“What is it you have against handsome men?”
“Can’t trust ’em. With a homely man, now—what you see is what you get. Warts, scars, broken teeth and all.”
“Ah.”
“A man with a face like yours could be hiding anything.” She sipped some ale and licked the foam from her lips. “A face and a body like yours…pure deception.”
“I see.”
“Plus I’ve always thought ugly men to be just a little more manly.”
She could see, by the way his gaze kindled, he didn’t like that. “You saying I’m not manly?”
“No, not that. I could never say that, Officer Brendan. That’s not true of you.” He had to be one of the most masculine men she’d ever met; it came off him in waves and prompted all sorts of sinful thoughts in her mind.
“I’m not sure what to make of you, Miss Landry.”
“Don’t call me that. Especially not here—the name has evil connotations.”
“So it does. Virginia, then.”
“Not that, either.” She wrinkled her nose. “My mother gave me that name—one of the few things she ever gave me besides life. But it’s woefully inappropriate. Can I confide in you, Officer Brendan?”
“If you must.”
“I must. I truly feel I must. The name Virginia is so…virginal. And I haven’t been that since I was sixteen.”
Did he look shocked? Hard to tell; he had a good poker face.
“Well, now, your secret’s safe with me. Finish your drink, and we’ll get you home.”
“So soon?”
“I want to get you away out of here without any trouble.”
“We haven’t finished our discussion. Will you call me ‘Ginny’?”
“Would you like me to?”
“I really think you should.”
“Ginny,” he said, and the way it sounded on his tongue—all warm and honeyed—made the heat flare inside her.
They stared into one another’s eyes. “You sure you can handle me, Officer Brendan?”
“Utterly sure.”
“Let’s find out.” She hooked a hand behind his neck and drew his mouth down to hers.
Chapter Thirteen
Holy mother of God.
The words stuttered through Brendan’s mind as he fell into a pit of fire, darkness, and flaring heat. He considered himself by and large a practical man, his wild streak well disciplined. But now desire tore through him, so hot it instantaneously threatened to dissolve his control.
He’d kissed a lot of women but never one like Ginny Landry. Her soft lips molded to his, wooed, and seduced them apart. Her tongue, a daring thing, speared into him; her flavor, potent as whiskey, went straight to his head.
Dangerous? She was far beyond that.
And he didn’t care. She’d come looking for a man, so she said. Sure and she’d found one.
His heart pounded in his ears as they strained together across the grubby table. When his brain went on sabbatical for lack of air, she finally let him go. Not far—just so she could look into his eyes.
“Oh. My. God.”
Did the words, spoken aloud this time, come from her or from him? Her, he thought. He gazed into her eyes—deep brown and dancing with light. Mischief and desire enough to start him breathing again.
“Let’s get out of here,” he told her.
“Yes.”
They arose from the table as one. She gravitated to him the way iron flew to a magnet, coming hard up against his side and wrapping one arm around his waist. Her head at his shoulder, he guided her out into the night.
“Now, then, let’s try that again.” He backed her up against the building, just as any tramp might a doxy, eager to explore this thing between them. Deep, unplumbed, erotic—he’d never felt anything like it.
Much better without the table between. She pushed right up against him, snaked her arms around his neck, and rubbed hard.
A woman who knew what she wanted was Ginny Landry. She wanted him—despite the fact that he wasn’t ugly.
He dove into her, searched the hot depths of her mouth, and set his hands to roving. Strength lay beneath her dress, lurked in her slender back, and flexed in her buttocks. Strength and softness—a beguiling combination. He bet she’d be a tiger between the sheets.
“There, now.” He ended the kiss with reluctance. “Still think I’m not up to handling you?”
“Um.” Her mouth reached for his again. He held her off.
“Not so fast.” With an effort, he resisted. “You’re drunk.”
“I was drunk. Not anymore.”
“Eh?”
