by Linda Palmer
"Absolutely. And a few tricks up my sleeve." He handed me a steaming mug.
I pretended to look it over with suspicion, splashing hot coffee on my hand in the process. "Is this safe to drink?"
"I just washed the mug."
"That's not what I meant." I carefully closed up the cabinet and followed him to the love seat, where we both sat.
"Ah. You think my trick is Rohypnol in your coffee. I'll admit I could get my hands on some."
"I meant something worse."
He frowned. "What's worse than that?"
"A love potion, and that brings me to the main reason I'm here. Not that I didn't owe you an explanation for last night. I did, and I'm glad you've heard it. Also, I hope you believe it."
"Of course I do."
I suddenly felt worlds better...at least about that. "How well do you know Ember Sandoval?"
"Not that well. I mean, I just met Ms. Sandoval last week." His dark gaze narrowed. "Why?"
"So you two aren't dating?"
"Absolutely not."
His tone told me I might as well have asked him about his interest in Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Now I felt even better.
"What's this all about?"
"One more question first. Did she give you something to drink when she was over here today?"
"How did you know she was here?"
Uh-oh. Open mouth; insert foot. "I was, um, staking out your apartment when she drove up."
His jaw dropped. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You. Me. Ember." With a sigh and a minor skewing of details, I told him I'd witnessed her foiled attempt to purchase a love potion. "The point is that she'll get one somewhere else, if she hasn't already."
"So?"
"So it might work."
Hutch laughed heartily...until he realized I hadn't joined it. "You're joking, right?"
I shook my head.
"Oh come on. You have to be."
"Sorry. Some love potions are real."
"So if I got on the internet and ordered one, I could pour it in some woman's drink...let's say yours, for example...and you'd fall for me?"
I swallowed hard. "Only if it was made by someone with powers."
"Powers. Right." Hutch set his coffee on a side table and sat back, one arm stretched along the backrest. That put his fingers within reach of my damp hair. He began to play with it.
I tried to ignore the delicious thrill that resulted. "If you expect to survive in Illusion, you'll have to open your mind."
"Fine. It's open. What are you trying to say?" His hand brushed the nape of my neck.
My heart rate kicked up a notch. "Ember is a witch. Admittedly, not that good, but—" Momentarily distracted by memories of the home intrusion—or was it simply Hutch's tender touch?—I fumbled for coherency. "Actually, she may be better than I think."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did you say witch?"
I nodded.
"You mean black hats, bubbling cauldrons, and brooms?"
"Those are clichés, but yes. That's what I mean."
Hutch suddenly leaned close to me, his hand firmly behind my head. His warm breathed fanned my cheek. "And you know this how?"
"I've, um, heard about her, um—" How could any one man smell so damn good? "—tricks. From some of her customers."
"And you trust town gossip?"
"Yes. No." I shook my head to clear it and carefully set down my mug. "What was the question?"
"Do you really take stock in local gossip?"
"Of course not. I'm basing this on the comments of her customers." I eased away from him so I could think. "You never told me if she offered you something to drink."
"Indeed she did."
That cleared my head. I sat upright. "Oh no! How are you feeling?"
"Fine."
"I might be able get my hands on an antidote."
"Don't need it."
"Because you already have access to one?"
"No. Because she offered the drink, but I was already working on a Coke. Besides, it was way too early for scotch."
Relief made me sag into the couch. "I'm so glad."
"Why?"
"Because I wouldn't want any man to lose control of his heart."
"Any man, or just me?"
What was he really asking? Suddenly I needed to look deep into his eyes. I leaned forward to do it. He glanced away at the last second. I cleared my throat and swallowed hard. "No man should be tricked like that. It's unfair to the women who don't know magic."
Hutch appeared to get it. "Guess I should pour the bottle down the drain, huh?"
"She left it?"
"Yep." He got up and led the way to the kitchen, where he retrieved a bottle of scotch from the cabinet. "You can have the honor."
Was he humoring me? "You think I'm nuts, don't you?"
