"Jaime has just discovered a murder victim. I'm concerned for her safety, so I will be spending the night. I believe there's a pullout sofa in the living room. That will suit me fine."
He walked out before she could answer. I followed him.
WE WATCHED the six o'clock news with Grady, Claudia and the guards. Even the cleaning woman joined us after hearing the commotion. It took me awhile to realize Angelique wasn't there but, after seeing her fumbling on screen, I decided maybe it was better if I didn't drag her in to join the party.
And a party it was. A victory celebration. We were splashed all over the news, Grady and I both finding opportunities to plug the Death of Innocence special and dropping teasers about the material we'd taped so far.
As for the discovery of the crime, it played out just the way we'd spun it. Yes, Grady had found the body. Yes, he claimed to have sensed the "poor child" calling to him. But in every newscast, it was clear that I'd been the one to lead him there, based on my own experiences in the house--experiences I was less eager to share. When the group heard the story, the person they'd think who was most likely to know more than she was saying--perhaps something that could expose them--would be me.
As I watched myself on television, imagining the group watching too, I had to admit that I hadn't really thought it all through. Finding the corpse would, we hoped, draw out the killers. Being of a scientific bent, they'd leave nothing to chance, so they'd get closer, maybe even try to beat the police to other bodies in the gardens.
I'd already hinted I knew more. Having unlocked magical secrets themselves, they'd know it wasn't impossible that I did know more, that my ability to communicate with the dead wasn't a put-on. They'd want to know how much more I knew.
Jeremy would do everything in his power to keep me safe. Hope had promised her help, as had Eve.
But had I really considered the danger I was now in?
No.
Would I have backed out because of it?
No.
RISKS AND REWARDS
AT EIGHT O'CLOCK, AS WE WERE FINISHING DINNER, the door swung open. In strode a man--no more than thirty with blond-streaked hair, a cultivated five-o'clock shadow and a shark's grin. Two assistants flanked him, each a decade or more his senior.
"Todd Simon," he said. "I know you were probably hoping to catch a flight home tomorrow, but in light of recent developments, I see grand new possibilities for this little show of ours, and I'm personally taking the helm to guide us there."
Claudia pushed back her chair. "I presume this new direction means a renegotiated contract? With a renegotiated salary?"
Simon flashed a smile. "Absolutely. My lawyers are on their way here to handle that. This show has just climbed to the top of the network's specials list, and we have you all and your amazing talents to thank for it. I intend to make every member of this team a very happy camper."
BETWEEN THE reporters, cameras, cops and Todd Simon's crew roaming the house and garden, Jeremy and I couldn't steal a moment of privacy. So I'll admit it was with no small disappointment that I realized he had every intention of sleeping on the pullout sofa.
Old-fashioned, yes, but kind of sweet. I returned to the kitchen for an aspirin after the others had retired, giving him a chance to slip upstairs with me. But the living room remained dark and silent.
At some level, this was what I expected from Jeremy. Responsible and controlled to the core. As passionate as he'd been the night before, and despite his teasing today, he'd be wrapped up in the case and presume I'd feel the same.
Damn.
I trudged upstairs. Eve was in my room, keeping watch, slung sideways over a chair by the balcony door, reading a book. A textbook, of course. I couldn't imagine Eve picking up a novel. Reading was for learning, for research, and even then only as a last resort, when there wasn't a more active way of finding out what she wanted.
I glanced at the title. Abarazzi's Complete Genealogy of Demons, Demi-Demons and Associated Subtypes.
"A little light reading?" I said.
"Catching up on some family history. Dull enough I won't get caught up in it. Not so dull that I'll fall asleep." She looked over the edge at me. "So..." She glanced behind me. "I see you didn't find the aspirin."
"Ha-ha." I kicked off my shoes and dropped onto the bed. "It's been a long day, and definitely not the time to make any--"
A rap at the balcony door. Jeremy stood there, shielding his eyes to see past the light reflecting off the glass.
"You were saying...?" Eve began.
"Scoot."
"Leave? Weren't you just saying...?"
