Malcolm and Ives 02 - Trouble With Air and Magic

by Patricia Rice

It would be a madhouse. They should be in school. She turned back in his direction and almost ran her nose into his chest. She needed her high heels.

  Instead of stepping back, Conan lifted her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. Before she could wrap her head around what they were doing, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him as if he were a big drink of water and she was dying of thirst. And he replied with greedy need.

  Ah, so this was how he spent his pent-up energy. She approved. She desperately needed mindlessness for a while.

  He carried her to a bed covered in fine white linen and a sage green duvet and the most welcoming mattress she could imagine. She needed to question him about the owner of this palace, but her tongue was otherwise engaged. Supergeekman knew how to kiss.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, propping himself on his elbows and prodding at the bandage beneath her scrub top.

  “I’ll let you know when it starts hurting.” Dorrie yanked his head back down to hers and arched against his surfer’s hard body. It had been a long time since she’d had a man’s strength shielding her, and the longing and need were urgent.

  Conan didn’t need further encouragement.

  Chapter 20

  Conan had spent his teen years studying porn videos. By the time he grew into his nose and girls finally noticed him, he hadn’t been totally clueless. He’d been refining his sexual prowess with an engineer’s skill ever since.

  Dorrie blew all his practiced maneuvers clear out his ears. She’d twisted a knife deep in his gut when she’d been lying in that hospital bed, looking as fragile as a broken lily. He needed to rip out the knife she’d planted in him and plaster the wound with reassurance that she was alive and well and life would return to normal.

  With Dorrie, however, he was realizing there was no normal. He was way out of his league.

  Just the touch of her enchanted fingers stimulated him in ways he couldn’t comprehend. She stroked his hair, and he could swear every strand was electrified. The hum of magic intensified their kiss. He thought he’d have to devour her before he could have enough. He craved more. He nibbled her ear, sampled her jaw, and at her moan, returned to drinking the heady bliss of her lips.

  “We shouldn’t,” she murmured, but her fingers were still caressing his biceps and sending tingling messages straight to his groin.

  Conan flipped over and pulled her on top so he didn’t have to be so careful with her shoulder. “Yes, we absolutely should,” he corrected.

  She rewarded him by ripping off his shirt buttons and kissing his chest. He almost came off the bed when she suckled his nipples and her magic hands slid down his belly, spreading sensual heat and lust and unquenchable desire.

  He was supposed to be in charge here, but his pint-sized Gypsy lady was turning him into jelly. He slid his hands beneath her loose smock, and her moan of pleasure increased his lust exponentially.

  He shouldn’t be getting involved with a woman who attracted trouble, a woman who was hazardous to his family’s health…a woman who could distract him from what he should be doing.

  She kneeled over him, pulled off her smock, and flung it across the room. Conan quit thinking. With fascination, he cupped and stroked her perfect breasts, amazed at how the dark rose peaks puckered and begged for more. Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this, but she wanted him as much as he wanted her. They could sort out their differences later.

  She wasn’t large, but she filled his hands just the way he liked them, while being careful of the ugly bandage covering her shoulder. Using his abs, Conan arched his torso into a half sitting position so he could taste her without her having to use her arms for support.

  She uttered a cry of pure ecstasy, caressed his biceps, and he suddenly had the strength of a dozen men. Damn if he didn’t feel her energy. He swung her back to the bed and yanked off her elastic-banded pants, then unzipped his and pushed them off. He still wore his knit boxers, but she didn’t waste time in locating the opening.

  Conan thought he’d died and gone to heaven the moment she caressed his heavy erection with her magic fingers.

  ***

  Holding all that splendid throbbing energy in her hand, Dorrie forgot about her shoulder. She forgot everything that annoyed her about this man. For the first time in her life, she’d discovered a physical harmony to match her chi, a harmony that allowed her to breathe and clear her mind. A harmony that awoke her to the songs of her body. Every particle of her being tingled and hummed in expectation.

