“The better mood you’re in, the better deal I get,” he said.
Then he was going to take me to the cleaners because I’d just had the best twenty-four hours of my life. I was smart enough not to say that, and not just because I didn’t want to talk about my mother.
“If you wanted a really good deal, you should have ordered me some sausage too.” I flushed, hoping he wouldn’t take that the wrong way. Luckily he didn’t seem to read the penis parallel, so I didn’t have to babble stupidly and apologize.
By the time our brunch was over, we’d negotiated on almost everything. A few pieces I refused to haggle on, and he decided he’d come see them for himself the next day.
“I won’t make it until after seven,” he said again. “You’re sure it won’t interfere with your Friday night plans?”
“No problem at all,” I said. The girls wouldn’t mind me running downstairs for a little while. In fact, as handsome as Garrett was, I wouldn’t be surprised if they joined me to ogle him. Well, maybe not Lorraine. She’d been dating a hot accountant recently. I snorted inwardly. Who was I kidding? Even if she was off the market, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t want to admire the scenery. Garrett might not be my type, but he was easy on the eyes.
“Right. Your mother.”
He took my hand and pulled me into a hug. He smelled amazing and totally edible. My mouth actually watered. His chest was more muscular than I expected. Maybe I could be into him.
He leaned back slightly, his pelvis rubbing into mine unexpectedly. I almost jumped out of my skin.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
Part of me wanted to just snuggle up to him like a kitten, but then he’d think I gave a shit about my mother, and he’d also think I was into him, and I wasn’t going to blow a terrific business relationship for a little nookie. Anyhow, even if I was attracted to him, I wouldn’t do anything about it. Another emotional crippling I could lay at the feet of my mother. I didn’t date. I didn’t get involved with anybody. Not with mom ready to eat them alive. The girls were different. We’d been friends since grade school and even when I tried to push them off to protect them, they’d clung to me like barnacles. Thank God. ’Course, maybe now that I was free, I could figure out how to get involved with someone.
But not with Garrett. I took one more breath of his delicious scent, then pushed away. I smiled. “Thank you, but honestly, I’m fine.”
His hands lingered on my shoulders. “Are you sure? We can postpone all this for a few weeks. I was devastated when my mother died.”
Because his mother wasn’t a demon from hell. I frowned. “Oh my goodness, Garrett. I had no idea.”
He shrugged but I could see old sorrow in his eyes. “It’s been a few years. But, Beck, I’m not in any hurry.”
I shook my head. “Trust me. I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
He smiled. “I look forward to it.”
Wow. I’d never noticed his killer smile before. The girls were going to eat him alive and be irritated at me for keeping him a secret for so long.
Garrett left ahead of me. I retreated to the bathroom first and brushed my teeth. I had a couple of stops to make with new estate sale clients and didn’t need to blow bacon breath in all their faces.
I’d parked in the underground garage instead of using the valet parking. I had a thing about other people driving my car. I went outside and down the steps to the second level. When I reached my car, it was blocked by a long black limo. A man leaned casually against the front end, arms crossed. He was dark blond with short hair on the sides and longer on top. He wore a leather jacket and jeans and a pair of boots.
He had a short beard, a brooding forehead, and a strong nose. Mostly he put off that sexy bad boy vibe that had women in a five-block radius wetting themselves and not knowing why.
As I approached, he straightened as if waiting for me.
“You’re blocking me in,” I said. “Do you mind?” I went past him without waiting for an answer.
“Miss Wyatt, I’m Damon Matrovani. My employer would like a word with you. You can ride with me and I’ll return you here later, or I can have someone follow us in your car.”
As if. Nobody drove my 1965 Thunderbird but me. Plus, I didn’t take orders from strangers. Hell, I didn’t take orders.
I opened the trunk, dropped in my tote and purse, and then shut it before turning back around to look at Mr. Sex on a Sandwich. He’d stopped barely a foot away. I could smell him—woodsy and musky and pure male. Better than Garrett by far, except I didn’t want to curl up on this hunk of man like a kitten. I wanted to tear his clothes off and claw his back.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Matrovani, was it? But I have several meetings that I can’t miss. Have your employer contact my office, and I’ll be happy to arrange a meeting.”
