by Ann Yost
The stainless steel appliances gleamed in the sunlight and the floor, a rich terra cotta tile, glowed.
“Classy,” Daisy murmured. “Arthur’s got great taste.”
She opened the refrigerator door.
“You hungry?”
“The food might give us a hint about what he uses this place for and how often.” She surveyed the contents. “I’d say not very. Nothing here but champagne and brie. That seems a little romantic for a man like Arthur Sneed.”
Nick said nothing and they stepped into a short hallway that led to a set of eight stairs. The second floor consisted of a large square room furnished with a few pieces of sleek, light oak furniture and flooded with light. Daisy realized the house, for all its stark, wooden façade included a full complement of floor-to-ceiling windows.
“The man likes light,” Daisy murmured. “But what on earth does he do here? There are no books or magazines, no television, no clutter of any kind. No computer.”
“And no evidence.”
“Maybe it’s on the third floor.”
He paused to peer into her face. “If you’re such an optimist you ought to be able to take a chance on me.”
I could if you loved me.
She kept her mouth shut and smiled.
They crossed to another staircase, this one narrower than the first. Nick preceded her up the steps and his big body blocked her view. She stepped into the room and color exploded all around her.
Stained glass panels hung from the windows that covered each of the four walls. Brilliant, blinding reds and greens, yellows and blues flooded the room and mingled to become purple and pink and orange.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. She grabbed his arm for balance. “I feel like I’m inside a kaleidoscope.”
When she finally focused on the furnishings she realized the room was filled with a huge round bed covered with a leopard-skin spread. An enormous flat television screen hung from metal hooks overhead as did an odd, unwieldy canvas apparatus.
“Holy shit,” Nick whispered. He stepped to the wall and touched a button. An Amazon curled on a bed in a tiger-striped negligee appeared on the screen while a sensuous drumbeat filled the room.
“Good grief.”
“Welcome, lovers.” A male spoke but Daisy noticed Nick’s attention focused on the tiger-woman who stretched like a lazy boa constrictor. The unseen narrator continued. “Watch and learn as Raymond and Bridget demonstrate the erotic Chinese basket move and other positions guaranteed to enhance your sensual pleasure.”
The drumbeat got louder as the Amazon spread her legs and balanced herself on what turned out to be the lap of a tanned, muscular male. Tarzan/Raymond grunted his appreciation at her efforts. He maintained his smile as he thrust upward. Bridget/Jane arched her back and moaned. The gentle sway of the swing made her ample breasts quiver and tighten.
Or maybe it was Raymond’s erection.
Daisy gaped at the screen, torn between fascination and disgust. “Do you believe this?”
When Nick failed to answer she glanced over at him. Only a twitching muscle in his rock-hard jaw disturbed his death-like stillness. Daisy’s eyes drifted down his body.
It wasn’t just the jaw that was rock hard.
****
Nick stared at Raymond and Bridget’s pretend, mutual climax. They easily moved into a new position with Raymond on top. In the back of his mind Nick knew they should leave but the front of his mind, the part of his brain that governed action, could focus on nothing but Daisy. Desire, hot and urgent streamed through his body. If he moved, he’d throw Daisy down on the leopard-skin bedspread and bury himself in her tight, hot body. He fought for control while sweat glued his shirt to his torso.
“Notice how Bridget avoids a stiff neck while performing oral sex on her partner,” the narrator said. Daisy stared at the screen.
“She does look pretty comfortable,” she said.
Nick’s body jerked with need.
“This next move is the butterfly swirl. It is one hundred percent guaranteed to produce the world’s strongest climax.”
“Or what,” Daisy quipped, “you get your money back?”
Nick didn’t laugh. Every molecule in his body strained with the need for release in the woman next to him.
“Nick?” She touched his cheek in concern. “You’re awfully warm.”
He choked. “Hot. Hotter ’n hell.”
“Now Bridget will turn onto her stomach,” the voice continued. “The love swing allows Raymond to penetrate much more deeply in this position.”
Under her fingers Nick trembled.
