My father cleared his throat, and sudden heat rushed into my cheeks. Yeah, okay, I’d been staring. I mean, seriously, the guy was hot in ways that had nothing to do with his being spawned in the suburbs of Hell. Worse, the Grim Reaper clearly knew I’d been staring, and his smile stretched even wider. Bad doggie.
“Ho, ho, ho,” Dad chuckled like a demented Santa. “You’ve got the wrong sister, Kane. Denise is the psychology aficionado.”
Damn! Denise. How was I going to explain Morgan Kane to my inquisitive and annoyingly perceptive sister? Let them say what they will about blondes, Denise’s mind is a steel trap. She would remember Kane from the brief glimpse she’d had of him when he brought me home the day Roger died. Furthermore, she would also recall my lame explanation that he was merely a stranger who worked at the garage where I’d had the car towed. And now, out of the blue, he was included in the family coffee klatch? No doubt about it, an uncomfortable interrogation was imminent.
“Psychology junkie is more accurate,” I grumbled irritably. If there was a psychology class offered anywhere within a fifty mile radius, my sister’s was the first name on the roster. She never did anything with all of those college credits she accumulated, and I doubted she ever would. I guess she simply felt compelled to understand what made people tick. She frequently, and irksomely, pulled some deep insight out of her bottomless designer bag of tricks to explain my behavior to me. Just because she was often spot on didn’t make it any less irritating. On the contrary.
“I guess everybody’s got their vices.” Dad laughed. “Well, I’d better get into the house and give Gail a hand. See you inside.” Dad nodded politely at Kane and loped off in the direction of the back door, leaving an awkward lapse in conversation in his wake.
“Sooooo…” I buried my clenched fists in my pockets and pretended to be engrossed in the artistic pattern I was tracing in the gravel of the drive with the toe of my tennis shoe.
“So?” I hated the fact that such an innocuous word, when spoken in the deep, smoky voice of the Grim Reaper, had the power to make me press my thighs together and squirm. I made the mistake of looking up and meeting those piercing green eyes, and the sensation became even more pronounced. It should be illegal for Death to look so good.
“What are you really doing here?” I choked out, dreading the answer. No doubt, some denizen of the supernatural realm had screwed up yet again, and I was going to be asked to skip on over to the Between and haul someone’s mostly dead ass back to the land of the living.
“Were you not paying attention, Logan? I told you I wanted to discuss developmental psychology.”
“Yeah, I was paying attention, but just because I’m awake does not mean I’m functional. It’s the weekend. My brain doesn’t start firing on all cylinders until at least noon,” I shot back.
“I see.” Kane smirked. I found myself fascinated with the way his well-formed lips moved.
Did I mention his scars were pretty much gone, and his face was now whole, perfect, and incredibly beautiful?
And he had his long, dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail that offered an unobstructed view of his flawlessness? Yeah.
“And here I thought you’d be all bright-eyed and bushy tailed at ten forty-five in the morning.”
“If you want bright-eyed and bushy tailed, get yourself a pet squirrel.” I was relieved to discover that even my odd fascination with Morgan Kane’s beauty did not render me speechless. Then again, if my family had an opinion, they’d say no one had yet discovered anything that could. “And now that you’ve gotten yourself invited for coffee, would you care to enlighten me as to how I’m supposed to explain you?”
“Explain me?” His brow wrinkled in a look of genuine confusion.
I eyed him critically. Given his overwhelming gorgeousness, Denise might buy I’d had a moment of temporary insanity leading to an uncharacteristic one-night stand after the wedding. It would be a bonus if she thought I possessed the talent to seduce such a stunning man on my own.
“Is there an echo out here? Yes, explain you. I can’t exactly announce the Grim Reaper just happened to drop by for doughnuts and psychobabble.”
It might even persuade Denise to cease and desist her persistent efforts to set me up with one of Brad-the-Famous-Vascular-Surgeon’s golf buddies. Score! Sometimes my own brilliance astounds me. I opened my mouth to ascertain whether Morgan Kane would agree to play along with my clever ruse, but his next words stopped me cold.
“Sure you can, Logan. Hell, everyone but your nieces knows the truth.”
