It Takes Two

by Sheridon Smythe

  "Maybe it wasn't a hallucination,” he murmured. “Maybe they really can talk."

  "That—that would be impossible."

  "Or magic."

  "You believe in magic?” Despite her helplessly husky tone, she managed to sound incredulous. Zachary Wayne, a believer of magic. No way. He was as solid and as down to earth as any man she'd ever met. Gee, was he solid.

  He caught her gaze and held it, all hint of humor gone. “I didn't believe in magic before I met you."

  It was a trap. Justine knew it, but she had to ask. “But now you do?” Gullible fool. No, she wasn't gullible. She was just playing along. He could talk nonsense all night long, and she would pretend to listen.

  "Now I do."

  She meant to laugh, to let him know how corny his remark sounded, but it was hard to do with his wonderful mouth moving on hers, coaxing her lips apart, and consuming her with little effort. She was lost before their tongues met, and completely in over her head when they found each other and began to duel in earnest.

  His hands were cool and exciting as they slipped beneath her sweater and splayed over her back. When the clasp of her bra came free, Justine felt a jolt of hot desire shoot through her belly. He was good. So very damned good. And to prove it, he slowly worked his way around until his hand cupped her breast. Her nipple hardened, jutting shamelessly toward his palm. She moaned as he gently pressed his thumb and forefinger around it and squeezed, just the way she liked it.

  He hadn't forgotten. No, he hadn't forgotten!

  The kiss deepened; they both panted like honeymooners after a long abstinence. She reached for the button of his jeans just as he reached for hers. Arms tangled together, but somehow they managed it.

  She slipped her hand inside his briefs and cupped him, tracing paths she'd traced before, but now seemed new to her all over again, reacquainting herself with his feel, his length. He pulsed beneath her, hot, hard, and ready.

  He inched his fingers beneath her panties and made her sob with the first tentative touch. Zack could do that. How could she have forgotten? She hadn't, though. She'd merely put it from her mind so that she wouldn't go insane with missing him.

  And now here she was, falling right back into a hole she might not be able to crawl out of. Zack's arms were that hole. A wondrous hole, no doubt, but at what price? Another heartache that never died? A long string of painful months waking in the night and hugging her pillow, crying buckets of useless tears for a man who got his kicks loving and leaving?

  Justine's thoughts made her hesitate, but Zack quickly distracted her by whispering huskily in her ear, “God, I missed you."

  She could hardly doubt his sincerity, as heartfelt as he sounded, and she wasn't lying when she whispered back, “I missed this, too.” She missed a whole lot more, but she knew better than to think about it, and her choice of words wasn't an accident.

  "I want to get rid of these clothes so that I can feel your satin skin against me. Feel you, all of you."

  Justine's body melted at his smooth pillow talk, but her mind remained clear, her thinking both cynical and cautious. Before she could think of just one reason she shouldn't indulge her starved body while keeping her heart safe, he had thrust her beneath him on the sofa and had began to tug her jeans down.

  Once she decided to stop fighting him—at least the sexual attraction part—Justine jumped in with both hands. He was naked before he'd finished undressing her, and she helped him with the rest. Her urgency spurred his passion. They met skin to skin, hip to hip, and mouth to mouth.

  She quickly showed him the way and clasped him to her. He sank so deeply and completely into her that a shudder threatened to rip her apart. Her body wept joyfully at the union, but her mind ruthlessly recalled the price for such weak emotions.

  Buried deep inside her, he hovered for a moment, still and trembling. She knew by the tight look on his face that he was struggling for control. Zack was an unselfish lover, and he would hate himself if he left her behind.

  Without thinking, without considering the consequences, Justine gave him a slow, wanton smile, a glimpse of the old Justine, the one who knew which buttons to push and dared to push them. His reaction was a primitive growl that fanned the flames of her desire to a roaring bonfire.

  Three powerful strokes and she was gone, lost in the ecstasy only Zachary Wayne could give. He soon followed, whispering her name over and over again with such poignant desperation that Justine had to shut him out or believe.

  And she couldn't believe him, not ever.

