by Livia Quinn
“If I told you—”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one—”
“You’d probably run screaming into the night, never to return.”
There was silence on the other end for several seconds. “Considering the source, maybe I should leave now.”
I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes, which seemed to have a pound of grit between them. I didn’t want to lose Ryan, but if he was inclined to leave, now would be better while his view of the world only included terrorists and serial killer bad guys. “You know I wouldn’t try to stop you if you wanted to leave Destiny.”
“You’re serious.” After a pause, Ryan spoke. “Sorry, Jack. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’ve been your wingman for nearly half my life. If I wanted predictable, I would have been a grocery store manager like my dad.”
He heard my relieved sigh through the phone and chuckled. “Was that a test, Laser?” he asked.
“No, Ryan, that was for real,” I said, all humor erased from my voice. “Just… don’t wait forever to change your mind. You may find yourself enlightened about things you’d be healthier and happier not knowing.”
“That was cryptic.”
“Just remember what I said, and Ryan… I’m glad you have my six.”
“Roger that.”
I hung up and went looking for Jordie. “Jordie, if you have to work today, you’d better get a move on,” I yelled down the hallway.
She made a dash from the bathroom to her bedroom and something caught my eye. I stalked down the hall and pounded on her door.
“What have you done?” I called through the closed door, my voice sharp.
“Wha—” Jordie opened the door in her underwear and sleep tunic.
I pushed into her bedroom. “Let me see your hip, Jordie.”
“What is it?"
I pointed at her thigh, “That. What is that?" I asked in a voice that sounded like grinding gravel.
Jordie looked down at her leg and blanched. “I… Daddy?” Her expression was all innocence and confusion but I wasn't buying it. I saw guilt and pleading. “When did you get a tattoo?” I stood in the open door with my arms crossed. “A tattoo doesn’t belong on that body, young lady.”
“I-I didn’t.” Tears filled her voice and her eyes were wide, “Daddy, I didn't.”
“Well, then what the f…” I closed my eyes willing myself to chill, and that chilly expression was what she saw when I looked at her again. “Explain that thing on your thigh that looks very much like a tattoo.”
She blinked and tears streamed down her cheeks. Looking at it again she gasped, “I c-can't. It wasn't there last night.”
That stopped me. I thought about the last few days, the many surprises. I couldn’t vouch for whether the mark—it wasn’t as distinct as a tattoo—had been there the day before or not.
“Please, Daddy, believe me.” She wrapped her arms around my stiff torso, her words muffled into my shirt, “I don’t even like tattoos.”
My arms encircled her automatically. It was true. The musicians and actors displayed on her walls sported more blank skin than most. She’d always been against “inking up” as she called it. I set my chin on top of her head, relief and concern, weighing in proportionately. “Okay, baby, we’re okay. We’ll figure it out later. Go get ready for work; it’s late.”
I didn't know yet what the mark on Jordie's thigh meant, but I reminded myself a good investigator wouldn’t find her guilty before the facts were all in.
Jordie was subdued on the way to Aurora Borealis. I reminded her that her grandparents would pick her up after work since—
“You’re taking Cinderella to the ball.” She actually clapped her hands in delight. “I’m glad I’ll get to see her in that gown at least.”
I smiled. I was looking forward to it as well. “I hope it fits.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will. Tempe’s going to look awesome. Aurora said she’s never been to a dance before in her life.”
That had shocked me. I vowed to make it a memorable night for her because… I was falling for the woman, despite her ‘quirks’, and somebody needed to show her there was more beneath the surface than a delivery person and a storm witch, and more to look forward to than her responsibilities. Being responsible was honorable but you could get caught in that trap and never experience everything life could offer.
I looked over at my daughter. I guess that observation could apply to me as well.
“I love you, baby.”
She smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. “You’re just a big softie, ya know.”
“Yeah, that’s what you’ll think if you really come home with a tattoo, young lady.” I frowned. “Be sure to ask your boss and Tempe about that rash. Maybe Ms. Aurora has a cream or something for it.”
