“Forget it. If you refuse to answer my question then it must be true.” She crossed her arms and stared at me, her lips twitching.
“If you keep squinting at me like that, you’ll get wrinkles around your eyes,” I teased. “Wrinkles age you, so watch it.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re a brat, Elizabeth Stevens.”
“This brat is tired. You’re not gaining weight. You look terrific. There’s a lot of sugar in the cookies, and you know how sugar affects you. You’ll be awake all night.”
“I’ll just come wake you up then.”
After a hug and a good night, I took the stairs to my apartment. It was going to be fine. I’d only wished for Maddie to relax and not feel like she had to be a walking cover model every second of the day. To have a little self-confidence, to not be so self-conscious all the time. How could that hurt her?
In front of my apartment, I knelt down and reached under the nearby plant to pull out the key I’d hidden there earlier.
“I told you to move that.” The now recognizable voice came once again from behind me. At least this time my cellulite was safely hidden beneath denim and my rear wasn’t hanging out of a window. Good news on both accounts.
Still crouching, I flipped my head to get a look at the cop. Kinda cool, running into him. “Hey there, you.”
“You really can’t keep your key there. What if I was a major lunatic? Or, as you said, a madman? I would now know how to get into your apartment whenever I wanted. I could hurt you,” Nate said.
“Lucky for me you’re not a major lunatic.” I stood and tilted my chin so I could look him in the eye. I hadn’t remembered him being so tall. “Or a madman.” He was in uniform again. The pants, while not tight, easily accentuated his taut, muscular legs. My stomach quivered—just a little—as I took in his full appearance.
Nate rubbed his hand over his face. “Tonight I responded to a rape call. Please, do not keep your key out here.” His voice carried through the hallway, anguish and maybe a little anger evident in each abruptly spoken word. But it was his expression that really got to me. More than tired, he looked beaten down.
“Is that why you’re home early? I thought you were on the late shift.”
“They needed me early tonight, but don’t change the subject. This woman’s life is forever altered. It’s not her fault what happened, but hell . . . if she’d been more aware of her surroundings, she might have stayed safe.” Slowly, he stepped toward me, his gaze even. “If you don’t make sure of your safety, you won’t be safe. It’s really that simple. So much of what I see could be avoided by taking precautions.”
Stopping, he held out his hand. I dropped the key into his open palm. He unlocked my door and pushed it open. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to react.
“Go inside. Take this key and lock your door. Take my advice.” He voice was clipped and sort of cold, more like the cop I’d met that first night than the man I’d started to get to know.
“Look, it was just for a few minutes while I ran up to see my friend Maddie. It seemed simpler to leave the key here because my hands were full, that’s all.”
Nate frowned. “That’s not a good enough reason. It’s too easy to feel safe in a locked building. You don’t know all of your neighbors, and you don’t know who they might have coming to see them. Trust me on this.”
“This woman, will she be okay?”
“Physically, probably. Mentally? Who knows. It depends what type of help she gets and how strong she is. This job . . .” He broke off and shook his head. “It’s rough sometimes.”
“Do you want to come in? I can make coffee. We can talk.” My heart reacted to the stiff way he stood, the washed out color in his face. If a cup of coffee and some conversation would ease his tension, I was all too happy to offer.
He hesitated, and I thought he was going to say no. But then he said, “Yeah. That would be nice. Let me go get out of uniform and I’ll be right back.” He started to step away but said, “Lock your door. I’ll knock.”
Once inside, I locked up as he’d requested and went to the kitchen. I barely had the coffee brewing when there was a light rap on my door. Even though I knew it was Nate, I checked through the peephole just to be sure. I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman he’d told me about. Sliding the chain off, I said, “Come in.”
“Please tell me you didn’t open this door without seeing who it was.”
“I looked. And I saw it was you,” I said softly. “Come on, you need to relax.”