“My employer is happy to compensate you for your trouble at whatever you should wish to charge.”
I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were in the gloom of the parking garage, but I could feel them boring through me. Not in any sort of sexual way, which oddly irritated me. It was more like I was being pinned to a foam board like a giant bug.
“Seriously? Throw money at a girl, and what? You expect her to just offer herself up? I’ve got news for you, Mr. Matrovani. I’m not a whore, and you can tell your employer he can stick his head up his ass and see if he can find a brain up there. Now move your car and let me out.”
His nostrils flared. “I didn’t suggest that you are a whore, Miss Wyatt.”
“Sure you did. Now get out of my way.”
I started to brush past him. He blocked my path.
“I did not suggest you are a whore,” he repeated, his gaze furious. “As you say, you are a busy woman, and your time is valuable. I merely indicated that you would be compensated for your time.”
Apparently I’d hit a nerve. I gave my best fake syrupy smile. “My valuable time is spoken for. Call for an appointment.”
I started to pass him again, and once more he blocked me. “I’m afraid I must insist, Miss Wyatt,” Damon Dickhead said in a completely nonapologetic tone that totally contradicted his words.
I let my gaze rove down his body and back up. I took my time, examining the broad sweep of his shoulders, the taut narrowing of his waist, and the roll of his muscular thighs inside his tight jeans. My mouth watered. He was sex on a sin stick. Just the type to get me hot and bothered in a way that polite and reserved Garrett never could. This guy exuded masculine animalism like Fukushima gave off radiation. He had that bad boy careless arrogance thing going on that made me want to rub on him like a cat in a bed of catnip.
God, I was a cliché. Why did women always want to screw the pricks? I bit back a smile. Oh yeah, screwing his prick could be loads of fun. Not that I’d know what to do with him.
My one and only sexual experience had been miserable at best. It had taken place in the backseat of a car with Marco Culver, a jock in my high school. He’d shoved his dick inside me once, and that had hurt like fuck. I hadn’t hung around to see if it got better. The girls said I couldn’t judge by a clumsy ass like him and that sex with someone who knew how to touch a woman was better than a refrigerator full of cheesecake, so I was ready and willing to try again. But not with Damon Dickweed, even if he did look like he was an expert at making a woman scream with pleasure.
“I admit, you’re awfully pretty,” I said finally, taking satisfaction in the red that had risen in his cheeks at my slow perusal. “But I’m not interested in anything you—or your employer—” (I put employer in air quotes) “—have to offer.” I did my best to adopt the snotty-haughty tone my mother had perfected that always reduced people to squirming worms.
He scowled and then stepped forward, leaning into me, his delicious scent curling around me. It was outdoorsy and male. Oh, so male. Dear lord, this ridiculous attraction had to be an aftereffect of mom’s death. With her gone, my hormones were unleashed and had decided to make up for lost ti
me and start slobbering over random men. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up humping his leg.
His tempting lips were just inches from mine, his stormy blue eyes piercing through me. His voice had dropped into a low growl that made my insides quiver. “Sweetheart, if I wanted you, I’d have you and you’d be begging on your knees for more.”
He straightened, giving me a cool once-over. He clearly was not turned on. “The only thing I want from you is to come with me for a little while and meet my employer.”
And a big bucket of ice water doused my lust. Thank goodness. I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “Insist all you want, but I’ve no intention of going off with a strange man to God knows where for God knows why.”
“I have no intention of hurting you,” he said, looking offended.
I couldn’t help my smile. Another effect of saying bye bye to Mommy Dearest—I didn’t feel like I had to keep myself shut down all the time. I could afford to smile. Laugh even. “I bet Ted Bundy said that to all the women he killed.”
He cracked an appreciative smile, and it was devastating. My knees wobbled and my breath caught in my throat. God, I was way too easy.
