She could feel the reverberation of his chuckle under her hand. “They aren’t real, angel. Any more than those naughty wings are.”
She swallowed and smiled at him, feeling her courage resurface. “I hope not. You’re supposed to be the good guy.”
He gestured to himself. “Then I’m in the wrong color.”
She shook her head. “Why did you come as a devil?”
Rob looked into her eyes as he stroked his hands down her arms. Melanie could feel how narrowly his gesture had missed her breasts and ached with a need for his touch. “I told you I was being chased by demons. I decided to take charge.”
Melanie felt the edges of her lips quirk up. Now this was a devil-man. Could he be hers? She moved one sandaled foot against his instep, desperate to enter his personal space.
“You had me quite confused there earlier. How did you keep escaping after you whispered to me?”
Rob shook his head mysteriously and tugged her gently away from the loudspeakers. They walked over toward The Artist’s Journey.
“Want to go through?”
“Sure,” she said, disappointed that they weren’t heading for the nearest stairwell. All of a sudden he was Mr. Conventional. Her thoughts certainly weren’t. Their signals were mixed. They walked through the entryway and stood in front of monitors that showed the legends of funk discussing the making of their music.
“Rob? How did you get away from me? I was looking all over after I heard you whispering.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see you until just now.” The edges of his eyes crinkled.
“Liar!” she punched him in the arm. “You were really tormenting me. I knew it was your voice but I couldn’t see you anywhere.”
“I like getting a rise out of you.” He laughed. “I love your costume, by the way.” He gestured toward her chest.
Melanie took a step back. “I looked too holy before, so I sexed it up a bit.” She stood toe to toe with him and said deliberately, “I just love this new Wonderbra.”
She saw his chest rise as he took a deep breath. Rob ran his hands lightly down her arms, then latched onto her elbows. Melanie moved one of her feet in between his and raised her head to his.
“Welcome to The Artist’s Journey,” an African American tour guide said, stepping around a corner.
Rob let go of her. Rats! Just as he was starting to pay attention. Melanie couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Rob looked inhumanly perfect in his outfit. His pecs felt like rocks under his soft shirt and his spicy cologne burned through her olfactory system like a drug. She had to get close to him. Her hormones were screaming “Now!” as they walked onto a series of walkways surrounding a giant shoe with a long pant leg hanging from the ceiling. A video started, offering a mini-movie about funk music. Melanie wanted nothing more than to get her devil-man back into the dark and have her way with him.
“Ma’am,” the tour guide said. “You’re going to have to do something about your costume. You won’t fit into our seats.”
Melanie blinked as Rob nodded. “The wings need to go, right?”
The guide nodded. Rob turned her around and undid the Velcro straps holding the wings onto her back. The wings collapsed neatly. Melanie held out her hand but he shook his head and held onto them.
“Thanks,” Melanie whispered, feeling quite ungrateful. She should have used the wings as an excuse to get them out of there.
He shook his head at her with a grin. “Any devil worth his salt would be thrilled to get these off you.”
Melanie made an “O” with her mouth and drew back from him in mock horror, hoping teasing along those lines bore fruit later.
After a few minutes the video ended and they were ushered into a theater. Rob grabbed her hand and ran his thumb back and forth down her wrist as they walked down the aisle. Her knees felt weak. They shuffled into the front row and a bar came down and locked them into their seats. Melanie took a deep breath.
She had been here before with Ethan. The seats were actually on a motion system and in a moment, they would feel like they were flying into an otherworldly performance by funk legend James Brown.
The movie started and the platform they sat upon started to move close to the screen. Melanie gripped the bar in front of her, knowing she would feel like she was being pitched over the top as they really started rocking and rolling.
Rob glanced over at her. “Scared?”
“No,” she whispered. “Just getting prepared.”
