Friends and Lovers Trilogy 02 - Charmed

by Beth Ciotta

  Nice?

  “But I’m not your type, and you’re definitely not my type, so let’s just forget about the kiss and the sex thing and watch the movie.” Instead of moving away, which would have made sense after that statement, she snuggled closer.

  Nice? It took every ounce of his will-power not to haul her up and throw her back on the couch. He wanted to devour her delectable mouth with an open-mouth, no-holds-barred kiss. He wanted to lick every inch of her lemon-scented body. He wanted to bury his cock inside of her and fuck her until the sun came up.

  But he was nice.

  Bogie, if he ever called, would never believe it. He didn’t believe it. A beautiful woman was nestled in his arms, a woman high on Ecstasy no less, and instead of messing around they were watching an animated flick. A goofy crab, a skittish fish, and an impetuous mermaid.

  Well, hell. At least he wasn’t depressed.

  Chapter Eight

  Swimming.

  She was pushing through a sea of mer-people. Swimming toward something special.

  She heard the excited squeals of children as they crabwalked over the finish line.

  Racing. Running. From someone. Toward someone. Music blared. Caribbean music. No, Dirty Dancing. “I’ve had the time of my life …”

  Then she saw him. Dark. Dangerous. Shark!

  “Call me if you need me. Twenty-four/seven.”

  She screamed, but nothing came out. Throat dry. Can’t breathe. Drowning. “Murphy!”

  Strong hands gripping her, pulling her toward the surface. “Open your eyes, Princess.”

  The shark smiled, colorful laser lights glinted off his razor sharp teeth. “Another time.”

  “Luciana.”

  Her eyes flew open as she broke the surface and gasped for air. “Murphy.” She sagged against him, her heart thudding against her ribs.

  “Shh.” He held her close and stroked her hair.

  She clung to his body, his strength, and still her pulse raced.

  She heard footsteps. Someone running.

  “Shark,” she rasped, her thoughts hazy with the convoluted dream. “Danger.”

  “No danger,” he said. “I’m here.”

  “Get your hands off of my sister, you bastard, or I’ll cut off your balls.”

  Lulu grimaced. “Sofie?”

  Murphy eased her back against a mountain of feather pillows, glanced over his shoulder. “Gallow warned me about you,” he said, a trace of humor in his voice.

  A light clicked on.

  Lulu blinked to clear her vision. She wasn’t in the ocean or Oz, or even her living room. She was lying in her bed. She must’ve fallen asleep during the movie. She had the fuzzy memory of Murphy carrying her upstairs, of her asking him not to leave. Had he lain down beside her? She couldn’t remember. Just now he was sitting on the edge of the bed looking intrigued, wary, and incredibly handsome with his salt and pepper five-o-clock shadow.

  Sofie stood in the doorway brandishing a pair of sewing shears. She looked mega-watt lethal in her low-cut sweater, form-fitting skirt and spiky heels. Like Jennifer Lopez in that movie where she’d played the kick-butt U.S. Marshal. Only instead of a gun she wielded scissors. And instead of coming to wits and blows with George Clooney, she was facing down … Murphy.

  Lulu’s pulse slowed to a painful drone. They looked beautiful together. “Sofie, put down those scissors before someone gets hurt. This is the man I told you about.”

  Sofie cocked one perfectly tweezed brow. “The bodyguard?”

  Lulu nodded, her head pounding with the effort.

  “Colin Murphy.” He rose slowly and flashed some sort of ID. “Protection Specialist.”

  Weapon still in hand, Sofie squinted at the wallet, then glanced at Lulu. “I was coming in the back door when I heard you scream. I thought … If he wasn’t hurting you, then …” She looked from Lulu to Murphy and back. “Oh.” She lowered the scissors, let out a noisy sigh. “Damn, Lu, I didn’t think you’d actually take my advice. You could have called, warned me.”

  Lulu flushed from head to toe. Surely, Sofie didn’t think … They were fully clothed for cripes sake. “It’s not like that,” she blurted. “I went dancing with Rudy and Jean-Pierre and I got sick. Murphy brought me home.”

  Sofie glided into the room, placed the scissors on the nightstand, and sank down on the bed. She pressed her hand to Lulu’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever, but you are sweating.”