“We should go,” he managed to say.
She dropped her gaze to his crotch and color flooded her cheeks. Jesus. She was turned on, too.
“You sure you want to leave?” She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and he sucked in his breath. Without breaking eye contact with him she pulled the tongue out of his belt buckle and slowly, carefully, unzipped his jeans.
He knew her hands would feel the same way they had in the Jeep and he almost came before she touched him.
“This next position is called the pit stop,” the voice said. “It’s Raymond’s favorite.”
Daisy dipped her hands into his open fly and cradled him. She used one forefinger to trace the throbbing vein.
Oxygen. The breath strangled in his throat.
“I think,” Daisy whispered, “you’re ready to try the pit stop.”
They couldn’t make love on Arthur’s bed. The mental protest did not deter him from stripping off her slacks and panties, or from lifting her onto the bed. He flipped her onto her stomach and slid a hand under her. The feel of her soft stomach drove him over the edge and he drove himself into her in one wild thrust. God, she felt good. A groan rose in his chest and his hips battered her.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “Can’t stop.”
She pushed back hard and he groaned again. He gritted his teeth against the pleasure that was too intense to last. His climax rushed at him like a freight train. He came hard, pumping again and again into her body. Finally he collapsed on her unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to imagine how it could have happened.
Sweat dripped from his face and hair onto her neck.
“Daisy.”
She made a little sound.
“Daisy?” He placed his palm on the back of her neck. “Did I hurt you, honey?”
She shifted under him until she was on her back. The golden eyes lidded and her slow smile warmed him. She put her arms around him and pillowed him on her soft body. Nick let out a long sigh and lay very still.
Chapter Nineteen
Daisy knew Nick regretted the lightning quick sex. It represented a complete loss of control for a man who valued that commodity over all else. She wanted to reassure him but his grim expression strangled the comforting words in her throat. Instead, she helped him straighten the bed and they made their way, silently, through the house and the field. She tried to lighten the mood when they reached the car.
“The champagne and brie make sense now that we know what he’s using the house for.”
“I’m sorry for my aunt,” he said, shortly.
Daisy gazed at him, surprised. “Why? What woman wouldn’t want a love nest with the man she loves?”
“Arthur’s not bringing my aunt out here. He’s having an affair with someone else. Isabelle thinks it’s Leilani Harter.”
Daisy peered at him. “You can’t really believe that.”
He shrugged. “He’s having an affair with someone.”
“Dang.” Daisy’s heart went out to the older woman. After a moment her mind wandered back to the room at the top of the house.
“I wish we could have tried out the sex swing.”
The car swerved on the highway.
“I’ll build us a sex swing after we’re married.”
She studied his face for a moment.
“If this is about my reputation you can quit w
orrying about it. I won’t be ruined by a brief affair and, in any case, I don’t care. My sex life is nobody’s business.”
“It’s not just that. We’re compatible and we’re hot for each other. If you think I can live in the same town with you and maintain a hands off policy, you’re crazy.”
He had a point and she was honest enough to admit it.
“I don’t want to end this either.”
He glanced at her, his gray eyes on fire. “I want you in my bed. We can’t live together in Mayville, Daisy. Not without marriage.”
He was right, of course. Still, it wasn’t enough of a reason to get married.
“So let’s do it.”
She yearned to say yes. Was it possible that he just hadn’t thought to use the magic phrase? She gathered her courage and asked.
“Do you love me, Nick?”
His pause lasted long enough to kill the eager hope.
“I don’t know.”
“Thanks,” she said, shakily, biting back the bitter disappointment, “for not lying.”
“Love isn’t everything,” he pointed out. “Unless I miss my guess, we just indulged again in unprotected sex. You might just have to marry me.”
She winced. Dang.
****
Black cloths covered the three tables borrowed from St. Mary’s Star of the Sea. Delicious odors rose from Pyrex pans of chicken tetrazzini, tuna noodle casserole, beans and franks and sweet and sour pork. Jell-O salads and Heavenly Hash joined potato and pasta salads on the tables. There was fresh fruit, cut veggies, chocolate and coconut cakes and plates and plates of Junie’s cauldron cookies.
