by Maria Lima
"I had to pick something up at the deli the other night after I closed and when I went in, there was this guapo over at the counter. Boris introduced me. Whew!"
She paused and I could hear a cork pop. Damn. She'd even opened the wine.
"Anyway, m'hija, he was something else. When he looked at me, I couldn't even remember my own name. Those eyes."
"Bea, uh, thanks. I'll get there as soon as I can."
Well, at least I knew I wasn't the only one who was affected by Adam. If I didn't hang up, I knew she'd go on to wax poetic about his physique, and then have me hopping into bed with him before the conversation was through. Beatriz Ruiz certainly had a fine appreciation for the male half of the species. Not that I was complaining, but no sense in getting even more embarrassed than I already was.
"No problem.” She laughed into my ear. “See you when you get here, you lucky thing."
"Stop it! And don't eat all the food,” I said as I disconnected.
There was a moment of silence which was more uncomfortable than not. I didn't exactly know what he'd heard of Bea's side of the conversation if anything. Adam spoke first.
"Everything okay with your friend?” I could swear I heard amusement.
I nodded. “Yeah, she's just dandy; she started the party without me."
He grinned, a flash of even white teeth that gleamed even in the faint light from the dash. “Sounds as if she's enjoying herself."
"That she is.” I flicked on the headlights for a moment to see if the weather had improved any. It hadn't. I still couldn't see any further than a couple of feet past the hood.
"I think we're going to be stuck here a while,” I said. I knew it wasn't exactly original, but I didn't know what else to say. I didn't know if I actually minded, but at some point, I still had another phone call to make—about that dead cat. It was a call I couldn't make with any chance of being overheard.
Adam didn't reply, but I could hear him shifting in his seat. The Rover was a great car, but it wasn't exactly the most comfortable vehicle in the world. This model was designed to be a working truck, not luxury transportation. Plus, it was getting a little chilly. I was probably more comfortable in my wet jeans and towel draped over my shoulders than he was in his wet shorts. My leather jacket was in the back, but his shoulders were much broader than mine.
"Are you warm enough? I might be able to dig up another towel or two.” I automatically reached out to feel his arm. He'd turned in his seat and my hand touched his upper thigh instead. I snatched it back. His skin was cool and smooth to the touch.
"Sorry,” I mumbled, glad that the darkness hid the multiple shades of red that I could feel blossoming on my face. Damn, I didn't want this blushing thing to become a habit.
"Don't be,” he said, his voice soft. “Relax, Keira."
"I'm fine,” I answered automatically. “I've just had a bad day.” Or the mother of all bad days ... and I had a feeling it was going to get worse before it got better.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I turned toward the passenger seat. I preferred to face someone when I talked to them, even though I could barely make out the shape of his body against the darker background of night.
"Talk about it—why?"
"Why not? We're not going anywhere. We might as well chat for a while."
What I wanted to do was to change the subject. I didn't want to talk about me or my day. I'd never be able to explain any of it to him, so why even start.
"Nothing much to tell,” I finally said. “Just one of those days.” One that didn't seem to end.
"May I ask you a question?"
"Ask."
"You don't work at the funeral home, do you?"
"That is such a big ‘no'. I went there to talk to my cousin, the owner. Not that he was even there."
"Your cousin is the undertaker?” Adam sounded surprised.
"Yes, unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?"
"Let's just say he's not my favorite cousin."
He laughed softly. “Sounds as if he were part of your rough day."
"Yeah, well,” I said. “I can deal with him."
"I'm sure you can.” I could definitely hear amusement in his voice.
"Hmmph.” I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not.
"So when did you get into town? My friend saw you at the deli the other day."
I could hear the smile in his voice. “A few days ago. Up until then, I made most of my arrangements via phone, but I wanted to introduce myself to the deli owner, Boris Nagy. He brings deliveries out to the ranch."
"So he said."
"He told you that?” He sounded perturbed.