  “She had a nightmare,” Murphy said.

  “That’s why I screamed.” She massaged a weird tightness in her chest. “I think I have the flu.” Or maybe she was lovesick. Every time she looked at Murphy, a herd of elephants tap-danced on her heart.

  Sofie’s hand fell away. “That sucks.”

  Totally. “Don’t worry. Murphy said I’m not contagious.”

  “How does he know?” Sofie smirked over her shoulder. “What, are you trained in medicine too?”

  “Certain aspects.”

  Sofie grunted. “Why didn’t Rudy and JP bring her home?”

  “Because Murphy needs to talk to you,” Lulu said, suddenly wishing they’d both go away. Seeing them together made her feel worse.

  “About what?”

  She realized that her sister was glaring at the man and that the scissors were still within her reach. “About that gift. The one that came today.” She reached out and touched Sofie’s arm. “Stop frowning at him. He’s nice.”

  Murphy made a strange sound and then headed for the door. “I’ll wait downstairs, put on a pot of coffee.” He glanced back at Sofie. “You look like you could use a cup.”

  When he was gone, the sisters locked gazes. “What did he mean by that crack?” Sofie asked.

  “You look upset.”

  “I thought you were being attacked! What do you expect?”

  “No, I mean, your hair’s kind of messy and your eyes are bloodshot.” Even those imperfections couldn’t mar her exotic beauty. Lulu sighed. It wasn’t Sofie’s fault that she’d been blessed with amazing genes. She pushed herself into a sitting position and took a closer look at her frazzled sister. “Have you been crying?”

  “Hell, no.” Sofie tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder and shrugged. “I had a few too many drinks, that’s all.”

  “I hope your friend didn’t take advantage.”

  Sofie rolled her eyes. “I swear you were born in the wrong century.” Then she grinned and nodded toward the door. “You were right. He’s handsome.”

  You noticed. “You were right. He’s ripped.”

  “How do you know? I mean he looks fit, but it’s not like he’s shirtless and wearing a Speedo.”

  “We danced together. Then later we snuggled on the couch and watched The Little Mermaid.”

  Sofie’s lip twitched. “You got a man like that to watch a Disney movie?”

  “He picked it out.”

  “That’s just weird.” She held up a palm. “Wait a minute. You said you went dancing with Rudy and JP. At Ruby Slippers?”

  Lulu nodded.

  “And Colin was there?”

  “He likes to be called Murphy, but yes.” “Ah.”

  “No, ah. He’s not gay. I asked.”

  “Maybe he lied.”

  “I kissed him. Trust me, he’s straight. And if you don’t believe me, there’s Rudy and Jean-Pierre. He flat-lined on their gaydar.”

  “You kissed him?” She whistled. “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be.” Lulu fell back with a groan. “I wasn’t feeling like myself. I think this flu bug made me delirious.”

  “Hmm.” Sofie crossed her arms, cocked her head. “So how do you feel now?”

  “Better. Just tired.” And miserable.

  “No wonder. It’s almost five in the morning.”

  “I can’t believe you stayed out so late.”

  “I can’t believe you kissed a stranger.”

  Lulu’s body tingled in remembrance. Her insides had melted the moment their l
ips had touched. She’d wanted more. Much more. But he’d pulled away. She’d bet her tiara he wouldn’t have pulled away from Sofie. “You told me to do more than that,” she reminded her sister.

  “True.” Sofie blew out a breath. “I thought I wanted you to be more daring, Lu. To sample life and lust, but I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

  “The way you’re talking you’d think you were the older sister.” Lulu turned into her pillow. It had been a long day, a disappointing night, and she just wanted to escape. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

  “Age, as you should know from Viv, is a state of mind. You’re a babe in the woods compared to me.” She reached for the lamp.

  Lulu’s heart fluttered. “Wait.”

  “Oh, right. The nightmare.”

  It was murky now. Something about mer-people and sharks. Probably inspired by the movie she’d fallen asleep watching. Although she couldn’t imagine why it had triggered a nightmare.

  “I’ll leave the light on. It’ll be dawn soon anyhow.” Sofie smoothed a maternal hand over Lulu’s furrowed brow, and then stood. “I’m going down to talk to Murphy. I hope you feel better when you wake up.”

