Bonded by Blood

by Laurie London

  After yesterday’s impetuous decision to have dinner with Dom, she wasn’t sure whether to kick herself for being swept away by his charm or congratulate herself for following Martin’s advice to live in the moment. Either way, she was nervous standing here, wondering what was in store for her on the other side of the door.

  Could she do it? Have sex with someone she hardly knew? Of course, she could be wrong. It was entirely possible that he intended only to cook dinner for her. But she wasn’t a total fool. As she’d lain in bed last night, trying without much success to fall asleep, she’d decided she had to expect it could come to that. Dinner at a restaurant would be one thing, but dinner at his place was a whole different scenario.

  Shifting the bottle of wine to her other hand, she checked her bag, making sure her overnight items were tucked safely at the bottom. Not sure if it was customary to spend the night after a one-night stand, she’d brought a few things just in case. And if nothing happened, well, at least she’d come prepared.

  She straightened her spine and rang the bell.

  Mackenzie thought she was prepared to see Dom this time. She willed herself to be strong, calm and focused. They were just two people who were going to have dinner together. But she forgot all that when the door swung open.

  Barefoot, with an untucked shirt and jeans, Dom stood casually enough in the doorway, a dish towel tossed carelessly over a shoulder and his hair pulled loosely into a ponytail, but his unpolished attire only heightened his unorchestrated sexuality.

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think of a thing to say; her eyes seemed to be the only body part functioning.

  He wore a stack of black leather bracelets on one wrist, with those ornately carved rings she’d noticed before on each thumb, and when he reached for her to invite her in, her mouth felt as if it had been swabbed with a giant ball of cotton. The only way he could look any better was if he were naked and her hands were exploring his body. A rush of heat rose to her face and she averted her gaze for a moment in an attempt to collect herself.

  “Welcome back.” He dipped his head, touching his lips to her cheek, then shut the door behind her.

  Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the warm scent of his cologne. She felt her body arch toward him, wanting the smell to stay as concentrated as possible in her lungs. Normally she didn’t care for a man’s potent aftershave but his was heavenly, almost addictive. She thrust the wine bottle into his hands.

  “Thank you.” His eyes raked her up and down then crinkled at the corners. “You look great. We’re a matched pair.”

  She glanced at her lacy brown cardigan and smoothed down the fabric of her colorful dress. It coordinated perfectly with his chocolate brown shirt. She liked the way that sounded—a matched pair—and smiled up at him. “Thanks. We must be on the same wavelength tonight.”

  “Yes, there does seem to be an uncanny connection between us.” He paused and a shiver of excitement prickled her skin. “How was parking? I hope you used my building valet.”

  “I…uh…had to take a cab. It’s raining and I didn’t want to drive the motorcycle.”

  “Do you not own a sedan? Is the Triumph your only mode of transportation?”

  “It is right now. My mother’s car is in the repair shop.” She liked that he referred to her— “How did you know I drive a Triumph?”

  Something flashed across his expression then was gone.

  “Bonneville. I saw it parked outside the art school and assumed it was yours. A woman like you on a Bonnie is hard to forget.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she smiled and looked around as he ushered her inside. Her gaze fell to an ethereal blown-glass sculpture, lit from above, displayed magnificently on a wooden stand near the windows. How could she have missed that vibrant yellow color and the unmistakable fluted shape when she was here last week?

  “Oh my God. Is that a Chihuly? Is it new? I’d have noticed it before.” Without waiting for him, she walked through the living room and stopped a few feet away.

  “His work is unmistakable, isn’t it?” he said, approaching from behind. “No, it’s not new. I purchased the piece almost five years ago, right after I moved to Seattle. It was in my office, but I moved it here because I thought you’d enjoy seeing it. You can get closer to it. It won’t bite, I promise.”

  She laughed. “Trust me. Breakables and I don’t mix. This is as close as I get.”

  “Well, then sit here and admire it while I finish a few things in the kitchen. Can I get you a glass of wine? Red or white?”

  “White, but let me help. I’m not much of a cook, but I can chop, stir, whisk and I’m pretty good at tasting.”

  “Good. I need help with all of the above.”

  He touched the small of her back, guiding her to an upholstered bar stool at the kitchen counter. Even through her clothing, his hand felt heavy and warm.

  He grabbed a bottle of wine and with a few twists, it was uncorked, two glasses were filled and he was offering one to her. A small cutting board with an onion and a knife sat just out of reach on the counter.

  “Can you slide that over? Do you want it chopped in little pieces or in slices?”

  A strange expression flashed across his face before he smiled. “No knives for you. Is peeling in your repertoire? You can peel a few carrots, if you’d like.”

  “Funny you should ask, because I happen to be an expert.”

  He handed her a vegetable peeler, several carrots, and a bowl for scraps. With his fingers tucked under like a professional chef, he began to chop the onion with the speed and precision of someone who did it for a living.

  “How long have you worked as a location scout? How did you get the job?”

  “I’ve been working on and off for Steve about six years now. He and my father were friends. After my father…” She cleared her throat and started peeling. “When he died, my mother eventually moved us up here and he hired me part-time because he knew I liked photography.”