I was quick to reassure him. “We weren't gossiping or anything,” I said. “We were just talking about ... oops, sorry. Small town again. I guess we were gossiping a little. Boris told me he was making a delivery when they found the deer. When Carlton came out to talk to you all."
"Carlton?"
"Carlton Larson, our sheriff."
"You know him? I'd understood he was quite new."
"Only in the sense of being sheriff. He grew up here. Just came back recently."
"What do you think of him?"
For a second, I thought he was being facetious, but then I realized he only meant what I thought of Carlton as the sheriff. I'd never spoken about Carlton in England; hadn't needed to. I'd been happy to leave that part of my life behind.
"He's a good person,” I said. “But I don't know much about his policing skills. I haven't seen him in a long time."
"You knew him before?"
In various manners of speaking.
"I grew up here, too."
"I hadn't realized you were a native. You seemed so at home in Europe."
"I'm not exactly a native,” I said with a smile. “My father brought me to Texas as a child."
That's all I was willing to say. Native to me meant native Texan, native human. I was neither. I'd been born in my mother's homeland, deep below the faery mounds in a part of Wales still left to the wild.
Stayed there until I was nearly seven ... just long enough for dear Mum to get tired of the idea of raising me. There weren't many children around the mounds. The Sidhe weren't known for providing a loving family life, especially for the few half-bloods around. Not much need for new generations when the old ones don't exactly die. Dad came to my rescue just in time to get me acclimated to the outside world and start school with Marty.
Mainstreaming, we called it now. Something Dad's generation pioneered years ago and what most of my contemporaries in the clan were trying to do. Hide in plain sight—at least, until the day came that we could live in the open and reveal ourselves. That was the plan, anyway. I hoped it would happen, but I knew it was too much of a pipe dream. Humans didn't take too kindly to “different.” Even in our so-called enlightened Western culture, too many people were still discriminated against and they were all human. Imagine what would happen when people discovered that entire groups of beings existed outside of stories and movies. Plus, immortality: great idea, until you can't have it.
"So why did you decide to buy the Wild Moon?” I asked. “Last time I saw you, you were headed to Paris for some business deal. Why Texas?"
"I did go,” he said. “But then my plans changed. I was looking for a place I could renovate or build into a resort. The Wild Moon was that opportunity. The first guests arrived a few weeks ago. This is the first time I've had a chance to come here and stay for a while."
"I remember when it was sold,” I said. “But I didn't know it was you."
He sounded surprised. “You remember?"
"Yeah, I told you, it's a small town. I bought my place about the same time you bought the Wild Moon. Same realtor."
"So you're the one."
"The one what?"
"As you said, it's a small town. My estate agent stood me up one night. He'd been delayed by another client who'd just returned and was buying a house and some pro
perty."
I could feel him looking at me through the gloom.
"Small world.” I stared out into the black night not wanting to think of things best left unremembered.
"Sometimes not small enough.” Abruptly, his voice changed, the soft edges becoming a little sharper. “Why did you leave?"
"London?” I asked, knowing that's what he was asking.
"Yes.” He watched me carefully. I could almost hear the implied “me” behind that “yes.” He didn't have to say the rest. I never told him I was leaving. Didn't really tell anyone but the aunt I'd been staying with. I'd run away, but not from Adam. There hadn't been time for any goodbyes, only a hasty scribbled note dropped in the post. Not that I'd owed him any explanations, but we'd both grown used to seeing each other at the endless rounds of meaningless parties ... a comfort factor. Friendly faces in the frenetic pace of society's stupidity.
"The same reason I'd stayed in London for so many years. It ... he ... Gideon changed on me. Became someone I didn't want to be with."
"So you left without saying goodbye?” The mild reproach shamed me a little.
"I'm sorry,” I said. “I never thought..."
"I know,” he said. “I always knew. More's the pity.” He smiled gently. “I suppose we never did have more than a.... “He looked thoughtful, as if he was searching for the appropriate word.