  “Thanks, Sof.” As long as Murphy was gone—out of sight, out of mind, she thought as her eyes drifted shut—she’d feel just fine.

  Sofie clenched and unclenched her fists as she descended the stairs. Breathe deep. In and out, in and out. She tried to center herself, to slow the adrenaline that had surged the moment she’d heard her sister’s scream. Fear and rage had engulfed her when she’d seen a stranger’s hands on Lulu. Assess. Assimilate. If not for the inner voice of her Tae Kwon Do instructor, she would have lunged without warning. She would have stabbed an innocent man.

  Jesus. The things you’d do to defend a loved one.

  She followed her nose to the kitchen. True to his word Murphy had brewed a pot of coffee. Cheeky bastard. Make yourself at home. She grabbed the mug that he handed her and kept walking. She opened the cupboard, reached past the olive oil, baking powder, an unopened five-pound bag of flour, and grabbed Viv’s secret stash. She poured whiskey into her coffee and drank deeply.

  “Sorry for the scare.”

  Sofie turned and glared at the stern-faced bodyguard. She wasn’t too fond of him just now. These days men in general were scum.

  She’d lied to Lulu. She wasn’t drunk. She could hold her liquor better than most. She’d spent the night crying on Anthony Rivelli’s shoulder. Crying over Chaz. Instead of ending their platonic date after drinks as planned, Anthony had driven her back to his apartment so they could talk at length. This was the second time since they’d met that he’d shirked his business responsibilities to rescue her from a meltdown. It helped that he was going through a similar crisis. He too was hung up on someone who wasn’t good for him. Difference was hedidn’t cry at the drop of a hat. Feeling like a total loser, she poured another shot into her coffee before replacing the bottle on the back of the shelf.

  Murphy said nothing.

  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” She was used to men staring. But this was different. She didn’t get a sexual vibe off Murphy. Nope. She felt scrutinized. Worse.

  “I was just thinking that you and your sister don’t look anything alike. There’s a similarity about the eyes. Other than that—”

  “Same father, different mothers.” She cocked a hip against the counter, took another sip of her spiked coffee, welcoming the stiff burn. “So what’s going on? What are you doing here?”

  He reached behind him and then set a silver seashell on the counter in front of her.

  “The infamous gift?”

  “Open it.”

  She did. A pearl thong. Dread rippled through her as she studied the naughty lingerie. “So?”

  “It was addressed to Girl of My Dreams. Lulu thinks it’s for you. Thinks it’s from your agent.”

  “Exagent.” Though she schooled her expression, her body hummed with betrayal. She’d been seduced by a handsome face, the “L” word, and the promise of success. She and about ten other actresses on Chaz Bradley’s roster. She shrugged off a bout of self-disgust. One of these days she was going to learn not to mix pleasure with business. She dropped the thong back in the shell and snapped shut the lid. “It’s not from Chaz. He would’ve signed his name.” Would’ve wanted her thinking about the great sex she was missing. What she missed was what she thought she had. A grip on her future.

  Murphy cleared his throat. “Lulu mentioned that there’ve been quite a few gifts lately.”

  She nodded. “Flowers. Chocolates. Perfume.”

  “All from Chaz?”

  “Some from Chaz. Our relationship … our business relationship,” she clarified when he raised a brow, “ended badly.”

  “The other gifts?”

  She shrugged. “I assumed they were from some of the men that I’ve met at the Carnevale. High rollers. Executives. Some of them are very persistent.”

  “You’re a striking woman.”

  She braced herself for a come-on, marveled that it had taken him this long to turn this into something sexual, but instead he topped off his coffee, and leveled her with a look that was all business. “I think this particular gift was intended for your sister.”

  She tightened her grip on her cup as she rode out another ripple of dread. “People give Lulu teddy bears and homemade cookies, not pearl thongs.”

  “I’m going to be straight with you, Sofia, because I think you can handle it.”

  Her pulse hammered. “I can.”

  “And I might need some help.”

  “If it has to do with Lulu, I’m there.”

