“Yeah, that’s a bit more British than I’d have gone on my own, but I think it works.” She shifted her weight to brace her hands on the edge of the table and lean forward a little. He took it as an invitation to wrap his arms around her and cradle her to his chest. Mostly just because she felt so right there.
“How is it that you can be so calm about this?” she wondered, her voice partially muffled against his shoulder. “You might claim to be gobsmacked, but you don’t act like it. You act like you’re taking it all in stride, which just makes me feel like an even bigger idiot. I feel like I’m on some sort of roller coaster, only someone blindfolded me so I can’t even tell when I should be getting ready to scream.”
He squeezed around her and tried to tease. “Why should you scream? Is the idea of having me in your life really that terrifying?”
She sighed and answered the question seriously. “No. But yes. I’m not terrified of you. You’re just…” She hesitated. “You’re not what I was expecting in a lover.”
“You mean I’m not human.” He didn’t mean it as a condemnation, just as a truth. He knew Corinne had to be wary of the Others, including him, and he couldn’t really blame her for it. She’d been brought up to believe that creatures like him were only to be found in storybooks and scary movies. Even after she’d found out the truth, that legacy represented a lot of mistaken beliefs to overcome.
“That sounds so…”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t invalidate your right to feel that way.” He sighed and took her by the shoulders, cupping the curves in his hands and urging her back far enough that he could look into her face. “Look, I’ll make you a deal. We’ll take this one step at a time, okay? Right now, we’ll concentrate on finding Seoc, and I’ll try not to do anything to scare the pants off you. But in exchange, you’ve got to start trying to get a grip on what we have between us, because I can promise you it isn’t going to go away. And neither am I. Deal?”
She hesitated, her wide brown eyes searching his face for something. She must have found it, or found something she wanted, because she pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “All right. It’s a deal.”
“Thank the Goddess,” he sighed, flashing her a grin and squeezing her shoulders before he lifted her from the table and set her back on her feet. “Now, should we get back to business?”
Before Corinne could respond, Shiny reappeared from the back of the store, followed closely by a bald head that peered around the heavy curtain and fixed on Corinne.
“You’re the reporter?”
NINE
The bald head barely waited for her to nod. In fact, he might not have. “Come on in back. I’m right in the middle of something.”
The head disappeared and Corinne blinked. “Who was that?”
Shiny shrugged. “The owner. You better hurry up. He won’t wait around for you.”
Corinne couldn’t decide whether to feel upset by the interruption, or intensely relieved. Luc might have been ready to steer the conversation back to business, but she still had a few questions she was dying to ask. Like, What the hell are you talking about?Still, it quickly became apparent that Shiny was right and Hibbish didn’t intend to wait around for them.
Gesturing for Luc to follow her, Corinne pushed through the heavy drape and hurried through a short entry then around the corner of a shelving unit. She saw piles of stock, apparently separated by categories, and in some cases by color and/or size. The choices stocked by The Pink Pillow were quite, uh, impressive. Not to mention distracting. One particular battery-operated accessory had her tilting her head this way and that in confusion until she nearly forgot about the rest of her surroundings. She just followed the path through the shelves until she rounded a corner and something entirely non-mechanical caught her attention. It took about three seconds for what she was seeing to register with her unsuspecting brain, and she froze in place with the abruptness of a gunshot.
Good Lord! What had she just walked into?
She heard a chuckle behind her and a gust of warm breath against her ear. “When he said he was in the middle of something, I didn’t think he meant anything quite so…literal.”
“Um, me either.”
Corinne swallowed and felt Luc’s hands settle on her shoulders. He had stepped into the back room right on her heels, and since he was so much taller, he had an unobstructed view of the sight that greeted them. She could only wonder what it looked like from his angle.
She did try to look away. It seemed like the polite thing to do. She wondered briefly if she should have stared at the hideous pink walls outside for a little longer so she could have been struck blind by the garish colors. That way she would have been unable to see the horrific sight now before her.
Sheesh,she thought, can this day get any weirder?
