by Judi Fennell
But he didn’t. And she couldn’t.
“Are you okay?” Zane asked, his fingers still holding hers.
She nodded, her composure having flown off somewhere.
“Good. I’ll get you another marshmallow. I hate eating s’mores alone.” His smile took away some of the tension, and by the time they’d finished making the snacks, the rest of it was gone.
And then Merlin showed up.
“Hey, kids, how’s it shakin’?” asked the phoenix, proceeding to do just that, flinging feathers—striped zebra ones—all over the place. “Hey, s’mores! Cool! Love me some of those. Anyone up for toasting one for me?”
Zane swung a flaming marshmallow toward him. “Is there a reason for this visit, or are you just always around to annoy?”
“Sheesh. What rotten apple did you eat today? Snow White’s stepmother hasn’t been by, has she? They swore she wouldn’t be able to get out of the new nursing home, but I wouldn’t put anything by that old broad. She’s only gotten craftier in her insanity.” He snapped the marshmallow off the stick.
“Speaking of insanity.” Zane twirled the stick above Merlin’s head. “How much longer are we going to be graced with your presence? And your feathers?”
“Chill, will ya, big guy? I got some news you’re going to want to hear.”
Zane glared at Merlin but put the stick down. “What is it?”
“Seems like your buddy Gar is planning a surprise for you.”
“What kind of a surprise?”
“Sheesh, let me tell it my way, already.”
“I don’t have time for all the grandstanding, bird. Just get to the point.”
Merlin sighed loud and long and put-out. “Fine. You really are a killjoy, aren’t you?” He looked at Vana. “Just like his great-grandfather, ain’t he?”
Zane like Peter? Aside from the color of their eyes, they couldn’t be more different.
“Anyhow, here’s the Cliffs Notes version. Your buddy Gar has been meeting with the city inspector’s office, trying to slip this house out from under you any way he can. Eminent domain, getting it condemned, running title searches and probably even your credit history for all I know. He’s calling in all sorts of favors. Seems the guy’s kept a checklist since high school and a lot of people are in his pockets.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah, well, you’d think his mother would be if she birthed him, wouldn’t you? But, poor thing, she’s a mouse of a woman. Her husband on the other hand… Gary is definitely a chip off the old blockhead.”
“He’s not going to get away with this.”
“Actually, I think he kinda might. Question is, which head honcho is going to cave first? For such a sleepy place there sure is a lot of cheatin’ and snortin’ and embezzlement going on around here. And your man, Gar, knows about it all.”
Zane swiped a hand through his hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“You might want to take him up on his offer to buy you out. After all, he did say you could name your price.”
“No!” Zane answered at the same time she did. Vana didn’t care that they did so for different reasons; it was the first time they’d agreed about something having to do with the house.
Merlin held up his wings. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what I know. It’s up to you two to figure out what you’re going to do, but I’d suggest you come up with something quick because if I know Gary—and unfortunately I do—that guy is going to have more than a couple of tricks up his sleeve.”
Chapter 28
Zane had spread drop cloths on the floor and moved the furniture to the center of the room by the time she’d materialized from her bottle the next morning. He was already rolling primer onto the second wall.
The first one was almost back to pink.
He dropped the roller with a curse when he saw her. “Vana, please. Can you fix this?”
She linked her fingers and took a deep breath. She was going to miss that color. It was the same color as her gemstone. Bright and happy, and it had always made her smile. “I can try.” She puckered up.
“Wait.”
She stopped mid-pucker. “What?”
“What’ll happen if, you know… it doesn’t work?”
She lost the pucker. Nothing like instilling confidence. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think, that is… should I kiss you?”
After the night she’d spent last night? Aching and lonely and frustrated? Vana shook her head. Forget what his kiss would do to her magic; she had to think about what it’d do to her. “No, this should be fairly straightforward.”
He didn’t look convinced.
Truth was, she wasn’t either. But what was the worst that would happen? The gargoyles would turn to stone?
Speaking of which, she should probably look for them at some point. They could stand as still as statues—duh—but she didn’t want anyone accidentally bumping into them. Both the gargoyles and their finders would get the shock of their lives.
She blew out a breath and put that on her mental to-do list. Then she closed her eyes, puckered up, and kissed the air.
The walls were still pink.
Zane was looking out the window. “Well, the good news is that the porch isn’t moving.”
In any other household, that sentence would make no sense.
“Okay. Fine.” She flung her arms to her sides. “You can kiss me.”
That was her, team player. Taking one for the team.
Liar extraordinaire.
Zane took a step toward her. Hesitant. As if he didn’t quite know what to make of her—a far cry from how he’d looked at her two nights ago.
Yep, she must have really changed the way he felt about her during that last time travel. She was going to have to check the chapter again to see if DeeDee had mentioned that side effect.
“I’m not going to turn you into a toad or anything, Zane. Only fairy princesses can do that, and we’re all agreed that a fairy princess is one thing I’m definitely not.” No, she spent her time cooped up in a bottle while those chicks flounced around castles and gardens with handsome princes and unicorns and fairy godmothers. She, lucky lady that she was, got Merlin, the sarcastic firecracker.
