Slender and strong, her spine curved gently to her ass. The soft cotton of her shirt hugged the curve of her breasts as she twisted slightly, accentuating the dip of her waist and flare of her hips. The peach fabric contrasted lushly with the creamy gold of her skin, creating a mix of soft textures begging to be stroked.
He’d already done so a thousand times in his sleep, but his mouth watered at the thought of doing it for real.
But reality never went as smoothly as dreams. If he walked up behind her, she’d stiffen, not melt. If he put his arms around her, she’d struggle. And if he cut himself, then healed instantly, she’d scream.
Alex scowled. He couldn’t tell her about the threat of Maeve without proof of the paranormal. He couldn’t show her that proof without assurance she wouldn’t freak out and make him leave. Hell, Kalyss had already known of her own gift before being confronted with a statue who became a man, and she’d still hesitated to believe. He couldn’t just pop the proof in front of Elizabeth and expect her to be calm.
Which left him with only one option.
* * *
Elizabeth shut the front door behind her and stepped to the edge of the wide front porch. Pulling her sweater tight against the cold spring night, she wrapped her arms around herself. Alex leaned against his truck, arranging his tools behind the front seat. Today was ending so much better than it had started.
She was going to miss him when he left. She always missed him when she awakened from a dream, feeling chilled without his arms to surround her. She hated that she felt unsafe without his chest bracing her back. Unwanted without his breath brushing past her ear.
But now it would be even worse, because instead of suspecting what she would be missing, she was positive of it. But her course had been set long ago. Men were a weakness to the women in her family. Relationships didn’t work. And to begin one at this point in her life, while her mother was in the hospital and ten kids depended on her for everything, wouldn’t be just a mistake, it would be the height of irresponsibility.
Life was difficult enough when she ached for a touch she could never truly feel. It would be nearly impossible living with the memory of a smile that curled her toes. Or the mischievous glint in his eyes as he’d teased the kids during dinner. How much fun the meal had been with him encouraging everyone to talk and laugh.
She’d never quite learned how to do that. To laugh and play for the sheer joy of doing so. She was typically turned off, closed down, shut out. But tonight she’d felt connected in a way she hadn’t in years. Not that she was a sour or depressing person. She was quiet, contemplative, and comfortable in her own head.
She imagined anyone watching her would get bored, yet, strangely Alex’s gaze had been hot, searing, every time she met his eyes.
The truck seat clicked back into place and Alex shut the door. Halfway up the sidewalk, the truck’s lights shut off, leaving them with only the moon, the stars, and that faint city haze of light to see by. His long legs ate up the distance between them in only a few steps. Gripping her sweater in tight fists, she forced a smile. It was time to say good-bye. A clean break was best for both of them.
Alex halted at the base of the steps, his hazel eyes smiling at her. Ever-present laugh lines visible at the corners of his mouth. All too easily, Elizabeth could see them in fifty years: him grinning at her, teasing her until she relaxed.
Digging her nails into the sides of her arms, Elizabeth yanked herself back on track. Before he could say anything, she rushed to say, “Thank you for your help tonight.”
His eyes widened, then he shrugged and stepped closer. “I’m happy to help a friend.”
Did his voice sound deeper? Or was she imagining things because it was night and the stars were soft as candles? “Well, really, I appreciate it.”
Alex mounted the first step. “I don’t want your gratitude, Beth Ann.”
“Elizabeth,” she corrected automatically. A knot formed in her stomach. “Then what do you want, Alex?”
“You.”
She scowled. “I’m not that grateful.”
His eyes shone with amusement. “Good. Because I said I don’t want gratitude, especially that kind.”
Relief made her knees weak. Much as she might want him, never would she pay for a few fixed toilets with sex. Elizabeth unclenched her hands and lifted her brows. “Then I’m not sure what you want from me.”
Again, he stepped closer. This time, though, he tugged on the trailing ends of her sweater and used them to pull her closer to him. When his eyes met hers, they were completely serious. “Everything.”