They were sucked into a dizzying tunnel of light and sound, faced with the illusion of hovering around a street as the musicians played their funky music. Melanie felt out of control as the platform whipped around, yet she knew she was just in a room, that underneath was safe ground, she was in Seattle, at home and Rob sat next to her. In reality, she couldn’t be any safer, no matter the psychological tricks being played on her.
Surrounded by safety, she could be as wild as she dared. As the movie ended and the platform started to back up, she reached her arm around Rob’s neck and tilted up to him. She angled her head so as not to bump against the horns glued to his forehead and put her lips to his.
Fireworks exploded as his soft yet powerful lips met hers. She felt her lipstick glide against his lips. But it didn’t matter, they were at a costume ball and why wouldn’t a devil have cherry red lips? Powerful sensations spun her senses in a way the contrived mechanical ride could not. Her head whirled from the simple contact, while she caressed his cheek with her other hand. His heated mouth opened beneath hers and she knew Rob wanted her. The realization melted her bones, made her ready for any suggestion he might make for the progress of the night.
“Sir?”
Rob’s mouth tightened beneath hers and he turned away. He didn’t wipe his mouth as he nodded at the tour operator. The bar was released and he led her out of the seats. She stumbled a little, clinging tightly to his arm to maintain the feeling of closeness as they left the theatre.
“Whoa,” Rob said when they reached the lighted corridor. He pulled his arm from hers and used his hands to tug the fabric of her robe closer together. “You’re in a bit of disarray.”
Melanie straightened her robe, feeling an embarrassed grin cross her face. What was he thinking about her now?
“I wish we weren’t here.” Rob grinned, helping her close the gape in her robe. “I hate to pull the edges of this little outfit together when I’d rather be doing exactly the opposite.”
“I wish we weren’t here either,” Melanie agreed with relief. The spell hadn’t been broken. They followed the crowd back out.
“Should we refasten your wings or just get out of here?” Rob asked.
Melanie glanced up at him. Could she dare? Oh yes, she most certainly could. “I’m not dressed for coffee.”
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
“Good,” Melanie said, mentally pumping her fist, “me either.”
“Devil one, angel zero,” Rob said, quirking up the corner of his mouth.
Melanie took his arm. “We’ll see about that in the morning,” she teased, feeling bold. “I may convert you after all.”
Rob leaned toward her. “I welcome the challenge.”
Melanie shivered involuntarily, as a climax of the mind shook her with his words. They followed Henry VIII and one of his queens back up the passageway and into the Sky Church.
“Why don’t we use that door?” Rob gestured to the left.
Melanie nodded and they turned.
“Hey, Melanie!”
She glanced to the right when she heard her name. Tommy Joe stood not five feet from them, looking like a lanky nerd kid in his childlike devil costume. Her heart sank as she realized she had forgotten all about him. What was she going to do now?
“Not him again,” Rob groaned. “You came here with him?”
“We’re supposed to be mingling with the muckety-mucks from Professional Massage,” Melanie said, her voice hoarse with frustration.
To
mmy Joe stepped up to them and took her arm. Rob dropped her hand on the other side.
“What were you doing, Melanie? What happened to your wings?” He seemed oblivious to the kiss marks on Rob’s face and the fact that they had been holding hands.
“I—” she glanced at Rob. His lips were pressed tightly together. “We went through the ride. I couldn’t keep them on.”
“Let’s get them back on,” Tommy Joe said impatiently. He reached out his hand and Rob handed them to him without saying anything. Melanie could feel the steam rising though. She felt the same way, but didn’t know how to extricate herself from the awkward situation. And who can ever think straight when all the blood has left their brain and pooled into a more sensual location?
“Melanie, what were you thinking, running away like that?” Tommy Joe admonished. “The CEO is here and maybe even our majority owner. We have work to do. You need to clean up and get focused.”
She sighed. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it.” She turned. “Rob?” But he had slipped away.
Melanie whipped around, frustrated almost to the point of screaming aloud, but didn’t see him anywhere in the crowd. He had disappeared again and this time she didn’t blame him.