  "Stars above, are they finished?” Reuben demanded, sounding adorably embarrassed.

  Mini withdrew the crystal ball and peeped at it with one eye squinted. Quickly. “Justine's getting dressed."

  "What's Zack doing? No, wait! Don't answer—"

  "He's sleeping,” Mini said, watching and trying not to smile as her husband strutted along the perch looking extremely uncomfortable. He stopped often to fluff his feathers, as if he were hot. She knew how he felt, and why. They had watched the inflamed couple until they noticed Zack's hand tunneling beneath Justine's sweater.

  With a gasp and a giggle, Mini had quickly thrust the ball beneath her wing. But the atmosphere leading to that moment had been taut with unseen sparks, and consciously or not, Reuben had been moved just as she had.

  This time, it was Reuben asking the question, “How do you think it went? Well, obviously it went well in one way, although I'm surprised at the speed—” Reuben stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. “What I meant was—"

  "I know what you meant, darling.” Mini shamelessly stroked his ego, her eyes moving up and down his feathered form in a seductive way that Reuben instantly recognized. “And I'm glad you never get in a hurry."

  "You are?” Reuben inquired, seeking reassurance. He edged closer to his sweet-talking wife, envisioning her not as a fat-breasted bird, but as the beautiful witch she truly was. In her true form, he knew that her hair was a waterfall of black silk, her face was that of an angel, and her lips ruby red and ripe for kissing. Add a body that would excite a monk, and slanted green eyes that could light his shorts with just a glance, and he had the prettiest witch in the universe.

  The fact that she had chosen him—a mean-spirited warlock who wasn't half as good-looking as most of the male witches she knew—when she could have had anyone she wanted, still astounded him.

  Unaware of her husband's appreciative thoughts, Mini nodded. “Reuben, I don't mean to change the subject, but do you think Zack meant what he said about believing in magic?"

  Reuben shrugged, still thinking about the night to come. He wanted to experience the same passion with Mini that he'd witnessed tonight between the two mortals, a passion that was so thick, it seemed almost painful. At least he'd learned something tonight. Mini had been right about Zack and Justine; the two mortals were soul mates.

  "Reuben? Are you with me?"

  "Hmm?” Reuben jerked his attention back to his wife. “I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

  "I said, do you think we should talk to Zack? Let him know that we're here to help?"

  "Why him and not the young mortal?” he asked, recalling how she'd stopped him earlier. She had apologized a hundred times, but he could still feel the sting of her wing against his face.

  Mini frowned and shook her head. “I'm afraid it would be too much for Jordan, and too big a secret to keep to himself. You saw how quickly he told Justine."

  "No harm. She didn't begin to believe him.” Reuben followed his observation with a snort of derision. Justine's total disbelief still irked him.

  "I know. Instead, she thought he was hallucinating as a result of a drug.” Mini looked worried. “I hope she's got that idea out of her head."

  "I think maybe Zack distracted her,” Reuben said dryly.

  "Humph! I think maybe she distracted him even more."

  Reuben waved his wing and produced a plate of steaming clams. When he intercepted his wife's threatening glare, he waved a re
signed wing across the plate and turned it into a disgusting pile of sunflower seeds. Maybe she wouldn't notice the salt.

  "Remove the salt, please. It's bad for us."

  Maybe she would. With a grunt, Reuben did as she asked. “What I want to know,” he said between bites, “is what we're going to do about the monkey.” The seeds weren't as bad as he expected. Quite good, in fact, even without the seasoning.

  "I don't know what we can do. Just like the warming spell, the love spell wore off when the monkey got out of our range."

  Reuben couldn't resist an evil chuckle as he recalled the monkey's excellent aim with the apple. The little devil had spirit, and Reuben always admired spirit. If he could get over his...revulsion of animals—he refused to admit that it was fear—then he wouldn't mind having the little fellow himself.

  "Well, I don't think it's fair not to do something. You saw for yourself that Zack has a lot on his mind. He shouldn't have to fear for his life as well."

  "Maybe he'll just return the monkey,” Reuben suggested, quickly conjuring a goblet of clear wine to wash down the seeds. He stole a glance at Mini, relieved to see that she had decided to take a bath and wasn't paying attention.