Chapter Four
Elizabeth frowned even as her pulse leapt for joy. Where had this come from? Alex had been laughing, playful, and mischievous all night, but now he was intense, focused, and all his attention was on her. Only in their dreams had she seen him like this, and now, as then, it kicked her desire into overdrive. But this wasn’t a dream.
“Alex, I—” She shook her head. “I don’t have anything to give.”
His head cocked to the side as he considered her words. “That, I do not believe.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Like I said. I want all of you.”
“You can’t have me.”
“Why?”
She scowled in disbelief. “Are you serious? Do you really need to ask?”
Alex looked at the house behind her, then back. “This is simply a tough situation. Situations get better. I want a real reason.”
“What’s your reason for wanting me?”
He grinned. “I’ve always wanted you, Elizabeth. You know that.”
She looked away because he was right.
Alex settled his hands on her waist. “The last thing you said to me was, ‘Not in this lifetime’.” Alex’s voice grew harder with each word. “You said that, then you disappeared. You didn’t even go to graduation.” His face was completely exposed by the porch lights behind her. But his eyes were dark. “I’m not so self-centered I believe it was my fault you left.”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly. He didn’t deserve to think that for a second. “It wasn’t.”
“It’s been twelve years and I haven’t forgotten you. After seeing you today, I only want you more. Dreams aren’t enough.”
Cold sweat burst at her nape, a mix of anger, guilt, and fear. Anger with herself, guilt for what she’d done to him, and fear that he would find out. Shaking from her knees up, Elizabeth jerked away from him and broke all contact. “Then don’t dream, Alex. Save yourself and don’t dream of me, because there’s nothing for you here.”
Alex reached for her as if to pull her back. “Elizabeth …”
She evaded his grasp and grabbed the door handle. “Go home, Alex. Thank you for today, but that’s all there is. All there can be.”
“Elizabeth, I don’t understand.”
She shut the door and locked him out.
Alex stared at the closed door for a long moment. Her reaction didn’t make sense. He slowly backed down the porch and went to his truck. Taking a deep breath to hold his thoughts at bay and his actions under control, he got in, started it up, and pulled gently away from the curb. Whatever his next move was, he was fairly sure a tire-peeling temper tantrum wouldn’t help his cause.
It took until he was halfway to the dojo before he could identify his reaction. Fear. But not fear of Maeve or death or danger. No. Once again, he’d made a move and Elizabeth had run away. At this rate, he’d be old, gray, and feeble with nothing but erotic dreams to keep him warm.
Then don’t dream, Alex. Save yourself and don’t dream of me.
If only it was that fucking easy. Alex narrowed his eyes and slammed the stick shift into third gear. The dojo. He had to hold on ’til he got there, then he could let his anger out. And why shouldn’t he be angry? He wasn’t blind. He’d seen the glances, the attraction in her blue-eyed gaze. He’d heard the disappointment in her sexy voice when she’d thought Kalyss’s baby was also
his.
And he’d sure as hell seen how her nipples had tightened to succulent little points he craved to taste whenever he stood close. Her rejection was a lie, and she denied both of them, not just him. And that simply didn’t make sense.
Alex didn’t even bother with lights as he entered the workout room of the dojo. Street lamps outside shone through the glass, casting a low, ghostly glow over the instruments around him. Toward the corner stood the wooden dummy his father had made for Alex last Christmas, and that’s what he went for. The polished dark wood gleamed in the dim light, inviting him to lose himself in mindless motion.
Alex stopped and bent his knees, crossing his hands in front of him, palms flat and down. Three posts were angled toward him, two pointing at him, chest high, and one going down. After a deep breath, he brought his hands up hard, his left hand high, palm slapping the top pole, and his right hand low, the palm hitting the second pole.
It was a two handed X-block—the basis of a Naihanchi Kata. With a swipe of his foot against the dummy’s lead leg, he completed the first combination. Then he repeated it, adding a strike to the rhythm. Gradually, he began to flow, striking harder and faster, his bare palms slapping the wood.
