Simply Irresistible

by Grayson, Kristine

  “I didn’t think,” he said after a moment. “If I’d considered it, I would’ve realized that might happen. You and I are so attuned…”

  The cat’s ears flattened, as if she had understood what Dex was saying and didn’t like it.

  “This has never happened to you before?” Vivian asked, and there was an edge to her voice. Anger. She was blaming him for this. The anger was coming out of her fear, and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop it.

  Dex looked up. He seemed embarrassed. It felt odd to guess at his emotions. She had known them so intimately from the moment she met him that it almost felt as if part of him were missing.

  “No,” he said. “It’s never happened to me before. Has it ever happened to you?”

  She shoved her glasses up her nose with her forefinger, not because they’d been sliding down but because it gave her something to do while she remembered. She hadn’t been kissed a lot. In high school, the boys had considered her geeky. In college, she’d dated a few times, but the lack of connection she had felt with the boys there had actually bothered her.

  Once she graduated, she’d been more focused on building her psychic hotline than on dating. Or maybe, as Travers said, she focused on her psychic hotline because she wanted to avoid dating.

  She had a connection with her family, especially Megan and Aunt Eugenia. She loved Travers and Kyle, but Dex was the first person to make her feel complete—and the very thought embarrassed her.

  “It’s never happened to me either,” she said. “At least not when I was kissing someone.”

  That last statement made him raise his eyebrows. “When did it happen?”

  “When I was a little girl.” Vivian ran her hands over her thighs, looking down. The couch had pilled—probably from generations of cats scratching on it. The Siamese was still glaring at her, but the cats on the coffee table had gone back to sleep. “Sometimes people’s emotions were so strong that I thought they were my emotions.”

  Dex was watching her as intently as the Siamese was, only his expression had none of her malevolence. “How’d you fix that?”

  “My Aunt Eugenia.” Vivian frowned. Aunt Eugenia again. What was it about her that had been triggered today? And when? Something to do with her death.

  “What did your Aunt Eugenia do?” Dex asked.

  “After this morning, I would guess she put some kind of spell on me so that my reactions wouldn’t be tied into other people’s. But at the time, I thought she taught me how to fix it.”

  “Maybe she did.” Dex pulled his hands out of his pockets. He picked up the Siamese. She yowled at him and tried to bite his fingers, but he didn’t seem to care, setting her on the floor. “What did she have you do?”

  “Pretend there was a wall between me and other people,” Vivian said.

  “That’s the right solution,” Dex said, “although if you do it all the time, you don’t feel anything. Has it been hard for you to get close to people?”

  Vivian started. She had just been thinking about that. Was that because of what Aunt Eugenia had taught her? Vivian had been distant from everyone around her except her family because there had literally been a wall between her and the rest of the world?

  Dex sat on the arm of the couch, where the Siamese had been. “It’s kind of like the glass jar you put around the building. It was there. It was real enough that it protected the Fates and real enough for this person who’s after them to touch it, and figure out who you are.”

  Vivian turned toward him.

  “It’s wrong, Viv, for us to say you won’t come into your magic until you’re older. You’ve already got some of it. That’s what your mental powers are. Just a hint of the magic to come.”

  She hadn’t moved. There was still no connection between them, but she didn’t need it. Not at the moment. He was being sincere and caring all at the same time.

  “What we all mean when we say you haven’t come into your powers is that they arrive one day, at full strength and usually out of control, no matter how much training a person has had.”

  He glanced out the window, clearly lost in a memory. Of the day he had gotten his powers? If what everyone had told her was true, that would have been more than eighty years ago. Would he remember what that trauma was like, then? Would it still bother him?

  She wanted to ask, but she knew that she was merely diverting him, that some part of her didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She was afraid of this, just like she had been afraid when her Aunt Eugenia had called her over the years, asking her to come to Portland. To explore her future, Eugenia used to say. To see what was possible in the world.

  Vivian hadn’t wanted to see what was possible. She knew. She had experienced the emotions, the thoughts, the fears of other people. She didn’t need to experience any of her own.

  “You haven’t gotten your full powers yet,” Dex said, turning back toward her. He had such compassion in his eyes. She wanted to touch him. But she wouldn’t. She wasn’t ready. “You won’t get those for thirty years or so. But when they come, you’ll be one of the most powerful mages ever. You’ll probably be more powerful than all of the people you met at Quixotic today. More powerful than the person who’s after the Fates. The psychic powers you have—the mental powers—are amazing. What you did earlier today would be difficult for some people who’ve come into their full powers. You did it on one-one-hundredth of your strength.”

  Vivian rubbed her hands together. She was shivering again, and she wasn’t sure when that started.

  “What does that have to do with—what happened in the kitchen?” she asked.

  He bit his lower lip, as if he didn’t want to say. But he straightened and looked at her. “For whatever reason, there was no wall between us. Maybe because you were using so much of your mental abilities to maintain the protection around your building when we met. Or maybe—the connection between us is strong enough to get past your natural defenses. I don’t know. But what happened was so overwhelming because we were—I don’t know. Naked with each other. Mentally, I mean.”