  "He won't, at least not for a while.” She sighed. “Something tells me tonight was just the beginning of the battle. Justine will be running scared now that she's allowed herself to indulge in a bout of steamy hot sex with Zack."

  Reuben choked at her words. He quickly gulped his wine.

  "And don't think I don't know what you're drinking, husband dear,” Mini said tartly.

  In the blink of an eye, the wine became water. “Sly witch,” he muttered beneath his breath.

  "I heard that, and I'll take it as a compliment."

  He looked up just as Mini spread her wings wide, revealing a patch of tender, soft white feathers beneath. His mouth watered. He couldn't believe he was getting turned on by a patch of feathers, but damned if he wasn't!

  Unaware of her husband's lustful gaze, Mini dipped forward, splashing water onto her breast with her wings. The move sent her tail high in the air, giving Reuben a tantalizing glimpse of more white feathers covering her perky behind.

  Reuben muttered a chant beneath his breath and the feast of seeds disappeared. He rose and tip-toed across the cage to join his wife in her bath. Tonight was going to be a night Mini would never forget, he vowed.

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  Chapter Thirteen

  Tuesday afternoon, while the team warmed up for practice, Zack slipped into the principal's office and called the florist.

  He ordered a dozen red roses and a card that read, Do you believe in magic? When he thought the florist had enough time to deliver the flowers and the message, he slipped back into the office and called the pet store.

  Jordan answered the phone, and after a few moments of shuffling sounds and indistinguishable whispers, Jordan returned to the line and cheerfully informed him that Justine was too busy to talk.

  Mildly disappointed, Zack ended practice at four and headed home. They had a game scheduled on Friday, and by then Zack hoped the boys accepted the fact that Jordan Diamond would not be playing, and that they could win without him.

  Once home he intended to take a quick—and probably lukewarm shower—and take Justine out to dinner. After last night, he figured things would begin to move more quickly. She could hardly deny now that there was something special between them. Special and timeless.

  Smiling at his sappy thoughts, Zack opened the door to the apartment building and stepped into the foyer. He nearly collided with Barry. No matter. Even his wacky neighbor couldn't spoil his mood.

  Or so he thought.

  "Hello, neighbor."

  Barry smirked, ignoring the greeting. “Tell me, Mr. Wayne, does it bother you at all to come in second?"

  Zack reminded himself the man wasn't playing with a full deck. He managed to keep his smile as he said, “Is hot water that important to you, Mr....Fowler? Because it isn't to me. In fact, I'm growing used to cold showers, so why don't we just bury the—"

  "I wasn't talking about hot water,” Barry interrupted, his smirk turning into a full-blown sneer. “I was talking about women. Justine in particular."

  Every muscle tensed at his implication. Zack's smile vanished. Remaining civilized suddenly seemed like a waste of time.

  Through his tightly clenched teeth, Zack snarled, “Explain yourself."

  "You don't know?” Barry feigned surprise. “I'm surprised she didn't tell you. Justine and I used to be...quite close. We were going to be married."

  "Is that so?” Zack told himself to calm down, that the man could and was likely lying through his gloating teeth. Maybe he and Justine had dated once or twice, but Zack could not believe Justine would—

  "We had a slight...misunderstanding, and then she went running off on some cruise instead of letting me explain.” Barry's lips tightened. “I don't know what happened on that stupid cruise, but when she came back—"

  Zack exploded. He poked a sharp finger into Barry's puny chest, backing him up a few steps with the force. “I'm what happened, you wacky mutt! Justine fell in love with me on that stupid cruise.” This time he had surprised Barry, but Barry recovered far too quickly for Zack's satisfaction.

  "Ah, but she couldn't have been in love with you, because she was in love with me. You were nothing more than a rebound."

  Barry's words struck a nerve, arousing a suspicion Zack had so far refused to consider. Justine had told him she was involved with someone. At the time he hadn't really believed her. Now he was forced to admit she might have been telling the truth, but damned if he'd let Barry know. “If she was in love with you, then why was she in my apartment last night, instead of yours?"