  Conan’s kisses and caresses only pitched the hum to higher intensity. She feared she would take off like a rocket when he stroked her clitoris. Instead, he was the key to her lock, the piece that completed the puzzle, the utter joy she’d been lacking. When he dispensed with the rest of his clothes, grabbed his wallet out of his jeans, and donned a condom, she arched to welcome him home.

  Conan’s groan of hunger was an orchestration finer than Beethoven. He gently pinned her arms to the bed so she wouldn’t hurt herself lifting the injured one, but her legs were free to wrap around his hips and tug him so deep inside that he surely touched her heart.

  Their first joining was rapid and explosive. The resulting climax left them both gasping for air. Dorrie wondered how much blood she must have lost to cause her head to spin in the clouds while the rest of her was so satisfied that she couldn’t move.

  Conan tumbled to one side and stroked her breasts as if to memorize them. “I can do better than that,” he declared.

  Dorrie chuckled. “You promised me steak, too.”

  “Oh, shit.” He immediately sat up.

  Dorrie tugged him down again. “I’ll survive. I don’t do this every day, so let’s just enjoy the aftermath for a few minutes, okay? You made the world go away.” She said it in awe. He’d made her lose every single thought. That never happened.

  Conan tugged the covers over them, cuddled her in his muscled arms, and whispered into her hair. “I’m thinking in song lyrics right now, and I don’t even do karaoke. How do you do what you do to me?”

  She giggled. “Bad choice of song. I think our adrenaline is probably just running high. It’s like taking drugs and will wear off shortly, at which time I’ll yell at you for promising the kids I’d take care of them.”

  He spooned her bottom and caressed her nipples. “I probably can’t prevent yelling by keeping you in bed, and still expect you to look after kids. If I admit dumping Amy and the kids in my place with the dog was a dumb move on my part, will you not yell too loud? You were in a hospital bed, and I was in a state of panic at the time.”

  She snorted in amusement. “You tracked me down at the hospital, helped me escape, found a hiding place, and rescued the kids on the side. That doesn’t sound like panic to me.”

  “Believe me, it was heart-stopping, mindless gorilla instinct operating,” he uttered with feeling. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  Given her family’s history, she couldn’t promise any such thing.

  Dorrie sat up and slid to the edge of the bed, looking back with a tinge of regret at Conan’s tousled, sun-bleached hair and athlete’s torso. He was more man than she’d ever known, and she ought to be afraid of what he was doing to her. But they’d connected in ways she didn’t yet understand, and she was flying without a net.

  She leaned over to locate her scrubs on the floor. “You live inside your brain, so you don’t have to feel what’s in your heart. That’s as bad for relationships as the cactus collection you probably have in your bedroom.”

  “Cacti are interesting.” He sat up, grabbed his clothes, and without self-consciousness, strode nude to the bathroom. “And they don’t need watering.”

  She flung her purloined shoe at the door when he closed it. The sex had been so terrific, she was willing to repeat the act anytime he asked. But supergeekman was a robot, not relationship material, and she needed to remember that.

  ***

  “I need to talk to Amy. And I want to know wha
t’s happening at the office,” Dorrie complained as she dug into the steak Conan had bought at the grocery and grilled for her. She’d sliced and seasoned potatoes to quick fry and prepared a salad. With food in her, her energy was returning sufficiently to fret.

  “I’ll buy you one of those disposable phones. You can check in later so your family and employees don’t worry about you.” Conan helped himself to more potatoes. “I need to drive down and pick up the kids and your stuff, so I need a way of keeping in touch, too.”

  “I still think this is unnecessary cloak and dagger silliness. I bet once the kid starts talking, you’ll find he was just crazed on meth and shooting anything that moved.” That’s what she was hoping and praying, but it didn’t explain the coincidence of someone going after the kids.

  “Not betting your life,” he declared through a bite of lettuce. “You have something someone wants or fears, and until you figure out what that is, you’re staying here, out of sight. What kind of entertainment do you need? I’ll bring that back, too.”