I mouthed an obscenity. She grinned and closed her book.
"I'll be on patrol. You need me back, just shout. But something tells me you won't."
She left. Jeremy was leaning against the railing now, confident in his welcome. He looked as sexy as he had last night--hair slightly mussed, feet bare, lips curved in a smile, long fingers tapping the railing with just a touch of impatience, eager to get inside.
A spark of heat flickered. I remembered the night before, him leaning into the gap, that hunger, that desire--and the spark exploded into a flame that licked through me, burning all the hotter as I remembered what had brought him here last night. This time, there was no adrenaline intoxication to blame. He'd made his decision. He was ready to take a chance. After four years of waiting and hoping, he was here, at my door. And just seeing him was enough to make me dizzy with lust.
As I walked to the door, I realized my nipples were already hard, pressing against my shirt. I tugged it looser to hide them. I'd waited years for this, and no matter how ready I was, I was going to make this last.
I cracked open the door. "Bastard."
His brows shot up. "What did I do now?"
"Pretending you were staying downstairs. Faking being asleep when I slipped down there."
"I've been outside since you first went upstairs, Jaime. I was talking to the officers on duty, then scouting to ensure I could still get up here without being seen." He paused, lips twitching. "So you came back down? Hoping to do what? Sneak me back up to your room?"
"Of course not. I was getting an aspirin and a glass of water."
"You have a headache?"
"No--yes. A bad headache. So sorry. Better luck tomorrow."
I started to close the door, but he wedged his fingers in the gap. A tug and it opened a little farther. Then, one hand still on the door, he reached the other in, fingers brushing my cheek, hand going behind my head to pull me to him. For a second, I hung there, straining for his touch, aching for his kiss...and knowing if I let him get me closer right now, I wasn't going to make it as far as the bed. And as delicious as that thought was, it wasn't quite what I had in mind. So I stepped back and snapped the lock down, stopping it at a six-inch gap.
"Headache, hmm?" His expression went serious. "Do you know what's the best cure for that?"
"What?"
"Orgasm."
He said it so matter-of-factly I had to sputter a laugh.
"Multiple, if possible," he continued. "It's a proven medical fact that one physiologic event, like orgasm, can cancel out the effects of another physiological process, such as a headache."
His expression was perfectly serious, but I said, "You're full of shit."
"Perhaps. If so, you should call my bluff. Just open the door and we'll test it out."
He gave me a look that was almost enough to let me test it without so much as a touch. Which gave me an idea...
"You're right. Maybe I should." I backed up to the bed, then settled onto the edge. "But I think I can manage by myself. I'm a strong believer in self-reliance."
"I see."
I smiled. "Not yet."
As I eased back onto the bed, my skirt hiked up until it was bunched at my hips. I ran my fingers along the hem, then under, to the inside of my thigh.
"You wouldn't dare," he said.
"That's what you said last night and, as you may have n
oticed, I'm not the sort of woman to let a challenge pass."
I leaned back and brought my feet up to give him a better view. I stroked the inside of my thigh, fingers climbing higher. A surreptitious look his way. He was pressed against the gap, his nostrils flaring, eyes glinting. His lips parted, tongue slipping between his teeth--
I shuddered and pulled my gaze away. I was already so wet I'd need to peel these panties off.
I slipped my fingertip under my panty leg, running it along the edge, tugging it up just enough to give him a peek at what lay beneath. Then, holding the panties aside with one hand, I teased myself with the other, gasping and arching my hips.
Jeremy gripped the edge of the door frame, fingers flexing as if readying for that lock-breaking yank. But he didn't do it, just stood there, watching me, nostrils flaring, holding back--controlling it and drawing it out until the last possible moment--
I stopped before I hit my last possible moment. I let go of my panties, but kept my finger under them, where he couldn't watch.
"You could open that door, Jeremy," I said. "But that would break it, and then you'd have to explain things and, well, that just wouldn't be proper, would it?"
