Summoning all her willpower, she broke the kiss and eased away from him. “We should really—”
“Slow it down,” he finished. “You’re right, sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“So did I.”
Half a second passed before they were locked in another hot and heavy make-out session. She couldn’t get enough of his kisses, or the tendrils of sweet desire making their way to every part of her. Since Tommy, she’d been too afraid to allow herself to feel much of anything for a guy. And in that time, she’d learned every flavor of loneliness. Maybe it was time to move on, to take a chance.
Since Griffin wasn’t going to be in town for long, what could be the harm in a short-term indulgence? He’d be gone before they could get serious. So she surrendered to the building passion, and let herself enjoy the internal heat keeping the cold winter air at bay.
Griffin held her against his chest, and she could hear the steady beats of his heart. “If I don’t get going soon, I’m afraid leaving will be a whole lot more difficult.”
It had been so long since she’d been with a man, and it was way too tempting to completely let loose. She’d never been that sort of woman. Despite her live-and-let-live philosophy, she’d always been cautious in matters of the heart, especially after witnessing several of her mother’s disastrous relationships. “You’re right.” Peeling the blanket off her shoulder, she stood up. “Would you like some lavender bread to go?”
He forked up the rest of his piece and ate it. After he swallowed, he rubbed his flat stomach. “I couldn’t manage another bite tonight, but if it’s okay with you, maybe I could come over tomorrow for seconds?”
Before she could answer, he reeled her in for one last lip-lock. Her legs turned to noodles. Thankfully she was able to lean on Griffin for support. When they parted, she heard herself sigh with pleasure. “Tomorrow then,” she managed.
Taking a step away, he held onto her hand. “Thank you for dinner. It was…incredible.” Fingers still entwined with hers, he backed through the beaded curtain and stepped off the porch. “Good night.”
“Night.”
Finally, they broke contact. She waited there, watching him disappear next door before she went inside. It had been a long day, but she felt as if she could scale a mountain, or float up to the peak. As she cleaned up the dinner dishes, she realized she was humming an old love song. Which was beyond silly.
After she’d fed all the cats, she started toward her bedroom. Her cell phone signaled a missed call. Griffin?
Just the thought of talking to him again made her stomach flutter with anticipation. The call, however, was from her grandmother. Hmm. It was awfully late for her grandma. Hoping everything was all right, she phoned her back.
“Do you miss me yet?” her grandma asked.
“Of course I do.” In truth, though, Griffin had been occupying her thoughts almost since the moment he’d driven away with her grandmother in the passenger seat of his Volvo.
“I don’t believe you, and you just cost me the price of Cousin Etta’s Bingo cards from last night. I bet her that you’d be busy with your handsome young man.”
She bit her lip as she considered what to say to that. “He’s not my young man, Grandma. And besides, no one could ever take your place.”
“If you say so, child.”
“I do.” She definitely didn’t want to discuss her love life with her grandmother. “Are you and Etta having a good time together?”
“We always do,” she said. “You remember that spiritualist community in Florida you were thinking about when you moved to Nocturne Falls?”
“Freedom Moon?”
“That’s it. Etta says they’re expanding it, tripling the size of the place. Her granddaughter’s one of the coven members there. You remember Bree, don’t you? She said they’re looking for people interested in opening metaphysical sorts of businesses. Maybe you could—”
“Thanks, Grandma. But I like it here.”
“I know, I know. Just something to keep in mind for the future.”
She didn’t want to think about anything but the here and now. If she did, she’d certainly ruin her happy mood. For the moment at least, she was enjoying her cozy home and the attention of a guy who definitely wouldn’t be sticking around for long, which made him a lot safer to hang out with.
“I was hoping that you’d use this time while I was away to get to know Griffin better.”
Stevie rolled her eyes. “Oh really?”
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”
How’d she know? “Griffin and I are just friends, and it has to stay that way.” Well, mostly.