In the back room of the shop, the man she assumed was Walter Hibbish stood hip-deep in a pile of mostly naked bodies with a camera pointed straight at some of the most naked bits. Okay, the most unclothed bits. Nakedmight be a bit misleading, since they all seemed to be covered with something that looked like pastel-colored whipped cream.
“Sorry I can’t take a break to talk to you,” the shop owner said in between snaps of his shutter, “but this stuff is gonna be on the shelves next week and I need to get these shots done and printed up for the display. A little to the left, Hildie. Good. Is that okay?”
Corinne blinked and grabbed for her composure. “Well, I would have said to try it with that top leg a bit more bent, but yeah, it looks fine to me.”
Luc snorted behind her.
“Oh, I meant—hey, wait. I think you may be right. Deb, try bending your top leg just a little farther toward Maura. Great.” The camera snicked again. “Hey, good call, Ms….?”
“D’Alessandro.” Corinne stepped forward, figuring that if she pretended she wasn’t in a room with a pile of naked women, a man she wanted to jump on and spend a few hours licking, and a weird middle-aged man with a camera, then she should be able to conduct this interview just fine. “Corinne. From the Chronicle.Sorry, but I thought you were expecting me.”
“No. Should I be? We already run a regular spot in your paper. More tongue, Lil. Fabulous!” He glanced over his shoulder at her and spotted Luc standing in the background. “Who’s he?”
Luc beat her to the punch. “Luc Macanaw. I’m an associate of Ms. D’Alessandro’s. Thanks for agreeing to meet with us.”
Corinne had intended to introduce him as her photographer, but seeing the profession—or at least very serious hobby—of the man they were about to interview, she figured associatewould be safer. It was nice to work with someone who could think on his feet.
She was about to forge ahead with the questions, but something distracted her. Specifically, five pairs of feminine eyes distracted her when they turned at the sound of Luc’s deep voice and took on the bright gleam of interest. She fought back an urge to curl her fingers into claws or to slap a sign on Luc’s back reading, mine! And just in case they missed seeing that one, she’d put another, permanent one someplace lower. But now that she’d had time to think, she decided the second tattoo wouldn’t be on his ass, and it wouldn’t be made of chocolate, and—
Damn it, she needed to get a hold of herself. This jealousy thing was going to get real old real fast, especially if Luc continued to do absolutely nothing to warrant it.
Hibbish seemed to notice the looks, too, but he had a slightly different reaction. “That’s it!” he shouted, camera snapping frantically. “That’s exactly the look I need. Hold it. Hold it. Perfect! Wonderful!”
Corinne’s teeth clenched so hard she feared lock-jaw, but Luc didn’t seem to have any such trouble. In fact, he flashed the heap of women a playful grin and reached for a tall, black can from the assortment on a nearby table.
“Kissy Kreme?” he asked, his eyebrows rising.
“Yeah. Great find. Come on, Jennie, smile for me.” Hibbish paused to adjust a flash umbrella, then resumed shooting. “It’s bran
d new, but I know it’s gonna be big. It’s fun, colorful, all natural. Customers are gonna eat it up.”
“I think that’s the point,” Luc said, his voice low and clearly intended just for Corinne. That damned murmur of his was lethal. She watched, feigning disinterest while he flipped the can over and began reading from the blurb on the back. “‘Sweet, creamy and sensual—just like the perfect lover should be.’”
He looked up at her with an intent expression that she’d have to be dead not to be affected by, but she covered her melty-ness with a snort, since the last thing he needed was another advantage over her. At least, she hoped she’d done sufficient melt-coverage, but his eyes just sparkled at her as he continued to read.
“‘Kissy Kreme brings a new dimension to your love play in five unique flavors that blend wholesome ingredients with wicked intentions. Cover your lover’s tastiest bits with the sweet flavor of raspberry, mint, chocolate, orange, or strawberry cream and delight your senses to the fullest. Because kisses taste better when they’re creamy. Bon appétit!’ Hmm, sounds yummy,” he said, looking back up at her with speculation and intentions that went well beyond wicked. “Don’t you think, Corinne?”