I leaned back on the bed, fingers still teasing us both. His hand tightened on the door frame, but he only said, "Open the door, Jaime."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I slid a finger inside myself and gasped. "I'm doing just fine on my own."
"I can do better."
"Think so? I'm pretty sure I have more practice."
A laugh. Then a roll of his shoulders, as if trying to snap out of the mood. He glanced over his shoulder.
"You really should let me in, Jaime. Before a guard walks by and sees me. That's trouble we don't want."
"Oh, so now you're getting all responsible on me. I thought you said it was safe."
"For climbing up, not camping out."
I walked to the door, stopped at the opposite end--out of his reach--and peered into the night.
"All anyone can see from this angle, in the darkness, is a very big tree."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Absolutely?"
"Yes, so you're not using that as an excuse to come inside."
"I wasn't thinking of excuses. I was thinking of a little show you promised me in the alley this afternoon."
"I never promised--"
"An implied promise, cut short by a phone call, which I never complained about."
"You're such a gentleman."
He stepped back, leaning against the railing.
"Please," I said, rolling my eyes. "You expect me to strip in front of a patio door? What kind of woman do you take me for?"
His lips twitched in that sexy, crooked smile, gaze locking on mine. "I dare you."
"Bastard."
"Keep calling me that and I might get offended and leave."
I mouthed the word, checked the lock on the door, then backed up and started tugging my blouse from my skirt, slow and deliberate. Then the unbuttoning. I shrugged and the blouse slid down my shoulders, but no further. Reaching behind, I unzipped the skirt. A shimmy and it went down to my waist and caught at my hips.
"See, I told you it was too tight."
I gave a halfhearted tug. It fell a half-inch. Another shrug and my blouse slid to my breasts and stopped.
"Hmmm, seems that's a little tight too," I murmured.
Another shimmy. Another half-inch. The lace on my panties showed over the waistline. I plucked at it with one hand and ran the fingers of the other under my bra.
"Seems I could use a hand."
"I believe I already offered that."
I laughed, then tugged off the shirt and let it float to the ground. The skirt followed, pooling at my feet.
"Is this okay?" I asked. "Or do you prefer au naturel?"
"I didn't get much of a look at au naturel last night. You turned away before the dress came off, if you recall."
"Did I? Nasty." I stepped out of the skirt and moved closer to the door. "I suppose you want to do a comparison."
He nodded, but his gaze kept traveling over the sheer lace bra and matching G-string panties. I backed up, then bent, picked up my discarded clothing and headed for the bed. As I turned, he made a low noise deep in his throat.
I leaned over the bed to lay my clothing on the far side. Then, still bent over, I glanced over my shoulder at him. His expression was enough to make me lean over farther, feet spread a little wider.
"Seeing something you like?" I said. "A position maybe? Judging by that look you're giving me, I think you're more of a wolf than you let on."
A low chuckle. "Normally, I wouldn't say it's a preference, but at the moment I believe I could be persuaded."
I stretched farther, arching to enhance his view...and the invitation. My hand glided between my legs. I pushed the fabric aside, then slid a fingertip in again.
"Jaime..."
I pushed the finger the rest of the way in. Jeremy grabbed the door frame. I smiled.
"One tug, that's all it'll take. I'll be right here. Waiting and..." I slid my wet finger out for him to see. "Ready."
His grip tightened on the door and I braced myself. Then he stopped short, nostrils flaring as he glanced over his shoulder. I backed off the bed and hurried over.
"Is someone down--?"
He lifted his finger to his lips and stepped to the edge for a better look. He frowned, then, gaze still riveted to something below, eased back to the door. His lips moved, but I caught only a murmur.
I moved to the gap and whispered, "What's that?"
He pressed against the opening. "I said--"
A sharp tug on my panties. I gasped and pulled back, but he had the front of them wrapped around his hand.
"You--"
A yank on the front of my bra and I smacked into the door frame, the curse cut short as his lips found mine. I gave a token struggle, but hated to ruin a very expensive lingerie set, so I gave up and kissed him back. The door frame pressed against my face and sides, cold and hard, an unwelcome contrast to the heat of his skin, and I wriggled to get away from it, to feel only him.