He exhaled. “I’m sorry. It usually takes me awhile to clear my head after a bad night. I don’t mean to be taking it out on you.”
“I can’t imagine the things you’ve seen.”
He followed me into the living room and sat on the couch, his long legs spread out in front of him. I curled up on one of my ugly chairs. This was the first time I’d seen him in anything other than his uniform or sweats. He had jeans on, along with a soft-looking flannel shirt the color of a worn teddy bear. His eyes were a dark jade.
More than beat, he appeared empty—as if what he’d witnessed had reached down inside of him and jarred everything loose. I wondered how often he had bad nights. After all, we didn’t live in small-town USA. And then I wondered how long it would take for the pieces to settle again. For him to have that amazing smile I’d seen so often in such a short time frame.
“Why do you keep doing it?”
“Because I can’t do anything else,” he replied.
“What do you mean?”
He cleared his throat, and I didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he said, “When I was a kid, my mother was attacked. A police officer saved her life. That’s why I do it, to help keep people whole.” And then, in an obvious attempt to change the subject, he asked, “How long have you lived here?”
“Almost a year.” Everything in me softened as I looked at him. Somehow, I’d met a really cool guy. In today’s world, that’s not so easy to do.
A slight grin tipped the corners of his lips, and I was happy for it. “Really? That long?” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
His teasing tone vanquished any embarrassment I might have felt. “I haven’t unpacked much yet.”
“How come?”
Such a simple question. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a simple answer. The beeping of the coffeemaker saved me. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Black.”
“I thought I was the only person to drink coffee at night,” I said when I returned to the living room. Handing him his cup, I had the impossible desire to brush my fingers across his cheek. To wipe the strain away from his expression. To somehow offer him comfort.
“I drink it all hours of the day.” Accepting the cup, he patted the cushion next to him. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I sat down and angled my body toward his. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Anything other than what I did tonight. Tell me about you.”
“Me? There’s not much to tell. I’m divorced and I work in a bakery. Oh, and I suck at follow-through. That pretty much sums it up.” Well, that and I was the descendent of a gypsy. And I could spell people with baked goods. But really, he didn’t need to know that.
“Follow-through? What do you mean?”
“Take a look around. I start crafts, but I don’t finish them. I start unpacking, yet it’s never really done. I make myself promises and rarely keep them. I’m sort of stuck between here and where I want to be.”
His body tensed. Not in a negative way, but in a I’m-really-paying-attention-to-you way. “Where do you want to be?”
“I don’t know. That’s probably why I’m stuck.” I laughed, trying to lighten the suddenly serious moment. All the focus on me was a little uncomfortable. “Happy, I guess.”
“Why aren’t you happy?” He smelled so good, and all I wanted to do was crawl onto him and lay my head down on his chest. Partially to give him c
omfort, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t to gain a bit of comfort myself.
Instead, I set my cup down and twisted my hands together. “Long story. Let’s talk about something else. What about you? How do you know Grandma Verda?”
Good humor zipped into his eyes, chasing out the desolation of earlier. “I thought you were going to ask me about follow-through. I excel at follow-through.” He scooted closer to me, put his cup on the table, and leaned in. And in that second, everything changed. The atmosphere in the room became charged. Tickles of awareness dotted my skin. I couldn’t breathe, he was so close.
“Do you know how sexy you are, Elizabeth?”
“No,” I whispered, my belly doing all sorts of weird flipflops.
“You are. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I found you hanging out your window.”
“Not my finest moment.”
“Nah, I remember it as being an excellent moment.”
And then, his hand was on my chin, tipping it upward. His eyes changed again, from humor to something else. Desire?
His lips touched mine, softly at first, as if testing the waters. I sighed, allowed myself to fall forward slightly. His other arm wove around my back, pulling me tight to him.
“I want to taste you.” His rough and tumble voice made my heart skip a beat in anticipation.
“Okay,” I said.