Chapter 20
Tempe
9:15 am Hell to pay…
* * *
Aurora called at nine. “Are you coming by to get your dress?”
“I’ll be there shortly. Bella just left and I was straightening up around here a bit.” Who knew, I might get lucky and bring a certain ex-Navy jock home with me tonight. “I’m not sure how I feel about Jack buying me a dress.”
“Well, don’t think about it then. I dare say, when you see it, that won’t be a problem.” She hung up before I could disagree.
I slipped on some jeans and a t-shirt and walked out to my truck. I could see myself in an evening gown in my ratty old mail truck. Surely I wouldn’t be driving myself to the ball or driving myself home.
I didn’t have enough experience at this.
Hello? Like none.
I made a stop at the fairgrounds to find out what I had to do to get Marty registered for the wiener race. They told me I had until Monday to bring him by the booth and get his temporary collar, racing number and pay the entry fee. I’d have to remind him that I entered a black and tan so he didn’t show up as that scruffy gray mixed mutt version I saw him in the other night.
They were working on the course. Volunteers sat amid sheets of plywood and boards, creating a dozen or more long narrow doghouses which would act as starting gates. At the other end of the course workmen were drawing the finish line and marking it with bright pink tape. I overheard one woman talking to her friend about how she planned to get her dog to cross the line first. She apparently had a female in heat and planned to hold her at the other end so her male would have “incentive” to finish strong.
I had no idea a dog race could engender such ferocity, but I was sure there would be more than just her dog hotfooting it to that corner of the end zone. Which just might work in Marty’s favor.
* * *
Aurora and Jordie were busy changing out a window in the front of the shop when I got there. “Hey, divas! Getting rid of the Mardi Gras colors?”
“Hi, Tempe,” Jordie called. “We’re putting the last minute ‘arrivals’ for Mardi Gras in that window and the new Spring fashions in this one.” She beamed, proud of her new vernacular.
Aurora pointed to a purse on the floor behind Jordie. “Jordie, why don’t you try your hand at this window and I’ll get Tempe fixed up.”
“You mean, by myself?” Jordie fist pumped a silent yes.
“Totally. Let’s see what you come up with. When you’re done I’ll critique it, and we’ll put the finishing touches on it.” She eased the beaded room divider aside for me and called over her shoulder, “Yell if you need anything.”
I accepted a cup of tea from her—store bought Mango Jasmine—and we sat at the little iron table in the other room watching Jordie sort through the purses, dresses, shoes and jewelry building her strategy for the window.
“I’m so glad you suggested I hire that teenager.” Aurora watched Jordie thoughtfully for a moment before turning to me. “Are you ready to see your dress?”
I nodded.
She pointed to a dress bag hanging on the wall and a tray of accessories nearby. “Let’s do it.”
*
* *
Aurora was right. The dress was beyond beautiful. I tried to see myself through Jack’s eyes. What had he said? He’d like to see me all dressed up. He’d chosen a dress of storm cloud blue crinoline or… “What do you call this stuff?” I raised the fabric of the skirt carefully.
“It’s tulle. I’ll give you the runway spiel. ‘Eye catching stonework of silver, aquamarine, and rainbow hues decorate the strapless sweetheart neckline and torso of this lovely designer creation. The slender waistline drips with ribbons of silver and smoke colored lace embedded with more crystals. Embroidered flowers, rhinestones and beads cover the soft ombre layers of tulle that overlay a flesh toned skirt of lace covered satin’.”
I stared at myself in the mirror as Aurora murmured for me to, “Lift my feet… turn this way.” She placed long Swarkovsky earrings in my ears and brushed my hair. “I’d use a curling iron but I don’t want to risk getting heat near that skirt.”
Her voice was just noise. I was mesmerized by the vision of the woman in the three-way mirror. She tilted her head and studied me. I was alien to her as well. “I don’t deserve this.”