“Whatever this is between us has sobered me.” She licked her lips again, and he felt it all the way down his body. “What is this between us?”
“Lust?”
“I’ve felt lust before. Not like this.”
She was right. This was unexpected, unwelcome. Undeniable.
A boisterous group exited the tavern, nearly jostling them aside.
“Come on,” he said.
They ran, her hand in his, off into the dark. As the noise and brightness faded away behind them, wildness gripped his heart. The dual pounding of their feet echoed, and she kept up with him till they reached a street corner, where she paused, laughing.
“What?” he asked.
“This is fun.”
She moved once more into his arms. This time he buried his hands in her hair while he kissed her. It came loose in his fingers and streamed down her back.
“Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous,” he gasped.
“So, unfortunately, are you.”
“It’s dark here. Maybe you can overlook it.”
“Take me home. I’ll leave the light off in my room.”
“You sure?” He tried to fight back the waves of heat and think clearly. “That’s a thing that can’t be undone.”
“I’d like to undo you. Right out of those clothes.”
Out of his mind, no doubt.
She ran her hands down his body, over his stomach, and lower to cup him through his trousers. “Can’t deny you’re ready.”
“I won’t deny it. And you?”
Only a few buttons on her bodice separated him from warm flesh. He conquered them with shaking fingers and thrust his hand inside. He could feel her heart hammering through her breast as she pebbled against his palm.
Her breath hitched. “Hurry or I’m going to climb you right here on the street.”
“That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.”
They ran again, still hand in hand. Good thing he knew the city so well, because all his logic and control had flown away. On some level, his sense of direction still operated.
He hoped they didn’t meet a policeman. How embarrassing would that be, she with her bodice flapping open and him so hard he could barely run.
They turned onto Linwood Avenue and stumbled to an immediate halt. Ginny Landry swore. “My house!”
Brendan took in the scene with professional eyes. A crowd of onlookers. The police he’d hoped to duck. A fire wagon and several lost-looking steamies on the sidewalk.
Ginny drew her fingers from his and flew forward. He followed, assessing the damage.
Not as bad as it might be. The flames had been extinguished, and only a lazy plume of smoke arose from the rear of the house. Looked like a lucky escape.
But Ginny might have been inside.
Heart thumping, he joined her where she’d engaged the police officers, both of whom looked at him, startled.
“Brendan.”
“Harry, Stan. What goes on here?”
“Arson,” Harry announced grimly. “Neighbors called it in pretty quick. There’s not a lot of damage.”
“Is everyone all right?” Ginny touched one of the steam units on the arm. “Millie? No one hurt?”
Hurt? Or damaged? Brendan wondered.
“We are all right, miss. Gus was singed while attempting to put out the fire.”
“Gus?” G
inny called. “Where are you?”
A blackened unit trundled forward; Brendan almost thought Ginny would embrace it. It made no reply to her as she fussed over its damaged finish.
He stepped forward. “That will wipe right off, sure.” He demonstrated using the sleeve of his shirt. “See?”
“That’s good. How valiant you were, Gus! How courageous.”
One of the firemen approached. “All the damage was confined to the rear entryway. Some smoke in the kitchen, but that’s it.”
“Thank you,” Ginny told him. “Thank you all.”
She certainly seemed sober now—every bit of it. Almost like a different woman.
“Miss Landry, we’re just about finished here,” Harry told her. “Just let me take a statement from you as to your whereabouts.” He glanced a bit doubtfully at Brendan. “Then we’ll be on our way.”
“Very well. Will you come in?”
Brendan laid a hand on her arm and addressed one of the firemen. “You sure it’s safe inside?”
“It is now.”
Ginny led the police officers in through the front door, and Brendan followed, trailed by all four steamies. The interior of the house smelled heavily of smoke.
A close call and no mistake. What if Ginny Landry hadn’t decided to go out on the town?
The steamies bustled about, the one Ginny had called Millie trundling off to the kitchen. The officers finished their business, nodded at Brendan, and left.
