His hand never rose above my knee. He hadn’t done anything that would have evoked an “R” rating if it had been in the movies. But I still felt as though he’d flicked the switch for the most intimate parts of me to wake up and scream for attention.
He pushed off and let his fingers trail to my ankle. With gentle hands he loosened the strap of my shoe and let it drop to the floor.
I couldn’t help it. I moaned in appreciation of the thumbs he pushed deep into the center of my aching foot. His leaned over and kissed the top of my big toe and then lifted my other foot for the same attention.
My nerves were playing a crazed game of ping pong. I thought I’d gotten used to my ears ringing. I pulled myself upright on the sofa and stared at him. My heart pounded. I could say no to sex, but not to loving him. Even when I knew the bad things he was involved in. Even when I knew he was using me.
“Good night, El—”
“Wait.”
He turned and waited. He’s lucky. If he would have so much as raised an eyebrow, my rejuvenated foot would have assisted him to the door. “Uh. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, his hair coming loose from the gel that had kept it slicked back. I liked the messy look better, I realized. It dipped onto his forehead and nearly covered his eyes. He was dangerously sexy looking out from under the dark tips of the fringe. “I should be the one apologizing, Ella. I didn’t mean to push myself on you.”
“I—” I stood, not sure how to reassure him I didn’t think worse of him. I mean, it’s not like we hadn’t already gone down that road.
The little devil on my shoulder started showing my mind souvenir photos of the fireworks I’d seen on the last trip. I took a deep breath. To thine own self be true, right? There was always tomorrow.
I stood and slid my hands around his neck. The kiss was chaste. “I don’t need a lover,” I told him with my head against his shoulder. “I need a friend.”
His arms tightened. “I told you nothing would happen-”
“A friend, Quentin.” I pushed him an arm’s length away. “Not a bodyguard.”
He licked his lips. I felt his eyes travel up and down my body before meeting mine again. The dark passion was gone. But I thought I caught a glimpse of something warm, inviting.
“I need some sleep. You want to help me out of this dress?”
“Not tonight,” he sighed. “I think I’ve got a headache.”
I laughed and snatched my shoes up. “Good night.”
“Sweet dreams, Ella. I hope you dream of what we could have had tonight.”
“Undoubtedly, I will.”
The door clicked behind him. I threw my shoes as hard as I could at the closet door. Doing the right thing totally sucked.
My dreams were tortured facsimiles of the grand ball. I imagined every bad thing that could have happened and then exaggerated it tenfold. The fate of the last gem haunted me. What if Mr. B. had found it? Would he come around to question me? What if Quentin had it and was waiting for me to admit losing it? What if—
I stopped tossing and turning at the sound of someone pounding on the door. I had no clock beside my bed. All I knew is that dawn hadn’t broken.
I shrugged the heavy robe over my shoulders and pushed a hand through my hair. Whoever dared knock at this hour deserved to see me looking like a witch.
“Quentin!” I exclaimed when I pulled open the door. His lip was bloody and his eyelid swelling. “What happened?”
He nearly fell into my arms as I tugged him into the room. I latched every lock and slid the bench over to block the entrance.
“Won’t help,” his words were slurred. “They’ll walk through the wall.”
It was back to magic then. Who had done this to Quentin? Why?
I pulled the sweatshirt over his head. Grass stains tainted the elbows of the white shirt and the knees of his jeans. One leg was torn. I was worried what I might find beneath the ragged denim.
“Quentin, talk to me. What happened?”
“Chasing a fairy. Big man.
“Say what?” I unzipped his pants. He put his hand over mine and held it there.
“I wish you’d have tried that earlier this evening.”
“Me, too,” I admitted. But now there wasn’t even a drop of romantic foreplay in the motions we took to free him of his clothes. Not all of them, mind you. Just the ones that hid the bruised ribs and bloody shin.
I had to guess the damage to his leg had been the result of a fall, not a knife wound. The jeans were neatly cut, though. I pushed against the edge of the angry red flesh. A drip of blood seeped out and traced through the dark hairs.