Aurora exploded, and I thought she was going to throw the brush. “Tempest Pomeroy. Where did that come from?”
“I—it’s not me. I can’t be her.” My heart was pounding, and I turned, intending to slip out of the dress and don my familiar jeans, but Jack stood in the doorway. Aurora walked out of the room pulling the curtain across the opening.
I looked down at the dress, my hands grasping the skirt to have something to do.
“Turn around and look in the mirror,” he said quietly.
I did, careful not to catch the heel of my shoe in the skirt. When I looked up he was behind the woman, his eyes burning, like hot ice or the palest silver fog. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” His voice was deep, hoarse. He drew his hands down the sides of her dress barely touching it, as if she were a precious treasure. “I can’t stop looking at you.”
It was a dream, a story, and I was the heroine… “No, this isn’t real. Jack, I’m not this…” My insides churned; doubt, anticipation and fear warring inside me. I wanted this more than I’d wanted anything ever, but I couldn’t envision it, couldn’t mesh the me I knew with this woman staring back at me. She looked like Tempe but different. Beautiful. I should use the confidence her image gave me, but I was afraid, afraid there’d be hell to pay. Wasn’t it safer not to dream?
“I don’t know, Jack.”
“I feel your skin under my hands. You’re real. I knew you’d look awesome in that dress. This is the you I see every day; just in different clothing. Tonight, I’ll look different, too, but I’ll still be the man that wants you.”
I watched him lean toward her. Felt him kiss my neck. “And I still want to peel all that glitter and lace off inch…” kiss… “by”…kiss… “inch.”
I wasn’t looking at her any longer, but the tall sexy man beside her. I wished it were already midnight and the ordeal… “Can we skip the ball, and go straight to—uh…”
He chuckled and his breath warmed my skin. “Nope, because I want to enjoy watching other people watch you, and hate that you’re with me, not them. If you find yourself wanting to run away…” he lifted an ornate silver and crystal mask from the box at his feet and handed it to me by the stem.
I held it up to my face. It was elegant and with it masking my discomfort, I felt an immediate sense of relief, and maybe… a bit daring.
“It helps, doesn’t it?” He grinned at me over my shoulder. “Take care of that dress. I’ll be by to pick you up at seven.”
He stopped short of the door and turned. “I almost forgot. Did Jordie show you and Aurora that rash, on her thigh?”
I shook my head. “She might have shown Aurora but she’s busy with customers. I’ll check it out myself and let you know tonight. Would that be okay?”
“That’ll work.” He gave me another once-over, a thumbs-up, and left smiling. Which put me in a pretty happy mood as well. Tonight was going to so unreal.
* * *
Tempe
7pm Hop in, Cinderella before your coach turns into a pumpkin.
* * *
At five minutes ‘til seven I was still fiddling with the skirt of my dress to keep it from dragging the ground, making sure I didn’t snag it on the heel of shoes that were entirely too high, and worrying with my hair.
The doorbell rang.
I inhaled deeply, eased it out and opened the door, stepping back out of the way.
The man standing on my doorstep bowed, the shiny black of his formal suit reflecting moonlight. He was tall and broad but I didn’t recognize him until he spoke. “Madam, your coach has arrived.”
“Hello, Ryan.”
He smiled.
“Where’s Jack?” I asked attempting to look around him but he blocked my view.
“He’s waiting. Are you ready?”
I grabbed my rhinestone clutch. “I’ll take that for you,” he said and lifted my purse from my fingertips.
As I stepped onto the veranda, the bright moonlight illuminated a mile long, silver limo on the street. Ryan laughed at my gawking expression.
“It wouldn’t fit in the driveway.”
“I guess not.” Ryan took a firm grip on my other hand and placed it around his elbow, as I descended the few steps to the front walk. Then he escorted me to a spot near the street.
I understood why, when the door in the center slid smoothly out and up like a wing. “It’s called a jet door,” Ryan said, grinning. “Kind of appropriate, huh?”