His hand moved from my chin to my cheek, guiding my face closer to his. The flip-flopping in my belly disappeared, replaced by searing heat that slowly inched from nerve to nerve, muscle to muscle, until my entire body flushed with warmth and I shivered from the pleasure of it.
Yes, this was exactly what I wanted.
What I craved.
What I’d wished for.
His mouth took mine as if we’d kissed before. No hesitation, no doubt. Just stark desire and needy want. It had been so long since a man touched me like this, kissed me like this, that I thought I would explode. I moaned as his lips left mine, afraid what had barely started was already over.
I shouldn’t have worried.
“Come here,” Nate said, pulling me onto his lap.
“I’m here.”
For once, I did what I wanted. I took his mouth this time. Tasting, exploring on my own, while he held me, one hand on my back, the other in my hair. My tongue slipped into his warm mouth, and I tasted coffee, heat, and yes, desire. I wanted him to touch me. No matter how fast this was, whether it made sense or not, I acted on my want. I pulled back and slid my sweater off, tossing it on the ground.
“Liz,” Nate groaned, as I began unbuttoning his shirt.
“I want to feel your skin against me. Help me,” I whispered. “Please.”
“Please?”
“Yes, please.”
In mere seconds, his shirt met mine on the ground, and he unhooked my bra and dropped that, too. His mouth came back to mine, and he took control. My nipples hardened beneath the stroking of his fingers, and all I wanted was Nate. Just Nate. Every coherent thought left my brain.
Trailing kisses from my lips to my cheek to my earlobe, he said, “You’re beautiful.”
“No, you are,” I argued.
A small chuckle. “No more talking.”
“Okay, no more talking.”
I moaned as his mouth found my breasts. Arching back, I closed my eyes and just experienced the moment, the hot flash of his tongue as it brushed over each nipple, the suction of his mouth as he brought them to hard peaks, and the press of his erection through his jeans, pushing against me, making me even wetter. I had never wanted a man as quickly as I’d wanted this man.
“You need to lie down,” Nate muttered. “Right now.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.” He stood up, holding my weight easily, and turned, laying me down on the couch. Straddling me, he leaned over and began kissing my breasts again, moving down to my belly, leaving a trail of wet fire wherever his mouth touched.
He unsnapped my jeans, then looked at me. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.” My belly quivered again. “Hell, yes.”
I lifted my hips so he could pull my jeans down my legs, and those, too, met the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor.
“You’re wet,” he groaned, his hand inside my pan ties, rubbing, feeling, teasing me. His fingers stroked, starting an entirely new burn, one I hadn’t felt for far too long.
I pushed his head closer. “Kiss me again.”
His mouth came back to mine. His fingers entered me, thrusting deep inside. With a gasp, I raised my hips. I wanted more than his fingers, but before I could pull away long enough to say those words, the burning grew hotter, and my mind numbed to anything but sensation.
It traveled through me in a hot rush, setting off tiny explosions as it went from the core of my body. I ground against his hand, needing to find the release only Nate could give me.
“That’s right, Liz, come on, baby,” he whispered, moving his fingers to the rhythm of my movements, to the sound of my moans. I pulled his face back to mine. I wanted my tongue in his mouth when I came. At that moment, I would have swallowed him whole if I could.
I whimpered, pushed against his hand again, and suddenly everything exploded in a burst of light, sensation, and pleasure. “Oh my,” I murmured, riding the crest, still moving my hips against him as my entire body melted from the release, from the heat.
Nate kept his hand there, but laid his head on my chest, playing with my breast with his other hand. “This should feel odd, but it doesn’t,” he said quietly. “Are you good?”
“I’m good. I’m very good.” Though, I must admit, I was now a bit shy. Crazy, but there you have it. “I feel kind of bad, though. What did you get from this?”
“More than you know. This was exactly what I needed to-night. Thank you.”