“What?” Damn, it was going to be a real challenge to consume the freshly fried doughnut stuffed with raspberry jam and topped with thick white frosting and coconut awaiting my attention on my father’s kitchen table with my jaw dragging on the ground like this. Kane hooked two long, calloused fingers under my chin, and snapped my mouth shut. My eyebrows, however, remained buried somewhere in the region of my hairline.
“Your father contacted me a couple of months ago to find out if telling your family the truth violated any preternatural rules.” He shrugged and let his hand fall back to his side.
“Huh?”
You may have already recognized the fact I am frequently mistaken for the Queen of Witty Repartee.
“He figured it would make your life a bit easier if you didn’t have to hide who and what you are from the people closest to you.”
“And does it?” I whispered in a shaky voice, grabbing the front of his shirt in a tight fist and yanking him down to my eye level.
“Well, how should I know, Logan? You tell me,” he replied irritably, plucking my fist from his shirt and straightening to his full, intimidating, six and half foot height.
“No,” I shook my head. “I mean, does it violate the rules?” The squirrels in my head were doing a frenetic salsa. What if telling the others had landed my father on some heavenly hit list?
“Probably.” Kane shrugged again. I wondered if he was doing it on purpose to draw attention to the magnificent breadth of his shoulders. I mean, it was, you know, working and all, but still...“Hey, I’m not planning on telling anyone. You?”
“Well, duh!” The overwhelming sense of relief I felt at knowing my father wasn’t about to be hauled off to some Court of the Damned was short-lived. Gravel crunched behind me, and my sister’s sparkling blue BMW X5 luxury SUV hummed into the drive.
“God help me,” I whispered mournfully. “Yenta has arrived.”
“Are you referring to an old busybody in general or a matchmaker in particular?” The Grim Reaper’s piercing green eyes crinkled in amusement as he looked over my head for the source of the unremitting howls emanating from my sister’s dog, Clinique.
Given the eardrum-perforating cacophony coming from my sister’s vehicle, I could fully appreciate the fact my brother-in-law, Brad-the-Famous-Vascular-Surgeon, preferred to drive his own car. Oh sure, he always says he’s on call and might have to leave unexpectedly, but just between us, I’m pretty sure it was the most plausible excuse he could think of to steal fifteen minutes of peace and quiet.
“Both? So, okay it’s the blonde, blue-eyed, Catholic version in great shoes,” I conceded. “But the method to her madness is the same.”
I figured it was going to take Denise at least another two to three minutes to harness the dog, gather Mick and Vick the chattering twins, and herd them all from the car and into the house. I knew with complete certainty the moment my sister’s baby blues got a gander at the awesome hotness that was Morgan Kane, her mission would be clear. The only thing scarier than a best-selling horror novel was my sister in matchmaker mode. I was doomed.
“Reaper, I need a favor,” I choked out and cleared my throat.
“Sure, Logan.” His gaze came back to rest on my face. “What can I do for you?”
“Um, kiss me?” I squeaked as my face heated with the fire of a thousand desert suns.
“Huh?” Judging by the expression on his face, whatever favor Morgan Kane h
ad been anticipating, locking lips with the crazy woman hadn’t even made his list.
“Look,” I whispered in a rush after glancing back to confirm Denise had almost gotten the invading hoard under control. “My sister is determined to hook me up. The minute she sees you, she will devote the remainder of the morning to cute and embarrassing stories designed to impress you with my charm and delightfulness. Trust me, you’ll want to stab knitting needles in your eyes after about ten minutes.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Logan.” He had the temerity to smirk while crossing his arms over his chest. His broad, muscular chest. “I think I might enjoy the cute and embarrassing stories. And I already think you’re charming and delightful.”
My eyes widened in shock, and my mouth fell open yet again. “You do?”
“Logan? You digress.” He snapped my pie hole shut as he had before. But this time he didn’t remove his hand. Instead, he stroked his forefinger lightly along my jaw, sending my pulse into a gallop to rival the Clydesdales pulling a beer wagon away from a crowd of alcoholic zombies.