  “Your father—how long has he been gone?”

  “He passed away when I was a kid.”

  “So it’s just you and your mother?”

  “And my brother, Corey.”

  He retrieved a sauté pan from a lower cabinet, drizzled in some oil and set it on a burner. “Does he work for your father’s friend as well?”

  “No, just me. Corey’s in college and it’s probably best if he doesn’t have to concentrate on a job till school’s over.”

  “You’ve been working as a location scout for several years, then. You must enjoy it.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I get to see lots of beautiful places I might not otherwise have seen.”

  He raised an eyebrow and leveled her with a serious look. “You don’t say that with much conviction. Would you rather be doing something else?”

  She smiled at his perception. “No, I do enjoy it. The photography part, but I’m always keeping my options open.”

  “And the art school?”

  “Love it.” She finished her wine and started peeling another carrot. She considered telling him what really made her excited. What she really wanted to do. But then, what would be the point if she didn’t see him after tonight?

  “What did you get your degree in?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “But you said you knew Martin through university.”

  He remembered all that from the—?

  Damn.

  The vegetable peeler slipped, slicing her forefinger instead of the carrot. She hissed a breath through her teeth as a small bead of blood welled up and dripped onto the counter. Dom was there almost before the stinging pain registered in her brain, grabbing her hand and cupping it gently in his. A strange tingling sensation moved up her arm. The cut wasn’t deep enough to be numb, was it?

  “Are you all right?” Another drop of blood trickled from her finger, but onto his hand this time.

  She pulled away quickly. “Oh God, I’m sorry. Do you have a paper towel or somethin
g? Here, let me clean this up.”

  Ignoring her request, he grasped her elbow and swept her around the island to the kitchen faucet. His arms went around her, his muscular biceps encasing her, and he pushed her hand under the stream of water. Every inch of her back, from her shoulders to her buttocks, was pressed to the muscular plane of his warm torso and she felt his warm breath in her hair.

  “Hold your finger under the cold water. Yes, like that. I’ll get a bandage from—”

  “No, really. I’m fine.” She put her finger in her mouth and cranked her head up to look at him. In this light, the blue of his eyes looked a little darker. “See? It’s no big deal.” But when she pulled it out, the blood oozed again.

  In less than a heartbeat, he sucked her finger between his lips, and the breath stalled in her throat. Oh my Lord. His mouth was hot and when his tongue slid against the pad of her finger, she shivered, a delicious heat pooling low in her belly. Teeth grazed against—

  Suddenly he pulled away from her and strode out of the kitchen. “It needs a bandage,” he called gruffly over his shoulder, his steps heavy on the wood floor as if he were eager to get away.

  Out of breath, she held her hand to her chest, her finger still moist from his mouth. She heard a door slam shut somewhere down the hallway. Leaning against the counter, she closed her eyes. What just happened?

  “Better?”

  She jumped, hadn’t heard him return. “Um, yeah. It doesn’t sting any longer and it’s…a…a… I can’t even see it.”

  “Let me put a bandage on it just to be safe.” He took her back to her seat and a piece of damp hair hung in his face as he concentrated on her finger. Sweat? She looked at him more closely. No, she didn’t think so. Water, maybe.

  “So where were we?” He returned to the other side of the island, refilled her wineglass, and began sautéing the onions. “Oh yes, you were just about to tell me why you didn’t get your degree.”

  It took her a few moments to collect her thoughts. Her need to keep things shallow and less emotional didn’t seem to be as important as it usually was.

  “My mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s when I was in college and she had to be moved into a special facility. I quit school to care for my brother, who was still in high school, and because the money earmarked for college was needed for Mom now.”

  “How was there money for him to go to college and not you?”

  Okay, he’s much too perceptive. She wasn’t ready for this. But how would he understand? How could anyone really understand? She let out a long slow breath and stared into her glass. Holding it by the stem, she tilted it slightly and watched as the wine clung to the inside, seeping back down in narrow rivulets. “It’s sort of complicated and a really long story.”

  “I’m in no hurry.”

  “It probably won’t make sense to you.”

  “I’m also fairly intelligent. Sorry if you hadn’t noticed.” One side of his mouth turned up as if to encourage her.

  “Well, then you really won’t understand. All the academic types think it’s nonsense.”

  “I didn’t say I was an academic type.”

  She shuffled through her thoughts, a little muddled from the wine, searching for that little nugget to satisfy his curiosity in order for them to move on to something else. Anything else. This just wasn’t the topic of conversation for a first date. And way too deep for a one-nighter.

  She took a bigger sip this time. The wine warmed the back of her tongue and slid down her throat. “My family—” oh, what the hell “—I told you my father died, right? Well, he went out one evening and never came back. I was ten years old at the time.”

  “He ran out on you?” Dom looked up from the stove.

  “No. That’s what everyone thinks, including the police. But they found his wallet, his car, his credit cards, his money. The only thing missing was his driver’s license. He just disappeared that day. Never came home.”