* * * * *
“What are those? What are those?” Ethan chanted, jumping up and down on Melanie’s bed the next morning.
“Stop that!” his mother admonished. Ethan recognized Brisa’s “I’m serious” voice and flopped to a sitting position.
“But what are they?” he asked, pointing to the deck of cards in Melanie’s hands. “They look funny.”
“They’re tarot cards, kiddo. Your mom says it’s time I told her about her future.”
“You can do that with cards?”
Melanie ruffled his hair. “Not really. It’s just a grownup game.”
“What’s my future?” Ethan said, leaning over her hands.
“Grownup game,” Brisa repeated. “Go sit at the dressing table and do your math.”
“But school doesn’t start for two weeks!” he whined.
“All the more reason for you to get caught up, young man. Do you want to flunk the fifth grade?”
Ethan stuck his tongue out at his mother and ran from her, giggling, as she reached out to swat his behind.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed we haven’t been alone since you told me about your past,” Melanie said softly.
Brisa rolled her eyes at her son’s loud sighs as he sat down on the cherry wood stool in front of the dressing table and opened a math workbook. “I wanted to spend some time with Ethan before he went back to school.”
Ethan made pretend burping noises then looked over his shoulder to see if anyone paid attention. “You’re sure I’m going to buy that excuse?” Melanie asked with a grin, trying to hide her frustration.
“He’s a little monster, but I love him anyway.”
“One of these days you are going to talk to me about this, Brisa.” Her cousin avoided her eyes.
“Sure, cuz,” Brisa said diffidently. She picked up the tarot cards and shuffled them.
“I know you think I’m a pest, but Ethan’s going to have questions someday. Who is his father, for instance?” Melanie leaned forward and touched Brisa’s tanned leg.
Brisa moved back. “I’d prefer to forget that man even existed.”
“I’m worried,” Melanie said, her voice crescendoing. She softened it to a whisper. “I met some not-so-nice people in Vegas. They could find you.”
Brisa pursed her lips. “They never knew my real name.”
“But—”
“Do you want your fortune told or not?” Brisa fixed Melanie with a stare.
Melanie nodded her head. “Sure.”
“Okay,” Brisa smiled, flipping over so that she lay on her stomach. “Here we are. Your Self card is the Six of Pentacles. Self-Undoing—Seven of Pentacles. Higher Power—The Hanged Man. Advice—Five of Cups. Close Contact—Two of Pentacles. Allies—Page of Swords.”
“Swords?” Ethan piped up.
“Do your homework,” Brisa commanded. “And last but not least we have Potential, which is the Six of Swords.”
“What does that all mean?” The last two cards sounded violent.
Brisa looked up, her forehead wrinkled. “You’re asking me?” She tossed Melanie’s tarot interpretation book at her.
Melanie tossed it back. “It doesn’t count if I do it. Figure it out, while I go grab us something to drink. Want anything, short stuff?”
“Chocolate milk!” Ethan shrieked.
“Quiet, you! Mommy is trying to concentrate.”
Melanie grinned affectionately at her blond cousins and went into the kitchen. She came back a couple of minutes later with a chocolate soymilk for Ethan and rosemary lemonade for the adults.
“Thanks. I think I’ve got it figured out now.” Her cousin’s forehead was wrinkled over the cards. Melanie could see faint crows feet around her eyes. Brisa was thirty now and starting to show it, a depressing thought for two single women. Melanie wasn’t far behind in age.
“It’s all good?” she said hopefully.
Brisa shook her head. “Nope.”
“No devil this time?” Melanie looked over her shoulder.
“Nope.” Brisa took a sip of her lemonade. “Okay.” She pointed to a card with a man in a robe dropping coins into a beggar’s hands. “You should be open-handed and generous right now, so that your reputation will benefit. You should also be self-sufficient.”
“What’s new?” Melanie quipped.
“So watch that lack of self-confidence,” Brisa commanded. “You need to have confidence because you’re going to be a sacrificial lamb.”