But I wasn’t listening. I was watching Jack as he exited through the jet door. Dressed in his white Navy tails and black pants he looked like a model for a Navy recruitment video. “You’re gorgeous, Jack.” I ran a finger over his white bow tie, rolled the smooth pearl buttons between my fingertips, and lifted one hand to take a closer look at his cuff links.
I angled my eyes up to him seductively. “My hero,” I said. I felt a new sense of power, not the magical kind, but a sense of confidence in myself and… I nearly smiled when I figured it out. The Tempestaerie wasn’t the only being that had quickened during the last few weeks. Tempest, the woman, was coming of age. And tonight at least, she was beautiful, and alluring, and dare I say, sexy. I did smile then, and Jack seemed to read my mind.
Ryan coughed, “I’ll just take my seat behind the wheel.
Jack watched Ryan run around the front of the car then his smiled kicked up slyly. “You embarrassed my wingman.”
“I doubt it.” I pointed toward the car. “I wasn’t expecting this, Jack.”
“That makes it all the more satisfying for me.”
“I don’t know, I’m not really built for this,” I said, looking down.
“Oh, yeah, Sweetheart. Believe me, you’re built for it.” He winked and I slapped my gloves against his shoulder.
“Aren’t you cold?” He ran his hands up and down my arms, a sweet gesture which was totally unnecessary.
“You’re forgetting to whom you’re speaking.”
“Nope.” I got a glimpse of sea-foam green eyes and feathered laugh lines just before he kissed me. A warm casual kiss at first, I felt its magic surging through my veins like warm water shoving ice floes out of the way during a spring thaw. My toes curled in the tight spiky heels. The ice floes were melting fast and I felt desire like never before. The scent of his warm hard body enticed me. At the very least I wanted to crawl into his bed tonight, let him show me the stratosphere again and stay there until morning.
“You two could get down right here, I won’t tell a soul, but it would be a waste of a limo, and a driver, and that rockin’ dress.”
Jack stepped back and grinned, “He has a point.”
I wiped the little smear of lipstick off his lower lip and smiled back. “I agree.” Jack’s eyebrows rose, his eyes crinkling.
Ryan placed one hand on the jet door. “Hop in, then Cinderella. It’ll be pumpkin time before
you know it.”
I didn’t care for the fairytale history of pumpkins and balls so I ignored him, choosing instead to look at the evening as new possibilities, a new reality. One didn’t have to live in a fairytale to be happy. I could see a glimpse of it from here, standing in front of Harmony with this man.
Chapter 21
Tempe
1-900-Psycho
* * *
I felt eyes on me, lots of them, but figured it was because everyone who came through the door was announced, and I was on the arm of a physically imposing Jack Lang, who was a head taller than everyone else. In his Navy dress uniform he oozed sex appeal without even trying.
With the mask hiding my face, it was easier to display a cool facade, any facade, I couldn’t usually pull that off. Mark one up for masks.
Jack chuckled beside me. “Don’t get used to that thing. You’ll have to take it off eventually. The suspension of the law only applies to the hours before the Court is revealed and Fat Tuesday.”
“What law?”
“There’s a law against concealing your face with a mask. But it’s suspended on Fat Tuesday and unofficially waved during the Grand Ball.”
“Oh.”
“Hey.” Montana strode up next to me, her face half covered with a mask of deep blue feathers and gems. Warrior types never sidle, slouch or stroll. She looked me over and shook her head. “Jack, how the hell did you get her into a dress? Don’t bristle, Temp, you look amazing.”
My charming date said, “I could say the same about you, Montana. That’s a stunning costume. What are you, anyway?”
Montana’s long blue-black hair was braided with ribbons and piled loosely on her head with a comb. The woman who cared little for “female trappings” had turned into a seductress. Her dress had a deep royal fitted bodice with spaghetti straps that draped off her shoulders, exposing the circular symbol under the skin of her shoulder blade, and dove to a point below her waist. The skirt’s long feather-light layers danced with each move.