“Humph. You’re too stubborn for your own good.”
“And who’d I inherit that trait from?”
After she and her grandmother said their goodbyes, she got ready for bed, ushering Namaste and Bandit into her bedroom, and turning on the small lamp on her vanity table.
Her head had no sooner hit the pillow when she heard tapping at her window. Sitting up, she teased back the curtain and startled when Griffin waved at her through the glass. She opened the window a few inches and shivered at the brisk midnight air. “What are you doing out there?”
His crooked grin made him even more handsome. “I saw your light on and figured you couldn’t sleep, either.”
Why explain that she always slept with a lamp on?
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His gaze fell to her lips and remained there.
She leaned closer and shut her eyes. Another magical kiss had her practically intoxicated with that champagne bubble high. Desire heated her from the inside out and curled her toes.
When she opened her eyes, they were lying on a soft blanket in a beautiful meadow, surrounded by the sweet smell of wild honeysuckle. Edged in the moonlight, Griffin’s features appeared even more chiseled and masculine.
The realization that this must be a dream didn’t diminish her pleasure one little bit. Quite the contrary. She wanted this, needed it as desperately as air or water. Since it wasn’t really happening, she could relax and indulge.
Griffin lifted off his shirt, and she seized the opportunity to run her hands over the hard planes of his shoulders and sides. He stared down at her and shook his head. “You’re so beautiful.”
“So are you.”
Moving over her, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Are you sure?”
What could it hurt to take a lover in her dreams? She answered the question with a kiss.
Hours later, as morning rays of sunshine poked Stevie awake, she peeled open her eyes and glanced around the familiar comforts of her bedroom. Sliding her arm over the mattress, she found it warm, as if someone had recently occupied the spot. Probably just one of the cats.
She threw back the covers and got up, still feeling as if she was walking on air. In the kitchen, she started a pot of coffee and fed the cats.
Movement outside caught her attention. Griffin carried a ladder toward his backyard. She hurriedly poured two cups of coffee then carried them out the back door. “Good morning,” she called to him.
He poked his head over the fence and gave her a smile. “Morning.”
Handing him one of the mugs, her fingers brushed his. She recalled her dream, and a pleasant shiver danced over her skin. “Sleep well?”
Griffin swallowed and dropped her gaze. His ears grew red. “Not really. But it was worth it.” A few beads of perspiration slid down his forehead. Sure, he’d just set down a heavy ladder, but it was a damp, chilly morning. Why was he sweating? He looked into her eyes, and something told her he’d had a similar dream.
He removed his glasses and took a drink of coffee. “Mm, thanks.”
“Sure. When you want to take a break you should come by for that lavender bread.”
His lips flattened. “If now’s convenient, I can fix your kitchen faucet. Then I’d like to inspect y
our roof. Just to know if it needs any work.” He slipped on his glasses. “Can’t sell a house with a bad roof. Have you noticed any leaks when it rains?”
Reality bitch-slapped her. Why should she care that he was attractive? Or sweet, or anything else? He obviously had only one objective—and that was to kick her out of her house so he could cash out and hightail it back to New York.
She’d read about a serial killer who was handsome, too. Not that Griffin compared to some depraved murderer, or to any criminal. The man had a life, with responsibilities, bills, and who knew what else. And if she were fortunate enough to ever have property willed to her, she’d probably do what he was doing. But that didn’t lessen her resolve to stay. “No leaks,” she said. “Go ahead and inspect away.”
Without waiting for him to respond, she strode toward her back door, went inside, and shut it a little harder than necessary.
No, she had no right to begrudge Griffin his mission, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.
Chapter Six
The hurt in Stevie’s expression ripped through Griffin like an ice pick to his heart. He’d already started to care about her, and he wanted her more than he had any woman in a long time, especially after the dream he’d had about her last night. They’d made love in a field of flowers, under the stars.