His father was good with wood. Always had been. He’d made cabinets and furniture all through Alex’s childhood, selling them to different companies around town and building a solid reputation as a talented craftsman.
But more important to Alex was his dad’s reputation as a father and a husband. His parents loved each other and that formed the basis of Alex’s dreams for the future. He wanted what they had. He wanted to build a marriage and a family and construct a safe, solid home for his children. He wanted to teach them skills, guide them through life while standing beside a woman whose smiles brought him contentment, whose laughter inspired his happiness.
And maybe when the kids were grown, Alex and his wife would sell their house and take off cross-country in an RV, seeing in person everything they’d only read about or seen pictures of the way his parents did, determined to enjoy their dream before their bodies were too old. Or Alex finally gave them grandchildren to spoil.
Alex couldn’t take MMA on the road and online the way his dad had with woodworking, but traveling together for even a short vacation with the woman he loved was a possibility for the future, and that’s what he wanted most. A future with possibilities.
But the woman he wanted was Elizabeth and she refused to consider any possibilities. Refused to even speak with him. She had the weight of the world on her shoulders and felt no inclination to find anyone to help her carry it.
He’d made a mistake, depending on the attraction between them to give him a place in her life. She still wasn’t ready for anything personal, but there didn’t seem too many other options. He could physically pick her up and carry her along, forcing her wherever he thought it best to go, but that maneuver had gotten Geoffrey killed. At least twice. He couldn’t wait patiently for her to come to him. It would really never happen, then.
So, what was his best approach? There had to be one, damn it. She needed him. Whatever else they were facing, the threat he’d seen in his dream was the most important.
He needed a way in, a way to stay. Clearly not a romantic one. He’d been useful today, but fixing toilets wouldn’t last forever. Of course, there were plenty of other things that needed fixing. Alex pounded the dummy harder, waiting for it to crack against the punishment.
So his choice was to forget his dreams, stay close to what he couldn’t have, and work his ass off. He wasn’t afraid of hard work, but was it even possible to be that close to his desire and not go for it? If there was anything he could never be, refused to be, to Beth Ann, it was simply a friend.
Again, his conscience prompted him to tell her the truth about Maeve, about his gift. He wasn’t comfortable keeping such crucial knowledge a secret. And danger could create a closeness she’d find difficult to break, a devilish thought. But no, considering the type and weight of her responsibilities, that would earn him another door in the face. It was too big of a risk.
A bright light suddenly blinded him. Standing as still as possible, he blinked until his eyes adjusted. When he could see, his best friend stood before him. Kalyss stood in perfect battle-ready form, her knees bent, her fists blocking her face, her core straight. She gave Alex a challenging stare. Alex looked around the empty sparring room, then back at the short blonde in front of him. A few months ago, she could’ve kicked his ass. Partly because he couldn’t bear to take that final, finishing shot. Not against Kalyss. A fact she happily took advantage of whenever it suited her.
But after she’d left for her honeymoon, Geoffrey had worked Alex pretty hard. His skills were now up a notch or ten and he couldn’t risk it. Especially not while she was pregnant. Whether from science, prayer, or Alex’s growing ability to heal, Kalyss’s conceiving a child was a miracle not to be chanced, no matter how bored and over-protected she felt. Alex returned her glare with one that was distinctly unimpressed.
Kalyss widened her eyes and pleaded, “Please?”
In his best imitation-Geoffrey tone, Alex said, “I think not.”
“Aw, come on!” She scowled at the injustice and Alex looked to the door again, praying help would arrive. And it did.
“Be nice, love.” Dreux and Geoffrey walked into the room and Dreux slid his arms around Kalyss, his hands settling on her stomach. “He knows I’d kill him.”
Dreux wasn’t wrong, and unlike some people, Alex wouldn’t survive being dead. Dreux knew more ways to kill than even Geoffrey had died from. Not that he’d have to use them. No, Dreux would probably just turn his finger to stone and tap Alex on the head and that would be all she wrote. Alex gave Kalyss a mocking smile. She growled and he laughed silently, pointing teasingly at her nose to bug her.