“Okay,” I breathed out. “That’s enough for me.”
“What?” I could tell Quentin’s eyes weren’t focusing well at all. His head bobbed as he stared at his leg. “Where is it?”
“You lost a fight with something here.” I poked the leg a good two inches above the damage.
“Oh, yeah.” His voice went high for a moment. Then he sighed and took the pillow I offered him and stretched out on the floor between my bed and the bathroom. “That does hurt.” He was fading.
“I’ll be right back.” Shit. What now? What if he should have stitches? What if it was an animal bite? I turned around and looked at it again. It could be. Could he be exposed to rabies?
I knocked over a stack of towels. Muttering curses under my breath, I threw one in the sink and twisted on the cold water.
The first splash of the icy water against my cheeks just about sent me screeching back to bed. Deep breath. I did it again. I had to wake up in order to deal with this properly. Last thing I needed to do was pass out. Seeing oozing wounds wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, and didn’t make my stomach feel real stable. Anything that could be considered a crisis was on my list of most avoidable things.
“Quentin?” He’d either passed out or fallen asleep. “Bleeping, blaring bunghole.” I threw the rag at his leg and sat on the edge of my bed. I held my head in my hands to keep it from spinning around like in the exorcist movie. I just knew that’s what had to be next. Why me?
Sleep was out of the question. Now what? Quentin wasn’t complaining so I let him be and paced the floor. The fairy? Probably Winzey. And here I’d been hoping she’d either flown home or was hiding up in my closet. Why was Quentin chasing her? Who had gotten in his way and done this to him?
The tenderized man of my dreams moaned and rolled onto his side. “C’mon, Quentin. You’re killing me here.” I leaned over and pressed the damp rag to his shin.
He sat up with a garbled scream. I couldn’t help the laugh that rose in my throat.
It faded quickly enough. Quentin was spooked. Those expressive green eyes darted around the room. Their luminescence spoke volumes.
I knelt beside him and smoothed the hair off his forehead. He winced. He’d taken a good hit to the head. Who ever this big man was, he must have been a monster. Quentin was no slouch. He might not have been a linebacker for the NFL, but I could almost see him as bouncer material. In this case, he was the one who was bounced. Dribbled, in fact.
And just where had these maternal feelings come from? I’d never really escaped Disneyland, had I? I was really starting to hate roller coasters.
I woke up with a heavy feeling of dread in my stomach. The lights were still blazing. I must not have turned off the water all the way. How’d I sleep through the annoying sound of drip, drip, drip?
I reached up to push the hair out of my eyes. It was stuck. I pulled, and realized someone was sleeping on it. “Good Lord, Quentin, get off me!”
He rolled over and grinned.
I pushed out of bed and high tailed it to the bathroom. “No following me,” I ordered Mr. Cheshire Cat.
The panic of last night hadn’t really faded. I scrubbed my teeth while studying my hairline in the mirror. I just knew gray hair would be taking over the dark strands prematurely. If I lived that long.
My hand shook as I slid the mirrored cabinet asid
e. My silent prayer was answered when I saw the bottle of pain relievers perched on the second shelf. “Thank you, God.”
I popped the top and tossed the cotton aside.
“Bring me about four of those.” Quentin’s voice sounded like a scratched vinyl record.
I poured out two more. “I’m not your maid.” Then I thought about it. “And I’m not a nurse.” But I gave in and delivered the meds anyway.
“Wanna play doctor?”
If he wasn’t in my bed I would have tossed the glass of cold water at him. The problem was I did want to nurse him, take care of him. That’s what a fool like me gets for falling in love.
I thought about what he’d told me the night before. Getting all sappy was not going to help this situation. “Did you say you saw a fairy?”
He tossed back the water like it was a shot of whiskey, and grimaced as if it tasted that way. “Damn head feels like it’s been used as a hockey puck.”
I hated to tell him it looked the same way. “Well?”
“Yeah. It was peeking in the windows. I went out through the French doors to follow it. I called to it, her, whatever it was, but it flew off.”