“I seriously do not want to know about any of that,” Zane said, closing the gap between them to mere inches so their toes were touching. Until his breath was warm on her cheek and her breasts were barely grazing his chest. Close enough that she could feel each breath he took—each shallow, shaky breath—yet far enough away for her to ache with wanting to be pressed against him.
She tilted her head back. She couldn’t help herself. Her mind might be shying away from this, but her body was one hundred percent on board.
She watched his lips descend until he was so close she had to close her eyes or go cross-eyed.
And then he kissed her.
Soft, gentle, the kiss still reached deep down into her soul and tugged every bit of love out of it, drawing it through her veins and up around her heart, tying it up in one big bow before passing through her lips into his, giving him every bit of what was inside of her.
She was in so much trouble.
His lips lingered a few more seconds. Just long enough to make her knees wobble.
“Go ahead, Vana,” he whispered against her lips. “Work your magic.”
He’d certainly worked his. She could feel it, the quicksilver tumbling and flowing through her, carrying all her magic with it.
She puckered up, kissed the air, then opened her eyes.
The walls were sunshine yellow.
“Wow,” Zane whispered, and it was absolutely the best word for what had just happened.
He gripped her arms a bit tighter and smiled into her eyes. “You did great, Vana.”
She could only smile back while she searched for her breath.
“Now what about the rest of the house?”
“What?” That kiss must have rattle
d her brain. Or his.
“The rest of the house. With your magic working, you can fix it up now. Floorboards, paint, trim, the appliances, any cracked windows. Everything.”
“But I thought you didn’t want to use magic.”
“That was before Gary got involved. I need you to do a general ‘make the whole house perfect’ spell because I’m not giving him any ammunition to condemn this house. I’ve been thinking about it all night.”
Pity, she’d been thinking of something completely different. “I told you, Zane. I don’t do spells.”
He waved his hands. “Incantation, mumbo-jumbo, whatever it is that you do.”
Whatever it is that you do. As if it were the easiest thing in the world to do magic. Aside from the gods who could do it without thought, magic required concentration. Knowledge and know-how and an inherent ability she didn’t have.
Vana tamped down the utter dejection that thought brought, focused on what he wanted, and kissed the air.
Nothing. No quicksilver, no magic, no feeling.
“Well?” Zane’s smile was hopeful.
Hers… not so much. “I can’t.”
Now his faded, too. “What? Sure you can. You just blow a kiss and…”
She shook her head. “It’s not working again.”
“Oh.”
Yeah. Oh.
“I should kiss you again, shouldn’t I?”
No, he shouldn’t kiss her again. She wanted him to want to kiss her again. To need to. Not do it for the end result. The best part about a kiss was the journey.
Vana almost stamped her foot in frustration, but the poor guy wasn’t responsible for her stupid heart and feelings. “I think… well, it’d probably be a good idea.”
He nodded as if it were his solemn duty, while she stood where she was, bracing for his touch. She closed her eyes and got lost in his kiss all over again.
Zane held her away from him. Only inches, but each one was killing him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him and do a hell of a lot more than kiss her.
But he wouldn’t. It’d taken every ounce of control to stop the last kiss, and somehow he needed to summon that control again to keep this one from getting out of hand.
But, man, he did not want to.
Her lips trembled beneath his and her breasts quivered against his chest, so softly he might have imagined it, but the tightness in his shorts argued that he hadn’t.
What was his argument for not wanting to do this again? Oh, right. Magic. Genie. Opposite sides of the house issue. A complication he didn’t need. Life throwing him enough curves.
But it’d also thrown him her curves and he wanted them plastered against him, filling his hands, wrapped around him as if there were no tomorrow.
He slid his arms around her shoulders; he couldn’t not hold her.
Her chin dipped slightly, and her lips parted. He couldn’t not slip his tongue inside.
And then she moaned softly, and he couldn’t not deepen the kiss. Couldn’t not slide one hand down her back, tracing all the curves. Couldn’t not twine his fingers in her hair and tug her head back just a little more, open her mouth a little wider, taste her a little deeper.
Her fingertips brushed his rib cage, and Zane couldn’t not crush her to him.
And then all bets were off. The kiss turned hot and sexy and steamy as all hell.
He fanned her hair around them as her breasts tightened and swelled against his chest. His cock did the same thing against her abdomen, as his knees tightened when hers wobbled. He took her weight in his hands—yes, holding her by the ass, but it fit so damn perfectly he just had to.
She shifted just a bit, and there, sweet Jesus, her hand slid beneath his shirt, the warmth of her palm searing his back like a branding iron. He wanted to take off every stitch of his clothing and hers and lay her down on the drop cloth and pound into her to the rhythm of the blood pounding through his ears.
Wait.
That wasn’t blood.
Someone was knocking on the front door.
“Yoo-hoo! Hello? Anyone home?”
Vana stopped moving in his arms. Truly a sacrilege.
The door rattled again. “Hello?”