  His cheeks were a faint pink. He seemed as uncomfortable as she felt.

  “Then why is the connection gone now?” she asked. “Have I done that?”

  He shook his head, stood, and shoved his hands in his pockets again. Then he walked to the window. The cats sleeping on the coffee table raised their heads. One cat rolled over on her back, paws in the air, asking him to pet her stomach.

  He didn’t. It was as if he didn’t see her.

  “I did it,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you, Viv. Ever. I should have realized what was going on. I just didn’t think. I’d been wanting to kiss you all day.”

  He was staring at the curtains as if he could see through them. She wondered if he could

  “What you did,” Vivian said. “Can I do it?”

  Dex’s back became rigid. She wondered if he misunderstood what she was asking. All she wanted to do was control what happened to her mind—to her self. She didn’t want to cut him out of her life. In fact, she was feeling better, knowing that what had happened hadn’t been intentional, and was something that could be prevented.

  Or could be chosen, if they so desired.

  Her cheeks grew warm. She put both hands on them, feeling their heat. Sex with him would be spectacular. It would be beyond intimacy. It would be—

  “Yeah,” he said so softly she almost didn’t hear him. “You can.”

  She let out a long breath. “How?”

  “If your mind can visualize it, you can create it, Viv.”

  “You mean if I imagine disappearing, I will?”

  He shook his head. He still hadn’t turned around. “No. What you have is the ability to create things—walls, glass jars—with your thoughts. It will take a lot of energy for you to sustain what you’ve created, especially if you create a lot of things or very large things like that glass jar. But you can do it, for now. Later, you’ll be able to do spells.”

  She nodde
d. Then realized he couldn’t see her. The warmth was receding from her cheeks. “I understand. So I couldn’t have made that thing on my neck go away like Andrew Vari did, but I could have prevented it from happening by putting a shield on my neck.”

  “Exactly,” Dex said.

  Vivian swallowed. This next was hard. “I have a question—not about you. But it’s about defending myself.”

  “Okay.”

  “Would you mind turning around so that I can see you?” She missed looking at his face.

  Dex turned. His expression was guarded. He apparently couldn’t tell what kind of footing they were on.

  “If I get attacked again by that person, or if someone I don’t like enters my mind, can I protect myself?”

  “Their mind is as open to you as yours is to them,” Dex said. “If you’re strong enough, you can probably use their own powers against them.”

  “Or they can use mine against me.”

  “Someone who has that ability,” Dex said, “usually has come into their magic. A person like you is rare, Vivian.”

  She was beginning to understand that. She stood up and extended a hand to him.

  He stared at her hand as if he didn’t know what to do with it. Then, after a moment, he put his fingers in her palm.

  She closed her fingers over his and pulled him close. “Kiss me again, Dex.”

  “Viv, I—”

  “I know what to expect now,” she said. “Kiss me again.”

  He was standing so close to her that she could feel his body’s heat. Yet he wasn’t touching her. “Without barriers?”

  “Without barriers,” she said.

  He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close. She could feel his hesitation and his concern, his fear of losing her after he’d found her.

  The walls had disappeared.

  She smiled at him, let him feel her reassurance. He smiled back, then bent down. She tilted her head upward at the same time and their lips met.

  The kiss was everything she had hoped for—and more. She tasted him, she touched him, she lived inside his mind, inside his soul. He was part of her and she was part of him, and yet they were together—two people who loved each other, becoming one person.

  She was dimly aware of him lifting her, holding her against his chest, just as Superman used to do with Lois Lane—just as Vivian had dreamed.

  Dex had found that dream in her mind, reacted to it, and was helping her live it.

  She found dreams in his mind too, and she smiled because she knew she could fulfill his fantasies like he was fulfilling hers.

  He carried her to the bedroom, still kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let the fantasies begin.

  EIGHTEEN

  IT HAD TAKEN ERIS a few hours, but she had finally managed to lose her A-team. Sturgis was using the facilities at the local affiliate, puffing himself up with importance as he spoke in front of their cameras. Kronski was lining up stories for the following day, and Suzanne was doing the actual grunt work. Eris had no idea what her camera operators were doing, but she really didn’t care. They’d been busy enough since they’d arrived in Portland.

  Hard to believe they’d only been in the city a few hours. It felt like a few days. She’d used more magic than she had planned, and she was tired.

  At least Strife was gone for the time being. He had irritated her too much that morning, and she was afraid he’d cause her team to ask too many questions. She had him searching for traces of the Fates near any place that could have a cave.

  She would rest, just briefly, and then she’d go after Grant herself. Grant and Kinneally, who thought themselves invulnerable.

  Eris opened the door to her hotel room and flicked on the light. The air felt different. Someone had been in here.

  She scanned the large living room, with its high ceiling and built-in fireplace. Her briefcase remained on the antique desk, locked, and her Palm Pilot sat on the coffee table next to the half-full pot of coffee she had ordered when she checked in. Even her empty coffee cup, its interior stained and ringed, remained beside it.