“How big was it? Are fairies common?”
“I’d never seen one before. Bergestein mentioned them at one point in a conversation I’d overheard. I think he said their power was greater than the gemstones, but then he said they never leave their home.”
“But one did, right?”
“Sure looked that way to me.”
I walked to the balcony and opened the door. The damp breeze ruffled the sheer curtains that obscured the view from his side of the room. I’d never be able to spot a figure the size of my forefinger.
“So you followed this fairy outside and then what?” I didn’t look back at him. I slid the door closed and twisted the lock. Habit.
“Someone bulldozed me and chased the little thing. I think it went up into the tree. Anyway, Brutus was too big to climb it, so he came after me to vent his frustration, I guess.”
His story sounded preposterous. “Why would he do something like that?”
I turned back from the window and leaned against the door. Quentin sat up in bed, the blankets pulled away and exposing his chest. Why did he have to look so damn good? Even in the morning with darkening shadows around his middle and the raccoon eyes? He swept his hair off his face, exposing a bright red knot.
“Looks like your attacker had a lot of frustration,” I commented. Nothing like a few hours to make everything look worse. At least his eyes were clear.
Quentin shrugged and stared at the lump his toes made under the bedspread. There was something else, I felt it raise the hairs on the back of my neck. I wanted to trust him. I needed to trust someone.
And where the heck was Sam? He’d been the one to pull me into this mess. I shivered and looked at the bathroom door. I was almost afraid to know the answer to that question.
“I think I’m going to see about breakfast. I’ll have something sent up here for you.”
“You’re not going anywhere without me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Something you’re not telling me? Do you think I need a babysitter?”
“A bodyguard, maybe.”
That was a tickle. The man was beaten and bruised, lying in my bed and I needed someone to protect me? “You’re…kidding…me,” I gasped between peals of laughter.
He crossed his arms. My gaze fell to his chest and I sucked in air. “Yeah, okay. You can be my bodyguard.” I closed the door to the bathroom. Whatever he wanted to hear.
I opened it up and peaked out at his grinning face. “After breakfast.”
I really had no idea where I was going. Quentin had dozed off while I was showering. Which was good, since I’d forgotten to take clean clothes in the bathroom with me. I wasn’t favorable to being his entertainment as I dressed.
I stuck to the corridors I’d traveled before. Mainly to make sure I could find my little suite again. Nothing like having food and nowhere to go. I doubted I would want to sit at a formal table with strangers for a long, long time.
“Ah, good morning, Ella.” Mr. B’s booming voice glued me in place.
I flashed my teeth in a portrait-style smile. “Good morning to you, sir. Could you tell me where I might find some food for breakfast? Quentin and I would like to share a meal in my room.”
This was his idea, right? I figured he’d be thrilled with that news.
Wrong move. His face instantly flamed red and his eye widened so big I thought I might have to dive and catch them as they popped out. His voice was eerily calm. “Oh. I see. I had hoped to meet with Quentin this morning and discuss business. I was just on my way to his room. You have saved me some trouble.”
I forced myself to stand still as his gaze stripped me of my clothes. Perverted geezer. “I can let him know, he’ll look for you later then?” I didn’t wait for a nod. “About breakfast?”
He pointed to the hallway and stomped off in the opposite direction. I gave myself a mental pat on the back and found my way to what I initially thought was a school-type cafeteria.
My first impression of the place wasn’t exactly right on. It was more like a restaurant, a fancy one set up buffet style. I found a woman in an apron. “Can I make up a couple of plates and take them up to my room?”
She looked at me like I’d threatened her life. The loosely pinned bun on top of her head bobbled with her vigorous nod. Yeah. Okay. This was weird.
I almost expected to find a cash register at the end of the line. No one screamed at me or yelled “thief” when I carried the tray laden with enough breakfast food to feed five people.
Dilemma. How was I going to open the door? I had locked it behind me, sort of as a precaution for Quentin. But I was not coordinated enough to pull off a one-handed tray hold while I turned the knob. I guess that killed the idea of knocking as well.