Kalyss pointedly ignored him and looked over her shoulder at her husband. “I just wanted to move a little. Nothing dangerous. Besides,” she snarled at Alex’s annoying finger. “He deserves it!”
She tried to escape Dreux’s arms, but he tightened his hold as his arms turned to actual granite from his shoulders to his fingertips. She was completely trapped in an unbreakable hold and, judging from her pouty face, she knew it.
Alex grimaced. “Please never tell me all the things you use that little trick for.”
Kalyss lowered her chin, her eyes cold with annoyance. “Keep making cracks like that and I will tell you—in detail—starting with his—”
“Ack! La-la-la!” Alex covered his ears and turned away from them. “I can’t hear you. La-la-la.”
Through his hands he could hear her laughing, which was pretty much his goal. Before he could congratulate himself for distracting her, though, Kalyss asked, “So how did it go?”
Damn. So close. Alex exhaled and reached for a fresh towel from the stack they kept on a shelf. He glanced at Geoffrey, but spoke to Kalyss. “I thought Geoffrey filled you in?”
“Oh, he did.” Kalyss watched him with concerned eyes, not a bit deflected. “Maeve’s on her way soon. Beth Ann has it rough. I’m not asking about all that stuff.”
Three pairs of eyes zeroed in on him. Oh, goody. He rubbed the towel over his face and neck. “She prefers Elizabeth, not Beth Ann.”
“And?” Kalyss tilted her head and tugged on Dreux’s arms until he released her. Coming closer as she examined Alex’s face, she pursed her lips and angrily said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What?” Alex tried to ask innocently.
“She pushed you away again,” Kalyss huffed, her hands on her hips now.
“Don’t get all protective. It’s no big deal.” Alex shrugged. Kalyss knew how important this was to him. She’d known him forever. She’d picked up the pieces Beth Ann had left the first time. She’d watched him ruin perfectly good relationships as he backpedaled away from commitment. “And you of all people know how hard it is to convince a strong-willed woman to fall in love.”
“We’r
e not talking about me,” she snapped.
“You’re not, but,” Alex looked at Dreux. “I really feel for you, man.”
Dreux chuckled. “And I understand your pain.”
Kalyss rolled her eyes. “Fine. She’s just like me. Our situations are totally similar.”
Dreux tugged on her ponytail. “No one is like you, love.”
Alex watched her irritation melt. “I know you don’t like Elizabeth—”
Kalyss shook her head and gestured toward him. “I just don’t understand her. You’re a great guy. She should give you a chance.”
“Well, I need to figure out an excuse to go back—”
“Fix her tire and bring her the vehicle,” Geoffrey said, calmly logical.
Alex looked up, stunned by the obvious suggestion. “Good idea. How else would she get it?”
Kalyss snorted. “Don’t underestimate strong-willed women.”
Alex grinned. “Okay, so that’ll get her to open the door. How do I keep it open?”
“Take off your shirt.” Kalyss blushed as all the men gaped at her. Looking at Dreux, she muttered, “Well, it helps. There are just certain sights a girl can’t forget, no matter how ‘uninterested’ she may be.”
Alex laughed. “I think walking up to her door without a shirt on when there’s still snow on the ground might be just a bit too obvious.”
Kalyss gave him a wide-eyed, innocent expression. “It’s almost melted.”
Geoffrey leaned against a table and crossed his arms. “You said she’s a programmer?”
“Software designer, yeah.”
“We could use that. If her job is in Seattle and she’s here, she’s obviously not working. Chances are likely they could use some money.”
“True. But what do we need software for? A basic setup covers everything for the dojo. She’d see through that in a heartbeat.”
Geoffrey raised a brow. “It would be for me.”
Alex pictured the bookshelves full of research Geoffrey had gathered in his nine hundred and some-odd years. “There’s a difference between a project and a career.”
Cursed Page 5