Melanie pointed to the card entitled The Hanged Man. “That doesn’t look good.”
“Maybe not, but the next card is saying, ‘What is truly yours cannot be taken from you’.” She read from the book. “You need to refrain from taking sides, find someone who can help you make arrangements and then you can look forward to using your sharp mind and sensitivity. You’ll need to make quick decisions and then you will be rewarded.”
“But not until I’m sacrificed?” Melanie made a face and pulled the book from her cousin’s hands, checking Brisa’s recitation.
Brisa shrugged. “What are you gonna do?”
Melanie flopped onto the bed, displacing the cards, and propped a hand under her chin. “Couldn’t you just have told me I was going to meet a tall, dark and handsome stranger who would sweep me off my feet and we’d live happily ever after?”
“You’d never have believed me!”
* * * * *
On Monday morning, Melanie pushed aside the bottle samples for Midnight Oil and picked up her ringing phone.
“When you threaten something, you follow through, don’t you?” Melanie recognized the voice instantly, but it wasn’t a sexy purr this time. He was all business.
Rob. “I take it you got the letter?” Melanie straightened her jacket then stopped. As if he could see her.
“Why did you bother?” he asked.
“She’s a single mother, Rob. She quit because she was tired of being harassed. Do you think either of us would make that up?”
“No, I don’t.” He sighed.
Could he finally be willing to trust her? She asked tentatively, not wanting to be proven wrong, “What are you going to do?”
“Buy you dinner.”
“What?” Had he forgiven her too and now wanted to conclude Saturday’s night-of-passion-interruptus? The sudden pounding of her heart told her that her body still screamed “yes!” but her mind wasn’t so sure how she would take the suggestion if it was offered. If only she could stop thinking so much. What had happened to the impulsive teenager who changed her life on a whim? “She learned from her mistakes,” Melanie’s sarcastic inner voice reminded her.
“Why not? Let’s talk in person.”
“Don’t you need to talk to Brisa?” she probed, trying to get a feel
for what he had in mind.
“I can’t, Melanie, now that she has a lawyer. I should just send the letter to my lawyer and forget about it until it’s settled, in the process probably generating more financial reward for the lawyers than for your cousin.”
“I just want her taken care of until she finds another job. She doesn’t want to go back to work for your grandfather.”
“I don’t blame her,” Rob said tersely. “Frankly, he can be a real pain in the ass.”
Melanie raised her eyebrows. “Maybe we can talk.”
“Good. Tomorrow?”
“Sure.” They agreed to meet at a Thai restaurant.
Melanie frowned as she hung up. How had a threatened lawsuit turned into a date? At least that’s what it felt like, even if he didn’t indicate a desire for erotic evening activities to follow the dinner. Unfortunately, she needed to behave professionally so she could get her cousin what she needed. She picked up the phone to call Brisa. At least one of them would soon have a little more security.
Chapter Twelve
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Melanie said, sitting down at the small wooden table where Rob waited. The restaurant, a popular one with Queen Anne neighborhood locals, was packed with professionals too tired to cook on a Tuesday night. “I was stuck in a design review meeting.”
Rob glanced at his watch. It read seven thirty-five pm. Even CEOs didn’t usually get caught in meetings that continued into this hour. “Why did it go so late?”
She looked lovely in a green cotton dress that molded to her curves. It was probably one of those dresses that, if you complimented her, she’d shrug it off and say, “this old thing?” but it looked great. He was reminded of the Roethke line, “I knew a woman, lovely in her bones”. Melanie looked good in everything, whether it be classic or trendy. He mentally stripped the dress off her and looked again. She’d look even better naked. Bodies like that didn’t come from sitting behind a desk all day. He remembered seeing her by the pool in Vegas. They both liked to swim. If he needed a ploy to get her over to his house, he could invite her to swim in his pool.
“Why are you staring at me? Rob?”
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