  He sipped his coffee, gazing over the brim at her, dark eyes intense. “I’m acting on a tip from a trusted source. Your sister’s in danger. Seems she’s picked up an admirer.”

  “What, like a stalker?”

  He nodded.

  Deranged fan obsessed with local celebrity. A scenario ripped out of any one of a dozen bad movies. Her stomach clenched. “I knew it.” She set down her coffee cup, shoved her bothersome hair off her face with a weary groan. “I’ve warned Lulu to keep those oddballs at arm’s length, but she’s polite to everyone, including the watchers. Claims they’re not weird, just eccentric. Trust me. They’re weird.”

  Murphy angled his head. “The watchers?”

  “Devoted fans of the casinos’ free entertainment—strolling entertainers and lounge bands. People, primarily men, who show up regularly. The lurkers. The leerers. The guys who hover on the fringes and ogle the female performers.” She twisted her lips in disgust. “So which one is it? Maurice? Sam? The Clapper? Wait. It has to be Photo-Boy. Sometimes I wonder if he’s even got film in that camera.”

  “Hold up.” Clearly intrigued, Murphy abandoned his coffee and folded his arms over his chest. “Sam? As in Sam Marlin?”

  She nodded. “Not as creepy as Photo-Boy, but definitely a watcher. As bad luck would have it, he also lives in the neighborhood. Lulu mentioned him?”

  “I met him.” Murphy glanced at the seashell. “He hand delivered the package. Said it came to his house by mistake.”

  “Yeah. That’s been happening a lot lately.” Sofie winced. “I guess Sam was in a mood then.”

  “You could say that.”

  “He doesn’t like the idea of other men horning in on his women.” She snorted. “The man’s deluded.”

  “I wasn’t aware that he’s hot for Lulu,” Murphy said. “I thought he liked you.”

  “He’s hot for anything in fishnet stockings. Although I think I’m the only performer at the Carnevale that he’s actually asked out on a date.” She smirked. “Lucky me.”

  Murphy dipped his chin in thought. “When Lulu appears at the Carnevale, does she use the name Princess Charming?”

  “No. That’s her storybook persona for Lulu’s Loonytales. She transforms into the Princess for children’s parties. At the casino she’s Gemma the Juggler.” She frowned. “Why?” />
  He glanced up. “According to my source, quote, The Princess is in danger. Unquote.”

  “So Sam was at one of Lulu’s parties?”

  “I’m not convinced that we’re talking about Sam.”

  “I don’t know what’s more upsetting. The possibility that a sicko was at a children’s party, or that said sicko is stalking my sister.” Sofie wanted to laugh off this entire conversation, but Murphy’s professional demeanor, his aura of grim authenticity, had her swallowing the scenario in one sobering gulp. “I could use some specifics here, Murphy.”

  “So could I. Unfortunately, I’m working with what I have.”

  She moistened her lips. “Which is?”

  “The tip. The gift. The mermaid costume hanging in Lulu’s closet.”

  Mermaid. Seashells. Pearls. Although she didn’t want to, she easily followed his thinking. “Go on.”

  He flipped over the seashell and turned the crank. Music tinkled. A lively Caribbean song. A tune from The Little Mermaid, one of Lu’s favorite movies. Sofie massaged her temple. “She did a mermaid gig yesterday morning.” Damn. “What else?”

  “I don’t think she has the flu. I think she was drugged at the club. My money’s on Ecstasy. I think her admirer planned on taking advantage.”

  “But you were there.”

  “I was there.”

  Her knees wobbled, but she’d be damned if she’d show weakness. Someone had to champion Lulu, and Viv wasn’t here. Terry … he wasn’t here either, the bastard. “Ecstasy. Jesus. No wonder she came onto you.”

  “She told you about that?”

  “She told me she kissed you.” She frowned. “Anything else I should know?”

  “I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of vulnerable women.”

  “Then you are a rare man indeed.”

  He grinned. “You’re a cynical one.”

  She shrugged. “Call ‘em as I see ‘em.”

  “Your sister on the other hand …”

  “Thinks you’re nice.”

  He shifted, eyed his mug. Obviously, he was uncomfortable with that description. Probably liked to think of himself as big, bad, and deadly. He was after all in the business of protection and intimidation.