"Actually, I think you're the most intriguing woman I've ever met."
"Because I'm nuts."
"No, because you're sexy as hell, a brilliant businesswoman, and concerned about me. A killer trio of traits, all of which I just happen to admire."
"Oh." Gulp. I carefully took the bottle, opened it, and poured the contents down the sink. When I turned back, I found myself eyes to Adam's apple with him. For a second, we just stood there. Then we went for it, our lips smashing together in a kiss I felt right to the core. Open mouths. Thrusting tongues. Hands where they shouldn't be.
Did we stop? Hell no. He lifted me onto the counter and settled between my thighs. I went for the buttons of his shirt. It soon hit the floor. My top followed. His jeans came next, with mine right after. My snowy white bra garnished the growing pile of clothing at his feet.
I grabbed his face, desperate to look into his eyes before we went too far. He foiled that attempt by palming my breasts and, suckling them until I gasped for air. He slipped his hands into my bikinis in back, cupping my butt and pulling me so close that I felt how hard he was. Of course I had to see, too, which meant his boxer briefs had to go. My bikinis naturally followed.
Suddenly we were both butt naked, with me flat on the kitchen floor. Hutch pushed my thighs apart and began to work a little magic. Fearing I'd climax in two seconds, I made him stop. His chest heaved as he raised his head and tried to catch his breath.
I was in no better shape, but still managed to talk. "Do you have condoms?"
"You're not on the pill?"
"Nope." I pushed my tangled hair out of my face. "Which may be a good thing."
He glanced down at himself. "Or not."
Somehow I wiggled out from under him.
Hutch rolled over and sat, too, one long leg bent at the knee and his back against the lower cabinet doors. "There's a drugstore three short minutes away—" He glanced hopefully at his clothes.
"We barely know each other."
His sigh said it all.
"I'm so sorry I let things go this far."
"The fault is half mine."
"I was just trying to save you from Ember." I glanced below his waist. "Do you want a hand job?"
His laugh was dry. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but only if I can return the favor."
Remembering his amazing tongue, I knew where that would land us. "Better pass."
"You're sure?"
I made myself nod. In seconds I'd separated my clothes from his. I put on my undies and then the rest, with my boots last. Everything felt clammy damp and pretty damn disgusting. Naturally I tripped on a throw rug before I got out of there.
Five minutes later, I slid behind the steering wheel of my car and drove home with radio blasting "Crimson Witch" by Cage. My thoughts stayed with Hutch, big surprise. I'd been hot for guys before, but never as hot as I was for him. Had he slipped me a love potion? The thought made me laugh. The man had a magic tongue for sure and magic hands, but that was it.
Could I love him? Oh yeah. Did I? It was way too early to know.
At least one good thing had come out of tonight's fiasco. The scotch had been pou
red down the drain. If it hadn't been tainted, he'd wasted a good bottle. If it had been, I'd pretty much saved him from bad love. I felt very good about that and not just because I wanted him to be available.
Would we meet again? Date? Have sex?
If I had my way.
As for looking into his eyes to read his soul... Why risk it when I loved everything about him so far?
* * * *
It was Tuesday noon before I realized I still didn't have Hutch's number. Believing that was the perfect excuse to stop by the drugstore, I spent my lunch hour watching him fill prescriptions from afar. Actually, not that far afar. I stood in the cosmetic aisle, about five yards away, pretending to browse. When I finally caught his eye, he ducked out of the pharmacy and came to me.
"Hello, beautiful."
"Hello." I bobbled and dropped the mascara I was holding and bent to get it. I pointedly stared at his fly as I straightened up. "How's the...?"
He laughed out loud. "A solid grip works wonders. You?"
"Let's just say I had to look all over the house to find fresh batteries."
Our laughter drew some looks. I didn't care. "What are you doing tonight?" I had hot pink nail polish in my hand now even though I had no intentions of buying anything that color.
Hutch grinned. "Nothing yet. Got any good ideas?"