“I do? Oh yeah. I do. So, anyway I thought if we gave her the impression we already had something going, well maybe it would divert her attention away from my relationship status for the day.”
“I see,” he murmured as he slipped his hand along the side of my neck and curled his fingers around my nape. Suddenly my knees buckled. I must have twisted my ankle more seriously than I thought. Fortunately, Morgan Kane caught me around the waist before I hit the ground and pulled me hard against him. I absently wondered if it would be considered rude to toss a breath mint in my mouth. Then it occurred to me I didn’t have any. Oh well, moot point. His soft chuckle skittered along my skin like a physical caress. I swallowed hard. I tipped my head back, licked my lips enticingly, and closed my eyes, resigned and ready to make this sacrifice in an effort to thwart my sister and her underhanded plans. Kane chuckled again and then gently swept his lips over mine.
Except for Roger and that one tequila-induced-episode of poor judgment right after senior prom, I didn’t have a whole lot of experience with men.
I know, I know. Up until now, I’ve sucked you into that whole sophisticated woman-about-town façade I wear so well, but really, it’s true.
Morgan Kane, on the other hand, apparently knew his way around this town and most of the continental United States. The ground tilted, the sun spun backwards, and I had difficulty remembering my own name when Morgan Kane finally lifted his lips from mine. Would I never learn my impulsivity always comes back to bite me in the ass?
I coughed loudly, attempted to gather my wits, and looked around to gauge my sister’s reaction. Denise, et al, was nowhere to be seen. The whole crew had apparently hustled past our lip-lock and continued into the house completely unnoticed. At least, by me. Kane’s wicked grin said he was well aware of the effect he’d had on me, and it was precisely the one he’d intended. Wucking fonderful.
“Well, I could use a cup of coffee.” He had the audacity to chuckle when I grabbed at his shirt to remain on my feet after he released me. Bad doggie. “How about you?”
Honestly, I was thinking I could use some ice water. About a gallon. Poured directly over my head.
“Coffee. Sure,” I replied automatically while practically running along on my rubbery legs to keep up with his long strides. Denise waited at the back door, holding Clinique by the collar, and opening the door with a wide, knowing smile as we approached. And then my devious blonde sister and the Grim Reaper exchanged a wink. Well, damn! Had Yenta already been in cahoots with the Hellhound? Feaky snuckers!
Chapter 5
If I expected my family to be put out in any way by the sight of the Grim Reaper sitting at the kitchen table wolfing down bagels on a Sunday morning, I was doomed to disappointment. My family, the happiest group of crazies this side of the loony bin, sipped their coffee and made small talk just as though Death dropped by on a regular basis. I still had no idea what Kane was doing here, and the subject of developmental psychology had yet to be broached in the conversation swirling around my spinning head.
I gnawed morosely on my Long John, enjoying it less than usual, though realistically, nothing can truly destroy my love for doughnuts. Periodically I washed it, and my sense of disquiet, down my anxiety-constricted throat with a mouthful of double shot espresso. I wasn’t upset over the fact my entire family knew the truth about my supernatural proclivities, not exactly. My nose was simply out of joint because no one had felt the need to let me in on the fact they knew. And I couldn’t help wondering how many times my freakiness had been the topic of conversation unbeknownst to me. I was slightly perturbed, however, at my body’s treacherous response to Morgan Kane’s kiss. That hadn’t been on my agenda for today or any other day. And the fact he’d directed neither a word nor a glance in my direction since we came in the house? Yeah, he was really on my last nerve.
Almost as though he’d read my mind, his glance suddenly swung in my direction.
“You have coconut on your chin,” he remarked helpfully.
“I’m saving it for later.”
“I see. Well, it’s good to have goals.” He pushed back his chair and turned to my father. “You wanna show me that ’67 you’ve been bragging about all morning, Dan?”
My father, the car junkie, did not have to be asked twice. Brad followed them out, and as soon as the door banged closed behind the men, I grabbed a napkin from the basket in the center of the table and scrubbed furiously at my chin. Just as I suspected, clean as a whistle. I crumpled the napkin and dropped it on the table with a frown.