  She didn’t even own a roof over her head. She couldn’t imagine how she’d possess something anyone would want. Maybe, if she could remember more of the shooting… But she’d burned out brain cells defending herself.

  “Bring my netbook. I’ve been neglecting my blog. I don’t suppose you could hook me up to the office so I could do some work? Beyond that, three kids will keep me running. I know nothing about taking care of kids.”

  “Feed them. Don’t let them kill each other. Give them a bed to sleep in. They’ll be fine,” he said dismissively.

  More comfortable with this topic, Dorrie threw a cherry tomato at him. Conan caught it without looking and popped it in his mouth. Damn, no man had any right to be that good-looking, smart, and coordinated.

  “There speaks Robotman. Their world has been turned inside out. Those kids will be terrified and worried. They need the familiarity of school. They need love and affection and security. They are not lab rats.” It would be easier to get mad at Conan if he just wasn’t so abominably cool with her complaints. She could tell the dratted man was listening, even if he wasn’t arguing belligerently as her father would have.

  “Guess my brothers and I were lab rats. Don’t remember all that fussy stuff,” he said with a shrug. “We played Hide From Nanny, although I think Magnus tried Hide Nanny once. She didn’t like being sealed in a closet.”

  Dorrie covered her mouth to prevent spewing salad. She finally managed to swallow through her laughter. “How old were you?”

  “Mom died when I was six. My brothers are both older than me. Pick an age. One of us was capable of anything until we hit college and found better outlets. Kids are animals. Just keep them fed.”

  Dorrie refrained from throwing anything at him this time. Maybe he was right, what did she know? “Bring the computer you gave them so they can at least play games. I’m hoping there’s Internet here?”

  “Should be. Pippa bought this place for her mom while they were working on their new home. Jean stays pretty connected. Are you doing the dishes while I drive back to town?” He scraped his chair back, apparently already planning three days ahead of the rest of the world.

  Dorrie thought he might be talking about the family to whom she hadn’t been introduced. What had changed? Of course, he wasn’t offering to introduce her yet.

  “And where is Pippa’s mom while we usurp her home?” she asked, reluctant to let him flee and leave her here alone.

  “With Pippa. They’re building a mansion on the other side of town, and they’ve got a cottage and RV there. If I don’t make it back until morning, will you be okay?” He actually almost looked concerned.

  He still didn’t offer to introduce her to his family, even after he’d imposed on them. She kept her annoyance hidden. It wasn’t as if they had a relationship beyond a few hours of fantastic sex.

  “Can I use the landline here?” she asked without expression. “I need to keep in touch.” Conan might exist in his own world, but she didn’t.

  “Nope, that can be traced. They don’t have disposable phones up here that I can find. I’ll try to make it back tonight and bring one with me.”

  His voice didn’t reveal anything, but Dorrie heard the expectation in the words he didn’t say. If he came back tonight, it would be to sleep with her. She was undecided on the wisdom of that, especially in front of the kids, but more particularly if he just thought her an easy lay.

  But she was confused and afraid and wanted him to return tonight, so she nodded as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Maybe I’ll take a nap,” she said. If he believed that, she’d sell him a bridge in Shanghai.

  “Excellent idea.” He kissed her forehead. “Use your magic for good, grasshopper.”

  And he left, just like that. Flinging objects wasn’t sufficient to relieve her frustration. She’d have to blow up his car before he’d even notice that she was steaming.

  Take a nap, indeed. She was too wrought up to do more than pace.

  Someone had shot her. Even knowing Feng Li was free again didn’t explain anything. Feng Li was too old to be the shooter she vaguely remembered seeing at the office.

  Why the kids? Why now?

  She needed to call Tillie and tell her she was fine so she could inform everyone else. She needed to see how her father was doing. And she ought to talk to Amy, see what the kids liked to eat, what their schedules were, if she could have schoolwork sent with them. Get the real story.