He lifted his hands, palms up. “How can I convince you that I mean no harm?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t lie in wait for me in a parking garage, for starters. You do realize how creepy that is, right?” I lifted an eyebrow.
He had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “This is too important to wait, and I wanted to speak to you in private.”
“All right.” I folded my arms. “I’ll bite. What’s so important?”
He grimaced. “I can’t tell you. My employer wishes to speak with you himself.”
“And we’re back to the beginning. I can’t imagine what your employer wants so badly from an estate sale coordinator, but he’ll just have to make an appointment. In public,” I added pointedly. “And during the day.” I glanced at my watch. “I have places to be. You need to move.”
I turned to unlock the Thunderbird, my back prickling with awareness of Damon Handsomepants.
He let out quiet sigh. “I really am sorry, but this really is for your own good.”
A whirl of blue magic circled around me, pinning my arms to my sides. For a second, I was too shocked to react. Aside from my mother, I’d never encountered another person who could do magic. And now that I had, he was trying to kidnap me.
I twisted to look at him. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t be afraid. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
He looked like he really wanted me to believe him. He even looked a little guilty. The asshole reached for me to drag me into the limo.
“I don’t think so,” I said stepping back and shimmying out of the magic binding. It fell to the ground like stretchy Jell-O.
I expected him to look surprised, but he didn’t, which was more unnerving than his doing magic. He tensed, power crackling over his hands as he started to cast another spell at me.
Adrenaline and fear gave me the faster edge. Grasping my own magic in my hands, I whacked him in the chest. I clobbered him so hard, he rolled back over the hood of the limo and tumbled off the other side. That would leave bruises.
Before he could collect himself and come after me again, I looped magic under the front axle of the limo and flipped it backward onto its roof. The crashing sound echoed through the garage and made me jump.
I opened my car door and jumped inside then squealed backward out of the slot, swerving to miss Damon Asswipe, who’d already regained his feet. He staggered, shaking his head as if to clear it. I gunned the Thunderbird and screeched up the ramp and out of sight, leaving behind about half my tires on the pavement.
I pitched out into traffic, swerving to avoid a collision. I was running on instinct. Cars honked, but I put the pedal to the metal and roared down the street, turning quickly to make sure I was out of the line of sight of Damon Nutsack if he managed to pull his shit together and get to the sidewalk before I got away. I wouldn’t put it past him to flatten all my tires with magic or maybe drop my drivetrain.
After I put a few miles behind me, I pulled into the parking lot of the Seventh Day Adventist Church and parked. My hands were shaking, and my heart was racing. I made myself breathe. What in the fuck had just happened? Who were Damon and his employer and what did they want with me? What should I do now?
I couldn’t call the cops. What would I say? That he lassoed me with magic and tried to drag me off to his lair? They’d have me stashed in the looney bin before lunch, and from the way they questioned me, they already thought I killed my mother.
“Maybe he’ll give up,” I muttered. But he wouldn’t. Nothing about the man suggested he was a quitter. He would be coming for me again. At home, in the shop, at a sale—I wasn’t all that hard to find.
Well, let him. I could take care of myself. I’d survived my mother and all the hell she’d thrown at me over the years. Anyway, I’d fought off Mr. Damon Buttplug once. I could damned well do it again. If he wanted to come after me, let him try.
Chapter 5
I made it to my appointments, checking over my shoulder most of the time. I was semi-surprised when I got back to the shop and I didn’t see any sign of Damon HotStuff. Unless he could become invisible. Could he? I pulled thoughts away from that terrifying direction, or before long, I’d be thinking he could walk through walls and watch me through his crystal ball. Shit. What if he could?
I snorted. Well then, I’d better wear cute underwear. The idea of his spying on me mostly should have made me cringe, but I kept thinking of the wide plane of his muscular chest and gorgeous legs. Fuck. I needed to get laid for real. If only I did one-night stands ... but I didn’t. Lust wasn’t enough; I needed an emotional connection. Though the way I was going, my body might just start humping some strange guy before the rest of me knew what it was up to.