But he had to be sensible about this. Just because his tenant was smart and pretty and an amazing cook, didn’t mean he should forgo selling her cottage. He lived almost a thousand miles away from Stevie, and they were as different as night and day. Of course, he felt awful about last night. He should never have allowed his libido to cloud his judgment. Best thing to do now was keep things with Stevie purely businesslike. Bad enough that she was going to have to move because of him. He wouldn’t add insult to injury by getting involved with her and possibly breaking her heart when he inevitably left.
Setting his coffee down on the ground, he was about to position the ladder against Stevie’s house when Bud Weller turned into the driveway. And there was someone in the passenger seat. Griffin hoped it wasn’t the home inspector. Why hadn’t the man called before coming? Irritation prickled the back of his neck.
Weller got out first, followed by a plump blonde in high heels and a red coat. “Sorry, we came unannounced, Griffin. We were in the area and my wife insisted upon seeing the houses. I hope now’s not inconvenient.”
Griffin glanced at Stevie’s door, and his breakfast churned in his stomach. “Actually, I’m in the middle of a few projects at the—”
“Mm-hmm.” Weller cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Charity, this is Griffin, the property owner.”
The woman gave him a tight smile then strode past him toward the porch of his aunt’s house. “Looks a bit small for us, Bud.”
“We haven’t even seen the inside,” he told her. “Maybe Griffin will let us have a look, hmm?” He raised a hopeful eyebrow at Griffin. “As long as we’re all here now.”
Only because the couple had ambushed him. “I was just getting started on something.”
Charity gestured toward Stevie’s cottage. “So that’s where Mama will live?” She crinkled her nose. “First thing we’ll have to do is rip out all those weeds in the yard.”
“They’re not weeds.” Griffin squared his shoulders. “Actually there are lots of medicinal plants growing. The tenant uses them to make teas and other concoctions.”
The older couple exchanged a glance. Finally, Charity said, “Well it looks like a big mess to me.”
Griffin’s jaw automatically tightened. “Best I can offer you is a tour of the other house. You’ll have to make an appointment to view the rental.”
The woman’s frown deepened. “Fine. Let’s see our house. Hopefully, the interior is in better condition than the exterior.”
He took the couple inside but didn’t walk them through. Rather, he waited in the kitchen in order to avoid hearing Mrs. Weller’s constant complaints about the house. When she returned to the kitchen, she hooked her husband’s arm and stage-whispered in Bud’s ear. “The bathrooms are going to cost us a fortune to update, and don’t get me started on everything we’ll need to do to make the kitchen livable.”
Griffin shifted from foot to foot. “I’m a licensed contractor, and I’ve been a code enforcement officer for several years. This house is solid—good bones, structurally sound, water-tight roof.”
A deafening clap of thunder shook the building. Rain pelted the windows as loud as applause in a packed house at Madison Square Garden. And a leak opened up just above Charity Weller. In an instant, she was drenched.
Stepping out from under the water, she shrieked. “Water-tight my sweet patootie!”
Griffin grabbed for the dishtowel at the stove and handed it to her. “That’s got to be new. We had a storm a couple days ago and this didn’t happen.”
Mrs. Weller raised a blond eyebrow at her husband.
Bud cleared his throat. “Our offer will reflect the condition of the roof and the houses in general.”
Griffin rubbed away the beginnings of a headache at the bridge of his nose. He’d personally walked that roof, checked every shingle, and even shored up some old flashing. It wasn’t like him to miss a compromised area.
“Maybe we should take another look, Bud. We went through awfully fast.” Charity strode down the hall to the master bedroom, both men following. “At least this is a decent size, and it has an en-suite bathroom.” She opened the closet door and poked her head inside. “And a nice-size closet.”
The sound of snapping wood shattered the momentary silence, and suddenly the overhead closet shelf gave way. A large cardboard box crashed to the floor, barely missing Charity’s shoulder. The contents—a collection of Aunt Dorothea’s mementos—lay scattered on the closet floor.