"Flirtation?” I offered. “Friendship?"
"Yes. Both and neither."
He was right. It had been more than just a brief flirtation, yet not so much of a friendship. I'd felt a connection, an easy camaraderie that might have evolved into something more tangible, but there had been factors. My reluctance to involve myself with another human, plus I'd made the mistake of falling for Gideon.
Cousins only in the loosest sense of the word, Gideon and I were related, but no closer than a couple of generations. All clan were cousins, aunts, uncles, all connected. Clan blood begat clan blood. Our branch was particularly insular that way. Some connections were closer, some not so. Gideon fell somewhere in between. Tall, dark and devilishly handsome, he'd taken my heart and stomped that sucker flat, in the immortal words of an old country and western song. I'd been an idiot and too damned accepting. My family wasn't much into the concept of traditional Western marriage. When you live forever, that didn't exactly make sense. You could find all sorts of other hook-ups, though. Dad preferred serial monogamy. One of my brothers lived in a group home—two husbands, three wives and more kids than I cared to think about. It worked for them.
Me, I'd wanted to try this whole one-on-one thing, and chose Gideon. Bad decision. What I'd never told anyone is how much he'd scared me and that he'd done it on purpose. His power lay in darkness. He could speak to the shadows, call the shades. But that's not what frightened me. The dark is neutral; it just tends to hide a multitude of sins. Gideon not only flirted with power, he also toyed with evil. That's where I'd drawn the line.
He'd taught me much of what I knew today but, as is the rule with magick and power, there were always consequences.
I'd paid the price of naivet?. He'd convinced me we could never truly come together without removing all our barriers. I'd gone in like a puppy for a treat. When I'd touched his soul, the vileness inside him seared me and I'd scampered back to my aunt's to lick my wounds. Later, when I tried to confront him, his voice cut me with cruelty; words flayed my ego, slicing it like small sharp knives tearing away what had been left of my self-confidence. I'd run home with my metaphysical tail between my legs. I'd lost a lot of trust then, and I wasn't so sure I'd ever really gained it back.
I realized much later that he'd only been scared himself at his own potential for evil. He wasn't all that much older than me.
Before Gideon, the world had been mine. Now I was just happy to hold on to my little one-acre piece of it.
I closed my eyes against the memories and breathed in deeply. Mistake. I was sucker-punched by the warm enticing scent of nearby male, caught up by my supercharged senses, weakening my already shaky control. My belly clenched with want, my lips were suddenly dry. My eyelids flew open to meet Adam's steady gaze, the soft glow from the dashboard lights delineating his face, highlighting his glittering eyes, casting shadows underneath cheekbones sharp enough to slice your heart.
"Is he still a part of your life?” Adam's directness betrayed nothing, no sense of how he felt.
"Only in the sense of someone to avoid,” I said, managing a weak smile and trying to turn the conversation back to a lighter tone. I forced myself to ignore the emotions raging through me.
"Avoidance? So that's how you...” His voice trailed off. “Never mind."
He'd pegged me in one. That was exactly how I coped.
"Yeah. I left. Came home, expecting comfort and what passed for normal in the bosom of my family. Except, surprise, so not."
Adam said nothing for a moment.
"Not?"
"Not normal, not comfort, not anything I expected,” I replied. “Seems they'd decided to relocate. Bags packed, ready to go and all that."
Bea was there to help pick up the pieces when I flew home on the first flight out. I'd been only too willing to pay the exorbitant price to get back to my own turf as soon as possible. When I'd discovered my family had decided to leave and move to Canada, I freaked, electing to stay in Rio Seco. That's when my ever-loving great-great-granny lay down her version of the ultimatum. If I wanted to stay by myself and ignore my duties, the least I could do was watch Marty.
Home—warm, comfortable ... and safe? Not so much anymore. I'd sucked it up and taken Hobson's choice, figuring I could deal for a few years, until I figured out what to do.