Vana pulled back, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. Her lips swollen and wet.
He couldn’t not kiss them again.
“Mr. Harrison, it’s Mrs. Ertel.”
He couldn’t not pretend the woman wasn’t there. He pulled his lips from Vana’s—reluctantly—and held on to her until he was sure she could stand. And that he could.
“She’s not going to go away,” he muttered.
Vana nodded.
He brushed a strand of hair from her bottom lip. “I’ll see how quickly I can get rid of her.”
He left her there. Felt her watching him walk out of the room. Tasted her all the way down three flights of steps to the front door—which he might have yanked open a bit too hard because Mrs. Ertel gasped. Or maybe she gasped because—
Zane looked down. No, his shirt was still buttoned and his cock was behaving itself better than his manners were.
He pasted a smile on his face. “Hello, Mrs. Ertel.”
The woman recovered and held up a basket. “I wanted to welcome you home so I thought I’d stop by with my homemade cherry pie.”
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you. I appreciate you and Mr. Ertel looking after the place. I’ll handle it now that I’m here.”
“Well, I, that is, we, Mr. Ertel and I, we were wondering if you’re planning to move back in because, you see, we’ve gotten used to our cable television and the money you’ve paid us has helped out with that, and, well, if you’re going to be taking care of things from now on, we’ll just have to find another way to pay for it. I do love those real housewives, you know. Such entertainment.”
Zane had no clue what she was talking about. He couldn’t imagine a show about housewives being all that entertaining, but then he wasn’t Mrs. Ertel. But he realized he hadn’t thought how selling the house would affect her. Her husband had had an accident and was on disability. They obviously counted on the money he paid them.
“I’m not sure what my plans are at the moment, Mrs. Ertel. But don’t worry. This month’s check will still be coming. Next month’s, too.” And at least six more after that. Maybe a year. It wasn’t as if it’d break him. Even playing second string.
“Aren’t you a sweet boy! I told Jack you’d say that.” She patted his arm. “Well, I best be going and let you get back to whatever you were doing.”
Yeah, he wanted to get back to what he’d been doing, too.
“Oh, by the way.” Halfway to the porch steps, she turned back with a finger against her bottom lip, a pose he remembered really well from his days of dodging the gossipmongers.
“Is there a reason, I mean, that is, do you know there’s pink smoke coming from your chimney?”
Zane wanted to congratulate himself for not altering one iota of the smile on his face. “Yes, I am aware of that.”
“Oh.” Her finger curled into her hand and she laughed an insincere, inquisitive laugh. “It’s just that I’ve never seen pink smoke before.”
“It’s a new way of cleaning out a chimney,” he deadpanned.
“Ah.” She nodded, her mouth twitching as if it wanted to disbelieve him but wasn’t sure she should. “Well, then, I’ll be going. I hope you and your lady friend enjoy the pie.”
Lady friend. A term that could mean a whole host of things, and he wasn’t about to clarify any of them for her. “We will. Thank you, Mrs. Ertel.”
He stood in the doorway, watching her walk all the way down the path and get into her car. The woman was too curious for his own good. He didn’t need her waltzing back in here on the pretext of wanting to ask him something else just to satisfy her curiosity.
He waved good-bye as she drove away and watched her make all three bends in his driveway, then closed the door, set the pie on top of an unusually quiet H
enry, and ran up the steps to the bedroom.
“That was June Ertel,” he explained when he walked back in to find Vana by the window. “I’ve been paying her and her husband to look after the house.”
Vana nodded. “I recognized her voice. They come over every Saturday. She stays in the kitchen while he checks the rest of the house. He repaired the window in the attic once when a storm had sent a branch through it. I’d hoped he’d find the box I was in and open it, but that never happened.”
“It must have been lonely in there, huh?”
She shrugged. “Part of the job.”
The job. Genie. Right.
“So, um, how’d your magic work while I was downstairs?”
“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t want to risk something happening while she was here.”
“Ah.”
“Yes.”
They were dancing around the kiss as if it’d never happened. As if it weren’t hanging in the air between them, charging every look, every word, every breath with meaning. But it had and it was.
And, Zane wanted it to happen again.
“So any chance you want to try it now?”
“It?”
Crap. He was never like this around women. Uncertain. Unsure. Especially ones who were as into kissing him as much as Vana had been.
He walked over to her and stopped himself just shy of pulling her into his arms. He was sending her mixed signals again. “Vana, I know last night I said I wasn’t coming on to you.”
She walked around him and picked up a paintbrush. “I know. And you also said no more kissing and no more magic.” She pointed the brush at him. “What’s it going to be, Zane? I’m a genie, not a ping-pong ball.”
He had to smile. He liked women who wouldn’t take shit from him or anyone else. And he really liked Vana.
“I’m an ass, okay?”
“What?”
He’d surprised her. Good. Always good for a relationship.
Wait. They weren’t having a relationship. A few kisses did not make a relationship. Hell, a few turns in bed didn’t make a relationship. He’d been clear about that with every woman he’d slept with. Somehow, though, he had a feeling Vana would be different.