As his fingers crept into my panties, I tried to arch back, to give him better access, but the door was in the way. His fingers grazed me and my hands clenched, wanting to grab him, to dig my fingers into him, but all I could feel was that damned door.
He teased me, his fingertips slipping inside, but the angle was wrong and awkward and, after a moment, he pulled back.
"Don't stop," I said, voice ragged.
"Sorry, I'm a perfectionist. I'd hate to leave a bad first impression. Perhaps if you opened the door..."
"You open it."
"The door lock is on your side. True, I could break it--but that, as you pointed out, would be wrong. Irresponsible. Just reach over, flick the switch--"
"Never."
He yanked on my bra, pulling me into a kiss that sent my brain reeling, nails clawing at the door frame.
Okay, enough was enough. Time to tip the balance.
I reached through the gap and unbuttoned his pants, slid my hand into his shorts and wrapped my fingers--
He groaned and pressed against the gap, as if he could shoulder his way through.
That was more like it.
I stroked him, my grip tight, and his groan turned to growls that made my eyelids flutter and my panties flood. I arched my hips toward the door and pulled him between my legs. A sharper growl, frustrated now as he tried to get closer.
I let go and backed up, then slid my panties down. I looked at him, caught that flare of the nostrils, that dark lust in his eyes as he pressed into the gap, his erection--
I pulled my gaze away before I said "to hell with it" and opened the door.
I undid my bra and let it fall, then stepped from my panties and moved to the door. Fingers wrapped around him, I arched onto my tiptoes, guiding him between my legs.
He chuckled. "I don't think that will work."
"Is that a dare?"
I slid him between my legs and thrust my hips forward. I couldn't get more than a couple of inches, just enough to tease. I slid down, eyes closed, arching back, gasping--
The door slammed open, lock breaking. His arm went around my waist, lifting me up and dropping us both to the floor. His arm broke my fall, but we hit with such force that we slid across the hardwood. His hand flew to the top of my head a split-second before it crashed into the bed leg.
I smiled up at him. "Always a gentleman."
"Not always," he said, and, with one hard thrust, he was inside me.
V
She knelt on the living room floor of her condo. The blinds were drawn, but that wasn't suspicious, given the hour. If anyone had seen her, he would have been shocked--this upright professional kneeling before an ancient spellbook, surrounded by candles, arcane symbols chalked on the floor. Unexpected, but hardly criminal, worthy only of whispers and raised brows.
The grayish powder in the bowl could be anything--probably wouldn't even be noticed. That was the beauty of it, unlike the dried body parts her nanny had used--those disgusting relics that had to be kept hidden and, when accidentally found, had cost the old woman her job. All that secrecy, shame and pain for something that hadn't even worked. Oh, her nanny had claimed otherwise--taking responsibility for accidents and strokes of good luck. That was how the ignorant practiced magic, seeing success in every coincidental occurrence.
Unlike the rituals her nanny swore by, this magic worked. As for why it worked, the group was convinced the ashes were the key. She'd believed that too. That was the one thing that made the difference between failure and success, ergo it must be the key.
And yet...
What if the magic worked with the ashes because they thought it would? Because they'd wanted this to be the key? Because they'd needed it to be the key, to excuse what they had done--taken the life of a child. Guilt, fear and conviction. All powerful motivators.
Three years ago, she'd started experimenting with using lesser amounts of ash. It had taken months of daily practice to see any results. All that practice meant she needed more than her share. Being the one in charge of the burning and the division of material had let her take that extra unnoticed, but she'd hated it. Like a company CEO who pilfered copy paper and printer ink--disgraceful and undignified.
After that initial breakthrough, though, success had come faster with each reduction. It was as if having proven to herself that she could cast with less, she'd overcome a mental barrier that said otherwise. It didn't work with all the spells. Thus far, the group had mastered just over a dozen, and fewer than half of those worked with significantly reduced amounts of human remains. But it was progress. Moving toward the ultimate goal, the one she was testing tonight.
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