“Whenever you feel that particular need, let me know,” I laughed. A few minutes passed, with neither of us speaking. A little while later, I asked, “Are you doing better now?”
Lifting his head, he kissed me slowly. “Yes. You could say I’m a new man.”
I stroked his cheek, like I had wanted to earlier, and soaked in his gaze. “I’m glad.”
“Hey, Elizabeth?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t think you should say you suck at follow-through anymore,” Nate said with a chuckle.
“I don’t know. You were the follow-through that time.”
Another laugh, and then his head came back to my chest. I closed my eyes, enjoyed the weight of him, the feel of his body against mine, the solidity of it, and simply relaxed.
Tired, I yawned, and began drifting off. Then, the banana muffins came to mind, followed by the brownies, and I had to wonder if the night’s magic was real or simply the result of Miranda’s gypsy magic.
At the moment, I wasn’t sure I cared.
Chapter Six
“Sit up, back straight, legs even, knees out. Pull your arms slightly to the back and slowly push the weights in toward you, but not too close. See how my feet are flat on the floor? This is the posture you want when you’re using this machine,” said Kevin, my hunky trainer, as he demonstrated.
It looked simple enough. Even better, it wasn’t hard on the eyes watching him work out. With his rippled physique, chocolate brown eyes, tawny complexion, and almost-to-his-shoulder chestnut hair, Kevin had it going on. In fact, there were plenty of muscle-bound gym guys at Steel Bodies. There were also numerous women with, well, yeah—steel bodies. I fit in about as well as a carrot in a box of donuts. Well, I wasn’t the carrot, but the analogy is still valid.I couldn’t help but wonder what my mother thought when she came in to get the gift certificate. The gym was close to A Taste of Magic, and my mother was well aware of my innate laziness, so it probably seemed a perfect fit. But it wasn’t a polished and pretty gym. The people there were definitely serious about fitness.
“Your turn, Elizabeth,” Kevin said. He adjusted the machine and waited for me to hop on.
As if.
“Could you show me one more time? I’m not exactly sure I understand how to use it.”
He smiled, and his dimples appeared again. I loved dimples.
“It’s easy. I’ll help you.” He put his hand on my hip and pushed me toward the machine. Hesitantly, I slid on the seat and tried to take the position he’d just shown me.
“This can’t be right. It feels as if my shoulders are going to pop out of joint,” I said, my arms stretched behind me.
“You’re holding them too far back.” He gently repositioned everything. “There, like this. Slowly push forward. There you go. See, you’re doing great.” He moved directly in front of the machine. “We’re only going to start with two sets of twelve reps. It’ll be a breeze.”
“You have no idea how completely wrong you are.” I pushed the weights in and then slowly released them. The muscles in my arms began to burn, but it wasn’t really unpleasant. At least not at first. After I’d done a few, I could definitely tell the difference, and yeah, it pretty much sucked.
Why did I need hot-looking arms anyway? I lived in Chicago, so I didn’t have twelve months of short-sleeve weather to contend with. I wasn’t really concerned about my arms. I needed to focus on my midsection, flatten my tummy, tighten up my rear, and pull in the hips. Kevin said we’d focus on a core workout, so why the arms? “How many more?”
“Five.”
“Really? I’ve done that many?”
“I told you! Just a few more and you’ll have the first set of repetitions done. Doesn’t it feel great? Do you want me to add more weight for the second set?”
“No,” I huffed. “Make it lighter.”
“That’s twelve. Rest for a second, drink some water if you need to, and we’ll do the last set.”
“Make it lighter,” I said in between gulps of water. I was going to die. I didn’t realize how much of a wimp I was. Pitiful, I know, but facts are facts. “Please. My arms are going to fall off.”
“Good! That’s how it’s supposed to feel.”
I didn’t think he looked so hot anymore. He was torturing me, and he was smiling while he did so. No way would I come back. Forget it. It wasn’t worth it. Not for anything.
A Taste of Magic Page 7