
Gavenia nodded her weary agreement. As she fell asleep in her lover’s arms, she thanked the Goddess for her life and the man who had reminded her that she was a woman.
Despite his tiredness and the pleasant after-sex reverie, O’Fallon couldn’t sleep. He listened as Gavenia fell into a deep slumber, her breath tickling the hairs on his chest. They’re found more joy than he’d believed possible.
Thank you for bringing her to me. His prayers had been answered in a way he’d not expected. God had sent him the woman of his dreams in a disguise that he might well have ignored.
* * *
Gavenia roused to the sound of purring in her ear. She absentmindedly raised her hand, and it connected with fur. The purring grew louder and a low meow echoed near her ear.
“Let me sleep,” she whispered, rolling onto her side. A moment later she opened her eyes, staring at the empty bed next to her. No Irish guy. A pang of regret coursed through her.
She remembered him giving her a kiss sometime near dawn and whispering that he was leaving. She’d felt the bedclothes tucked around her and then was back to sleep in an instant.
Sorting through her memories of the previous night caused a lusty smile. He’d need to restock his wallet today. She’d not told him, but the Irish did make better lovers. There was no need to feed his ego quite yet. Stretching, she felt a slight ache in her hip. A pleased hum escaped her lips.
“Maybe Viv’s right. I should get laid more often,” she said. Pulling herself to the edge of the bed, she peered at the clock. Eight and some change. There was a note propped up against the clock; next to it was a folded piece of green paper. She picked up the note first.
Gold nipples beckon
You lie beneath me sated
Spring’s warmth fires my blood
“I’ll be damned—erotic haiku,” she said. Bastet rubbed against the hand holding the note. The green folded paper was an intricate origami parrot. It smelled like her lover’s citrus cologne.
“You are an enigma, O’Fallon. You’re as Irish as they come, you write haiku, you do origami, and you know how to make love. Unreal.” She kissed both the note and paper, returning them to their place by the clock.
A resounding hiss startled her. Bastet fluffed to twice her size, glaring at the far corner from her place at the end of the bed, her tail stiff in the air.
Quite a picture, a voice said. Gavenia struggled with her robe as she peered into the dim corner. A figure stepped out of the shadows, hands folded over his chest, shaking his head in disapproval. He was about six feet in height, clad in a natty blue suit, with lacquered hair a hurricane wouldn’t budge.
Before she could speak, he gestured toward the bed. Your choice in lovers is just not appropriate. Things have to change in that department. Actually, a lot of things have to change now that I’m here.
“Who the hell are you?” she snapped, rising to her feet in one movement.
I’m Reginald, your new Guardian.
Chapter Thirty
“Where is Bart?” Gavenia demanded.
Quickens has been reassigned.
“Not with my approval.”
Your approval isn’t needed.
“The hell it isn’t.”
Reginald shook his head as if she were a naughty toddler.
We’ll have to start with that attitude of yours. Quickens allowed you far too much freedom.
“Go away! I refuse to accept you as a Guardian.”
Quickens is gone. Throwing a tantrum won’t work.
She gave him a cold smile. “I’m not throwing a tantrum; I’m throwing your ass out. Either Bart comes back, or I do this gig alone. Either way, you’re not my Guardian.”
A strange look crossed Reginald’s face. It almost caused Gavenia to back down.
You refuse me as your Guardian? he asked.
“You’re damned right.”
Reginald looked heavenward and then nodded. So be it. His form thinned out, the chest of drawers becoming visible behind him. Pity; you had promise. Then he was gone
.
Gavenia gnawed on the inside of her lip until it bled.
“It’s Bart or nothing, got it?” she said, looking upward herself. When no answer came, she headed for the shower, the sensuous memory of the previous night tarnished by bitter reality.
* * *
“Your gut was on the mark,” Zimansky announced.
“So what did you find?” O’Fallon asked, shifting the cell phone to the opposite ear so that he could take notes. A cup of convenience-store coffee steamed the car windows.
“The grocery store’s security tape shows a guy walk up to the car, bend down, reach underneath the car, and pull on something. He stands up, dusts off his hands, and walks away. When the maid comes back, the car doesn’t start.”
“Were you able to ID the guy?”
“Nope. Too far away.”
O’Fallon’s mounting euphoria evaporated. “Did you talk to the repair guy?”
“Yup, and we picked up the list from Alliford. We got one from Mrs. Foster as well, just in case there was crossover.”
O’Fallon gave a nod of approval. “I’m trying to track down Janet Alliford, see what she can tell me.”
There was a chuckle, and then, “Can’t get away from it, can you?”
“Couldn’t if I wanted to.”
“Keep in touch, and we’ll do the same.”
“Thanks, Zimansky.”
“No sweat, O’Fallon.”
He flipped the cell phone closed. A few more things to check, and then he’d make a pass downtown to see if he could find Janet. While he was down there, he’d swing by the Pagan shelter. Now that he and the witch were lovers, the stakes were much higher.
* * *
The shelter’s dining room was nearly empty. One old guy tackled a crossword puzzle at a table by the window, muttering words to himself while another fellow napped nearby. The residual scent of food made O’Fallon’s stomach growl. After this social call, he’d have to find some lunch.
“O’Fallon?” a voice called. He swung around, and it took a moment to process the face as it was out of context. He’d never seen David Llewellyn in anything but a three-piece suit. The T-shirt, jeans, and apron made him look downright benign.