  Dom was quiet for a moment, probably wishing he’d never asked about all this in the first place. It made most people uncomfortable. She knew that. That’s why she hardly ever spoke about it. So why were they talking about it now?

  “How long have you—” She tried to change the subject, to save him the trouble, but he interrupted with more questions.

  “So what does that have to do with you having to quit school when there’s money for your brother to attend?”

  “That’s where it gets really complicated. Why don’t we talk about something simple and non-depressing, like what you’re fixing for dinner.”

  “Salmon. Now please continue. I’d like to hear more.”

  He reached a hand out and touched hers. His eyes, though piercing, had a kindness behind them, prompting her to say more than she might have otherwise.

  “My father’s disappearance is just one of many in my family. It’s happened in each generation for as long as we’ve been keeping track…hundreds of years. My cousin was the latest to disappear last year.”

  “What do you think is going on?” He returned to the stove, his voice stilted, almost robotic. Way too much information. She needed to back it down.

  “I don’t know.” She studied his profile and watched as his jaw muscle flexed over and over, as if he were chewing on his thoughts, and he twisted one of his thumb rings with a forefinger. Why had she felt compelled to tell him? He was clearly uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry. I should never have shared all this with you. Maybe I should just—”

  “No.” He said it with such force that it jerked her head up. “I really want to know more. You think your father’s fate awaits you, don’t you? And that’s why you really quit school.”

  Oh God. He got it. He really understood.

  He gave her the kind of smile that made her ache inside. “I…I suppose so. Why waste the money? College represents the future, so with Mom’s illness and Stacy going missing, I decided to stop fooling myself and get realistic. I know that must sound terribly pessimistic to you.”

  “Not at all. You’re just living the best way you know how within the framework you were given. But your brother obviously doesn’t feel the same way.”

  “My brother? Corey is one of those people who doesn’t worry about much. All the weed, I guess.”

  “Maybe he smokes to drown out the worry.”

  “Could be.”

  “And your mother. She’s been through a lot, too, hasn’t she?”

  “Yeah, she sure has. My whole life she’s been a worrier. She let her guard down, thinking my father had escaped the curse when he reached his forties, and finally agreed to his job transfer to San Diego. Six months later he disappeared.”

  “And your mother determined it was the move to the big city, right?” His voice was faraway, distant.

  It was like they really were on the same wavelength or something.

  He stared out over her shoulder, his eyes dark and unfocused now, and a spot at the base of his jaw pulsed. A strange rush of heat, starting at her toes, ran up the length of her body.

  She felt as if she wanted to punch something. She was pissed off. No. More than that. It was fury she was feeling.

  What the hell? And then just as quickly, the feeling faded away.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Got complacent, my mother said. She took paranoia to the nth degree after that because she worried that the same thing could happen to Corey or me. We moved around to many small towns in Washington and Oregon. We were in the Seattle area when Mom got her diagnosis, so we decided to settle here.”

  He assembled everything on a large wooden tray, then reached for her hand. “How’s your finger? Let me see it.”

  “It’s fine.” She kept it in her lap. “Did you know I don’t like it when people fuss over me?”

  “Yes, I assumed that.”

  “So why all the fuss?”

  He stared at her, unblinking. “When you are here, I take care of you.”

  To be taken care of by anyone was such a foreign c
oncept. “I don’t need anyone’s help doing anything, you know, but I appreciate the concern.” The words came out quiet and half-hearted even though it had been her motto for as long as she could remember. The ache beneath her ribs widened. Being here with Dom overemphasized what she’d never have in her life.

  Enough.

  She flipped that familiar mental switch and smiled. “I know you can’t say much, but whereabouts are your offices in Canada located? You said British Columbia. Vancouver? Victoria?”

  Not answering right away, he sprinkled some nuts into a skillet and flicked them into the air with a turn of his wrist. Yeah, he was the kind of cook who liked an audience. And she was the kind of person who loved to watch. After drizzling some olive oil into a shallow wooden salad bowl, he poured in a small amount of dark liquid from a small bottle with foreign writing and began to whisk the contents together.

  “Our region headquarters are in the Horseshoe Bay area. Do you know where that is?”

  Her hands flew to her throat. Did she know where that was? “Oh my God, yes. On the way to Whistler Mountain, right? The Ski-to-Sky Highway? Wait. Sky-to-Ski.”

  “It’s the Sea-to-Sky Highway from Vancouver to Whistler, winding along Horseshoe Bay and Howe Sound.”

  “That drive is breathtaking.”

  “So you’ve been there?”

  “A few times. But it’s been ages. It’s one of those places that’s so stunning—” she put a hand over her heart “—so moving, you have to pinch yourself to believe that it’s real. That your eyes are actually taking in something so incredible.”

  When she looked up, he had set the bowl down and was staring at her. Oh, great. Why was she always doing this around him? Giving him a dramatic play-by-play of how she saw things. He had to think she was much too emotional. Too sensitive. What was it about him that loosened the tight strings holding her together? Normally, she had better control than this.

  “Sorry, I’m not usually this expressive.”

  When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Never be ashamed of your emotions around me. I’ll have to take you up there sometime. I know of places you’ve probably never seen before.”