“Come on, girls, act like you’re having fun, will ya? It’s great stuff,” Hibbish said to them over his shoulder. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”
Luc’s mouth twisted into a subtle curve, the one that seemed to eat away at the ability of Corinne’s knees to actually do the job of supporting her weight. “Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.”
The man’s mouth ought to be outlawed, Corinne decided as she watched him check labels until he found the one he wanted. Lifting it from the table, he extended his free hand to her and made her stomach do a wobbly cartwheel.
“What do you say? Care to try?”
When she found herself all but blushing like a virgin, Corinne drew the line. She hadn’t let a man intimidate her with sex appeal since Tony Melitti in the ninth grade. Squaring her shoulders, she cocked one eyebrow, put one hand on her hip, and let the other brush teasingly across Luc’s upturned palm. “Absolutely,” she purred in her best Jessica Rabbit. “But you go first. So I can watch.”
“Thanks. I think I will.” Predatory hunger radiated from his big, beautiful body as he caught her hand in his and sidled right up next to her until she could feel every inch of his body pressing up against her.
Sweet Mary Magdalene, the man felt like heaven. All heavy, roped muscle and exotic scent, he gave off heat like a blast furnace, but Corinne already knew he was a hell of a lot nicer to curl up to during a cold snap. She watched his crystal-green eyes go all lazy and seductive and fought back the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and scale him like a prison wall. Just the thought of wrapping her legs around his waist and feeling his arms reach around to hold her steady made her pant. She could almost feel those enormous hands of his kneading her muscles again, easing the burning ache his nearness caused. She remembered the width of his shoulders blocking out the light, the weight of him pinning her to the cushions of her sofa, the scrape of callused skin against hers…
The hiss of the spray can yanked her back to reality just before her fantasy life caused her to embarrass herself. If thinking about him drove her to the edge like this, she’d hate to imagine what might happen the next time she got her hands on him.
He already had his on her. Eyes gleaming, he held her gaze captive while his fingers pulled the neckline of her tank top and the strap of her bra to one side, exposing the golden slope of her shoulder. The can hissed again as he pointed the nozzle at her bare skin and painted a line of thick, pale blue whipped cream from the side of her neck to the edge of her shirt. Then his head lowered and she felt his breath in hot contrast with the refrigerator cool of the cream.
“Chocolate pudding aside,” he whispered as her breath froze solid in her chest, “you can never go wrong with the taste of fresh raspberries…”
His head dipped, and his lips parted, and her world spiraled out of control at the feel of his tongue sliding hot and moist over her cream-covered skin.
Her head fell backward as if her spine had melted, and that’s pretty much how it felt to Corinne—like she’d become nothing but a great, big, boneless pile of goo. Well, if goo could feel so desperately needy. She pressed her chest against his, the pressure offering a slight easing of the ache in her breasts. His tongue licked and stroked muscles and nerves and tendons as he ate the cream from her skin. His lips pressed and teeth scraped, and it felt like he touched each separate nerve ending and coaxed it to quivering alert. Her knees quivered like jelly and her stomach had filled with hyperactive butterflies, while her head swam a leisurely backstroke, content to let Luc feast on her flesh as long as he wanted. If she was lucky, it would be a long, long time.
The click of the camera shutter barely penetrated her consciousness, but the loss of his kisses did. He pulled away and straightened to his full height. She whimpered and reached up to pull him back toward her, dying for more of his magic touch.
“Oh, my God, you two are amazing!” Hibbish let his camera fall to his chest, dangling from the woven strap while he palmed his bare head in his hands and tapped out an obscure rhythm in what Corinne guessed was a gesture of mental overload. “I’ve never seen anything like it! Tell me what you charge. I’ll pay anything! Anything you want, just so long as you sign a photo release so I can use that shot on the Kissy Kreme display. Name your price.”