I spent the rest of the afternoon working on setting up a sale that would happen the following weekend, then running by the one happening on Saturday to make sure it was all ready. Monica, my right-hand Goddess of Organization, toured me through the house. I checked the prices and the displays, making a few changes.
“You did terrific,” I said. “As usual. I’ll be here by five on Saturday morning to help open.”
“With or without coffee and doughnuts?” Monica asked.
“Are you serious? I always bring the goods, don’t I?”
“I live in fear that you will forget,” she said with a grin, looking around in satisfaction. “This is going to be a good one.”
“I’ve already sold a lot of the stuff we held back,” I said. “Met with Garrett this morning.”
“How did it go?”
I thought of Damon Prancypants. Maybe that was exactly what he’d intended, but I couldn’t help wondering just what his employer wanted from me. The magical connection made me think this had something to do with my mother and that both made me ultracurious and pissed me off. “Went fine,” I said when I realized that Monica was staring at me.
“You all right?” she asked, frowning at me. “You look, I don’t know, out of sorts.”
I snorted. “Out of sorts? How old are you?”
“Stop deflecting. You know what I mean.”
That was the problem with having a psych major for an employee. They were a lot more perceptive than everybody else.
“I had a run-in with someone this morning,” I said, electing to go with part truth. “In the parking garage of the Marcross Hotel.”
Her face went angry. She did not like people fucking with her family or friends. “What do you mean—run-in?”
“This guy cornered me in the parking garage. Said he wanted me to meet with his employer.”
“There’s more to it than that. What aren’t you saying?”
Her gaze had narrowed, and I should have known better than to try to keep anything a secret. Somehow I didn’t want her to think too badly of Damon Tightpants. He could have tried a lot more
force. He’d been quite polite, as kidnappers go. He hadn’t used a knife or gun. That had to count.
Finally I shrugged. “He tried to grab me.”
Her eyes went wide. “Grab you? As in, kidnap? Rape? Tell me you called the cops.”
I shook my head. “The cops aren’t impressed with me right now, and anyway, nothing happened. I shoved him and got in my car and took off.”
“Jesus, Beck. You need to tell someone. The hotel, at least. What if he goes after another woman?”
“Sure,” I said, having no intention of calling anyone. Damon Dickhead had been after me, not making random attacks. The big question was why? The fact that, aside from my mother, he was the only other person I’d ever seen who could do magic suggested that his employer wasn’t interested in my estate sales business. Son of a bitch. I wanted to kick myself. I’d revealed I could do magic just as casually as he had. Maybe that had been the point. I got away awfully easy, considering.
That’s when it occurred to me to wonder if he or his so-called employer had had anything to do with my mother’s death. I mean, it was really coincidental that Damon shows up right after she dies and is throwing magic lassos. Well, if either he or his employer had killed Mommy Dearest, I owed them both a gift basket. An expensive one with gold watches and a bottle of elderly single malt Scotch.
“Seriously, Beck. This isn’t anything to take lightly,” Monica urged.
“I’ll think about it,” I said. But now I was looking forward to seeing Damon again and finding out just what he and his boss had been up to.
Back at my apartment, I decided I needed to take a run. Despite my mother’s using it as a torture device, I really liked it. Climbing and swimming too.
I got dressed and drove out to the river and parked at the Chemalok recreation area near the bathrooms. Trails ran up and down the river from the rec area. Upstream led to the bluffs and some of my favorite trails. They went for miles.
I got out, stretched, grabbed my water, then headed out.
I went slowly at first, savoring the sounds and smells of the water and the birds and the antics of the squirrels. I sped up as I went up the bluffs. There wasn’t much to see on this leg of the trail. I cleared the top to the plateau and stopped to drink. I’d gone about three miles and had only just started to sweat. I looked back down onto the river. It was a ribbon of glittering gold in the sunlight. The breeze cooled my skin, and I fell into a ground-eating run.
Putting the Fun in Funeral Page 3