I did the next best thing. I kicked the door, just lightly, with the toe of my sneaker. I expected it to sound like a midget knocking. The door squeaked open instead.
I stared at it for a moment. I really didn’t want to believe this. What was I gone, twenty minutes? I used my foot to nudge the door the entire way open. If someone was there, they were going to get a new version of pie in the face. Pancake style.
And it’d be a shame because I really was looking forward to the extra helping of whipped cream.
Lucky for my stomach, the room was empty. Maybe the door hadn’t latched when I pulled it closed behind me. I couldn’t recall the telltale snap.
“Quentin, breakfast. Can you get up?”
No answer.
I pushed the lamp over with the edge of the tray. I gave the precariously balanced plates the palm out “stay” signal and walked around the corner.
The bed was rumpled, but empty.
“Quentin?” I called. He must be in the bathroom.
But the door was open. Crap. I strode over to the door and looked around. My towel was still on the floor near the tub. The toilet seat was still down. No Quentin.
I rushed back out to the bedroom and checked both sides of the bed. He hadn’t fallen off. Balcony! I tried the door. Locked. Behind the sheers was nothing but empty gray skies. Dead end.
I turned around, one hand on my hip and a frown on my face. I could believe he left of his own accord, but something just wasn’t right.
“Looking for someone?”
I jerked my head up. Mr. B stood in the doorway.
I tried to act nonchalant. I knew he didn’t buy it, but it made me feel better. “I guess Quentin didn’t want breakfast.”
His smile told me he wasn’t surprised.
This man was not going to get under my skin. No way, no how. He held out a cup to me. “I was just returning your bracelet from last night. I don’t know if all the pieces were found.”
Now I felt sheepish. He wasn’t here to intimidate me. Still, he probably got pleasure from watching me squirm in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry about using magic. I didn’t know.”
He sat the cup down when I didn’t cross the room to take it from him. Then he waved his hand to clear the air. “It’s not your fault. It’s one of the things I wanted to talk to Quentin about. You see, not everyone here knows about the magic. Even fewer of them can perform it.”
I nodded. That much was clear. The why part still bothered me, but well, it wasn’t my mystery to solve.
“I wanted to thank you for playing along with the explanation.”
“Believe me, Mr. Bergestein. The last thing I want is to be in the limelight.”
His eyes twinkled. I supposed he thought he was breaking down the barriers. Not a chance. They were double insulated walls of something space-aged and indestructible. Except for the little rust spot Quentin had found.
“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess. I think I’ll have my breakfast now, before it gets cold.”
“Of course, of course. Enjoy.”
He left the room. I heard it click closed. My appetite was gone. So much for my bravado. That man just made me quiver like a beaten dog with my tail between my legs.
I passed the overloaded plates and plopped down on the edge of the bed.
“Damn you, Quentin. Where the fu—” He would have been proud of me for almost saying that without hesitation. But I got distracted by the twinkle on my pillow. It flashed like a diamond catching the light.
“What the heck?” I dropped my hands and squinted at it. My guess was that Quentin had left something.
But what? A tooth that had gotten knocked out? My stomach turned over as my gruesome mind pictured his eyeball laying there on my pristine white pillow. But after all I’ve been through, would it surprise me? Heck, no!
I got to the foot of the bed when I realized what it was. A gem. Perhaps even the one I dropped in the ballroom. I released my pent-up breath and stepped around the side of the bed to lift the small round bead from the pillow.
I shrieked and jogged in place when an invisible hand covered mine. I jerked back as quickly as I could. The gem was tightly held in my fist and was burning the tarnation out of me. “Hot damn!” I cried. The combination of the heart-stopping surprise and the pain in my palm was enough to make me beg to go home. I didn’t care. I was even tempted to move in with Mom and Dad. I could plead insanity. Once I told this story to a doctor, he’d surely offer up this week’s variety of nerve-calming drugs and ship me off to be babied by my parents.
Believe the Magic Page 18