  She couldn’t imagine anyone tracing a landline to locate her, but she didn’t want to risk the kids either. Checking the windows, she decided there should be enough light to last another hour or two.

  Next step was hunting through closets in hopes of finding something wearable. There was a lightweight windbreaker in the front closet. That would suffice.

  Without her lotions and brushes, she couldn’t do anything about her hair, so she let it fly free. She didn’t have to be an executive up here. She didn’t know what she was right now—beyond a throbbing ball of conflicting emotion.

  Chapter 21

  It was well after dark before Conan returned to El Padre with three overexcited kids. He’d learned kids and dogs didn’t fit well into pickup trucks and had to exchange Oz’s wheels for a friend’s minivan. Then dictator-in-training Alexis had yelled at him for not having a car seat for Christopher. And Toto had peed on the floor in agitation.

  But the roomy van held all their toys and bags of clothes and Dorrie’s stuff and the weird perishables she had stocked in his refrigerator, with room left over for his beer. As the kids fought over who would sit in which seat, Conan had a feeling he’d need beer before the night was over. With their exotic good looks, the kids were cute as hell, but too smart for their own damned good.

  His heart nearly stopped when he turned up the drive and saw no lights on in the house where he’d left Dorrie. Taking a deep breath, he remembered she’d mentioned a nap. It was after ten now. Maybe she’d lost more blood than he’d thought and had fallen asleep again. He knew extremely little about the care and feeding of women, particularly delicate drama queens.

  He had Christopher, the youngest and the one with his mother’s light hair, take Toto’s leash, while Alexis and Brandon gathered up the first load of clothes. Hefting a cardboard box of supplies, Conan tested the cottage door. She’d locked it. That was good, he supposed. Balancing the box on one arm, he retrieved the key from under the frog.

  The kids poured into the house with all the racket of a freight train. Conan winced, but he really needed Dorrie to help out here. The noise ought to bring her running.

  It didn’t.

  His adrenaline still pumped from earlier, he panicked too easily. He set the box down in the kitchen and strode down the hall to the bedroom.

  She wasn’t there. Hastily flinging the cottage’s few doors, he realized she wasn’t anywhere, and the fear he’d been fighting took over.

  She had no phone. Without his usual equipment, he wa
s isolated and helpless. He had no way of finding her. What in hell did other people do at times like this? Call the police? And tell them what?

  Call family and get Oz involved? His brother lived on the other side of town, but he knew everybody. Maybe he’d know someone who had seen her. Conan despised asking for help, but he couldn’t risk Dorrie over his own personal issues.

  The kids were clamoring for food and the Internet and the dog was jumping all over everything his old arthritic legs could reach. How the shit did anyone think like this?

  Conan directed the two eldest to finish emptying the van while he dug out his phone and told Christopher to fix peanut butter sandwiches. The six-year-old was making an unholy mess, but it kept him occupied while Conan tried to figure out just exactly what to tell big brother.

  Before he could finish hitting Oz’s number, he heard Alexis entering, chattering happily. The familiar feminine reply definitely wasn’t Brandon. Conan shut off his phone, stuck it on his belt, and pretended he knew what he was doing as he put the groceries away. Did bananas go in the refrigerator?

  He wanted to shout and bellow and ask what the damned hell she’d been doing outside in the dark, but instinct said that wouldn’t be productive. Dorrie had been shouted at all her life. She didn’t need it from him. Or maybe he just wanted to get laid again.

  The memory of the incredible sex tamped down some of his simmering terror. He forced his fears back into his shell and waited for logical explanation for exposing him to this mind-bending freak-out.

  “You’re back,” Dorrie said happily, entering the kitchen and obviously unaware he was about to implode. “I was afraid I’d have to spend the night alone.”

  Despite her injured shoulder, she had brought in more bags from the van. When he glanced her way, she was looking at him curiously. She was wearing a ridiculous jacket over the hospital scrubs, with her hair exploding around her face. She had to be the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. And he wanted to strangle her for her cluelessness.