Adam leaned toward me a little, his words a quiet counterpart to my agitation. “It looks like fate turned the other cheek,” he said.
"I guess so.” My words seemed a little loud in the silence of the night.
Silence. No more rain except for a few drip, drip, drips from the mesquite bushes.
"I suppose we should go,” I said, almost reluctant to speak the words.
Despite the underlying tension, I liked sitting here with him, sharing the night with someone I'd always felt was somewhat of a kindred spirit. A relief after my earlier encounter with Carlton, even with the tremendous attraction. Adam and I had baggage, but it was definitely the small carry-on kind, not a burden. Carlton's baggage was more an overstuffed Pullman.
"I suppose,” Adam echoed. He sounded as disinclined to leave as I did.
I sneaked another glance over at him as I turned on the headlights and started the engine. He turned to stare out the windshield, almost as if he could see through the darkness. There was an intensity about him that made me wonder if he was looking for something specific or just staring because he was thinking about something else. I figured I'd ask.
"What are you looking at?"
He turned to look at me. “Nothing,” he said, his voice soft and quiet. “I think I prefer the view in here."
I ignored him, and hoped he couldn't see my face. I knew I was blushing again.
——
We topped a rise and I saw the lights of civilization or at least of the Wild Moon.
"Wow.” My reaction wasn't exactly eloquent, but it was all I was capable of right then.
The complex of buildings was bigger than many small towns. A Victorian-styled inn sat on a small rise, its windows lit up by a soft yellow glow, giving it a cheerful appearance. From my vantage point I could see several outbuildings nestled around the grounds, and beyond those, a number of what could only be guest cottages, some more like full-fledged houses than vacation cabanas. Every cottage echoed the elegant styling of the main inn, down to its wraparound porches, gables and bay windows.
Without warning, Adam's hand was on my shoulder, a brand burning me through the towel. My heart began to pound, my breathing came faster. Every millimeter of my skin tingled as if I were filled with electrical energy. My mouth was suddenly dry.
"Nice
view, isn't it,” he said, the chocolate goodness of his voice melting over me, soothing the tension, but yet, at the same time increasing it with a subtle stroke.
At first I thought he was being facetious again, but I realized he was looking out the window at the lights of the buildings.
"It's lovely,” I managed to squeak out.
This just had to be good old-fashioned sexual tension. If this were part of the symptoms of the change, it was most definitely not what I'd expected. A little magick, some clairvoyant nightmares, okay, but not this extreme sexual awareness and sensitivity, magnifying every bit of interest I'd ever had in him. Sure he was gorgeous, sure I'd always been attracted to him, but right now, I wasn't sure whether I wanted Adam Walker to jump out of the car or just jump me—and neither seemed to be the appropriate choice.
I clamped down on my shields, and shrugged off his hand, trying to shut down the connection before I let myself act on my base instincts, no matter how much I wanted to. Reinforcing my guard didn't seem to help much. He was so there. No matter what I did, I felt him. Concentrate on driving, Keira Kelly, concentrate. If I stared straight ahead, I could force myself to ignore most of the sensations.
"Where would you like me to drop you off?” I was surprised that I could sound this normal when my entire body was humming.
"Go around the main building and to the cottages in the back. Mine is the first one on the left.” His tone was pleasant and quiet.
I was shielding so tightly my nerves hummed with the effort. Controlling my emotions was my priority right now. Besides, I figured that Adam couldn't possibly tell how totally insane I was at the moment. His expression hadn't changed. A bland, but friendly, smile was still on his face.
I pulled to a stop in front of the house. No lights shone inside, but the front light illuminated enough of the porch and the circular drive for me to see that it was more than just your average two- or three-room weekend-getaway place. This mini-Victorian had some serious square footage. I'd guess at least a couple of thousand at the very least. Not too shabby. Guess it paid to be the king.
The other vacation cottages weren't much smaller. There were four houses in the little cul-de-sac, but each sat in its own small yard area, at least a hundred feet from its neighbor. Not bad.