What the guests didn’t eat tonight could be used for the handfasting feast.
Daisy drove out to the cabin to feed Larry, shower and change into a gauzy navy tunic trimmed with silver and a pair of jeans. She figured she’d blend in with the night. When she returned she rearranged the food on the table to conceal the coconut cake from Miss Olive.
Caroline appeared with a bowl of punch. She looked slim and elegant in a black tank top and capris.
She was not smiling but she sounded resigned. “Where’ve you been?”
“I’m sorry. I should have stayed around to help with the preparations. I went on an errand with Nick.”
Her sister’s face twisted. “Daze,” her voice was gentle, “you can’t marry that man.”
“Who said anything about marriage?”
“He did. He told me he’d asked. You can’t do it.”
Can’t. Not shouldn’t.
“I told him ‘no.’” Daisy indicated the full tables and the stone altar set up on the flat grass on the other side of the archway and the trees and bushes jeweled with tiny lights. “Everything looks beautiful. And just in time.” Guests appeared at the side gate and, for a moment, Daisy forgot the troubling subject of Nick Bowman as she admired the imaginative balance between traditional funeral dress and what they imagined was Wiccan attire.
Mayor Hotchkiss and his wife arrived in matching forest green bathrobes embroidered with “His Honor” and “Hers.” Quentin wore a Renaissance-style tunic while Cherry Ann had chosen a swimsuit halter top and a pair of pantaloons ala I Dream of Jeannie. Miss Olive wore her customary funeral dress but she’d added some silver jewelry. Isabelle wore a red kimono while Arthur had on a dark, gray business suit. Alice appeared in dark slacks and a sweater. Junie’s toga had been a pink bed sheet in a previous incarnation.
Daisy’s heart flooded with affection for the people of Mayville and their attempt to connect with the newcomers.
“Daisy!” Junie yodeled. “You look très jolie. How do you like my outfit?”
Daisy’s gaze drifted over the feathers stuck in Junie’s ponytail band. “Pocahontas meets Bewitched?”
“Ah ciel! The precise look I was going for. Have you seen Nick?”
She’d done a lot more than see him. Fortunately, Junie seldom waited for an answer.
“Wait until you see Harmony Lime.”
Nick’s stepmother arrived moments later in a white, Victorian wedding gown with long tight sleeves and a hooped skirt. Her hair drifted down her back and kohl emphasized her large eyes.
“I can’t decide whether she looks more like Cleopatra or Morticia Addams,” Daisy said.
“He, on the other hand, looks simply gorgeous.” Junie sighed and nodded at Nick. The man wore a khaki shirt and ancient blue jeans that hugged his powerful legs. Daisy silently agreed with her sister. Physically, Nick was every woman’s dream.
“I think you should marry him.”
Daisy gaped at Junie. “What?”
“He told me he asked. Why wouldn’t you marry him? It’s obvious you’ve got the hots for him. Why not marry him and have your own happily ever after?”
Daisy looked up to see Caroline within earshot, a tight expression on her beautiful features.
“Merde,” Junie muttered. “Caro’s jealous.”
Daisy shook her head.
“What other objection could she have? I mean, he’s Nick Bowman. Where’s the bad? And you need someone around, Daze, since we’re going to Chicago.”
Hecate drifted past, wisps of white lace dripping from the arms and hem of her long dress. “It’s time,” she said, “to cast the Sacred Circle.”
Daisy found a spot on the grass. After a few moments she felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck and she knew Nick had come up behind her. He smelled like male and sex and heaven. She forced herself to focus on Cedric dressed in a white cape and Hecate beside him.
The Wiccans began to chant and soon the townspeople joined in.
Prunella’s voice rose above the whispers. “As the sun sets, so our friends have left us. The water of our tears like the salt water of the sea, and the water of our mothers’ womb, blesses this Circle.”
Daisy blinked at the lovely words. Maybe Wicca wasn’t crazy at all.