“Oh, hell,” Ginny said. She turned troubled and very sober eyes on Brendan. “Somebody wants me out of here.”
“It would seem so.”
“And that makes me feel stubborn, all the more determined to stay.”
Why didn’t that surprise him? “Well, now, there’s no sense taking foolish chances.”
“I’m in a pickle. I need to make some decisions about my mother’s property before I leave the city. That’s why I went out tonight. I needed time to think and figure out what to do before I’m away for good.”
Away for good. A sick feeling settled in Brendan’s gut.
“Want to tell me? I’ve a decent head on my shoulders. Maybe I can help.”
She began to pace the room. “I’ve had an offer for my mother’s interest in a hospital down on Ellicott Street. From the Automaton Liberation League.”
“I see.”
“On one hand, I don’t want to keep anything my mother touched. Except maybe this house. Why’d they have to hit the house?”
“Because it was easy. And threatening. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
“I could have lost my steamies. They’re so—so innocent. So well meaning. They don’t deserve to be harmed on my account.”
“On your mother’s account,” he corrected softly. “Very little of this is to do with you.”
“Yet if I fail to make the right decisions, the city will go up like a tinderbox.”
“Well, you don’t have to make any decisions at this very minute.” He went to her, caught her shoulders between his hands, and halted her pacing. “Listen, if you’re afraid to stay here tonight, you’re welcome to come back to mine.”
“Afraid? Me?” A smile crooked one corner of her mouth.
“Perhaps I misspoke.”
“Your place, eh?” Heat flooded her gaze. “Tempting.”
“Well, then.”
“Officer Brendan, I’d still like nothing better than to get you out of those clothes and then lick you—slowly—up one side and down the other. It’s going to happen. But I’m afraid it won’t be tonight.”
Brendan struggled to hide his disappointment. “Why?”
“How can I leave the steamies here alone?”
He ran his fingers up her spine. “Let me stay here then.” Rarely did he ask; rarely did he need to.
“Not too discreet, is it? Everyone’s seen you here.”
Damn.
“I’ll feel uneasy leaving you here on your own.”
“Not to worry. I have my steam cannon.”
“Thank God.”
She pressed close against him for the third time that night, tipped up her face, and engaged his eyes. “If we say our goodbyes, that means I get to kiss you good night.” Her lips, warm and alive, claimed his. The last shreds of his sanity flew away. How long the kiss lasted he never later knew. It seemed like forever. And not long enough.
“When?” he asked her raggedly—all he could manage.
“Soon. It better be soon.”
“Fine, that. I’ll find a potato sack.”
She looked askance.
“To wear over me face.”
Chapter Fourteen
“This is Lily Michaels. Lily, this is the lady of whom I spoke to you—Dr. Landry’s daughter.”
Ginny shuddered inwardly. How she hated that label! She gazed, fascinated, at the woman who stood before her, who looked like precisely that—a woman.
Indeed, no signs indicated she might instead be a hybrid automaton. Almost too beautiful, she had a wealth of golden hair and stood a few inches beneath Ginny’s height. A complexion of ivory and roses, ice-blue eyes, and a form both well-curved and slender in all the right places completed the picture.
Lily offered her hand. Her skin felt cool and dry, not unpleasant.
“Mrs. Michaels,” Ginny said. “It is ‘Mrs.,’ isn’t it? Mr. Ballister did say…” Ginny’s gaze moved to the man who hovered at Lily’s back. Big, broad, and in his mid-twenties, he had brown hair and worried brown eyes.
Lily turned. “Yes, Miss Landry. This is my husband, Rey.” She smiled charmingly. “I do love that word—‘husband.’ ”
The man placed his hand on Lily’s shoulder and said, “I didn’t like the idea of Lily coming to meet you on her own. I wouldn’t like her upset.” He had a deep, gravelly voice. Ginny wondered if he’d be a nasty customer in a brawl.