  It was a damned good question, but an immature thing to say. When the man's face turned red, Zack decided it hadn't been a bad idea after all. Could he help it if the man possessed a wild imagination? He hadn't blurted out every sweet, intimate detail—no matter how badly he itched to bury that smirk on Barry's face.

  "If you know her at all,” Barry's tone implied his doubt, “then you know how fickle she is."

  The man simply didn't know when to stop, Zack thought, clenching his fists and wondering if he'd lose his job if he got thrown in jail. It would be almost worth it to feel Barry's bones crunch beneath his knuckles.

  Barry continued blithely on. “She falls in and out of love as often as it snows. This week she loves you, next week she'll love me. She gets a kick out of making me jealous."

  Zack had reached his limit. He took a menacing step in Barry's direction. Just one little tap on the nose, just hard enough to break his bone and make the blood flow. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so bloodthirsty.

  He would have hit him, too, if he hadn't noticed the water dripping onto Barry's head in an ever-increasing stream. Barry noticed it too. He slapped at his head, then with a grimace looked up. Zack did the same, groaning when he saw the water leaking from the ceiling.

  It was coming from his apartment.

  "Mrs. Winberry's here for another goldfish."

  "So sell her one.” Justine kept scrubbing the snake cage, pausing long enough to adjust the young python curled around her neck. Mrs. Winberry was a sweet old lady, but Justine just wasn't up to talking to her.

  She wasn't up to talking to anyone.

  Jordan stroked the python. “She insists on talking to you. She says this time she wants a goldfish that won't die on her."

  Justine threw her sponge down, heaving an irritated sigh. The python stirred restlessly. “How many does that make for her? Ten, twelve? She's got to be doing something wrong if they keep dying."

  "Shall I tell her to stick her money where the sun don't shine?” Jordan inquired serenely.

  "No, you may not tell—” She broke off when she saw his smile. It was such a beautiful sight she couldn't help smiling back. “You rat. Tell her I'll be there in a moment."

  Jordan d
isappeared. Justine rose and washed her hands before making her way to the front of the store. Mrs. Winberry stood by the cash register, her lips pursed in a tight line. Justine groaned inwardly and unwrapped the snake, holding him out for Jordan to take.

  "Keep him in the back,” she instructed, uncertain how Mrs. Winberry felt about snakes.

  As Jordan eagerly took the snake, Justine's eye caught a flurry of movement from the bird cage on the counter. To her shock, Reuben tipped backward from the perch. He landed on the cage floor, his feet sticking comically in the air. Almost as if...as if he'd fainted, Justine thought. Mini flapped her wings and dove to her mate's side, clucking urgently and glaring at Justine as if she were at fault.

  "Well, are you going to wait on me, or not?” Mrs. Winberry demanded querulously. “If there was another pet shop in this town, I wouldn't be here.” She thumped the counter with a wrinkled fist. “But you guaranteed my goldfish would live thirty days or I'd get another one."

  Worried about the bird, but knowing Mrs. Winberry wouldn't leave until she got her goldfish, Justine hurried to an aquarium and fished out the healthiest-looking fantail she could find. She darted a glance at the bird cage as she bagged the fish and took it to the counter.

  Reuben was back on his feet, but he didn't look well. He leaned drunkenly against the far side of cage while Mini continued to cluck around him like a mother hen protecting her chick.

  Mrs. Winberry took the bag from her hand, snagging her attention.

  "I hope this one lasts longer,” she complained.

  "Mrs. Winberry, do you have a cat?” Justine could have kicked herself for not asking before.

  "Yes, yes, I do."

  "Can he reach the fish bowl?"

  "Oh, yes. Frederick enjoys watching the goldfish as much as I do. Why do you ask?” Mrs. Winberry sounded genuinely perplexed by Justine's questions.

  "Because...” How to put it delicately? Justine cleared her throat, staring into Mrs. Winberry's faded blue eyes. The woman had to be at least ninety. “Well, cats like fish."

  Mrs. Winberry didn't take the hint. “Yes, yes, but I told you Frederick likes fish."