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” Denise stuck out her bottom lip and her chin trembled. With an eye-roll worthy of yours truly, my stepmother pushed back her chair and began clearing the table. Just as I got up to help her, the twins came tearing through the kitchen with a firmly leashed Clinique leading the charge.
The Petit Basset Griffon Vendéen didn’t even pause to give me a friendly yip. Usually I was her favorite person in the whole wide world, and though I was a cat person who would never admit it, I felt a bit slighted when she shot past me as though I was yesterday’s leftovers with all of the good bits picked over. A quick glance out the kitchen window confirmed she was galloping in the direction of the garage and the hot Hellhound. Traitor.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Denise,” I muttered. “Why would I be mad at you? It’s not your fault I was born some preternatural freak or that the Grim Reaper stopped by for coffee.”
“Weeellll…” Denise drawled in a decidedly reluctant tone. “It sort of is. Oh, not the being born a preternatural freak, that’s totally on you…but I did kind of invite Morgan for coffee.”
“You what?” I spun on my sister so quickly I made myself dizzy. I grabbed the back of my chair to steady myself as she slumped down even further in hers. Big, fat tears welled up in her cornflower blue eyes and threatened to spill over onto her Passion Pink kissed cheeks. Well acquainted with my sister’s ability to summon tears with the ease of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, I wasn’t buying the act. “And when exactly did you have a chance to invite Morgan Kane for coffee?”
“Thursday night?” she squeaked. Thursday night? But Denise and Brad had been at a medical society banquet Thursday night. I knew this because they’d asked me to babysit Mick and Vick.
“Sit down, Maxine,” stepmother Gail sighed wearily. She pulled out my chair, and I sank into it, while she planted herself in the one across the table.
“When your father told us the truth about you and your, er…abilities, well it was a bit of a shock I can tell you,” Gail began. “We were frightened to death, as you can imagine…”
“Of course you were,” I croaked. My chest ached with impeding loss. I couldn’t let them see how this hurt. My stepmother and I had grown so much closer over the last year. Now I would have to kiss that newfound sense of belonging good-bye. I’d never been like them. We all knew it. Now we simply had irrefutable proof. “All t
hese years you’ve been cohabiting with a freak of nature. What better way to get rid of me than to fix me up with one of my own kind.”
“Oh, Maxine, no…” Gail jumped from her chair, moved around the table, and pulled my face into her ample breasts. I couldn’t speak. Partly because my throat was clogged with grief, and partly because I was certain I was a hairsbreadth away from suffocating.
Did I mention Gail has ample breasts?
Wooden chair legs scraped against the tile with the comforting squeal of a plastic fork on a Styrofoam plate. Oh, hell, Denise was going to hug me, too. I’d be sobbing like a reformed sinner at a revival meeting in a minute. I’m usually not much of a crier. I don’t know why, but crying in front of people has never been me. Still, the combination of knowing I was an oddity in my own family coupled with the comforting arms of the only mother I’d ever known nearly did me in. A big fat tear hung on the edge of my lashes and threatened to actually course down my cheek. I bit my lip and prepared to disgrace myself. Imagine my surprise when instead of feeling my sister’s reassuring arms around me, I felt the sharp sting of the three carat diamond eternity band Brad-the-Famous-Vascular-Surgeon had bestowed upon her on her last birthday as it connected with the back of my head.
“Ow!” I yelped, forgoing the comfort of Gail’s cushy hooters to swivel my head and glare at my sister. “Mom, did you see what she did?”
“For the love of…Denise, don’t smack your sister!” Gail cried in exasperation.
“Seriously Max, sometimes you are a complete dipwad. We weren’t afraid of you. We were afraid for you.” Denise crossed her arms over her chest, lowered her brows, and tried to appear intimidating. Well, as intimidating as a five foot six, willowy blonde perched upon stilettos and twinkling with bugle beads can manage. Yeah, I didn’t find her especially threatening, either.
Being a firm believer in and frequent practitioner of gate control theory, I took a deep breath and chomped down on the inside of my cheek waiting for the pain messages originating in the back of my skull to be outwitted by the competing stimuli from my soon to be lacerated mouth. By the time I tasted the sweet metallic tang of blood, my head felt almost swell.
Smitten With Death Page 4