"I was thinking dinner anywhere else but the Korner Klatch. They charged me fifteen dollars for a freaking ham sandwich."
"I was trying to impress you with my choices."
"Aww." Although fairly certain I was acting the way I felt—very schoolgirl crush-ish—I still didn't hide my pleasure. "I could cook for you."
"You cook?"
"I know some kitchen magic, yeah." I set the nail polish back on the shelf, knocking over several other colors in the process.
"I'm in."
"Good. My place at eight?"
"I'll be there."
"Use the back door, okay?" I reset the last bottle of polish. "You can park your car beside mine. You'll see the break between the buildings. It's narrow, but both vehicles should fit."
He nodded, his gaze on the growing line. "Guess I'd better get to work."
"Later." I stepped closer to kiss his cheek and snagged my foot on the sunglasses carousel. He caught me. We shared a quick hug instead.
Happily, I headed for the door, but didn't make it there before experiencing the weight of someone's heavy stare. I stopped and slowly turned, looking for the culprit. I saw her immediately.
Ember.
And she was pissed.
Clearly she'd seen my interaction with Hutch. Just as clearly she didn't like it. For a heartbeat we stared at each other. I deliberately turned away without speaking and left her there. Her chill followed me all the way to Something's Brewing.
The rest of the day flew by. One second I was rushed. The next, I was the only person in the shop. I used the lulls to plan dinner and decided on steaks, baked potatoes, and a salad. All men liked that tasty trio, didn't they? And everything would be easy to prepare.
My ingredients required a trip to the market, but I didn't mind because there was a bakery next door that sold amazing bread and pastries. At home, I parked in back of the house, as usual, and took everything inside. Soon steaks were marinating in the fridge and potatoes were in the oven. Having done what I could for the moment, I slipped upstairs and took a quick shower, being careful not to get my hair wet since I didn't have enough time to mess with it tonight.
I dressed as I'd meant to the night of my mystery sleep—lacy undies, designer jeans, sparkly but casual top. Since the steam in the shower had curled my hair, I decided to wear it loose. I passed on shoes and went with flipflops when I finally headed downstairs, one of the perks of dining in.
Over the next hour, I worked a little manual magic in the kitchen, which is where we'd have to eat. The door stood open as I cleaned, so the crisp autumn air could come in through the screen and freshen up the place. In no time, the table looked quite nice with a pretty white cloth, candles, and my colorful Fiestaware on it. I added my best drinking glasses and the silverware Mom had given me when I moved out two years ago.
My parents were precious to me, their wild child. Not that I'd ever acted out. I hadn't and wouldn't. But I had gifts that set me apart from my four sisters—two older, two younger. Gifts that scared traditional them a little. Luckily, Tamsyn, Dad's aunt, had been there for them as she'd been there for me. And when I healed a hurt kitten by saying words learned from her, they didn't freak. They did try to steer me towards conventional medicine. What parents wouldn't? But in the end, they'd supported my decision to take a holistic approach.
At the moment, they were on an Alaskan cruise to celebrate the last little bird, my sister Macy, leaving the nest they'd so carefully made for us. I tried to imagine how Dad would feel in our old house with no daughters underfoot. Would he walk around in his underwear? That would be a luxury, for sure, and the thought made me laugh.
"What's so funny?"
With a gasp, I turned and saw Hutch standing on the back porch, all smiles, with flowers and a bottle of wine in his hand. Tripping over my own feet, I opened the screen door so he could come in. We greeted each other with a hug and a kiss, just like old friends. But we weren't old friends. We were barely new friends. And though I wanted to stop and analyze my intense feelings for him, I didn't try. Hutch had a way of distracting me by just being there.
Maybe it was his looks—handsome face, jeans, plaid shirt, casual shoes. Or maybe it was his smell, sort of woodsy and utterly sublime. It could even be his voice, deliciously deep. Whatever, he kept me engaged and seemingly without trying.
Did I keep him engaged?
One look at his expression told me that would be a yes.