Corinne barely registered the shop owner’s babbling as English, her senses still reeling. It took a second to transition from the impulse to climb Luc’s body like a rope wall, to acting like a mature professional with a job to do and information to elicit. With her eyes still locked on Luc’s face, she saw his expression sharpen. He turned to the shop-owner- cum-photographer.
“Anything?” he repeated.
Hibbish nodded. “Absolutely. That picture I took of you two is gonna sell a whole truckload of Kissy Kreme. For God’s sake, you can have my firstborn child. Just give me ten minutes to call my wife and let her know.”
Luc squeezed Corinne’s hand, as if encouraging her to keep silent. As if she had yet recovered the power of speech. Ha. The man clearly didn’t understand the potency of his own kisses. “We appreciate this, Mr. Hibbish. Can you start by…?”
“Whoa, wait a second there.” The man held his hands out in front of him and backed up half a step. His friendly expression closed down like a Popsicle stand in October, and he shook his head. “If you’re here lookin’ for Walt, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
That managed to yank Corinne out of her lust-induced fog. She frowned. “What? I thought youwere Walter Hibbish. I looked it up. The Pink Pillow is owned by Walter M. Hibbish.”
“And Harvey Weitzel. They’re partners. We’re partners. I’m Harvey,” Weitzel explained. “But I haven’t seen Walt in nearly a week.”
“Have you reported him missing?” Damn, that news threw Corinne for a loop, but her instincts were kicking in now. Maybe this assignment had caused her to stumble on to real story. “Do you know where he was last seen?”
“Yeah, I reported it, since he hasn’t returned any of my calls, but I’ll tell you the same thing I told the police.” Weitzel turned away to begin breaking down his equipment from the shoot. The models reached for their robes, still watching Luc out of the corners of their eyes. “I don’t know nothing about where he might be. Walt and I never lived in each other’s pockets, and when one of us wanted to take a little break, we never felt the need to explain it. He could be anywhere. Chances are he’ll turn up in a week or two. You can try back then.”
“I won’t need to try back then. I’m working on a story, and I need to talk to him now.”
“Then I hope you got a nose like a bloodhound, ’cause I can’t think of any other way for you to find him.” Weitzel gave a regretful shake of his head and zipped his lens into a protective case. “Sorry I can’t tell you more. But if you wanna do an article on the store instead of jus
t on Walt, I’d be happy to have a sit-down. The publicity would be great.”
Corinne blew out a frustrated breath and shoved her notebook back into her bag. “Sorry, but I have to run that by my editor first.”
Weitzel looked disappointed for a minute, then shrugged it off and offered her a smile. “Oh, well. That’s how it goes, I guess.” He picked up a can of Kissy Kreme and handed it to Luc. “Here. Take a freebie. Just for coming. Tell your friends about it, too. We’ll be all stocked up by Wednesday.”
By Wednesday, Corinne sincerely hoped she could forget The Pink Pillow had ever existed, but she just nodded and left the thank-yous to Luc. He seemed to be good at them.
“Look, I’m sorry you went through all this trouble for nothing,” the shopkeeper said. “Unless you change your minds about the photos it’s like you wasted a trip. Why don’t I walk you out and tell my girl out front to give you a special discount. Anything you want, twenty percent off.”
“Thanks, Harvey, that’s very generous of you,” Luc said, taking Corinne by the elbow and guiding her forward. “We appreciate all your help.”
Weitzel shrugged as he set aside a soft-sided camera case and led the way toward the doorway they had entered through. “No problem. I wish you luck on your story. Sorry I couldn’t give you more information.”
“Yeah, me too,” Corinne muttered under her breath, stepping back into the shop with Luc right behind her. They exchanged pleasantries with Weitzel, but when the curtain fell closed behind them, she crossed her arms over her chest and immediately dropped them back to her sides. She gave a frustrated sigh. “Fabulous. Just what we needed. Now we’ve got a great big blank from what was supposed to be our likeliest source. What now?”
“Well, we could always pick out a few things to…console us until we decide what to do next.”
Not Your Ordinary Faerie Tale Page 12