  The television was off. She never left the television off. She grabbed the remote, which had been resting on the end table beside the upholstered chair, and clicked on CNN. Talking heads pontificated about some unimportant Congressional maneuver and, after a few minutes of scanning, she saw nothing about the disappearing building—even though she knew that CNN had covered the story too.

  She muted the sound and went into the bedroom. The bed was still made, with the breakfast room service menu carefully placed on the pillow so that she couldn’t miss it. She peered into the bathroom. Extra towels sat on the edge of the counter.

  Eris had forgotten that she had ordered them, as she always did when she arrived in a new hotel. Hotels had gotten stingy with towels in the past decade, and, whether she needed the towels or not, she asked for more.

  Better to let the hotel know what kind of customer she would be up front. That way, they were careful with her requests.

  So the maid had been here and meticulously shut off both televisions, cleaning up slightly, before leaving the towels as she had been instructed. Waste not want not—a phrase that had always driven Eris insane.

  Eris opened the cabinet that hid the bedroom’s television, pulled the TV’s movable tray out, and clicked on that set with one long red-tipped fingernail. This time, she found KAHS and watched her own talking heads pontificate about the same unimportant Congressional hearing.

  No wonder cable news station ratings splintered so badly. The stations covered the same stories.

  She would have to change that.

  After she took care of those Fates.

  Eris sat down on the bed and pulled off her high heels, rubbing her nylon-covered feet. Sometimes she thought the torture of proper clothing in this century was worse than the tortures she’d suffered at the hands of the Fates.

  Then she would remember those early years and realized nothing could compare. All that organization the Fates had forced upon her had been hideous. Mazes, chess, eventually puzzles—even the music of precision freaks like Bach. Everything in its place and a place for everything. If she moved one small item an iota to the right or left, so that it was just slightly out of place, the Fates would start her punishment all over again.

  Eris kicked her shoes, sending them sprawling across the floor. Mess. Glorious mess. It wasn’t the same as chaos proper, but it would do.

  What the Fates failed to realize was that Eris’s plan wouldn’t work without their years of torture. She had to learn about order and organization in order to subvert it.

  She leaned back on the bed. The meal at Quixotic had been too heavy. She wasn’t used to eating so well without walking back to the office. Manhattan was the perfect place for a civilized person to get exercise.

  But the meal at Quixotic had given her a chance to watch Blackstone in his native environment. He used his charm to please his customers and kept his magic subverted. No one in Hicksville suspected that they were home to one of the larger magical communities in the United States, and that their most popular restaurant was the one run by a thousand-year-old mage.

  Not that it mattered to her. Soon Blackstone would be unimportant. Eris sighed and stood up. She reached into her overnight bag and removed a pair of blue jeans, a summer sweater, and a pair of Nikes. Time to dress like the natives. Then she had to find out where Dexter Grant lived.

  She could probably spell herself there, but that would take away her advantage. Instead, she’d find his house on her own, even though no one had told her where it was.

  If she had to, she’d use magic. But first, she’d start like all good reporters did. Or, at least, she’d start like all good reporters used to, before the days of high-speed cable Internet access.

  She’d start with the phone book.

  ***

  If someone had told Vivian she could fall completely and utterly in love with a man she’d known less
than twenty-four hours, she would have laughed. She would have said it was impossible to get to know someone well in that short a time.

  Yet she knew everything about Dex, everything she needed to know, and more. She had been intimate with him in ways that she hadn’t believed possible.

  She was cuddled against him, her bare skin against his. His hand rubbed her back, while her arm was around his chest. He was muscular and strong, his body as beautiful as she had thought it would be, and she had lingered over it, examining all of it, learning everything she could about it, and this side of Dexter Grant.

  Their lovemaking had been as phenomenal as the kiss—more phenomenal in its own way. Overwhelming, completing, and yet so unique that she wasn’t sure they would ever be able to achieve this kind of greatness again.

  Whenever she felt as if she were about to lose herself, she let Dex know, and then she put up a small barrier inside her mind, just small enough to make her feel safe. It didn’t bother him—and she checked in every way she could—his emotions, his thoughts, his actions. He seemed fine with her need to remain separate.

  He also seemed to enjoy their togetherness.

  One light was on beside the bed. Blackout curtains made it seem as if it were the middle of the night, although the alarm clock on the end table said it was barely four o’clock in the afternoon.

  The room was lived in, obviously a single man’s space. Clothing covered a chair and a nearby table. A basket of folded laundry bore the marks left by sleeping cats. Tennis shoes covered the floor, as well as books of all types.

  His bed was small but comfortable, clearly not a place that he usually shared with anyone but cats. A few of them had crowded on, now that the activity had settled down. The terrier peered into the room, saw Viv, and ran for the door.

  “Toto,” Dex said. “It’s okay.”

  “Toto?” Vivian asked. That seemed like a mundane name for a terrier, at least from a man who had named his control-freak Siamese after the Big Nurse in Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.