“Nor would I,” she said as graciously as possible. “Mrs. Michaels, I’m grateful you agreed to see me. I hoped we might have an opportunity to become acquainted.”
“All right, but I’m staying,” Michaels said.
“Of course. You’re very welcome to stay.”
Michaels relaxed marginally, and Ginny’s curiosity flared. What made a man fall in love with an automaton? She saw how beautiful Lily was, but it took much more, surely, than that.
“I reserved you a table here in the corner,” Ballister said, leading them farther into the tearoom where he’d arranged the meeting. “Miss Landry, would you like me to join your discussion? If not, I do have other business.”
“No, Mr. Ballister, that’s fine.” She glanced around the tearoom; no one seemed to pay the least bit of attention to them. “Thank you.”
Ballister smiled, nodded, and took off. Ginny indicated their table. “Shall we sit?”
They did so, Lily moving with grace that outshone her plain ivory cotton dress. The waitress came to their table, and Ginny ordered tea for three before she caught herself.
“I’m sorry," she said as soon as the waitress walked away. “Mrs. Michaels, can you drink tea?”
“No, nor eat any food. Fortunately, Rey eats enough for two. Do you not, my love?”
Michaels gave her a look of pure adoration.
Ginny cleared her throat. “I wanted to meet one of my mother’s…well, her creations.”
“You were curious.” Lily stated it calmly.
“Well, yes, I can’t deny I was. But I’m also attempting to make decisions about the disposal of her estate. She seemed to have her fingers into many things.”
“Like an octopus,” Michaels grumbled.
“Yes. I hoped you might be able to help me clarify a few things in my mind.”
“Me?” Lily spread fragile-looking hands. “I’m just an ordinary automaton going about her life.”
The statement set Ginny back on her heels, robbing her of speech.
“I am very sorry for the loss of your mother,�
�� Lily went on. “No matter what she was to me, she was your mother.”
“Would you mind telling me your opinion of her?” Ginny asked, wondering if a hybrid automaton was actually capable of forming an opinion.
A slight shudder shook Lily’s body. For an instant her face and eyes went blank. Michaels put his arm around her. Very carefully she said, “Dr. Landry, as you have noted, was my creator. As such, I must be grateful to her. Had she not fashioned me, I would not be here and would never have met Rey.”
Ginny looked at Michaels again, a question. He returned a defiant glare.
Ginny drew a breath. “I don’t blame you for feeling hostile. Mr. Ballister told me some of what happened—not all. Please know I am not my mother. I never knew her. My father and she parted ways when I was very young. I went with him when he moved out west.”
“Why?” Lily’s innocent gaze robbed the question of any nosiness.
“Why did he choose to move away? I think it was in an effort to distance himself from her. But he always wished for adventure. I’ve a measure of that urge inside me also.”
“I meant why did they part ways? Why would she allow herself to be parted from her child?”
“I know only what my father told me. He says he realized almost immediately they shouldn’t have married. She never wanted to be a mother. From what I can gather, she was obsessed with the notion of virginity and detested the sex act.”
Mr. and Mrs. Michaels exchanged a look. “Well, then,” Michaels huffed.
Lily folded her hands on the table. “Miss Landry…”
“Call me Ginny, please.”
“Ginny, I am the only surviving member of Landry’s Ladies who did not participate in your mother’s murder. Perhaps that is why Mr. Ballister chose to introduce you to me. It might be uncomfortable for everyone involved, introducing a woman to her mother’s killer.”
“You…did not participate? May I ask why?”
“I was in a coffin at the time. The coffin was in a grave. Rey buried me in order to protect me.”
“I see,” Ginny lied. Things became muddier the more she spoke with Lily Michaels. It was impossible to fathom this warm, charming woman wasn’t in fact a woman.
She decided her mother truly had been a genius—if one conspicuously lacking in heart.
“Ginny, before coming to Buffalo, were you aware of the manner of your mother’s death?”
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