Griffin scratched his head. “It’s an easy fix.” He gestured toward the bathroom. “All the fixtures are in great shape. Take a look.”
Charity flipped the light switch before entering but nothing happened. She tried it again, and all the power in the house went out, plunging them into darkness. “This must be quite a storm.”
Indeed, Griffin had never seen it so pitch black during the day. He went to the kitchen to fetch a flashlight. Before he made it to the counter he walked right into a chair, one he’d been sure was somewhere else in the room.
He shook his head and tried to open the drawer. Stuck. Jeez, this just wasn’t his day. He heard the couple enter the room, but he could barely make them out in the darkness. Grasping the handle more firmly, he gave it a hard yank. When it opened, a puff of smoke came out of it.
Charity gasped and coughed. “What in the world?”
“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” he murmured. “Perhaps the fire extinguisher under the sink malfunctioned.”
Bud turned on the light on his phone and aimed it at the drawer. The smoke was pink, of all colors.
Griffin ushered them out of the kitchen, afraid the smoky air could be dangerous. Once they were in the living room, he lit a candle and drew a relieved breath. But when he glimpsed tendrils of pink smoke creeping out from under the coat closet door, his worry returned.
Bud leveled a concerned stare at him. “Issues are piling up here, son.”
“Must be a faulty wire somewhere,” Griffin ventured as he pulled open the closet door. Only a faint earthy smell remained, kind of herbal. And familiar. But he couldn’t place it, so he didn’t even try to remember. He had way more pressing mysteries to figure out.
“If an outage in the area caused a power surge, that might have…ignited a frayed section of wire.” Quite a stretch, but there had to be some rational reason for all the sudden problems. “The lightning could have sparked something.” He pulled back the window curtains, expecting storm clouds, or at least the aftermath of a deluge. Instead, bright sunshine filled the sky, and not a wet sidewalk, tree or blade of grass could be found.
What the heck?
; They hadn’t all imagined the storm. “That’s odd.” He blew out the candle.
“We need to discuss this, Bud, privately,” Charity told her husband. “Something’s fishy. I’d like to go. Now.”
He nodded. “We’ll be in touch, Griffin,” Bud told him as they headed to the door.
Had the strange incidents frightened off the couple for good? Strange, or magic.
Far back as he could remember, his dad had always assured him that every weird occurrence in the world had an explanation. Events that appeared to be supernatural could always be explained through research.
“Absolutely everything has a rational explanation if you look hard enough,” his father had told him as they’d watched a meteor shower when Griffin was six or seven years old.
“Mom told me that shooting stars are good luck,” Griffin had responded. “She said if I made a wish on one, it would come true.”
His dad grasped Griffin’s shoulders. “That’s nonsense, you hear me? Shooting stars aren’t stars at all. What you’re seeing is bits of dust and rock. Nothing more. There’s no such thing as luck, good or bad. Your mother told you lies. Another reason we’re better off without her in our life.”
Maybe his dad was right. After all, how many times had Griffin wished that his mother would return home? He’d wished every time he’d blown out his birthday candles, and each time he’d found an eyelash. Yet she never came back. “Is that why she had to go to prison because she lied?”
His father released him and straightened to his full height. “Not exactly. She broke some rules, and that’s how we punish people for bad behavior.”
The buzz of his cell was a welcome interruption to his memories. Checking the display, he found the name of the real estate agent who was handling the purchase of his house in New York. He cleared his throat before answering. “Hello, John. What’s up?”
“We’ve got a bit of a glitch.”
Griffin sat on Aunt Dorothea’s recliner chair. “What kind of glitch?”
The agent heaved a sigh. “The sellers have a backup offer. And it’s higher than yours. What that means is that if any little thing goes wrong on your end, well…the sellers will back out of your deal to take the higher one.”
The Yin to His Yang Page 8