Was it smart to think of sex? Probably not. At least until I'd seen his soul. Yeah. It was time.
I framed his face with my hands to hold it just there. But when I tried to look directly into his eyes, he stole another kiss and then a third, fourth, fifth...but who was counting? Somehow my clothes came off in the process. Somehow his did, too. We wound up in the laundry room just off the kitchen with me kneeling on a pile clothing I'd left there to be washed, and him behind and way inside me with a condom definitely in play.
It was a heady ride bursting with sensation—warm hands, mingled colognes, sexy words, and sweet, sweet kisses. I swear I saw fireworks when I came. I'm pretty sure he did, too. We collapsed on the quilt and rolled onto our backs, both of us gasping. A quickly exchanged glance had us laughing like idiots.
"I'm glad we got that out of the way." Hutch managed to stand and got rid of the condom.
"Yeah. Really cleared the air, huh?" I accepted the hand he offered me, but avoided brushing against his body when I went past him to get my clothes. After that kind of sex, I really needed food.
We cleaned up and dressed. I went out to start the grill. When I returned to the kitchen, Hutch wasn't there. I assumed he was in the bathroom and went to work preparing the salad, a task I always saved to the last minute to keep it fresh. A good ten minutes passed before I realized he hadn't returned. I abandoned the lettuce and went looking for him.
"Hutch?"
"In here."
I followed his voice into the shop, a surprise. I thought I'd locked up.
He stood at the curio case of Javan miniatures with Cedric dragon in his hand. "I believe I owe you for this one."
"But I was a no show."
"Not on purpose." He dug into his pocket for his wallet and took a crisp hundred dollar bill from it. "Keep the change."
I laughed since that would be a penny. Yeah, Javan didn't come cheap. Hutch put the dragon in his shirt pocket.
"Oh no you don't." I took it out. "Anything this expensive comes in a box."
He followed me to the checkout counter, where I dug out one of the carved wooden boxes every Javan miniature arrived in. Of course I dropped it twice before I snapped it open and set it on the counter
. I carefully wrapped the dragon in tissue without dropping it—a miracle—and put it in the box. Everything went into one of my imprinted bags. I was relieved to hand it over intact. "Thanks for your business. Please come back soon."
That made him grin.
"How'd you get into the shop?" I asked as we returned to the kitchen.
"This door."
The one we'd just walked through. "So it wasn't locked."
"No."
Securing the house at night wasn't that hard. I had to lock the front door, which served as the public entrance to the shop. I also had to lock the door that separated the shop from the rooms I occupied, as well as the back door Hutch had just entered. I did it with spells, which I'd found to be more foolproof than a lock that could be picked or charmed. After months in residence, I'd thought the nightly ritual was a habit. But I'd been so distracted lately, I could easily have forgotten one.
Naturally I doubled back to check the front door. It was fine. I returned to the kitchen.
"The fire should be hot." I handed Hutch the platter with the steaks on it. "Time to earn your dinner."
He set it aside and reached for the wine. "How about a toast first?"
"Sure." I got the glasses. He poured.
"To us."
"To us." I started to drink, but stopped. "Is this spiked?"
"Spiked?"
"Did you order a love potion off the internet to test it? Because if you did, you wasted your money."
"Because it wouldn't work?"
"Because you don't need it." I sipped from the glass and set it down, missing the table by a hair. Hutch caught it before it hit the floor, a miracle save. Flustered, I went for the platter of steaks.
"Allow me." He set aside my fragile wine glass and his before picking up the platter and offering it to me.
I shook my head. "You're grilling. We'll call it paying for your dinner."
He arched an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at the laundry room. "Thought I already had."
"That was just our appetizer."
"Well, I know what I want for dessert." Once again he swooped in for a kiss.
Somehow the platter made it back to the table. Hutch's body crowded me against the fridge. We kissed like two people crazy in love. His hands felt so good; his body, lean and strong. I could worry about reasons and consequences later. Now I just wanted more.