“I call the South,” Hecate continued.
Sigrid’s voice rose. “As life is a day, so our friends have passed into the night. The first of our life, the memories and courage, the strength given to us by our friends bless this Circle.”
Nick’s hand on her back felt comforting and warm. She suddenly understood the reason for funeral services and other rituals. The sense of community did not make letting go any easier, but it did make it possible.
Daisy glanced at her sisters. She had to let them go. She inhaled a deep breath of evening and felt something inside her relax.
“I call the East,” Hecate said.
“As all that falls shall rise again, so our friends will be reborn,” Harmony Lime chanted.
“And the North.”
“As the Earth forms us so our friends shall return to the earth.”
The familiar voice startled Daisy.
“Our Mother feeds us, and clothes us. She gives us everything and in the end she takes our bodies back,” Alice said.
“Our Lady, you are the Goddess as are all women,” said Hecate. She did not appear to be addressing anyone in particular but, rather, the universe as a whole. “You give birth. You feed the children from your own body. And you take them back for a new birth. World without end, eternal creation.”
Daisy felt a cool breeze and realized Nick had moved away from her. She spotted him next to Junie. They made a stunning picture, Junie’s fairness contrasted with his dark mystery. It was how Nick and Caro must have looked together all those years ago. They looked right. Nick and Daisy would look all wrong.
The dusky sky turned to royal blue and finally indigo as individuals spoke of the recently departed.
Penelope spoke of her aunt, Charlotte Mumford, a woman who liked to crochet and play slot machines. Junie spoke of the man she remembered as Adrian Smith and the way his eyes crinkled when he was amused.
Miss Olive mentioned Ora’s allergy to coconut, her love of music and her lifelong desire to be buried in a rosewood casket along with her parents and twin. Tears pricked the backs of Daisy’s eyelids
.
When they’d finished, Hecate stepped into the center of the circle. This time she spoke directly to the dead.
“We are with you,” she said, “here to help you with your deaths. Our lives are formed of many others and we form other lives in turn. We honor your lives and we honor your deaths. They are part of us.”
Our lives are formed of many others.
It was true. Love wasn’t just a bond of blood. It was everywhere. Nick had taught her not to hang onto her relations. She wished she could teach him to trust his. Isabelle and Buzz cared for him and Harmony Lime, in her own way. Mostly, Daisy knew how Theo Bowman had felt about his eldest grandson. He’d loved him enough to let him go, enough to bring him back.
She felt steady gray eyes on her and she exchanged his glance. Her heart brimmed with emotion.
“And now we praise the Goddess,” Cedric intoned, “and the Great Horned God, through whom we are reborn. Raise your arms and feel the power of mysticism. It is time for the dead to travel to Summerland. We wish them happiness on the other side of the veil.”
****
While the guests descended on the food-laden tables on one side of the garden, Isabelle, Arthur and Harmony Lime joined Nick near the fountain.
“It was a nice tribute,” Isabelle said.
“Yes. Doesn’t Cedric make a wonderful Grand Wizard?”
“Certainly,” Isabelle agreed. “Of course he is the only male in the coven.”
“He did a fine job,” Arthur said.
“He gets his power directly from the Horned God,” Harmony Lime explained.
Arthur could have been the horned god himself, Nick thought. Was it possible that infidelity was his only crime? But if that were so, who was behind the sabotage of Bowman’s Biscuits? And who had attacked Daisy in the cellar of the Gray Lady? The questions circulated in his brain but he could find no answers. He realized, suddenly, that he was standing next to Alice. He smiled at her.
“You had a major role tonight,” he said. “Does that mean you’re a card-carrying member of the coven?”
She laughed, lightly. “I have more of a guest pass. I don’t mind helping out. The Send-off seems to give people a sense of closure.”
Nick nodded. He felt a sharp jolt of sympathy for his soon-to-be-ex-sister-in-law. He wondered if she knew about Buzz’s plans. He heard her voice again but it was directed at Arthur and it was tinged with concern.